A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  “I thought Elaine recovered.”

  “Oh sure. Except for that eye. But she left to go to school and just kept going, so she did okay. Her mom decided she’d rather leave too.”

  “Where did Elaine go?”

  “I think she went to school in Albany.”

  Vanessa resolved to be patient. She tried again. “And that’s where she still lives?”

  “Oh no. She worked with Marly on that technical company. It turns out the two of them were working out of the library on that so that they could get onto the Net. And when that got bought Elaine moved someplace else.”

  “California?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yeah. Don’t know where exactly.”

  Jack cleared his throat.

  “Who’s Marly?” Vanessa asked.

  “Oh. Marly. Marlene Shaw.”

  Jack leaned forward from the backseat. “I don’t suppose she’s a Harris, is she?”

  Paul wagged his head back and forth. “Well, kinda. She is some sort of Harris but not real close, you know. Her father was Beanie Shaw. He wasn’t a Harris. His real name was Bernard, but we called him Beanie. Me and him were in the same grade. Beanie took off at some point at least twenty years ago, maybe longer.”

  “Did anyone investigate?” Vanessa asked.

  “I doubt it was ever reported, you know. Not too long after, Denise took up with Del Harris, Zeke’s son. Chip talked about them yesterday. They didn’t get married or anything. They were cousins. Denise said that Beanie had gone to Oregon.”

  “Oregon,” Jack said. “Nice place.”

  “Yeah. So I hear. I’d like to go there sometime. Anyway, Del died. Chip told you about that. A little after, Denise hooked up with Elliot Harris, Vernon’s son. Now him she married, cousins or not. So I guess you could say that Marly was a Harris cousin and a Harris by stepfathers.”

  “And does Marly still live here?” Vanessa asked.

  “Nah. She went to college too. Someplace fancy in New England. They’ve all pretty much left. Her mother, Denise, still lives here. Marly paid to fix up her house real nice with the technical money. That place was a dump. Elliot died all of sudden four years ago. Cancer in his belly.”

  Vanessa wished she had recorded the conversation and made a note to revisit the diagram from Chip’s whiteboard. All she could track was that everyone was related to everyone else.

  The land dropped away in front of them, revealing the steep decline into a valley with a matching hillside several miles away. Both Vanessa and Jack gasped. Paul navigated the hairpin turns down the hill and they slipped and slid into the village of Charon Springs.

  Perhaps it was just the clean white of the snow, but Charon Springs looked like a nice place to Vanessa. Paul hung a left and they drove by a church, a bar, a small country store, a liquor store, and two buildings under construction on the opposite side, with nice old houses in between.

  “Looks kind of quaint,” Vanessa said.

  “Yup. We’re undergoing some Marlyfication. They’re doing a lot of work on the library there, adding a wing, and that’s the new health clinic.”

  “Did you say modification?” asked Jack.

  Paul chuckled, pleased with himself. “Marlyfication. As in Marly Shaw. When her company got bought, she did pretty good and I guess that paid some of the college. She and Elaine did another one and that did real good too. Marly gave some money and paid for some of this stuff. I guess she felt she owed something to the library. And of course everyone wanted some sort of medical clinic here. Now they’ll have a doctor down here once or twice a week and a nurse most days. There’s free wireless going in and they’ll have real cell phone coverage soon. Chip wishes that she would help Avalon a little too.”

  Two miles out of the Springs, the hills flattened out to reveal a broad valley. Paul pulled off the road onto a well-plowed single-lane driveway that followed a break of trees and an old stone wall. The road ended in front of a large pale yellow farmhouse with an attached barn and a spectacular view over the valley. Two additional barns, one small, one large, sat on the opposite side of the yard.

  Jack started to open his door, but Paul turned in his seat and spoke up, his voice sharp. “No, no. Don’t do that. Just sit here. He’ll let us know when to come in.”

  The side door swung open and a tall, barrel-chested man with a full head of white hair stepped out onto the deck and motioned to them.

