Fort Point (Maine Justice Book 2)

by Davis, Susan Page

  “Too hot to kiss me?”

  “Never.” His T-shirt was sticky, but she didn’t mind.

  “How are the wedding plans coming?” he asked.

  “Under control, I think. If there’s anything we’ve forgotten, I don’t want to know about it.”

  “Good, because I need some T.L.C. tonight.” He sat down, and she stood behind him and rubbed his neck and shoulders.

  “You’re working too hard,” she said.

  “Not hard enough.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’ve got to break this case before the wedding.”

  She leaned down and kissed the back of his neck. He said, “I can eat, or I can kiss you. Hmm…” He started to turn toward her, but she pulled away laughing and sat down beside him.

  “Hold that thought,” Harvey said. He was hungry, but after a few bites it didn’t seem worth eating anymore. He drank the tea down, and she went to the refrigerator for the pitcher.

  “You’d better just forget about the case for tonight. We’re calling a moratorium on work here.”

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Ice cream.” She went to the freezer for the carton he’d brought.

  Beth came in from the living room. “Ice cream,” she said, in a robot voice.

  Jennifer got bowls and spoons and served it up generously.

  Beth looked at the thermometer. “Eighty-eight outside and 90 in here. Let’s take it out back.”

  Jennifer and Harvey sat on the back steps, and Beth produced a lawn chair. The sun was low over the trees and houses, but it would be light for at least another hour, a perk they got in summer for living so far north.

  “You getting a new roommate?” Harvey asked Beth. He took a bite of mocha chip.

  “Not yet. I haven’t started looking.” She didn’t seem too concerned about it. “When are you moving into the new house?”

  “Probably right after we get back from London. Jeff might move in with me the week before the wedding.”

  “It’s coming right up.”

  “Yup.” He took another bite. “I might be able to move some stuff before then.”

  Jennifer just let them talk, enjoying the ease and comfort of being with them.

  “Is Jeff showing an interest in spiritual things?” Beth asked, and Jennifer’s attention snapped to high level.

  Harvey looked keenly at Beth. “Sometimes I think so, but we haven’t gotten past the superficial yet. Jennifer and I are praying for him.”

  “He’s on my list, too.”

  Jennifer smiled. “Thanks, Beth.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Harvey said. Beth didn’t say anything.

  They sat for half an hour or so, with the sun slipping lower. Jennifer rested her head against Harvey’s shoulder, wishing this evening would never end. But then they’d never get to the wedding. Sweat formed on her forehead, and she sat up to get some air between them.

  “Can we have a lawn swing at the new house?” she asked, feeling a little sleepy.

  “We can have a swimming pool, if you want it,” he said.

  “Too much trouble.”

  “It would sure feel good today,” Beth said.

  Jennifer turned to Harvey. “We’ll have an air conditioner, though, right?” She hadn’t noticed any units in the new house.

  He smiled. “That house has central air.”

  Her eyes flared. “That’s a huge splurge.”

  “Lucky you,” Beth said.

  “You can visit anytime,” Jennifer assured her.

  A tiny breeze drifted past, ruffling Beth’s bangs. Harvey put his arm around Jennifer, but the body heat escalated so fast she leaned forward, out of his embrace and he dropped his arm behind her.

  “We won’t sleep tonight,” she said.

  Beth stood up. “Want more ice cream?”

  Harvey held his bowl up. Jennifer squeezed against him so Beth could walk past them on the steps. He held her there and kissed her, but sweat dripped off his brow. He sighed and let go of her.

  Beth likes Jeff a lot,” said Jennifer.

  They ate all of the ice cream, and the sun went down, but the air was still muggy. Jennifer walked with Harvey to the park, and he kissed her under the big pine trees, then walked her back home holding her hand. They read from the Bible on the back steps, discussed the trip to London, and prayed together.

  “Guess I’d better go,” Harvey said listlessly. They went to kitchen, and he picked up his stuff. Beth was washing up the ice cream bowls.

  “Good night, Beth,” he said.

  “’Night, Harvey.”

  “Maybe tomorrow will be cooler,” Jennifer without much hope. They paused in the living room, in front of one of the fans.

  “I hope so.” He pulled her in close, and she wished he didn’t have to leave. “I love you,” he said, “but I need a shower and some sleep.”

  “Me, too.”

  Harvey’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you just want to come home with me?”

  She knew he was teasing. “Do you have an air conditioner?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Then, in sixteen days.”

  Chapter 14

  Friday, July 2

  The air was slightly cooler at 5:30 a.m., when Harvey met Eddie to run. When they got to the office, the detectives settled in for another day’s work, but a few minutes past eight, the elevator opened and Terry Lemieux got off, accompanying Mayor Jill Weymouth.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, looking around at the four of them.

  They all jumped to attention, and Arnie said, “Good morning, Mrs. Weymouth.”

  “I need your assistance,” she said. “The chief of police was injured in an automobile accident early this morning.”

  They all expressed dismay, and Pete asked what had happened.

  “It seems there was a raccoon on the overpass near exit 5, and he swerved to avoid it.”

