“We find the coincidence interesting,” Brent said. He pulled the photo of Kate out of his breast pocket. “Have you ever seen this woman?”
Carleen glanced at Peter, looked at the photo. She shrugged. “Maybe. I might have seen her in the store a time or two.”
“Have you ever heard the name Kathleen or Kate Onstad?” Brent asked.
She shook her head, looked down in her lap. “Is that the woman you were looking for? Is she dead, too?”
“No, she’s alive,” Peter said. “We were wondering if there might be some connection between her and your ex-husband.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.”
~ ~ ~
“The first thing out of Bill Stryker’s mouth when he opened his door was ‘I want a lawyer.’”
Peter was chopping onions while Lia tended to a pot of quinoa. She turned on another burner to heat a larger pot with olive oil in the bottom. “Put those in here.” She gestured to the pot with a wooden spoon. Peter obliged. The onions began to sizzle. Lia stirred them with the spoon to keep them from burning. “You think Carleen called him?”
“I’m sure she did.”
“Did you get anything out of him?”
“Nothing worthwhile. But we were able to get a warrant based on his connection to Carleen and probable motive, along with his ownership of the crossbow. Guess what we found.”
“A dead body.”
“Well, there was that.”
Lia turned from the stove, her mouth gaping. “No!”
“Of a sort. He makes his own predator lure by closing up a raccoon carcass in a five gallon bucket with water until the remains liquify. Then he adds coyote urine for good measure.”
“Ugh! Kitchen? Food? Did you have to tell me that when we’re about to eat? Hand me the spinach.”
Peter handed her a bag of pre-washed, organic spinach. She dumped enough to loosely fill the pot, then began stirring it so it would wilt without scorching. She lowered the heat and placed a lid over the greens. “Okay, fish.”
Peter handed her two foil packets, each containing a marinated tilapia fillet. She placed these into the boiling quinoa and covered it.
“Sorry about that. We found a slim-jim, which explains how he broke into Onstad’s rental car. There were more than a dozen cases of beer from his old place of employment. We suspect he got those by illegal means. We’re passing that tidbit along to their security people. We took one of his whiskey bottles. We’ll compare that with the sample I took from the tree stand, to see if they match. The shocker was Munce’s burner phone. He claimed he bought it off some kid, but you know how that goes.”
“So Stryker did it? We were so sure Monica was behind it all.”
“You never know. It wouldn’t be the first time two disgruntled spouses got together to solve a problem. But I doubt they ever met each other.”
“Jim and Terry will be so disappointed. They were both chomping at the bit to pay a condolence call on the Widow Munce. Jim was going to bake her a cake.”
“Were they going to seduce a confession out of her? Was Jim going to put truth serum in that cake? I don’t know what you expected to find out.”
“You have to admit there’s something strange about Monica. Can you put the silverware out? I’d like some water, too, please.”
“Strange isn’t murderous,” Peter called from the table. “Leave the woman alone. She doesn’t need any more grief right now.”
“She’s guilty of something. I know she’s covering something up.”
“Like what?” Peter asked, amused.
“I don’t know, but now she’s perfectly polite to me. I can feel all this tension underneath. It’s not natural. And her daughter is angry about something.” Lia pulled the quinoa off the stove and removed the now-steamed packets of tilapia. She dished them up, along with the quinoa and greens.
“Yeah, I picked up on that. She’s a teenager. Teenagers are always mad about something. That looks great. Much better than the sandwich I had planned.”
“So, what’s next? Is that it?” Lia asked.
“Not quite. We've got to tie the case up. He claims the neighbors saw him out working on his car all day, but I bet there was enough time for him to slip away. It shouldn’t be too hard to break his alibi and figure out how he got down off that hill without his car. We hope to wrap it up tomorrow. Then maybe I can stop working so late. Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?”
“No, I haven’t. Really, you don’t need to go to any trouble.”
“Uh-uh. With this case winding down, I won’t have to work this weekend unless a new corpse shows up. I want to do something fun. Your birthday is just the excuse.”
“So I’m just a pretext for you?”
“In this case, yes.”
“Pig.”
“That’s Monsieur Couchon to you.”
Day 10
Friday, October 18
“I see in the newspaper, they arrested William Stryker for George’s murder,” Jim announced. “It said he was once married to a woman who works at Dollar Hut.”
“So we were totally off base?” Bailey asked.
“Looks like it,” Lia said.
“Alas, my skill at ratiocination will not be put to the test,” Terry said.
Lia turned to Jim. “I hope you didn’t make that cake yet.”
“I was going to bake it this morning. I might do it anyway.”
“Do they know why he did it?” Bailey asked.
“They’ve got some ideas.” Jim said. “But he isn’t talking. According to the paper, he had George’s phone and he owned the bow. That’s open and shut.”
“Murder by crossbow. A truly Medieval act,” Terry said. “Did you know, a soldier could be trained to use a crossbow in less than a week? Whereas a longbow archer has to start practicing by the age of ten, and train continuously to keep up their skill. A good long-bowman can fire ten arrows for every one a crossbowman shoots, and the range of the longbow far exceeds that of the crossbow.
