by Lee Doty
Norma burst through Anne’s front door and interrupted a Scriabin piece, among Anne’s favorites. “Where’s Laney? I’ve got to see her. Now!”
“God, Norma. What’s happened to you? Your face. Your arm.”
Even though Norma had changed into a clean white T-shirt and tan drawstring pants, she still looked like she’d been in the ring. “I’ll fill you in later. Where’s Laney?” Without waiting for an answer she lunged toward the stairwell. “Laney?”
“No, Norma. She’s outside. I think she went out to find Bark for his bath. She’s probably looking for you. What’s going on?”
At the mention of her dog, Norma clenched the banister.
“Hey. Norma.”
“I’m sorry, Anne. I must sound like a nut. I had a bad night, as you can see, and ought to be lying down. I’ve got this bee in my bonnet about that man Laney found yesterday and want to ask her a few questions, that’s all. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.”
Only by extracting further assurances that Norma was all right and would return soon to explain, would Anne let her go.
Cutting behind the house, Norma sprinted toward the beach. Her arm hurt like hell.
“This sling is crap.” She flung it away.
Signs at the entrance to the beach directed dog walkers to use the beach path that paralleled the shore. She figured if Laney had gone to her house when she and Coigne were out back, she’d next try the dog path.
The sun was in her eyes, but shielding them with her good hand, she thought she made out a pink top and white shorts heading west.
“Laney!”
The wind carried her voice and the figure turned. As they drew closer, Norma could see the girl had been crying.
Laney grew limp in Norma’s arms as the gruff woman hugged her and patted her back. “Your Gran didn’t tell me you were upset.”
“I told her I was looking for Bark, but I was really looking for you. I need to tell somebody something, but I’m—what happened to you?”
“Forget about that. You’re what?”
Laney didn’t answer.
“Let’s go find a bench to sit on,” Norma said. “We can talk better if we’re watching sailboats.”
They left the path and mounted a steep hill to an overlook nicknamed Makeout Point. Norma bit her lip with each step and wondered whether she should have kept the sling. They emerged into a clearing and, to Norma’s relief, found an empty bench.
“Did Gran tell you about Mom and Mr. Crawford?”
“I didn’t give her a chance to tell me anything.”
Laney explained about her mom’s surprise visit, the marriage plans and the arguments at breakfast. Norma didn’t cross-examine, nor did she express her disapproval at the prospect of Laney’s living with her mom. Only when Laney finished her story did she start to probe.
“The man with your mom, you called him Mr. Crawford. Is that Kenneth Crawford, the big shot who owns Red River Resort?” She thumbed in the direction of the resort cottages and facilities sprawled along the beachfront.
“I think so. Mom called him Ken.”
“Hm.”
They watched a windsurfer sweep by.
“Do you know him, Aunt Norma?”
“I might.”
Norma wondered how the hell Gin Sager, Little Miss Debauchery, knew Ken Crawford. But maybe the twosome wasn’t that improbable. Back when she represented the Inn at Cockle Cove, Norma had heard of Ken Crawford. He’d been among the resort partners when Mary Temple sold her resort interest. There were rumors about him, that maybe he’d bullied his partners in some way. Nothing was ever proved, or at least nothing stuck, not because he was an honest person, they said, but because he was slick. She’d heard he was now one of just two partners who owned the resort.
Guys like Crawford would always be successful because they were clever, without qualm, and full of charm. It was the charm part that fascinated Norma. Having none of her own, she never succumbed to it in others. This immunity prevented her from understanding how others fell prey to it. But what in the world would a guy like Crawford see in Gin? Fixed up, Gin might be attractive, but men like Crawford were not vulnerable in that way. Besides, while Crawford might use arm candy for his own purposes, last time Norma saw Gin, she looked more like tooth decay.
There was a mystery here and the fact that it involved Laney aroused Norma’s protective instincts. She’d need to explore a tender subject like Laney’s mother with great care.
