Dead to the World

by B. D. Smith

  Tom nodded in agreement and paused to admire his reflection in a shop window. He had decided to celebrate the lifting of his suspension by turning over a new leaf, and as part of his new presentation of self he had invested in a new suit. It was dark blue with a subtle pinstripe, and was matched with a blue button-down shirt, a maize and blue striped tie, and glossy black wingtips. He was resplendent in comparison to Doug, who was wearing his standard work outfit –khakis, brown tweed sport coat, dress shirt and tie, and casual loafers.

  In spite of Tom’s new “pillar of the community” outfit, he still radiated the free-floating hostility of someone seemingly on the edge of violence, constantly scanning the street for potential danger and eager to confront it. Tom Richard was a lady’s man who combined “bad boy” appeal with a dazzling smile and an uncanny ability to draw attractive women into conversation.

  After a brief wait in the reception area of the fifth-floor law firm, Doug and Tom were escorted back to Rosemary Tremblay’s corner office, which had a great view east across the Casco Bay ferry docks to the islands beyond. Tom casually moved in front of Doug as the secretary opened the office door, and he greeted Tremblay with a gentle handshake and a smooth “Bonjour.”

  Surprised, the lawyer responded in rapid fire French, to which Tom laughed, spread his hands wide in an expansive gesture, and responded at some length. Seemingly captivated, Rosemary invited Tom to take a seat, and then somewhat reluctantly acknowledged Doug’s presence and waved him to a chair before retreating behind her desk.

  Once seated, Rosemary turned expectantly toward Tom, and was surprised when it was Doug who opened the questioning.

  “Thank you for meeting with us Ms. Tremblay. We’re sorry for your loss. As I mentioned on the phone, we’re hoping you can help us with our inquiry into the death of your late husband – Donald Robertson.”

  Tremblay was thin, with short black hair, brown eyes, and sharp, almost vulpine features. She wore a gray sweater set and knee-length skirt, little makeup, and no jewelry except for small pearl earrings. Doug noted the absence of a wedding or engagement ring. Gazing coldly back at Doug with ramrod straight posture, she projected a severe sensuality and a strictly business-like demeanor.

  “I’m not sure I can be of much help Detective Bateman, and I’m somewhat confused. My husband has been dead now for several months, and the medical examiner ruled it an accidental death. So why an inquiry now?”

  “New evidence has come to light Ms. Tremblay, that indicates that your husband’s death was not accidental. We have good reason to believe that he was murdered.”

  Rosemary’s mouth opened in surprise.

  “Homicide? Who would kill him? And why?”

  “That’s what we’re hoping to find out,” Doug replied. “Can you think of anyone who had a reason to want your husband dead?”

  “No, absolutely not. Don was not one to make enemies – he was, if anything, lacking in assertiveness and ambition. Weak, I guess you could say. That’s one of the reasons we were getting a divorce. He was, truth be told, rather boring.”

  “Was it an amicable divorce process, would you say?” Doug asked, somewhat surprised at Rosemary’s blunt assessment of her late husband.

  “Pretty much,” Rosemary responded. “We’d been separated for almost six months before his death – he’d moved out of my condo. I bought it before we got married.”

  “We have information of a conflict of sorts between your late husband and an individual named Lee Lamen. Can you tell us about that?”

  Looking surprised, Rosemary paused before answering.

  “Lee is a good friend and has supported me during a very difficult time. He defended me against Don’s criticisms. And Lee actually liked Don. I think he was as stunned as I was when we heard about his death.”

  “How did you learn about it?” Tom asked.

  “Lee and I were both at a dental convention in Las Vegas that week. Lee was on a panel and I tagged along to get a break from work and play the tables a bit.”

  Tom looked up from the notes he was taking and glanced at Doug. Rosemary noticed the interchange and smiled in comprehension.

  “That’s right, detectives. You can scratch us off your list of suspects. We were both 2,500 miles away when Don died and there are lots of people who can verify it. We had no opportunity and no motive. The divorce proceedings had started, and the financial disclosures showed I had nothing to gain from either his death or the divorce.”

  Leaning forward, looking directly at Rosemary, and speaking in a low, confidential tone, Tom asked his first question.

  “Are you and Lamen romantically involved?”

  Beaming back at Tom, Rosemary responded flirtatiously.

  “Why detective, I didn’t know you were interested. Lee’s a good friend but that’s it. We hang out together, but Lee’s gay, detective Richard, so we were not in that sort of relationship.”

  Tom abruptly changed topics.

  “Did your husband have any life insurance policies?”

  Rosemary laughed out loud – a deep raspy cackle in sharp contrast to her professional demeanor.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact he did – a nice one - $500,000. But shortly after he moved out he took pleasure in letting me know he had changed the beneficiary– as if I would care. I would have given up a lot more than that to be rid of him. Did I mention he was boring?”

  “Did he happen to say who the new beneficiary was?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. It was probably that slut he was seeing back up there in the sticks.”

  “What can you tell us about his investment consulting business? Did he have any disgruntled clients for example? Had any investments gone south? Did you have any investments with your husband?”

