Saddled with Murder

by Eileen Brady

  The huge modern garage built next to the old farmhouse looked out of place. It stored Pinky’s equipment and vehicles—riding mowers and gardening tools for his summer jobs and plows, snowblowers, and a slew of other things for his winter jobs.

  “He’s got at least two trucks that I know of,” Luke told me as we walked along the bluestone pathway to the front stairs. “I saw them multiple times in the parking lot of the diner. He and his mom used to eat there twice a week or so. Now Pinky only does takeout.” He gestured to the large flower beds sleeping under the snow. “All the formal landscaping here in front was designed by his mother. She was a well-known amateur gardener who always competed at the county fair in Rhinebeck. Pinky learned a lot from her.”

  Let’s hope he didn’t learn to shoot first and ask questions later.

  * * *

  The first thing I noticed when Pinky let us in was the smell—the smell of roses. I once knew a girl in high school who used some kind of rose petal perfume that permeated everything she wore. At first pleasant, it became more cloying the longer you were in contact with it.

  “Pinky,” I said as we followed him along an open corridor, “I smell roses. Do you grow them inside?”

  My answer came when we burst into a small room covered with delicate rose-patterned wallpaper. The Queen herself would have approved. On the mantel stood two glass vases with oil infusion sticks in them.

  “Mommy liked the smell of roses, especially in the parlor.” He gestured for us to sit in the upholstered armchairs opposite the sofa. Each piece of furniture was encased in plastic. An underlying aroma of furniture polish competed with the floral odor. The room was spotless.

  “Ah, we came because Dr. Kate here is worried about the recent deaths in town.” Luke gently laid out a stage for questioning that Pinky couldn’t object to. “Do you know anything about them you might tell us?”

  He didn’t appear to be listening to Luke but instead began searching the room.

  “She’s over here, next to my chair,” I said. Princess had risen from her fluffy bed to rest under a side table against my leg.

  Obviously relieved, he relaxed his shoulders. “I wondered where she’d gotten to.” His face beamed at the sight of the old dog. I scratched her graying muzzle.

  Luke knew better than to try and hurry Pinky along. “How old is she now?”

  “She just turned thirteen. And she’s doing really well with her congestion thanks to Dr. Kate.” At the sound of his voice Princess cast me aside and walked over to her owner. He scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his lap.

  Leaning forward, Luke continued, “That’s why we’re here. Dr. Kate wants to know if you can tell us anything about Eloise’s or Frank’s death? We know the police interviewed you, since you plowed both of their driveways.”

  The word plowing caught Pinky’s attention. “Still do until everything is sorted out. You know,” he glanced over at me this time, “Mommy’s lawyer said I’m not allowed to talk about murder. But I can talk about plowing, I guess.”

  “Right. Until the estate has been settled you have to plow. People need to be able to get up the driveway.” That made me realize how much access to so many properties Pinky had. Few residents question the guy with the snowplow, especially if he’s plowing in the middle of the night.

  If Pinky didn’t do it, he might have seen who did.

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I carefully crafted a question for him. “Did you see anyone else at Eloise’s or Frank’s place the night they passed away? Maybe someone you didn’t know or were surprised about?” Knowing his angry feelings for Raeleen, I bypassed her murder for now.

  Pinky’s light blue eyes remained blank.

  “Maybe a car or truck on the road that you didn’t expect?” Luke threw out a wide net of possibilities, but Pinky looked confused.

  “Ahh, I’m not sure. Please don’t be mad at me,” the big guy pleaded.

  Pinky probably felt like we were ganging up on him. It was important that he not be bullied, especially by me. “Luke and I aren’t mad at you, Pinky,” I explained. “This is like a puzzle that we’re trying to put together. Someone may have harmed Frank or Eloise and if they did, they must be punished.”

  He nodded emphatically. “Bad deeds should not go unpunished.”

  “Did your mom tell you that?” Luke quickly glanced over at me, as if signaling something.

