by Curry, Edna
She sighed and grabbed a notepad and began writing a list of names. “How far back do you want me to go?”
“Since we found John will do for starters.”
“Okay. I think that’s all of them.” She handed him the list. “I can get their addresses and phone numbers if you need them.”
“That would be good.”
She sighed and held out her hand for the notepad, then took it to her desk and dug through her files for the information and wrote it beside each name, then handed it back to him. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree this time, Chance.”
“Let me decide that. Maybe you’re right, but, damn it, I have to do something. What if they’d hit you tonight? I’d never forgive myself for being right there and not being able to protect you.”
“I’m just as scared by the idea he could have hit you. I worry about you.”
“I know. But it’s part of my job.” He hugged her and kissed his way down her throat, feeling her shiver. “I know you don’t like it, Cassie, but I’m going to start carrying my gun all the time, date or not.”
She swallowed, then nodded.
He kissed her again. “And I’m spending every night here with you until we catch this guy.”
Chapter 9
A couple of nights later, we were again cuddling and watching a movie when Chance’s phone rang. He talked for a bit, then said, “Did you call the medical examiner?....Good….Treat it as a crime scene until we know different. I’ll be out there in a few minutes.” He hung up and rose to his feet, turning to me. “Guess our movie will have to wait. Sorry, I have to go.”
“What’s up?” I asked, setting aside the bowl of popcorn we’d been sharing and standing to hug him goodbye. I was used to our evenings being interrupted by the phone, though the call was as often for me as for him. Lockouts and car accidents happened at any time of day or night and having jobs with similar interruptions made both of us tolerant of the other’s duty calls.
“The gardener at the Bale’s house has been found dead in his cottage.”
“Oh, oh. What a coincidence,” I said sarcastically.
“Yeah,” Chance said, giving me a quick kiss. “My thoughts exactly. See you tomorrow, maybe?”
“Okay,” I agreed, kissing him back.
“I’ll call you.” He threw on his jacket and left.
I locked the door after him and settled down to watch the movie alone, but couldn’t concentrate on the screen in front of me. Instead, my mind kept swirling with the events around our little town. What was going on here, anyway? Another death connected to John? Or was it?
I knew Chance didn’t believe in coincidences either and would check this out very carefully.
***
When Chance arrived at the Bales’ house, he parked and strode around their house to the backyard where he remembered the gardener’s cottage stood. Deputy Fred was stringing crime scene tape around the fence that bordered it. Ben’s car was parked nearby.
Melanie Bales stood watching Fred work, tears running down her cheeks. Chance stopped and asked, “Who found him?”
“I did,” Melanie said, turning to him. “Oh, Detective, it’s so awful! He’s laying in bed, all cold and staring.” She sobbed and raised a hand to wipe her face.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Carl had the day off and often uses it to catch up on sleep, so I didn’t think anything of it when he didn’t leave today.”
“He usually goes somewhere?”
“Sure. Like grocery shopping or to a bar or movie or something.”
“When did you last see him?”
She shrugged and chewed her lip, then said, “I guess about seven last night, when he finished mowing the lawn.”
The medical examiner’s van arrived and Chance waved him back to the small house. Another car with several guys from the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension followed and parked beside the M. E. They all disappeared inside.
Melanie frowned. “Why do you have all these people here? He probably just had another heart attack.”
Chance nodded. “That may be, Mrs. Bales, but we need to be sure. The M. E. will decide the cause of death after he does an autopsy.”
“An autopsy?” Lou asked, appearing beside them. “What’s going on here? Do you do an autopsy every time someone dies now?”
Chance turned and eyed the banker, still dressed in his blue work suit. “When a man dies under suspicious circumstances, yes.”
Lou frowned. “What suspicious circumstances?”
“He’s connected to John’s murder case.”
“John’s? How is he connected?”
“Through working for you, John’s partner,” Chance said.
“That’s ridiculous. By that logic, half the town is related to someone who works at the bank,” Lou sputtered.
“That may be,” Chance said. “Where were both of you during the last twenty-four hours?”
Lou’s jaw dropped, but before he could object to that question, Melanie put a restraining hand on his arm. He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll answer.”
Melanie put in, “We were both home last night. I’ve been right here all day, baking and doing housework. I’m getting ready for a ladies’ garden club meeting day after tomorrow.”
She turned to Lou. “That’s why I went to his cottage. I needed to talk to him about the flowers for the tables. He didn’t answer the door, but his car was here, so I got worried and used my key to get in. And found h-him, there in h-his bed,” she wailed. “So I called 9-1-1, but I knew he was d-dead.”
Lou hugged her to him and she buried her face against his chest.
“And you?” Chance asked Lou.
He sighed. “I’ve been at the bank all day. Went to a friend’s house for a card game after work tonight. We ordered takeout sandwiches for our dinner. Melanie called me there and I came right home.”
“Was anyone here today? Or did you see anyone visit Carl last night?”
“No. But I don’t always pay attention. We had the ballgame on TV last night, so I really didn’t notice whether he had company or not,” Lou said.
