“The police will want to know who had access to Frank’s locker.” Jamie stood up. We should go, Pat.”
“Wait.” There was a hint of panic in Riza’s voice. “I had nothing to do with the old woman’s death. Here’s what happened.”
Jamie eased herself back onto the sofa. “Let’s hear it.”
Riza had regained her composure. “About three weeks ago, I put a box of clothing in my storage locker. After I locked up, I left my car in the yard and walked over to the variety store.”
I pictured the businesses on the northwest side of the highway intersection. Glencoe Self-Storage was at one end. The miniature golf course beside it had gone out of business the previous year and the property was a field of weeds. The variety store was on the other side of the golf course.
“On my way back to the car, I cut across the little golf course,” Riza said, “and I saw a rolled-up rug by the fence. Someone had abandoned it and I figured I could use it somewhere. I put my shopping in my car and went back for the rug with one of the dollies in the storage yard. I stashed the rug in Frank’s locker, thinking I’d take a good look at it another day. I had a friend coming for dinner and I had to get back home.”
“Why Frank’s locker?” Jamie asked. “Why not put it in yours?”
“As I just said, I didn’t take a good look at the rug. I didn’t know what condition it was in, only that it was really heavy. There was mostly crap left in Frank’s locker, so I put it in there.”
“You didn’t want to risk contaminating your locker,” I said.
“That was my thinking. Two days later, I found out why that rug was so heavy. It was all over the news.”
“The police must have questioned you along with the other people who had rented lockers,” Jamie said.
“They did,” Riza said.
“You didn’t think finding the rug was worth mentioning?” I asked.
“I had nothing to do with that woman who was killed. I didn’t want them wasting time on me when they could be looking for her killer.”
“Thoughtful of you,” Jamie said.
Riza sat comfortably in her seat, sipping her wine. Her posture was relaxed, her tone of voice was light. But, for a moment or two, her eyes skittered around the room. She was wondering whether we believed her.
I didn’t. I didn’t buy her story about stumbling upon the rug on the miniature golf course. But Riza was a trickster who didn’t play by the rules. It was time for the police to step in. I caught Jamie’s eye and inclined my head toward the door.
As I got up from the sofa, the turban covering Riza’s hair reminded me of something Gracie Gibson had said. The woman who had assaulted her had worn a turban.
At the door, I turned to Riza. “You read the article in The Times today. The Gibsons’ place on the other side of the lake has been a target in the rental scam.”
“That’s what it said.”
“Strangers have been turning up at that elderly couple’s door, thinking they rented the property for their vacation. It’s scaring the daylights out of the Gibsons.”
“You were smart to leave that place on Black Bear Lake.”
“So you told me,” I said.
“This con is pulling a nasty trick,” Jamie said. “It’s bad enough to steal people’s vacation money, but it also puts homeowners and legitimate renters in danger.”
“It’s very nasty.” Riza looked genuinely concerned. “And now renters are showing up at the newspaper owner’s place on this lake.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean?”
Riza’s eyes shifted away from mine. “Nothing.”
The Gibsons, me and now Bruce. She had to be stopped.
“You posted the ad for the Gibsons’ home on Cottage Getaways and VacationSpots,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Riza asked.
“You sent strangers to the home of an elderly couple,” Jamie added, “and to Pat’s place on Black Bear.”
“And renters will be coming to Bruce Stohl’s cabin too,” I said.
“That’s ridiculous.” Riza tossed her head. “You ladies have been out in the sun too long.”
“You committed fraud, theft, break and enter, and assault on Gracie Gibson,” Jamie said. “All indictable offenses. You’ll be looking at some serious jail time.”
“That’s quite a story,” Riza said with a laugh, “but you can’t prove any of it.”
“Gracie will identify you,” I said. “You wore that turban and sunglasses when you assaulted her, but she’ll recognize your face and your voice.”
Riza picked up a telephone from the end table. “I’m calling my lawyer. Get out.”
Jamie and I made a beeline for the door, and we didn’t stop until we were on the dock.
“How did she do it?” I spat the words out, short of breath.
“Opened email accounts under other names,” Jamie said. “Posted the ads under those names.”
“Donald Simpson was one of the names she used. The family who came to our place last weekend said they’d rented the cottage from a Donald Simpson.”
“Riza figured she had everything covered.”
“But taking interior photos was overkill,” I said, thinking of Tommy’s teddy bear. “Our cottage would have rented without them.”
My breathing had returned to normal. “It has something to do with the Gibsons. Riza sent several groups of renters to their place.”
“Nate must’ve told her they were your clients and that you were helping them,” Jamie said. “She broke into your cottage and took the interior shots to frighten you into returning to Toronto.”
“Sure, she wanted me out of the way but what about the Gibsons?”
Jamie shook her head.
Then it came to me. “Her niece Zoe wants a home on a lake. Riza must have heard that the Gibsons were planning to put their place up for sale next spring. She wanted to pressure them into selling sooner than they’d planned to and at a low price.”
“That’s carrying family loyalty too far,” Jamie said.
