Monsignor McCann cleared his throat. “Father Brisebois wants me to ask Fred Hall to take over the sacristan’s duties.”
Celia folded her arms across her chest. “Sherry Vargas asked if she could have the job, and I told her she could. She just lives down the road, so it will be easy for her to set up for Mass in the morning.”
He pursed his lips again. “Sherry...?”
“Sherry Vargas. She just handed you those sandwiches. Which she made, by the way.”
He looked over at Sherry and frowned. “She’s a woman.”
Celia locked eyes with him. “Yes?”
Inspector Foster appeared at the doorway and crossed the room in a few strides. “Where is Bruce Stohl?”
“I’ll get him,” Celia said. “Pat, take Inspector Foster to the kitchen. He can talk to Bruce in there.” She hurried out of the room.
Foster followed me to the kitchen where he stood in the middle of the room and looked around him. I asked if he wanted a coffee. He nodded, but before I could head for Sherry’s coffee urn, he held up a hand. “A question, Ms. Tierney.”
I smiled politely.
“I spoke to Paul Campbell yesterday. He told me he doesn’t know where Critchley invested his money before he came to your branch.”
“That’s right. Lyle made an appointment with Paul for Thursday, when they would have gone over his holdings. But then…” I held out my hands.
“So you don’t know?”
“No, I don’t. You didn’t find a statement of his investments at his home?”
“Just his bank accounts.”
“Then he probably didn’t work with an investment advisor.”
“And that letter you told us about,” he said. “It’s not on Critchley’s computer.”
“Maybe he wrote it by hand.”
“Or maybe it never existed.”
Sherry was pouring coffee for Foster when Celia came up to me. “Bruce isn’t in his room,” she said. “I can’t find him anywhere.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nuala chuckled. “That is too funny. I know it was a funeral but…”
“It wasn’t your usual send-off,” I said from my chair on the other side of Nuala’s oversized desk. I wanted to tell her that putting a huge barrier between herself and her clients wasn’t the way to build business relationships. But I knew she’d take it as criticism.
“So who is Bruce Stohl?” she asked.
“The maintenance man at the church.”
“The church where Lyle Critchley worked?”
“Yes. Bruce and Lyle weren’t the best of buddies.”
“I guess not.” She raised an eyebrow. “Could Bruce have disliked Lyle enough to…well, kill him?”
“From what I’ve seen of him, Bruce is his own worst enemy. I doubt that he’d hurt anyone.”
“He threw a rock into Lyle’s grave.”
“He couldn’t hurt a dead man, could he? And if he’d killed Lyle, why would he draw attention to himself?”
She picked up a pen and began to doodle on a pad on her desk. “He’d been drinking, you said, so he wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe drink loosened his inhibitions last week as well. His feelings for Lyle surfaced and...”
“Lyle’s murder was planned,” I said. “Someone deliberately set that fire. The killer was waiting for Lyle to drive into his garage.”
“Mom.”
I turned to see Laura in the doorway.
“I’ve just come from the library,” she said. “Thought I’d check out your new digs. Pretty swanky.”
I introduced Laura to Nuala, who told her to pull up a chair.
“Cool neckpiece you’re wearing.” Laura was looking at the yellow chunks of stone strung together with silver that Nuala had teamed with a black angora sweater. “Amber, right?”
Nuala smiled and nodded. “Your mom’s just told me about Lyle Critchley’s funeral.”
Laura turned to me. “How’d it go?”
I described what happened in the cemetery. Laura stared at me, speechless.
“Bruce and Lyle didn’t get along,” I said.
“No kidding,” she said. “Is Bruce a suspect? It looks like—”
“Bruce is a troubled man, but I don’t think he’s a killer.”
“The cops need to look at him,” Laura said. “They seem to want to pin the murder on Jamie.”
“Jamie?” Nuala said. “Aren’t the police looking for someone called Jennifer?”
“Yeah,” Laura said. “Jennifer Collins. That’s Jamie.”
“You sound like you know her.”
“I…I…” Laura stammered.
“Jamie’s my older daughter’s partner,” I said.
Nuala raised an eyebrow. “They said on the news that she works at Optimum in Toronto. Why are the police looking for her here?”
“Jamie got this letter from Lyle last week and she drove up here on Thursday,” Laura said. “Nobody’s seen her since.”
“I have work to do,” I said and got out of my chair.
Laura got up too and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Good to meet you, Nuala.” She gave her a little wave. “Gotta get back to the boys.”
Nuala and I watched as Laura loped out of the office.
Nuala smiled at me. “Nice girl.” She paused. “By the way, what did Lyle do at the church?”
“He set up the altar for Mass. Saw that work got done around the building.”
“So he was Bruce’s boss. He may have been impossible to please.”
“He probably was. I gather he could be difficult.”
She flashed me a 100-watt smile. “There you have it! Lyle was on Bruce’s case because he didn’t do things to his standards. Bruce couldn’t take it anymore and set fire to Lyle’s garage. But even after that, he still loathed the man. He had a few drinks today and gave Lyle the send-off he thought he deserved.”
I was amused—and annoyed—by her take on Lyle’s murder. “We’ll see if the police come to the same conclusion.”
