The Sleuth Sisters

by Pill, Maggie

  “Chief Neuencamp?”

  “Yes.” His back was to me, and his tone was merely polite until he turned. I can’t help it. I love that change that occurs somewhere behind the eyes when a man appreciates me as a woman. Subtle things happen: pot bellies recede a little, shoulders straighten, and eyes drop. The time it takes for his gaze to return to her face lets a woman know what kind of man she’s facing.

  This one got back to business quickly. “What can I do for you, Mrs., uh, ma’am?”

  Now, I might have overlooked his forgetting my name after just one meeting, but ma’am is not my favorite term of address. The first time a clerk used it on me, I almost left the store. When did I stop being Miss? Though Barbara disagrees, I prefer Honey or Sweetie to Ma’am, which sounds old! With my best forgiving smile, I prompted, “I’m Margaretta Stilson.”

  “Oh, yeah. After our, um, meeting, I got to thinking. Are you related to—”

  I stepped in to speed things up. “My late husband.”

  “That was a terrible thing, his getting shot.” I lowered my lashes, but his keys jingled in his hand. He was trying to be polite, but he wanted me to state my business.

  “If you’re on your way to lunch, may I join you? There are things I’d like to discuss.”

  Was it a woman asking a strange man to have lunch with her that surprised him, or the fact that I had an agenda? After the slightest pause he said, “If you don’t mind driving your own car. I’m due at the County Commission meeting at one. Is Barney’s all right with you?”

  Barney’s was on the lowbrow end of Allport’s dining choices, but there was nothing wrong with the food. I guessed its utilitarian aspect would minimize gossip about the new chief dining with an attractive widow. At least as much as gossip in a small town is ever minimized.

  When I arrived a few minutes behind him, the chief rose gallantly and held my chair. It’s a charming custom, but my theory is it’s designed to give a man a good, long look at a woman’s backside. Not that Neuencamp seemed that type, but you never know.

  Once he sat down again, a waitress brought us menus. I asked for iced tea; he ordered a Coke. She recommended the special, and I listened, because whatever Barney says is special on a given day usually is. Today it was a panini, however. Too messy for a first-time meal with a man. I chose a salad, and the chief ordered the French dip. With fries. He must have a great metabolism to stay trim at his age with all that fat and calories.

  “What’s on your mind, Ms. Stilson?” he asked when the waitress had retreated, menus under one arm and gum cracking at full power.

  So he wasn’t much for small talk. “I mentioned my sisters, Chief. May I call you Rory?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m Retta. As I told you, they run a detective agency here in town.” Pressing my lips together as a little rebellious streak rose I said, “I sometimes help with their cases.”

  He took the straw out of his drink, set it aside, and took a long swallow. “I met Barb.”

  “Really?” Ms. Hermit already knew the new man in town?

  “A couple of times now.” I couldn’t tell what he thought of her, but it was probably negative. Barbara Ann comes off as cold, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I hoped she hadn’t alienated the new chief already. Making no excuses for her, I forged ahead.

  “We’re looking into a cold case. I arranged help from the state police detective who was lead on it, and Faye spoke with Tom Stevens, but I wonder if there might be something in the old chief’s files that could help. I mean, Kowaleski probably kept his own notes, right?”

  “Most of us do.” Neither of us mentioned the sad fact that the old chief’s stuff was probably still in the office. There’d been no one to give it to when he died.

  The waitress set down a little tub of coleslaw for Rory and a breadstick for me. The one thing that separates Barney’s from other diners is the breadstick. Although I’m sure they go directly to my hips, I cannot resist them. I tore the warm, buttery thing in half and took a bite.

  “If I stop by after your meeting, do you think I could get a look at those notes?”

  His eyes crinkled briefly. “Tell you what. I’ll review them tonight. Tomorrow I’ll share what I think can be shared.” His hands spread in a gesture that said it was the best he would do.

  I know men, know when there’s one I can’t charm into bending his principles—at least not so early in a relationship. “That’s very kind of you.” Taking up the rest of my breadstick, I asked, “How did you come to northern Michigan from Chicago?”

  The rest of the lunch was pleasant. Rory was certainly attractive, and he revealed polite interest in me without stooping to condescension, flattery, or drooling. He was the type a woman of mature age doesn’t often meet in a small town, and I left feeling good about the future.

  I was slightly disappointed that I had to wait until morning to learn what was in Kowaleski’s notes. The upside to the matter, of course, would be visiting Rory again to find out.

  There was lots of day left, so I searched my brain for a person with an inside view of the Wozniak family dynamic at the time of the murders. The police hadn’t uncovered a suspect other than Neil Brown, but honestly, they hadn’t looked very hard. Someone had to know what Carina really thought of her husband. I just had to figure out who that someone was.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Barb

  As soon as Brown left, I asked at the motel desk about car rental. As the clerk began the process of finding me a vehicle, I tried on a hat from the souvenir rack that said I love DA U.P. Pairing that with a sweatshirt picturing the Falls, I added one of those disposable cameras as a prop.

