Twisted Threads (11 page)

Ethan Trask sat at the head of our kitchen table. He looked serious, even for a Maine State Trooper.

“Coffee?” The new electric coffeemaker I’d bought was now plugged in on the kitchen counter. It was the shiniest appliance in the room.

He shook his head. “I had an early lunch. With caffeine.”

“You wanted to talk with us,” I said. “With both of us.” Gram reached down to scratch Juno behind her left ear.

“That’s right.” Ethan looked from one of us to the other. “I’m sorry, ladies. I realize this has been a rough week for you.”

“Life’s hard, young man. Whatever you’ve got to say, get on with it.” Gram and I both sensed that whatever Ethan had to say wouldn’t be good.

His eyes were sea blue. But today they were shrouded. Looking at them was like looking into cold, dark waters. He wasn’t smiling as he checked his notes. “According to Haven Harbor Hospital, Jacques Lattimore was brought by ambulance to their emergency room last night from your home.”

“That’s no secret. The man was sick. He started throwing up and then he had a seizure. We weren’t going to let him lie on the floor of our bathroom. Of course, we called for help,” Gram said.

“I understand that, ma’am. You did the right thing. And you know Mr. Lattimore is now deceased?”

“He’s dead. Yes. We went to the hospital last night and finally one of the doctors there told us.”

Ethan nodded, referring to his notes. “And you don’t know who his next of kin might be.”

“No clue. That scoundrel was no relative of ours.” Gram was playing this a little heavy. I wondered if she’d acted this way with the police after Mama had disappeared.

“How had you known him?”

“He was the agent for Mainely Needlepoint. But he hadn’t been paying up the money he owed us. Last night he paid us some, and we fired him.” Gram looked over at me and nodded.

“That’s why he was here yesterday afternoon? To pay you money he owed?”

“That’s right.” Gram didn’t mention how he’d gotten here. I had the feeling that question was coming next.

Sure enough: “Did Mr. Lattimore have a car? How did he get here?”

My turn. I smiled sweetly, hoping to get Ethan to lighten up a bit. “I drove him here.”

“From his home?”

“No. I heard he might be at the Cambridge Casino, so that’s where I went. I found him there. A little the worse for scotch, but at the blackjack table. I drove him to a room he’d rented, so he could pick up his records of Mainely Needlepoint accounts, and then I brought him back here.” I thought for a moment. “He left his car at the casino.”

“Can you give me his address?” He passed me a small notebook and I wrote it down. “I’ll check with the casino about his car. And I’ll try to find any relatives he might have, to let them know of his death.”

“All I know was, once he told me he was born in Waterville,” said Gram.

Ethan wrote that down. “Waterville. That might be helpful.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why is a Maine State Trooper concerned with the death of a needlepoint business agent? Seems to me you should be working on cases a little more serious. Like my daughter’s murder.” Gram had laid out what I’d been thinking.

“Well, it appears we have a couple of issues with Mr. Lattimore. First, as I’ve mentioned, we need to find his next of kin to notify them of his death. And, then, there’s the possibility he didn’t die of natural causes.”

Ethan was sitting as though he was at attention, showing no emotion. What had happened to the friendly Ethan I’d talked to on my first day home?

“What?” I said, practically jumping out of my chair. “The man wasn’t young. He looked almost emaciated. He drank, and he hung out at a casino. All that happened was he started throwing up, like he had the flu. Anyone could have the flu. Then he had a seizure. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but just because a man gets sick in this house doesn’t mean we had anything to do with it!”

“I didn’t say you did,” Ethan said, still not smiling. “And until we get the autopsy results, we won’t know more. But the doctor at the hospital said vomiting and seizures don’t usually come together. And Lattimore’s pupils were dilated. You said he’d been drinking. He also could have been using drugs—maybe amphetamines.” Ethan looked from one of us to the other. “Or he could have been poisoned.”

I’d had enough. “You’re accusing my grandmother of poisoning him?”

“You told me he cheated her and her friends. That’s motive. But”—he raised his eyebrows and looked at me—“you were the one who brought him here to Haven Harbor. You were with him the longest period of time. Did he eat or drink anything while he was with you?”

I shook my head. “He drank scotch at the casino. After that, nothing, until he got here.”

“And what did he have to eat or drink here?”

“I don’t know. I was in the kitchen.”

