by B. D. Smith
Doug waited for Tom to continue, and then realized that he had just told him the good news – page thirty-two, square 1A in the gazetteer, or 321A, was the code used to identify the file on Don Robertson’s computer printer that included all the overseas bank account information. In some fashion, the millions of dollars that had vanished from Don Robertson’s secret accounts was linked to the north shore of the western basin of Sebec Lake.
22.
The weather was clear on Friday morning, with no wind to speak of. But a line of dark clouds could be seen massing on the western horizon. The time trials for the race were scheduled to begin at eight. The final prank by the Water Rats, however, delayed the start time for almost ninety minutes. They targeted the weather balloon with a suspended camera that had been moored on Pine Island. It was to provide continual coverage of the race boats as they started near Merrill’s Marina, powered east and rounded Pine Island, and then returned to the start/finish line.
Jim Lucas, who lived on the north shore of the lake, not too far away, had swum over to the island early that morning. He was an avid open water swimmer who liked to swim in the early morning, before boat traffic picked up. Lucas easily avoided detection by the family renting the island’s cabin, and after snipping its mooring cable he watched the liberated balloon and its suspended camera rapidly drift east, never to be seen again. He imagined it continuing its lonely journey east over the Gulf of Maine and being lost at sea. Several people saw Jim swimming in the vicinity of Pine Island right after the balloon release, and assumed it was just Jim out for his morning swim. The loss of the balloon mounted camera over Pine Island caused a brief panic at the roller rink command center, but Becky Hull, the newly crowned queen of the drones, was quite confident that the loss of the balloon camera was not that serious and that her team could make a few adjustments, bring a few more cameras into play, and actually provide better coverage of the time trials.
Becky might have gotten more pushback on her position, which turned out to be spot on, if Nigel had been present at the command center. But he was, of course, first in line for the time trials in his replacement boat. He was well aware of the line of storms moving in from the west, and the accompanying probability of high winds and substantial waves. Nigel wanted to post his time before things got dicey. The boat wasn’t his of course, it was a short-term rental. Nor would he be piloting the boat. Trailered in from Indiana, the boat came with its own skipper, and Nigel was just along for the ride. With three 300HP engines, his was by far the most powerful patio boat on the lake. Doug recognized Nigel’s boat as soon as he saw it later that morning. It was the black behemoth that he and Anne had tried to track down earlier in the week. Nigel rode proudly in the bow, with his green cast propped up on the bow rail, waving to the crowd of onlookers scattered in boats along the racecourse. Many of the people watching the time trials waved back, but a fair number also flipped him the bird. The previous week of patio boat escapades on the lake – racing, partying, and just basic rudeness, along with some free-floating hostility by race entrants – fueled no doubt by their frustration with Water Rat pranking, had in turn resulted in many more locals siding with the water rats in opposition to the race.
For the most part the time trials went smoothly. The threatening storms never materialized. Starting at one-minute intervals, one hundred and seventy two pontoon boats completed the out and back course around Pine Island on Friday, with the last boat crossing the finish line a little before one in the afternoon. Nigel’s black behemoth was one of only a dozen boats entered in the unlimited class, with another fifty or so in the over twenty-two feet class. The remaining hundred entries were in the under twenty-two feet class, and most of those were from Maine. Becky Hull’s drone, stationary, and boat mounted cameras worked well, capturing highlight reel footage which ESPN would be broadcasting that afternoon as promotion for the next day’s match races. Although the time trials were completed without any complications, there were two interesting developments.
First, the sixteen entries in the twenty-two feet and under length ‘powder-puff’ class all objected to the offensive label. Rejecting the attempt to diminish and ghettoize them, they demanded the right to compete with the men. Their demand was easily accommodated by simply adding their time trial times in with the men’s times. This combining of classes to create a unisex category of patio boat competition resulted in a compelling story line for the upcoming match races. Alice Delany, of the Delany family, whose women had been perennial skillet throw champions at the Piscataquis Valley Fair, posted the second fastest time in the now combined twenty-two feet and under class, setting up a next day battle of the sexes showdown on live TV.
The second development involved Wesley Fuller’s entry in the race. Wes, the ex-boyfriend of Ximena Lapointe and an early suspect in the death of Don Robertson, ran into trouble for below the water modifications of his patio boat. He had driven his boat up from his camp near Sebec Village that morning and had tried to evade the inspection station at the boat ramp before joining the long string of boats lining up single file for their time trial run. Kiwanis Club volunteers watching for just such shenanigans checked his race number, saw that his boat had not yet been cleared, and pulled him out of line. An underwater inspection, watched with interest by the other competitors lined up for the time trials, quickly uncovered multiple modifications, any one of which was enough to disqualify his entry. Despite angry objections by Fuller, he was informed he could not rejoin the line of competitors and would have to talk to Bob Lutz about what was and wasn’t allowed below the waterline.
Wes Fuller found Bob Lutz in the roller rink command center about an hour later, talking to Ximena Lapointe and Mary Payne. The time trials were almost finished by then, and Bob, Ximena, and Mary had joined the crowd that had begun to congregate in anticipation of the scheduled announcement of the qualifiers for the Saturday match races.
