by Curry, Edna
Patti shrugged. “I think Agnes did her own taxes. She was pretty good at stuff like that.”
I finished my coffee and said, “I have to get back to work. See you all at the funeral tomorrow then.”
“Sure thing,” Patti said.
The men nodded at me and Lulu gave me a little smile. I strode out. Out of sight from inside, I quickly noted the license number of the car Corey had driven. Then, as I started down the sidewalk, Sheriff Ben parked at the curb beside me and climbed out of his car.
“Hi, Ben,” I said, pausing. “Anything new on Agnes?”
He stopped beside me, reached out and playfully pulled a lock of my hair. “You know I’m not supposed to tell you anything, Lacey girl.”
“And you know the whole town knows everything before you do half the time,” I returned, pushing his big hand aside. “So tell me what I’ll hear by the grapevine later. How did Agnes die? Did she drown as everyone says?”
“Yes, but she took a bullet before she went into the water.”
My gut tightened in dismay. “A bullet? She was shot too, not just one of her tires? ”
“Yeah. I think somebody pushed her car into the lake after they killed her. Maybe robbed her, too.”
I eyed him sharply. “Robbed? Is anything missing? Like her purse?”
“Yeah. And her cell phone. They could still be in the lake, of course. But the bottom is pretty muddy so we didn’t find them. Nobody who was there before us admits to having seen them either.”
“But why would they bother to push the car in the lake if they’d shot her?” I wondered out loud.
“Probably to give them time to get away before anyone knew about it,” Ben said. “She may have been there for a couple of days before that fisherman saw her car under the water.”
My stomach churned and I shuddered. She was in the lake when we’d been searching her house? “Oh. Of course. That makes sense. And by then, whoever it was that did it, had time to stage an alibi for himself.”
“Or herself,” Ben said grimly, frowning at me. “Is Patti in here? I see her car.” He nodded to the blue Honda parked down the street a bit. “I need to talk to her.”
Yikes, he still suspects Patti. Did he know something he wasn’t telling me? Ben often told me only what he wanted me to know. I sighed and admitted, “Yes, she and her Uncle Arnold and his girlfriend and Patti’s brother, Corey, are in the dining room.”
“Good. I’ll catch them all together then.”
I turned to go, then thought of something else and turned back to him. “Have you finished at Agnes’ house?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, we’re done there.”
“Good. You might want to tell Patti that.”
“I will. See you later.” Ben turned and strode into the restaurant and I went on to my car. I wondered what the sheriff would think of the surly brother, uncle and girlfriend.
***
I hoped Patti would call me later. I wondered what she really thought about Corey’s insistence that Agnes had lots of money. Maybe now that the sheriff was done with Agnes’ house, we could go back to look for more details of what she’d been doing or thinking in the last few days before she died. I had the feeling we’d missed something important.
Why had Agnes been killed? Everyone I’d talked to seemed to like and admire her. Who had hated her enough to shoot her? Arnold and Corey seemed to dislike her, but had been in California at the time she died, so had a good alibi. Or didn’t they?
And why had Agnes cancelled some of her appointments, but hadn’t called Patti to tell her she wouldn’t be able to meet her? If she’d emailed the women in Landers, why not Patti? Something smelled fishy here.
I drove home and parked in front of my house. I could hear Scamp barking as I went to the door. He sounded furious. What in the world was up with him?
Then I saw it: a large, dead rat lay on the rubber welcome doormat. Ugh! If I hadn’t looked down, I’d have stepped on it. I looked around, but saw no one. I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture of it, then called Sheriff Ben and told him about it, sending him a picture of it. He said he’d have Deputy Tom stop by and see if he could get any evidence. I grimaced, but agreed and hung up. I’m not fond of Deputy Tom, nor is he fond of me. He’s a male chauvinist of the worst sort and contemptuous of any female doing what he considers a man’s job. But I understood that Ben was busy with Patti and her relatives right now.
