“I’m parking as we speak,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Tell you when you get here. Hurry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lew walked into the bedroom just as Bill was laying out documents on the bed.
“I see Gordon Maxwell is in the other room,” she said as she closed the door behind her.
“S-s-h,” said Osborne. He took her aside while Peter and Bill were conferring. Glancing over her shoulder as she leaned to listen to Osborne, Lew saw Molly, her eyes intent on the four people in the room, standing in one corner, listening.
“Maxwell is the man who grabbed Jessie at the airport,” said Osborne in a low voice. “He walked in less than ten minutes ago. Jessie is pretty upset.”
“And I’m upset,” said Molly, overhearing Osborne. “That man may think it’s nothing to just grab and kiss a woman, but he’s wrong. Chief Ferris, you have to do something.”
“Take it easy,” said Lew. “Molly, this isn’t the only issue I have with Mr. Maxwell. Is Jessie okay for the moment?”
“I think so, but that’s no reason not to—”
“Sorry to interrupt but, Chief Ferris, you need to hear this,” said Peter from across the room. “Bill and I have just compared invoices on the bridge construction throughout the Northern Forest Resorts projects and it’s clear that someone has committed fraud.”
“Fraud? Try out-and-out theft,” said Shauder. He introduced himself to Lew and said, “Chief Ferris, my construction firm was hired to build or repair three bridges over new trout streams designed by Peter. I was told in a private meeting with Gordon Maxwell to submit my invoices for the supplies and manpower to him directly. That is what I have been doing.”
“Okay,” said Lew, “where is the problem?”
Peter stepped in to say, “From the beginning my understanding was that I should receive all invoices on construction whether lodge buildings or otherwise. I was to then submit those to Chuck Pelletier. Chuck was in charge of the finances for the entire development.
“What Bill and I have just learned is that the invoices that Bill submitted were altered to increase costs substantially. Also, they were submitted to me not by Bill but by someone by the name of Tom Patterson.”
“And I have never heard or met such an individual,” said Bill. “He certainly does not work for me.”
“Are you saying an intermediary between Gordon Maxwell and you, Peter, falsified the financial figures?”
“Not only that but Chuck and I authorized payment based on those invoices. That’s what had Chuck so worried: those costs had gone over my estimates by several million dollars.”
“Bill,” asked Lew, “were you paid for your firm’s work?”
“Yes but for the amounts I submitted—nothing more. And, interestingly enough, the invoices from this Patterson fellow show payments are to be made to a firm I’ve never heard of.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked Lew.
“That’s odd, too,” said Peter. “The fraudulent paperwork is on one bridge only, which is the third and final one that Bill’s crew has been working on.”
“And what is weird about that,” said Bill, “is that all that was needed on that bridge was reinforcing the existing culverts, which is a very small job.” Osborne could see Bill was looking distressed, as if he were the one being accused of falsifying the invoices.
Lew reached over to put a hand on Bill’s arm. “Before you hyperventilate, Bill, let me ask Peter to call this Mr. Patterson,” she said. Then she turned to Peter and did just that. “Can you call this Patterson person and ask him to meet me in my office in an hour?” she asked him.
“I would be happy to, but I have no contact information for the guy,” said Peter. “Gordon handled that communication and I have had enough going on with all the other contractors, I didn’t have any reason to talk to the guy until this.”
“What about when he turned in his invoices?” asked Osborne. “Did you ever question him?”
“I have never seen the guy,” said Peter. “Those invoices always came in over the weekend and were slipped into Chuck’s in-box without me having anything to do with them. Except that my name was forged on those to indicate I had approved them.”
“Okay,” said Osborne, “let’s ask Maxwell for Patterson’s number. He’s in the other room. Chief, do you want me to ask him for it?”
“No, Doc, let me do that,” said Lew.
“Okay, but why don’t I check with Marion, too, in case she has a number,” said Osborne.
“Good,” said Lew. “Ask her if she’s met Patterson, too.”
* * *
Osborne was about to leave the room when Molly, who had been listening from where she stood in the corner behind Osborne, spoke up. “Before you go, Dr. Osborne, I need to check on Jessie. And while I’m up, I’d like to use the bathroom. Can you steer me in the right direction?”
“The guest bath is that way,” said Osborne, pointing as Molly headed out of the room. “And if it’s occupied, there’s another one downstairs.”
After she left, Osborne said, “Chief, several of the other contractors working on the development are among the guests still on the porch. After I ask Maxwell for the phone number, do you have any problem with my asking those contractors a few questions? I’d like to know if they saw or heard anything unusual in the days or weeks before Chuck died.”
“Go right ahead,” said Lew. “I have a few more questions for Bill, too.”
Osborne walked into the living room with Peter, who pointed out three men who owned firms involved with the construction of the lodge buildings. Determined to get the phone number from Maxwell, Osborne looked for him first, but the man was nowhere in sight.
“He said he had to get something from his car,” said one of the caterers standing by the table holding desserts. “Said he’d be right back and to hold a piece of cake for him.”
