“You own a .22?” Max asked.
“Used to. Had it stolen during all those break-ins a couple of years ago.”
“Did you report the theft?”
Ivan shook his head. “The gun was old, not worth much. It had been my dad’s. Can’t remember the last time I shot it.”
“Where did you go to look at land for the resort?”
“I told you. Down the lake at the Point.” He waved to the east. “Just to have a plan B in hand.”
Max sent Ivan back to the others. Then she called Henry Wojak to her office. “Were you out near the Point today?” she asked.
“Cruised out that way before noon,” he said. “Just checking things out. That storm hit on the way back to town. Got so bad I pulled over to wait it out. Kept the radio on in case I got a call. But I didn’t.”
“You see anybody in your travels?”
Henry nodded. “Passed Billy Ray leaving Tim Hortons. Darn fool drove right through the storm.”
“Notice anything else?”
“Sammy Little was there at Tim Hortons. Saw his truck outside. And Ryan Kelly. His fancy sports car was parked there too.”
Max said, “Send Kelly in.”
Ryan Kelly made sure everyone in town knew how much he gave up to move to Port Ainslie and start his career as a winemaker. He had been a stock trader in Toronto with a big house in town and a farm in the country. His wife had been a top fashion model. He gave it up, he told everyone, to buy land north of town and grow grapes for wine.
As much as he liked the idea, his wife did not. In fact, she hated it, and they soon divorced. That was five years ago. Since then Ryan seemed to be making a success of his winery. People who knew about such things said his wines were sure to become famous in a few years.
His wines might have been doing well, but Kelly had spent a lot of money to get where he was. Most of the money to start the winery had been borrowed. It was an open secret that Chateau Milford Wines was deeply in debt. Someday the wines might make Kelly rich, but that day was years away. Until then, Kelly’s bank and friends who had loaned him cash owned more of his winery than he did.
None of this seemed to bother Kelly. At forty-four years of age, he drove an expensive sports car around town and lived well. To the people in small-town Port Ainslie, he was a very calm and cool guy. Until now. Sitting across from Max, he did not look calm and cool. He looked nervous and upset.
“Where were you this morning?” Max asked Kelly when he sat down.
“Let me see,” Kelly said. He looked at the ceiling as he spoke. “I opened the shop at nine and set up some wines for tasting. I talked with the staff and set up displays. Then I went for a drive.”
“A drive?”
“It was a nice day. Before the storm hit.”
“What time did you leave the store?”
“Half an hour before noon. Maybe more.”
“Where did you drive to?”
“Tim Hortons on the highway.”
“Why?”
It was a simple question, but Kelly looked as though it was a hard one to answer. “I bought some coffee and a box of donuts.” He shifted in his chair. “The strange thing is…” He hesitated. Then he said, “Billy Ray was there. He was getting ready to leave just as I arrived. Left in the middle of that storm. He didn’t care. He never cared about anything.”
“Did you two talk?” Max said.
“I asked if he had changed his mind and might sell his land,” Kelly said. “He said, Hell, no. And nobody’s making me. I’m going back to sit in the garage with my shotgun as long as it takes. Nobody’s getting my land, at any price. He had an extra-large coffee with him. He said he would stay there until the people who wanted his land gave up trying. He said they could take their big plans somewhere else. I believed him. I met Sam Little inside the shop and told him what Billy Ray had told me. I said Sammy should tell Henry or you that Billy Ray might do something dumb.”
“Where did you go with your coffee and donuts?”
Max liked to ask questions from out of nowhere. Sometimes you got an answer you didn’t expect. Like this time.
Kelly thought for a moment. Then he said, “Down the lake a mile or two.”
“Which way?”
“Pardon?”
Max bit off each word. “Which way did you go with your donuts and coffee?”
“East,” he said. “I went east.”
“To Rockcliffe Point?”
Kelly looked surprised. “Yes…Yes, down that way.”
Max asked whom the coffee and donuts were for.
