“Fred wouldn’t have. I can believe it of Inger, from what you’ve said of her.”
He told her what he knew of the letter that had been found in Inger’s track suit. “It’s consistent with what I know of Inger’s character. She intended to confess, but she had to let Cate know she was going to admit to her role in the disaster.”
“But Cate didn’t wait to hear about it.”
“Or read about it. Both killings were swift and ruthless.”
“Anger,” Meg said.
“Anger and impatience.” He looked thoughtful. “Jack thinks Cate was edgy and impatient when she shoved Lars out of the car. It’s a little hard to reconcile that with what Dede said about her loving her husband.”
“She loved him before he betrayed her.”
“Whew,” Rob said. “I’m getting indigestion. Ready for steak?”
“Ready for chanterelles.”
“Christ, I forgot them.” He dolloped butter into her omelette pan, turned the steaming pot on the stove off and the pan on, and began sautéing. Timing was all.
Meg got up and set the table. He’d forgotten that, too. She thought she’d probably forgive him.
Charlie called Kayla at 9:50, right after class. “Are you all right?”
Kayla leaned back on the soft heap of pillows and closed her eye. “I’m just fine. You’re never going to believe what happened today.” She told him all about the library incident, clowning, and he laughed.
“Did they ask for autographs?”
“One did. This little girl with long braids and braces. She wants to be a nurse.”
“I hope you signed. You’re one hell of a good example.”
She felt herself blushing all over. “Do you really think so?”
“You know I do.”
Something unknotted at the back of her neck. “Will you take me back to the hospital in the morning?”
“If you can be ready at six.” He had a nine o’clock lab.
“I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Thank you, Charlie. How did your class go?”
“Nobody asked for my autograph, but it was okay. I may take that teaching job at Portland State. It’s temporary, but I want to look around for a while anyway, think things over.”
“Me, too,” she said softly. “Me, too.” She wondered if she could work with children. She hadn’t done much with pediatrics….
Rob got to his office fairly early the next day in spite of a languorous good time the night before. He’d walked to work and even had a brief conversation with Towser on his way. Tammy Brandstetter was walking the dog herself these days and looking all the better for it. Maybe he and Meg needed a dog. No, what they needed was matrimony.
Meg knew when to push and when not to. He supposed he would have to learn that from her, too. Now was not the time to push. He knew that much, but Beth was going to move out of his house within the next week. He would have to make decisions.
When he saw the heap of papers in his in-box he almost turned around and walked out, and there was twice as much on the computer. Any investigation generates paper. He had the mudslide and those deaths, his abortive investigation of the missing hazard warning, the deaths of Fred Drinkwater and Inger Swets, his own mugging, and now the death of Catherine Bjork and the search for Lars. Whoever took over Inger’s job would be occupied sorting and securing the records at least until the special election.
He wondered if Tammy Brandstetter would want to run for county clerk. She hadn’t said anything. Maybe she hadn’t thought of it. He flashed on Towser roaming the courthouse halls, bouncing at complete strangers, and decided not to mention the possibility.
He had reached for the papers and picked up a pen when the telephone rescued him.
“A Mrs. Gottfried, Rob.” Marlene on the switchboard.
“Okay.” He scrambled for an identity. Ah, Fred Drinkwater’s ex-wife. Jeff had interrogated her on the phone. There was a transcript toward the bottom of the paper mountain. He fumbled for it. “Mrs. Gottfried, this is Robert Neill.”
“I just heard about that Bjork woman’s death.”
“Ma’am?” He was still fumbling.
“Your commissioner,” she said impatiently. “She and my ex were lovers, off and on. I told him she was just using him because the old man was past it.”
“Hmmm.” He finally found the sheet.
“Detective Fong wanted to know about Fred’s investors, right?”
“Did Catherine Bjork invest in your former husband’s project at Prune Hill?”
“Not her. She was too smart. I told the deputy that. It was her husband. He was a regular fountain of cash. Then, when she got power of attorney, she told Fred she was cutting him off. They had words.”
“You didn’t mention that to Sergeant Fong?”
“Well, he kept asking about Lars.” There was a rustle of paper as if she were consulting notes.
Rob scanned rapidly.
JF: Lars Bjork was a major investor?
HG: Yes, there at Prune Hill, and at that place in the east county with the condos, and earlier, in Seattle. He was generous. Said Fred was like a son to him.
The woman on the telephone was saying something about her daughters’ private school fees.
Rob cleared his throat. “Let me get this clear. After Mrs. Bjork got power of attorney, she refused to give Mr. Drinkwater more money?”
“Well, not exactly. She said she’d see him through on the Prune Hill construction, but there had to be a proper accounting from then on. She put a stop to the big cash gifts. That was more than a year ago. Fred was a fool about the Bjorks. I told him they’d squash him like a bug when they got tired of him. There was some survey or other earlier…”
Rob held his breath.