“I fell asleep on the sofa during the game. I’m afraid I didn’t notice, either,” Melanie said.
“Okay, thanks.”
Chance entered the cottage to check out the scene, careful not to touch anything or interfere with the others doing their jobs. The cottage was a typical bachelor’s quarters. Sparse, inexpensive furniture, basic and masculine, not very neat. Dust on shelves, dirty dishes in the sink.
The BCA guys were snapping pictures and dusting for fingerprints. With gloved hands, they put the almost empty bottle of red wine from the refrigerator and Carl’s prescription bottles lining the kitchen counter into plastic bags, carefully labeling them. They also bagged the glass Carl had been drinking from that was still on the table with the partially eaten pizza.
Chance stared at the evidence bags with prescription bottles in them, and read the labels through the plastic. All had Carl Tarren’s name and current dates. Chance wrote down his doctor’s name and the drugstore, then made a note to call them both for information.
One of the guys called from Carl’s bedroom, “Hey, look what I found.”
Chance and Ben went to see. The BCA guy held up a pistol.
“Where was it?” Ben asked.
“Under the mattress, down here at the foot.”
“It’s a .38, so the right caliber. Check it out to see if it matches the bullets we got from John’s body,” Chance directed.
“Do you think we’ve solved that case, then?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know,” Chance said. “Seems just a little too convenient to me.”
“Maybe so,” Ben agreed, his long fingers scratching his head.
They sent everything to the lab to be analyzed. Chance knew the lab was always backed up, but asked for a rush job, anyway, hoping they’d do it for once.
Hours later, after the M. E. had taken the body and the BCA guys ha
d left with their evidence bags, Chance went back to his apartment and tried to get some sleep, but lay there awake.
How was all this connected? Or was it? He hoped they’d get the ballistics report fast. That might tell them if Carl had killed John. But why would he? Plenty of others had better motives than he did. What if Carl hadn’t done it and the real killer had planted the gun to blame him? His gut told Chance that was the more likely scenario.
He tossed and turned. He had to get that bad loans list from the bank. Some things weren’t adding up here.
***
Two days later, Chance sat talking to Ben is his office. As usual, the sheriff had his long legs up on his desk and chewed a glazed donut from the local bakery. His other hand held a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
Chance also ate a glazed donut. “Can you make sense of the M. E.’s report?” he groused. “I can’t believe Carl died of an ordinary heart attack. It’s too damned much of a coincidence.”
“Yeah, and I know you don’t like coincidences,” the sheriff replied. “Neither do I, as a rule. But sometimes, they do happen. Things aren’t always connected just because they look like they are.”
“I suppose, but I don’t like it. I think we need to dig deeper.”
“Like it or not, that’s what the M. E.’s official report says. Dig all you want. Can’t hurt, I guess. What did his doctor have to say?”
Chance shrugged. “He was no help. Said Carl had a heart attack about six months ago. Had a couple of stents put in and did some physical therapy for a couple of months. No problems since.”
“So that fits in with him having another heart attack, doesn’t it?” Ben asked.
“I suppose. But…what about that gun? I want to know what the lab has to say.”
“True. That’s worrisome. But the gun was registered to Carl.”
“Damn. Then if it is the gun that killed John, either Carl did it or someone would have had to use his gun to do it, then put it back in Carl’s house.”
Ben laughed. “That would be pretty far-fetched, don’t you think?”
Chance sighed. “Yeah. What about those smelly sheets the BCA guys took? I could swear he’d had more than one bout of sex on them.”
Ben rubbed his long fingers through his hair. “Yeah, looked like that to me, too. Probably had a woman or two since he’d last washed them. His whole house was messy. Could have been a week’s worth of cum on those sheets, alone or with someone.”
“I suppose.”
“You know, more than one guy has died in the middle of having sex. It’s been known to bring on a heart attack or two.”
“True. But then, the woman usually calls 9-1-1 at the time. Nobody did,” Chance said.
“Unless she panicked and didn’t want anyone to know she’d been there. Like she was married or something.” Ben got up and poured himself more coffee.
“True. And Carl did tell me he’d participated in those sex parties at the Bale’s house. Melanie told me that he was there, even hinted she’d had Carl. Maybe he carried on with her in his cottage, too.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet,” Ben agreed.
“Is Roy Lonn still in jail?”
“For today, but then I have to turn him loose. I’ll warn him he’ll be right back there if he violates Irene’s restraining order.”
“Well, he couldn’t have had anything to do with Carl’s death, then. Roy was a party-goer, too. And with his temper, he’d be a good candidate for violence.”
Chance sighed, rose and stretched. “Well, best I get back to my computer. I’m still trying to track down Melanie’s so-called inheritance.”
“Maybe those women’s doubts are only jealousy. She acts kind of uppity, you know. That puts a lot of women’s hackles up.”
“True. But where there’s a lot of smoke, there’s often a fire, Ben. I don’t know, I’ve just got a bad feeling about it. It’s worth looking into.”
“Go ahead, then. I’ve found my gut feelings are often right.” He laughed. “Women call it their intuition, you know. We give it a different name, is all.”
