by B. T. Lord
“Do you mind if we step inside? It’s awfully cold out here.”
Cammie winced. The woman’s voice was high pitched, with a thick New York accent.
“Oh, isn’t this place just darling!” she exclaimed, the last word sounding like ‘dawling’. “Very rustic. Very cozy. Very--” She hesitated for a moment. “Maine-ish.”
Cammie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she frantically looked around for a place to park the still sobbing man in her arms. An icy wind was blowing. If she didn’t close the door soon, she’d turn blue from the cold. The woman must have sensed her discomfort, because she turned back and patted the man on the back.
“Please honey bunny, get hold of yourself. You’re going to scare the sheriff.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” He straightened himself. “I am sorry. I just can’t believe – Eli--”
Afraid he was going to start bawling again all over her sweater, Cammie quickly disentangled herself from his grasp and gratefully shut the door.
“You were a friend of Eli’s?” she asked, rubbing her arms in an effort to get warm.
“Oh, aren’t we just too gauche? We didn’t introduce ourselves.” The woman took a step forward and extended her slender gloved hand. “I’m Audella Tyler. This is my husband Lehane. He was Eli’s agent and long-time friend. We were in Chicago when we heard the terrible news on the ESP network.” Cammie thought she’d meant to say ESPN, but couldn’t be sure. “We caught the first flight out we could find. We would have been here sooner, but the snowy roads were slippery. It took us forever to find Twin Lakes.”
“Twin Ponds,” Cammie replied automatically. Audella raised a puzzled eyebrow, then nodded.
“Yeah. Twin Ponds. And your place was impossible to find. We must have driven past your road a dozen times.” She leaned over and whispered, “I think somebody stole your street sign.”
Cammie thought it a waste of time to explain there were no street signs outside of downtown Twin Ponds.
“Do you know what happened?” Lehane asked, finally getting himself under control. “Have you caught the bastard who did this?”
“We’re following up on some very promising leads,” Cammie replied carefully. She bade them to sit down and noticed the look of discomfort on Audella’s face as she sat on the lumpy couch. She inwardly sighed. Rick was right. She really was going to have to replace that sofa.
“Eli and I were very close,” Lehane replied. “It’s still difficult to believe that he’s gone.”
“Are you up to a few questions? It would be extremely helpful to the investigation.”
Lehane and Audella nodded. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help find whoever did this.”
“Do you mind if I record the interview?”
They both shook their heads. Cammie retrieved a small voice activated recorder from the inside pocket of her parka and put it on the coffee table between them. She then removed a stack of hockey magazines that were piled on the only other chair in the room and put it opposite the couple. She sat down, turned on the recorder, tagged the time, date and who the participants were, then began her questioning.
“When was the last time you spoke to Eli?”
“Last week. Thursday I think.”
“Oh no, sweetheart,” Audella piped up. “It was Wednesday. We were watching that reality show about housewives from Beverly Hills and Eli interrupted us.” She looked to Cammie. “I just love that show. The clothes they wear are to die for.”
“I’m sure,” Cammie responded. She turned to Lehane. “Do you recall what the conversation was about?”
“He told me he was on his way back here. He was looking forward to it and was hoping that you’d be here.”
“Me?”
“You are the Cammie Farnsworth who used to play hockey with Eli back when you were in high school, aren’t you?”
Audella squealed. “Oh my! You played hockey too?”
Cammie felt the whoosh of emotion fly through her. She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure.
“How would you describe his state of mind?”
Lehane thought for a moment. “Upbeat, I’d have to say. Hopeful. He really wanted to see you again. Tie up some loose ends, he said.”
Cammie inwardly moaned as Audella turned an interested eye to her. “Say Sheriff, were you and Eli high school sweethearts or something?”
“We were teammates,” Cammie said a little too sharply. “When you say tie up loose ends, is there any particular reason he would have wished to do so?”
Cammie watched as Lehane’s expression turned wary, then sad. She knew what he was going to say before he said it, but she waited for him to speak.
“Um, there is a reason, but Eli was very careful to keep it private.”
“You can tell me, Mr. Tyler,” she offered sympathetically.
He hesitated, then sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. You see, Eli had terminal cancer. He didn’t want anyone to know. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was pity. That and the relentless invasion of privacy the paparazzi are particularly skilled at.” He glanced at her, waiting to see her reaction. Cammie kept her face neutral as she gave a short nod.
“His illness was discovered during the autopsy.”
“So you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It was a terrible blow to him. To all of us, really. He vowed to fight it and he did, as bravely as he could. But in the end…” Cammie thought he was going to cry again. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and gave her a cheerless smile. “That’s why he came here. He wanted to tie things up from his past.”
Both Lehane and Audella gave her an expectant look, as if she could tell them what Eli would not. Instead, she swiftly changed the subject.
“Was he involved with anyone at the time of his return to Twin Ponds?”
