Shortly after four, voices in the reception area caught my ear. I rolled my head to stretch the kinks out of my neck and got up from my desk. It was time for a break.
I found Nuala talking to a couple in front of Ivy’s reception desk. She raised a hand to me in greeting. “Pat, this is our client, Bea Greeley.”
I recognized the name Greeley—the family who installed the rose window in the church.
The white-haired woman smiled at me. She had a round, freckled face like a raisin bun.
“And Ted Stohl, who runs The Highland Times,” Nuala added. “He’s writing another article on this branch.”
I noted that Ted had the same surname as Bruce, Celia’s new resident at the rectory.
Nuala turned to Ted. “Pat Tierney is here from Toronto for our opening. You should talk to her.”
Ted took my hand in a firm grip. He was some years younger than Bea, and wore his silver hair brushed back from his face and tucked behind his ears.
“Nuala’s given me a rundown of your services,” he said. “We’ll run a photo of the building’s exterior.”
“Nuala’s the person to interview,” I said. “She’s the branch manager.”
He handed me his business card. “The Times comes out once a week. The article will be in Saturday’s paper.”
“I’ll have your portfolio ready in a few days,” Nuala said to Bea. “Come in on Monday and I’ll go over it with you.”
Ted smiled. “We’ll both come in. Around two okay?”
“Fine,” Nuala said and moved toward the door.
I looked at Ted. “Mr. Stohl—”
“Ted,” he said.
“Ted, I met another Stohl yesterday. Bruce. Any relation?”
His face shut down and he didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” I said.
“My son,” he said curtly. He held the front door open for Bea and helped her down the stairs. He didn’t look back.
“It’s a small world up here,” Nuala said when the door had closed behind them. “Not only does everyone know everyone else, but they all seem to be related. If you wanted to prove the idea of six degrees of separation, you’d have to look no further than the Glencoe Highlands.”
I’d seen the movie by that name. The theory was that we are all about six steps away, by way of introduction, from every other person on Earth.
“That wasn’t what I’d call a display of fatherly affection,” I said as I followed her into her office. “What’s the beef between Ted and his son?”
“I haven’t been here long enough to know.” She perched on the window seat in the bay window.
I slipped into the chair in front of her desk. “Are there other family ties I should be aware of?”
“Well, Bea’s related to Soupy. Second or third cousin. Soupy passed her on to me.”
“As he should have,” I said. “An advisor should never work with family members.”
She smiled. “He thinks she’s a dotty old bird. I have no problem with her, but her boyfriend…” She rolled her eyes. “Bea is an affluent, seventy-nine-year-old widow. Ted mentioned that he’s sixty-eight. So what does that tell you?”
“That she’s eleven years older than him.”
“If he was a woman, he’d be called a gold digger.
“They’re a couple?”
She examined her fingernails, which were painted the same shade of coral as her lipstick. “I assume so. He wants to know everything I’m doing with her money.”
“Relax. You’re managing it. He hasn’t talked her into letting him invest it for her.”
“That will come, I’m sure.” She ran her tongue over her coral lips. “He’ll question every move I make. Then I’ll get a call from Bea saying she wants to close her account.”
“Does she seem to be mentally competent?”
“She’s one of those clingy women. Looks to Ted as an authority on everything. Otherwise she seems sound of mind.”
“Children?”
“A married daughter in Toronto.”
“Does the daughter have power of attorney?”
Nuala nodded. “For now.”
“Encourage Bea to bring her into the loop. Ask to meet her when she visits Bea.”
“Ted would go for that? I don’t think so.”
“Bring it up on Monday.”
Nuala locked eyes with me. “Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill here, but I don’t like to see vulnerable people like Bea get hurt.”
My heart warmed to her. The woman had talent, energy and, best of all, integrity. Keith was right. She was a terrific addition to the firm.
“Does that come from your time with Optimum in Lindsay?”
Nuala bowed her head slightly, then nodded. “You heard about that?”
“Yes.” I paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She seemed to hesitate. “Sure, but what more can I tell you…”
“I just want to see if there’s a lesson to be learned from that sad business. Something we might watch out for here.” I paused. “Tell me about Ken Burrows.”
“Soupy reminds me of Ken,” Nuala said. “Young, confident, a go-getter. Ken brought in a lot of clients. Charmed the retirees he stole from.”
“Anything in his behavior that suggested he would—”
“No. Everyone at the branch was stunned.”
“Any large purchases before this happened? Expensive tastes?”
She shook her head. “He liked to dress well and he wore expensive suits.” She motioned to her own outfit. “But so do I.”
“What’s your take on the investigation? Thorough enough?”
“Oh yes. The forensic accountants, the police—they were there for weeks. They went over all our accounts, checked hard drives on all the computers at the office and even our home computers. In the end, they found Ken’s client accounts were the only ones with money missing. And that his computer was the only one that had been used to make offshore deposits.”
