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

by Bernadine Fagan

  Seconds later, Nick had the guy’s arms behind his back, and was cuffing him.

  The tarantella ended, and O Sole Mio drifted through the speakers. The music seemed to match the action.

  Nick escorted the two prisoners to the SUV and secured them in back. Just before we drove off, he reached for my hand, leaned over and whispered, “Lady, you are something else. You can be my wingman any time.”

  Pleased, I smiled. “I used to play Wonder Woman,” I whispered, lifting my wrists to ward off imaginary bullets.

  He brushed my lips, a feather-light kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes.

  “Ah, shit. We gotta watch this crap.”

  Nick spun around, yanked the prisoner forward by the collar, and said through clenched teeth, “Shut ya mouth. Hear me? You ruined my meal, plus, I gotta put up with your stink. You reek of weed.”

  “Marlboro Lights,” he declared.

  Nick released him and shoved him back. “The hell it is.”

  Hunky Miller with the twitch was on duty when we walked into the station house. He assisted with the prisoners, then gave us both the once over, his brows shooting up a notch.

  “Spaghetti, I see,” he said to Nick, nodding toward a stand dangling from his shirt pocket. “If you’d asked, I bet they would have given you one of those take-home bags.”

  NINETEEN

  I half-expected the aunts to be peeking out a window when we drove up, but Hannah’s car, a huge thing that was many years old, was gone and Ida never stayed up beyond ten, so I figured I was safe. To my chagrin, I was nervous when he stopped. Felt awkward. And I haven’t felt nervous or awkward around guys since college. No, make that high school.

  I expected to sit in the seat a while, perhaps say a few words, maybe fiddle with my purse.

  No such thing. Nick leaned over, cupped my neck with his palm and pulled me to him. The man wasn’t one for preliminaries, and that’s a fact. He kissed me, right smack on the mouth, a no-nonsense kiss that set my senses spinning. Now, I’m not saying that rockets went off or anything like that—I’m a realist—but the man did know how to kiss. It was one of those wet, smoochy affairs that you want to go on and on until it leads to other things. That thought made the sensible me pull back, but not too far, not too fast. I may be sensible, but I’m not a masochist.

  “This doesn’t mean anything more than friendship,” Nick murmured, his lips skimming down my neck.

  “I agree. We toasted to that,” I mumbled as I turned my head, giving him better access to my lips. “Platonic friends,” I murmured into his mouth.

  “Two buddies,” he agreed. “Out for an evening on a non-date.”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  After a few minutes of this, my sensible side kicked in and I reached back for the door handle.

  “Good night, Pal,” I muttered, as I got out and stood on jello legs.

  * * *

  It was a clear September day, a perfect day, warm, deep blue, the kind of day that makes a person feel blessed to be alive, the kind of day that makes you want to stop by the side of the road, hop out of the car, and run through a field, arms wide, face to the heavens.

  It was not the kind of day a person wanted to go to a funeral.

  Yet here I was, driving the three aunts in Hannah’s 1965 dark teal Pontiac GTO with the black leather interior. She insisted I try it out. It was a boat of a car. But power. With a touch of the gas pedal I threw everyone back in their seats, rocket-takeoff style. G-forces at work. Not being the best driver on the road, I was super cautious.

  “V-8 engine,” Hannah explained before I asked. “They called it a muscle car. It was my husband’s favorite.”

  I was shaky by the time I braked to a stop in front of the funeral home. I’d made it without incident, hadn’t hit a tree, a person, or an animal.

  The aunts were in black today, traditional mourning clothes. As I got out of the car, I saw the Collins family, also in black.

  “I’m glad to see that,” Agnes commented as she huffed and puffed her way out of the back seat. “It’s only proper. In the old days, widow’s weeds were common.”

  Ida must have seen my questioning look, so she explained, “That’s what we used to call the mourning clothes that widows wore. Some widows would dress in black for years after their husbands died.”

  Agnes finally made it out. Straightening her dress, she commented, “I wore this dress when my husband passed away a few years back. I’ve had to let the seams out since. Dry cleaning shrinks things, you know.”