“One pope banned the use of crossbows against Christians. You could only use them against Pagans and other nonbelievers. I have a vague recollection of a prof mentioning a Medieval pope who forbade the clergy from drawing the sword in battle. He said this led to an inventive bishop coming up with the flail.
“Now the flail, that’s a weapon–”
“Terry? What does the flail have to do with anything?” Bailey asked.
Terry shrugged. “It’s just interesting, that’s all.”
“Look who’s pulling in. Isn’t that Kate’s car?” Jim nodded toward the boulevard.
~
Kate walked through the parking lot with Max on the long training lead. She was walking at heel, alert to Kate’s every move. The group stared as the pair advanced to the service road, then disappeared from view as the road curved behind the rise. Kate reappeared when she reached the picnic shelter. Max was still heeling, still focused on Kate. She waved at the group in the large park before entering the small side.
“I’ve got to see this,” Lia said. She called to Honey, Viola and Chewy and headed for the gate.
“Hey, there,” Lia called from the outside of the small park. Max was dutifully following Kitty around in big circles. “Who is that you have with you, and what have you done with my dog?”
Kitty laughed. “Come on in,” she yelled.
Lia entered the little park and her trio dashed forward to greet Max. Max looked up at Kitty, then raced to the end of her lead. The women walked over to the picnic table and climbed on.
“We saw Max walking with you. I can’t believe it’s the same dog. What did you do to her?”
“Renee explained to me that with a strong-willed or highly distractible animal, you have to find out what motivates them and offer them something they want more.”
“What are you giving her? Doggie crack?”
“That’s what Renee calls it.” Kitty pulled an ugly brown lump out of her pocket and said, “Max come!” Max
stopped sniffing Honey and raced to them. She sat, watching Kitty with an expectant look on her face. Kitty handed her the lump. Max snarfed it down and thumped her tail on the ground, hoping for more.
“What is that stuff?”
“Dehydrated liver.”
“That explains it,” Lia said. “Kitty, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“The police have cleared you, haven’t they? Why are you still hanging around?”
Kitty sighed. “I guess I’m not sure what to do with myself. I took a leave of absence from work when I came up here to see George. If things went well between us, I was going to look into a new job and a place to live.”
“You were willing to leave your friends and your job and your life for him?”
“When you’ve lived without love as long as I have, it gives you a different perspective on what’s important. George brought something special into my life, something I hadn’t had since the night we met. I wasn’t foolish enough to quit my job on his promises, but I was willing to be open to the idea that what he offered was real.”
“What about his wife?”
“Naturally I didn’t feel good about breaking up a marriage. George rarely talked about Monica, but I’m convinced their marriage was already broken before we met again. That thing I was missing, George was missing it, too. He broke his wedding vows with me, but I think she broke faith with him first by not being a true wife. She may have kept things together on the outside, but that internal bond was missing. I don’t believe she ever thought of him as anything but someone to keep up appearances with.”
“Why do you suppose he married her?” Lia asked.
“From what little I know, Monica represented a normal life to him. Very ‘Ozzie and Harriet.’ It took him a long time to realize it was all surface. I was married, once, to someone who slowly squeezed the life out of me. I’m now convinced he never really knew me and never cared to. It was a very empty life.”
Lia sighed. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Certainly, Dear. Sometimes it’s so much easier to confide in a stranger.”
“Peter wants us to get more serious, but I’m scared of exactly what you’re talking about. I don’t want to make that kind of mistake. How do you tell if it’s going to work?”
“I’m no expert, but I did a lot of thinking after I got my divorce. I think time is your best ally in figuring that out. Too many people get married before they discover what the other person is all about. You’ve got to wait until the stars fall off your eyes. A good relationship strengthens over time, while a poor one shows its flaws. People either grow together or they grow apart. It’s important to look to yourself as well. I had some very immature, Cinderella notions when I got married. It’s important to make sure you understand your own motives.”
“That’s it? Just wait?”
“Just time,” Kitty agreed, “and keeping your eyes open.”
“Thanks.” Lia paused, considering Kitty’s words. “What are you going to do now?”
“I thought I’d spend today taking Max around to the other parts of the park, like you did with Honey. If Daisy is still in the woods, she might come to me. It gives me something to do, and Max enjoys the exercise.”
“What about your trip?”
“I’m not due home for a few more weeks. I’d like to stay long enough to understand what really happened. I want to be more settled about everything before I go.
“I understand they arrested someone yesterday. The paper said he was once married to one of the women who worked for George, and that George helped her get her divorce. Do you know anything about it?”
“Only that,” Lia said.
“He must be a very angry man.”
~ ~ ~
“I hear banjos, and I’m outta here,” Brent said as Peter knocked on the door. Peter did not have time to reply before the door swung open.