  Following Paul’s lead, Vanessa and Jack shed their boots and coats in what looked like a big closet, which Paul referred to as the mudroom. From there, they passed through the door into an open-plan kitchen and sitting area. Carl was adding logs to a wood stove.

  Carl looked like a shaved polar bear, Vanessa decided. Sort of like Santa Claus without a beard.

  Carl turned and shook each of their hands. Vanessa noticed that Paul had developed a small bead of sweat on his upper lip.

  “Have a seat. I suppose you Californians aren’t used to this kind of cold.”

  He turned, sat down in a large club chair, and offered them two smaller chairs on the other side of the stove. Paul shuffled his feet and slipped onto a small couch facing the other three.

  “What do you think of Central New York?” Carl asked. His tone was amiable. His eyes were hard to read. Santa Claus with a secret life.

  “This is a beautiful house, Mr. Harris,” Vanessa said. “It would be worth millions out where we live.”

  “Yes, of course. But this is not California. So you’ve found Louise and Troy.”

  “That’s right,” Jack said. “Some bones were found in a creek bed by a hiker in the Santa Cruz Mountains. They were traced back to the base of a cliff where we found some more. We identified the remains as Louise and Troy using DNA from CODIS. That’s the centralized FBI database that tracks forensic data of convicted felons.”

  “Interesting to see that technology pay off. How did they die?”

  “That’s not clear,” Vanessa said. She watched Carl’s face closely for signs of emotion. “There had been too much trauma and disruption and the time frame isn’t very accurate. We’re assuming that they fell from the cliff, but we’re not sure if they were dead when they went over or not. It would not appear that they died as the result of an accident. There were no traces of clothing or jewelry and no sign of a car or vehicle up on top.”

  She stopped and waited to see how Carl would respond, but he continued to regard her with a flat, expressionless stare. “Apologies for being so blunt. We were hoping you might shed some light, Mr. Harris. When did you last see Louise or Troy?”

  Carl’s gaze never left her face. “It seems a long time ago now.”

  “They didn’t come to Rosie’s funeral,” Paul said, and flushed. They all turned in his direction.

  “Right.” Carl shifted his gaze back to the Californians without turning his head, giving the impression that he was watching the three of them at once.

  Jack continued. “From what we’ve been told, Rosie died about three and a half years ago, so that timing fits. Louise and Troy were missed at Rosie Harris’s funeral and seem to have gone someplace about two or three weeks before that. Does that sound right?”

  “I was never close to them,” Carl said. “We shared certain family assets, but I didn’t track them or socialize with them very much. I do remember that they weren’t at the funeral, now that you mention it, but when they went away, I can’t say.”

  “We got a warrant to check Rosie Harris’s phone records. From that we tracked down the cell phone numbers for Louise and Troy,” Vanessa said. “They must have called her two or three times a day while they were away. Based on those calls we believe they left here about three weeks before she died. There’s no coverage at the top of that cliff, but we do know that Louise called Rosie for the last time at five thirty on Sunday, June fourteenth, two thousand nine. Rosie died on the seventeenth. Is that correct?”

  “That sounds right. She died in June that year. I’d have to look at a calendar.”
r />   “We’re of the opinion that they died on or close to June fourteenth or fifteenth.”

  “That would make sense, I guess. We figured they might have died because they didn’t return from wherever they had gone. Louise and Troy weren’t the types to wander off, and they had no reason to disappear. I guess it’s good to know for sure.”

  “Are there any family members you can think of in Northern California? Or maybe they wanted to do some sort of business?” Vanessa asked.

  “Sure. Well, I suppose there are relatives, here and there. You’re thinking they went out there to do some business?”

  “Or take care of some,” Jack said, his eyes hooded.

  “Speaking of business, Mr. Harris, the word is that your family controls all the crime in this area and that Louise and Troy were key enforcers,” Vanessa said. “Care to comment?”

  Carl turned to face her. He sat motionless and stared.

  “That’s an interesting rumor, Detective. Did Paul tell you that?” Carl swiveled to look at Paul, whose face was pale and sweaty.

