by Lee Doty
“Why are you bothering me with this pathetic accusation? The guy was senile. He’d been senile for years. Everyone knows that. He probably wrote a hundred letters about his intentions. So what?”
“Really, Dohnan. Hyperbole makes you sound desperate. And wipe your mouth.” She made a face and pushed a box of Kleenex toward him. “You’ve got foam.”
She gave him a moment to absorb what he’d just said, but it was clear he wasn’t getting it. “Listen, brain-dead cretin, you signed conveyance documents on Old Man Todd’s behalf in the sale of Samoset Way beach access to Red River, and you did so with a general power of attorney executed at about the same time. Remember, I’ve been through your files. If he was senile for years, your POA was no good and the sale was no good.”
“He wasn’t nuts when he sold the property. The old man went senile a year or so after the sale. That’s probably when he wrote whatever letter you’re talking about.”
“Do your homework. He died just a week after the sale, which is an interesting coincidence, but we’ll leave that well-timed death for another day. Admit it. He never knew you sold the property out from under him, although he probably suspected you were a thief or he would have copied you on his letter to Buddy.”
“Nonsense! When we sold the property to Red River Resort, he forgot he’d intended the property for his grandchild, or he changed his mind.”
“I have another explanation.” Norma stopped rocking. “You didn’t know he’d written the letter. Somewhere along the line Old Man Todd stopped trusting you. Anyway, he was too busy dying of cancer to notice when you sold his property. I guess you didn’t want to worry him about it, huh?”
Dohnan grabbed his car keys and leaned forward. “You’re nuts, Norma. Those sale documents are all properly signed and witnessed.”
“No doubt by your notarious nephew, Carl, which would explain his guaranteed for life employment.”
“None of this is any of your business.”
“What a shock it must have been for you when Mary Temple sold away her interest in Red River Resort, after all the trouble you’d gone to for her sons. Hope they hadn’t already paid you, but perhaps they didn’t have to. Bank records will show where proceeds from the sale of Samoset Way wound up.”
“You want to talk about senile, Norma, let’s talk about it. Mary Temple had no idea she was practically giving away her Red River interest, and her sons had every right to be upset when she sold it. Talk about malpractice; overlooking that right of first refusal language was a doozy.”
“Doozy. Legal term? And that brings me back to why you threatened to file the lawsuit.
“Dear God, why did I threaten to file the lawsuit?”
“Same reason you ransacked my home.”
“Why?”
“You drafted suit papers simply so I’d gather my files in one place for review. For all you knew, they were kept offsite with a record storage company. That’s what most lawyers do with their closed files. You needed all my files, computer documents and hard copies, where you could get at them. You tossed my home, or had someone do it for you, because somehow you knew I represent Anne Sager in all her affairs, and she might have given me a copy of Old Man Todd’s letter. Buddy Todd, fresh out of rehab, found the letter and made the mistake of confronting you about selling off his dad’s property, which, by the way, gives you a damn solid motive for murdering him. You weren’t sure I had a copy, but you couldn’t take a chance that I’d get hold of it, because I might wonder, just like I’m doing now, why the same property intended for Todd’s granddaughter was sold to Red River Resort. You had to search my files and my house, and destroy my computer, too. By the way, every good attorney makes a backup. Make a note of that.”
“No one will believe you, Norma.” Dohnan was doing some heavy breathing and he wasn’t even on the treadmill. “First of all, you don’t represent Anne Sager in all her affairs. She uses Bitty Booty, that is, Bitty Buchanan for these types of matters, so why would I want to go through your files? Where’s the motive? I’d ransack Anne Sager’s files, or Bitty’s, not yours.”
“You would have ransacked Anne’s files, only she’s had state troopers crawling all over her place since the Buddy Todd drowning. And as for Bitty, I’m sure you’ve searched every inch of her.”
“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Dohnan lifted his windbreaker off its hook and charged toward the door.
