“And your marriage to Gage Leder?”
“I went over all that on the phone with Deputy Edberg.”
I lifted my hand, as if shooing a fly away from my face. “Just give us the highlights. Or the lowlights, if that’s more appropriate.”
Rennie smiled at that. “I met Gage at a bar.” She looked more closely at me and said, “I know, I know, not the best place to meet boys, my mama done told me that much. But it seemed like ta me everyone at work was married, and it’s not easy meetin’ people in a small town. I was lonely.”
I nodded. “Understandable.”
“Gage was a sweet talkin’ thing, let me tell you. And handsome. His courtin’ was oh-so-smooth, and I was the proverbial deer in the headlights. Didn’t see it comin’ until it was too late.”
“What exactly didn’t you see coming?” I said.
“For starters, he said we would live in my house because he only had a small apartment in Emerald Lake. He said he’d pay half the mortgage, which he didn’t. He covered that up by sayin’ he was payin’ so much to his two ex-wives for child support. Another lie. But ya know what? I couldn’t have children of my own, and Gage had three.
“The boys were a little older and not so interested in doin’ things with a stepmama. But Morgan was just little bitty, and the sweetest thing. And bright and beautiful to boot. We baked cookies and went shopping. All the things my own mama had done with me. I ain’t stupid, and I knew exactly what Gage Leder was up to with all those other women. And after I figured it out, he wasn’t allowed back in my bed. But I hung in there, pretendin’ to be married for a few more years, for Morgan’s sake.”
“You were on vacation from work last week.”
“That’s right. I spent some time taking care of things at home then I went to my sister’s house.”
“And your sister’s name, address, and phone number?”
“Um. Here, I’ll write it down.” She pulled a small memo book from the pants pocket of her scrubs and tore out a sheet. She wrote the information down. Her hand trembled when she gave it to me. After reading it, I put it in my breast pocket.
“And what days—dates—were you there?”
“May the twenty-third ’til May the twenty-sixth.”
Smoke was recording more of her words than I was. We’d compare notes later. “Getting back to Gage. Did he have any other expensive habits, besides women?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He did seem to burn through any money he got. I always wondered if he had it buried somewhere, ’cause aside from nice clothes, and maybe buyin’ stuff for his lady friends, I never saw evidence of what he did with it.”
A buried treasure trove of money?
“How did you get along with the rest of the family?”
“I didn’t have much for dealings with any of them.”
“His sister? His parents when they were alive?”
Rennie shook her head. “One thing you gotta understand. Gage Leder kept the people in his life as isolated from each other as possible. I think it’s so as we couldn’t compare notes. When your whole life is a lie, it’s hard to keep it all sorted out.”
Abraham Lincoln had said it best, in one of his famous quotes, “No man has a good enough memory to make a successful liar.”
“Did Gage Leder tell you he had a heart condition?”
Another flicker of surprise followed by a moment of quiet. “No he didn’t tell me that.”
“Morgan told you something about her father while you were on vacation.”
Rennie looked down. “We talked about a lot of things.”
“She told you something she may not have told anyone else.”
Rennie winced, then made her face go blank. “I don’t think Morgan was real comfortable telling her mama things about her daddy.”
“Such as?”
“About seein’ him with women all over town. Promisin’ to take her places, buy her certain things, then breakin’ those promises.”
“That’s it?”
Rennie nodded. “Things like that.”
“When we spoke with Morgan, she started to tell us something, but stopped. My impression was that there was a specific incident that was bothering her.”
It took a minute before Rennie responded. “A specific incident? Ah, no. Can’t say as there was.”
“If we could find out more of what Gage Leder was involved with, it could provide some valuable leads.”
“You said you had a lot of leads.”
“We do. Now we need answers.”
“Well, if I think of anything, I’ll be sure ’n call.”
I drove to Rennie’s neighborhood, a clean, quiet street lined with 1960s bungalows. I pulled up to the curb in front of Rennie house and parked. “Should we divide and conquer?”