“Where was Lattimore?”

“He was in the living room with me, and with the others who do needlepoint for hire. He seemed perfectly fine. I remember he had at least two cups of tea. He may have had a cookie or two, or a scone. We were all eating,” Gram said.

“Who else was here?”

“Lauren Decker, Dave Percy, Ob Winslow, Ruth Hopkins, Katie Titicomb, and Sarah Byrne. All fine people,” Gram said decisively. “Not a murderer among ’em.”

“And all people he cheated.”

“True enough. But he’d come to apologize and pay back part of the money he owed. Heavens, Ethan, none of us would have killed him!”

He nodded. “Maybe not. We’ll wait to see what the autopsy says. In the meantime I’ll find out what I can about the man. Maybe he had a seizure disorder, and the combination of the liquor and his own meds interacted. I hope that’s what they find. Neither of us wants another murder connected to your family. But that’s up to the medical examiner to decide.”

“You’re still working on my mother’s case,” I reminded him.

“I am,” said Ethan. “So no one will be surprised to see me in Haven Harbor if I stick around for a few more days. I shouldn’t even have told you ladies Lattimore’s cause of death is being questioned. But I thought maybe you’d have seen or heard something that would help explain what happened.”

Gram’s tone was calm, but she was clearly furious. “The man was here. The man died. Not every death has to be someone’s fault. People do up and die sometimes. No one else who was here yesterday got sick or died. He wasn’t a young man, you know.”

“According to the driver’s license in his wallet, he was seventy-one. And people do die of natural causes. That may be what happened. But in the meantime, until we’re sure about that, would you make a list of any food he might have eaten while he was here? And who prepared it. And served it.”

Gram grudgingly took the pencil he handed her and started writing. When she’d finished, she handed the pad back to him. “So, Ethan Trask, you’re going to spend more time with us in Haven Harbor.”

“I’ll bunk in with my mom and dad. They keep a bed made for me.” He finally smiled.

“Won’t your wife miss you?” I said, looking at the gold ring on his left hand.

“My wife’s serving in Afghanistan,” he answered. “My little girl, Emmie, and I—we’re living with her parents for the time being. They help out with her when I’m on duty. If I work down here, I bring Emmie along and my parents have a turn making a fuss over her. That little girl has four devoted grandparents, for sure.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your wife,” I said, embarrassed. He was not only married, but he was a father. Why did he have to be so darn good-looking? Probably honest and trustworthy, too. What people always say about all the good men being taken . . .

“You’ve been away, like you told me last time we talked. There’s a lot you don’t know about Haven Harbor today,” he pointed out.

And a lot none of us knew about in Haven Harbor’s past. And now Lattimore might have been murdered.

It was time to revisit what was happening in Haven Harbor nineteen years ago.

Ethan opened another file and turned to Gram. “Mrs. Curtis, you reported your daughter missing on a Wednesday morning. You told the police officer you hadn’t seen her since Sunday afternoon.”

“That’s right,” Gram said.

“That was two and a half days later. Why did you wait to go to the police?”

“I’ve been over this so many times, Ethan. Isn’t that in your records?”

“It is. But a lot of time has passed since this case was active. I’d like to hear what you think now.” When talking about his little girl, he’d relaxed some. Now he was definitely back in law enforcement mode.

“I think exactly what I thought then. You’ve heard my daughter wasn’t the most reliable person. She sometimes stayed out all night, or even left for a couple of days, without letting me know.” Gram’s lips tightened. “I loved my daughter, but she wasn’t an easy person to live with.”

“Knowing that, what made you call the police Wednesday to report her missing? Why not wait another day or two?”

“Because for all her faults, and I’m sure you have pages of notes on those, my daughter loved Angie, here, very much. Jenny might be late to a job, or call in sick when she’d partied too much, but she kept her commitments to her daughter.”

“Is that so, Angie?”

I’d never thought about it that way, but Gram was right. Mama didn’t tell us where she was going or with whom. But if I were in a school play or she’d promised to take me fishing, she’d be there. Not always dressed like the other parents, and sometimes with an attitude that annoyed other adults, especially other women, but always there for me.

“Yes. Mama kept her promises to me. Always.”

“And she’d made a promise to you that week?”

“Before she left Sunday afternoon, she’d said she was looking forward to seeing me fly up. I told you that the other day.”

