Fort Point (Maine Justice Book 2)

by Davis, Susan Page

  “I’ve done that, gorgeous.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. She laid her head against his chest. Slowly she slid her hands in on his vest, under his jacket, and around his waist.

  Softly, she said, “I know you said you had some money from the stocks, but even a down payment for this would be…”

  “Let’s find out.” He stood still, holding her. She leaned away, to look at him. the smile she couldn’t resist lit his face, and she melted back against his vest.

  “I thought if we got a house, it would be little, like the one Beth and I are living in. This one is huge! I don’t know if I could keep it clean, let alone pamper the roses. It would be a full-time job.”

  “If you couldn’t handle it, I’d get someone to help you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. This is a great house. Besides, it’s something that matters, so I get the final word.” He kissed her, and she kissed him back, but she was still a bit uneasy.

  He said, “I think it’s time to talk turkey with Mr. Bailey.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t want to listen. I’d be too disappointed.”

  They found him sitting in the living room. He started to get up, and Harvey said, “Please sit, Mr. Bailey. I think we’re ready to talk price.” He smiled and sat on the sofa.

  “Do you mind if I take another look at the sunroom?” Jennifer asked.

  “Go right ahead,” Mr. Bailey, and Harvey gave her a reassuring smile.

  She walked in there and looked out at the beautiful, big backyard. Her heart was pounding so hard, she couldn’t distinguish what the men were saying, but heard their calm voices in the other room.

  She dared to open the glass door and step outside, onto ramp leading down to a flag-stoned patio. She could picture Harvey mowing the lawn, and a swing set near the fence.

  Their voices grew louder, and she went back inside. Harvey and Mr. Bailey had come into the sunroom.

  “Sir, if we decide we want the house, when would you need to know?” Harvey asked.

  “Well, of course I’d like to know as soon as possible, but … a week?”

  He looked at Jennifer, smiling. “I think that’s more than enough time.”

  The older man nodded. “You talk it over.”

  “I’ll get back to you soon,” Harvey said.

  They all went back through the kitchen. Jennifer looked around again, taking in the maple cabinets with glass in the upper doors, ample work space, and textured steel appliances. A small round table and two chairs sat to one side, and she pictured them eating there in the kitchen, not the big dining room. It wasn’t that far from Eddie’s place. He could come for coffee in the morning, when it was his turn to drive Harvey to work.

  “The plumbing and heating are all good,” Mr. Bailey said. He told Harvey what the taxes were. As they passed the utility room, he said, “I wouldn’t want to take the appliances. If you wanted them, I’d leave all the kitchen appliances and the washer and dryer.”

  Jennifer gulped and went out at the breezeway. Harvey thanked Mr. Bailey and followed her.

  He opened her door on the Explorer. “Do you want to eat supper out?”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather go home and see if Beth is back, if you don’t mind. I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  Harvey headed back toward the little yellow house in the neighborhood of small rentals.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  “I think we can’t afford it.”

  “What else do you think?”

  “I think it’s a dream house. It’s what I would hope for years from now. When you’re retired and the children are through college.”

  “It would be too big for us then, just like it is for Mr. Bailey now. I’d be seventy years old, and too crippled to climb the stairs. It’s the house we want now, Jenny.”

  “Well, what did he say? We can’t go into debt. Remember our first counseling session, about finances?”

  “I can do this,” Harvey said calmly. “He told me what it’s appraised at, and then he offered a generous reduction. When he heard I could pay cash, he lowered the price even more.”

  Jennifer swallowed hard. She wanted to ask why he would do that, but she thought she knew. Everyone respected and loved Harvey.

  “You can pay cash?”

  He grinned. “I could, if I liquidated all my stock. But he doesn’t want it all at once. He asked me to make one payment a year for five years, for tax purposes. It will help us both.”

  She couldn’t say anything. She had almost expected that she would have to keep working if they bought a house and took a mortgage.

