“This is it,” Mary said. “I’m going to go in with you and help you with the paper work and visitor processing, but I don’t want to go with you to visit Paul. What you and he talk about is private, and I’m not about to invade that privacy. The only thing you shouldn’t discuss is what you will say as a witness. It’s possible that Paul will try to persuade you to help him by not telling his part in all of this; maybe by urging you to go to the sheriff and change what you have already said about Paul’s part in what happened.”
“I know better than that, Mary. I went through my mother’s hearings after Dad was murdered. I appreciate your respecting my privacy.”
“One other thing. I promised someone that I’d ask you to find out about what ever happened to Carolyn Brousseau’s dog.”
“What dog? What are you talking about?”
“Just ask Paul, please.”
They walked into the old brick jail. In a few minutes, Sherry had signed the visitor’s roster, and given the guards her purse. She was buzzed through a metal door and disappeared accompanied by a guard.
In a few minutes the guard reappeared. “Are you the lady who accompanied that young woman?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s right. Is something wrong?”
“I’d say so. When she went through the metal detector, we found this under her sweater.” The guard held out a large Swiss Army Knife. “She said she forgot she had it, always carries it for protection.”
“Is she going to be able to see Paul Conrad?” Mary asked.
“Yes, but not in the visitors’ room. She can talk to him by phone through the screen. Just a precaution.”
The woman corrections officer who searched her and found the knife delivered Sherry to a dimly lit area. Prisoners were behind a screen, seated at small windows. The officer pointed to a chair at one of the windows. No one was on the other side. A few minutes passed. Then a door opened and she saw Paul being brought through the door. He was in leg chains and handcuffs. The guard who brought him in unhooked his handcuffs and cuffed one hand to the arm of the chair. The guard pointed to the telephone receivers on each side of the window. Paul picked up his receiver with his free hand.
Sherry hesitated for a minute. As soon as Paul came through the door, her heart had started beating faster and faster. She thought she might black out. How ironic that Paul was now the one tethered to a chair. She looked at the receiver and picked it up.
“Sherry, I didn’t expect to ever see you here. I thought it was my public defender when they said I had a visitor. How are you?”
“Do you actually care how I am?”
“Why did you come?”
“I came because I realize that if you hadn’t helped me out of that place, I would have died, so I am grateful for that.”
“You have to believe that I never knew that Francie planned to kill you.”
“What I can’t understand is how you convinced me that you cared about me, that you loved me. I thought you were so special. I guess I am just stupid.”
“You’re one of the smartest girls I ever met, not silly or spoiled like a lot of the Dartmouth girls that hung at the pubs and bars. Please believe that I did have feelings for you, and not just because you were a good lay.”
“Then how could you have done what you did to me? You traded my feelings for money. That’s all you wanted.”
“Sherry, I lied to you a lot. My parents aren’t dead. Well, my mom is. My father is serving a life sentence in prison. He beat my mom to death. I was only fourteen and I had no parents left. Francie Wallace took me in. She was my foster mom, and Otis was like my own brother. They were all I had”
“I wish you’d told me the truth. I would have understood. We have a lot in common. My mother was accused of stabbing my father to death. After her arrest, I found out that he had been cheating on my mother through their whole marriage. It turned out that the woman who probably did kill him was one of his girlfriends. I thought my dad was the greatest until I learned the truth about him.”
“I didn’t think someone like you would understand. I guess we should have talked to each other more instead of fooling around all the time we were together.”
“Maybe things would have been different, but the reality is that you allowed me to be abused by that Francie.”
“Francie fooled me. She had me and Otis help her break into Mrs. Brousseu’s house where Francie used to work. She said we were just going to take some stuff while no one was there, but the old lady was there and Francie shot her, and then Otis shot their old dog and buried him in the woods”
“So Francie was already in big trouble. Why didn’t you go to the police, or get out of there?”
“Where could I go? And then Francie said if I told, she’d say I did the killing and I’d be in prison forever like my dad. She said they’d believe I was just like my dad.”
“So why were you hanging out with me?”
“Francie had this plan that if we could get a lot of money, we could get out of the Upper Valley and get far away, before the sheriff decided to find out who really killed Mrs. Brousseau. We were thinking of going to Florida or California. Francie said a lot of girls would like to be my girlfriend, and that all I had to do was find one of the rich Dartmouth ones. Once I got one interested in me she’d grab her and get money from the girl’s parents and then we’d be out of here. I never thought that she’d kill someone else.”
“So I turned up and fell for all of your lies.”
“Not all of it was lies. I was even thinking that I’d get my share of the money and come to Florida and maybe I’d find you there. I guess I’ll end up like my dad, sitting in prison all my life.”
“I told the sheriff that you were the one who got me out of that place before I was killed, so you probably won’t get as bad a sentence as Francie and Otis. I’m glad I came to see you and heard the real truth from you, but I don’t ever want to see you again. If you get out, don’t ever come near me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sherry. I truly am sorry.”
Sherry slammed down the receiver and walked out of the room as fast as she could. For the first time in days, the buzzing in her ears stopped.
She retrieved her purse and fled from the damp building. Mary hurried behind her.
