Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods

by Bernadine Fagan

  “But there were three on the computer. What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure. I think we have to prove Buster wrote them. Lots of questions will come up. Like why weren’t they filed? Did we come by this knowledge legally?”

  “How annoying. I can’t think about that now. Here’s the letter to Ray. It brings up more questions than it answers.”

  To slimeball Ray Racanelli: If you don’t die before me, I will haunt you forever. Buster

  Read that again,” Nick said quickly.

  I reread it. Nick said nothing at first. I waited. Finally, he said, “I knew they didn’t get along, but this goes real deep. Like he’s putting a curse on him.”

  I heard him take a deep breath. “I’ve questioned Ray about his relationship with Buster. Nothing he said gave a hint to anything as serious as this sounds. What do the wills say?”

  “I gave them a quick glance. My eyes wanted to close. I drank a glass of wine at the party.”

  “Can you give me the gist of them?”

  “I may not have it all straight. I’ll read them more thoroughly in the morning,” I said. “The one dated the earliest is probably the one in effect now. It gives the nephews everything. The second gives the coin collection and the tank to Walter. The third cancels one and two—nothing for the nephews, nothing for Walter, everything for the veterans and their families. I think all the money goes toward the camp he wanted set up. He put Rhonda in charge. She’s executor. There’s more, but I didn’t read it.”

  “My God, what a mess. I’ll read the documents and talk to the district lawyer and Buster’s lawyer when I get back. Just keep your computer in a safe place.”

  “Do you want me to email the documents to you?”

  “No. You obtained them illegally. I’ll get a search warrant and get them legally.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s the sixth document?”

  “I didn’t open it.”

  “I wish I could be with you right now,” Nick said.

  “Me too.”

  “You know I don’t mean only because of the documents, don’t you?”

  “I’m pretty sharp about some things, Sheriff Renzo.”

  “You’re pretty sharp about a lot of things.”

  “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Don’t take any more chances. Please. Whoever committed this murder is a planner, a violent person who will let nothing stand in his or her way. And if he thinks you’re in the way … ”

  “I know, I know. You don’t have to say it.” I paused. “The letters scared me. The wills too. You have to wonder what was going through Buster’s mind with all those revisions. I think he knew these people very well.”

  “I keep wondering what I missed. When I get back I’ll add the will with a question mark to the murder board and go over everything again. If the nephews were on the outs with Buster, it stands to reason he wouldn’t have left them everything.”

  “Can we go through it together? Maybe fresh eyes on it will help?”

  “It’s a date,” he said.

  “Our first date.”

  “Yes.”

  The silence on the line was filled with unspoken words that neither of us had the courage to say.

  Finally, I said, “Good night, Nick.”

  I didn’t say, I miss you, I want you near me, I love your company.

  I considered calling him back, but he had a long ride ahead of him tomorrow and he needed his sleep. He’d call me on the way.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The next morning Yo Yo Ma played while I was mentally preparing for my shower. It could only be Nick. Smiling, I picked up my cell without checking the caller.

  “Nora, glad you’re up.”

  My heart took a dip. “Hello, Mary Fran.”

  “Things are slow today at Hot Heads Heaven. Not much on the schedule. Rhonda comes in for a trim at eleven this morning, and then one more client after her and then I’m free. So I was wondering if you needed any help from your assistant detective.”

  “No thanks, Mary Fran.”

  We chatted a bit and hung up. I took my shower, shivered into my midnight blue undies with the lace trim, a pair of L.L.Bean jeans, and a warm fisherman knit sweater. I glanced out at the sunny day. It looked warm. The frost on the window told another story.

  As I was tracing my initials in the frost, inspiration struck. It was a bolt-out-of-the-blue moment. An opportunity presented itself and I’d almost passed it up.

  I grabbed the cell and called Mary Fran.

  “Let’s go to lunch today. Call Rhonda and ask her to join us.”

  “Is this business related? Will I be on the job?”

  Oh, geeze. “Yes,” I said.