He did look beaten up, but Norma wasn’t through with him yet. She reached into her bag. “Don’t go yet.” She turned on her cell phone and clicked. “You shouldn’t have asked for that second scotch.” They both then listened to the video recording.
“We’re not asking you for much. We’re simply asking you not to contradict us if you’re called as a witness against Red River Resort for swindling Mrs. Temple out of her partnership interest. In return, we won’t sue you for overlooking the right of first refusal provision.”
“Of course they didn’t swindle her out of her interest. You’re asking me to lie under oath. This sounds like extortion and suborning perjury. Am I on the right track?”
“That’s the idea.”
When Norma stopped the video, she said, “I already sent this to the DA, so don’t get stupid. I don’t care whether or not you swindled Old Man Todd. The law will catch up with you. I do care that you killed my dog. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re convicted of Buddy Todd’s murder.”
“For God’s sake, Norma. Where do you get this stuff?”
“You had plenty of motive. You had to silence Buddy.”
“I’m going to say this once. I never killed anyone. You start spreading that rumor around and I may have to amend that statement. Now get the hell out.”
Norma headed down the hallway with Dohnan close on her heels. She’d hoped to see more signs of guilt when she accused him of murdering Buddy Todd and was disappointed to find none. But something he’d said wasn’t sitting well with her. Not well at all.
41
Coigne left Postal I Scream, cell phone pressed to his ear. Trooper Katepoo was letting him know a call had come in from a Louise “Wheezy” Wickersham.
“I know who she is. I ran into her the day Laney Sager discovered the body on the beach. She’s the kind who thrives on another’s adversity, and probably causes it.”
“She says she’s seen a stranger around Samoset Bluff Lane who, I think, fits the description of Rahul Singh.”
“Good. Her call might confirm what I think Singh’s up to.”
Coigne filled Katepoo in on his conversation with Norma about the likelihood Singh would search the Sager house for the letter. They agreed to meet at Sandy’s Hardware Store near Samoset Way and come up with a plan.
He reached Anne Sager to get permission for Laney to go out with the harbormaster and while at it, asked her to contact Miller to get permission for Isabella. Coigne figured the guy would be less likely to say no if Anne did the asking. Cowardly, true, but Coigne didn’t feel the need to waste courage on someone like him.
He was glad to have young Katepoo on the case. Other guys chided Jimmy for his stilted manner and lack of interest in blow-by-blow recaps of ball games and hot dates, but Coigne valued his dedication and willingness to learn.
Sandy’s Hardware Store was a small white clapboard building in the shade of a gnarled oak tree on Route 28. The black paint on the storefront sign had peeled so badly all you could see was ndy’s ardwa Sto. The display window was filled with small appliances and tools dusty enough to have sat there since 1950. The store opened during the summer and made one or two sales a week at prices so high, in Coigne’s opinion, one or two sales was enough.
Trooper Katepoo pulled in and crossed the gravel drive to Coigne’s cruiser. The young man immediately laid out the plan he’d devised on the way over.
“The problem for the suspect is to get into Sager’s without attracting attention. I noticed when we were first working on the Buddy Todd murder that one side of the Sager
house is completely hidden behind this huge wall of rhododendrons. It’s a good fifteen feet high.” He stretched his arm above his head. “And it’s a solid green wall. Behind it are Bilco doors that open onto a stairway to the basement. Singh will figure his best bet for getting into the house undetected is behind that green wall. We call Ms. Sager and have her “accidentally” leave the Bilco doors unlocked. When Singh searches for an entrance he sees the Bilco doors, opens up, and climbs down the stairs. We’re there to welcome him.”
Katepoo waited for Coigne’s reaction. All that eagerness didn’t mean the plan would work, but the young man had taken initiative and in Coigne’s book that counted.
“Think about details. Assuming you’re right and Singh is staking out the house, how do we get into the house and down to the basement without Singh spotting us?”
“Ms. Sager unlocks the Bilco doors, we scoot behind the green wall and through the doors ourselves. Then we wait.”
