Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream

by Bernadine Fagan

  The sun tipped the treetops, casting a reddish-orange glow over everything. I felt my breath catch. The years fell away. I was a child again. I was safe. I was in my own room.

  My eyes suddenly filled with tears. That mushy side that I usually manage to keep hidden leaked out. Aunt Ellie left me alone. Whether she’d noticed or not, I wasn’t sure.

  I snatched one of my cousin’s tissues, dabbed my eyes and blew my nose. Then I took a good look around. My cousin had a flare for decorating. Lots of beige and white and muted shades of blue, a dresser full of pictures in assorted frames, mosaic-tiled tables, an old fashioned secretary with horse statues in ceramic and brass and copper. The room looked better than when I lived here. For just the briefest moment I wished I were a child again and life were simpler.

  Back downstairs, composed, I had a cup of coffee and some lemon cake with Ellie.

  “I’d like to talk to you about my mother. You were both around the same age, both friends. Can you tell me more about what happened back when they left? Any specifics?”

  “I can tell you it shouldn’t have happened,” she said immediately. I had the feeling she was happy to talk about someone else’s troubles, so I pressed on.

  “What did the sexual harassment involve?”

  “I don’t know why your mother didn’t tell you. What’s the big deal with the way the world is going these days?”

  She folded her arms and leaned forward. “Some of it was my fault. We were young. Free-spirited. Your Mom was having problems with your father.”

  Free-spirited? My mother? We were talking about the same woman?

  “She told me your father didn’t find her attractive any more. They hadn’t had sex in months. It was my idea for her to make him jealous.”

  The impulse to cover my ears was strong. I didn’t want to hear about my parents’ sex life. At all.

  “We went shopping. I helped her pick out a few outfits, all sexy things your father would disapprove of, but maybe be turned on by. The black leather pants and the really short skirt were the best.”

  “I can’t picture my mother in black leather. No way.”

  “She looked spectacular. She had a great figure, like you. The kind guys love.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She wore the slacks to work one day. Just once. After that, there were remarks on a regular basis, more than remarks. The boss grabbed her several times. I guess he considered her fair game. Said she was advertising it.”

  “So why didn’t she just tell this jerk off? Or claim sexual harassment and sue? Or leave? What was the big deal?”

  “Back then, that would have been unusual, especially around here. For one thing, she wanted to keep her job, and opposing the boss was not the way to do that. The term political correctness hadn’t been coined yet. Things are different today. Back then a man could get away with a lot more.”

  “My dad didn’t do anything?”

  “Oh, he did. He beat him up.”

  Omigod.

  “Who was the man? I recall Mom working part-time at the library for a while. What man worked there? I don’t remember any.”

  “I don’t remember any man working there either. But what does it matter? The harassment business happened at Kendall’s Auto Mart. Your mother had just gotten the job. The S-O-B involved was old man Kendall.”

  “Percy’s father?” I asked on a wisp of breath.

  “The one and only.”

  FIFTEEN

  I needed to get back to New York City soon. I’d been without gainful employment for a month now, the last week of which had been spent dawdling around my old hometown, checking out a Dumpster, hiding under a bed, finding a dead body, buying a truck, and such. Not my bailiwick. Not the kind of activity I expected when I drove up here, that’s for sure.

  Of course, none of this compared to finding out that Mom had suffered sexual harassment at the hands of Percy’s father, and then the guy had been murdered. No wonder the aunts didn’t want to talk about it.

  I had thought about it for a good part of the night. It had kept me awake. I wanted to call Mom and talk about it. Tell her she was not to blame, if that’s what she thought. Tell her I understood why we had moved. But Mom was a hard person, at least when it came to me. She never let up on me, I guess because she thought I never measured up to her high standards. When Whatshisname moved in with me, she outright refused to talk to me. Howie could handle this better.