  “You should sue.” Hannah advised, adjusting her black knitted shawl.

  “Blue?” Agnes questioned. “Why should I wear blue? Black is for mourning.”

  “Agnes, that hearing aid works best when you take it out of the drawer,” Ida said, brushing a speck of lint off her black polyester dress.

  I listened without comment, my thoughts on the people around us. It looked as if the whole town had turned out. Percy and Mary Fran stood with two salesmen from the Auto Mart, all dressed in their Sunday best. Percy checked his watch and looked around. I followed his gaze, wondering if he was looking for Marla. Maybe he’d give himself away and I’d be lucky enough to find out who she was.

  Michelle Gray, 8011a0920. Phil Clinton, 401p0925.

  The names and numbers were committed to memory. Percy was up to something bad, and I suspected it paled beside his unfaithfulness to his wife.

  Mary Fran saw me and nodded. Percy looked right through me, pretending, I suppose, that I didn’t exist. I’m sure he wished I didn’t. It made me a little nervous to think he suspected I was up to something in his office. I’d put the paper back exactly where I found it. He probably didn’t buy the idea that I hadn’t realized my cell was charged. Or maybe he had. To reinforce the idea, I tossed my head, sending my streaky blond locks sailing around. I selected one lock, and twirled it, twit-like, of course, as I gazed around.

  Aunt Ellie arrived alone and parked across the street. She wore a black warm-up suit. Amy from the luncheonette pulled up in back of her. She wore an ecru blouse that scooped low enough to show hills and valleys. Her skirt was black, in deference to the occasion, I figured.

  I didn’t want to feel excited about all this, but I couldn’t help it. Such intrigue. And I was going to catch some of it on camera. I was certain all would go smoothly. I hadn’t told Nick what I intended to do. No reason to alarm him.

  As the aunts chatted with neighbors, I smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments, while continuing to check the new arrivals. I fingered the compact Canon PowerShot in my pocket, the one with the powerful zoom lens. The big Canon was too obtrusive to use.

  “Ida, I’m going to the ladies’ room,’ I announced. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  I strode purposely across the lawn, and into the funeral parlor. Once inside, head down, I dodged the mourners, and found the door that led to the back parking lot.

  No one here. I skirted the hearse and checked out both sides of the building. On the left, I spotted a broad-trunked tree, one big enough to hide behind. If I could get there without being seen, I’d be okay. I waited until I thought no one was watching, then dashed to the tree. Puffing from nerves more than physical exertion, I pulled out the camera and started snapping. After a while I sprinted to another tree, another angle, and got more people. The whole town must be here.

  I watched Nick watching people. He looked sharp in his uniform with the razor-creased khaki slacks, the dark brown jacket with the transmitter clipped on the shoulder, and the sun glinting off the six-pointed star on his chest. Naturally my thoughts flew to last night, but I quickly diverted them as more people arrived. I needed to concentrate.

  The funeral parlor was crowded when I finally went inside, standing room only. I stood next to the door where I could see everyone. Since I was a visitor to Silver Stream, I figured this looked okay. Natural, in fact.

  From his seat across the room, Percy gazed around, nodded ever so slightly at someone. I
followed his line of vision. Four women sat together, their backs to me. I couldn’t tell which one he’d made eye contact with. Librarian Margaret, Waitress Amy, Vivian the Pomeranian lady, and Aunt Ellie. Ellie? Good God. I think not. She was too old. But the others? What was going on? Was he having an affair with someone besides Marla?

  “Snap one more picture and I’ll confiscate that damn camera,” Nick whispered. I’d never heard him come up behind me.

  “It’s a free country,” I whispered back, feeling a chill of excitement race up my spine. “You can’t take my camera.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Try me.”

  “I was well hidden,” I whispered. “How did you make me?”

  “Make? That cop talk?”

  I smiled, but still didn’t turn around. “How?”

  “You were going from tree to tree like the Roadrunner. I’m a trained observer. Do the math.”