“Sounds like a plan. If you want the west side, I’ll take the east,” Smoke said.
I lifted my eyebrows. “How did you know?”
We got out of the car, and started knocking on doors. Four people responded and were cordial. Not one had seen Rennie. But her next-door-neighbor came around his house from the backyard and said he had seen her the first part of the week. He was pretty sure it was Tuesday.
When we finished canvassing, we climbed back in the car for our long drive home.
CHAPTER 18
At least we got one person who could verify her whereabouts for one day. But Rennie’s not telling all she knows, that’s for sure.” Looking in my rearview mirror, I watched the town of Owensboro disappear from sight.
“Ease up, lead foot,” Smoke said.
I glanced at the speedometer. Smoke’s Crown Victoria was responsive and smooth, and eighty felt like sixty. He settled back in his seat when I lifted some pressure off the accelerator. “The bane of every investigator. We want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
I was back down to the speed limit. “Rennie seemed to downplay whatever it was that was bothering Morgan. And I do know from personal experience that when you’re eighteen certain things seem ten times worse than when you’re thirty.”
“Try fifty.”
“But still. If Morgan would come clean, it might give us a whole new avenue to pursue. We have plenty of testimony about what kind of a guy Gage Leder was, but we need to nail down a specific incident that triggered someone to do what they did.”
“Maybe it wasn’t one incident. Coulda been the accumulation of things over the years, and somebody said, ‘enough!’ About everyone we’ve talked to on this case seems to be hiding something.”
“As you said, it’s time to ramp things up.”
“Yeah, we’ve been dancin’ with these people long enough.”
Sheriff Twardy phoned Smoke as we crossed the Illinois border into Wisconsin. “Hello, Denny. . . . Yeah, making good time. . . . Sure, here she is.” Smoke handed the phone to me. “Sheriff wants to talk to you.”
“Hi Sheriff.”
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, fine. What’s up?”
“We got you a new work cell number. Check your department mailbox for the SIM card. The one in your phone has been disconnected.”
“I don’t think that was necessary. I have a lot of cases I’m working on, people I gave that number to.”
“It’s done. No whining. People can call the office and leave a message for you, if they need to. And keep your personal cell phone off until you get that number changed—”
“Sheriff—”
“Some things are not negotiable. Oh, and tell Dawes I want the two of you in my office tomorrow morning at oh-nine-hundred. And I asked the chief deputy to schedule you for special duty. You’ll be on days for the rest of the week.”
“Yes sir.” We said our goodbyes and disconnected. “Between you, Denny, and my mother, I’m feeling more than a little smothered.”
“Yeah, well?”
I relayed what the sheriff said about the next morning’s meeting, and how he put me on special duty for the we
ek.
“Between you and me and that telephone pole—” he pointed at one as we sped by, “I think he’s grooming you for detective.”
“Really?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
Smoke dropped me off at my house shortly after nine o’clock Tuesday night. I set my bag inside then drove over to my mother’s house to pick up Queenie. Mom was at a church meeting, so I got in and out without having to discuss the trip to Kentucky. When Queenie and I got home, she ran around checking out every nook and cranny, and I phoned Eric.
“Hope it’s not too late to call.”
“No, no, not at all. You’re back all in one piece? So how was your trip?”
“Fine. A long drive. It got a little boring on the way home, so Smoke and I took turns napping.” I wandered around, looking at nothing special, but felt the need to exercise my legs after sitting for the majority of two days.
“You didn’t sleep well in the hotel?”
There was no reason to disclose the sleeping arrangements. “Um, not too bad.” I told Eric about the phone calls from Langley Parker, and how he had haunted my dream.
“Corinne, I’m so sorry. That bastard. I’ll file charges against him for violating his no-contact order.” His voice got louder with each sentence.
“Don’t bother. He’s got so many charges against him now, he’d laugh about that one.”