  “How bad is it?” Harvey asked.

  “He’s in ICU, still unconscious. They don’t know if he’ll walk again. His wife, Patsy, was injured, too. She’s serious, but not critical. Broken pelvis, some internal bleeding.”

  “For a raccoon,” Eddie said.

  “Well, it’s a tragedy,” the mayor agreed. “I’ve had to make some executive decisions this morning, and one of them is to put Michael Browning upstairs in the chief’s office, but I understand he’s on vacation.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Arnie. “He’ll be gone another week.”

  “Well, we need him now. We’ll compensate him, but we need him. That’s why I’m here. Can you help me locate him? The deputy chief said he’s gone on a camping trip to the Allagash.”

  “That’s right,” said Arnie. “He wanted to get away from it all. He said we couldn’t reach him. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “Nonsense. You’re Portland’s elite. Surely you can find him.”

  Harvey shook his head. “He didn’t give us any specifics, ma’am.”

  Arnie frowned. “Maybe his children could help. There’s Mike, Jr., in Gorham, and their daughter Debbie. What’s her married name? Well, anyway, she’s in Vermont. Then there’s the youngest one, Tommy. He lives up in Somerset County, I think.”

  “Can you get hold of one of them?” she asked. “We need to find the captain as soon as possible.”

  Arnie went over to his desk and pulled down a phone book.

  “Do you want to wait, ma’am?” Harvey asked.

  “No, I’ll be in the deputy chief’s office. There are some things I need to discuss with him.”

  Harvey was curious. She was passing over the deputy chief for Mike. It must have shown on his face. She looked around at him, Eddie, and Pete, and said, “The deputy chief has accepted a position elsewhere. As of the end of this month, he’s the new chief of police in Framingham, Mass. We were planning to announce it Monday. I guess we still will. He’ll act as chief here until we get Browning back.”

  Nobody said anything. Things were happen
ing too fast, and Harvey wondered if she knew about Mike’s planned retirement.

  “You’re Larson.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was glad he’d shaved that morning.

  She looked him up and down, nodding. “You’re in charge of the Blake case?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been tapped to run this unit.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She knew about Mike, all right.

  She stepped toward him. “We’ve got to carry on smoothly. You keep things going here, and as soon as we get Browning back from the woods, we’ll talk. Call me in the deputy’s office if you find out where he is.”

  She turned and walked to the elevator. Terry entered the security code.

  Arnie got Mike Jr.’s twelve-year-old daughter on the phone. Her mother was out, but she gave him her father’s work number. Harvey went over to his desk and sat down slowly.

  Pete said, “Congratulations, Harvey.”

  “Thanks.” He didn’t feel very festive.

  Pete walked away, but Eddie came closer. Harvey looked up at him and said, “I told Jenny the other night I don’t want the promotion.”

  “You don’t want it?” Eddie whispered, his eyes shouting his dismay. He sat down in the extra chair and leaned toward Harvey. “Why would you not want it? You can be the boss here, and Mike will be upstairs.”

  “That might change things, if Mike stays.”

  “Have you prayed about it?”

  Harvey couldn’t believe this was coming out of Eddie’s mouth. “Yeah, I have.”

  “Well, maybe this is your answer.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Ed.”

  *****

  Nate and Tony came up after their roll call. The patrol sergeant had told them about the chief, and both were somber. Harvey sent them to Stroudwater to talk to witnesses again. Arnie was still trying to get a line on Mike and Sharon’s camping trip. Eddie and Pete started in on the messages that had come in overnight.

  Harvey got out the folder of old news clippings and dialed the Oregon number Matt Beaulieu’s sister had given him. A man answered.

  “Commander Beaulieu?”

  “Yes, who is it?”

  Harvey hadn’t really expected him to answer, and he quickly activated the tape recorder.

  “My name is Harvey Larson. I’m a detective with the Portland, Maine, Police Department’s Priority Unit. I’ll be recording our conversation, sir. We’re investigating the death of Martin Blake.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “Probably nothing, but we’ve been trying to talk to all his class members. Are you aware that Blake was stabbed the night after the class reunion?”

  “I read in the Oregonian that he was killed and dumped in the river or something.”

  “That’s right. It happened twelve days ago. We’ve interviewed all the people who attended the class reunion, but now we’re expanding our investigation to include the class members who weren’t there as well.”

  “Why?”

  “I believe that events from the past may have had something to do with the murders of Martin Blake and another man in your class, Luke Frederick.”

  “Luke Frederick’s dead?”

  “Yes, sir, the same day as Martin Blake.” Beaulieu was silent. Harvey said, “Sir, I need to talk to you about the burglary that happened the spring of your senior year, and your friend Philip Whitney.”

  “Phil’s been dead a long time.”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry about that. But he was involved in the burglary, and I need any information you can possibly give me.”

  “How can it help now? Phil wrote it all down in his note.”

  “Not all of it,” Harvey said. “He didn’t tell who was there with him the night they broke into the house and beat the owner.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Who was?”

  Silence. Then, “How do I know you’re really a cop? You could be anybody.”