I unlocked the door and allowed Scamp to go for a run, ordering him to stay away from the rat that had obviously upset him already. He’d probably heard the vehicle of the person who brought it, or heard or smelled them at the door when they left the animal.
Scamp obeyed me when I said, “No,” when he sniffed the dead rat, then went for his run along the lake shore. I got my mail from my mailbox while I waited for him to return, then took him inside. Just inside the door, I found a note that had been slipped under the door. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a plastic baggie and enclosed the note before attempting to read it. Maybe we’d get lucky and find some fingerprints. That was a long shot, of course. Everyone watches TV programs nowadays, so they know not to leave fingerprints. In cut out newspaper headline letters, the note said, “Keep your nose out of this case or you’ll be sorry!”
I frowned. Who would want me to stay out of this case?
Just then, Deputy Tom drove up in his official car, stopping with a squeal of brakes and stirring up a cloud of dust. Tall and lean, he hopped out and came toward me. Tipping his head in an arrogant pose, he snorted, “What’s your big problem with a dead animal? Scared you poor little female, huh?”
I scowled at him through the open door. He stepped close and laughed at the rat on the mat. “Big deal. Didn’t you ever see a dead rat before, Lacey?”
“Not one put there especially as a warning to me,” I said sarcastically, holding out the note to him. “Or is this note from you, Tom? It sounds like something you would say.”
He frowned at that and took the bagged note, read it through the plastic and then blustered, “Huh. Of course I didn’t leave this for you. If I want to say something to you, I just say it to your face. I don’t hide behind a cowardly note.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenged, my frustration jumping out in my sarcastic answer.
“Yeah,” he returned with a scowl.
“Then Ben won’t find your fingerprints on that note?”
“Hell, no, he won’t. Probably won’t find anybody’s,” Tom said with another snort. He stepped back and took pictures of the rat.
“Yeah, that’s my guess, too,” I said, calmer now. I retreated inside, ready to close the door. “Well, I’ll be in my office, if you need to ask me anything else.”
“Okay. I’ll get rid of this rat and check around for any other evidence,” Tom said, more contrite now. “Do you want me to check the inside of the house to make sure no one is still here?”
I shook my head. “No. Scamp was inside and is fine, so I’m sure no one got in. He’d have attacked anyone who got in.”
“Okay.”
I closed the door, happy to be done with him. We’d never gotten along, but today he gave me the creeps. Would he really have gone so far as to leave me that rat and note? His denial sounded sincere.
I made some hot tea to calm my nerves and settled down to check my email and catch up on various jobs I should be working on. I heard Tom’s vehicle start up and leave. I doubted the perp had left any evidence for him to find. But since Tom’s not the sharpest pin around, it wasn’t likely he’d have found it anyway.
Two hours later, a note popped up on my computer screen, saying I had more email. I opened it to see a photo of me standing beside Chisago Lake watching them pull Agnes’ car out. Had Patti sent it? But, no, she’d been standing beside me, so she couldn’t have taken that picture. No return address, just some unintelligible letters as the sender. Then another email from the same address. This one just said, “You’re next, bitch!”
A chill
raced down my spine. Somebody really didn’t want me to solve this case. But who?
I forwarded both to Sheriff Ben. A few minutes later, he phoned.
“Lacey, I sure wish you’d get off this case. Let me handle it.”
“Ben, don’t you see? That’s just what the killer wants me to do. Don’t you think that means he’s afraid I’m getting close to the answer?”
“Or she,” Ben growled. “What if you’re playing right into their hands? You might be my next case. I’d just never forgive myself if that happened, Lacey girl. I promised your Uncle Henry I’d look after you.”
I snapped, “Don’t pull that guilt trip on me, Ben. My mother does that often enough. I don’t need another mommy.”
Ben sighed. I imagined him running his long fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture as he always did when I crossed him. “I just want to keep you safe.”
“I know, Ben,” I said, calmer now. “And I do appreciate your concern. But I can’t let you choose my job or my cases for me. I have a right to live my own life.”