  Before taking my shower—I wasn’t in any hurry to subject my body parts to that icy water—I went over my résumé and made a few minor changes. I’d fax it back to Lori today. Then I’d call and tell her about my new truck and about how great her timing was yesterday.

  I finally mustered the courage to jump in the shower. I soaped up like I was going for the gold in an Olympic lathering race, rinsed off, and hopped out just as the water was turning really, really cold. Shivering, I slipped on my sky blue bra and matching lace panties. I pulled on black Guess jeans, a blue, pointed-collar blouse that matched my eyes perfectly, and a pair of black leather ankle boots with a low heel.

  I worked in a bit of gel, then used the blow dryer till my hair fell softly around my face. I added color and a bit more shape to my brows, and a touch of mascara to my lashes. They were too short and too light to leave as nature intended. Nature makes mistakes. I correct them. I finished up with my lipstick brush. Since I blended my own colors, this took a while. Some things are not meant to be rushed.

  Before heading downstairs for breakfast I studied the paper I’d written yesterday in Percy’s office. Michelle Gray. Her numbers were 8011a0920. The second name was Phil Clinton, 401p0925.

  I had no idea what these numbers meant, or who these people were. I thought the number immediately before the a or p might refer to a time. A.M or P.M.? Was Percy supposed to know the times for something that was going to happen? I wondered, too, if this was connected to his partner’s death. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to find out who gave him this paper. I also had to show Nick.

  I headed downstairs, wondering whether the uncles had been in the back room when Percy arrived at the Country Store. Before I hit the bottom step, I inhaled the delicious aroma of apples cooking. Ida stood at the stove stirring a pot of oatmeal. Before coming here, I only used oatmeal that came in the paper envelope that you heated in the microwave with water. This was a new world up here.

  “Aunt Ida, I want to take you home with me.”

  “Just about done, Nora,” she said as she stirred some of her freshly made chunky apple sauce into the oatmeal.

  Oh, God, how good was this. I’d sure miss it when I left. I’d miss her lots more. I kissed her lined cheek and set the table.

  One of the Law and Order reruns was playing on the kitchen television.

  After breakfast, I called the uncles and asked each of them if they’d been in the Country Store yesterday, hoping they may have seen who Percy met. They’d seen Percy say hello to Margaret and Vivian, who were chatting with the waitress. One other guy they didn’t recognize also stopped by briefly. No one knew whether Percy spoke to the guy or not.

  I drove Ida to the library in my new truck. She loved it.

  “Isn’t this something. You in a silver truck.” She dabbed a tear from her eye. “This is the answer to my prayers. Now I know you’re going to stay.”

  “Aunt Ida, I needed something to drive. That’s why I got this. It doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sh-ur.”

  I knew she didn’t believe me.

  She sniffed for what I hoped was the last time.

  When I pulled up in front of the library, I said, “Ida, I haven’t discussed selling the land with you and the relatives yet, but I want to. Maybe today. I’m thinking I’ll either sign it over to one of you, or sell it and give you any profit after a few repairs are made on the house, like a new hot water heater.”

  Just saying that out loud made me feel a weight had been lifted from my shoulder
s. When she didn’t respond, I went on, “I’ll visit often, I promise. But my life is back in New York.”

  “I understand.”

  She did? How easy was that. Too easy. She still wasn’t buying it. After we talked deeds and details, she’d believe. A part of me was sorry I couldn’t stay. Maine wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as I’d expected. I hadn’t seen a moose at all.

  The weight of Great-grandma Evie’s request still pressed on my heart. Somehow, I’d try to fix what she asked me to fix. Grandma Evie, I said silently, I’ll get Howie and Mom up here yet for a visit, I promise. Get them back in the fold.

  “Aunt Ida, Ellie told me about the sexual harassment business with my mother. So I know.” I pulled into the library lot and parked. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I waited for her reaction.

  “It was a long time ago,” Ida said. “Does no good to rake up old dirt.”

  That said, she opened the door. “I best be getting these books back and pick out seven new mysteries. I do love my mysteries.”