“What kind of bullshit are you pulling,” Fuller blurted out as he rushed up to Lutz. “You can’t keep me from racing – I paid my money. I want back in line.”
Lutz was taken aback but stood his ground.
“We can’t allow you to participate Wes. Sorry, but the rules don’t allow modifications, like the ones you made, below the water line. It wouldn’t be fair to the other competitors.”
“Fair,” Fuller replied, “I’ll show you fair.”
Before Lutz could react, Fuller rushed forward and punched him in the chest. Lutz staggered backwards before regaining his balance. Fuller goaded him.
“Come on little man, show me what you got.”
Glancing briefly at Mary and Ximena, Lutz reacted to Fuller calling him out in what initially seemed a rather peculiar manner. Bob used the toe of his left foot to push down on the heel of his right shoe, slipping it off. Lutz then bounced on his toes a few times, eliciting a disdainful laugh from Fuller. The laugh was cut short as Lutz executed a traditional Mawashi Geri – a roundhouse karate kick that caught Fuller on the side of the head and dropped him to the ground. Ximena laughed out loud and others nearby looked on in surprise. Fuller rolled away from Lutz and scrambled to his feet. Holding a hand to the side of his head, he looked at Lutz, thought a moment, then turned to walk away, calling back over his shoulder.
“Next time, Lutz, your sissy kicks won’t help you.”
Anne and Doug had arranged to interview Elizabeth Eastman at the marina before the announcement of the qualifiers for the next day’s match races, and they arrived just in time to witness Bob Lutz’s karate lesson for Wesley Fuller. Anne whistled softly, impressed by Bob’s seemingly effortless decking of Fuller.
“I didn’t expect martial arts skills from Bob. I thought he was the introvert nerdy type.”
“He is. But winters here are long. People find lots of things to do that you wouldn’t necessarily expect, like soupi
ng up pontoon boats, or taking karate at the dojo down in Bangor. I think he started karate in high school, so he’s been at it a while. Bob’s a gentle guy, but nobody to mess with. And his kick there was pretty gentle. He could have broken Fuller’s jaw with a serious kick.”
Mary Payne noticed Anne and Doug and walked over to them.
“Hi Anne. Hi Doug. Liz is over at the picnic tables. I’ll take you over.”
They followed Mary through the crowd that had gathered at the marina, finding Elizabeth sitting at one of the tables, her loon cane leaning against the table next to her. Across from Liz a young man in a business suit pulled together a pile of papers and shaking Liz’s hand, walked away just before Anne and Doug reached them. Mary Payne intercepted the man as he walked back toward the roller rink, and they stopped near one of the food stands and talked briefly before he took out car keys and headed for the parking lot.
“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” Doug said after they had greeted the widow and took seats across from her.
“Oh no, That’s fine. Just a few loose ends from the estate. Brought that nice young man all the way up from Augusta on the weekend. And I might have to go back down there tomorrow.”
“Thanks for talking with us again Mrs. Eastman. It shouldn’t take long,” Anne said.
“Sure thing,” Liz replied. “Fire away.”
Doug started the questions.
“Have you thought any more about who may have been responsible for your husband’s death?”
“I’ve thought a lot about it and I can’t think of who might have had it in for him,”
Liz replied. “Maybe somebody from the past – he made a lot of enemies in business, and real estate development can be particularly cutthroat. But John didn’t mention any difficulties in the last few years. And he didn’t have any ongoing litigation as far as I know.”
“How about local disputes? Any problems with neighbors, acquaintances, or any business dealings locally?”
Liz paused before responding.
“Well, there was a disagreement with our contractor – John was always seeing where he could save some money. It was like a game with him. It amused him. But I have settled that debt, and I don’t expect anything else to surface.”
“Can you tell us again about discovering your husband’s body the night he was killed? About what time did you find him in the garage?” Anne asked.
“It was maybe two or two thirty in the morning. He often stays up late, and I had already gone to bed. I woke up about two, and he wasn’t next to me in bed. So I went looking for him.”
“Had you heard anything before you went out?” Anne continued.
“No, not really. I never hear noise from the garage when he’s working out there.”
“Any unusual happenings in the week or so before that night?” Anne asked.
“No, like I mentioned when we talked before – nothing out of the ordinary.”
Switching topics, Doug asked about Nigel Underwood.
“What can you tell us about your husband’s relationship with Nigel Underwood?”
“Oh, John and Nigel were very close. Had been since growing up together in New Jersey. He and Nigel talked almost every week. Nigel’s a nice man, always coming up with new ideas, new ways to make money. Most of the time John just laughed at Nigel’s crazy schemes, but every now and then he would invest in one of them, mostly for the amusement value.”
“How about recently, Liz?” Doug asked. “Were they cooking anything up that you knew about?”