“Something to do with soils. Sorry I can’t be more specific. When Fred started bragging I stopped listening. He got Lars Bjork to ask one of the clerks at the courthouse for a favor, because otherwise the plans for the project wouldn’t be approved.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Well, it’s kind of foggy. That was way back, a year and a half at least. Fred was real happy. The bulldozers moved in that week and they dug the foundations. Then, a couple of months later, Mrs. Bjork quarreled with him. Told him she’d found copies of two surveys. They didn’t agree, these two surveys. She’d consulted her lawyers, and would he please explain what the documents meant. Fred lost his temper, I guess, told her that it was her husband who had leaned on the clerk for a favor. That made Catherine mad. I told you they’d been lovers. After that, she wouldn’t have anything to do with Fred socially. He saw her, but just in the way of business. He was worried, I think, though he still talked big.”
Rob got out a fresh sheet of paper. “Okay, Mrs. Gottfried, I can see that I need to speak to you in more detail. Lieutenant Prentiss of the State Patrol may want to sit in on the interview.”
She sounded frightened but agreed to come to Klalo after she had talked to her husband.
When they had both hung up, Rob called Warren Bjork and found out exactly when Cate had been granted power of attorney for her husband. By that time the Prune Hill construction had been well under way. It was not much satisfaction to know he had been right.
I’ll have to call Charlie, he thought. He would have to tell Prentiss right away, of course, and Beth. And the prosecutor. Ellen would want a thorough examination of the Bjorks’ business dealings in Latouche County. And Ellen or Beth would have to call the attorney general. The ramifications made Rob’s head spin, and nothing he did was going to bring Mack back to life, or the Gautiers, or Inger, or Kayla’s patient, or the poor kid in the low-rider, but at least there would be an accounting.
He drew the office phone to him to call Prentiss, then pushed it away, took out his cell phone instead, and called the main branch of the Latouche County Library. Meg answered on the first ring.
KAYLA GRAVES did not run for county commissioner. Bat Quinn did. Unopposed. After much persuasion, Karl Ter
ge-son agreed to stay on the board until the next general election, but he intends to retire. Inger Swets’s senior deputy was named to serve out Inger’s term as county clerk, after Lt. Prentiss cleared her of any collusion. Beth McCormick declined to join the lawsuit the other survivors of the Prune Hill slide filed against the county. The case will be heard next year. It’s likely the attorney general will settle generously, which may explain why Meg’s levy failed to pass.
Madeline Thomas did not get her casino either. She doesn’t need the casino. When Lars Bjork died of pneumonia about six months after his son placed him in the Memory Unit of the Beaver Creek Retirement Village, Warren announced, with much fanfare, that he was going to donate his father’s Latouche County house to the Klalo Nation along with the road and a corridor of trees. The Klalos will operate the house as an exclusive destination resort for lovers of nature, with Maddie’s cousin Bitsy Thomas as resident housekeeper. Profits from the hotel will fund a craft center in Two Falls. Sheriff McCormick is actively promoting a county health clinic in Two Falls as well. The remainder of Lars Bjork’s county property, primarily forest surrounding the Klalo hotel, will go to the State of Washington in lieu of taxes.
Warren Bjork’s fit of generosity came about as the result of delicate cajolery on the part of Chief Thomas, somewhat less delicate nudging in that direction on the part of Sheriff McCormick, and a hearty kick from the attorney general.
Catherine Parrish Bjork’s substantial and well-invested estate, accrued from her marital settlement, was divided equally in her will among the Sierra Club, the Nature Conservancy, and the Columbia Gorge Foundation.
As for the county, it is still as beautiful as a Chinese watercolor on cold winter days, the prevailing winds still blow east and west, and when the mountains to the north and south rumble in their uneasy slumber, the land still moves.
Mickey Simonson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sheila Simonson is the author of eleven novels, seven of them mysteries. She taught English and history at the community college level until she retired to write full-time. She is the mother of a grown son and lives with her husband in Vancouver, Washington. She likes to hear from readers, who can visit her website at http://sheila.simonson.googlepages.com.
MORE MYSTERIES
FROM PERSEVERANCE PRESS
For the New Golden Age
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REBECCA ROTHENBERG
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The Tumbleweed Murders
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SHEILA SIMONSON
LATOUCHE COUNTY SERIES
Buffalo Bill’s Defunct
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An Old Chaos
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REFERENCE/
MYSTERY WRITING
KATHY LYNN EMERSON
How To Write Killer
Historical Mysteries:
The Art and Adventure of
Sleuthing Through the Past
Agatha Award, Best Nonfiction.
Anthony and Macavity Award
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ISBN 978-1-880284-92-6
CAROLYN WHEAT
How To Write Killer Fiction:
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the Roller Coaster of Suspense
ISBN 978-1-880284-62-9
Available from your local bookstore or from
Perseverance Press/John Daniel & Co. at (800) 662-8351
or www.danielpublishing.com/perseverance.
Old Chaos (9781564747136) Page 27
