Death Comes Knocking (The Thea Kozak Mystery Series, Book 10)

by Kate Flora

  “They won’t come around and bother us?”

  “I hope not.”

  She picked up her suitcase. “Good. Let’s do it, then. I need to hear all about this house and this baby and your adventures.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are being careful of this baby, right?”

  My own mother might not be doing much to nurture me through this pregnancy, but there were good people filling her empty shoes.

  “It’s a challenge,” I said, “but I think I’m rising to it.”

  She laughed, a big, full-bodied laugh that enveloped me just like her hug. Jonetta is who I want to be when I grow up.

  We wrangled her luggage up the stairs and into the guestroom. She loved it. Then she had to see the baby’s room, which she declared “perfect,” and our room, and the giant bathroom. I didn’t offer to show her the unfinished room. For all I knew, Kinsman was in there, recovering or plotting his next move.

  We went to the kitchen, made Arnold Palmers, alcohol-free for me, and carried them, and a tray of veggies and dip, out to the broad front porch. We settled onto two ends of the large glider-sofa out there, and slowly glided back and forth as we caught up. We were discussing the ever-present challenge of fund-raising when Lindsay’s little blue car turned up the driveway and parked behind Jonetta’s, looking like baby car snuggling up to mama car. Not that the Soul was big, just taller and even bluer.

  The Lindsay who got out was a diminished version of the young woman we’d hired. Her jaunty, vigorous carriage drooped and she looked so tentative as she stepped from the car and came toward the house.

  My unwanted welcoming committee didn’t help.

  I scooted through the house to the kitchen door and answered her knock. She looked puzzled as she passed the two agents, still upright and attentive, in their deck chairs. Two people in suits don’t belong on a country deck on a summer afternoon.

  I gave her a hug and drew her inside. “U.S. Marshals Service agents,” I said, by way of kind of explaining Fred and Alice, “looking for a missing person.” I was beginning to feel a little sorry for them. I considered offering lemonade or ice tea, but it would be like giving milk to a stray cat. I didn’t want them to feel encouraged. “They believe I know the whereabouts of that missing witness, which I don’t. I’m tired of explaining things to them, and they won’t stop harassing me.”

  I didn’t truly understand why they stayed. Maybe because Andre had given them coffee and cookies once they figured he was the soft touch. Maybe they thought if they stuck around, Charity would arrive to join the party. Maybe they believed we had her hidden in the attic and were waiting for reinforcements to arrive with a search warrant. I wanted them gone so badly I struggled not to go out there, scream at them, and demand that they leave. Maybe I was being foolishly passive for not doing so?

  Lindsay looked puzzled, but didn’t say anything until the door was closed and locked. “Are you sure this is a good time to have company?”

  I shrugged. “If I waited for a good time to have company, I’d never have company. Leisure and I are usually pretty distant.” I opened the fridge. “Arnold Palmer?”

  “Sure.”

  “Vodka?”

  “Please.”

  I gave her the drink and led her through to the front porch, where I pulled up a wicker chair and introduced her to Jonetta.

  Have I mentioned that Jonetta isn’t shy? She took one look at Lindsay, wilted after her dreadful day, and drew my intern into a big embrace. Jonetta is a magical person. I’m a cynic and yet I believe this. Now I was seeing her in action once again. By the time Lindsay was released from that healing hug, she looked restored.

  She took her chair, inhaled and exhaled, and smiled. “Wow,” she said. “What was that?”

  “One of my secret weapons,” I said.

  Lindsay sipped her drink and Jonetta said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I expected Lindsay to say no. Instead, she started to talk. I should have known that along with her magic touch, Jonetta is like the best possible therapy. Lindsay went through the morning’s events with Jonetta patting her hand and offering murmured encouragement. I sat back at watched. The soft voices lulled me into a somnolent state. Birds chirped. An occasional car whooshed past down below. If I could forget about Fred and Alice out behind the kitchen, waiting to pounce, this would be almost perfect.