  “Let’s say that it seems to be common knowledge,” Vanessa said, pulling his gaze back to her.

  “I don’t know anything about that stuff. I have a legitimate construction business.”

  “Louise thought she was going to inherit leadership of the Harris family business, didn’t she, Mr. Harris?” Vanessa asked. “She felt that she had become the brains and the muscle, and that women had been pushed aside long enough, isn’t that right?”

  Carl’s eyes were cold and hard, although his voice was still warm.

  “The Harris ‘business,’ ” he said, in an echo. “Who knows what that woman thought? She was an idiot. But let me make it clear that I had no motivation to have them killed. I was here when Rosie died.”

  “And you don’t know why they went or whom they met with?”

  “No.”

  “They must have left some belongings. Some property,” Jack said. “Any chance we could look through those?”

  Carl pursed his lips. “They lived at Rosie’s house. They didn’t work. Not in the normal way. Rosie gave them money for stuff—sort of an allowance. In her will, she left the house to her sister, Diane. Diane wasn’t fond of Louise and Troy, you could say. Diane blamed Louise for implicating her in a sad incident. She waited about six months and threw out or gave away everything she could find that belonged to Troy or Louise.”

  “This incident—would that have been when Louise and Troy killed Laura? Or when they beat up Elaine Fardig?” Jack asked.

  Carl blinked.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Louise and Troy didn’t leave wills, I suppose?” Vanessa asked.

  Carl’s smile conveyed no warmth. “I doubt that they understood the concept or the need, quite frankly.”

  A movement in her peripheral vision pulled her gaze to the windows. Vanessa saw that a Subaru station wagon had pulled into the parking area. A few moments later, they were joined by an attractive woman in her late fifties or early sixties.

  “Hi there, I’m Betty,” the woman said. “Please pardon my sniffles. That cold makes my nose run. I’m Carl’s wife. You must be the detectives from California that Carl mentioned.”

  Betty’s hair was white and cut short. Her eyes were a remarkable sapphire blue, almost violet. Vanessa leaned forward to study them and decided the color was not the effect of contacts.

  Betty hustled around the kitchen, putting away groceries. “I’m going to make some tea. I assume all of you would like some,” she said.

  As she prepared the tea, Betty exchanged pleasantries about the weather and asked questions about California. Carl was quiet but kept his gaze fixed on Vanessa. She forced herself not to squirm.

  At last the conversation returned to Louise and Troy.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that they’re dead, of course, but they were very difficult people. Very temperamental,” Betty said, and gave her husband a quick smile.

  “Did they say anything to you before they left?” Vanessa asked.

  “Not a word. I didn’t even realize they were gone until Rosie died. We did not socialize with them or Rosie.”

  “Can you think of anyone they might have visited there?” Jack asked.

  Betty and Carl exchanged glances. “We didn’t hear from anyone we know that they’d seen Louise or Troy,” Betty said.

  The tea was cold. Carl stood up. The interview was over.

  Jack confirmed that the coroner could contact Carl about the remains.

  “We can’t bury them until spring, as you might understand,” Carl said. He waved his hand toward the frozen landscape. “We’ll put them in the family plot once things thaw.”

  Vanessa headed toward the mudroom, but stepped aside when she noticed a bookcase, filled with framed photographs.

  On the top shelf there were pictures of a younger Carl and Betty. Carl looked as though he’d been stuffed into his suit. Betty wore a simple pale pink dress with big shoulder pads and held a matching pink bouquet.

  “Are these your wedding pictures?” Vanessa asked.

  “Carl and I married eighteen years ago,” said Betty. “I was Betty Martinson before.”

  Betty pointed to the next row of photographs. “That’s Carl’s son Jason. He’s a builder in Syracuse. Those two are Jason’s children. And that’s Carl’s other son, Judson, with his wife. He’s a lawyer. They have three children.”

  Vanessa leaned in for a closer examination. “Where does Judson live?”

  Betty bit her lip and glanced at Carl. “Stockton.”