Ethan frowned. “‘Fly up’?”

“It’s a Girl Scout tradition. A ceremony when you graduate from being a Brownie and become a Junior Scout.” I smiled, remembering. “I was really excited about it. We had to recite the Girl Scout Laws and Promise. Mama had been helping me memorize them.”

“I guess I have to look forward to that with Emmie.” Evan’s soft spot was clearly his little girl.

I nodded. “Our troop made a big deal of it. A junior troop was going to be there to greet us as we crossed over a little bridge we’d built. We’d each make a wish and then get our Girl Scout pins and sash. Our parents were invited. Mama hadn’t usually helped with our Brownie troop, but she’d promised to come to the ceremony and bring a contribution for the refreshment table.”

“And she didn’t show.”

I shook my head slowly. “No. You were there, Gram. I remember that. But I kept looking for Mama. And she never came.”

“If Jenny’d been able to come, she would have been there,” said Gram firmly. “No question about it.”

“This ceremony was Tuesday afternoon?” said Ethan, going back to his notes.

“Brownies met after school. I don’t remember the day of the week.”

“It was Tuesday afternoon,” Gram confirmed. “When I hadn’t seen or heard from my daughter in forty-eight hours, I was certain something was wrong. But I didn’t want to disappoint Angie. I left a note, in case her mother came home. I baked cookies and went.” She looked at me. “Angie did real well, too.” She reached over and patted my hand, as though I was still in the fourth grade.

I shook my head. That was all long ago. I was surprised Gram remembered all the details.

“But she was so upset that her mama hadn’t come. She held it together during the ceremony and the reception afterward, but I could tell she was disappointed. She kept looking at the door, hoping her mama would appear. By the time we got home, she was in tears.” Gram’s expression was strained. “It was a hard evening. I was worried, too, but I kept assuring her that her mama would be home soon, that she’d gotten stuck in traffic or had to work late.”

“You didn’t call the police then?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t see how that would help. My daughter would come home when she was ready to come home. She always had. And I had a child to console. I didn’t want her overhearing me calling the police.”

“But you did, the next morning.”

“After I’d gotten Angel off to school. I was afraid there’d been an accident and Jenny was in a hospital somewhere. That was what I was most worried about. I thought if she’d had an accident or gotten in trouble, the police would know, or have ways to find out.”

He nodded and made a note.

“I don’t see how going over these details so many years later is going to help,” I interrupted the questioning. “Mama left home Sunday afternoon and didn’t come back. What’s important is where she went.”

Ethan turned to me. “We know she left here and walked toward Main Street. The last confirmed information we have about her is from one of your neighbors at the time. Mrs. Lydian Colby said she saw Jenny walking down the hill toward Main Street. Mrs. Colby is deceased now, but then she was an elderly lady who spent a lot of time looking out her window. She particularly remembered your mother because of the bright yellow dress she was wearing.”

“She walked down the hill and disappeared?” I said. “That’s all you know after all these years? Lots of people in town knew her. Someone else must have seen her!”

“No one else ever came forward and said so. Of course, she could have met a friend who gave her a ride. That’s what the officer in charge of her case then thought, since no one remembered seeing her on Main Street. He assumed she’d left town. But now, knowing where her body was found, I’m thinking maybe she did get to Main Street. Maybe she was heading for Greene’s Bakery. It was Sunday, and the bakery was closed, but maybe she was meeting Joe there. But Joe’s gone, and his wife’s gone. The only one left in the family is Lauren, and she says she doesn’t remember that day.”

“Lauren and I were in the same Brownie troop. Mrs. Greene was one of our leaders. She would have been with us Tuesday afternoon,” I said, trying to remember.

“Tuesday afternoon was forty-eight hours after your mother left home.”

Mama didn’t come to the ceremony because she was already dead. That’s what Ethan was saying. “When did Joe Greene rent that storage unit in Union?”

“Good question.” Ethan looked through his notes. “Looks like he rented it about a year before your mother’s death.”

Just because Mama didn’t come to my Girl Scout meeting didn’t mean she was dead. She could have been in a place she couldn’t leave. Someone could have tied her up, or locked her in a room somewhere.

“How often did he visit the unit? What else was in there?”

“Not much,” Ethan answered. “Lauren said her father had a great-uncle who used to live in Union. She guessed he might have left her dad a few pieces of old furniture and a couple of appliances, and her dad rented a storage unit to hold them. She doesn’t know why.”