  But Fred and Alice were like a splinter.

  Ever tried not to think about a splinter?

  What did they expect to accomplish here? Were they expecting Kinsman or his sister to suddenly appear? Hoping that if they persisted, I’d break down and tell them what they wanted to know? Were they truly as hard-headed as they appeared, or did they have a different plan in mind? Did they know something that I didn’t—which wouldn’t be hard, since I knew almost nothing about the situation? Was it possible that they were well-intentioned, simply here in case the bad guys came back, the same ones who’d killed Jessica Whitlow and Nathaniel Davenport? If that was the case, they could have used their words and told me so.

  How was I supposed to stay calm and stress-free with death on my doorstep and feds on my porch?

  I felt a warm hand on my arm. Jonetta. It was like getting a transfusion of peace.

  I smiled. “Thanks. Now, if you could only make those two vultures disappear.”

  “I probably could,” she said. “I know some people.”

  I didn’t know if she meant people highly placed in government or people adept at getting rid of problems in a less law-abiding way. Jonetta knew both kinds. Probably people in both arenas were former students.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Just tired of all this death, especially now that it’s on my doorstep.”

  “Where’s your husband?” she said.

  “Guess.”

  “Investigating those deaths. That what those two out back are here about?”

  “In a way, I suppose, except being government, they’re about a forthcoming as my big toe. If they really are from the government.”

  Jonetta looked down at my naked feet. “I think your toes are more forthcoming. They’re naked and free and happy. And you still have ankles.”

  Lindsay giggled. It was nice to hear.

  “Andre should be home soon,” I said. “He can deal with Fred and Alice. They won’t listen to me anyway.” I looked over at Lindsay. “Andre is my husband. Detective. Maine state police.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  Because what do you say? She’d already spent much of her day with cops.

  Everyone was silent for a while, except for the crunch of veggies or the tinkle of ice against glass.

  In the midst of that peaceful moment, I suddenly remembered a fragment of my conversation in the car with Charity. We’d passed one of those old-fashion motels that was a series of small cottages along a lakeshore, and she’d said, “Those are so cute. You know, I’ve always wanted to stay in one of those places.”

  I had stayed in a few, on family vacations. My mother had shared Charity’s fascination with tiny cottages. She’d quickly learned that they lacked most modern amenities, and that cramming five people into a small space with partitions that didn’t reach the ceiling wasn’t conducive to sleep. After that, we stayed in chain motels with swimming pools.

  Was it possible that was where Charity was hiding out? My first instinct was to jump in my car and go and check. But it was twenty minutes away, I had a houseful of company, and Fred and Alice on the back deck. If I left, they might follow me. Their mission might be to protect her, but I worried they’d just put her at risk.

  I shelved the impulse for now, especially as Andre was coming up the driveway. I watched his SUV fly in and park behind Lindsay. He surveyed Fred and Alice’s vehicle, then headed toward the kitchen door. I held my breath, hoping he would send them packing.

  Twenty-Eight

  A soft afternoon breeze had come up, bringing with it the scents of new-cut hay and dust. I looked at my two guests. “Any bets on whether
he sends our unwanted guests packing?”

  Jonetta shrugged. “You aren’t gonna like this, but my bet would be he invites them to stay for dinner.”

  I shook my head. I knew about the bond between people in public safety organizations. I believed that the bond between me and my husband would trump it. My misplaced faith was shattered when Andre appeared in the doorway, Fred and Alice behind him, and announced he’d invited them to stay for dinner.

  “I’ll be back,” I told Jonetta. “Look after Lindsay, please. She might need another drink.”

  I walked inside, ignoring Andre and the annoying federal duo. I wiggled my feet into flip flops, grabbed my purse, and headed out to my car.

  “Hey, wait. Where are you going?” Andre said, coming after me.