  “Don and I kept all our finances separate and I would never have considered letting him play with any of my money. I’m an index fund kind of person when it comes to investments. I do like playing cards for money – blackjack and poker mostly – but that’s different, and I only make small bets. I had nothing to do with Don’s business, and judging from what I’ve learned since his death, he had few clients left and a pretty lackluster recent record of investment for himself. Don made a reasonable income but nothing really impressive. He didn’t leave any debts for me to clear up when he died, thank goodness, but there wasn’t much for him to pass on either, other than maybe thirty thousand in his savings account.”

  “We’d like to look at his financials if that’s possible,” Doug responded.

  Rosemary nodded agreeably.

  “Sure thing. We filed our taxes separately. I can let you have copies of his returns for the past several years, and some of his old business files are also still boxed up at my condo. You can borrow them to look at.”

  Opening her hands out in front of her, palms up, Rosemary smiled again and continued.

  “Come to think of it, I’ll give you a key to the condo and you can take everything of his that’s left. I was about to throw all that crap out anyway. Lee and I cleaned out his apartment the week after his death. Pretty much everything went to Goodwill except his files and a few computer components – a mouse and a side monitor, I think. Maybe a few other gadgets. All that stuff is in a few boxes in the front hall of the condo. Please, take it all away. Just give me an inventory at some point. I can’t say for sure what you’ll find. I haven’t really looked at any of it in detail other than his active client accounts. Fortunately, those were all up to date and available in hard copy.”

  Fishing her purse out of a desk drawer, Rosemary rattled off the address of her condo while extracting a key from her key ring and handing it across the desk to Doug.

  “Just drop the key
off here with the receptionist when you’re done – and there’s no hurry on providing the inventory.”

  Tom and Doug exchanged a glance, and Tom asked the obvious follow-up question, while also deliberately trying out her first name.

  “Rosemary. You mentioned taking computer peripherals from your husband’s apartment – a mouse and a side monitor. Did you find his computer?

  “No. Just an empty space on the desk where it should have been. He had a fancy laptop – an Apple Macbook Pro.”

  “Was there a break-in at your husband’s apartment? Any police report filed?”

  “No – everything looked normal when we went through the place. Not much to clean out.”

  “Do you have any idea of what happened to the laptop?”

  “No. I asked the sheriff’s office if they had recovered it at the cabin after his death, but they returned all his effects to me a few weeks later, and there was no MacBook Pro. I figured his white-trash girlfriend had taken it.”

  Pointedly looking at her watch, Rosemary stood up and placed both palms on her desk – a clear signal she was through answering their questions.

  “If there’s nothing else, I have clients waiting.”

  Doug glanced at Tom, who shook his head, indicating he had no other questions for Tremblay. They both stood, and Doug thanked the not so grieving widow for her time.

  “Thank you for speaking with us Ms. Tremblay. And thanks too for providing your late husband’s financial records. I’m sure we’ll have more questions for you and will also need contact information for people who can vouch for your Las Vegas trip. One last question – Do you know how we can contact Nigel Underwood? He was a friend of your husband.”

  Rosemary blinked rapidly several times, looking confused.

  “I can’t say that I have ever met Mr. Underwood, and Don never mentioned him. I have no idea who he is.”

  Reaching out to shake Rosemary’s hand, Doug thanked her again and moved toward the office door. Pausing at the threshold, he waited for Tom to conclude his animated conversation in Quebecois with Tremblay before the two men headed back to the elevators. As soon as she was sure they were out of sight, Rosemary picked up her phone and made a call.

  Doug and Tom didn’t speak until they were back on the street, when Tom broke the silence.

  “Looks like Rosemary and her dentist mentor have a solid alibi if it checks out. What’s our next move?”

  “Let’s pay an unannounced visit to this Lee Lamen character and see if their Las Vegas story holds up. He’s supposed to be back in town today. We also need to pick up Don Robertson’s financial records and computers. I’ll call Peter Martell and have the evidence response team meet us at Tremblay’s condo later this afternoon. But first, lunch somewhere. Any recommendations?”

  Tom immediately set out at a brisk pace down Middle Street, calling back over his shoulder:

  “The Thirsty Pig is just up here around the corner. You gotta have a few of their hot dogs – I recommend the Spicy McFirepants – that is if you can handle ‘em.”

  Smiling at Tom’s rapidly receding back, Doug responded to his jibe.

  “But Tom – I thought your Quebecois patter was going to result in Rosemary inviting us to lunch. Now it turns out I have to settle for a few hot dogs. Nothin like living large down in the big city.”

  When they had reached the restaurant, ordered at the counter, and grabbed a table by the window, Tom sampled his beer and finally replied to Doug’s crack about his failure to sweet talk Rosemary Tremblay.

  “You’re right Doug – I didn’t manage to get a lunch invitation from Rosemary. Your pushy line of questioning squashed any chance of that. But my Quebecois patter, as you call it, rarely fails, and I deployed it successfully as we left. Rosemary and I are having dinner tomorrow night, and I know a small, very romantic French bistro - Petite Jacqueline, that I think she will enjoy.”

