False Cast: a small town murder mystery (Frank Bennett Adirondack Mountain Mystery Series Book 5)

by S. W. Hubbard

This time she made no effort to conceal the call. “No, no! Don’t come here.” Doris rolled her eyes like a cow that knew it was on the way to the slaughterhouse. “What do you mean, you’re calling from the road? No, that’s not a good idea!”

  Frank stood in front of her desk with his hands on his hips. “What’s going on? What’s not a good idea?”

  Doris held out the receiver to him. “It’s Helen Cottlemeir. She wants to talk to you in person. She’ll be here in an hour.”

  With a highly excitable woman yammering in each of his ears, it took Frank a good ten minutes to figure out what was going on. Apparently, Joe Cottlemeir’s widow, Helen, had befriended Doris long-distance. She called several times a day to discuss the investigation of her husband’s case because the state police had grown weary of her questions. Doris, incapable of saying no to anyone, had been agreeing with Mrs. Cottlemeir that something was fishy in the investigation. And somehow Helen Cottlemeir had construed that as permission to drive all the way up from Saratoga talk to Frank in person about her problems.

  “You know I’m not working on your husband’s case, right?” Frank had put the call on speakerphone.

  Helen’s plaintive voice filled the outer office. “I know. It’s just—that other policeman, Lt. Meyerson—he doesn’t listen to me. And now he won’t even take my calls. So I just thought…I mean, you were so nice when it, it happened, I thought maybe I could tell you this and you would know what to do.”

  “Oh, yes,” Doris chimed in. “Chief Bennett always knows what to do. And like I always say, he’s really a lot nicer than people realize.”

  The combination of Doris’s backhanded compliment, Meyerson’s refusal to take calls from the victim’s wife, and the fact that the woman was about to exit the Northway in Keene Valley wore down Frank’s resistance. He was sure he’d regret it.

  “Show her in when she gets here,” Frank told Doris, but don’t bother me before that.

  Finally, he was alone with Earl.

  “Well, what happened?”

  “I talked to Edwin and Lucy separately,” Earl said.

  “Good. Exactly right.”

  “They both told me the same thing. The computer is in the office, and the office is directly accessible from the back hall, and the back door is always—”

  “Unlocked. It is. I yell at them about that all the time,” Frank said.

  “So someone other than Edwin and Lucy could have accessed Facebook from that computer, but that doesn’t explain the photo.” Earl pulled out his notebook. “This is where Edwin got kinda agitated. You see, it’s possible to share photo albums in the Cloud.”

  Frank shut his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “The picture that was posted on Facebook came from Edwin and Lucy’s Cloud account. But both of them claim they never saw it before. And both of them showed me their phones and the picture wasn’t on either one. Lucy let me have access to their Cloud account because she was so sure I wouldn’t find anything. But there was one shared album in their Cloud account—all pictures of Olivia clowning for the camera. Once I discovered that, Edwin got agitated and told me to leave. He wouldn’t say another word. He kept hushing Lucy.”

  “So who was the album shared with?”

  Earl shrugged. “On the screen it just said ‘best friends.’ If I could have kept digging, I could have found the email address of the other person. Now, we’ll need a warrant to search. And Edwin’s probably deleting the account right now.”

  Frank paced around the office. What was Edwin playing at? Was he hellbent on destroying his life? Was Olivia destined to have a parent or guardian in prison throughout her life?

  “You know, Frank—this might look worse than it actually is,” Earl said. “Maybe Edwin is as confused as we are. Maybe he’s trying to protect Olivia, not himself.”

  Frank stopped pacing. “How so?”

  “Olivia herself could have created that shared Cloud account. I mean, Lucy and Edwin both seemed surprised when I found it.”

  Frank made a keep rolling motion. He still didn’t know where Earl was headed.

  “So whoever she shared it with is who she’s with now. And that person made it look like the Facebook post came from the inn.”

  “Are you saying Anita did this? Did she learn hacking in prison, too?”

  “That would make more sense if Anita had lost custody.” Earl ran his hands over his new buzz cut. “I dunno. I’m pretty confused.”