Sweat showed on Ryan’s brow. “A friend.”
“Who is she?”
Ryan grew tense. “She’s, uh…”
“Married?”
“No…not quite.”
“What does that mean?”
“She is kind of married, but she lives alone…”
“Deborah Edwards? Billy Ray’s soon-to-be-ex-wife? Is that where you went with coffee, donuts and…?” She left other words hanging in the air and waited for Ryan to speak.
Ryan bit his lower lip. He slumped in his chair.
“Look, Ryan,” Max said. “If you want to fool with someone’s wife, that is your business. I don’t care. Just tell me the truth.”
Kelly nodded to her.
“So you have donuts and coffee with the soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. Billy Ray Edwards,” Max said. “Then what?”
Kelly folded his hands in his lap and sat up straight. “I came back through town on my way to the vineyard. I wanted to check on the vines after the storm. I was worried it might have damaged the crop. Ivan called me at the vineyard and said I should come back to town. He said we would all meet to talk about Billy Ray and what to do with him.”
“And you went to meet with them?”
“Yes.”
“What time did you get there?”
“Sometime after two. They had started talking by the time I arrived.”
“What about?”
“They agreed that Billy Ray would spoil things for the town. Ivan said we should have it out with that rascal right now. That’s how he put it. We should all go down there now and have it out with him. Talk to him all together. Who will come with me? I said I would go, but first I had to do some work at the store. I needed to check the stock, that sort of thing. So I said I would meet them all at Billy Ray’s. I spent more time at the store than I thought I would. When I got to Billy Ray’s, I met you there.”
Max stared at Ryan. Had Billy Ray been jealous about Deborah, even more than a year after she left him? How would Billy Ray have felt about her and Ryan mixed up in a romance? She wanted to think about that. For now, she had heard all she needed to hear from Ryan Kelly. “Tell Margie to send in Sam Little,” she said. “And go have a strong coffee. You look like you could use one.”
SIX
Sam Little could fix a leaky roof, weld a bed frame or paint a house. He did good work for not much money. He also spent as much time trading gossip as he did working on the job at hand. Now he sat in Max’s office, wearing a blue shirt and jeans with a red kerchief around his neck. His long gray hair was tied back in a ponytail. He looked like Willie Nelson’s younger brother.
“Let’s see,” Sam said when Max asked where he had been that day. “I read the paper at Tim Hortons…”
“Is that where you met Ryan Kelly?”
“That’s right,” Sam said. “Saw Billy Ray there too. Saw him talk to Ryan a bit. When Billy Ray left, Ryan came and told me Billy Ray had a gun. Said he might use it. Said I should tell you or Henry.”
“And did you?”
“I told Henry. See, I left just as that storm hit. Boy, that was something, wasn’t it? I stopped the truck under a bridge when the rain came down hard. When it was over I saw Henry coming. I waved him down and told him what Ryan Kelly had told me. I said maybe one of you should go to Billy Ray and get him to see some reason.”
“What did Henry say?”
“He said
he would look into it.”
“What next?”
“I went home to start putting down new floor tile. The wife has been at me for weeks to get it done. Then Ivan called to say there was a meeting at his office. Said I should come and help decide what to do about Billy Ray.”
“Did you go?”
“Sure did. I was glad to go. Hate doing tile. Down on your knees all day—”
“Just tell me what went on at the meeting,” Max said.
“Well, when I got there I told Ivan what I had heard from Ryan. That’s when things got started. We all agreed we had to do something. I mean, short of murder, right? Nobody talked about that. Next thing I know we’re walking the couple of blocks down Main Street to Billy Ray’s. When we got there, Ivan is so worked up he lifts the garage door before anybody can say anything. And there he is. Billy Ray, I mean. We knew he was dead as soon as we saw him.”
Max told Sam to go back to the boardroom and to stay with the others until she said they could leave. As he was about to go out the door, she said, “How well do you know Deborah Edwards?”