While waiting for Maxwell, Osborne decided to check with the three men who Peter had pointed out as being involved with the lodge construction. The first two he questioned insisted that they had seen or heard nothing unusual. They also denied that they had been by Chuck’s office that morning.
The third man mulled over Osborne’s question before answering. “Now that you mention it, Dr. Osborne, I did see something peculiar. I had stopped by the office that morning and after chatting with Marion, I got myself a cup of coffee for the road and a doughnut. When I was leaving, I walked through the covered garage where some of us park in bad weather and ran into this sketchy-looking guy poking around the two cars parked there. One was Chuck’s SUV, the other Marion’s Mini Cooper.
“I asked him what he was looking for and he said a tire jack. When I suggested that he check inside for help, he said he would.”
“Any chance you know the guy?” asked Osborne.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know him, but I’ve definitely seen him before. A local. About a year ago, he applied to work for me. The dude does some logging around the area. A real loser type, goes by ‘Tommy.’ That’s as much as I know.”
* * *
Molly stood waiting outside the bathroom. When the door opened and out walked the wife of one of the contractors, Molly smiled and said, “My turn.” She entered and closed the door behind her. Moments later, while washing her hands and then drying them on one of the hand towels set out for guests, she leaned forward to peer out the window over the sink.
She could see the backyard and a small screened-in porch attached to the garage. Figures could be seen moving behind the porch screens. Molly watched as the figures, in shadow, appeared to embrace. They held still for a long moment. Molly smiled, imagining the couple must be Marion and her husband or maybe one of the other couples—a contractor and his wife, perhaps—who had been so kind to come to the memorial service for her dad.
Then the figures parted and walked out of the porch into the backyard toward Osborne’s house. Molly’s mouth dropped open. She watched in
stunned silence as the man and woman touched fingers for a brief second before moving forward.
The couple? Gordon Maxwell and Patricia Milligan Pelletier.
* * *
Molly burst into Osborne’s bedroom where Lew, Bill Shauder, and Peter Bailey were ending their discussion. Osborne walked in behind her and was about to ask Lew if she had been able to get Patterson’s phone number from Maxwell when he saw Molly waving her arms for him to close the door and for everyone to hear what she had to say.
“You won’t believe this,” she said in a loud whisper. “I just saw Gordon Maxwell and my stepmother kissing out back. Now I know she was having an affair. Dad was right!”
“Are you sure he wasn’t just offering her support?” asked Osborne. But even as he spoke, he knew the truth.
“Don’t, don’t . . .” warned Molly, speechless with anger as she waggled a finger at Osborne.
“Molly, I believe you,” said Lew. “And I know that man accosted your sister. But you need to pull it together. You need to calm down. Now.”
Lew was very adamant that Molly shut up, which surprised Osborne. He was thankful she did. If she had been one of his daughters, he doubted he would have been able to control her.
“Take a seat on the bed, please,” Lew said, sitting down. “I have something to tell you.” She reached for Molly’s arm to pull her down beside her as the three men watched in silence.
Molly yanked her arm away and turned her back for a long moment. Then she sat, shoulders hunched. “All right. What.” She stared at Lew.
“Everyone has to keep this in confidence,” said Lew, her eyes connecting with each person in the room. “I am building a case against Gordon Maxwell and whoever this Tom Patterson is—for fraud and more—possibly murder.”
“Don’t forget my stepmother.” Molly’s voice was grim.
“Right now I know from Dani’s research that Maxwell managed to weasel out of fraud charges in Florida so I can’t let him know that I’m on to him yet. What I have just learned from Bill and Peter is that he has been working a similar scam here. This Tom Patterson character, the falsifying of the bridge expenses, and the use of an unfamiliar firm to receive those payments—it’s all a front for embezzling from the Partridge Lodge development project.
“But I cannot walk out of this room and arrest him yet.”
At the flash from Molly’s eyes, Lew said, “I need twenty-four hours is all. I need time to document everything and sit down with our district attorney and the judge to get a warrant for the arrest of Gordon Maxwell. Does everyone here understand this? Do you agree to say nothing until I can move forward?”
Everyone, including Molly, nodded in agreement.
“And, Peter,” said Lew, “I repeat, stay safe. You are a key witness.”
* * *
As the guests started to leave, Lew poured herself one last cup of coffee from the caterer’s large coffee urn. Gordon Maxwell was standing nearby in conversation with one of the contractors. Osborne started toward him but Lew waved him off.
“Excuse me, Mr. Maxwell,” said Lew, “we haven’t met. I’m Chief Lewellyn Ferris with the Loon Lake Police. I have a question for you. I need to reach your colleague Tom Patterson. Can you give me his phone number, please?”
Setting down the plate of cake that he was holding, Maxwell reached into the side pocket of the suit coat he was wearing and pulled out a cell phone. He clicked it on and studied it for a long minute. “Darn,” he said, “I was sure I had Tom in here. But this is a new phone and I haven’t transferred all my contacts. Sorry about that.