  “Yes, she did,” he answered. In a singsong voice, he continued, “An eye for an eye, and let the Devil have his day.”

  Things were getting mixed up.

  Spurred by memory, Pinky continued. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, especially if it’s your neighbor’s bush. That was one of her favorites.” His head bobbed up and down as Princess slept quietly in his lap. “Mommy believed in angels, too. She was always seeing them, sometimes in the supermarket or gas station. One time at Kmart.”

  “What about the night you found Mrs. Rieven, Pinky?”

  “Miss Eloise was on the ground in the dark. I saw her with my headlights. She looked like she was asleep, but I knew she wasn’t because I got out and asked her.” He looked straight at Luke like a schoolboy reciting his lesson.

  “Was anyone else around?”

  Pinky shook his head no.

  “Can you tell us about Frank Martindale now?”

  This time Pinky appeared uncomfortable and wiggled in his seat. Princess lifted her head then set it down again on his lap. “Mr. Frank was mean. He didn’t want to pay me. I told him I was going to tell Cindy and she would have a talk with him.” After the last sentence he visibly relaxed.

  Before either of us could ask another question, he surprised us.

  “That’s why I know you have a guardian angel watching over you, Dr. Kate.” Pinky lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because I saw him.”

  * * *

  After sifting through some talk about smiting evil, we finally separated out a few facts. Pinky had seen something white moving out of the corner of his eye the night Frank Martindale died. He swore it had wings. That’s why he wasn’t surprised the next morning to find Frank had passed.

  Unfortunately, that’s about all we got out of Pinky. That and the lingering smell of roses.

  “I didn’t realize angels watched YouTube videos,” Luke commented while we crept along the driveway.

  “Maybe they’re looking for angel food cake recipes,” I joked.

  “So if someone drove up to Frank’s place, I wonder where they stashed the car?”

  Not being familiar with the area, I didn’t have any suggestions.

  “Both Eloise’s and Frank’s properties border on National Forest land,” he noted, “like most of the older homesteads around here. The farmers cleared right up to the tree line. They’d hunt game in the woods and build their homes on the flatter land, closer to the road for convenience.”

  That answered a question I’d had about why so many of my house-call clients had land that backed up to the mountains.

  “Plenty of logging roads, hunting trails, and small cabins in those woods,” he added. “Quite a few share access lanes.”

  At the top of Pinky’s property Luke abruptly turned the wheel to the right. We slid a bit before coming to a stop. “Want to go look at Frank’s place?” he asked.

  “Sure. Safety in numbers.” My Gramps would approve.

  Of course we’d be trespassing a little, but what the heck. As an Oak Falls police officer currently on leave, Luke was the perfect accomplice.

  * * *

  “Uh, oh.”

  Lights shone brightly at Frank Martindale’s home, an unwelcome surprise. We parked next to a Mercedes SUV pulled up close to the stairs. If someone was burglarizing the place, they had good taste in vehicles.

  “Wait here,” Luke said.

  “No way,” I answered an
d opened the passenger side door.

  We both hurried up the stairs to the front door. I noticed several boards that appeared loose and a rung missing along the railing. All the coming and going were taking a toll on this porch. His typical stone house needed some emergency TLC.

  “It used to be nice when Frank’s brother, Chuck, lived here,” Luke said, ringing the bell. The sound of a television could be heard inside.

  Chuck? Who the heck was Chuck?

  Someone opened the door and peered out with the chain still engaged. All I could see was half a man’s face wearing glasses.

  “Sorry to disturb you but…”

  “Aren’t you Officer Luke Gianetti? Just a second.” The door opened to reveal a slim middle-aged man in a suit and glasses. Not typical burglar couture.

  “Sorry but I don’t recognize you.”

  “Come inside,” he told us, “and shut the door firmly. It sticks.” We followed him into a living room crowded with old pieces of furniture haphazardly stored between towers of cardboard boxes. The wooden desk I remembered lay on its side. Someone had scrawled Comic Books on one box with a Sharpie, on another Dolls.

