by Kathi Daley
“I think so.” Paisley took a long sip of her soda.
I was about to ask about other projects she might be interested in when the kid at the counter announced that our burgers were ready. Once we’d settled with the food, Paisley launched into a conversation about the long lines at the monkey bars, which allowed me to focus on the ideas stomping around in my mind about mental health patients and the likelihood one of them might actually have become deadly. The more I thought about it, the less certain I was that the killer, should Cass be able to prove there was one, had been a patient. Perhaps a past lover, a poker buddy who owed a debt, or a business rival Doctor Conover might have poached from.
Chapter 4
Tuesday
As I frequently did, I woke while it was still dark and headed toward the attic. During the summer when the sun rose early, I would watch as it climbed its way over the distant mountain, but more often than not during the short days of winter, the sky would still be dark when I climbed into the window seat with a hand knitted blanket and Aunt Gracie’s cat, Alastair. There was something so peaceful about the moon shining down on the frozen white landscape, or the stars, too numerous to count, twinkling brightly overhead. I loved these quiet mornings with just my thoughts and the cat. I knew daybreak would arrive soon enough, and with my busy schedule, I’d really have to scramble to keep up with what would come with the arrival of the sun.
Alastair curled up in my lap as I went over my plan for the day in my mind. I usually liked to spend a few minutes catching up with Tom and Aunt Gracie, whether I stopped to eat breakfast or not. Most days, I’d head into the newspaper first thing, but today I planned to head directly to Cass’s office. I knew he’d spoken to Dale’s abuse patient, and I was more than just a little interested in what he’d found out. I supposed that if I had time, I could stop by the newspaper after I chatted with Cass. I still needed to pop in on Lettie Harper to discuss the plans for the Sweetheart Dance, and there was the town council meeting at noon. After the council meeting was concluded, I had two Ms. Cupid interviews set up, followed by my volunteer shifts at the animal shelter. Yep, I thought to myself as I snuggled up with the cat, today was going to be a busy one.
“Callie you in there?” Aunt Gracie knocked twice on the attic door and then came inside.
“You’re up early,” I greeted as she turned on the desk lamp to provide something other than moonlight in the otherwise dark room.
“Ned just called. Nora has taken a turn for the worse, and he is going to take her to the specialist in Denver. He asked if I would go in and open the store.” Ned and Nora Nottaway owned the general store.
“Oh, no. I hope Nora will be okay. She’s been doing so well.”
“Ned thinks that the cold she got a few weeks ago turned into something more. She’s been responding well to the cancer treatments, but after everything she’s been through, her immune system has been compromised. I’m going to jump in the shower and then head over there. Tom will be by around eight for breakfast. Do you mind letting him know what’s going on?”
“I’m happy to pass on the message, but doesn’t he have text?”
“Tom doesn’t have a phone of any kind. He tried a cell but didn’t like it, so when it broke, he never replaced it. And his little cottage never has had a landline. I could just tape a note to his door, but if you’ll be here…”
“I’ll be here until around nine, and I’m happy to pass the message along. Please let me know if I can do anything. Anything at all.”
“Ned assured me that he has staff coming in, so I should only have to stay a few hours. He asked if I could stop by to lock up if they admitted Nora, and they have to stay over. He’s going to call me later. I guess we’ll just have to see how it all plays out.”
My heart ached for this very sweet couple. I hated that their lives seemed to revolve almost entirely around doctor visits. I hoped with my whole being that Nora would fully recover, and both Ned and Nora could return to their normal lives.
After Gracie headed toward the shower, I headed downstairs with Alastair. I made coffee and then gave the cat food and water. His cat box was in good shape, so Gracie must have cleaned it late in the day yesterday. Once the coffee finished brewing, I poured a mug and then headed upstairs to take a shower and get dressed. By the time I came back down, Gracie was gone. I figured that Tom could make his own breakfast since Gracie was away, but I was hungry, so I made a breakfast casserole and stuck it in the oven.
After pouring a second cup of coffee, I looked out the window at the frozen landscape. It had been a hard winter this year. Living in the Rocky Mountains, residents expected a good amount of snow, but this year, the snow gods had really outdone themselves. Generally, I liked the snow, and I could remember the feeling of excitement that would fill the air when the first flakes of the season fell, but I wasn’t a fan of the bitter cold. I was ready for the warmer and longer days of summer to arrive. I’d enjoyed ice skating with Paisley, but it would be just as fun to swim in the lake or to take Gracie’s old rowboat out.
The timer dinged on the oven just as Tom came through the kitchen door.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Egg and spinach casserole. I’m afraid Gracie had to go into town early, so I made it, but it looks edible.”
Tom hung up his jacket. “I’m sure it will taste as good as it smells. So, why did Gracie head out so early?”
I explained about Ned’s early morning call to Gracie.
Tom’s lips tightened. “That poor thing. She’s been through so much. She really could use a break. If the cancer isn’t enough, now she has to deal with the common flu.”
“Let’s hope it’s the common flu. I’m afraid that these things have a way of getting real serious real fast when someone has been as sick as Nora for as long as she’s been ill.” I sliced the casserole and set a large piece on a plate. “Would you like toast?”