“Okay,” Ben sighed. “Have it your way. But please, be careful.”
“I will.” I had barely hung up when my cell rang.
“Hello?”
Patti’s voice came over the air to me. “The sheriff says he’s done at Agnes’ house. Do you want to go over there and see if we can find anything else?”
“I doubt Ben overlooked anything useful,” I said. “But sure, I can do that. Now?”
“Yes, now is fine. I’ll meet you there.” She hung up.
I drove over to Agnes’ house. To my surprise, Agnes’ red Acura sat in the driveway. Obviously, the sheriff had finished going over it and had returned it.
I got out and went over to it. I was happy to find it unlocked and did my own search, not really expecting to find much after the sheriff and his boys had gone through it. The inside was still damp and smell like lake water and mildew. Ugh. What a shame for a beautiful car to end up ruined like this. I wondered if it could be cleaned.
I found a fresh oil change sticker on the windshield and remembered seeing an appointment for an oil change in Agnes’ calendar. I made a note of the odometer reading on the sticker and also the current one. Hm. Interesting.
Patti’s blue Honda Accord pulled into the drive beside me. “Oh, they’ve returned the Acura,” she said. “That was fast. I told them to replace the tire. I suppose I should have it cleaned as well, so it doesn’t mold,” she said, as we walked to the door. “Come on in. I want to go through stuff before Corey and Arnold get their paws on things.”
We stepped inside and she closed the door behind us. “But shouldn’t you all be waiting for the will to be read before you take anything out of the house?” I asked. “I mean, you don’t know who she left what to yet, do you?”
“Oh, I don’t want to take anything. I just want to look for information, like maybe a later will than the one Rolly said she made with them years ago. Or where all her bank statements are and if she had a safety deposit box. That kind of thing.”
“All right. But wouldn’t that all be in her will?”
Patti shook her head. “Rolly said she didn’t detail anything. Just a few gifts to charity. Otherwise, she just said she was leaving everything to someone, but he wouldn’t tell me who she left it to. I can’t believe she would do that. So there must be a later will.”
“So you think she may have left you out of her will?”
Patti shoved her long blond hair back behind her ear. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. After all, she helped me and Corey a lot already. We shouldn’t expect anything more. But it just seems so odd. So I want to see if I can find any more information.” She led the way back to Agnes’ office, where she opened a file cabinet and took out numerous files and spread them on the desk. The computer was missing from the desk.
“Sheriff Ben took her computer?”
“Yeah. He said they needed more time to go through it.”
“But he said it was okay for you to come back here?”
“Sure. He sounded like he expected me and Corey to be staying here. Corey did want to stay here, but I don’t trust him not to rip off anything he could get away with, so I told him no. I even offered to loan him motel money if he needed it. That made him mad and he said he didn’t need my charity.” She paused and then added, “I think the sheriff still thinks I killed Agnes for her money.”
I glanced at her face, to see if she was serious. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, that I couldn’t believe she wasn’t upset. “Being a murder suspect doesn’t bother you?”
Patti laughed. “No. Well, yes it does. But I know I didn’t do it and I don’t even know how to shoot a gun, much less own one. So how could he prove I shot her?”
“What about Corey? Or Arnold and Lulu?” I still needed to get more information on those people. I didn’t trust any of them. I picked up the nearest file of insurance papers and flipped through them. Car insurance on her red Acura. Homeowner’s insurance on this house. Various trip insurance policies she’d apparently taken out before going on cruises.
Patti gaped at me. “Corey? And Arnold and Lulu? But they were in California.”
I shrugged. “So they said. We haven’t proved it yet. Do they know how to shoot? Or own guns?”
“Well, sure. I mean, what Minnesota man doesn’t have a pistol or a rifle? We’re a hunting crazy state, aren’t we? Deer, bear, wolves and wild turkeys everywhere. Kids can even get out of school to go deer hunting with their dads. Even some girls.”