  “That makes two of us. We don’t have enough evidence to arrest Edwin or anyone else. I guess I have to talk to Trudy next.”

  But Frank made no move to reach for the phone.

  Chapter 34

  Doris tapped on the office door and poked her head in cautiously. She seemed to expect Frank might throw a shoe at her. “Mrs. Cottlemeir is here. And Earl, there’s a call on line two about a stolen truck.”

  “Bring her in.” Frank had to admit he was glad of the distraction. Earl slipped away to answer the truck complaint.

  Doris bustled in with a cup of tea and a box of tissues for her new friend. She patted Mrs. C on the shoulder, gave Frank a guilty glance, and left.

  “What can I do for you, ma’am? If there’s something you need to know about how the investigation is progressing, I can call Lt. Meyerson and ask.”

  She nodded, twisting a tissue in her work-roughened fingers. “He gave me some updates at first, but lately…” She shook her head.

  “Investigations take time. I understand how hard it is to wait. Still, he should take your calls.” Frank reached for his phone. Putting Meyerson on the spot wouldn’t bother him at all.

  “I have a question I think you can answer, but first you have to know everything so you understand why I’m asking.” She started digging through her large purse. “First there’s this letter, which really threw me for a loop.” She handed it across the desk to Frank. “He left it with all our financial records.”

  My dearest Helen,

  I love you so much and you are the best wife any man could ever ask for. All I’ve ever wanted was to take care of you and our family. Everything will be all right. You will have the money you need for yourself and the kids and for Joey. Just be patient and trust me that it will all work out. The password for all the bank accounts is gonefishing22.“

  Love,

  Joe

  The letter seemed like a pretty standard message to leave behind, except for that line Just be patient and trust me that it will all work out.

  “What money is he referring to?” Frank asked. “What do you have to be patient for?”

  “When I first read it, I figured he must’ve meant the life insurance payment from the policy he has through work.” Helen Cottlemeir squirmed in her seat and gazed up at the ceiling. “Joe took care of all our finances. I never paid the bills or deposited the checks or anything. I know that’s old-fashioned. But he liked doing math and paperwork, and I liked doing the cooking. He gave me money every week for the groceries, and everything else we always shopped for together. Even my clothes. Joe liked to shop.”

  She started to cry. “He always talked me into buying things I didn’t really need. He’d say, ‘Go ahead. Treat yourself. You deserve it.’“

  Frank began to feel a little sympathy for Meyerson. Maybe the lieutenant had been on the receiving end of one too many rambling calls like this.

  He tried to bring her back on topic. “So your husband left a letter telling you about his life insurance policy. Most responsible people have life insurance. I don’t think—”

  She held up the sodden tissue to cut Frank off. “I’m sorry. I’m not making myself clear. A few months ago, Joe and I had a disagreement. A neighbor of ours died very suddenly, and his wife didn’t even know the passwords to their bank accounts, didn’t know all the places where their retirement funds were. So I said to Joe, I don’t want that to happen to me. You’d better write it all down for me, show me what to do just in case something would happen. God forbid.” Thi
s kicked off another crying jag.

  Frank took a steadying breath. No wonder Helen had hit it off with Doris—they both rambled like poison ivy next to a stream.

  Helen gulped the now tepid tea Doris had left. “I’m sorry. I still can’t get used to the fact that he’s gone.” She wiped her eyes and continued. “Joe got real prickly that day. He said there was no need for me to suddenly get involved in our finances when he’d been doing them for thirty years. I said I just wanted to be prepared. And he said he wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, so I shouldn’t worry about it. I let it drop. I’m not a person who likes to argue.”

  And then Joe did die.

  Helen blew her nose and continued. “So after the funeral, I went through the desk drawers hoping I could find what I needed to pay the bills. And that’s when I found this, right on top.”

  She paused with the letter held aloft as if she’d just unveiled the Holy Grail.

  Frank was not impressed. “I suppose once he calmed down, he left you the information you wanted. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to admit you’d been right all along. Men are like that. I oughta know.”