“I would, but I’ll get it. Do you want a piece as well?”
I slid the second piece of the casserole onto a second plate. “Sure, I guess.” After setting both plates on the table, I refilled my coffee and poured a mug for Tom.
“So, what are you up to today?” Tom asked.
I went through the schedule I’d already outlined in my mind.
“So has Cass settled in on some suspects?” he asked after I’d mentioned that I planned to meet with Cass to discuss his progress.
“A few. I’m not sure they can even be referred to as suspects. Maybe people of interest would be better. As far as I know, Cass has no reason to suspect anyone specifically, but he is looking into some of the victim’s relationships. As a psychologist, Dale dealt with all sorts of people.”
Tom took a bite of his egg dish. “I guess that’s true. The guys and I were chatting about it when I stopped by the lodge last night. The popular opinion amongst those who knew Dale was that the killer was more likely to be someone from his past than from his present.”
I frowned. “From his past? What do you mean by that?”
“I guess the guy was responsible for sending Clay Barrow to prison.”
“Clay Barrow?”
“He’s a crime boss based in Chicago. Before moving to Foxtail Lake and opening a small practice in his home, I guess Dale worked for a large firm in Chicago. Somehow he found out that one of his patients had inside information that he realized could be used to send Barrow to prison for a good long time, so he asked around a bit until he found someone in law enforcement he trusted, and then he shared what he knew. Of course, the whole thing wasn’t as simple as that. The guy is, after all, a crime boss. But I guess the information supplied by Dale led the Fed’s down a road of inquiry that eventually led to his arrest and conviction.”
I frowned. “Why do you know this and Cass doesn’t? Or at least he didn’t the last time I saw him.”
“He knows now. I used the phone at the lodge and called and told him. Apparently, Smitty is, or I guess I should say was, someh
ow related to the late Doctor Conover, which by the way, is not his real name.”
“It’s not?” I asked.
Tom shook his head. “He changed it after the thing in Chicago was over. I think Smitty said his real name is Glen Breeland.”
“I guess it makes sense that he’d not only change his residence but change his name if he did end up on the hit list of some really bad people. I wonder why he chose Foxtail Lake.”
“Smitty said the reason he moved to Foxtail Lake was because he’d been here before. I guess he used to visit Smitty’s family sometimes when they were kids.”
I supposed that made sense as well. “So if the killer doesn’t turn out to be a patient, then it could be someone associated with this crime boss. Maybe a family member or gang member who is out for some payback.”
Tom shrugged. “It’s a story that works for me.” He got up and refilled his coffee. “More?” He held up the pot.
“No. I think I’ve had enough. I should clean this up and head into town.”
“I’ll clean up the kitchen; you go ahead and do what you need to do.”
“Thanks.” I decided to take him up on his offer since I really did have a lot to do. “Gracie didn’t think she’d be long. In fact, she indicated she’d be home before lunch.”
“That works for me. Once I clean up in here, I’ll continue with my painting.”
“It’s nice of Gracie to go to so much effort for Paisley.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, I guess, but I think that Gracie is getting more out of this sewing idea than anyone. I know the reasons she chose not to settle down and have children, but I don’t think those reasons have made it any easier for her to live with the emptiness left by what she could and should have had if she’d just let herself.”
“I guess she was protecting not only herself but any man she might fall in love with.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Maybe. But Gracie lived her whole life governed by a curse that, in my opinion, is nothing but a bunch of hogwash.”
“Maybe you’re right, but maybe you’re wrong. I know that believing in a curse seems pretty out there, but both Gracie’s sister and her niece chose not to believe in the curse, and both married and then died at a young age. I know that the concept of a curse is hard for most folks to wrap their head around, but Gracie believes in its power with all her heart, and quite frankly, so do I.”
With that, I headed upstairs to gather my belongings. Believing in something as abstract as a curse wasn’t an easy road to travel. Most folks thought I’d plum lost my mind if I dared to bring it up, so mostly I didn’t. And I will admit that there had been times in my life when I actually did stop to wonder if I wasn’t crazy for believing in such a thing, but my parents had died as the curse predicted they would, and in my mind, if something couldn’t be definitively proven one way or another, then it was best to come down on the side of playing it safe.
Chapter 5
Cass was working on the large table in the conference room when I arrived. Milo, who had been sleeping at his feet, got up to greet me.
“You look busy,” I said as I ruffed Milo behind the ears.
He nodded toward the piles of half-burned documents spread out over the table. The table looked the same as it had when I’d been here yesterday. I really couldn’t tell if he was getting anywhere. To the naked eye, it looked as if he wasn’t, but I supposed I should give him credit for knowing what he was doing. Perhaps he was working off some sort of personalized sorting system.
“I’m getting nowhere,” he groaned.
Or maybe not. “Can I help?”
“Not really. The problem is there are large chunks of most of the documents in the top file cabinet that are simply missing. Piecing them together has provided minimal results, and while I guess it’s a worthwhile task to attempt, I feel I might make better use of my time by interviewing folks who might actually know what was going on with Dale.”