“True.” Had she? Was she lying about not knowing about guns? I still didn’t know why Agnes was killed. I had the feeling that was the missing key. If I knew why someone wanted her dead, I might also know who.
I turned back to going through the file cabinet. Agnes had an enormous amount of research on various companies. “My, you guys really took this stock market game seriously, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I got a bit bored with it, and Agnes would prompt me with so many emailed questions that I’d feel guilty if I didn’t look up the answers.”
Patti sent me a wry grin and added sadly, “I think maybe she was lonely, and that was one way of connecting with me. She was a very private person herself, so she respected others’ privacy, too. She didn’t want to pry into my dating life, so talking about personal stuff was out. But stocks were a safe subject. Nothing personal about them at all, you know.”
“Sure,” I said, glancing at the chart on Agnes’ office wall. “Do you keep a wall chart like this, too?”
Patti nodded, an embarrassed blush spreading over her light complexion. “Agnes made me a similar one and sent it to me. I keep it updated.” She sighed and looked at the chart. “I guess nothing’s been done on either of them since last Friday. It doesn’t feel right, somehow, to keep up the game when she’s not here to join in.”
“I suppose not.”
She turned back to the file she’d just opened. “Here’s something odd,” she said in a choked voice.
“What did you find?” I moved closer to read over her shoulder. Tears ran down her cheeks as she read. She held a bunch of newspaper clippings. Uh-oh. They were about her grandfather’s suicide.
“Agnes must have collected all of these at the time and saved them,” Patti said, sniffing and reaching for a tissue from a box on the desk. “I’d have thought she’d want to put them away and forget that tragedy.” She passed the file to me, wiped her eyes and moved on to the next file.
From past experience, I knew that the events of the past often affect the present. So I sank into a chair and began looking through the clippings. Apparently, there was doubt at the time, that Roscoe had hung himself. One reporter asked why a successful lawyer would kill himself, leaving his partner to inherit much of his wealth? He’d apparently only left a trust fund and his personal life insurance to Agnes and Arnold. Harold Billings had claimed Roscoe’s half of their partnership because of a mutual agreement they’d set up in their part
nership.
This news raised a red flag for me. I asked Patti about it, but she just shrugged.
“Agnes said Harold Billings told her their business was in poor shape, so there was very little to inherit,” Patti said. “I always thought it sounded fishy, but then Harold closed the big Minneapolis office down and came out here to open a small town office, so we all decided he must be telling the truth. I think Harold started showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s before they came here. So then Rolly took over completely. Rolly hired a home care person so he can remain at home, or he’d be in a nursing home already.”
I nodded, remembering how Harold had been at the Chamber meeting the other night. I turned back to see what else was in the file. They were financial reports from several years before Roscoe’s death. All showed a very healthy business. What the hell? And all were only copies, not originals. Cold chills slid over me. Something was very fishy here.
I glanced at Patti, who was bent over, digging in the bottom drawer to get out more files. “I’d like to read these when I have more time. Do you mind if I take the file home with me?”
Patti shrugged. “Sure, take it.”
I slipped the whole file into my briefcase and closed it, then picked up the next file from the desk to look at it.
Had Patti seen those financial reports? But if she had, why would she hand the file to me and allow me to read them? And hadn’t the sheriff seen them? If so, why hadn’t he taken them? He must have missed them.
I needed more time to sort this out and at the moment, I had no idea who to trust.
Chapter 8
We had finished in the office and were searching through Agnes’ bedroom closet when a vacuum cleaner roared in the living room. We both raced out to see who was there.
Agnes’ tall, thin maid was pushing the floor vacuum across the carpet. Her dark hair was tied back in a multicolored scarf. “Millie,” we both exclaimed.
The noise would have prevented her from hearing us, but by then we’d come into her field of vision. She stared at us, stopped vacuuming and shut off the motor. “Hello,” she said. “I saw your cars outside. It’s my regular day to clean here.”