  When the rental car was delivered to the hotel, I headed to Tahquamenon, looking like Clark Griswold’s mother. The area was waking up to spring. I passed beautiful chalets and rustic lodges where visitors to the falls could stay, play, and, of course, gamble. The U.P. has plenty of casinos. Apparently, love of nature and lucky numbers go hand-in-hand.

  Though the roadside was dotted with clumps of green, pine and cedar, the maple, beech and oak trees were just sprouting leaves. Without nature’s cover, I also saw the faded hopes and dreams of a multitude of property owners: failed motels, aging cabins, and boarded businesses. FOR SALE signs hung from mailbox posts, fences, and trees. Michigan’s tough economy had turned second homes and summer businesses into luxuries many could no longer afford.

  At the entrance to Tahquamenon State Park, I paid the entry fee and proceeded, noting the unexpected presence of a microbrewery on park property. Unusual in a state park, I thought as I turned left and parked. My vehicle had the lot all to itself, and the sound of my door slamming echoed in the silence. A pickup truck sat next to the restroom building, and lights shone inside. At least I wasn’t totally alone.

  Following the signs, I made my way to the main trail, which led to a cross-trail where more signs informed me that the Upper Falls were to the right, the Lower Falls to the left. We hadn’t thought of that. How preposterous would it be if we missed getting my sister back because we went in the opposite direction the kidnapper did!

  After a short trek to the left I came to a wooden staircase that descended to the rushing water. Turning, I went back and followed the trail to the Lower Falls. The rushing water made a constant roar, and I glimpsed its swirling movement between the trees. A sturdy wood fence kept visitors on the trail and away from the abrupt drop-off.

  Not far along the path I came to a second set of steps that led to a different viewing area. It was ninety-four steps down, according to the sign. A boast or a warning?

  Leaning over the banister, I surveyed the view below. A boxed overhang at the waterline provided a perfect photo op for tourists, the falls at one side and the forest across the river a charming backdrop. I was briefly mesmerized by the sheer power of the rushing
, churning water. It was hard to tear my gaze away, but I wasn’t here to appreciate nature’s power.

  What I wanted was a place to hide so I could cover Brown while he exchanged the flash drive for my sister. After exploring the trail from all directions, I chose a likely spot where I could follow, whichever way they went. If Neil brought me a gun, I’d be close enough to shoot the kidnapper if necessary. Could I actually do it? Yes, if it meant my sister’s life.

  Hoping I had an advantage now that I knew the terrain, I started back to the parking lot. There was a lot to worry about, and I’m good at it. Was Faye all right, or had the man killed her and thrown her body into the deep Michigan woods? Would Neil return, having a vehicle and a head start? And even if those two questions were answered my way, did I have time to get the gun from Neil and get to my chosen hiding spot before the kidnapper arrived?

  As I left the trees, I saw that it was too late. Next to my car sat a dirty white Ford. My heart sank. I didn’t have the gun; I didn’t have Neil’s help; I didn’t have the flash drive. I had no way to bargain for my sister’s life.

  As I came closer, however, the lone figure leaning against the car became clearer, and my shoulders relaxed. It was Faye, smoking a cigarette and looking very grumpy.

  “Faye!” I hurried forward as she stubbed the butt against the sole of her shoe.

  “Hi.”

  I am not a frequent hugger, but I embraced her, biting my lip to control the tears of relief that threatened. “How did you get away?”

  She pulled away and faced me, one eyebrow raised in comic disgust. “It was only one guy, Barb, and not a very smart one at that.” I pulled out a tissue and wiped my nose, running from relief this time, not from allergies. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll introduce you.”

  She took keys from her pocket, checked the area for onlookers, and, seeing none, opened the trunk. A head popped up. At a nod from Faye, the occupant clambered out, an embarrassed grin on his face. I stared in disbelief as he brushed dust from his jeans, settled his clothes into place, and pushed back straight blond hair that fell back over his eyes as soon as it was released.

  “Barb, meet Gabe.”

  “Are you the one who shot at us?”

  “No.” His tone was definite. “You gotta understand. I had no idea he’d start shooting.”

  Faye regarded him as if he were a carpet stain. “Apparently Gabe has a partner.”

  The little man made an objection-like noise, but she glared him down. “Gabe had an associate who fired at us. He thinks the guy has since returned to Allport.”

  “He left me!” Gabe’s tone was outraged, as if he thought we’d commiserate.

  “Left you?”

  “Yeah, the chicken-sh—”

  “Tell her what you’re doing up here.” Faye’s tone revealed irritation. Gabe nodded obediently.

  “We was hired to follow you ladies and see if you found that Brown guy. We was supposed to get a certain piece of property back that he stole from our employer. I thought it was cool when you found him, but then, Z—my associate—pulls out a gun and starts blastin’ away.”

  He paused to let me absorb that much, clicking his tongue in disgust. “I almost sh—I mean, I was real scared when you guys fired back. I’m non-violent, y’know?” He actually raised two fingers in a sign of peace not often seen since the ’60s. “It was s’pose to be a simple job. Find Brown; take our employer’s property back; get paid.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  Gabe looked to Faye, didn’t like what he saw, and turned back to me. For once, I was the more sympathetic listener, perhaps because I wasn’t the one who’d been kidnapped. Actually, Gabe reminded me of a succession of low-level, low-wattage but not necessarily evil criminals I’d dealt with over the years. They don’t mean to be mean, and they spill their guts within minutes of being caught.