At the office door, I turned to face her again. “Come to the house for an early dinner on Sunday.”
She beamed. “Anything I can bring?”
“Just yourself.”
“What time?”
“Around five,” I said, and gave her directions to Black Bear Lake.
The door chimes sounded, and a man’s voice greeted Ivy. Moments later, the phone on my desk rang.
“Gentleman here to see you, Pat,” Ivy said. “Name is Kerry Gallant.”
I groaned. “Send him in.”
A few moments later, Kerry stood in my doorway, a big smile on his face. “Having a good day?”
“I was at a funeral this morning.”
He looked slightly taken aback. “Hey, it was the guy who died in the fire last week, wasn’t it? I heard on the radio his funeral was today.”
“It was.”
“They’re calling it a murder. Do the police know who did it?”
“Why ask me? I’ve been around here less than a week.”
I was about to ask the reason for his visit when he got around to it himself. “How about dinner at the Winagami tonight? I’ve eaten at your place twice now. It’s about time I reciprocated.”
I smiled at him. “There’s no need for that. It’s no trouble for us to set an extra place.”
“I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Thank you, Kerry, but I have to keep an eye on the kids. I don’t want to give Laura and Kyle any more time alone than I have to.”
“They’re cool kids.”
“They may be cool, but they’re eighteen years old and can’t keep their hands off each other. Celia has a meeting tonight, so I’m the chaperone.”
He winked. “It’s going to happen sometime.”
It was none of his business. I should have shut him down there and then, but I went on. “Well, I’d rather it didn’t happen under the same roof as my seven-year-old son.”
“Monday, then? Wendy’s driving up
tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what Celia’s plans for Monday are.”
“I’ll call—”
It was time to nip this in the bud. “Kerry,” I said in my no-nonsense voice, “I’m going to a fundraiser at the Legion tomorrow night. A young advisor at this branch is playing in the band. Why don’t you and Wendy join me? Both of you.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow night, Kerry. I’ll call with details. Now go paint some paintings.”
At three, I’d finished my work and wondered how I could justify my presence at the branch for much longer. Nuala and Soupy had everything under control. All they needed was more clients, but people couldn’t be rushed into decisions that involved their life savings. Keith ought to know that.
I was in the parking lot behind the building when Soupy pulled into his parking space in a bottle-green Porsche. I knew what we were paying him, and I wondered how big a loan he’d taken out to buy that car.
“Nice car,” I said when he opened his window. “It looks brand new.”
He flashed me a grin. “Celebratin’ my new job. Hey, your tickets will be at the door tomorrow night. How many?”
“Four. My daughter will be with me. And two neighbors want to come along too.” I opened my handbag. “How much do I owe you?”
“My treat.”
“You’re sure? Well…I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be at Veronica Collins’ place in the morning. Gotta do the know-your-client thing with her.”
The know-your-client questionnaire is the cornerstone of the financial planning process. Soupy needed to go through the questions with Veronica before he put her into any investments. “Mind if I tag along?” I asked.
The smile left his face. He thought I was keeping tabs on him, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see Veronica again.
“I’ll meet you here,” I said. “What time?”
“Said I’d be there at ten.”
“I’ll see you here at quarter to ten.”
I pulled out of the lot and onto Main Street. I slowed down to wave at Lainey on the sidewalk across the street. She gave me a jaunty salute.
A vehicle barreled past me in the opposite lane, traveling faster than traffic usually moves in Braeloch. A white Mazda with Bruce behind its wheel.
So Bruce did drive Veronica’s car.
Fifteen minutes later, I turned into the lane that led to Al and Ruby’s place. I drove slowly. The ice had started to melt, exposing deep ruts in the ground.
There were no vehicles in the yard, and the window shades and curtains in the house were drawn. I pulled up in front of the barn and stepped out of the car and into the muddy yard. Fang was nowhere to be seen.
I picked my way along the path up the hill. Patches of grass were exposed where the snow had melted. In the snow near the house, I saw three different boot prints. That might have meant that three people were living in the house. Or the prints could have been made by the women’s customers.
I banged on the front door. When no one answered, I followed the veranda around to a side door that I assumed opened into the kitchen. Again, no response.
I heard barking on the property. Fang!
I drew a deep breath and ran to the front of the house, hoping he hadn’t seen me.
I heard the dog’s paws scrabbling along the back porch as he searched for my scent. I dashed for my car. I looked over my shoulder and saw the German shepherd at the front of the house.
Then my feet slid out from under me. I landed on my back on a patch of ice. Hard.
I scrambled up as Fang charged toward me. Heart thumping, I reached the car and fought to open the door. The dog leaped on me, his claws sliding down the front of my coat. The weight of him pushed me flat on my back again. I grabbed the scruff of his neck and held his head away from my face. I knew I couldn’t keep him at bay for long.
Just when I thought I was a goner, a vehicle pulled up beside mine.
Fang froze at the sound of a shrill whistle.
“Fang, get off!” a woman ordered.
The dog backed off me.
“Retreat!”
He moved back a few more steps. He kept his eyes on me and growled.