  He turned in at the driveway to her house and shut the engine off. Beth’s car wasn’t there. He laid his glasses on the dashboard and put his arm around her shoulders, looking her in the face. “Jenny, I can do this. Please let me.”

  She sat very still.

  “Say something.”

  “I … you …” The breath went out of her in a little puff. “How much do you have, if I may ask.”

  “As of Friday, almost a quarter of a million.”

  “That’s … I can’t cope with this.” She fumbled for the door handle. He reached over and laid his warm hand on her arm.

  “Sit still, gorgeous.” He put both arms around her and cuddled her on his shoulder, the way Rick Bradley held his two-year-old when she went splat on the aisle rug at church. They sat for a few minutes without saying anything, then he asked, “Do you like the house?”

  “You know I do. But—”

  “But what?”

  “You can’t—well, even if you can, you shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? It’s my dream. A home for the woman who loves me. A comfortable home that’s beautiful and has plenty of room for the little ones God will give us.”

  “It would take all your savings, and you wouldn’t have a cushion.”

  “Not quite all, but by paying in installments, my investments won’t be wiped out. They’ll recover some in between. Sweetheart, the one thing that would make me stop considering it would be if you said you’d rather live out in the willywacks, on a farm or something. We can do that if you want to.”

  She pulled in a ragged breath. “The back yard is huge. There’s room for a swing set.”

  He kissed her, and she didn’t object. It was part of the fantasy come true. A few moments later there was a knock on the passenger side window. Beth had driven in and was standing just outside. Harvey turned the key part way and put the window down.

  “You’d better come inside,” she said. “You’re fogging up the windows.”

  Jennifer jumped out and threw her arms around Beth.

  “It’s the most wonderful house, Beth! Thank you so much for telling us about it!”

  Harvey got out and walked around the vehicle, smiling at Beth.

  “You’re buying it?” she asked.

  “Harvey says we can. I can’t believe it. It’s fantastic! Have you ever seen it?”

  “Yes, I was over there twice, before Mrs. Bailey died. Her rose garden was beautiful.”

  “It still is. What if I kill her roses?”

  Beth laughed. “There was some ugly dark furniture in the dining room.”

  “It’s still there,” Harvey assured her.

  They went in, with Harvey carrying Beth’s luggage. She and Jennifer made sandwiches, talking as they worked about the house and the wedding.

  Beth went to her room to change after supper, and Harvey helped Jennifer clean up. As he wiped off the table, he said, “I think we should both sleep on this house thing, and pray about it. If we both still want it tomorrow night, I’ll call Mr. Bailey.”

  Jennifer stopped drying the plate in her hand. “Be honest. Don’t you hate to spend all your money like that?”

  “No, it would make me very happy. I’m thankful that I can do it, and that I didn’t just waste it all over the years.” He looked steadily into her eyes, and a thrill of joy shot thro
ugh her.

  “Jenny, let’s pray about it now,” he said. “I feel like I want the house, and you want the house, and we’d be happy there.”

  “Anyone would be happy there. But with you—” She gave him a fierce hug.

  Chapter 10

  Monday, June 28

  Mike’s chair was empty on Monday morning, and the top of his desk was bare of paperwork. His empty coffee mug sat near the coffeemaker.

  Arnie and Pete came over to Harvey’s desk.

  “So,” said Arnie, “we don’t seem to have anything new this morning. Pete’s got a hearing this afternoon, but if you need us for the Blake case, we’re at your disposal.”

  “Thanks.” Harvey gave them a brief rundown on Fort Point and the glasses Eddie had found. “We’ve got to move on this thing. Eddie will call the state lab and see if there’s anything on the bloodstain. Can you call Frederick’s optician and ask if he’ll try to identify the glasses?”

  “Sure,” Arnie said.

  “Thanks. I’ve got a feeling that if we find out how Luke Frederick died, we’ll be close to finding out how Martin Blake died.”

  Eddie was on the phone, but he pushed the mute button and said, “Harv, line 2.”

