The Case of the Unfettered Utonagan

by B R Snow

  “Crap?”

  “Figure of speech, Mom. That was very sweet of you.”

  “Thank you, darling,” she said, pouring wine for both of them. “I assume you spent the day exploring Peters’ computer?”

  “I did,” I said, raising an eyebrow at her. “And I can’t help but get the feeling you’re doing everything you can to control my behavior.”

  “Aren’t you enjoying your assignment?” she said.

  “I am. But that’s not the point. I don’t need you to babysit me.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to disagree about that, darling,” she said, draping a leg over her knee. “Have you found anything yet?”

  “Larry Lamplighter was Peters’ lawyer.”

  “Geez,” my mother grunted. “They’re perfect for each other.”

  “And Larry added himself as a beneficiary to the guy’s will.”

  “Are you joking?” my mother said.

  “Nope,” I said, then focused on Paulie. “You used to be a criminal, right?”

  “Vicious and unfounded rumors,” Paulie said with a crocodile smile.

  Chief Abrams snorted.

  “Please, darling. Don’t start. Why on earth would you bring that up?”

  “I’m just wondering if Paulie ever came across a situation like this.”

  “You mean, a lawyer falsifying documents?” Paulie said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “All the time. But never without the client’s permission.”

  “That’s what I figured,” I said, nodding. “Larry must have been convinced Peters would never find out.”

  “By making sure he was dead?” Paulie said.

  “The thought has crossed my mind. What would you have done if you discovered your lawyer had tried to pull something like that on you?”

  “I’ll refrain from comment,” Paulie said, glancing at the Chief. “But I’m sure you can use your imagination.”

  “What’s he getting from Peters’ estate?” my mother said.

  “We don’t know yet,” I said. “The distribution of assets isn’t going public until the reading of the will.”

  “I didn’t think Larry had it in him to pull something like this off,” my mother said. “But I’m sure it beats staging ‘slip and sue’ accidents.”

  Josie entered the room and topped off her wine glass.

  “Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” she said.

  “It’ll hold, right?” I said. “I just invited Detective Williams, and he’s on his way.”

  “Not a problem,” she said. “I’ll set another place.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we were all sitting at the dining room table. Josie spooned a generous portion of the bourguignon into each bowl then topped them off with the sweet potato-celeriac mash. Chef Claire passed around a cutting board of the sliced Italian rustic then we all went to work on our dinners.

  “Great job,” I said, finally pausing long enough to speak.

  “Thanks,” Josie said, dipping a piece of bread into the red-wine gravy.

  “The mash is wonderful, dear,” my mother said.

  “What else is in it besides sweet potato?” Detective Williams said.

  “Celeriac,” Josie said.

  “I’m picking up celery,” he said.

  “It’s from the celery family,” Chef Claire said. “It grows as a bulb. Like a turnip. It’s good raw, too.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Detective Williams said. “I’m not big on raw vegetables.” His phone buzzed, and he wiped his mouth before getting to his feet. “Sorry, but I need to take this.”

  He headed into the living room, and the rest of us resumed eating and chatting about nothing. A few minutes later, Detective Williams returned and sat down with a frown on his face.

  “Bad news?” the Chief said.

  “Yeah, it was,” he said, toying with his food as he stared off at the far wall. “Surprising news to say the least.”

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” I said, leaning forward.

  “Althea Jones was killed in a car crash,” the detective said. “Her car went off the side of a mountain. A thousand feet. They found her in a ravine. Apparently, she’d been there awhile.”

  “Single car crash?” the Chief said.

  “Yeah.”

  “The poor woman,” I said. “Are the cops calling it accidental?”

  “They don’t have much choice,” Detective Williams said.

  “Why’s that?” Josie said, helping herself to seconds.

  “Have you ever seen a car after a thousand-foot drop?” Detective Williams said. “Not to mention the person who was in it.”

  “Got it,” Josie said with a frown. “Geez. That’s awful. I liked Althea.”

  “She came into the restaurant just before she left town,” Chef Claire said.

  “Who was she with?” I said.

  “Larry the Loser,” Chef Claire said. “They said it was her going away dinner.”

  “How did they seem?” the Chief said.

  Chef Claire gave it some thought then shook her head.

  “Nothing stood out,” she said. “Just two people having dinner.”

  “So, now it’s just Larry’s word,” Chief Abrams said.

  “How convenient for him,” I said, grabbing a piece of bread and dredging it through the last of the gravy. “What time are you meeting with him in the morning?”

  “Ten,” the Chief said, then caught the look on my face. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I said, avoiding the look my mother was giving me. “Is it my turn to do the dishes?”

  “No, it’s mine,” Chef Claire said.

  “Let me give you a hand, dear,” my mother said.

  “Thanks, Mrs. C. Why don’t you guys head into the living room? We’ll have coffee and dessert in there.”