  “You were looking for me,” I said smugly.

  “Could be.” He poked me in the back.

  The minister began to speak and the room quieted, became eerily silent. About two minutes into his eulogy, the Toreador March blasted from my purse and a hundred heads swiveled my way. Eyes wide, the minister paused. He stared in my direction. So did all the mourners, every last one of them. I rummaged in my sack of a purse for the cell as tinny march music filled the room. I used to be organized. What happened? I came to Maine is what happened. Where was that damn phone?

  Behind me, Nick sighed. “Maybe I should take a picture of this,” he whispered.

  I finally found the cell, and turned it off.

  I saw Hannah roll her eyes, and Ida shake her head. Aunt Agnes probably hadn’t heard.

  “Lori calling,” I whispered over my shoulder when the minister resumed his talk.

  At the grave site I stood back by the cars. Good thing I had a four-gigabyte disk in my camera. More people here than at the funeral parlor.

  For the most part Nick ignored me, but I saw him glance my way off and on, a faux-threatening look on his face. I smiled back.

  Before it was over, Mary Fran grabbed my arm. “I can’t stand this. Knowing Percy’ll see his slut this afternoon … I want to say something, tell him I’m on to him.” She shook her head. “No. Let me be totally frank. I want to mash his freaking head with a hammer.”

  “That sounds worse than cutting off his body parts.”

  This was the Mary Fran I remembered, the violent Mary Fran of my childhood.

  “Don’t,” I cautioned. “You’d never get the money and that’s the best revenge. Hang in there. Go back to work and let me do my job. I’ll bring you the pictures.”

  * * *

  I wondered about the possibility of ticks as I hid in the woods alongside Kendall’s driveway, waiting for Marla the slut to make an appearance. A person could get a disease being in these woods. Bugs could crawl up a person’s leg. You had to be careful. I swatted at a swarm of gnats and hunkered down. I checked my watch. It was almost three. Marla was late. Naughty Marla.

  I waved my hand to disperse the cloud of gnats, but they continued to swarm back. I think they liked the spot I was occupying. Maybe it was their spot and I was the intruder.

  Low-hanging, dark clouds had replaced the beautiful morning weather. If it got any darker the pictures might not come out well at this distance, but moving closer would be risky. I had my big camera this time, the one with the new high-powered lens that cost more than the camera. I tested it. Took a few shots of the house. Okey-doke. Not too dark yet. I turned off the automatic flash. Couldn’t have that lighting up.

  The gnats were a nuisance. I waved my hand through the swarm again. They disappeared, but were back seconds later circling my head.

  I wore a huge old green and brown mottled army fatigue shirt that I’d found in the closet, so I blended in nicely with my surroundings. Ten minutes later I heard the front door bang and I looked through the lens. Percy stormed out wearing … what on earth? It looked like an old-fashioned, little-boy outfit with short pants, a bow tie, knee socks. Geez.

  The whole getup made me want to yell, Where’s your pinwheel hat? Oh, I needed a shot of this. I waved the gnats away, and snapped a few shots.

  Percy paraded to the end of the driveway and scanned the road. The impatient lover? A guy’s got to be pretty brave to come out of the house looking like that. It didn’t take imagination to figure out what sex game was slated for today. I couldn’t help wondering whether he played these games with Mary Fran, too.

  Percy stomped back, stopped directly opposite me, and placed a call on his cell. Great spot. Perfect.

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  A pause.

  One of his socks slipped down when he stamped his foot.

  I wished he were on a speaker phone so I could hear her side of the conversation. Percy turned away and I missed what he said. I crawled closer. More gnats.

  “You’ve never been late. You playing games?” Percy hollered.

  If he’d continue to talk this loud, I’d hear just fine.

  But, no. I missed the next thing he said and was forced to inch closer. Then it happened.

  Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod! A gnat flew up my nose.

  I leaned forward, exhaled sharply with my mouth closed. No good. Still there. Damn gnat. I sat down and stuck my finger in my nose, probing. Had it gone to my lungs? Where were all the cilia I learned about in biology class? They were supposed to prevent this sort of thing. I blew my nose into the sleeve of the shirt.