  Harvey picked up his desk phone. “Detective Larson.”

  “Please hold for the chief of police.” The adrenaline started pumping. He had a feeling the chief wasn’t calling to ask him what bridal registry Jennifer picked.

  “Larson?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How are things looking on the Blake case?”

  “Progressing, sir.”

  “Can you come to my office for a few minutes, please?”

  “Yes, sir. You want me to brief you personally?”

  “There’s another matter. I’ll expect you.”

  “Yes, sir.” He had already hung up.

  Eddie’s brown eyes were huge, like a Labrador retriever’s.

  “I’ve got to go to the chief’s office,” Harvey told him.

  He had been in Chief Dwight Leavitt’s office twice with Mike. It was on the top floor, in a corner with glass on two sides like their own office, but a floor above, and much more plush than the Priority Unit. Carpet on the floor, thick drapes, pictures on the walls that were real art. The detectives just had maps and wanted posters and a framed display of different caliber cartridges one of the ballistics guys had made years earlier. The chief’s office suite was the penthouse of the police station, and all the men were in awe of it. Most patrolmen had never been on the top floor.

  “Go right in, detective,” the private secretary said gravely, after she buzzed him into the outer office, so he walked slowly to the door of the chief’s sanctum. Even the secretary had art, he noticed. A watercolor of pastel flowers hung behind her desk.

  He knocked, sort of a medium timbre knock, not so soft as to be construed as timid, but not loud enough to be presumptuous.

  “Come in, Larson.”

  Leavitt sat behind a wide federal period desk, one Jefferson would have been proud of. On the gleaming top were a telephone, a brass model T, and a dish of Sugar Babies. Two file folders lay exactly in the middle of the desk. The rest was clear. Harvey didn’t see a computer monitor anywhere in the room. He looked over his shoulder to see what kind of art the chief stared at every day. It was a Turner seascape. A print. At least, Harvey hoped it was a print. The city couldn’t afford art like that if it was real. On the side wall was a print of a big-eyed whitetail doe licking her fawn. The chief was a Bambi lover.

  “Have a seat.” Leavitt held his gaze with serious brown eyes. His hair was dark, but thinning, and a little white showed. He had a mustache, and his fingers were long and thin, like the rest of him.

  “Bring me up to date on the Blake case, please.”

  Harvey told him what they had so far, and that he hoped to come at Blake’s killer through the Frederick case. Leavitt was skeptical.

  “That’s not your jurisdiction, Larson. Have you shared this information with the state police?”

  “Most of it, sir. There was some confusion at first over who was investigating the Frederick case. Now the state police have taken it over.”

  “That’s right. You need to work with them, if you really think this will help with the Blake case. But I’d rather see you concentrate on the Blake matter.”

  “We’re doing everything we can on this end, sir.”

  “Dave Murphy called me this weekend. You think he’s embroiled in this?”

  Harvey wondered if Dave and the chief were pals. “Well, sir, Blake wrote an article Murphy wouldn’t like much, and his editor is planning to publish it. And he lied to me during our first interview. Changed his story later.”

  Leavitt put a Sugar Baby in his mouth and sucked it for a second. “Do you think this story of Blake’s could result in criminal charges?”

  “It might. Murphy will at least be sweating pretty badly the day it comes out. It’s … the editor made me swear it wouldn’t get leaked, sir.”

  Leavitt’s eyes narrowed, and he chewed. “Then make certain it’s not. Keep me apprised of this case. Call me before five this afternoon and let me know how it’s going.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harvey was thankful he hadn’t asked for details on the news article.

  Leavitt picked up a pen and tapped it on the desktop a few times. “Now, this other matter. I know Mike Browning has talked to you about his retirement.”

  “He’s mentioned it a few times. But he’s not retiring yet.”