“I found out about the dog. Otis killed it and buried it in the woods.”
“It wasn’t an it. It was a her,” Mary said. “Do you want to talk about anything else?”
“No, I don’t. I’m ready to leave for Miami. I hope we can go tomorrow.”
CHAPTER
SIXTY-FOUR
I delivered Sherry back to Lillian, refused Lillian’s dinner invitation and began the drive home. Of course, not my real home. Lucy’s house was beginning to feel familiar and safe.
I thought about Miami as I drove. Sooner or later I had to return to home and work. What would it be like without Carlos dropping into the office or waiting for me at my house in the Gables; without Chicky phoning to tell me about the latest fashions? I knew my family would be around to fill those gaps. As annoyed as I got over Mother’s fussing over me, I sort of missed being that center of attention. Sooner or later was becoming sooner in my mind. Could I ever forget Carlos? I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all the time I was here, seventeen hundred miles away from him. How would I erase him from my mind when he was only blocks away. Maybe I was as stupid as Sherry had been about Paul. For all my experience judging people, I believed in Carlos, and he turned out to be a liar.
Before I knew it, I was passing the mini-mart. I hadn’t seen Riley for days. I turned into the drive and parked at the gas pump. As soon as I entered the store, Riley saw me and came out from behind the counter.
“Mary, I’ve heard all about the kidnapping and Francie Wallace being in jail. I feel just awful that I had no inkling what she was up to. I’m the one she left the package with that your friend, Mrs. Yarmouth, came here to get. I hope you’re not mad at me. I just didn’t know.”
I didn’t even bother to ask Riley how she knew these details. Between Hal’s store and this mini-mart, there was little need for a newspaper or television.
“I’m not mad at you. I couldn’t share anything that was happening for fear that we’d never get Sherry back alive.”
“How is she?”
“I just left her. She’s doing better and getting ready to go home with her mother. Listen, Riley, I’m sure you know about Roland Behr being murdered. You’ll probably hear soon enough that he was running some kind of Nazi organization at his house. Were you aware that there was a hate group like that here in the Upper Valley?”
“I know he was shot. There have always been rumors about who he really was. If you’re asking if I knew he was a bigot, the answer is yes. I think almost everyone knew that. Even his wife was always quick to tell a joke about Blacks and Jews.”
“What I can’t figure out is how there could be an active Nazi cell operating here without everyone knowing about it. It seems like no one can do anything in secret here. Everyone knew who I was before I could introduce myself.”
“It’s probably hard for you to understand. You come from a big city where people are more anonymous. People probably did know more than you think. Some people definitely agreed with the distrust of minorities. They just kept it to themselves. Others may have known that Roland was involved in some ugly stuff. Try to understand that Vermonters believe in live and let live. We gossip, but we don’t judge peoples’ thoughts. Does that make sense to you?”
“No, it doesn’t, not really; not when it is so hurtful. But I still hope you and I are friends. I want to make sure that Ken Upham is not a person of interest anymore in Roland’s murder and then I want to get back to Miami, and back to making a living again. Maybe you’ll even visit me there sometime.”
“I’d love to, especially during the grey days of March when I tend to get cabin fever. It sounds like you’re telling me goodbye. I was hoping you and Dash would become a couple and you’d stick around.”
“Thanks for wanting me around. Dash is a great guy. He’s just not my great guy.”
CHAPTER
SIXTY-FIVE
I gassed up the Explorer and headed for Main Street and River Road. I realized I was just blocks from Dash’s office. I pulled into the drive next to the barn and parked next to Daisy’s car. Dash was sitting at Daisy’s desk as I walked in. Daisy was looking over his shoulder at the computer. She hurried over to me and gave me a hug.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you how happy I am that everything turned out fine for Sherry. Dash told me how brave you were helping with her rescue.” Daisy’s heavy hairdo bobbed up and down as she talked.
“Mary, I’m glad you stopped in. We were just talking about you and laughing about how you smoked Tom Brousseau out. I have to admit, I thought you were overly imaginative about someone staying at the Brousseau house.”
“You don’t know the half of it. For a while I thought it might be you hanging out there. You and Tom have the same exact car.”
“So does half the valley. A black Subaru SUV is standard here.” Dash broke up laughing and then Daisy joined him. I began to giggle too.
Daisy left for a minute and returned with a tray and glasses. “I think it’s the cocktail hour,” she said.
She poured a shot of scotch in each glass and we all swilled it down. The warm liquid left an after- glow that even warmed my feet a little. I still wasn’t adjusted to the power of the wind to envelope all of my parts. If I stayed until real winter I might develop an alcohol problem.
“Mary, Daisy and I were just discussing the feds investigation into Roland’s murder. Curtis is questioning all the board members of the temple,”
“Even me!” Daisy said.
“Do you want me to sit in with you, Daisy?” I asked.
“No, one of the FBI men already talked to me. I’m worried about Franz Goldstein and his family.”
“I can’t believe that Curtis is going to question Franz. He must be at least 85 and he’s fairly feeble,” Dash said.