“What’s eating you, Laney? I should have thought you’d be pretty happy having your mom show up with plans to stay around.”
“I am. It’s just that I wish Gran and Mom could make up and live together, with me, at Gran’s house.”
Norma noted the omission of Mr. Crawford from the rosy fantasy.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, kid. I don’t see that happening. Your mom and Gran are too different. There’s so much history there, disappointment and misunderstanding, going both ways, I’d imagine.”
Laney gathered a wad of her hair into the side of her mouth. They both watched a gull glide overhead, a clam in its talons. It hovered over the nearby parking lot and dropped the clam. The maneuver failed to open the shell. The gull swooped in again, snapped up its payload, soared high and released. This time it worked.
The show over, Laney went on with her story. “There’s something else, something I forgot to tell everybody about the drowning. There was this man.” She stopped talking to rearrange the wad of hair in her mouth.
Norma wondered if this new habit would replace or coexist with the blinking. It was all she could do to keep from yanking the wad out of her mouth. “Go on.”
Laney told her about Sandal Man, including his showing up at the resort dining room.
Norma was on the verge of yelling, “You didn’t think to mention this? You could have been talking to the murderer!” But then she remembered, Laney had tried to tell her something when she was busy getting rid of Coigne yesterday and she suspected it was about Sandal Man. “Have you told your Gran yet?”
“I was going to, but she seems so upset about my mom and Mr. Crawford, I just can’t find the right time.”
Norma knew she was in no position to scold Laney for withholding important information. She too was holding onto facts relevant to Coigne’s investigation. The man who called her last night tied Laney’s name to the drowning. The caller may have been Sandal Man, except he didn’t have a foreign accent. Still, something about Laney’s description of Sandal Man struck her as familiar.
“Things are going to work out, Laney. We’ll talk to Gran and Lieutenant Coigne. He’s probably got Sandal Man in custody right now. What do you want to bet?”
11
Anne pressed her hand to her heart. She felt as if she were having a heart attack. Visits by her daughter tended to cause this sensation. All those years, Gordon had served as buffer between them. Now, she had to coach herself before an encounter with Gin just to maintain her calm. It was all too much: Gin’s sudden appearance with plans to marry Ken Crawford and reclaim Laney, a murder at their back door, the horrifying home invasion at Norma’s and to top it off, she’d just offended Norma.
Laney and Norma had returned from the beach and Laney retreated to her drums in the garage. Anne had hoped her granddaughter would play the piano, experiencing the same joy she’d felt the first time she’d recognized a ghost-like melody hiding in the base, or when she’d finally developed her technique so that the keys could sound like a river when played just so. But one day her granddaughter arrived home from school with a block of wood, drum sticks, and a surprising sense of rhythm. She still would have pushed Laney to give piano a chance except Norma convinced her not to. She said Laney found solace in pounding out a beat at ever-increasing tempos and to let her be. Anne consoled herself with the knowledge that at least drums, like the piano, were percussion instruments.
Norma joined Anne in the kitchen. They peeled potatoes at the sink while Norma fil
led her in on how she’d been injured and the trashing of her home. Anne stopped peeling when Norma told her of Bark’s death. She held her friend close until Norma said, “I’m okay. Let’s peel.”
“What the hell was this guy after, Norma?”
“Beats me.”
Norma’s quick answer made Anne wonder if she knew more than she was telling and it turns out, she did. After a long pause, Norma put down her potato. “The caller used Laney’s name. That’s how he convinced me to meet him. He knew she’d discovered the body.”
Anne threw down her potato. “How? How could he know?”
“I don’t know, exactly, but there’s more.” Norma told her about Sandal Man.
“Why did she tell you all this?”
“Is that really important now? The priority is to contact Coigne and fill him in.”
“Why didn’t you insist that we take Laney to his office yesterday? You should have known better. You’re the lawyer.”
Norma seemed paralyzed at first. Then she gathered her potato skins and dropped them into the trash.