  “Within a year, he says. He thinks someone should be training to take over, and I agree.” The chief was watching him. Harvey tried not to squirm. “I’ve talked it over with the department heads. I’ll tell you up front, we discussed bringing in someone fresh from outside. Browning disagreed vehemently. He rightly pointed out that the team he’s had for several years has done the city proud. And he says you’re his replacement.”

  “Is it up to him?”

  “Not entirely.” Leavitt tapped the desk with the pen. “Browning has run the Priority Unit since its inception. When he goes, the unit could lose prestige and backing, unless a man with a strong personality steps in.”

  Harvey didn’t think that described him, but he didn’t say so. “If Mike really retires, he’ll be missed badly,” he said.

  “I’ve been watching you for a while, Larson.” Leavitt looked him in the eye and nodded. “You’ve done good work. There was that spy software thing a few weeks ago, and last winter you broke that Internet fraud ring. You’ve built a name for yourself in the computer field.”

  Harvey shrugged. “It’s one of my interests. I’ve had training, and I guess I have aptitude.”

  “Exactly. I hate to take you out of the front line and put you in management, because you’re good.”

  “Mike is very active in field work, sir. I’d expect to do the same if I were in his position.” It struck Harvey as odd that he was arguing in favor of a job he might not want.

  “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you would,” Leavitt said. “It comes down to this, Larson: when you wrap up the Blake case, you’ll be promoted to lieutenant, as a temporary position. You’ll be Browning’s assistant, training as his replacement. It will give you a little rank and authority, and a hundred dollars more a week.”

  Harvey cleared his throat. “Sir, that kind of a raise isn’t necessary. The city budget was tight this year.”

  “True, but I poked around and found where you and your partner confiscated over sixty thousand dollars in drug money during the month of May.” Harvey remembered the case. Under Maine law, the police department got to keep part of any money they took on drug-related cases. “Part of that will go for new equipment downstairs, but I think part of it should go back into the Priority Unit. It will fund your raise. You’ll have the same duties you have now, but Browning will give you some training, too.”

  “Mike’s trained me for eight years, sir. I couldn’t have had a better mentor.”

  “Yes,
but there are administrative duties that you haven’t had to deal with.” Leavitt leaned back in his chair and chewed a Sugar Baby. Harvey wondered if his teeth were real. “I expect you’ll solve the Blake murder soon. The day that happens would be a good time to announce your promotion.”

  Harvey wasn’t sure what to say. What would happen if he never cracked the case and made the arrest? And did he really want a promotion that brought with it hours of boring paperwork? Maybe if Mike got rested and ate enough oat bran, he’d stay on a few more years.

  “What about my spot, sir? Would you bring in a new detective?”

  “Yes, when Browning retires.” Leavitt shifted in his chair and held the pen between his hands. “Actually, the Priority Unit may see some new faces before that. Arnie Fowler wants to retire at the end of the year, and Peter Bearse, I hear, is thinking of bailing out and practicing law. We’ll watch for candidates to fill those vacancies.”

  He was further inside the loop than Harvey had realized. On his way out, he leaned in for a closer look at the seascape. The Turner was definitely a fake. He was glad about that. He liked good art, but he didn’t want their drug money to go for that when they needed new equipment. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to go into his paycheck, either.

  The police chief’s sour-faced secretary showed him out of the suite, and he went down the stairs to his office.

  Eddie greeted him with a frown. “The lab says they don’t know yet if the blood is Blake’s. The DNA test will take a few more days.”

  Arnie came to Harvey’s desk. “I got the optician. He says if we take the glasses to him, he should be able to tell us if they came from him, and if so, whose they are.”

  “All right, you take them over. Eddie, how about those pictures from Fort Point?”

  “I can ask Jennifer to send me hers and make you a slide show of hers and mine together.”

  “Sounds good.” It was after ten o’clock, and Harvey felt he hadn’t accomplished much that morning. His cell phone rang, and he rifled his jacket until he got the right pocket. It was Jennifer.

  “Harvey, Beth just called me. My passport came in the mail at home!”