“How did he expect to get away with it?” I wondered aloud. “I’ve heard of cases where crooked advisors have taken small amounts over extended periods of time to try to conceal their thefts, but this seems so…so…”
“Blatant?” Nuala said. “The police say Ken planned to take the money and run. Well, he took the money but he never got the chance to run. He was arrested at his home.”
She paused to examine her nails again. “What really upsets me is that Ken stole hard-earned money from retirees. Those people depended on that money. Why he won’t own up to what he did, I don’t understand.”
“How did Optimum or the police get wind of the fraud?”
“I don’t know. A client complaint, probably.”
I thought of the letter Keith had received. “What do you think of the way Optimum handled it?”
“Everything was by the book, from what I could tell. And they made restitution.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I saw an opportunity for advancement with Norris Cassidy, pure and simple. It’s a solid company and I’m now a branch manager. Maybe I’ll have a shot at an executive suite one day.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
I rose to leave. “Have you settled into your new home?”
Her face lit up. “I have. I bought a little bungalow here in town. I can walk to work if I have to. This summer I’ll get myself a kayak and explore the lakes.”
“Are you on your own?” She wasn’t wearing a wedding band but that didn’t mean anything.
“Oh, yes.”
I realized she wouldn’t have made friends in the area yet. “Come over for dinner this weekend,” I told her.
When I left the branch later that afternoon, I drove up Highway 36, past Black Bear Lake, to the village of Donarvon. Nowak Heating was a few miles north of the village. With its yard full of fuel tanks and trucks, my first reaction was that it was a blight on the boreal landscape. Then I realized that this business employed s
everal people, which allowed them to live in a part of the world they liked. I waited for a fuel truck to pull into the yard, then I swung into the parking lot.
Inside the building, I found a toothy redhead zipping up her parka. “Is Greg Nowak in?” I asked.
She smiled and stepped into an office behind the reception desk. “Lady here to see you, Mr. Nowak,” I heard her say.
A man with a dark moustache emerged from the office. Mara seemed to have inherited her good looks from him.
“I’m Pat Tierney. I—”
“The investment woman from Toronto,” he said, coming over to the reception counter. “Soupy’s told me about you. The missus and me will be at your seminar tomorrow night.”
I smiled, unsure how to begin. “Soupy hoped to take on Lyle Critchley as a client.”
“He told me that. Missed out on a good one.”
“I understand you bought Lyle’s business a few years ago.”
“Lyle decided to sell when Edna took sick. It made good sense to roll it into Nowak Heating.”
“There wasn’t anything about how Lyle did business that—”
He rested his elbows on the counter. “Made a former customer set fire to his garage? That’s what the police asked me.”
“Well?”
“We don’t solve our differences that way ’round these parts.”
“Somebody did.”
He paused for a moment. “Lyle was a cranky old bugger, but I have to say he knew the business inside-out. He was up to scratch on all the latest industry regulations, and the sheet metal shop he had on Highway 187 was as clean as a cat’s whiskers. The furnaces and cooling systems he installed were first-rate.”
“So—”
“Ma’am, I haven’t heard one peep of complaint from Lyle’s customers.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Snow began to fall on the drive back to Black Bear Lake. By the time I’d pulled into the driveway, I had my windshield wipers going full blast in order to see what was ahead of me.
“Welcome home!” Celia called out when I opened the front door.
Laura lay sprawled on a couch, flipping through a magazine. Tommy and Maxie were on the rug in front of the fireplace. Celia was curled up in an armchair.
I sat at the end of the couch that Laura had taken over and shook her foot gently. “You haven’t started dinner yet? I called an hour ago.”
Celia held up her hands. “Dinner is coming to us tonight.”
“There’s pizza delivery out here?”
She grinned. “Who needs pizza? The chef at the Winagami has cooked dinner for us.”
“Chef at the Winagami?”
“Devon’s arranged to have dinner delivered from the hotel.” She glanced at her watch. “It should be here in about ten minutes.”
I was upstairs changing into jeans and a flannel shirt when the telephone rang. “It’s Tracy, Mom,” Laura called. “She wants to speak to you.”
“I’ll pick up my car in Orillia tomorrow,” Tracy said when I got on the bedroom extension. “My boss says I can leave work early. My friend Hannah will drive me.”
Orillia, where the Ontario Provincial Police has its headquarters, is a 90-minute drive north of Toronto. “The police told you not to leave the city,” I said.
“They must be okay with it because a police officer called this morning and told me to come for my car. Have you found anything about Jamie?”
“I’ve been focusing on Lyle,” I said. “We need to find out as much as we can about him to know why he sent Jamie that letter. I’d say the letter is key to everything.”
I told her about my visit to Nowak Heating, and that I had ruled out unhappy customers as suspects in Lyle’s murder. I felt pretty pleased with myself, but it wasn’t good enough for Tracy.
“Mom, focus on Jamie,” she snapped. “We still don’t know where she is.”
“I’ve been here all of two days,” I shot back. “What do you expect? I’m an outsider here. If Jamie doesn’t want to be found, anyone who knows where she is won’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just that…I’m worried.”