  I manufactured a smile and a shrug. If he didn’t know what the problem was, I wasn’t going to enlighten him. Long ago, my mother labeled me stubborn. She might have been on to something. “Just going to pick up some beer,” I said. A seasoned detective should have spotted the lie. If he couldn’t, that wasn’t my problem.

  “I got some extra chicken,” I said, “and pie. Is Kinsman still around?”

  He shrugged. “He was still here when I left. You didn’t see him?”

  “Nope. I didn’t look in the unfinished room, though.”

  He kissed me and I almost relented and told him what I was up to. Almost. No one kissed like this guy. But my failure to invite Fred and Alice in should have been a clue. Maybe he had a reason he hadn’t shared; he was the wily detective, after all. Right now, I was in no mood to try and read his mind.

  I climbed into my car and headed out past the barn and down the back way to the road. I kept an eye on the rearview, worried about a sinister black SUV, but spotted none. I did see a silver Subaru a few times, but since that’s pretty much every third car in Maine, I wasn’t too worried. Twenty minutes down the road, give or take a few doddering tourists, I turned into the place I remembered her remarking on.

  Up close, it looked kind of shabby, like it was barely hanging on. Still, I parked by the office and walked in. The air smelled like lake water and I could hear small waves lapping the shore. An old woman with blue sausage curls was knitting in an armchair. She perked up when I came in, set down her knitting, and smiled. “Can I help you, dear? If you’re looking for a cabin, we’re full up. The weekend, you know.”

  I did know. Chez Kozak-Lemeiux was also full up.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. A young woman. Striking blue eyes and dark hair.” I waved a hand, indicating the basketball. “Pregnant, like me. She drives a gray Volvo.”

  She nodded, like someone looking for Charity was the most normal thing in the world. “Oh yes, dear,” she said, in one of those voices that was like a grandmotherly pat on the back. “She was here. Such a sweet girl. Her cabin was booked for the weekend, though, so she couldn’t stay.”

  “Do you know where she went? Her brother is looking for her. He’s quite concerned about her.”

  She looked thoughtful. “Well, there was someone looking for her earlier today. What does her brother look like?”

  “Like her, only tall and male,” I said, describing Kinsman. “They’re twins.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “No. That wasn’t who was here asking about her. Actually, that was a couple. And you know…” She leaned toward me confidentially and said, in a low voice, “I didn’t like them very much. Their manner was what my mother would have called ‘high handed’ if you know what I mean. They flashed those badges and all but they…well, I didn’t get the impression they knew her or cared about her. So I didn’t tell them everything.”

  Her smile was sly, like she’d sussed out Fred and Alice perfectly and knew better than to give them too much information. It frustrates the police, I know, but sometimes people’s failure to cooperate is instinctively correct.

  “Fred and Alice,” I said. “They wave those badges about and don’t listen to anything we say. It was them, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. It was. I gather you’ve met them?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  We exchanged smiles.

  “Do you have any idea where she was going?”

  “Well, I gave her a few suggestions of places that might have openings. She wanted something with a kitchenette and said she liked being by the lake. I made a few calls that didn’t pan out, and then I gave her a few names back in Stover she could contact.” She rattled off a few names and I wrote them down. “I didn’t much like the idea of her being out there on her own in her condition.” She eyed MOC. “You’ll understand what I mean. But it is high season, so I don’t know whether she’ll have any luck finding a place on the lake.”

  She grabbed a brochure from a rack on the wall. “I gave her this, too, so maybe it could help her find a place. You’re welcome to take it.”

  She gave me the brochure listing local accommodations, then picked up her knitting again and settled into her chair. “Good luck, dear. I hope you find her.”

  I thanked her and headed back to my car, mentally reviewing where, on my way back, I could stop and buy that beer. I’d given it a shot. Any further searching for Charity would have to wait. I had a house full of wanted and unwanted company and no more time to drive around looking for that elusive gray Volvo.