  Helen perched on the edge of her chair, her frizzy gray curls bobbing in disagreement. “The letter wasn’t there on Thursday evening, the day before he left for the fishing trip. I know because I went into that drawer looking for a large paper clip, and there was no letter then. He put it in there late Thursday night or early Friday morning. Then he left for the trip.” She gripped the tea mug and lowered her voice. “He knew he wasn’t coming back.”

  The timing was certainly odd. Frank felt a prick of excitement. Maybe Helen really was onto something, but he wasn’t ready to let her see it. He continued to play devil’s advocate. “Maybe knowing you were going to be apart from each other for a few days inspired him to do the right thing.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” She dove into the giant purse again and produced some printed pages. “This is a printout of all our bank transactions for the past three months.” Mrs. C came around to Frank’s side of the desk and placed the pages before him. The heading read, “Money Manager’s Plus—Combined Checking and Savings.”

  Every two weeks, the deposit column showed $2,576. Clearly, a paycheck.

  Then in the withdrawals column there were regular cash transfers to the cable company, the phone company, and the electric company. A few other checks—nothing over a couple hundred dollars. Standard middle class finances.

  Then Frank’s gaze settled on a five-figure withdrawal. $5,000 in cash withdrawn on February 22. Then $7,500 in cash withdrawn on March 15. Finally, on the day before Joe Cottlemeir’s death, a cash withdrawal of $10,000.

  Their account had gone from over $30,000 to under $1,000 in three months.

  Now Frank was really interested. Surely Meyerson had noticed this? “And you have no idea why he was withdrawing cash?”

  “When I first saw it, I figured he must’ve given the money to our daughter to help out with Joey, our grandson. He’s three and he had to have heart surgery to fix a problem he was born with. The insurance covered the operation, but the medicines, the oxygen, the tube feeding, the special therapy—all that is extra. Our daughter had to quit her job to take care of Joey. Her husband works hard, but he doesn’t make enough to pay all the medical bills. So we were helping them out wherever we could.”

  Helen stopped talking. Her eyes focused for so long on the wall behind Frank that he swiveled to see what was there. Just an Adirondack Scenes calendar that had never been flipped to this month.

  Finally, she spoke. “I talked to our daughter. She said her father told her to just give him any bill they couldn’t handle and he’d take care of it. So she did. And then last month, the bill collectors started calling her. Said that the oxygen equipment Joey needs at night hadn’t been paid for and they were going to come take it away. She called her dad and he said it was just a mix-up and not to tell me or I would worry. That he’d handle it.”

  This sounded like a plausible explanation for at least one of the withdrawals. Perhaps the company hadn’t been willing to wait for a check and Cottlemeir had gone to them to settle up with cash. But Frank could tell by the look on Helen’s face that the logical explanation wasn’t true.

  “He didn’t pay the bill?”

  “He did, in part. That bill was less than a thousand dollars, and Joe paid $150—enough to shut them up for a while. My son-in-law got worried and started following up on the other bills they’d given Joe to pay. None of them had been paid in full. Joe had given the companies small payments just to keep them satisfied. He used a credit card. One I never knew we had.”

  This time Frank could anticipate what was about to come out of the big purse. Sure enough, credit card statements showing a Visa maxed out at twenty grand. Frank scanned the Visa statement; every charge sounded medical-related. Two pharmacies, a medical equipment supply vendor, a physical therapist, a nutritionist. The balance on the credit card had continued to climb as Joe had made only the minimum payment each month.

  So where had the cash from the savings account been going? Why hadn’t he used it to pay off the card? Gambling, drinking, drugs, a mistress? Anything was possible, even with a guy who seemed like the salt-of-the earth family man. Frank hated to visit more pain upon Helen, but the question had to be asked. “Did your husband gamble, Mrs. Cottlemeir?”

  “A fifty-fifty raffle ticket at the church bazaar, ten bucks to join the office Super Bowl pool—nothing more than that.”