“But I can’t figure out why she killed Vi,” I said.
“You don’t believe her story about finding the rug either.”
“Not for a moment,” I said. “But what was Vi’s connection to the rental scam? It doesn’t fit.”
We heard an engine start up and tires squeal on pavement. We ran up the path, up the stairs and into the house. The room we had just been in was empty. The telephone was on the sofa where Riza had been sitting.
“Riza,” I called but there was no answer.
We ran through the house to the door that faced the driveway. There was no vehicle in sight. The garage beside the house was locked but a glance through a window told us it was empty.
“She’s gone,” Jamie said. “We have to call the police.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Bouchard sat himself on a garden chair on Riza’s veranda. “So Santos went for a drive. That’s not a criminal offense, but what are you two doing here at her home?”
“We just told you,” I said from my perch on the veranda railing. “We paddled over here in our kayaks and came up to see Riza. She invited us inside.”
“I recognized a table in there that my mother gave Frank Prentice,” Jamie said. “I asked Riza about it and she told us that she’d taken the antiques out of Frank’s storage locker. She didn’t seem to think she’d done anything wrong.”
Bouchard gave us a lopsided smile. “And while she was being so talkative, I suppose she admitted to killing Vi Stohl and Wilf Mathers, and running the rental frauds.”
“She didn’t come right out and confess,” Jamie said, “but you should take a look at her computer. You’ll probably find something on it that will link her to the rental scams.”
“And she knows that Gracie Gibson could identify her,” I said. “The Gibsons need to be warned.”
Bouchard just sat there with a silly smile on his face.
“Is Detective
Inspector Foster at the detachment now?” I asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Couldn’t say.”
“Tell him I want to speak to him.” I motioned to Jamie that we should leave. “He knows where to find me.”
“Any idea where Santos went?” Bouchard called out as we walked down the path to the dock.
“She’s close to her sisters,” I said. “She may go to one of them.”
It was almost five thirty when we got back to Bruce’s cabin. I helped Jamie carry her kayak up from the beach and strap it onto the roof of Ronnie’s Mazda.
Lainey and Burt had invited Bruce to an afternoon barbecue, and I knew he wouldn’t be home yet. I unlocked the cabin door, thinking about what I could rustle up for my dinner.
The window shades had been drawn. When my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I saw a figure seated in an armchair. A woman with long white hair. Frances Laughton.
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“I turned the knob and the door opened.”
I’d locked up when I left so I knew she was lying. She was waiting for Bruce. She probably wanted to find out what Wilf had told him.
And now she had me to deal with.
I decided to play it friendly, then find an excuse to leave. I went over to the floor lamp and turned it on. “I’m staying here for a few days. There were some problems at the cottage I rented.”
“I wondered whose cars those were outside.”
“One is mine. The other belongs to the friend I was paddling with this afternoon.”
“When will Bruce get home?”
“Not for a while. He’s at a barbecue.”
“Bruce has come a long way in the past few months, hasn’t he?” She bared her teeth in a smile. “Friends, a job he enjoys. You’ve helped him a lot.”
“I can’t take credit for any of it.”
“You’re too modest, Pat.”
I shrugged. “I’m going to run into town for groceries before the store closes. I don’t have much to offer you but I can get you a bottle of water.”
“Sit down for a minute.”
“Sorry, but the store closes at six.” I moved toward the door.
“Sit down.”
I considered running for the door. Instead, I perched on the arm of the sofa. I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Did Bruce tell you about the article Wilf Mathers wanted to write?”
“Article? I haven’t seen much of Bruce since I got here two days ago. He’s been busy at the newspaper.”
She stared at me with cold gray eyes. She didn’t believe me.
“What was the article about?” I asked.
There were three loud raps on the front door.
Frances started at the sound. “Who’s that?” she asked me.
I figured that anybody was welcome under the circumstances. I jumped off the sofa, sprinted to the door and flung it open. Frances was right behind me.
Two young men, in their early twenties, stood on the porch. A black car, with a canoe on its roof, was parked in the driveway. “Mrs. Wynne?” one of them asked.
“Nobody here by the name of Wynne,” I told them.
“We’ve rented this cottage for a week,” the second young man said. “David Wynne, the owner, said he’d meet us here with the key.” He introduced himself and his friend to us.
I invited them inside. Frances shot me a dark look, which I returned with a smile. The rental fraudster had come to my rescue.
When the boys were seated, I told them about the rental scam.
“You mean we can’t stay here?” asked the one who had introduced himself as Sean.
“We lost our money?” his friend Matt added.
“Yes to both your questions,” I said. “The police will need to talk to you. They’re investigating the rental frauds in the township.” I went to the telephone in the hall and called Bouchard.
“An officer will be here shortly,” I said when I returned to my guests.
Frances snatched her handbag from the floor. “I have to go.”
Bruce arrived while Bouchard was telling the boys about the rental scams. “This is cabin’s owner,” I said and introduced Bruce.
“It’s my fault that your place has been hit,” I said when Bruce had been told why Sean and Matt were there. “Riza knew I was staying here and she wanted to scare me away.”