  Holding up his hands, palms toward Doug to hold off any objection, Tom continued.

  “I know, I know. She’s involved in our murder case and I should be avoiding any personal relationship. But it’s just dinner, Doug – an opportunity for her to let her hair down and share her perspective on what might have happened with her late husband. I’m a good listener and my gently probing questions, along with the wine, should help Rosemary to share with me things that could be germane to our investigation.”

  Shaking his head in resignation, knowing it was fruitless to try to reason with his partner, Doug called and arranged for the evidence response team to meet them at Rosemary Tremblay’s condominium that afternoon at three to pick up the orphaned boxes of computer components and paper files of the late Don Robertson. Witnessing the recovery and sealing of the boxes prior to transport back to the crime lab up in Augusta would be the initial steps in documenting an unbroken chain of custody for the evidence.

  Doug then looked up Lee Lamen’s office location and phone number on his iPhone and called to set up an appointment with the dentist for the early afternoon. He was surprised when Lamen’s receptionist indicated that they had been expecting the call, and that Dr. Lamen was coming into the office from home to meet with them.

  Neither Doug nor Tom knew exactly what to expect from the dentist when they arrived at his office, but they were not expecting the bundle of nerves who rushed out to greet them. Lamen reminded Doug of George Costanza from the Seinfeld TV show. Short, stocky, balding, outwardly anxious and insecure, with a pale, pudgy face, nervous chatter, and sporting a bow tie, Lamen led them back to his small cluttered office, scurried behind his desk, and started talking as soon as they sat down.

  “Rose called me this morning and I’ve pulled together all the information you need to verify our conference attendance in Las Vegas – airline itinerary, hotel bills, conference registration receipts, and the names and contact information for six people who can confirm our attendance. Two of the people listed – I underlined their names, were panelists with me on the evening that Rose’s husband passed away.”

  Lamen eagerly thrust the collection of documents across the desk toward the detectives. Tom reached out and took them, folding them into his jacket pocket without glancing at them, and smiling warmly at the dentist, thanked him.

  “Thanks for these, Dr. Lamen, and sorry for disrupting your day. We’ve just a few additional questions and then will be on our way. It’s all just routine – checking off boxes and scratching names off our list.”

  Nodding vigorously and glancing back and forth between the two detectives, Lamen was clearly eager to please, and began to talk rapid-fire

  “Sure, sure, detectives. Glad to help with your investigation. Terrible business. Rosemary and I were both shocked. Whatever I can do to help. Any questions, anything, just ask away.”

  Still smiling warmly, Tom took out a small notebook and pen. His first question caught Lamen off guard.

  “What is your relationship with Ms. Tremblay?”

  Looking puzzled, the dentist stumbled over his answer.

  “Our relationship? We’re good friends. I have been introducing her to people who share her desire to gain enlightenment, to live a rich and full life.”

  Tom’s expression grew even more sympathetic.

  “You and Rosemary are not romantically involved?”

  Looking even more confused, and a little put out, Dr. Lamen sputtered.

  “No, no – nothing like that. She’s a wonderful woman, but we’re just friends.”

  “You must be very good friends – spending a week together in Las Vegas.”

  Smiling now, Lee responded.

  “You have the wrong idea detective. We had separate rooms. I had company every nigh
t, but it wasn’t Rosemary, I can assure you. And in case Rosemary didn’t mention it, I’m gay.”

  Tom nodded in understanding, his face registering even greater empathy, as he switched topics again.

  “I see. Do you tithe, Dr. Lamen?”

  “Tithe? What do you mean detective?”

  “Tithe – you know – to pledge ten percent of your income to a church or religious body of some kind.”

  Guarded now, Lamen paused before answering.

  “It’s not technically tithing, since it’s not a ten percent commitment, but yes I do contribute financially to the good efforts of my community of love and hope. It’s all aboveboard and all legal.”

  Leaning forward, Doug picked up the questioning.

  “And does your close friend Rosemary tithe too, Dr. Lamen?”

  Frowning now, Lamen responded.

  “No, she doesn’t yet. Rosemary is still in transition.”

  Trying for a stern expression, Lamen continued.

  “And what, exactly, do my charitable contributions have to do with your investigations of Rosemary’s husband’s death?”

  “Just checking off the boxes Dr. Lamen. Just checking boxes,” Doug replied. “Did you make any investments with Don Robertson? Did anyone you know invest with him?”

  “No on both counts detective.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have been a threat to him? Do you know of any threats made against the deceased, Dr. Lamen?”

  Lamen paused, looking around the room for some way out of this interview. Spreading his hands wide, palms up, Lamen appealed for understanding.

  “Threats? No, no threats. I might have cautioned him a few times about his uncalled-for harassment of Rosemary and her interest in reaching enlightenment, but that was just well-meaning advice, not threats.”

  Doug acknowledged Lamen’s answer, and turning to Tom, asked if he had anything additional to ask. Tom shook his head, and standing, he reached out to shake Dr. Lamen’s hand.