“You’re probably right, but it’d make me feel like I was doing something about it.”
“I’m sure he’s bored in jail, and might be looking for attention. Why give him the satisfaction of giving him any?”
“When you put it that way, I see your point. So how’d the interview with ex number whichever one she is, go?”
“Number three, Rennie Leder. It was so-so. She isn’t telling all she knows.”
“Does anyone?”
“Maybe one in a hundred. Or a thousand.”
Eric let out a small laugh. “Oh. I was wondering about the ride-along. Did you get it cleared?”
“Not yet. And this week is out, I’m afraid. Sheriff Twardy has freed me up from my regular evening shift to work on this case. We’ll shoot for next week.”
“Sure. See you tomorrow?”
“Hope so. Goodnight, Eric.”
“Night, Corinne.”
I called Sara next. “Corky, I’ve been going a little nuts. You haven’t answered any of your phones.”
“Sorry.” I explained the reason.
“Parker had the audacity to phone you? God, he can’t go away fast enough.” Sara’s voice rose in volume and pitch.
“To a federal prison far, far away.”
We hammered on Langley Parker for a few more minutes. Sharing a hotel room with Smoke was a subject I didn’t want to talk about over the phone, so I let it slide for the time being. When I could no longer ignore Queenie’s pleas for attention, we said our goodbyes.
“Okay, Queenie, tell me the truth, how was life at Kristen Aleckson’s the past two days?” She jumped and yipped. “I know, it’ll take the rest of the week to un-spoil you.”
Sheriff Twardy apologized again that Smoke and I were forced to stay in the same hotel room. He said when he wrote the note for Dina to book two rooms, his “2” looked like an “a.” “My chicken scratch. I can’t even read it,” he explained.
We assured him it was nothing to worry about, as long as no one else besides him—and Dina—knew about it. The sheriff’s department was a rumor mill at times, and almost everyone loved a good story. The juicier and more shocking, the better. If word got out about the night Smoke and I spent together in Owensboro, Kentucky, it wouldn’t be the first time our co-workers would think we were having an affair.
I gave the sheriff a summary of the interview with Rennie Leder. “And I talked to her sister on the phone. She confirmed Rennie was visiting at her house the days she said she was. Rennie said she was home the first part of the week, but she didn’t go out, even to the store. The neighbor we talked to said he saw her working in her yard on Tuesday, but that was the only time all week.”
“That’s something, anyway. She give you any reason to believe otherwise, that she was involved in this whole fiasco?”
“Not specifically, but we’re convinced she’s keeping secrets.”
Smoke’s phone rang. He pulled it from his belt, squinted to read the display and smiled. “Excuse me, but it’s Morgan Leder.” He hit a button. “Detective Dawes. . . . Ah yes, Morgan. . . . Great. Let me write that down.” Smoke pulled his memo pad and pen from his pocket. He bent over the sheriff’s desk and wrote something down. “Thank you. That helps a lot. . . . We’ll be in touch. Goodbye.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, that was timely. Morgan was packing to move back home and found a phone number in one of her notebooks. She forgot it was there. It was from a time Gage Leder called her—she’s not sure when it was, a few months ago maybe. She wrote it down in case she needed to call him, but never did. She thought he might have had a different phone by now, but it’s worth checking.”
The sheriff made a fist and dropped it on his desk. “Even if it’s an old number, it could lead us to one of his contacts. Someone who knows something. And if it was his most recent number, all the better.”
“Yes, we’d see if Leder was talking to anyone interesting before he died,” I said.
“And we can check the home and cell numbers of everyone on our ‘most likely to have a vested interest in Gage Leder’s death’ list. To clear them, if nothing else,” Smoke said.
Bob Edberg appeared at the door and said, “Is it all right to come in?”
Sheriff lifted his hand in a quick wave. “Sure, good timing, in fact. Tell us what you got.”
“How was your trip?” he asked, looking from Smoke to me.