  When she was out of the truck, she leaned in and said, “If I hear anything out of the ordinary today, I’ll check out who’s doing the talking.”

  “Good idea.” I smiled at her, but my heart wasn’t in it. She still didn’t want to talk about my parents.

  I had to pick up a new disk for the Canon Rebel. Tomorrow afternoon I planned to wind up the Mary Fran business, and I didn’t want any other pictures on the card. I would use my new lens. I hadn’t used it before, so I was looking forward to that.

  The Country Store was close enough to the library that I could have walked, but I didn’t, not with my new truck, and all. This was the first vehicle I’d ever owned and I wanted to drive it everywhere before it came time to sell.

  Percy’s days were numbered. Marla’s, too. I’d love to get a shot of them doing the dirty, to really nail it for Mary Fran. I pictured sneaking into the house, catching them in bed. Too risky. I’d never do that.

  As I opened the door to the Country Store, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to take pictures at the funeral. I could use the small pocket-size digital. It would be unobtrusive. I’d seen movies where the murderer showed up for a burial. Even though I was ninety percent sure that Percy was the killer, there was still that ten percent chance that it was someone else.

  The store was almost empty. Amy was taking a break, sitting at a back booth across from some guy. She got up when she saw me.

  “Hi, Nora. Can I help you?”

  How nice to walk into a store and be recognized. “I just need a memory card for my camera, a four-gig would be good.

  Amy pointed me in the right direction. “Taking photos, are you? The leaves will be in full color in another few weeks. That’s quite a sight.”

  “I’m going back to New York City. I probably won’t be around for that,” I said as I took what I needed and placed it on the counter. “I’ll have to do my picture-taking before then.”

  My hand was on the door, when I turned and asked, “Amy, did you know the senior Percy, the one who was murdered?”

  She gave me a strange look.

  No one gets murdered in Silver Stream. This here’s always been a safe place to live.

  She had said that to me the day I found Al Collins, but when I reminded her about the other murder, she had remembered it.

  “Not really. I knew who he was and all, like the other kids. I was in high school at the time. I remember we all thought Mister Kendall must have done something really bad to be murdered the way he was.”

  “With a bat?”

  “Yup. His head was bashed in. So were his privates.”

  * * *

  Margaret was checking out Ida’s books as I walked up to the big oak desk. The librarian, dressed in a navy polyester suit and the neatest, crispest, most wrinkle-free white blouse on the planet, smiled perfunctorily at me. I don’t think she liked me. Perhaps she suspected I had the Lincoln book.

  I figured she was old enough to have known something about the first Auto Mart murder. The fact that both murders involved men who worked in the same place was a coincidence too huge to be ignored. People had to be talking about it.

  “Margaret, what do you remember about the murder of the senior Percy Kendall at the Auto Mart?”

  Margaret’s pale cheeks colored. Her eyes flashed when she spoke. “I know nothing. Just because I dated someone who worked there at the time, people thought I knew something. I didn’t. I don’t. And I don’t appreciate you interrogating me about the murder.”

  Interrogating?

  I caught myself before I took a step back in reaction to her sharp retort. I forced myself to stay rooted, and not look at Ida who had taken a step back. Instead of leaving, or at least dropping the topic, I pushed. “You dated someone from there? Who?”

  Her chest heaved and I thought she wasn’t going to answer. “My husband, deceased now.”

  Surprised, I said, “I’m sorry.” I waited a beat. “Your husband must have talked about the murder. What did he say?”

  Margaret pressed her lips together, and I expected her to remain silent. She did the unexpected and said in a cool voice, “He told me what everyone knew, that Mister Kendall was a harsh man. He was the boss, after all, and he ran a tight ship. Few employees liked him, including his own son.”

  “The present Percy worked there then?”

  “Yes. Part time.”

  “And they didn’t get along?”