Shaking, I struggled to my feet.
A heavy woman, her short, dark hair threaded with gray, stood beside the blue pickup I’d seen the day before.
“Fang, go!” She pointed to the house.
The dog growled at me again, then ran off to the house. I exhaled in relief.
“Can’t you read?” The woman pointed to the Beware Of Dogs sign at the gate. “Yer lucky I got here when I did. Seen you here yesterday. Didn’t Al tell you Fang and Killer don’t like strangers?”
“Killer?”
“Our Doberman. Killer has barn duty today. Fang’s on yard patrol.” She paused. “On yer way now.”
“You must be Ruby.”
She squared her shoulders. “Yeah?”
“I’m Tracy’s mother. I’m looking for Jen.”
“Al said you’d find her in Toronto.”
“Tracy’s worried sick about her. Ask Jen to leave a message at this number.” I handed her a slip of paper with the rectory’s phone number on it.
Inside the car, I sank back in the driver’s seat and fingered the rips in my coat. I looked up at the house where Ruby was opening the kitchen door. A curtain twitched on the big window at the front of the house.
Relief washed over me. Ruby had taken the phone number. Jamie would soon be in touch.
Celia led me down the hall to the rectory kitchen. “A sandwich?” she asked. “Something to drink?”
“No thanks. I’ve got to get back to the kids.”
“Well, I need to fuel up for the Catholic Women’s League meeting tonight.” She took four sandwich quarters and a bottle of Evian from the fridge, and sat down at the chipped metal table.
I sat across from her and told her about my latest visit to Al and Ruby’s place. She gasped when I told her about my encounter with Fang. “Some pets those girls have,” she said.
I replayed my brief conversation with Ruby. “You may get a message from Jamie,” I said. “I’m not sure if the police have tapped phone lines at Black Bear Lake, but I don’t think they’ll bother with the rectory.”
“You really think she’s out at the farm?”
“If she’s not, Al and Ruby know where she is. Ruby took the phone number from me.”
I was about to tell her about seeing Bruce in Veronica’s Mazda, when the kitchen door opened and Bruce stepped inside.
Celia pulled her chair back from the table. “Where did you disappear to earlier?”
He shrugged and opened the refrigerator door.
“Help yourself to the sandwiches in the plastic containers,” she said. “Like some tea?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He sat down at the table with a blue plastic box.
She brought a teapot in a red cozy and two mugs to the table. “Inspector Foster came by looking for you.”
He shoved an egg-salad sandwich into his mouth. I averted my eyes.
Celia poured tea into the mugs. “You may want to think about what you’ll say when he returns. He’ll ask why you threw that rock into Lyle’s grave. And where you went afterwards.”
Bruce took another sandwich from the box and turned it over in his hand.
“I saw you driving a white Mazda an hour ago,” I said.
He looked up quickly. “I borrowed it.”
The sound of the front door knocker echoed through the house. Celia sprang to her feet and hurried down the hall.
“You borrowed Veronica Collins’ car?” I asked Bruce.
He gave the sandwich his full attention.
Celia appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Inspector Foster’s here to see you, Bruce. You’ll have to talk to him at some point. Might as well be now.”
He glanced at the back door.
“Stay right where you are.” She hurried back down the hall.
A minute later, Foster pulled up a chair beside Bruce and gave me a curt nod. “Still no word from Ms. Collins?”
“No one’s heard from her,” I said. “Her mother and my daughter are worried.”
He turned to face Bruce. “Where were you a week ago Thursday night, Mr. Stohl?”
“Already told you. At home. At Mrs. Collins’ place.”
“Veronica Collins says she smelled your cigarette smoke around ten-thirty. What were you doing earlier that night?”
“I was in all evening.”
“Watching television?”
“No, I don’t have a TV. I was reading.”
Foster appraised him for a few seconds. “What was that scene you pulled in the graveyard all about?”
Bruce ducked his head. “I…”
“Bruce had been drinking,” Celia said.
Foster held up a hand.
“And he lost it,” she added.
“Let him answer for himself,” Foster thundered.
He turned back to Bruce. “You threw a rock into Critchley’s grave. You didn’t like him, did you?”
Bruce ducked his head again. “Not much.” Then he looked up at Foster. “Doesn’t mean I killed him.”
“Where did you go when you left the cemetery?” Foster asked.
Bruce studied the ceiling. “Came back here for a bit. Then I walked around town.”
I pictured him behind the wheel of Veronica’s car, but I kept that to myself.
“You wanted to avoid explaining why you threw that rock into the grave.”
Bruce took another sandwich out of the box and stuffed it into his mouth.
Foster shut his notebook. “Don’t leave town without letting us know, Mr. Stohl.”
That reminded me of something. “My daughter, Tracy, is driving up here tomorrow,” I said to Foster. “We’d forgotten you told her not to leave Toronto without letting you know.”
“She’ll see Ms. Collins while she’s here?”
“I just told you we don’t know where she is. Tracy wants to see me on my birthday.”
“By all means have her come. She may lead us to her friend.”
Celia took Foster to the front door, and I turned to Bruce. “Why were you driving Veronica’s car this afternoon?”
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