“Instead of throwing them away or selling them?”

Ethan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Besides the freezer, there were a couple of cartons of old books, two bureaus in pretty bad condition, a washing machine, and an old couch in the unit. That was it.”

“Have you got any other suspects?”

“That’s one of the points I wanted to check with you both. At the time, Mrs. Curtis, you said you didn’t know where your daughter was planning to go when she left on Sunday. But she was dressed up, in a new dress.”

“She was. Looked real pretty that day.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I remember. And happy. She was very happy.”

“That sounds to me as though she was going to meet someone. A boyfriend, maybe?”

“All I know,” said Gram, “is that she didn’t tell me where she was going or what she planned to do.”

“She had a lot of friends in town. And in other towns, too,” I added. “We didn’t always know where she was going, or with whom. That was her way.”

“Part of it was her trying to keep that part of her life separate from you, Angie,” Gram pointed out. “She didn’t want you getting ideas about any of her . . . friends . . . or getting fond of them, if she didn’t think they’d be in her life for long.”

“What about Angie’s father,” Ethan asked. “Who was he?”

“Even I don’t know,” said Gram. “She’d never say. Didn’t put anyone’s name on the birth certificate.”

“She had Angie when she was seventeen. She was living here. Who was she dating at the time? As her mother, you must have known.”

Gram sighed. “There were boys . . . but I don’t know if any of them were Angie’s father. I wondered, of course, but I always had the feeling that if he’d been a Haven Harbor boy, she would have said.” Gram looked at me, her eyes clearly hoping I’d understand. “She got pregnant during the summer. That time of year folks in town are from all over. The father could have been anyone. Could be . . . ,” Gram said sadly, “It could be she didn’t know who he was.”

“Did you ever ask her about your father?” He turned to me.

“Once. All she said was that he was handsome, and tall, and that I would probably be tall, too.” She was wrong about that. I was taller than Mama’d been, but five feet seven wasn’t tall. “Ethan, I was only nine when she left. I knew I didn’t have a dad like other kids did, and I was old enough to know that was embarrassing. Somehow wrong. But I wasn’t old enough to press Mama about it.”

“Mrs. Curtis, your daughter never received child support? Or ever had more money than you would have thought?”

“No child support. She never mentioned the possibility. Jenny never had much money. Her salaries and tips came in, and went out. That’s why she and Angie lived here most of the time. She didn’t have the money to live anywhere else, or the money to pay a babysitter when she was working. I did that for her. And I made sure we had food on the table and Angie had clean clothes that fit her. Jenny loved Angie. But when it came to money, she spent on herself first. She knew I’d make up the slack if Angie didn’t have what she needed. I should have pushed more—maybe she would have taken more responsibility. I wasn’t a perfect mother, Ethan. I tried. But I couldn’t change Jenny. I had hopes for my granddaughter.”

She turned to me and smiled.

I knew Gram had supported us after Mama disappeared. I’d always figured Mama contributed to my upkeep when she was still at home.

“You did a great job, Gram. If I’m not perfect, it isn’t your fault.”

She reached over and covered my hand with one of her worn ones. “Thank you for that, Angel. I did my best. But I couldn’t replace your mama.”

“Okay,” said Ethan. “Then neither of you has any ideas about who Jenny would have been meeting that Sunday afternoon. Even after all these years of thinking, you haven’t come up with any possibilities.”

Gram shook her head. “She was working at the Harbor Haunts then. You probably have that in your file. Maybe someone at the café would remember. Maybe she met someone there. At the time everyone kept quiet. No one had any ideas about who she’d met. At least, none they shared with me. Or with the police.”

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone she’d argued with? Anyone who’d threatened her?”

I shook my head.

“If she did, she didn’t tell us,” Gram said. “But she always kept her troubles to herself.”

“Ken Bisson owned Harbor Haunts then. I’ll talk to him.” Ethan closed his notebook. “If either of you think of anything else that might help, you’ll let me know, right?”

“What if you don’t find anything new?”

“Then we’ll have to assume that, intentionally or by accident, Joe Greene killed her. Since Joe’s gone, we’ll close the case.”

Shot in the back of the head by accident? It might have been Joe Greene. I knew that. But no way was it an accident.

The question was: Why? The answer to that would point to the killer.