  “No one got along with that old man,” Margaret said. “That’s what my husband told me. I believe he used words like louse and skirt-chaser to describe Mister Kendall. That’s what everyone called him, even his son.”

  “Nora, we best be going,” Ida said as she picked up her books, clearly uncomfortable.

  Without prompting, Margaret added, “His murder was a hard thing for this good community, but the truth was that no one really mourned the man. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  As soon as we got in the car, Ida said, “You shouldn’t be asking about this, Nora. Brings back a lot of bad memories for folks. Margaret was upset. She’s a nice woman, a widow. She’s had a rough time of it, what with her husband sick for so long before he died.”

  SIXTEEN

  After dropping Ida off, I drove back to the sheriff’s office to fax my résumé. Nick was behind the desk when I walked in. He leaned forward and peered down, his forearms resting on the desk. What a picture he made. Even though I barely knew him, I decided I would probably miss him. Correction. I knew I’d miss him. There are some men who attract with looks alone, and others whose magnetism extends beyond their good looks. Nick was one of the latter.

  Good thing I wasn’t in the market for a new relationship or I’d really regret leaving the Maine woods.

  “Afternoon Ma’am. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, officer,” I replied, sweet as spun sugar. Well, I could still flirt at bit. I wasn’t dead, just guy-shy. “I have a résumé that needs faxing and I heard there was a very cooperative and competent sheriff in this department who would love to be of assistance. Do you know how I could … contact him?”

  Nick’s brows shot up. “Why, I surely do, Ma’am. And you’ll be happy to know the charge will be … minimal.”

  We stared at each other. Sexy devil. With his dark hair and dark eyes. Nice lips, too. They probably worked their magic on a few lucky women.

  “Shall I come up there, or will you come down here?”

  “I’ll come down.” A predatory smile.

  It had been a long time since a man made me nervous. I was nervous now. No, maybe excited was more accurate. Then he put his hand on my neck. A gentle touch. Nothing more. I felt juices flowing that hadn’t flowed in a while. Dear God. Talk about the magic touch. Did he know what he was doing to me? Probably. Right here in the damn sheriff’s office station. I was ready to melt. Core meltdown.

  He removed his hand, smiled. “Follow me.”

  Anywhere.

  He led m
e to the back section, pointed to the fax machine. “Help yourself. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks.”

  When I returned, he was talking to his two officers, skinny Trimble and hunky Miller, and he barely looked at me. They finally nodded and left.

  Hot Nick had disappeared, and cop Nick had replaced him, all efficient and official, even when we were alone. I stood there waiting for him to speak as he read some report. It should come as no surprise that sheriff’s work was more important than I was. I’d learned that as a kid, hadn’t I?

  So why did it hurt?

  Unbidden, came a memory of my junior prom night. Dad was supposed to take pictures. I had saved my own money to buy the gown, and it was a beauty, beige satin and soft tulle. My mother said it was too extravagant. “Over the top, Nora. This is a disgrace, spending money so foolishly. You should have saved that money for college. Instead, you’ve wasted it on one dress. And shoes.” She had badgered me off and on the whole time I was getting dressed. I held on, kept the tears at bay, because I knew that when I walked into the living room Dad would look at me with approval and best of all, with love.

  Just as I opened my bedroom door to make my entrance, the phone rang and within seconds Dad called, “Nora, I have to leave. It’s important. A case we’ve been working on.” In a heartbeat, he was gone. The case was more important than my prom. More important than me.

  If ever I felt myself falling for Nick, I’d make it a point to resurrect that moment. I quickly dismissed it from my thoughts, but it was harder to dismiss the feelings it left in its wake. In that moment I decided Nick Renzo would be a friend. Period. With that decision, my nerves quieted, the pounding pulse at my neck returned to something resembling normal, and my sweaty palms dried up. Well, almost.

  Nick finished reading and turned to me.

  “Sorry about this,” he said, holding up the papers in his hand. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been waiting for this lab report on a fiber found at the murder site. Might belong to the killer.”