“Norma, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“You know, criticizing my legal skills for a bad result is a bit like my criticizing your parenting skills. Do you want to go there or should we take Laney to see Coigne now?”
On the way to the Barracks, Norma contacted Coigne and gave him a vague outline of what they wanted to tell him. She also filled Anne and Laney in on how investigations work on the Cape, with the district attorney, or DA, assigning state troopers, like Lieutenant Coigne, to get to the bottom of things. She said sometimes the state troopers work with local police and anyone else who can help solve the crime. The tutorial over, everyone pursued their own thoughts and the drive seemed to take forever. The steady hum of Norma’s balding tires took the place of conversation.
Coigne met them at the entrance. “Norma. Ms. Sager.” He smiled at Laney. “Let’s go to my office.” He led them down a narrow, carpeted hallway. “How are you feeling now, Norma?”
“Dandy.”
Anne said, “Have you been able to identify the murder victim?”
“Let’s wait until we sit down, Ms. Sager.”
They arrived at a glass-paneled door. Coigne stepped aside to let Anne and Laney go in first. Norma made a scooting motion for him to precede her.
“Just so you know,” Norma said, “we’re here for an informal meeting to discuss some additional information that has only just come to light.”
“Understood.”
“So, Lieutenant Coigne, who was he?” Anne asked.
Coigne centered himself to face Anne. “Guy named Bradford Todd.”
She almost gasped. Did I hear him correctly? She struggled to hide her shock.
“They called him Buddy. A local guy, his family owned a lot of property for years, but they sold it, they died off, and he became a low-life drifter.”
Norma took over the questioning. “How old?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Interesting. Who identified him?”
“Skaket Seaside Inn contacted us. Said a guest had been with them for several months, then left without paying up and taking his things. Hotel clerk made a positive ID. Said Buddy Todd had talked with him about a meeting with a lawyer. Todd was super mad about something, according to the guy.”
“Who was the lawyer?”
“Dohnan? Know him?
“If it’s Derek Dohnan, I know him. He’s with Pissin’, Moanin’, Dunscombe and Dohnan.”
Coigne’s eyebrows shot up.
“Dunscombe and Dohnan. I made up the other names as a mnemonic—they fit so well. What else did you learn?”
Coigne hid a smile as he spoke about the steps his office had taken in the investigation, but gave little away about where those steps had led. Anne used the time to pull herself together. She’d have to tell Coigne and Norma how she knew Buddy Todd, but not with Laney in the room. She stole a look at her granddaughter, who was, thank God, showing no signs of anxiety.
Anne perused the spartan office. The only personal item was a photograph on the desk of a short man, probably in his sixties, wearing a police uniform. He had his arm around a boy who was squinting, probably facing the sun. She wondered if the boy was Coigne and if the man was his grandfather.
Coigne offered them coffee and soda. The accommodation and Coigne’s general courtesy surprised her, as their encounter in her living room the day before had been unpleasant. They accepted his peace offerings and Laney slipped out to the ladies’ room.
“Before you question Laney, I need to tell you something I forgot to mention.” Norma said that her caller the night before had mentioned Laney by name as the person who discovered the body.
“Forgot to mention? This pretty much confirms the break-in and assault on you was tied to the drowning. You should have said something sooner, Norma.”
Norma raised her hands in surrender. “I’m guilty of a bad memory. Shoot me.”
When Laney returned, Coigne softened his voice. “I understand you met a man on the beach, Laney. You call him Sandal Man. Tell us everything you can remember about the encounter. Let’s start with what he looked like.”
Coigne wasn’t taking notes and Anne hadn’t seen a recording device. He was probably trying to help Laney relax, but she thought he’d regret not jotting down some of Laney’s impressive detail.
So strange, the things young people remembered, things she never would have noticed. Laney said Sandal Man wore a watch with diamonds and a silver bracelet with a black stone. His sandals were well-worn but looked soft, with a circle brace for the big toe. She even described the man’s tie, which had a small sheep wrapped in a blanket.