Smoke raised and lowered his shoulder. “It did not remove Miss Rennie from the equation.”
“Huh. This is about the biggest damn mess of a case I can remember. Like the layers of an onion. You peel one away, and another, and there’s still a dozen more,” Edberg said.
Smoke nodded. “Tell me about it.”
“At least now we’ve got a number to look for on the phone records of the ex-wives, the cousin, the sister and brother-in-law,” I said.
“We’ve got the warrants signed, but not all the records released yet. We’ll get the list together of what we do have, and assemble a team to start cross-referencing. The general consensus is that no one from Leder’s past has had much, if any, contact with him for some time. We’ll find out if that’s true,” Smoke said.
“Any preference of who you want on your team?” The sheriff said.
“Whoever you can pull in. Let’s shoot for one o’clock and we’ll work with what records we’ve got by then.”
We met deputies Bob Edberg, Brian Carlson, and Todd Mason in the courthouse conference room. The sheriff had called them in two hours early, before their regular evening shifts began. Everyone was milling around the front of the room by two six foot long rectangular tables. Edberg, Smoke, and I had obtained print-outs of the home phone records for Willie and Donna Noding, Sheila Walker, and Tonya and Gage Leder, and the business phone records for Dustin and Aaron Leder. They were laying in piles on one of the tables.
“They were the easy ones to get, they’re all local companies.” Smoke said, and walked over to the white board that spanned the length of the east wall. “I appreciate all your help here, troops. Okay, here’s what we’re looking at. Home and cell numbers on all the principals.”
“What about their work numbers? We already got the one,” I said.
“Yeah, we’ll check them too, but some will take more time, and more finagling. The out-of-state-hospital. The school. No problem getting the one here at the courthouse. We’ll start with the personal numbers, work on them today. Plus, we’ll be able to see if any calls were made to another’s work from the personal numbers we got. The outgoing is for another day.” Smoke turned to the b
oard and picked up a dry erase marker from its ledge. He wrote Gage’s initials and last known number toward the top and center of the board, then moved to the left side of the board and wrote the initials of each family member—current and ex—and the two friends, underlining them as he moved down the line.
Smoke faced us again. “Corky, read the phone numbers to me, if you will.” We had put all the names and numbers on a single sheet for easier reference. I read each one. Some had a cell number only. Some had a home number and a cell number. Some had work, home, and cell.
Bob raised his hand shoulder level. “Detective, more of the home number records may be in my e-mail box by now.”
“Sure. You go check on that. Aleckson, Carlson, Mason, have at it. I’m going to swing by communications and give Sergeant Hastings Leder’s number, and ask him to check if his cell phone pinged off any towers in Winnebago County in the last month, particularly the last days before his death. Might be able to narrow his location down.”
I raised my shoulders. “Why didn’t we think of that as soon as we got Leder’s number? His cell phone was never found. If it got dropped somewhere, communications can track it—if it’s on, and the battery’s not dead.”
“And it’s somewhere in this county,” Edberg said.
“Three big ifs, but I’m for holding onto that thread of hope,” Smoke said.
We worked diligently, without break, until a few minutes before three. Even the sheriff got involved, pulling strings and calling in professional favors from the Daviess County, Kentucky Sheriff’s Department. The Owensboro Hospital agreed to let their own sheriff’s department go through the records, checking them against the Minnesota numbers we had faxed them, to maintain as much patient privacy as possible. The sheriff’s department assured us they would get the warrant as soon as possible. Hopefully, in the next day or two.
The five of us sat at the tables, circling matching numbers on the records we had, even though we were missing a lot of them. Twardy had told Mason and Carlson they could keep working with us until they got a call for service after their scheduled shift began. At three o’clock, Carlson had a call pending, so he left. At three-forty-five, Mason got his first call and sprinted off. Although nothing incriminating came to light on our list of potential suspects, we had made far more progress in those few hours than any of us thought possible.
The Noding Field Mystery Page 15