  “We was supposed to wait until you two left then go after Brown and get the thing-y.”

  Faye took a drag on her cigarette. “Apparently the mysterious Z is not so non-violent as Gabe here. Must have thought putting a few rounds through the cabin would send us running.”

  “He got nervous,” Gabe defended his associate’s action. “You ladies stayed in there a long time. He had to do something.”

  “Associate Z did not expect return fire,” Faye rubbed her chin lightly, perhaps to banish a smile. “Apparently, he panicked and ran—drove away, rather, leaving Gabe behind.”

  “He shoulda stayed. I mean, we weren’t gonna get paid if we didn’t come back with the thing-y.” Gabe stuck out a hand, turning it palm up in a gesture that implied his next move was obvious. “I figure Z’s out of the picture, so the money’s all mine if I get what we came for.”

  “So you kidnapped my sister.”

  Gabe looked at the pavement. “I wouldna hurt her. I needed something to trade, is all.”

  “And the object of all this? The thing-y you were supposed to get?”

  “It’s a flash drive.” Gabe didn’t seem sure what that was. “Our guy wants it back.”

  “And who is this guy?”

  He shrugged. “Well, when I say I know him, I don’t mean I really know him. He’s somebody Z knows.”

  “Did you get a name?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  Gabe looked nervous. “I only talked to him on the phone, but Zack said he was cool.”

  “So some guy feeds you this story and you believe it? You follow two innocent women to the U.P., shoot up a cabin, and kidnap one of them, all on the word of a voice on the phone?”

  “The guy killed his wife, didn’t he? Besides, the dude gave us each five hundred up front and promised five hundred more when we brought back the thing-y.”

  “I see. A thousand bucks buys a lot of credulity.”

  “Huh?”

  “Does your employer know you decided to try kidnapping?”

  Gabe chewed at a fingernail. “Uh, yeah. He wasn’t thrilled to hear it.”

  “But if you get the flash drive, it will be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed at Faye, almost accusingly. “She walked right into it. I mean, she comes outside to smoke. There’s nobody around. I had to take a chance or lose the money.”

  “He threw my phone into a ditch after he called you.” Faye glared at Gabe as she added, “I hate getting used to a new phone.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, as if telephonic interruption topped kidnapping.

  I got back to business. “Your employer expects you to return to Allport with this drive.”

  “I would have, too, except she attacked me.” Faye clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes skyward. “She hit me with her purse.” He sounded like a kid tattling on a playmate, but he was right. Faye’s purse should be registered as a lethal weapon.

  “You set the pathetic jackknife you waved at me on the seat,” Faye said coolly. “In that situation I’m supposed to be afraid of a guy who weighs a third less than I do?”

  I hid a smile, picturing her turning on the pipsqueak. Though I’d never seen her tough side, I’d guessed there was one. Women who raise teenage boys develop a certain fearlessness.

  Faye rolled her neck side to side. “Genius here has the impression there’s something valuable on this flash drive, industrial secrets, maybe. I think he’s told us all he knows.”

  “Yeah. He wants it back real bad. Your guy stole it, so I was justicated in using force.”

  “Justified, and no, you weren’t. You shot at us.”

  “I told you, it wasn’t me.” He shivered at the memory. “I couldn’t believe he did that.”

  “So what did you do after your associate ran away like the coward he is?”

  “Besides calling him every bad name I c
ould think of?” He looked from Faye to me, but neither of us reacted to his attempt at humor. “I stayed down and quiet. When you all piled into the Chevy and left, I searched the cabin.” He shrugged. “Didn’t find it.”

  “You thought we’d run and not take this valuable flash drive with us?” I asked.

  Gabe shrugged again. Apparently he was good at it. “I guess so.”

  Faye raised her brows. “Gabe operates on the premise that everyone in the world thinks exactly as he does.”

  After wiping his nose on a knuckle, he said, “There was this old car with the keys in it, and I figured I’d see if I could find you. I mean what’s north except Paradise? I had to drive around town for a long time, but then I saw your car at the motel.”

  “Should have hidden it,” I muttered, and Gabe nodded, acknowledging my mistake.

  “How many ’57 Chevys does a guy see in a day? I hung around, thinking I could make things right with the boss.” Jabbing a finger at Faye, he said, “She comes outside, and I decide to be a entrepreneur.” He was proud of the four-syllable word, though he said “ahn ter PEN yur.” Resentment returned as he added, “Who knew I had a couple over-the-hill Charlie’s Angels?”

  “What do we do with him?” I asked Faye.

  She appeared to want to smack him but said instead, “We take him back to Allport.”

  I pulled her aside, whispering, “Faye, that’s kidnapping.”

  “He kidnapped me first!”

  “That doesn’t justify us doing the same thing.”

  “You mean ‘justicate’ it?” She sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  I eyed Gabe, who gave no sign of thinking about an escape. If we had him arrested here, we’d lose track of him, and the local police would take Neil into custody as well.