  The recliner I’d discovered the body in had been removed. I didn’t see the huge television either.

  “Frank appeared to have been quite a collector,” Luke commented.

  “Quite a hoarder was old Frank. I’m the deceased’s lawyer, Salvatore Tregari, by the way. One of his many lawyers.”

  “This is Kate.” Luke deliberately offered no more information about me. “Sal Tregari. Yes, I recognize you now,” he said. “There was a shoplifting case I testified for. Nice lady with a bad habit.”

  “That’s right.” He cleared a space for all of us to sit down. For some reason our showing up out of the blue didn’t bother him at all. “What can I do for you?”

  “Sorry. We were driving by and saw the lights, and I wondered who was here.”

  “Got it.” Salvatore gestured with his hands at the mess around them. “You probably thought I’d be family. Except no family has come forward. I was arguing a case for Frank the morning of his death so the judge appointed me administrator. I’m hoping we can find a will somewhere.”

  The lawyer didn’t slow down for comments from us. His voice sped up as he continued, “When Frank had hernia surgery, he told the nurse he had a will, and she put it in his notes along with the DNR he signed. We found those hospital papers on his desk but no will. Turned the desk upside down looking for hidden drawers but nothing. What the heck did he do with it? So far there might be a second cousin in California, but we’re waiting for birth certificates. Time marches on, so I figured I’d look around again for evidence of a will or a relative. As you can see, that’s going to be harder than anyone thought.”

  Taking advantage of a break in his monologue, Luke said, “I wish I could help you. Chuck and Frank were the only two siblings. Both parents died quite a while ago, and Chuck died almost seven years ago. Frank moved back into the house when Chuck passed, and I don’t think I’ve been here since.”

  “Ever hear Frank talk about striking it rich?”

  “No.”

  “What about visiting cousins or other relatives? Maybe from the city or out of state?”

  Luke shook his head. “No one comes to mind. I’ll ask my grandmother. If she remembers anything, I’ll call your office. Do you have a card?”

  The lawyer slid a hand into his suit jacket and came out with a silver-plated cardholder. He then handed his business card to Luke. “You can leave a message anytime. If no will is found, the court will appoint an executor and the estate goes into probate.” He glanced around the room. “These cases are trying on everyone involved because you don’t want assets to go into probate if they rightfully belong to an heir. Everyone blames the lawyer.”

  “That would be a shame,” I agreed.

  Salvatore ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Hopefully, we can avoid that. Listen, if you don’t mind, I was just leaving. I hoped I might find a wall safe or a floor safe or something like that. Believe me, I didn’t expect it would take so much time.”

  “Me, either,” I muttered under my breath. Frank had hoarded all sorts of things and a lot of them. The house served as more of a warehouse than a home. I wondered if he sold items on eBay or supplied antiques for the auctions so popular in the summer. Maybe he bought storage units hoping to strike it rich, as his lawyer suggested? Once in a while those storage people found a rare item, but most people didn’t.

  What if Frank had found something that got him killed?

  * * *

  Salvatore waited until we left to lock up the house. He still hadn’t moved by the time we were out of sight.

  “Did you get a look out back?” I asked. “Maybe there’s a white flag in the garden or a piece of cloth stuck in a tree that Pinky might have thought was an angel.”

  “Not a bad idea. We’ll have to stop back during the day,” Luke said. “As for Frank finding something valuable on one of his buying trips, that’s doubtful,” he said, waiting for a large truck to pass. “Look at the place.”

  He had a point. I’d snuck a quick peek into some of the other rooms as the two men had been talking. Each space had been packed almost to the ceiling with boxes of stuff, all labeled in Sharpie with Frank’s signature scrawling handwriting. Some of the boxes looked new, while others resembled the kind you get from a supermarket dumpster.

  “Frank may have been my veterinary client,” I said to Luke, “but I didn’t know him that well. Would he brag if he’d struck pay dirt?”