To her surprise, Lehane laughed. “If you mean for more than a week, I’d have to say no. This is a case where the rags were right. Eli cut quite a swath through the ladies from one end of the U.S. to the other. I always had the feeling he was looking for something he couldn’t quite find. Something I think he regretted letting go of a long time ago and was hoping to recapture with someone else.”
Dear God.
Cammie quickly interjected. “So there wasn’t any one woman in particular he was seeing?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What about a male friend?”
“Eli was kind of funny that way. Don’t get me wrong. Eli was a party animal. He loved to have people around him. But as far as I know he never really opened up to them. I think I’m the only one he ever spoke to about his past.”
“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Eli?” Both Lehane and Audella frowned. “The day after his arrival, he began to receive threatening notes.”
The two exchanged surprised looks, piquing Cammie’s interest.
“Darling, didn’t the same thing happen a few years back?” Audella asked.
Lehane thought for a moment, then shook his head. “It can’t be the same person.”
“Anything might be important,” Cammie prompted.
“It was the year before Eli retired. He missed an easy slapshot and blew the team’s chances of advancing into the finals for the Stanley Cup. The press was unmerciful. Soon afterwards, he started receiving threatening notes.”
“Do you recall what they said?”
“The usual stuff. He was a loser and deserved to die. He was overpaid. He was washed up. I’m sure you understand – you don’t mind if I call you Cammie, do you? I feel as if I know you.” Cammie nodded. “People take the play-offs very seriously. Eli isn’t the first and he won’t be the last athlete who receives threatening notes when the team fails to advance. He became the scapegoat for every fan’s disappointment.”
“Did you ever discover who’d sent them?”
Lehane shook his head. “We had the police and FBI check it out, but after a
week or so, the notes stopped arriving.”
“Those notes wouldn’t still be around, would they?”
“We gave them to the authorities. If you really think they might be important, I’ll get on the phone tomorrow and see if I can track them down.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew her wallet. Taking out her business card, she handed it to Lehane.
“Here are my office and fax numbers, as well as my email address. I’d appreciate it if you could get the officer or agent’s name and phone number and call me with it. I’d like to ask them some additional questions regarding their investigation.”
“I’ll do that.” He opened his coat and Cammie saw that it was lined in satin. He withdrew his own business card and handed it to her. “That’s my cell. Audella and I are staying at a small inn just outside of town.”
“What an adorable place,” Audella replied. The way she said it, Cammie knew she meant to say, what an adorable place in the middle of nowhere. Imagine, a nice clean establishment in the Maine wilderness with running water and working toilets.
“I was so shocked when the innkeeper opened his mouth and an English accent popped out!” Audella laughed.
“Since you were so close to Eli, do you know of anyone who would benefit from his death? You know, someone who might inherit his estate, that sort of thing?” Cammie was surprised to see a puzzled look cross over Lehane’s face before quickly disappearing. “Is there something I should know?” she pressed.
Lehane shook his head and smiled a dazzling white smile that was very reminiscent of Eli’s.
“No, I’m sure there’s no one who would benefit from his death. At least no one I’m aware of. Any more questions?”
Cammie shook her head and turned off the recorder.
“Thank you for your time.”
Lehane stood up and took Cammie’s hand in both of his. “It really is a pleasure to finally meet you. Eli always spoke so highly of you. We came, not only to help in any way we can, but to make sure his last wishes were carried out.”
“Last wishes?” Cammie asked.
“Yes. Eli told me there’s a pond here called Waban?”
“Yes there is.”
“He said that’s where he learned how to play hockey. He wanted his ashes to be strewn over the ice.”
It took all of Cammie’s fortitude not to break down. She clamped down fiercely on the tears that were forming as Lehane gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “If there’s anything you need, or any way we can be of help, don’t hesitate to call us any time of the day or night.”
“Likewise. We’ll be in touch.”
She escorted them to the door, nonplused when Audella suddenly leaned over and kissed her on both cheeks. “Too-da-loo,” she sang as she and Lehane disappeared into the night.
She closed the door and leaned on it. “Wow,” she replied aloud. If that was what a hot-shot sports agent looked and sounded like, maybe it was better the way her life had turned out.
She returned to her recliner and leaned over towards the stove in an effort to get warm. She deliberately pushed aside Lehane’s description of Eli’s last wishes. She couldn’t go there. Not yet. Instead, she sat back and stared at the room again, its silence creeping back in and enveloping everything in its path.
“Lovely,” she muttered under her breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cammie made herself sleep in her bed, refusing to acknowledge how empty it felt without Jace. She fell into a fitful sleep and was chagrined to discover upon awakening that she was gripping his pillow to her face, his faint scent filling her nostrils.
“For God’s sakes!” she yelled aloud, throwing the pillow against the far wall. In a fury, she ripped off the sheets and pillowcases and threw them in her washing machine. She then swept through the cabin, taking everything that belonged to Jace and throwing it all into a garbage bag which she then shoved into the back of her closet. She started to go for his hockey equipment, but caught herself. She remembered her own equipment and knew it was blasphemous to touch someone else’s gear. So she did the next best thing. She threw a blanket over his stuff.