  There was no black SUV waiting for me, but I found a silver Subaru parked beside my Jeep, with Malcolm Kinsman at the wheel. He looked like crap. I knew these guys trained under all sorts of difficult conditions, and he had to be tough as nails. Maybe it was the beating, or maybe it was concern for his sister. I didn’t know. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming. I still didn’t know whether I could trust him, though I’d sure taken a step in that direction last night when I handed him my gun.

  I approached him warily as he lowered his window. “Is she here?” he said. His voice was urgent.

  I shook my head. “She was. All the cottages were booked for the weekend, so she had to leave. The woman in the office gave her some suggestions but said it would be difficult for her to find another accommodation on a summer weekend. Especially on the lake.”

  He gave me that skeptical look, like he didn’t think I was telling him the truth. Fine, I thought. So much for our cautious détente. I waved toward the little building. “Go ahead. Go ask her yourself. And you should know that Alice and Fred have already been here.”

  He just stared at me, like he had some kind of Superman gaze that would penetrate and let him see into my soul. I don’t show my soul to just anyone. There were no secrets to be discerned anyway, at least not about his missing sister. If he wanted to gaze into the murk of other deaths and terror, he could go ahead. If someone wanted to take all that on, it was fine with me. I would love some celestial housekeeper to come and sweep out the dark and damp, do a Marie Kondo on the ugly pictures inside my skull.

  MOC kicked me and I gasped. My child did not want mama thinking like this. So much for my vow of moving on. Even though I was standing on a grassy green lawn beside a gently lapping summer lake, Charity’s situation haunted me. Why couldn’t I just hand it over to this guy and go back to being a happy mom-to-be with gardens and a lovely home to renovate? Peaceful and tranquil until my phone rang with the next emergency someone needed me to handle?

  His look of sullen disbelief irritated me. I was sick, sick, sick of people acting like I was hiding something. “Look, Kinsman, I’m concerned about her, too. Otherwise, why would I leave a house full of guests to come looking for her? It’s not because of something she told me that I’ve been keeping from you. I just suddenly remembered a casual remark she made when we were driving past here and thought I’d check it out. Now I’ve got to get home.”

  Why was I staying here talking with him instead of saying “screw you” and driving off? My soft spot for injured guys who soldier on? Because I understood the pain of searching for a missing loved one? I didn’t know.

  “I’d say y
ou’re welcome to join us, but Andre has invited Alice and Fred, who I am sure are not among your favorite people. Unless it’s that you’re not among theirs. Is it the truth that you’re not working with them because they won’t share? Of something else?”

  I had another question I needed answered first. “Hold on,” I said, putting up my hand like a traffic cop when he started to reply. “I need to know. Are you a threat to me? Are you a threat to Charity?”

  He had an opaque face. The only time I’d seen any emotion other than exhaustion or pain was when he was sleeping. Now I saw a flash of something. Surprise? Hurt? I wasn’t sure.

  He sighed. It was big sigh. A heartfelt one. “Good God. No. I told you. I’m trying to find her to protect her. I promised David. You know, like a general promise. He’s my best friend. She’s my sister.” Another sigh. “And why would I hurt you?”

  I countered with my own question. “Good question. Because if you don’t want to hurt me, why would you take a chance on leading someone who wants to hurt you, or has hurt you, and to find Charity, to my house?”

  “You’ve got Andre to protect you. And I needed to know…”

  “Mission-driven. I get that,” I said. “Only Andre wasn’t home to protect me. But right now, I also need protection. Or MOC does, which means I do. And by now, you should recognize that I am not the enemy.”

  Ignoring that, he went on to answer my question about Fred and Alice. “Why am I not working with the Marshals Service? Because dear Fred and Alice have got it in their heads that I somehow mean Charity harm. Or that my presence will screw up their mission—which is finding my sister. After they already screwed up. And working with me is not doing it by the book, and they’re too rigid to consider doing things differently. When our paths crossed, they did not deign to explain their reasons. They told me to get the hell out of Dodge. They were handling this.”

  He tried to shrug, but it hurt. “Marshals Service having done such a great job so far.”