“Isn’t he the one you said was a Holocaust survivor?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“That’s the reason he’s a suspect. If he knew there were Nazis operating here, wouldn’t that cause flashbacks to whatever he endured during the war?” I asked.
“Possibly, but I can’t picture Franz being able to attack someone physically. Roland was either chased into his front yard and shot there, or his body was dragged out there. How could Franz manage that?” Dash asked.
“Mary, couldn’t you represent Franz and his family when the FBI questions them?” Daisy asked.
“That might not be proper. I represented Ken.”
“Ken’s off the hook. He told me himself that Curtis said he wasn’t under suspicion,” Dash said.
“Sometimes the Feds say that, but they really don’t mean it, trying to catch a suspect off guard,” I said. “Maybe I could offer a limited representation just for the purpose of guarding Franz’s rights during questioning. Why don’t you represent the other family members, Dash?”
“I’m not the criminal law expert. If any of them get charged with anything, I’ll find them permanent Vermont criminal lawyers,” Dash said.
“Please, do this Mary. These are such good people,” Daisy said as she poured me another hit of scotch.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SIX
I was awake before six the next morning. I couldn’t believe that I was again working on a case in Vermont when I should be returning to Miami.
I got up and went right to the computer and sent a long e-mail to Catherine. I told her about Sherry, the Brousseau murder, and Roland Behr. I assured her that this was the last case that I would be even peripherally involved in here, and that I would be leaving for Miami by the weekend or Monday at the latest.
I grabbed Sam and sped off to Hal’s store to pick up breakfast and the morning paper. Hal was just opening the store, although I could smell that he’d been baking for hours. We bought pumpkin bread and coffee for me, and homemade dog biscuits for Sam. I dodged Hal’s questions about Tom, and about the feds showing up to investigate Roland’s murder.
Back at Lucy’s, I spread out the Valley News to read about the murder and the full story of Sherry’s kidnapping. My name was mentioned four times. The second page carried the story of Francie Wallace and Carolyn Brousseau’s murder. I got two mentions in that article.
What surprised me was the sidebar that accompanied the story of Francie’s arrest.
Sheriff Jimmy Parsons tendered his resignation last night to the Village Manager, stating he wished to spend more time with his family. He had two years left in his term of office. The Select Board will discuss appointing an interim sheriff to serve the two years remaining in Parson’s term or until a future election.
Some citizens of the village have expressed distrust of the abilities of Parsons after Carolyn Brousseau’s murder went unsolved for over one year. Many others felt that Jimmy Parsons did a good job of keeping the highways safe from speeders and drunk drivers.
Parsons was unavailable for comment prior to deadline.
With a kidnapping and two murders in the past twelve months, High Pines better get a super cop appointed fast, I thought.
I had treated myself to a New York Times and opened it to National News. Immediately an item jumped out at me. Seaside National Bank in Miami was under scrutiny from the Securities and Exchange Commission, the IRS, and the Justice Department for irregularities. Seaside was the startup bank that J.C. Martin, Carlos’s father, served as a board member. I remembered that he even tried to get me to move my law office trust account to Seaside. I had a pang of regret when I saw J.C.’s name.. I had always felt real affection for him. He was a complete gentleman, always saying the right thing at the right time. I missed him.
It was time to put on my lawyer’s attire and get myself over to Rabbi Goldblatt’s chambers at the temple.
“I can’t take you with me, Sam. I’m sorry to leave you home again,” I said.
Just then I heard a tap on the back door. I saw Tom Brousseau through the glass.
“Tom, how are you?”
“I’m great, Mary. Thanks to you, I’m starting a whole new life. I came over to say thank you so much. I hope I’m not coming over too early.”
“Not at all. I’m just about to leave to do some legal work. I was just putting Sam in his crate.”
Sam jumped up and put his paws on Tom’s chest, a greeting reserved for his closest friends. Tom rubbed Sam’s chest.
“Mary, why don’t you leave Sam with me? It’s a shame to keep him cooped up. I’ll be home all day, painting. It’s so pretty that I may even set up an easel outside and Sam can romp around.”
“Are you sure? Sam can be an escape artist, so you need to keep a close eye on him. You never told me where your paintings are exhibited.”
“Nowhere right now. I had some exhibits when I was at the art institute and a small show on Cape Cod, but I’ve been out of touch as you know.”
“We have a big art show in Miami every February, the Coconut Grove Art Show. I’ll send you all the information and maybe you can get accepted. If you do, you can stay with me.”
“Thanks, Mary. That would be great.”
I snapped Sam’s leash on him and he and Tom set off on the path between the two houses.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SEVEN
I followed Daisy’s directions to the temple. I admired the interesting building as I approached it from the parking area. It had a New England look and fit into the rural setting as easily as one of the red barns I kept passing; nothing like the Moorish architecture that older synagogues utilized, nor the stern modern looking buildings in Miami.
A group of people was standing around in the entryway. They were of mixed ages. A very frail appearing man sat on a bench. He cradled a cane in his knarred hand. Next to him sat a man around my father’s age. He had his arm around the shoulder of the older man. A young couple stood nearby. I was sure these were the Goldsteins.
Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October Page 22