  “You need to brief me first.”

  “No. This is a … ” I couldn’t mention the letters or the wills. I tried to think of a way around the dilemma. Nothing came, so I said, “This is a touchy situation. I’m not sure how to handle it. I’m going to play it by ear.” And that was the truth.

  “Then answer one question.”

  “The question is?”

  “Do you still suspect Ray?”

  I hesitated for only a few seconds. “He’s on the list of possibilities. Definitely.”

  “I thought so,” she said.

  Before noon, I walked under the Hot Heads Heaven marquee, silver stars around silver heads on a magenta background. Inside, I was hit by the smells of dye and hair spay. But it was the magenta swirls on the silver walls that made me dizzy if I looked at them too long. So I focused on Rhonda.

  “You look good,” I told her, admiring her hair cut, wondering whether I dared let Mary Fran cut my hair which was longer than I usually wore it. Nah. Some things are too risky.

  “I do my own hair, but Mary Fran cuts it. The arrangement works,” Rhonda said.

  “I could do that updo, add a few more curls at the edges. That would work, too,” Mary Fran said, flipping one of Rhonda’s loose curls with a styling brush. “A little spray would help.”

  “Ray doesn’t like spray,” Rhonda said. “You know that. I might get my nails done next. Something plain. Maybe clear or light pink.”

  When Rhonda reached down for her purse, Mary Fran gave me an elbow poke. She thought she was being subtle. I smirked at her. She ignored it and widened her eyes in question. Did she expect me to tell her why I wanted to see Rhonda, in front of Rhonda? I considered poking her back. I smirked instead.

  Rhonda progressed from nail chatter to talk of winter preparations at the camp. Beneath the cover of her banal conversation, I could feel remnants of sadness coming off her in waves. I wished I could comfort her.

  I said to Mary Fran, “Rhonda and I will go ahead. Meet us at the Country Store when you’re finished here.”

  “Okay. Order me a tuna on rye,” she said as a woman I didn’t know walked in. We said hello to her and left.

  Once we were seated in a booth at the Country Store, Alice appeared with menus, as if I needed one. I was still in my lobster roll rut.

  After we ordered and the chit-chat wound down, I looked across at the person who knew the victim the best and wanted his murderer caught the most. “Rhonda, did Buster discuss his plans for the camp he wanted to build?”

  She looked taken aback. “Yes. How do you know about that?”

  “What did he tell you?” I asked.

  Alice returned with two diet cokes. I decided on the diet coke so I wouldn’t feel guilty about having dessert. It’s nice to even things off.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Rhonda said.

  “It might matter quite a bit,” I said, tapping the paper off my straw.

  She shrugged and looked toward the potbelly stove in the back room, as if she couldn’t look at me directly. “He was going to leave me the money and the architect’s plans for the camp. Obviously, that didn’t happen. It was just talk.”

  Not so, I wanted to assure her, thinking of will number three.

  “Did Ray k
now about this money?”

  “I never told him.”

  “What did Buster tell you about the money? I mean, where it was coming from?”

  “He mentioned his father’s coin collection. Said it was worth a lot. He got estimates for over half a million.”

  Walter must have known this. Possibly Ray, too.

  “If you think of anything else,” I said, “please tell me, even if you don’t think it’s important.”

  The food arrived as Mary Fran joined us. “Great timing,” she said, slipping into the booth.

  “I still don’t know how you knew about the extension he planned to build,” Rhonda said.

  “A lot of people knew,” Mary Fran said around a mouthful of tuna salad. “Even me. He marked off a section behind his house. I almost tripped over the yellow marker flag.”

  When I finished my lobster roll, Rhonda said, “I’m going over to the library to buy a used book for Ray as a birthday gift. It’s one his mother donated years ago. Margaret mentioned it to me. She said it was one of the sale items. He loved it as a kid. It’s an antique bird book called Fowls of the Air.”

  I wanted to stay with her in case she thought of something more, or in case I did.