“Do you have a card, Chief Ferris? I can find the number later and give you a call tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Just fine,” said Lew. “Incidentally, I believe you bought a piece of property from a friend of mine recently.”
“Not sure where you got that information,” said Maxwell, looking irritated and, plate in hand, turning away, as if their conversation was over.
“The property is an older home on the lake channel a few miles from here,” said Lew, raising her voice. “You offered quite a bit less than the property was assessed at. I’m curious how you arrived at that figure.”
Maxwell stared at her before saying in a condescending tone, “I don’t think any of my business should be a concern of yours.”
Osborne, listening from a few feet away, had to smother a smile. The guy was getting into dangerous territory.
“I’m also curious as to why you have not yet provided any of the signed paperwork necessary to record the sale. In fact, I have also learned that you are in the process of reselling that property to Northern Forest Resorts for ten times what you paid the original owner.”
“How do you know that?” asked Maxwell, surprised.
“It’s in the e-mails on Chuck Pelletier’s laptop.”
“It is?” said Maxwell, taken aback. He recovered quickly. “You know,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I don’t have time for this. Lady, that’s how real estate is done. Fact of life—people always get less than they expect. Not my problem. Sorry.”
He turned back to the contractor, whose mouth had dropped open as he listened to the exchange.
Lew signaled Osborne with her eyes and they walked onto the porch, now empty of guests except for Molly and Jessie.
“Give me a few hours,” said Lew to the two young women. “Then Doc and I want to talk to you later. Back here for leftovers if that’s okay.”
“I told Jessie what I saw,” said Molly with an edge of defiance.
“Fine,” said Lew. “I have no problem with that but you need to know more before you do or say another word.” She leaned forward to whisper, “You must not compromise this investigation. Do I make myself clear?”
It wasn’t a question and the girls knew it. “So here at Doc’s later?”
The two heads nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On her way back to the police station, Lew saw that she had time to stop by the house where Lorraine was staying with her friend, Gloria. The two women were sitting in front of the television set watching a game show when Lew got there.
“Any news from the buyer of your property?” Lew asked as she sat down on a small couch beside her former mother-in-law.
“Not a peep,” said Lorraine, resignedly. “Do you know more? My home is gone, isn’t it?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Lew. “The fact you don’t have a formal bill of sale yet may mean the deed hasn’t been submitted to the Register of Deeds, which means it is not yet official. I’m hoping to prevent that from happening, so keep your fingers crossed.”
* * *
The brief conversation Lew had had with a clerk in the Register of Deeds office earlier that day had been helpful. They looked up Lorraine’s property records and nothing had yet been changed. “You won’t believe how sloppy people are when it comes to registering deeds,” the clerk’s assistant had said. She clarified that with no new deed registered, the sale of a piece of property might be challenged.
Lew was operating on the vague hope that whoever it was that had approached Lorraine might be attempting to forge her signature on an official bill of sale. That whoever it was might be the same party forging Bill Shauder’s name on invoices. And that whoever it was might be the individual known as Gordon Maxwell.
* * *
Lew leaned over to show Lorraine the photo she had borrowed from Charlene. “Does this man look familiar?”
Lorraine took the framed photo from her and studied it. “Yes. That’s the other real estate agent who made me sell my house. So handsome and that’s his wife?”
“Lorraine, I’m not interested in his wife. I want to know if you’ve seen this man before.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s the other man who came to my house with the one who has the big hair. This man had the plat book that showed the lot lines for my property. He’s the one said he knew the county was going to condemn my property. He se
emed to know what he was talking about. . . . They both did.”
The old woman gave a weak smile. “Guess I’m not very smart, am I?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Lorraine,” said Lew, getting to her feet. “Anyone would have believed those two. But if you’re sure, then this is just what I need to know.
“So say your prayers, Lorraine. Those guys might think they’re smart but—you and me—we got their number. This might work out yet.” She gave the old woman an encouraging smile and a hug.
Back in her office she placed a call to the district attorney and the judge, both of whom she was able to reach at home. After sharing the information she had from Bill Shauder and Peter Bailey, they assured her an arrest warrant would be ready in the morning.
Her next call was to the DNR official working on the theft of the birch trees. She described the scene on the private land that Ray had shown her and encouraged him to track down “a sometime-logger who goes by ‘Tommy’ Patterson. You won’t find him at the address in the phone book,” she said. “He’s going through a divorce and doesn’t live there anymore. I suggest you have your people try the bars.”
Then she drove out to Osborne’s. Letting herself in the back door, she could hear voices—Osborne’s and two loud female ones. She headed for the porch. Three people looked up as she walked in and Lew could see Molly and Jessie were tense. She hadn’t even gotten to “hello” before Molly said, “Gordon Maxwell murdered my dad, Chief Ferris. I know he did. He might not have been there, but he’s the reason my dad is dead.”
“You may be right, Molly,” said Lew, sitting down on the porch swing across from her. “But here’s what I have to deal with and I want you to listen hard because accusing is one thing, proving is another.”
Molly opened her mouth to say something but Lew raised a hand to stop her, saying, “Wait. Please.
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