  “Yes, I saw you at the funeral, sitting with those—” Percy turned away and I didn’t catch the rest of what he said. Did he mean when he nodded toward the women? Was one of them Marla? But Amy, Vivian, Margaret and Aunt Ellie were together. Not a Marla in the bunch.

  The gnat was still in place and his buddies were swarming around looking for him.

  “Since when does the likes of you hang around with—” He turned again and I missed the name.

  Percy listened, his face reddening.

  Sticking my head in my blouse to muffle the sound, I blew my nose again.

  “You can keep your fucking buyers’ list.” he yelled. “I don’t intend to meet those guys. I told you that. I’m not getting involved in this shit. I’ve done enough. Look at Collins.”

  Look at Collins?

  Was that Percy’s involvement? Murdering his partner?

  My mouth dropped open and my hands began to shake. These two were definitely involved in something that Collins had been shot over.

  The buyer’s list? Was that the list I’d seen in his office?

  I inched closer, exhaling sharply through my nose.

  “Is this why you came on to me? Through Al to me?” Percy demanded, pacing like an angry bull.

  I missed the next thing he said.

  The gnat seemed to have shifted. It was still in there. I made snorting sounds into my camera bag to muffle the sound. My lungs demanded air, and I inhaled reflexively. The gnat zipped through the canals and caught in my throat

  “Yaaah.” Disgusting. I spit it out. “Te-eew, te-eew, eeuck.” I wiped my tongue on my sleeve.

  Percy stopped suddenly, facing me. I flattened myself on the ground, lying in twigs and leaves and heaven only knows what else. I am not a woods’ person, and that’s an absolute. I shivered just thinking about the creatures that were probably crawling over me. The gnat had been bad enough.

  “Who’s there?” Percy bellowed in my direction. He slipped his phone into his pocket, and I put my head to the ground, trembling beneath the leafy underbrush, hoping his eyesight was poor, hoping I was well hidden, hoping I would miraculously think of some way to escape if he came looking.

  Small branches crackled and popped as Percy stepped into the underbrush. I had a flash of Collins with a bullet hole in his head, and wondered whether Percy had a gun. I had to make a run for it.

  I jumped up, scraped my cheek on a branch and felt my shirt rip
. The need for self-preservation propelled me forward. I bounded like a deer, hopping over dead trees, shoving branches aside, stepping into who-knows-what.

  Coming to Maine was a big mistake.

  Behind me, I heard Percy crashing through brush, hot on my trail. He was a big man. I didn’t take the time to look back, even when I heard a really big crash.

  I think he fell.

  I hoped he fell.

  TWENTY

  By the time I pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office, I had finger-combed most of the forest debris from my hair, plastered tissue to the scrape on my cheek, and brushed something suspicious, maybe moose caca, off these ridiculous camouflage pants. I didn’t care about my appearance, a first for me, not counting the Dumpster episode, of course. The other first, almost being attacked by a killer, overshadowed everything. I have my priorities.

  “Where’s Nick?” I asked deputy Miller as I approached the big desk.

  To his credit he didn’t comment on my appearance. I suppose he was getting used to it. Last night chocolate mousse, this afternoon forest debris. And I used to be so careful. I didn’t like what was happening to me. I had to get back to the old me. The neat me. The fashion-conscious, New York City me.

  “What the hell happened? Who did this?” Nick demanded as he strode from his office, his expression stony as he studied my face. “You’re bleeding.”

  He took my arm and led me toward his office. Over his shoulder he ordered, “Miller, earthquakes or murders only.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I was in the woods by Kendall’s,” I told him as soon as he closed the door.

  “And?” he asked tightly.

  “Percy was supposed to meet Marla and I was on hand with my camera.”

  “Percy did this?”

  “No. I was hiding. Then a gnat flew up my nose and I tried to dislodge it and Percy heard me, so I ran. He didn’t see who I was. I’m almost sure of that.”

  “Damnit all, Nora.”