  “I’ll join you and see if anything looks good for my aunts,” I said.

  The air was brisk and clean. We walked over to the library, me wishing I had that book on Lincoln with me so I could slip it onto the sale table when no one was looking, Rhonda lost in thoughts having nothing to do with Lincoln, I was sure.

  Only four vehicles were in the small parking lot and one resembled Vivian’s SUV, right down to the “I love my Poms” decal in the back window.

  “I see Vivian is here,” Rhonda said as we passed the SUV. “I should probably try to make amends with her. It’s been way too long.”

  “Good idea,” I said as Mary Fran joined us.

  “I put the Gone Fishin’ sign up,” she said. “The ladies know that’s a joke. They come back in about an hour when they see that.”

  “A joke? I don’t get it,” I said, watching Rhonda who hadn’t smiled once.

  “I never go fishing. Never. Don’t like it.”

  The faint hint of lemon oil and the wonderful scent of books was like a friendly greeting when we walked in the door. With my eyes closed I’d know I was in the Silver Stream Library. I took a deep nostalgic breath. I loved this small library. Loved the childhood memories. My father was a book lover and used to take me here regularly.

  Margaret the librarian was at the main desk, dressed in a prim navy suit, staring at us, or rather at Rhonda, with a strange look. Alarm might describe the look. Or distress. I might even go so far as to say … horror. What was going on?

  I looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Fidgeting with the perfect collar on her perfect prissy blouse, Margaret said quickly, “Rhonda, hello. It’s good to see you. Are you here to buy a book or just borrow?”

  Rhonda’s smile vanished when we heard a male voice from the back room. The words weren’t clear, but the tone was unmistakable. The responding giggle came across as intimate and sexy. Very clear.

  “Rhonda, wait,” Margaret said, desperation in her voice. “You’ll be interested in the new Danielle Steel book. You haven’t read it yet.”

  Rhonda stormed down the aisle like a general leading an avenging army, obviously not interested in the new Danielle Steel book. Margaret bounded down a parallel aisle to cut her off at the pass. I followed at a fast clip.

  There was no stopping Rhonda. At the end of the aisle, she collided with Margaret, who spun around and grabbed the shelf for support. Rhonda planted herself at the open door, hands on hips, purse dangling from one wrist. I peered around from her right, Margaret from her left, Mary Fran in back of me looking over my shoulder.

  It took Ray a few seconds to notice us staring at him.

  His hand recoiled from Vivian’s rear end faster than if he’d touched his steaming trout chowder pot. Aglow, and as dreamy-eyed as a teenager with a first crush, Vivian was slower to react, giving the avenging general time to step inside and grab an encyclopedia.

  I watched, fascinated.

  Rhonda hurled it at him. He ducked and it missed. Too cumbersome, I thought. She picked up a smaller hardcover. This one caught him on his Florida-shaped nose. Blood flowed. Vivian screamed. Margaret gasped. Mary Fran yelped.

  I continued to watch, thinking I should probably step in and put an end to this violence before someone got hurt. It was plain that making amends with Vivian was off Rhonda’s agenda. I smiled. I know it was in poor taste, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Good thing Rhonda didn’t have a gun in her purse.

  Ray backed away, hands up. That was a mistake. He was in the open paperback section, vulnerable to a frontal assault, and Rhonda was in the children’s encyclopedia section. Rhonda went for the kill shot and hit him where it really hurt, making him double over and go to the floor on both knees. It was the heavy M encyclopedia that did it. The F, a little lighter, but not by much, clipped him on the head.

  That’s when Margaret shouted.

  “Stop. You’ll damage my books. And you’re making too much noise.”

  Her pleas were so much chaff in the wind. I thought I should step in and say something like ‘stop’ or ‘watch out.’ All I could think of was that Vivian must have been with Ray when she had an appointment with me. How annoying. And I was working for her. I should double my fee. She had not been honest.

  “Why?” Rhonda yelled at Ray. “Just tell me! Why?”