Sam turned back to smile at her. “Not near as well as I’d like to.”
When Sam left, Max called Henry Wojak to her office. “Did Sam Little tell you Billy Ray was in his garage with a loaded gun on his lap?” she said.
Henry thought, then said, “Yes, he did.”
“And did Sam think one of us should go and talk some sense into him?”
“Uh-huh,” Henry said. “He said that too.”
“What did you do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Thought it might be best for you to do it.”
Max sat for a time and stared at Henry. “Why would you want me to face Billy Ray?” she said.
Henry looked edgy. “I thought he’d listen to you,” he said. “Never listened to me. Never paid me any mind.”
“But you didn’t tell me, did you?”
Henry look down and nodded. “Forgot all about it after we found him dead. Thing like that can shake you up. Kinda wipe your mind clean. If you know what I mean.”
Max stared at him a moment longer. Then she said, “Tell them all I’ll be there in a minute,” she said.
When Henry left, Max looked at her notes. The key was there. One of the people she had just talked to had shot Billy Ray. She knew it.
All of them had a reason to do it. And each had a chance. It would take less than a minute to walk to the window at the rear of the garage. Rip some branches off a cedar tree and drop them on the ground. Lean through the window, take aim, and shoot Billy Ray from behind. Then go. If it was still storming, nobody would be around to see you. And no one would hear the shot with all the rain and thunder.
They would not have a problem with a gun. Guns were as common as crows in the area. Folks didn’t keep track of all the guns they had. You could buy a .22 rifle in these parts and nobody would know you had it.
Were they all part of a plot to kill Billy Ray? Max thought about that, but it didn’t make sense. They had all moved around too much when the storm hit, when Billy Ray had been shot. No, she told herself, Billy Ray had been killed by one person. Two at the most.
Something someone had said in the past half hour told her who had done it. She was sure of that. She just had to figure out what it was and who had said it.
Max sat and read over her notes a second time. Then a third time. Where was it? What was it? She wondered if one of the hotshots at the would spot it. If they did and named the killer right away, would they tease her about it? Would they say small-town cops like her should leave murder to them? Of course they would. She hated the idea. But she had to be honest. She was a good cop, and good cops get help when they need it. It did not make sense to stay stubborn and pig-headed. Like Billy Ray had been. She should swallow her pride and turn everything over to the OPP.
She sighed, knowing she would have to call the OPP. If she could not solve the crime before they arrived, she could at least build a thick file of clues for them.
She could hear Ivan Curic’s voice through her open door. He was speaking to everyone in the boardroom, and she went to hear what he was telling them.
Ivan’s back was to her when she entered the room. “I’ll treat us all to coffee, snacks and maybe some of Ryan Kelly’s wine,” he was saying. Margie was near the window with her arms folded, looking bored. Henry was leaning against a wall. “We can get a lot done now that—”
“Now that what?” Max said.
Ivan turned and tried to smile. “I was just saying now that…” He stopped to think of the next word to say.
“Now that Billy Ray is no longer alive?” Max said.
“Well, look,” Ivan said.
“Ivan means that we can get some things done now,” Ryan said. He was more cool than when he had spoken to Max in her office. “We can meet tonight and talk about how to get that resort built.”
“That’s right,” Seth said. “It’s too bad, Billy Ray being shot and all, but that’s how things go. Those folks in Toronto, the money people, they can go to Billy Ray’s wife. When they get her on their side, we’ll be on our way.”
“Maybe she won’t sell,” Ben said. “Maybe she’ll be like Billy Ray. Do you think so?” He looked at Ivan.
“I’ll talk to the resort folk, tell them about Billy Ray and that we hear his wife will get the land,” Ivan said. “My guess is, they’ll wait for the will to be settled. And I’m betting that his wife will sign for a million cash. Who wouldn’t?” He turned to Max. “What do you think?” he asked.
“None of my business,” Max said. “What time is this meeting you’re talking about?”