“So have Gwen work on this,” I suggested.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.” He stood up and pushed his hands into his lower back. I wondered how long he’d been sitting there.
“I spoke to Tom this morning,” I informed him. “He has an interesting theory.”
Cass nodded. “If you are referring to the theory relating to Clay Barrow, I do agree that the lead is an intriguing one that hasn’t previously been brought to light. I’m waiting to hear back from my contact in the FBI, but based on my initial conversation with the people who monitor these sorts of things, there doesn’t seem to be a consensus that anyone from Dale’s old life followed up and tried to find him after he changed his name and moved.”
“But a crime boss went to prison. It seems like there would be someone out to get revenge on whoever put him there.”
Cass began reboxing some of the piles of paperwork he’d already gone through. “That may be true, but according to what I’ve been told, the man Dale spilled the beans about wasn’t a popular guy, and even those who worked for him are happy he’s gone. Clay is not only in prison but in an extremely secure prison with no outside contact. They seemed to think that it was unlikely, yet admittedly not impossible, that Dale was killed by one of Clay’s men.”
“So, you’re back to the patient theory?”
“For now. I spoke to Helen Prosect. She confirmed that her husband was an abusive man and that she had been his punching bag for years. She also confirmed that Doctor Conover was responsible for convincing her to leave the man, and he is the one who arranged for her to spend time in the women’s shelter.”
“Did her husband know all of this?” I wondered.
“Helen wasn’t sure, but she assumed he put two and two together when she never came home. She’s fairly certain that he doesn’t know where she is since he hasn’t shown up, but she said she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if her husband showed up at Doctor Conover’s place and had it out with him.”
“Is had it out with him code for murder him?”
He nodded. “That seemed to be the message she was conveying.”
“So, what now? Are you going to bring him in?” I asked.
“I’m going to speak to him, but I’m not going to arrest him. At least not yet. I don’t have grounds to do so, and honestly, at this point, I’m not sure that he’s our guy. I am, however, looking into things to determine where Mr. Prosect was during the window of time when Conover was murdered. I should get feedback on a few feelers I have out there this morning.”
“And the other patients Lissa mentioned? Have you figured out who those people are yet?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping that I’ll find a clue somewhere in this mess.”
“What about phone records?” I asked.
“Gwen informed me that we received them about two minutes before you walked in. I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet.”
“It seems like it might be important to know who Dale spoke to on the day he died.”
“I agree. If you want to walk to my office with me, we’ll take a look.”
“I have a few minutes. Only a few since I have a meeting in about an hour with Lettie Harper about the Sweetheart Dance, which by the way, I’ve been asked to cover for the newspaper. You wouldn’t want to go with me, would you? As friends? To keep me company. We don’t even have to dance if you don’t want to.”
Cass smiled. “I’d be happy to go with you, and I like to dance. We can work out the details later. Right now, let’s see who Dale Conover has been chatting with.”
I got up and followed Cass into his office. He sat down at his computer. Once he’d logged on, he opened his inbox and clicked on the document. “It looks like the last call made from Dale’s cell was to a blocked number. Before that, he received two consecutive calls from Lissa. I recognize the number from our interview.” He pursed his lips and continued to read. “There are several calls to a blocked number over the week before the fire, and a whole lotta calls from Lissa as well. I’ll need to track down the rest of thes
e numbers.”
“Any calls to Lissa?” I wondered.
Cass narrowed his gaze as he went through the list. “No. The last call from Dale to Lissa from his cell phone was more than three weeks ago. Since then, Lissa has called frequently, but, unless Dale used another phone to initiate calls, all of the calls have been from her to him.”
“Do you have his home and office phone records as well?”
He nodded. “It’s going to take some time for me to identify all the numbers. I’ll probably have Gwen track them all down.”
“Are there any that seem to pop up more frequently than the others?” I asked.
Cass scrolled through the information on his screen. “There is one number listed as having called his home phone several times a day from as far back as these records go. I’ll need to track that one down right away. There’s also a call to a number with a Denver area code made from Dale’s office line that might be whomever he went to Denver to visit. That will be on my list to track down right away as well.”
“Did you ever find his tablet?” I wondered, knowing that he had planned to look for it.
“Actually, I did. It was with his laptop in the trunk of his car. Both the tablet and laptop are undamaged, but the password for each is six digits. Lissa said to try either Bingo or Bingo95. One is five digits, and the other one is seven, but I’ve tried all sorts of combinations such as Bingo9, Bingo5, and Bngo95. I plan to keep trying different combinations, but my sense is that the password is something other than Bingo.”
“What about a birthday. A lot of people use birthdays.”
“I tried his birthday, and I also tried Lissa’s birthday. I’ll keep at it. I just found the tablet and computer this morning, so I haven’t had a chance to really explore options.”
“Was the car in Dale’s garage? I didn’t see one in the driveway.”
Cass shook his head. “Actually, the car wasn’t on the property at all. I looked for it on Friday. The whole reason we didn’t find the tablet and laptop until this morning is because we didn’t find the car until this morning.”