Brian Dempsey was not what they were expecting. The yawning man stood five-eleven and was a touch stocky. Peter judged him to be in his mid-thirties. His hair was short, about one-half inch long, and he had a day’s growth of beard. He wore sweat pants and a tee shirt. His clothes were clean. His eyes were intelligent. They held none of the bleariness of chemical pursuits, none of the animal cunning of the base criminal element Peter had been anticipating.
His expression was polite and relaxed. It occurred to Peter that he had heard no mad scramble to hide a bong or stash. He peered around Brian. What he could see of the living room was tidy.
“Brian Dempsey?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m Detective Dourson and my partner is Detective Davis. We’re making inquiries about one of your neighbors, Bill Stryker. Do you know him?”
“More than I want to. Why do you ask?”
“We’re looking into events that happened the morning of October seventh. Were you around then?”
“The seventh? That was a Monday, wasn’t it?” He pulled a smart phone out of his pocket, clicked on a calendar icon. He yawned again, displaying well-tended teeth. “Sorry, I work nights. Monday, I don’t have any classes until two. That day I had an eight o’clock dental appointment, so I got home from work around six-thirty. I had breakfast, left again around seven-thirty, came back around nine-thirty. I leave for school at one-thirty on my late days.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“Cincinnati State.” Another yawn. “I study electronics.”
“Did you see Stryker that morning?” Brent asked.
Brian rubbed the back of his neck, frowning while he thought. “Not when I came home, not when I left for the dentist. When I came back, he was outside, working on his truck. I went in, slept until one. When I got up, I could hear him swearing from inside my living room. He was still at it when I left for class.” He nodded at Bill Stryker’s old F-150. “Swearing and banging on the undercarriage. That truck has interesting ancestry.”
“He work on it often?” Brent asked.
“More often than not.”
“Did you look outside at any time between nine-thirty and one-thirty?” Peter asked. “We’re wondering if Stryker was there all morning, or if he might have left for a while.”
Brian grimaced. “I never looked outside. I will say that there were a lot more parts on the ground when I left, and plenty of beer bottles. I think he was pulling the transmission.”
“Were those Hudy bottles?” Brent asked.
“Don’t know, but that’s what he usually drinks. Is his beer important?”
“Just wondering. Does Stryker have any other transportation besides that truck?”
“Hell, half the time, he doesn’t even have that.”
~
Brian said one of his neighbors was usually home during the day and might remember seeing Stryker on the day in question. He pointed them to the woman’s house, where a skinny hound was chained to the front porch. The hound failed to lift his head when they climbed to the porch, but a suspicious number of dogs set up a hullabaloo as Brent knocked on the door.
“Think she has licenses for all those dogs?” Brent asked.
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
A stringy woman who looked sixty but was probably forty answered the door, accompanied by the strong odor of beer. She was vague on dates. She sometimes saw Stryker working on his truck, but she couldn’t say when. In fact, she wasn’t sure what day of the week it was. Brent told her it was Friday.
Peter concentrated on the road as he drove down the hill. “We’ve got a window of opportunity for Munce’s murder. Based on the time he was supposed to meet with Onstad and when he was due in to work, it should have happened sometime between ten and one.
“Dempsey is a credible witness who puts Stryker at home immediately before and after the window,” Peter continued. The postman is off for a long weekend and won’t be back until Monday. No telling if he’ll remember seeing Stryker or not.”
“Stryker could have slipped out while Dempse
y was asleep. Makes it harder, since our best scenario has him setting up in the woods before Munce arrives,” Brent said. “How do you suppose he got down off this hill?”
“He had to have an accomplice. It’s the only explanation. The accomplice sticks a screwdriver into Onstad’s tire, then waits on Brestel where he can’t be seen from the top of the hill. Stryker probably stashed the crossbow with him before he reported it stolen, just in case the responding officer asked to have a look around. His buddy drops him off with the crossbow and goes on his merry way. Stryker offs Munce and takes Munce’s car. He disposes of the car, dumps it or sells it to a chop shop. Buddy picks him up, takes him home.”
“It’s tight,” Brent mused, “but it could happen. So now we look for known associates. Why do you think he kept the phone?”
“Because crooks are stupid?” Peter suggested.
“Makes our job easier.”
“Truth.”
“You picked out a birthday present for Lia yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Time is passing, Brother.”
“Worry about your own woman.”
“I would, but Cynth has yet to surrender to my charms. She obviously has no clue what delights are in store for her.”
Day 11
Saturday, October 19
Lia arrived at the park to find her friends gathered in the picnic shelter while their dogs lined the inside of the fence, watching. As she approached, Jim, Bailey, Jose, Terry, Kitty and a number of other regulars began to sing “Happy Birthday” to her.
Lia shook her head while she released her dogs into the park. She returned to the shelter to find Bailey and Jose lighting candles on a plain chocolate cake dusted with confectioners’ sugar. The candles stood sentinel on the long side of the cake, so close together they looked like one long flame.
Jim had cut “Happy Birthday Lia” out of paper, laid the letters on top of the cake and sprinkled the sugar on top so that when he removed the letters, the sentiment stood out.
Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) Page 15
