The Case of the Unfettered Utonagan

by B R Snow

  Chapter 10

  I was up early the next morning. I let the house dogs out to take care of business then made coffee and toasted an English muffin while I waited for it to brew. It didn’t take long for the dogs to make their presence known at the back door, and I let them back in. All four were covered in snow.

  “You guys were out there five minutes. How the heck did you manage that?” I said with a laugh. “Shake.”

  They did and I shook my head at the dusting of snow that flew off them and drifted down onto the tile floor. I toweled them off, gave them snacks then watched them head for the living room. I dragged the towel across the floor with my foot and tossed it into the hamper we kept near the door. I devoured the muffin, poured myself a cup of coffee then joined the dogs in the living room. They were already curled up in front of the fireplace. Chloe looked up at me expectantly.

  “Not a chance,” I said, laughing. “If you want a fire, you’ll have to wait for Josie and Chef Claire to get up.”

  Chloe snorted then tucked herself close to Captain who was already sound asleep. I set my coffee down on an end table then fired up Peters’ laptop. I grabbed a pen and pad of paper and sat down on the far end of the couch. Al and Dente, Chef Claire’s Goldens, made a beeline for the couch and were soon battling for space. As I waited for them to get settled, I began jotting down several questions I was hoping to get answered.

  Before I could make much progress, Josie entered the living room, yawning and stretching.

  “Good morning. You’re getting an early start. Coffee on?”

  “It is,” I said.

  She headed to the fireplace and spent a few minutes saying hello to Captain and Chloe. Then she did the same with Al and Dente.

  “You want a top up?” she said, heading for the kitchen.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.” I said, opening Peters’ email. “Hey, good morning.”

  Chef Claire was in the doorway, also in the process of trying to wake up.

  “What time did you get home last night?” I said.

  “It was pretty late. After we closed the dining room, we locked up and had an impromptu staff party in the lounge.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “It won’t be long,” Chef Claire said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, rubbing my stomach. “Just ready for this to be over. You going cross-country skiing today?”

  “No, I’m taking the day off. I thought I’d spend it in front of the fire reading and playing with the dogs.”

  “Not the briar patch,” Josie said, returning with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Chef Claire then sipped hers. “I’m going to do the same thing.”

  “Nothing on your calendar?” I said.

  “Not a thing,” Josie said. “Did you find anything yet?”

  “Just getting started,” I said, jotting down a note.

  “I can’t believe Detective Williams asked for your help,” Chef Claire said. “When it comes to your involvement, he’s usually…”

  “Snarky?”

  “I was going to say guarded, but close enough.”

  I concentrated on the emails and was soon oblivious to my surroundings. I opened the one I’d read yesterday and started by making a list of the beneficiaries. There were five. Besides Lacey, they included Peters’ wife, his brother, a woman named Clarissa, and a man who appeared to be a business associate of Peters. I closed the document and continued scrolling through the correspondence between Peters and his lawyer. I paused when I noticed an email with Updated Will in the subject line. I read it with a frown then opened the attached document.

  Josie noticed the puzzled look on my face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Something is bugging me. Maybe it’s just the fact that Peters hired Larry to do his will. It seems strange.”

  Josie and Chef Claire both put their books down.

  “Maybe they were buddies,” Josie said.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “But Larry the Loser isn’t the sort of guy who has a lot of friends.”

  “I remember him from the restaurant,” Chef Claire said. “He’s really creepy. None of the servers want him sitting in their stations.”

  “He’s always staring around the dining room,” Josie said.

  “Probably waiting for somebody to choke on a chicken bone so he can sue the restaurant,” I said.

  “Have you ever used him?” Chef Claire said.

  “My mom hired him once to handle the contract for a piece of property she was buying. He was having trouble getting his business off the ground, so she decided to throw some work his way. But he completely screwed it up.”

  “What happened?” Chef Claire said.

  “He put the wrong address in the contract. It didn’t get noticed until my mom got a phone call from one of her friends wondering what the heck she was doing trying to buy their place. You know, since it wasn’t actually for sale.”

  “How embarrassing for her,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Yeah, Larry almost blew the deal,” I said. “That was the last time she tried to help him out.”

  “What kind of legal work does he do?” Chef Claire said.

  “I think it’s pretty much basic contract stuff,” I said. “But he’s always looking for a chance to take on personal injury lawsuits. Last year, he got a guy fifty thousand for a fall he took at Jackson’s store.”

  “What happened to the guy?” Chef Claire said.

  “He slipped on a grape,” I said. “And guess who just happened to be in the store when it happened?”

  “I’m gonna go with Larry the Loser for a thousand, Alex,” Josie said.

  “Bingo. And guess what was in Larry’s shopping cart?”

  “Grapes?”

  “You’re on fire today,” I said, then focused on the computer screen.

  I spent the next several minutes reviewing the email correspondence between Peters and the lawyer. I was about to move on when my neurons surged. I flinched, startling both Goldens who were still sprawled out next to me on the couch.

  “Here we go,” Josie said, glancing over at me.