  “Stockton, California?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they didn’t mention seeing Louise and Troy?”

  “No. Absolutely not. Judson and Troy did not get along. Judson would have said something.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you give us Judson’s contact information, okay?”

  Betty’s face folded into a faint scowl.

  Vanessa focused on the next row of pictures. Judson and Jason had reddish hair. The people in this row had dark hair and blue eyes.

  “That’s my daughter, Julie,” Betty said. She pointed to a series of photographs with a young woman, laughing and holding small children. “Those are all the grandchildren from my side. We keep a very blended family these days.”

  Vanessa stared at the pictures.

  “Julie has your eyes,” she said. “So do most of your grandchildren. Julie has a lot of kids.”

  Betty smiled at the pictures. “Those three are Julie’s. Those two are Mark and Pammy, my son’s children. He’s dead, sad to say. And that little girl is Alison, their half-sister. I include her in my family.”

  “How old is your grandson?” Jack asked. “He looks a little different in these two pictures.”

  Betty was staring at Carl. She seemed distracted. “What’s that? I’m sorry. Oh. That’s my grandson, Mark, on the right, and that was his father, John, when he graduated from high school.”

  “Both kids look like their father, but Mark could be his twin,” Jack said.

  Betty smiled but looked a bit sad.

  After donning their winter gear, Paul, Jack, and Vanessa made their way back to the squad car. Vanessa had used the downstairs lavatory at Carl’s house, but Paul and Jack insisted on stopping at the bottom of the hill to pee in the snow, standing at the back of the car.

  Jack finished first. “That’s an activity you only need to do once. I swear that pee was frozen before it hit the ground.”

  “Too much information, Jack,” Vanessa said, eyeballing Paul, still outside the car. “I hope we don’t have to get a description of every rock on the way back.”

  “Give the guy a break, Vanessa. Paul is infatuated with you. He asked if you were single. He’s trying to impress you.”

  Vanessa made a gagging gesture. “Carl and Betty were hiding something, probably related to Jason. And Paul is nervous. This is not a winning combination.”

  10

&nbs
p; Marly: Dreams Come True

  November 18, 2000

  By mid-November, the regular rains had turned to snow showers, and a bitter pre-winter chill settled down into the valley.

  The Harris clan seemed to be keeping their distance. Ever vigilant, Marly was thrilled to hear from her mother that the Shaws—Denise, Charlene, Marly, and the kids—weren’t invited to Rosie’s for Thanksgiving. That suited Marly just fine, although Denise grew weepy for Del at the news.

  On the Saturday before Thanksgiving, Marly was about to leave for her usual weekly shopping trip to Avalon when a black Lincoln with New Jersey plates pulled onto the shoulder of the road. It was followed by an Avalon police cruiser.

  Two tall men in thick, black, wool coats climbed out of the Lincoln. Both wore suits and ties under their coats and their identical black shoes gleamed. Even their hair was the same color gray.

  A matched set. Marly couldn’t recall that she’d ever seen anyone dressed like that in the Springs, even at funerals.

  Paul Daniels, a local Avalon police officer she knew well, flung open the door of his cruiser. Paul heaved himself up and out of the car, clapped his hands, straightened his uniform, and put on his hat, before he slammed the door shut and turned to gaze at Marly.

  She kept still but mentally shook her head. Paul always made such a production of getting in and out of his car. Loser.

  By the way the three men stared at her, it was clear that they expected her to come up to the road, but she waited until they slipped down into the muddy parking area.

  One of the men from the Lincoln pulled out some papers and waved them at her as well as a badge.

  “Agent Thomas and Agent Rockwell. FBI. We’re looking for Wendell Harris. This is an arrest warrant. I assume you’re his daughter.”

  “Could I see that?” she asked.

  The agent handed it to her.

  Marly opened the warrant and studied it, fascinated. She’d never seen one before. She also took a close look at Agent Rockwell’s badge. “He’s not here. He disappeared three weeks ago. I’m not his daughter. He’s been living with my mother, but they aren’t married.”