  Luke’s puzzled glance told me he had no idea. “Remember I was friends with his brother more than him. All I remember is Frank always said the government and big business were out to get him. If he struck it rich, I’m not sure if he would gloat about it or stay silent. Wouldn’t want to pay taxes on it, though.”

  “Why all the lawsuits?” The passing landscape suggested Luke was headed back to the animal hospital. For a moment I thought he might suggest someplace else.

  “He was obsessed with people cheating him.” We slowed down near Payson’s Pond before taking a left toward town. Once past the intersection he continued the thought. “It’s ironic because he was known as, how can I put this, being someone who dealt cards from the bottom of the deck.”

  Poor Frank. His life had become a tight little ball of anger toward everyone. Now strangers would catalog his stuff, go through his clothes and tools, and all traces of him would slowly disappear. Had he been murdered or simply overdosed on alcohol and pills? Were his medications deliberately scattered out of reach as he sat helplessly in his armchair, or did they accidentally drop when he passed out? I doubted we’d ever know. In fact, all these unfortunate incidents felt random—except for Raeleen.

  I kept coming back to her. Had she been the target all along?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Back at my place, Luke and I sat on the sofa together, the picture of domestic tranquility except for the massive argument that was taking place.

  “You didn’t think it was important?”

  He backed off a little. “Look, it wasn’t that important to me. I’m so busy it didn’t matter.”

  We weren’t discussing murder, although at the moment, I wanted to murder him.

  “Your ex-girlfriend, Dina, your high school sweetheart, is staying at your cabin, and it wasn’t that important?”

  “Hey, Jeremy was staying here, and you forgot to mention that to me.”

  “Jeremy had a concussion.” Even I realized how ludicrous that sounded, but I said it anyway.

  “Well, I had a brain fart, so we’re even.”

  It’s hard to continue arguing when you’re laughing like fools.

  He reached over and took my hand. “I’ve been renting the cabin out as an Airbnb on weekends when I’m away at school and told Din
a she could stay until the next renter comes in, on Christmas Eve. Then she’s going to live with her mom until she moves into her new place in Kingston on January first. I’m bunking at my grandmother’s place. The whole family knows, and now so do you.”

  Buddy came over and whined for some attention, breaking the mood.

  Luke pet him and scratched his belly. “Dina just started dating some local guy. If you’re that concerned, ask my cousin, Rosie, who doesn’t like Dina, by the way.”

  “So the two of you aren’t…”

  “Just friends. What about you and Jeremy?” His warm hand in mine felt comforting on this cold night.

  “Friends without benefits. His Italian anthropologist sweetie went back to her husband, his girlfriend and, I think, her other boyfriend. It’s all very sophisticated, very European.”

  “Like gelato.”

  My face scrunched up at the thought. “Gelato?”

  “It was either that or lasagna.” He raised both hands in the air as if seeking divine help.

  “I’d go with the gelato.”

  * * *

  For the first time in a long time we talked to each other instead of at each other. I confided my fears about meeting my father and new family, while he revealed that he often had second thoughts about law school and where his future was headed.

  Then we cozied up together and didn’t talk at all.

  * * *

  A bit of romance must have put him in the mood for murder. After getting some relationship details straightened out, Luke took a detour by going back to Raeleen’s death.

  My eyes were drooping but he was revving up. To prove it he grabbed a marker and paced back and forth. “The feeling at the station is that Raeleen’s murder was personal. They’re looking at the boyfriend, Devin, and Pinky. So far neither one has a good alibi for the entire time in question.”

  “What do you mean, ‘entire time’?”

  He started to write on the murder board. “The supermarket closes at eleven and the staff left by eleven thirty. There were only three employees working in the store. Raeleen was the last one out. The stock boy said he saw her in his rearview mirror as he left, looking at her phone and pointing the clicker at her car door. The supermarket camera video confirms that. But instead of getting into the car she stops and looks up at something or hears something in the direction of the dumpster. Then she leaves the car and walks into the trees. We only have visual, no audio.”