  “Where are the bruisers?” Josie said.

  “They’re downstairs in the game room,” Chef Claire said. “They’ll be fine until we finish.”

  I got up and slowly made my way to a couch. The Chief watched me work my way into a sitting position with a grin then sat down next to me.

  “Not a word,” I said, making a face at him.

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” he said, laughing. “You look great.”

  “I feel like a beached whale,” I said, holding my stomach. “And I ate too much.”

  “Well, you are eating for two and a half.”

  “Funny,” I said, gently punching him on the shoulder.

  “Okay,” Detective Williams said. “Now that we have a little privacy, why don’t you tell me all about the breakthrough you had today?”

  I glanced at the Chief, and he motioned for me to tell the story.

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

  Detective Williams’ expression morphed into a deer in the highlights look. He quickly recovered and stared at me.

  “Talk to me, Suzy.”

  I did.

  When I finished, he took a sip of Limoncello and exhaled loudly.

  “Wow.”

  “That’s all you got?” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning at me. “I’m gonna need a minute. If Peters had actually deleted the other version of the will, we never would have known.”

  “We might have been able to guess what he did,” I said. “But I doubt if we could ever prove it.”

  “Did you find a copy of how his assets were going to be distributed?” Detective Williams said.

  “No,” I said. “My guess is Larry has the only copy.”

  “Which means he had free reign to change it as he saw fit,” Detective Williams said. “Talk about a game changer. What do you think, Chief?”

  “We’ll know more tomorrow after we talk to him,” he said.

  I frowned but remained silent. They both noticed the look on my face, and the Chief sat back in his chair studying me closely.

  “Let’s
hear it,” he said.

  “I’d wait. But that’s just me.”

  “You’d wait to talk to him?” Detective Williams said.

  “No, I’d definitely talk to him,” I said. “But I wouldn’t let on you know what he did. Or about what happened to Althea.”

  “The reading of the will,” Chief Abrams said.

  “Exactly,” I said. “I’d let it proceed and see how Larry plays it.”

  “I’m willing to bet the beneficiaries are going to be very surprised when they hear the news,” Detective Williams said. “Yeah, I like it. Good call, Suzy.”

  “Thanks. I can’t wait to hear what Larry has to say for himself,” I said, glancing back and forth at them with a coy smile.

  “You can’t wait?” the Chief said.

  “I think we should listen in when the will is read,” I said.

  “We?” Detective Williams said.

  “You can’t cut me out now, Detective Williams,” I said, beaming at him. “We’re just getting started.”

  “We’ll need a judge to sign off on the surveillance,” the Chief said. “But given what we’ve got, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And I have the perfect judge to use,” I said.

  They both focused on me and waited.

  “Judge Thompson.”

  “Thompson?” Detective Williams said. “Suzy, the guy has a reputation for being incredibly tough on lawyers and cops.”

  “Yes, he does,” I said. “But I’m willing to bet he’s crossed paths with Larry in the past. If he has, I seriously doubt he’s a fan.”

  “I’m sure he’s not,” the Chief said. “But still, Thompson sets a high bar for stuff like this.”

  “If Judge Thompson thinks he can get a corrupt lawyer disbarred, he’ll go along,” I said. “Not to mention the possibility Larry might get convicted of murder.”

  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Judge Thompson?” Detective Williams said.

  “I am,” I said. “I’ve dealt with him many times.”

  “You’ve been in front of the judge?” Detective William said, confused.

  “I moonlight as a court reporter,” I deadpanned.

  The Chief laughed and sipped his Limoncello.

  “Why do I think I’m about to hear a dog story?” he said.

  “The judge and his wife breed poodles. Whenever they travel, they always board their dogs with us. And you’ll never guess the name of the vet who works with their dogs exclusively.”

  “They drive their puppies to the Inn?” the Chief said.

  “No, Josie and I go to them,” I said with a shrug. “We have a great relationship with the Thompsons.”

  “Okay,” Detective Williams said. “I guess it can’t hurt to take you along. I’ll give his office a call in the morning.”

  “Larry is probably going to want to do the reading as soon as possible,” I said. “I wonder what he’s giving himself from Peters’ estate.”

  “Maybe he’ll tip his hand in the morning,” Chief Abrams said.

  “No offense, but I doubt if he’s going to tell the cops anything,” I said. “But he might open up to an old classmate.”

  “You went to school with the guy?” Detective Williams said.

  “I did.”

  “And you want to swing by his office first thing in the morning, right?” the Chief said.

  “I thought I might.”

  “For what reason?” Detective Williams said.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Chapter 12

  Larry Lamplighter, aka the Loser, got his nickname early in life. All throughout school, he’d been one of those kids who never quite fit in, was a half-step behind in most conversations, and, for reasons unknown to the rest of us, had an extremely high opinion of himself. Given Clay Bay’s small size, our paths crossed regularly, but we never hung out. In fact, Larry rarely hung out with anybody. It wasn’t that his classmates disliked him; Larry was basically ignored. As such, he’d spent his childhood on the periphery, relegated to the role of observer rather than participant.