“Well….” Liz paused, choosing her words with care. “Yes – they were scheming about something, I’m pretty sure. Nigel and that nice young man who died last winter – Don Robertson, came for dinner at least once a week here for a while there. Ximena was also at their dinners here occasionally. I never heard any of their plans at dinner, but the three men would often go out and sit on the dock after dinner and man talk for an hour or so while I did the dishes and cleaned up. When she came, Ximena would help with the dishes. She’s very nice.”
“So, you had no idea what their plans were?” Doug asked.
“No, not really.”
“How about now? Has anything turned up since John’s death that might suggest what they were planning?” Doug asked.
“No. I’m sure there would have been some sort of files in John’s office above the boat house, but it was all burned in the fire we had.”
“Do you think Ximena was involved in their plans?” Doug asked.
“I wouldn’t have thought so. But I can’t be sure.” Liz replied.
Doug glanced at Anne, who picked up the questioning.
“Did you ever contemplate getting a divorce because of your husband’s physical abuse?”
Liz was silent for a while, clearly not pleased with the question. Finally, she replied.
“Early on I thought about it. But John was a good man, and it wasn’t that frequent. Marriage isn’t always easy. He had a temper and I learned to live with it.”
Anne had more questions, but the PA system suddenly came to life, and a voice indicated that the time trial results and the pairing for the match races tomorrow was about to be announced. Nigel Underwood stepped up on the front porch of the roller rink and took the microphone from Bob Lutz.
“Welcome. Welcome. I hope everyone enjoyed the time trials today, which I am sure you will all agree were a huge success. You must all be hungry after the races, and we have lots of different food choices for you to pick from in the food stalls set up around you, all run by Kiwanis Club volunteers, so please get something to eat. I have the results of today’s races here, as well as the pairings for tomorrow. So let’s get to it.”
Nigel read through the time trial results, and Anne recognized the name of the competitor who would be going up against Alice Delany in the twenty-two feet and under category first thing tomorrow morning – it was Dave Oliver, the guy who had fashioned an airfoil and outriggers for his patio boat and done a few unallowed modifications to his motor. Anne smiled as she realized that Oliver had avoided detection so far. Nigel’s boat made the cut, of course, and there were a few boos from the crowd when the unlimited category match race pairings were announced. Rich people from away were never that popular.
Doug expected Nigel to conclude his remarks after announcing the pairings for tomorrow and the changes in the racecourse necessitated by the Buck’s Cove blockade. But Nigel continued holding the microphone, and nervously cleared his throat before continuing.
“I also wanted to share with you today some very exciting news about a new development project that promises to transform Sebec Lake into something spectacular, which I am sure will thrill all of you as much as it does me.”
Nigel paused here for dramatic effect as he gazed out across the crowd.
“There are still a few details to work out, but in the next few weeks we will be formally announcing the creation of a new community on the north shore of Sebec Lake. It’s called Club Borestone and will extend along about two miles of shoreline east of Buck’s Cove. Right now the land is undeveloped, neglected, and woefully underutilized. We’ve been in discussions for some time with the timber conglomerate Weyerhaeuser, which owns all that unused shoreline and thousands of acres back into the forest, and will be finalizing the acquisition of the land for Club Borestone within a week or two. We were hoping to be able to announce the completion of the deal today, but these complex negotiations take time.”
Nigel did not seem to notice the shocked expressions on many in the audience, and continued with his announcement.
“Club Borestone will be like other so-called mega-resorts such as the Yellowstone Club in Mon
tana and Club Intrawest in Tremblant, Quebec. Right now there are less than a dozen such resorts across the country, and we believe that Club Borestone will outshine them all.”
Nigel paused to allow the outpouring of excitement he expected would erupt at his news about the planned development, but the crowd seemed stunned into silence. Nigel hurried on.
“And here’s the good news. It’s not going to impact the lake or the people who live around it very much at all because it’s going to be completely private and pretty much self-contained. It will have its own airport, which will be an expansion of the small Two Falls airstrip that exists nearby now. There will be a marina developed on Bear Pond, with a channel cut through to Buck’s Cove for access out into the lake, along with a community center and fitness facility. We’re not sure yet how many vacation homes will be built, but the construction boom will bring hundreds of jobs to the area. There will be a golf course, miles of nordic ski trails and snowmobile trails, and we are hoping to develop a small downhill ski area. All in all, it will transform Sebec Lake forever. Property values are bound to go up, Bowerbank gets a huge increase in real estate tax revenue, and it will put Sebec on the vacation destination map.”
Nigel paused again to consult his notes and was about to continue with more on the wonderful mega-resort for the ultra-rich that would be coming to Piscataquis County, but was interrupted when a chilidog thrown from the crowd hit him square in the face. As Nigel retreated back into the safety of the roller rink, the crowd broke up into small groups of angry conversation as people tried to come to grips with what Nigel was laying out as the future of the Sebec Lake community.
Doug’s jaw dropped and Anne covered her face with her hands at the news. Doug glanced across the table at Liz Eastman, who returned his gaze, smiled sadly, and confirmed what he had suspected, but was afraid to acknowledge.