Chance laughed and threw away his Styrofoam cup. “I hope my gut is right, this time.”
“Did you get a chance to check out those bad loans yet?”
“Not yet. I’ll get at those today, too.”
***
A couple days later, Chance was in the shower and I was almost ready for bed when my cell phone rang. “Cassie the locksmith,” I answered as usual.
“Hi. This is Melanie Bales. Could you rekey my folks’ cabin tomorrow morning?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“Up on the St. Croix river, along highway 16, just past the ski resort.”
“Okay. The address?”
Melanie gave me the address and agreed to meet me there at ten the next morning. She gave me her home and cell phone numbers and hung up.
A few minutes later, Chance stepped out of the bathroom in only a towel. I stared, swallowed hard and met his teasing gaze.
“Come here,” he said, and I went to him. He pulled me into the bedroom and began undressing me. I untied his towel and dropped it and didn’t think of anything else for the rest of the night.
Chapter 10
The next morning, at 5 a.m., I got a call to unlock a car. A man had left his only set of keys in the car the night before. I laughed. Why do people spend thousands on a car, but refuse to spend anything on extra sets of keys?
Chance barely woke as I talked on the phone. I threw on the clothes I’d worn the day before, kissed him goodbye and drove off in my van.
As I drove up beside his almost new car and climbed out, the man began stewing about having to get to Minneapolis. We discussed my fees and I got out my tools and started working.
“I’m gonna be late to work,” he grumbled. “Don’t know how I didn’t notice last night that I didn’t have my keys.”
I grinned as I worked my tools on his door. “How’d you get in your house without them?”
He grunted, running a big hand through his dark blonde hair. “Used the garage door opener and went inside through the connecting side door. Left my car outside ’cause I was planning to go to a Lion’s Club meeting after supper. Then I fell asleep watching TV instead.”
The car’s alarm started blaring as I succeeded in opening the door.
He jumped in and grabbed the keys. “Yikes, all the neighbors will be cussing at me. It’s too early in the morning for this shit.” He jammed the key into the door lock to stop the alarm, then got out his checkbook to pay me. “Thanks for coming so early in the morning,” he said as he wrote the check.
“No problem.” I collected my tools, stowed them into my van and accepted his payment. He called his thanks again as he sped off. I got into my van and followed.
As I drove through Landers on my way home, I noticed the Flame Restaurant was already open. I pulled to the curb. They always had fresh glazed doughnuts from the bakery and I was starved, besides badly needing a caffeine fix. Since it was almost seven-thirty now, I knew Chance would have already left for work by the time I got home.
I grabbed an empty stool at the counter and ordered coffee and a doughnut. Several older men were already there, enjoying their morning coffee and catching up on the local gossip.
Old Earl, as everyone called him, sat in a nearby booth and nodded at me.
“What-cha doing out so early, Cassie? Some drunk lock himself out of his house again?” He guffawed at his own joke, showing his lack of several teeth.
“Almost right.” I grinned back at him. “A car this time, though.”
“Huh. Another guy had a problem out on highway 16 this morning. He was thumbing a ride as I came into town. Said his car died on him. I gave him a ride home.”
I frowned at him. “Earl, you need to be careful about hitchhikers. You might get in trouble. Never know who they are with all the tourists around this time of year.”
“Oh, I know that, Missy. No need to preach at me. I
’m always careful, but I knew this guy. A banker fella from Canton.”
“Oh, that’s different. Sorry.”
“’S okay. It’s nice that a pretty thing like you cares about an old buck like me.”
I blushed at his compliment. “Of course I care. I care about all the people I know.”
***
Later that morning, Chance went to his office and decided to give the M. E. a call. After the usual small talk, he asked, “Could anything special have brought on Carl’s heart attack?”
“That’s impossible to know. You haven’t found anyone who was with him shortly before he died, have you?”
“No. But you can tell something anyway, can’t you?” Chance asked, frustrated.
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“What did he have to eat or drink and how long before he died?”
“His last meal was a sausage pizza and red wine, not long before he died, probably only a few minutes. Didn’t you read my report?”
“Sure, but could some medication have caused the heart attack?”
“He’d taken his prescriptions, probably along with the pizza. You have them listed there in my report.”
“Could a heart attack be brought on by too much of any of those meds?” Chance repeated. “Say he forgot and took them twice? Or somebody gave him too much on purpose?”
“Well, sure. A lot of medicines are that way. The prescribed amount does you good, but too much does the opposite. But you can guess forever. That won’t prove anything.”
“Okay, thanks,” Chance said and hung up.
Chance turned back to his computer and spent hours going over the bad loans list. They were mostly to corporations and all except a couple of loans were for building homes for resale. The corporate names meant nothing to Chance. He asked Ben, who didn’t recognize them either.
Ben speculated, “Maybe these corporations were formed recently just for the purpose of building those houses. And since only a couple have been sold, the builders have gone on to other projects.”
“Could be. None of the names associated with the corporations mean anything to me either. Must be newcomers to our area.”