  I slowly climbed the front steps that led to the office he operated out of his house not far from downtown. I entered and glanced around the reception area then spotted a bell sitting on top of an empty desk. I tapped it and took another look around as I waited. The area had the antiseptic feel of a doctor’s waiting room, and I was just about to sit down when Larry Lamplighter wandered down the hall toward me. He grinned when he saw me and extended his hand.

  “Suzy Chandler,” he said, pumping my hand several times before letting go and spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to my world.”

  “Hi, Larry. It’s been a long time. How are you doing?”

  “Great. Just great,” he said, giving me the once-over. “Look at you. You’re not going to pop in my office, are you?” Then he laughed hard at his own joke.

  “Pop?”

  “You know, go into labor.”

  “Got it. No, that’s not on the list,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “Good. I’d hate to have to charge you for cleaning the place.”

  “Or sue me, right?”

  “Good one,” he said. “You always were one of the funny ones. So, what can I do for you?”

  “I need a little legal advice.”

  “Then you have definitely come to the right place.”

  “Where’s your receptionist?”

  “Paralegal-receptionist,” he said, correcting me. “I haven’t got around to replacing Althea yet. I need to get on that. I still can’t believe she left me.”

  “Left you?”

  “Figure of speech,” Larry said with a shrug. “C’mon, follow me. I think you’ll like what I’ve done with the office.”

  I followed him into a large office and glanced around at the furnishings. Early-roadside-motel was the best description I could come up with, and I remained standing until he waved me into a chair on the other side of his desk. Hanging on the wall behind his desk were several photos, most of which were panoramic shots of the Thousand Islands. But one caught my attention, and I leaned forward to get a better look.

  “Is that our high school graduation picture?” I said, surprised.

  “It is,” he said, beaming at it. “Those were good times, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head when I spotted my goofy smile staring back at me. “Wow. I haven’t seen that picture in years.”

  “Remember that time we took your mom’s pontoon boat over to the Lake of the Isles?”

  “Which time?” I said, trying to isolate the event from several possibilities.

  “Junior year. Summer. August, I think,” he said, giving it some serious thought. “Now that was a party. We must have had thirty people on that boat.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, frowning as my memory bank came up empty. Not the party, but the fact that Larry had been there.

  “Does your mom still have it?”

  “No, she still has a pontoon boat, but she’s upgraded a few times since then.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s great.”

  “Glad to hear it. Is she still holding a grudge for the time I messed up that contract?”

  “My mother doesn’t really hold grudges.”

  “Good to know.”

  “She tends to strangle them,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, we should probably get started,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have a ten o’clock. But if we don’t have time to finish, we’ll get something on the old calendar, huh?”

  “This shouldn’t take long. I just need to bounce a few ideas off you.”

  “Lay it on me,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk.

  “I’m thinking about setting up a trust for my daughter. And I don’t have a clue where to start.”

  “That’s why they make lawyers,” he said, spreading his hands to emphasize his point. “What
sort of trust are you thinking about?”

  “Something safe that I can add to on a regular basis, but won’t be accessible until she’s twenty-one. Or maybe eighteen.”

  “Piece of cake,” he said. “And you’ll need someone to manage it. You know, a certified financial planner. Or a lawyer with a finance background. Yeah, I can definitely help you with that.”

  “I didn’t know you also handled financials,” I said, tossing my line into the water.

  “Actually, I’m just getting into it,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I recently fell into an opportunity and decided to focus on it,” he said. “Between you and me, it’s where the money is.”

  “It’s gotta be easier than suing business owners, right?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Good one.”

  I reached into my bag and removed a large Ziploc. I held it out to him.

  “Grape?”

  “Thanks,” he said, frowning. “I’ll pass.”

  “So, how does the whole trust thing work?” I said, tossing a couple grapes into my mouth.

  “Well, we draw up a contract that outlines the parameters of how you want it to work. Then we get it registered. And your trustee makes sure all the filings and tax documents are submitted on time. You can have as much or as little day to day control over the trust as you want. Personally, I’d delegate all that to the trustee. You know, so you don’t have to worry about stuff like that.”

  “How long does it take to set up?” I said.

  “Not long,” he said. “In fact, I should be able to get it going before I leave.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, it’s time for these old bones to be in the sun and sand,” he said. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and rocked gently in his chair. “I just can’t take these winters.”

  “I get that,” I said, nodding. “But if you’re leaving the area, won’t that be a problem?”

  “For the trust?” he said, frowning. “Not at all. That’s why they give us email and cellphones, right?”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. So, where are you going?”

  “I haven’t decided,” he said. “Someplace without snow and ice.”

  “And extradition,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”