Coigne said, “A sheep? Odd thing on a tie. May be worth pursuing.”
“You won’t find a tie like it on the Cape,” Anne said. “If I’m right, that sheep is the logo for Brooks Brothers. My father only wore—”
“Wait a minute,” Norma said. “I knew there was something about Laney’s description of Sandal Man that rang a bell. Almost ran into a guy dressed in business clothes yesterday afternoon. I called him ‘Brooks Brothers.’ I was too intent on getting my mail to give him much thought.”
Norma gave a run-down of the time and where the man had appeared to be headed, but had no other details.
“Go ahead, Laney,” Coigne said.
“We had breakfast at Red River Resort this morning. I think it was Sandal Man who came to our table but I didn’t get a good look at him then. I recognized his voice. I saw him later and he looked the same as on the beach, except he wasn’t wearing sandals.”
Coigne turned to Anne. “You were with your granddaughter. You must have seen him, too.”
“I barely looked at him. I was headed out of the dining room when he showed up.” She thought back and tried to picture him. Laney’s description of Sandal Man on the beach, dark skin, large brown eyes, and thin lips, could have been the man at the table. She couldn’t say it out loud but most dark-skinned men in business suits looked alike to her. “My granddaughter is giving you a better description than I can. I will say this: The man who can identify him would be my daughter’s fiancé, Ken Crawford. They spoke to each other, but Mr. Crawford didn’t even introduce him. I don’t think he wanted Sandal Man around.”
“Ken Crawford?” Coigne pushed on his desk, rolling his chair backwards. “You’re talking about the guy who owns Red River Resort?”
Anne could see he was disturbed. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, what’s the big deal about Crawford?” Norma asked.
Coigne didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled open his desk drawer and reached inside. His look of intense concentration turned into a smile. When he withdrew his hand it held three lollipops. He doled them out. “A reward for coming in.” He stood. “I am so sorry, ladies. I forgot the time. I’m afraid I’ve got to take another meeting. And Norma—give me a call later today.
Anne was furious. “Just like t
hat? He dismisses us without anything more than a-a sucker? How belittling.”
They were on their way back to Norma’s car. Laney had already unwrapped her lollipop and gone to drop the wrapper in a trash can. Norma was struggling with her wrapper, which was sticking to the green candy. “Oh hell.” She dropped it into her bag. “What did you expect, Anne?”
Anne had expected Coigne to praise them for coming forward. They were delivering a “person of interest” on a silver platter. “I’d hoped Coigne would get on the phone, then and there, get identification of the dark man from Ken Crawford and this ordeal would be over.”
“It’s not like a made for TV movie called, ‘Beach Murder,’ Anne. Think ‘Masterpiece Theater.’ The investigation may go on a long time.”
“And why, as we were leaving, do you suppose Coigne asked you to give him a call? I didn’t think you could tolerate each other.”
“How should I know?”
Anne pondered for the rest of the way home and was able to figure out two things. First, Coigne just wanted to talk further when Laney wasn’t around, about the possible tie-in between the drowned man and the assault on Norma the night before. That’s why he asked Norma to call him later. Second, based on Norma’s sulky, ‘how-should-I-know?’ response, she hadn’t quite forgiven Anne the earlier attack on her legal skills, obviously a sensitive subject for her right now.
12
Anne sighed at the sight of Gin’s car when they pulled into the driveway. She hoped Crawford wasn’t inside with her daughter. If he were, she’d have to tell him to contact the police about his chum, Sandal Man. And what kind of man was Ken Crawford, having such a colleague, or friend, or whatever he was?
Norma said she’d be in touch. Normally she’d toot her horn good-bye, but this time she just backed out of the driveway. Still miffed.
Gin was standing alone in the center of the living room, wine glass in hand, wine bottle half-empty. “I guess you’re happy now, Mother.” She didn’t appear to notice Laney. “You couldn’t stand to see me happy, could you? You had to scare him away.”