“Honey, Jamie has her reasons for keeping out of sight. She’ll turn up.” I told her about Lyle’s visit to the branch the week before.
“He sounds like an old curmudgeon,” she said.
“My sentiments exactly.”
My second Winigami meal of the day started with a sublime cream of mushroom soup made with duck stock, followed by spinach-and-goat-cheese salad. The main course was succulent pork tenderloin with green beans and slivered almonds, and roasted potatoes. Dessert was chocolate mousse. There was also a container of macaroni and cheese for Tommy. And a bottle of French Merlot and a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc. We tucked into the meal as if we hadn’t seen food for days.
Celia wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Devon’s some guy.”
“You should marry him, Mom,” Laura muttered as she scraped the last of the mousse from her plate.
Celia raised an eyebrow.
I gave a dismissive wave of my hand.
“You’re gonna marry Devon, Mrs. T?” Tommy asked with his mouth full. “I never been to a wedding.”
“There’s not going to be a wedding, Tommy.” Devon was a great Mr. Right Now but I wasn’t looking for Mr. Right.
“So, Celia,” Laura said, “what’s celibacy like?”
“Laura.” I scowled at my daughter. She thought she was making a statement of some sort, but she was just being rude.
“It means I don’t have to worry about a date for Saturday night,” Celia said.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s celi…celi…?” Tommy wanted to know.
“Something grownups do—or don’t do,” I said.
“Like drinking wine?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
“Can’t say it’s for me,” Laura said.
Partly to change the subject, I brought up the art program at Braeloch College. Ivy had found a flier for it at the public library that afternoon. I took the flier out of my handbag and handed it to Laura. “Why don’t I drive you and Tommy over to the college in the morning, and you can check it out? The launch party at the branch is at ten, but I can drop you off and come back for you around noon.”
Laura looked at the flier, then flung it down on the table.
“Like art at school?” Tommy asked.
“Sounds like it. The flier mentions making puppets and jewelry as well.”
Laura slouched in her chair. “I’m not interested.”
“Tommy might be.” I said. “You could work on your paper while he’s at the college.”
She rolled her eyes. I braced myself for an outburst, and I wasn’t disappointed.
“I gave up my winter break to come up here,” she said. “I’m living like a celibate with Kyle back in the city. A hermit, too. There’s no Internet access in this house, and I have no transportation to get to the library. How can I work on my paper?”
“Tommy, would you and Maxie like to watch a video?” I asked.
He wiggled off his chair. Celia took him to the entertainment unit in the living room. Maxie followed them.
“Our launch is tomorrow,” I said. “But I’ll make sure you get into town on Thursday. I’ll come up with something for Tommy to do while you’re at the library.”
She fixed her eyes on me. “I thought I should let you know.”
“Know what?” I held her gaze but my heart was sinking.
“About next year.”
“Yes?”
“Kyle and me, we want to go to the University of Guelph. We’re getting an apartment. Together.”
The wineglass in my hand crashed to the table. Red wine stained the green-checked cloth. Guelph is a two-hour drive from we live, and Laura had promised that she’d do her undergraduate degree in Toronto if we adopted Tommy. But I didn’t want to discuss that within earshot of the boy. And this business of living with Ky
le would have to wait as well.
“We’ll talk about this later.” I blotted the stain with paper napkins. “Help me clear the table.”
When Tommy was in bed and Laura had retreated to her room with her iPod, Celia poured two snifters of cognac.
I took one of them. “How much did you hear of Laura’s outburst?”
“Not much. Tommy and I were looking through the DVDs you brought.” She threw another log on the fire and squatted down in front of it.
“Laura just announced that she’s going to the University of Guelph next year—even though she promised to stay in Toronto to help with Tommy.”
Celia turned to face me.
“She and her boyfriend are planning to get an apartment there. They’re eighteen years old. It’s not the fact that they’re having sex that bothers me—sorry, Celia.”
I sometimes forgot that Celia was a Catholic nun, and lived according to a code of poverty, chastity and obedience to her religious order. I’d been brought up a Catholic myself but I hadn’t been what you’d call “practicing” for years.
She smiled. “I wasn’t born a nun. I’m well aware that sex is a powerful urge for young people. And not only young people.”
“I don’t want Laura cocooning at eighteen. She should be out meeting people, doing things.”
“Joining the green movement. Protesting tuition fee hikes.”
“Sure.”
“Pat, September is months away. Plenty of things can happen between now and then.”
“And I don’t want to think about any of them,” I said with a sigh.
I must have dozed off because what seemed like minutes later the local television station launched its evening news broadcast with the now-familiar musical fanfare. My watch told me it was ten o’clock.
I sat up on the sofa and rubbed my eyes. Mara Nowak was on the screen. “A snow front has moved into the Glencoe Highlands, Haversham, Barrie and Muskoka. We expect six inches overnight, but snow should have stopped falling by morning. Plows will be on the main highways in the township throughout the night.”
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