  “She’s got the look,” Chef Claire said with a grin. “That didn’t take long.”

  “What have you got, Snoopmeister?” Josie said, setting her book down.

  “I’m not sure. But something seems off,” I said, studying the email I was reading. “What the heck is it?”

  “Just let it marinate for a while,” Josie said, then went back to her book.

  I did.

  I stared into the crackling fire and waited for some clarity to bubble to the surface. I rubbed my eyes and forced myself to relax. I reread the email then sighed loudly.

  “You want some help?” Josie said, again putting her book down.

  “Listen to this. It’s the last email from Larry dealing with the will,” I said, then read from the email. “Dear, Jeremy. Pursuant to our last conversation, I have made the minor edits to page seven. Attached is a PDF copy, and I have the original here in my office along with your asset inventory and instructions for their distribution at the time of your death. The edits are limited to spelling corrections and other minor cosmetic changes. I have deleted the previous page seven and updated the document with the new version. As such, there is no need for you to resign it. Simply delete the previous version and replace it with this one. Should you have any questions or need to discuss anything further, blah, blah, blah. Sincerely, Lawrence Lamplighter.”

  I glanced over at Josie who stared back at me and shrugged.

  “What’s bugging you about that? It sounds pretty straightforward,” she said.

  “I’m no lawyer,” I said. “But shouldn’t any updated version of a contract be signed again?”

  “Maybe Peters didn’t want to make the drive into town,” Josie said. “Or he couldn’t get Larry to come to him.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can make that work,” I said, minimizi
ng the email and scanning the other icons on the desktop screen.

  “What are you looking for?” Josie said.

  “Just checking to see if Peters didn’t get around to deleting the earlier version,” I said. “I’m looking for a folder named Personal or something like that.”

  “She’s nothing if not thorough,” Chef Claire said, then went back to her book.

  “Probably not the word I would use.”

  “Shut it.”

  I continued studying the names of the icons on the screen then spotted something that piqued my curiosity.

  “Here we go,” I said, opening a folder titled Life Crap. I reviewed the list of documents contained in the folder then beamed at both of them. “Well, look at this.”

  “You found it?” Josie said.

  “I did.” I scrolled through the document and compared it to the updated version of the will the lawyer had attached to the email. “Larry didn’t even bother changing the date. Why would he do that?”

  “Lazy?” Chef Claire said.

  “Or he didn’t see the need since the changes were so minor,” Josie said.

  I studied the two identical signature pages then scrolled back to page seven in both documents. I noticed a handful of minor edits, all spelling corrections as the lawyer had referenced in his email. Then a deep frown emerged and remained fixed in place.

  “What’s the matter?” Josie said.

  “Take a look,” I said, turning the laptop so she could see the screen.

  Josie approached the couch and sat down. Al opened one eye and stared at her as if daring her to ask him to move.

  “Relax, Al,” Josie said, rubbing the Golden’s head. “What am I looking for?”

  “Compare the pages,” I said, my neurons on fire.

  “Let me see,” Chef Claire said, leaning over the back of the couch. “You’re right. The signatures are identical. And they both have the same date.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They’re definitely the same on both versions.”

  “I’m not picking anything up,” Josie said.

  “Look at the top of the page on both documents,” I said, scrolling back and forth.

  “They start with different text,” Josie said.

  “They do.”

  “But doesn’t that make sense?” Chef Claire said. “The layout probably changed when he made the edits.”

  “No, I just looked at the edits Larry referenced in his email,” I said, shaking my head. “They’re very minor and wouldn’t have changed the layout. And those edits didn’t start until page seven.”

  “Maybe there were other changes earlier in the document,” Chef Claire said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” I said, scrolling back to the first page of both documents. Then I moved to page two. I studied them then flinched. Josie barely reacted.

  “I was ready for that one,” she said, studying the documents.

  “You were on Flinch Alert?”

  “I was.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head as I compared the two versions.

  “That I was ready for it?” Josie said, confused.

  “No. I can’t believe Lamplighter had the cojones to pull this off,” I said, pointing at the list of people named in the will. “The beneficiaries start at the bottom of page one and continue on the next. This is amazing.”

  “He added himself as a beneficiary?” Josie said, stunned.

  “It certainly looks like it,” I said.

  “But how could Peters not pick that up?” Chef Claire said.

  “The guy named his personal folder, Life Crap,” I said. “My guess is Peters hated it when life got in the way of his research. Maybe Larry rolled the dice and figured Peters wouldn’t spend much time looking at it.”

  “And his email referenced the minor edits on page seven,” Josie said. “Peters probably took a quick look at them and didn’t even bother reviewing the rest of the document.”

  “It’s actually quite brilliant,” Chef Claire said, then caught the looks we were giving her. “You know, from a criminal standpoint.”

  “Yeah,” I said, giving it some thought. “Especially if Peters and Larry were the only two who knew what was actually in the will.”

  “And since Peters would be dead when the will was read, who would ever know?” Chef Claire said.

  “It is pretty clever,” I said. Then my neurons surged, and I scrolled back to the signature page. “Hang on.”