“How about the fact that I had Trooper Ferguson stay with Ms. Sager today? Barb Ferguson’s been there since this morning, cruiser sitting in the driveway. Won’t that tend to discourage Singh from making his move to your green wall?”
“I’d forgotten that.” Only slightly discouraged, Jimmy Katepoo looked away to consider the new problem. “Her being there is actually helpful, sir. Assuming Singh’s watching the house, we can control the timing of his move if we call Barb, Trooper Ferguson, and have her make a big deal of leaving the house so Singh sees the coast is clear. Meanwhile, with all that action in the driveway, that’s when we slip behind the green wall and into the basement and wait, but not for long. Trooper Ferguson drives off, Singh sees his chance, creeps around to the side of the house and down the basement stairs and he’s done.”
Coigne nodded, then cocked his head. “And what about Anne Sager?”
“Sir?”
“What’s she doing while all this is happening in her basement?”
“Oh. Right. We’ve put her in danger by sending Trooper Ferguson away and luring Singh to the house. In that case, Anne Sager should leave with Ferguson.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what she should do.”
Katepoo’s plan was sound because it was simple, depending primarily on Singh’s being in the neighborhood and willing to believe the Bilco doors were left unlocked accidentally. Summertime on the Cape, not implausible. But there was one more person who needed to be placed out of harm’s way, far from the house when Singh showed up. Coigne hated to do it, but didn’t see a choice. He liked Jimmy and wanted to reward his taking the initiative, but wouldn’t risk him on a dangerous stake-out. He took a deep breath. “Last problem to solve, Trooper. If Singh breaks free, I need a back-up, someone who can catch him if he’s flushed out the front door.”
Katepoo said nothing, but Coigne read disappointment in the sag of his shoulders. “Ferguson will still be out with Ms. Sager, obviously. Right now, you’re all I’ve got.”
The young man closed his eyes, as if willing Coigne not to say what he was about to say.
“I need you to hang back, because you’re faster than I am and can probably outrun Singh. I’ll take the basement post alone.”
Still the younger man said nothing.
“You cool with that?”
“Sir.”
Coigne knew it could be a long time before Jimmy Katepoo wanted to work with him again.
They figured out the location where Katepoo could best watch the Sager house, Norma’s driveway, and Coigne said he’d give her a call.
“Do you need to ask permission?”
“This may come as a surprise to someone as dedicated as you, Trooper, but some people don’t fancy the possibility of a shoot-out in their driveway. Besides, we need her to steer clear of home until everything is over.” As it turned out, he had to leave a voicemail.
Katepoo got through to Ferguson and they set the plan in motion.
“It will only take a couple of hours, Ms. Sager. I’ll have you back by dinnertime. I promise.”
Coigne took his cue from Barb Feguson’s loud voice in the driveway to start moving toward the green wall. He felt he’d missed something in planning and gave fleeting thought to abort, but in the excitement he forgot all about it.
“Fine.” Ms. Sager opened the cruiser door and got in. There must have been more conversation in the car because she got out again. “I have to have them. I never go anywhere without my sunglasses. If you hadn’t hurried me, Trooper Ferguson, I wouldn’t have forgotten them. Anyway, I’ll be right back.”
Coigne was satisfied with the performance. It rang true. A patient officer of the law was gently coaxing cooperation out of her charge and that charge was sounding annoyed at having to do something for her own good. If Singh were anywhere close by, he’d know his best chance for searching the house was as soon as the two women pulled out of the driveway.
The light from the small basement windows allowed Coigne to look around without using an artificial light source. He’d expected to find junk piled everywhere: paint cans, old bikes, broken furniture, plenty of hiding spots to choose from. It was a basement, after all. But Anne Sager had other ideas. He saw one small desk with a brass lamp, one ladder-back chair, one large, immovable metal file cabinet, and a side-by-side washer-dryer. Even if he was willing to suffer the indignity of curling up inside the dryer, he’d never be able to climb out in time. His best bet was to hide underneath the Bilco door stairs, despite the fact they had no back, no risers between the treads. He’d be visible.