  “That’s true. I’m at my desk. Do you want to call the Portland P.D. and ask for me?”

  He was quiet.

  “Commander Beaulieu?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Sir, if you know who was involved in that break-in—”

  “Philip talked to me some.”

  “You were best friends in high school,” Harvey said.

  “Yes, but I went into the Navy before he was released from prison. They kept him until the trial. No bail. They were hoping he’d cooperate and name the others. He didn’t. He was loyal the whole time.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told, sir. But he’s dead now. Are you sure his loyalty wasn’t misplaced?”

  “I’ve tried to be true to him, too. He asked me never to tell.”

  “But, Commander, if you had told, perhaps it would have helped him.”

  “Do you think I haven’t thought of that?”

  Easy. Don’t scare him off now. Harvey said, “He did take part in the burglary, sir. We know that.”

  “His lawyer told him to hang tough and he’d walk. And he did.”

  “But he was in Fairley’s house that night.”

  “Yes.”

  Harvey’s pulse picked up. “Did you see him after the burglary?”

  “I went home on leave the next spring, and I found him in Bangor. He told me then he wished he had confessed. Said he’d have felt better. He had a tremendous load of guilt.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried to be there for him, but I only had ten days at home. It wasn’t enough. I got to see him a couple more times.”

  “Why weren’t you with him the night of the burglary?”

  “It was a silly thing. My parents made me go to my sister’s piano recital. I hated it. Philip and I usually spent evenings together if we could.”

  “Did you ever do anything like that?”

  “Like what?” Beaulieu asked.

  “Break into houses. I’m not going to have you arrested or anything. I’m just trying to understand why Philip did what he did that night.”

  “We never did. I think it was the other guys he was with that night. They’d done some things before. Hassled people in the parking lot at the A & P, stolen pumpkins at Halloween, stuff like that. Not felonies or anything, but they liked to see what they could get away with.”

  “So why did they decide to commit burglary that night?”

  “How should I know?” Beaulieu asked. “They were bored, maybe, or needed a bigger thrill. Philip went with them that night. He was daring and bright. He would take risks, but he wasn’t into breaking the law.”

  “What kind of risks did he take?”

  “Oh, things like walking across the railroad bridge. If you got caught out in the middle, the train would get you. Or he’d dive into an old quarry. We weren’t supposed to do that.”

  “Did you know he was going with these other guys?”

  “No. I’d told him I couldn’t get out of Denise’s recital, and he was sympathetic and said he’d see me the next day.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes, he came to school.”

  Harvey looked at the masthead on a clipping and said, “It happened on a Thursday night. You usually went out on Thursdays?”

  “No, but we were usually together at his house or mine. We’d study or just goof off.”

  “Did he tell you why he went with them?”

  “He was outside, and they came by and kind of pulled him into their scheme.”

  “They planned it?”

  “Not specifically, I think. Not that house. They were thinking about going into a house and maybe looking for beer and taking a little cash. Maybe messing things up. They thought it would be funny.”

  “And Philip thought it would be funny?”

  “I don’t know. I think he was apprehensive, but wanted to seem cool. Then they got this kid who had a car.”

  “Who was he?”

  Beaulieu paused. “I’m not sure I should say. Phi
l told me they played up to him, like they were going to be great buddies. Later the kid got scared, and they made fun of him and threatened him.”

  “He told you all this the first time you were home on leave?”

  “Not until later. A lot later. I tried to see Phil every time I went home. It was six or eight years before he told me. I’d been out on deployment six months. I went home to see my folks, and I called Phil and went up to see him. That’s when he told me who it was.”

  “Can’t you tell me, sir? It would help our investigation. The police never arrested anyone but Philip.”

  “I think they had suspicions, but Phil never broke. Not until Blake’s book came out.”

  “Tell me about that,” Harvey said.

  “I went home right after it was published. Everyone was reading it and talking about it and trying to guess who the characters were. I knew. I was very uncomfortable, because Phil had made me swear not to tell. I just played ignorant. The last time I saw him, he was visiting his parents in Portland, and he was very agitated. He told me he was going to confess and take the consequences. He said he’d rather spend the rest of his life in prison than live with it.”

  Harvey looked down at the photocopied clippings. “But in the end, he opted for suicide over the state prison?”

  “That’s always bothered me.”

  “What? The suicide?”

  “Yes,” Beaulieu said. “I saw him the day before he did it. He told me he’d talked to the other kids.”

  “The three from the burglary?”

  He hesitated. “He said they were scared. They begged him not to tell. They made other threats, too, and Phil never told, even in the suicide note. If it was a suicide note.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Beaulieu exhaled heavily. “He told me that one of the guys had said, ‘Go ahead, spill your guts if you want to. But don’t name us. Write it all down, and give it to the police, but if you tell on us, we’ll kill you.’”

  “But he killed himself,” Harvey said. “Why didn’t he tell on them if he was going to kill himself?”

  “My question exactly. I don’t think he meant to kill himself.”

  Harvey wished he could see his face. “Commander, what are you implying?”