“Eight o’clock,” Ivan said. “At my office. You’re welcome to come. The whole town is welcome. You come by and I’ll save a coffee and butter tart for you.”
“Forget the coffee and tart,” Max said. She turned to leave and got the keys to the new cruiser. “But I will be there.” She stopped to look back at them. “I want all of you there too,” she said. Then she asked Margie to come to her office.
“Call the provincials in Cranston,” she said. “Tell them to bring their homicide team. I’m on my way east to the Point.” Walking to the door she said, “Keep an eye on things while I’m gone.” Then she added in a lower voice, “Including Henry.”
SEVEN
Rockcliffe Point was just a mile east of Port Ainslie, but it was not at all like the rest of the area. West of town, the lakeshore was all wide beaches of soft white sand. The land to the east was bare and rocky, squeezed between the lake and Granite Mountain. When heavy snow fell, the Point could be cut off from the rest of the town for days. And the wind that blew down from the mountain could be cold and raw.
Max looked around as she drove along the road to the Point. She was glad she had chosen to live west of town, where the air was soft and the breezes were gentle.
Only a few cottages were at Rockcliffe Point, and she found Deborah Edwards’s without a problem. Like others on the road, it sat among thin trees that clung to the poor soil. A gray cedar-shake roof, with a large stone chimney poking out of it, topped dull-brown siding. Two large windows looked out onto the lake.
Just as Max stepped out of the car, her radio buzzed and she heard Margie say, “You there, Chief?”
Max pressed the mic. “What’s up, Marge?” she said. She saw a curtain move at a window of the cottage.
“You’re on your own for a while,” Margie said. “Just heard from the OPP. That darn bridge is stuck up in the air again. The OPP can’t get here for three, maybe four, hours. And get this. The med officer is stuck on this side of the river with Billy Ray’s corpse growing cold in the back of his van. Or maybe it’s growing warm…”
“Thanks, Margie,” Max said. “I’ll go in and talk to Mrs. Edwards now. Will call back when I’ve left.”
Max climbed the steps on the lake side of the cottage. Just as she got to the top step the door swung open, and D
eborah Edwards stood staring at her. The woman’s face was as blank as a dinner plate.
“If you’ve come to tell me about Billy Ray,” Deborah said, “I already know.”
Deborah Edwards carried herself as though she had not been called Debbie since she was a child. Some women have that look, Max thought, a look that made you call them by their full names. They were always Deborah, never Debbie. Always Susan, never Sue. Always Judith, never Judy. So why was she always Max and never Maxine?
The woman’s high cheekbones and slanted dark eyes gave her a catlike look. She wore a blue cotton sweater with loose threads, old jeans, and sneakers.
“May I ask how you knew about your husband’s death?” Max said.
“A friend called me.” Deborah did not invite Max inside. In fact, it was clear that she did not want Max there at all.
“When?”
“I don’t know. Three this afternoon. Around that time.”
Max had a good idea who the friend was. “I would like to talk to you about your husband’s death,” she said. “May I come in?”
“Sure.” Deborah turned and walked into the cottage, leaving Max to close the door herself.
The few pieces of furniture were of good quality, but they had seen better days. Deborah sat in a pine rocker. Max chose a sofa facing a window with a view of the lake. Opening her notebook, she said, “Do you have any idea who might have killed your husband?”
“Just about everyone in town,” Deborah said. Did she hide a smile when she said it? Max thought so. This was not a weeping widow. “Except me. I might have, but I couldn’t. I’ve been here all day.”
“Alone?”
The smile was gone. “What difference does that make?”
“If you had a visitor it would confirm your alibi.”
“I did. Have a visitor.”
“Who was that?”
“I’m not sure I have to tell you.”
Max turned to look into the kitchen.
“Any donuts left?”
Deborah stayed cool. “Sure. You want one? I think some are left over. Take them. If you want more, I can call Ryan.”
Murder for Max, A Page 4