“We’ll find Santos and put an end to it,” Bouchard said.
“So you’ve decided to look for her now,” I said.
Bouchard ignored my remark and turned his attention back to Sean and Matt.
They were college kids who had saved up for a week’s vacation. “We didn’t have enough money to rent a cottage, so we were going to camp in Algonquin Park,” Sean said. “But when I checked Cottage Getaways early this morning, this place had just been posted. The price was right. It seemed too good to be true.”
“It was too good to be true,” Matt said mournfully.
I signaled to Bruce that I wanted to speak to him and we went into the kitchen. I told him about Frances’s visit.
“When you were staying with the Laughtons did they ask you about the article that Wilf wanted to write?”
“No, they didn’t. But Wilf must have told Daniel what he’d heard about Spadina Pharmaceuticals.”
Then it hit me. “He didn’t tell Daniel. He told Frances.”
Bruce whistled. “That could be. She’s his business manager.”
“She’ll be back here, looking for you. Why don’t you let these kids have the cabin for the week?” I said. “Riza took their vacation money.”
“You don’t think Frances would harm them?”
“Why would she? They didn’t know Wilf and they don’t know you. They’re complete strangers.”
“This is my home, Pat. I don’t want to leave it.”
“It won’t be for long. Frances showed her cards by coming here. She can’t keep this up.”
Sean and Matt nearly jumped for joy when they heard that the cabin was theirs for a week. While they were taking their canoe down to the beach, I told Bouchard that Frances had broken into the cabin that afternoon and she was waiting when I returned. “She asked me about an article that Wilf Mathers wanted to write,” I said. “Detective Foster was going to speak to her husband about it.”
“Do cell phones work out here?” Bouchard asked.
“No.” Bruce pointed to the telephone on the table in the hall.
“Where will we stay tonight?” he asked me as Bouchard picked up the phone.
“I’ll try the Dominion Hotel when Bouchard has finished his call,” I said.
Bouchard gave us a nod when he got off the phone. “Detective Foster will meet you at the detachment at eight.”
As soon as he’d left, I called the Dominion Hotel. All the rooms were taken. I tried the Winigami and that was completely booked as well.
“No luck,” I said to Bruce. “All I can think of is Ted’s place.”
I knew he wanted nothing to do with his father’s home but it was a place for us to spend the night.
He heaved a weary sigh. “Okay.”
“It will just be for tonight. We’ll find someplace else tomorrow.”
“I told you to let us handle the Laughtons,” Foster said when we were seated across from him at the Braeloch detachment.
His tie was loosened. I smelled cigarette smoke and beer on him.
I smiled. “I was out all afternoon. When I got back to Bruce’s cabin around five thirty, Frances was there. She’d broken in.”
“She was waiting for me,” Bruce said.
“She asked if Bruce had told me about the article that Wilf wanted to write,” I said. “Have you talked to the Laughtons?”
“We spoke to Daniel Laughton,” Foster said. “We went out to Raven Lake yesterday. Asked him about those green funds he’s advertising. And about the pharmaceutical company that Mathers was concerned about.”
“You showed him Wilf’s email?” Bru
ce asked.
“Yes. It was apparently new information for him,” Foster said. “He seemed genuinely surprised and upset.”
“What did Frances have to say?” I asked.
“She wasn’t there,” Foster said. “Laughton said she’d gone into town.”
He scribbled something in a notebook. “What else did she say to you at the cabin?” he asked me.
“The renters showed up and she left.”
“Renters?”
“Two college kids came by, thinking that they’d rented my place for a week,” Bruce said.
“More victims of the rental scams,” I said. “Can’t you arrest Frances for break and enter?”
Foster tightened his tie. “Leave the Laughtons to us. Riza Santos, too. I heard you scared her off today.”
I was about to protest but I saw a twinkle in his eyes. “Are you following up on Riza?” I asked him. “Sergeant Bouchard didn’t seem to believe what Jamie Collins and I told him.”
“We’re waiting for a court order so we can go through her home. Should have it tomorrow. We have an officer stationed outside the house right now.”
As Bruce and I got up to leave, he added, “Find somewhere else to stay tonight.”
It was a little after eight thirty. Bruce ducked into The Times building to check his voice mail. I parked my Volvo in the public parking lot and went over to the library.
The listing for Bruce’s cabin on Cottage Getaways carried a photo of its exterior, and several interior shots including one of the bedroom I’d been using—with my paisley shawl draped over the dresser. Sean had said he’d found the listing early that morning. Riza must have got into the cabin on Wednesday afternoon, after she’d stranded Jamie and me on Cat Lake.
I took another look at my shawl in the photo and shivered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Bruce drove us up the hill to Ted’s house in his Chevy. He had tensed right up. The idea of spending the night under his father’s roof had clearly rattled him, so I didn’t tell him what Riza had said about putting the rug in Frank’s locker. Her story seemed so far-fetched and I didn’t want to upset him needlessly.
Raven Lake Page 24