  That he told you. Clearly, Cottlemeir had his secrets. But drugs and alcohol didn’t seem to be one of them. Frank had seen the autopsy report. Nothing had been found in Cottlemeir’s system except the half a beer he’d been drinking when he died. Surely an addict all alone for the weekend would be high. That left gambling.

  But if Cottlemeir had been in debt to a loan shark, the enforcer most likely would have roughed him up to scare him into paying. Killing Cottlemeir when he still owed money seemed counterproductive. The facts didn’t quite hold together, but that was Meyerson’s problem.

  “This is certainly useful information, Mrs. Cottlemeir. Didn’t you show all this to the state police?”

  “Yes, I did. They’ve seen it all. Including this.”

  Back she went into the bag.

  There was more? Good grief! Frank sank back into his chair waiting for the next revelation.

  Helen handed over a thick envelope from the Pilgrim Life Insurance Company. He pulled out the document. Two lines had been highlighted with yellow marker:

  Benefit paid in the case of accidental death: Two Million dollars.

  Beneficiaries: Helen J. Cottlemeir and Joseph Cottlemeir Wilson (minor).

  “Did you know he had this?”

  “Yes, he told me he bought a small extra policy right after Joey had his first operation. What he didn’t tell me about was the accidental death clause.” The widow leaned forward and put her hands on the desk separating them. “You saw Joe with your own eyes, so I know you’ll have the answer. You see, they kept his head covered when they showed me the body.” She took a deep breath and gazed into Frank’s eyes. “Is there any chance that Joe could have…could have committed suicide?”

  Frank’s mouth opened but he stopped himself from blurting out “Are you kidding me?” Clearly the poor woman was coming unglued. He and Meyerson both had made it very clear that her husband had been gunned down from behind. Ambushed, but maybe they hadn’t used that harsh word. “Ma’am, he was shot in the back of the head.” Frank indicated the spot on his own head.

  “So he couldn’t have…?” She made a twisting motion with her hand.

  “No. And the weapon wasn’t found. And there was no residue on his hands. I realize the money problems and the life insurance seem a little suspicious, but it’s absolutely impossible that your husband could have committed suicide.”

  She nodded. “That’s what the state police said, but I didn’t totally trust them. Because I
’ve been telling them how strange all this is, how none of it seems like the Joe I know, and they just don’t listen. I guess I just needed a second opinion.”

  Her head drooped as if she might be praying. Then she looked into Frank’s eyes “Thank you for setting my mind at rest. Because suicide is a mortal sin you know—we both believe that.”

  Chapter 35

  The library was mercifully empty when Frank showed up hoping to share whatever Penny had packed for lunch.

  “All I brought is salad, but you’re in luck. There are appetizers left over from last night in the fridge.”

  Frank popped a mini-quiche in his mouth and chewed. They had been better when they were hot. “I feel like I’ve lived a week in one morning.” He told Penny about Mrs. Cottlemeir’s visit. “There was no end in sight to the grandson’s medical bills. Cottlemeir must’ve thought he’d gamble some of his savings to pay off the old bills and prepare for the new ones. But he lost it all and was doubly screwed.”

  “So you think someone killed him because of his gambling debts?” Penny held a forkful of salad suspended. “That seems so, so…Brooklyn.”

  “He’s from Saratoga. There’s horseracing there. Maybe there are loan sharks too. Anyway, I set her mind at ease that Joe didn’t commit suicide. Now I need someone to set my mind at ease that Edwin hasn’t pulled off an abduction.”

  Penny’s eyes grew rounder and rounder as he filled her in on Earl’s encounter with Edwin over the Facebook post.

  “But if Edwin took her, who did he give her to? Who is Olivia with?” Penny asked.

  Before Frank could answer, the library phone rang.

  “Trout Run Library, Penny Bennett speaking. How may I help you?”

  Frank still got a kick out of hearing his wife refer to herself as Penny Bennett, so he was gazing at her fondly when he noticed her hand tighten on the receiver.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” Penny looked at him and raised a silencing finger to her lips. Then she pressed the speakerphone button.