  “What?” Josie said, staring at the screen.

  “There’s a witness listed on the signature page,” I said, studying the name. “Althea Jones. She was Larry’s assistant.”

  “Was?” Josie said.

  “Althea left town a few months ago,” I said.

  “I did not know that,” Josie said.

  “She moved somewhere out west.”

  “You think she might be involved?”

  “Hang on. Just give me a sec,” I said, studying the date of the contract and the email Larry had sent Peters. “There’s a two-month gap between the date of the will and the email where Larry mentions the edited one. I don’t think Althea left the area until after the date on the email.”

  “Maybe she’s getting a cut,” Josie said.

  “It’s certainly possible,” I said.

  “That should be easy enough to check,” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah, I’ll ask the Chief tonight to track her down,” I said. “He confirmed he’s coming to family dinner. That reminds me. Whose turn is it to cook?”

  “Mine,” Josie said. “How does beef bourguignon with a sweet potato-celeriac mash sound?”

  “Like music to my ears,” I said, not looking up from the document.

  “Would you mind swinging by the restaurant and grabbing a loaf of the rustic Italian?” Josie said to Chef Claire. “On second thought, you might want to get two.”

  “No problem,” Chef Claire said, then focused on me. “If this gets out, isn’t it the end of Larry’s legal career?”

  “You mean when it gets out, right?” I said. “Yeah, he’ll be toast. But that could end up being the least of his problems.”

  “You think he might have killed Peters?” Josie said.

  “Well, the guy went to all the trouble of adding himself as a beneficiary. And the only way the will gets read is if Peters is dead.”

  “Can’t argue with your logic,” Josie said with a shrug. “That must mean Larry probably also modified how Peters’ assets were going to be distributed.”

  “It does,” I said. “I wonder what he gave himself.”

  “We’ll know after the will gets read,” Josie said.

  “Yeah, but I’d love to hear it while it’s being read,” I said.

  “But as soon as the cops hear what Larry’s been up to, that’s going to postpone the reading of the will,” Chef Claire said.

  “Not necessarily,” I said, grinning as I glanced back and forth at them.

  “This oughta be good,” Josie said.

  “Oh, it’s good,” I said, my neurons on full-tilt. “All we need is our two cop buddies willing to go along with it and a sympathetic judge.”

  Josie thought about my comment then the penny dropped.

  “Judge Thompson, right?”

  “Nothing gets past you.”

  “That’s brilliant.”

  “Aren’t you sweet.”

  Chapter 11

  I pulled the Chief by his shirtsleeve as soon as he got his coat off and nodded for him to follow me into the living room. I poured him a glass of wine and sat down across from him. He took a sip, nodded his approval then smiled when he saw the look on my face.

  “How was your day?” he said, going for coy.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “If there’s one thing I know, it’s when your brain has been working overtime,” he said, taking another sip. “What have you got?”

  “Larry the Loser added himself as a beneficiary to Peters’ will.”

&n
bsp; “What?” he said, stunned.

  I spent a few minutes telling him the story, and he listened closely, alternating sips of wine with nods and the occasional head shake. When I finished, I sat back and waited for questions.

  “I always knew the guy was a bottom feeder, but this is a new low. Even for him,” the Chief said, holding his glass out so I could top it off.

  “Did you get a chance to talk to him?”

  “No, he’s been out of town and just got back today. Detective Williams and I are meeting with him in the morning. You mentioned there was a witness.”

  “Yes. Althea Jones.”

  “I remember her. She left town a few months ago.”

  “She did.”

  “Let me give Detective Williams a call,” he said, reaching for his phone. “Hey. It’s Chief Abrams…Yeah, I’m good. Sorry to bother you, but we’ve had a bit of a breakthrough…She did…Yeah, it was fast, wasn’t it? Actually, Suzy’s right here. You want to talk to her?”

  “Invite him to dinner,” I said.

  “Good idea,” the Chief said. “What are we having?”

  “Beef bourguignon.”

  “Great. With the rustic Italian?”

  “Of course.”

  “Suzy just invited you to dinner,” the Chief said into the phone. “No, not the restaurant. At her place. Trust me, you don’t want to miss it…That’s great. We’ll be here. Hang on. Before you go, I was wondering if you could run a name for us…Althea Jones. Formerly of Clay Bay, but now living somewhere out west. I think she was heading to Colorado…Okay, we’ll see you in a bit.” The Chief ended the call. “He’s on his way.”

  “Perfect,” I said, then spotted my mother and Paulie heading for us. “Hey, Mom. You look great. Nice outfit. Is that new?”

  “Rhetorical, right?” Paulie said, grinning at me.

  “Oh, hush,” my mother said, squeezing his arm before sitting down.

  “Did I get that right?” Paulie said.

  “You did,” I said, laughing. “Well played.”

  “I spent yesterday in Montreal shopping for my new granddaughter. But I decided I might as well pick something up for myself while I was there.”

  “It looks great,” I said. “But if you keep buying crap for her, we’re going to have to build an addition to hold it all.”