Having exorcised his physical presence, she was determined to exorcise his ghostly presence as well, no matter how long it took.
She showered, threw on her uniform and grabbed a bowl of cereal. She ate it half-heartedly, knowing that if she didn’t at least change brands, she was soon going to turn into a soggy corn flake.
Reaching headquarters, she managed to sneak in the back door, and barricade herself in her office. A few moments later, Rick popped his head in.
“The good news is that the townspeople aren’t outside today screaming for your blood.”
“And the bad news?” she asked despite herself.
“The bad news is that there are more reporters outside screaming for your blood.”
“How many?” she asked.
“Last count about fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” she gasped.
“Yeah. They’re starting to arrive from the rest of New England. I’m guessing that by this afternoon, we’ll be hosting the entire eastern seaboard. By tomorrow, Chicago and Los Angeles should be joining the party.”
Cammie groaned.
“Maybe we should give them another statement,” Rick suggested hopefully.
She shook her head. “I don’t have anything to add to what I said yesterday, which was basically nothing to begin with.” She leaned her elbow on her desk and tapped her fingernail against her chin. “I suppose I could give Forensics a call and promise them my firstborn if they’ll give this case high priority, considering who the victim is.”
Rick smiled. “You planning on having kids someday?”
“At this point, it obviously won’t be with anyone within a hundred mile radius.”
“Or a hockey fan.”
She made a face, then handed him her recorder. “On your way out, will you ask Emmy to transcribe this?” She filled Rick in on Lehane and Audella’s visit. When she was done, he whistled.
“Hey, do you think there’s a possibility that crazy fan might have offed Eli?”
“Before yesterday, I wouldn’t have thought so. But after seeing how the townspeople are ready to rip me apart, I’d say there’s a big possibility this guy crossed the line.”
After Rick left, she picked up the phone to dial Forensics. She was halfway through dialing when she heard a knock on her door. Expecting to find Rick, she was surprised to find Lehane Tyler waving at her through the glass. She put down the receiver and gestured for him to enter.
“Looks like the paparazzi have arrived. When the press gets a scent, it’s like a pack of wolves hunting its prey. Some of the big guns from the networks are out there.” He smiled and for a moment, Cammie was reminded of the wolves he’d just mentioned. “Any possibility of a major snowstorm? I’d love to see them freeze their asses off.”
“I would think as a sports agent, you and the press would have some kind of decent relationship.”
“It’s like having an uneasy alliance with the devil. Yeah, sometimes I had to use them for the benefit of my clients. But this is a man’s death. I despise them picking over his bones and fighting for the scraps.”
He spat out the words and Cammie was thankful she’d never had to face him across a negotiating table. Then, just as quickly as he succumbed to his anger, he shook it off.
“Do you have a minute? I’d like to add to our conversation of last night.”
“Of course.”
He took off his camel hair coat and hung it up on the coat rack next to Cammie’s parka and collection of sweaters. He was dressed in an Italian knit sweater and black jeans that showed off his trim figure. Around his throat, he wore a white cashmere scarf. His cologne smelled familiar and it took her a few moments to recognize it as the same brand Eli had used. He sat down opposite Cammie and absently ran a finger down the sharp crease in his jeans.
Who puts a crease in their jeans?
Lehane smiled. “It’s Clive Christian No. 1. It sells for about $2,350 a bottle.”
Cammie’s jaw dropped. “What could they possibly put into a cologne that would cost so much?”
Lehane chuckled. “Professional sports are like any other high profile career. It’s not only how you play out in the field, it’s how you look off the field. In my case, it’s all about presentation.”
She nodded. It made sense. Lehane’s deals involved millions of dollars. He needed to look the part of the high priced agent in order to command respect from the team owners and other agents.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee? My receptionist Emmy makes a mean cup.”
“No thank you. Our innkeeper fed us very well this morning, including an endless supply of java.”
“I’m not surprised. Tudor is a very conscientious host.”
Lehane chuckled. “So that really is his name. I thought he was joking when he introduced himself as Tudor Montgomery. How appropriate for an Englishman to be named Tudor. Any idea how he ended up here?”
“I can’t say for sure. When I came back to Twin Ponds last year, he’d already been running the inn for at least five years. All I know for sure is that he once trod the boards in London as a Shakespearean actor.”
“So that explains the décor and the name.”
Tudor had named his establishment the Shakespeare in the Woods Inn. The outside was a replica of Shakespeare’s birthplace in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Within its pseudo-medieval timbers, he’d decorated each of the rooms in the theme of a particular Shakespeare play.
“Which room did he put you in?”
“I believe The Tempest.”
“Ah, that’s his most popular.”
Cammie remembered seeing it once and she’d never forgotten the beauty of the room. She wasn’t sure what the Tempest was about, but one look at the design told her it had something to do with magic. The ceiling was painted a dark blue, with gold stars sprinkled about, giving it the appearance of a bright, starry sky.