A half hour passed. Coigne’s joints ached. He also wondered about black mold. Worst of all, he’d begun to think they’d set their trap for nothing. Singh was probably miles away and they were wasting time. If by some miracle they caught Singh, he was only good for the murder of Ken Crawford and Gin Sager. Not even kryptonite could weaken his alibi for Buddy Todd’s time of death. But for Coigne, doubtful and discouraged were foreign states of mind. His hunches generally bore out. He stopped second-guessing and settled in for a long wait.
To pass the time he thought about Norma’s odd behavior ever since Laney’s rescue at the high school. He wondered if she still thought he took bribes from crooks. The notion of having to plead his case to convince her otherwise didn’t sit well. He needed her to figure out who he was by herself. To be fair, he knew why she thought he was a dirty cop. After all, his father was a convicted criminal. What she didn’t know was the dirty-cop rumors were started by his father, retribution for Coigne’s crossing to the “dark side,” law enforcement. Coigne figured he’d get over the hurt his father had inflicted once he got a little retribution of his own, when he could inform his father that attempted bribery, a consequence of his father’s dirty-cop rumor, just added two years to the sentence of a guy who had tried it on him.
An hour and a half had passed and judging by the color of the sky and stiffness of his joints, it would be evening soon. They’d told Ferguson to bring Anne back in two hours, at which time, if Singh hadn’t appeared, Coigne would reconnoiter with Katepoo and work on Plan B.
Despite his facility for tying loose ends into tidy knots, something was still eating him, something he’d forgotten. He went over and over the plan and could find nothing wrong. It took just three small words from the floor above to jog his memory.
“Gran, you home?”
42
Coigne held his breath. My God, what was Laney doing back so soon? He pulled out his cell phone to contact Katepoo. No service. Stupid! He started to uncoil his limbs when, overhead, the Bilco hinges groaned. Daylight poured in. The Bilco doors closed. A pair of dark pants crept backwards down the ladder stairs. Singh.
“Gran? Where are you? You’ll never guess what I saw!”
Singh stopped mid-step.
Coigne thrust his hands through the open stairs and grabbed Singh’s ankles. He yanked hard. Singh fell back, head first, hitting concrete. Coigne squeezed out from under the stairs and drew his gun. Singh rolled over and whirled around. He stood
in shadow but his white sleeve was caught in the light. A click sound drew Coigne’s attention to the open switchblade.
The men faced off. For a wild second, Coigne thought of the show on stage at the Academy, West Side Story. But there was no Bernstein score for courage, no fellow gang members. Just an armed killer and cop in a laundry room.
“Gran?”
Singh made as if to raise his hands in surrender, grabbed the brass lamp and flung it at Coigne’s head, causing him to drop his gun.
Coigne shouted, “Run, Laney! Get out of the house!”
Singh scrambled toward the stairs to the kitchen. Where the hell was Katepoo? Singh bolted up the stairs two at a time. His fingers reached for the kitchen doorknob. Coigne lunged for his legs. Missed. The door swung open full force, flipping Singh over Coigne and landing him flat on his back.
“Drop the knife. I said drop it.” Jimmy Katepoo stood ten feet tall at the top of the stairs, gun drawn.
“Where’s Gran? Is my Gran okay?” Laney was ghost white. Handing Singh over to Katepoo for the Miranda warning, Coigne led the girl into the living room. He was getting her a glass of water when Trooper Ferguson and Anne Sager returned to the house. Coigne knew Ms. Sager would be furious that her granddaughter had been caught in the trap laid for Singh. Who wouldn’t be? He was relieved when he saw that getting Laney up to bed was her grandmother’s first priority.
To Katepoo he said, “Put that piece of crap in my car. We’ll take him in together. And Jimmy, damn good work.”
“Glad you had me stay outside. You really did think of everything.”
“If you only knew.”
43