  Ray struggled to his feet, careful to keep distance between himself and Rhonda. “You didn’t love me. It was Buster, always had been.”

  “I married you, not Buster.”

  “Yes. After I arranged it.”

  Rhonda’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? You didn’t arrange our marriage.”

  On guard, Ray backed up. Feeling braver with added distance between himself and the warrior woman, he sneered and wiped the blood from his nose. Several drops fell on his pristine pharmacy shirt.

  His face became a vicious mask. Startled and a little scared, I scrambled in my bag for the mace.

  “Call the police if he tries anything,” I said to Mary Fran as I stepped into the room to protect Rhonda.

  “You fool,” Ray said to Rhonda. “I work in a pharmacy. I saw what you bought, even though you took it to the front register. Even though you tried to hide it. The early pregnancy test. I knew he’d marry you if I didn’t act fast. I didn’t care about the pregnancy. Or you. I needed your money, so I set it up.” He paused and smiled a twisted smile. “I needed you to pay for my college.”

  Ichabod Crane had come to life.

  Ray’s smile morphed into a rictus of satisfaction. “I wanted to get rid of him. The marines were perfect. The two-year hitch worked well, don’t you think?”

  Three other people arrived at the door. Ray saw them and stopped talking. Vivian skulked out the back entrance. Rhonda sagged, the fight leaving her as quickly as it had come. Ray spun around and followed Vivian out the back entrance.

  I took off after them wishing it were possible for a headless horseman to come charging down the street about now.

  Ray grabbed Vivian’s arm as she opened her car door. “Wait. Don’t go like this.”

  “Get your hands off me. You did this to get back at her, didn’t you? It was never about me.”

  Ray’s head swiveled back and forth in denial. “It started that way, but it progressed to … something more.”

  I ducked out of sight behind Ce-Ce, and listened, not trusting the guy for a nanosecond. Creep. I hoped Vivian wasn’t taken in by him.

  “You think I’m stupid enough to believe that line of crap. I’m not a kid. Get lost, Ray.”

  Hooray for Vivian.

  “What else have you done to get back at her? Would you kill?”

  Hooray again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Without bother
ing to reply, Vivian got into her car and peeled out of the parking lot like she was driving the getaway car in a bank robbery.

  I stepped out from behind my truck. “How did you trick Buster?” I asked, turning his attention from the retreating vehicle.

  He regarded me, fire in his gaze, anger in his stance. “None of your damn business, lady. You stirred up this mess. Time for you to leave our town. Get back where you came from.”

  “Seems to me that you did most of the stirring. Cheating on your wife. Tricking Buster into leaving all those years ago?”

  I moved closer. I wanted to make him angrier, get him to say more, perhaps incriminate himself. “How did you manage to trick him?”

  “Didn’t take much. I doctored a little picture of Rhonda and me. When I showed it to him he went white as a dead man. I thought he was going to pass out.”

  “Stay away from him, Nora,” Mary Fran called from the safety of the library door. “The guy is nuts.”

  I glanced at her as Rhonda walked out dabbing at her face with a tissue. Margaret and two other library patrons filed out slowly, keeping close to the building. I heard a police siren around the corner. Trimble was on his way.

  Rhonda stopped a few feet from her husband, like she was about to deliver a parting shot. Personally, I thought there wasn’t much that could top the encyclopedia to the testicles.

  “Two things you should know, Ray. First, and maybe least important, I made the bedroom aesthetically pleasing so I could tolerate being in there with you.”

  Okay, maybe I was wrong about the encyclopedia.

  “And second, Steven knows you’re not his father,” she said with the force of a prize fighter delivering the knockout punch. “When I told him the truth, he was shocked. But after a while he came to me and said he was proud he was Buster’s son. Proud,” she said again, clearly, distinctly, her head held high.

  Ray’s face seemed to collapse.

  The second one definitely hurt more. I wasn’t sure whether it was true or not. She’d told me that Steven didn’t know. Either way, Ray would find out soon, but right now the man was crushed.