Lonesome Lake

by Lesley Appleton-Jones

  The Mayor’s head jerked back as if Raines had struck him on his electoral chin. But Randolph wasn’t someone who backed down so easily. “I’ve told the Chief to take a close look at the husband. Milbourne comes across as a smug bastard. Not too shook up, either. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you that with all of the crime shows on TV, any idiot could fake a homicide, and Milbourne strikes me as intelligent and sneaky enough to pull it off. Furthermore, Detective Jakes has never flown solo on a case of this magnitude before.”

  This was true. Sherry’s case hadn’t been hers. It had been Gustafson’s, but the Chief had let her arrest Nate as a reward for uncovering some crucial evidence.

  “Holly can handle it.” There was a definite undercurrent of anger in Raines’ tone.

  Holly was about to say she could defend herself, but the Mayor didn’t give her a chance.

  “She hasn’t found out who’s responsible for those break-ins yet.”

  An awkward silence filled the room.

  Raines said, “If you lock in on Milbourne and you’re wrong, don’t come to me for a stable when the press makes you look like a donkey’s ass.”

  Holly bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

  The Mayor’s mouth went slack. “Gustafson and Hendricks should handle this interview,” he sputtered.

  Holly snapped, “Lieutenant Gustafson is out on sick leave.”

  The Mayor’s jowls wobbled as he shook his head. “At great sacrifice to his comfort, Gus refused to stay home. It’s all hands on deck for this one, and he’s not about to let the department down. He’s on his way in.”

  Chief Finch cut in. “Holly is handling the interview, Milt. That’s final.”

  Randolph glowered at her. “He’s put too much trust in you, Jakes. Screw this up, and it will cost you. And this will cost you, Fred!” He said it with the decisiveness of Henry VIII proclaiming “Off with her head!” And with those departing words, he stormed out of the office.

  The Chief blew out a loud sigh. “The Mayor is a real nutcracker, but he’s right. There is something shifty about Milbourne. Just can’t put my finger on what it is.”

  “People react differently to bad news,” Holly suggested.

  “I don’t need a tutorial on reading people, Jakes. As you’ve heard, neither the Mayor nor Hendricks is thrilled about you interviewing Milbourne. Just because you don’t think it’s a domestic, don’t go down the opposite road. Put pressure on Milbourne. See if you can get anything out of him. I’ll be watching.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Charles Milbourne sat slumped in a chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him as if in prayer. The Chief had called him “Shifty.” It was not a word Holly would have used to describe him. Devastated was more fitting. Or shattered. His face was white, his eyes bloodshot and damp from crying.

  She detested this part of her job. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach at the thought of questioning him. She crushed the rush of sympathy by reminding herself that intimate partners were responsible for more than half of all female homicides. Milbourne could have staged it, with his anguish nothing more than remorse or fear of being caught.

  Holly made the introductions and offered their condolences.

  He stared at her, his eyes wide with worry. “What happened to my wife? Why was she over in Franconia Notch and not at the house?”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have all the answers yet.” Holly leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. She didn’t do this to comfort him. She did it to build a bond with him, the same way politicians do when shaking hands. “I’m sorry for your loss. I wish I could leave you in peace, but we need to find out why this happened.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. He just nodded.

  “Can you think of anyone who wanted to hurt your wife?”

  “No,” he choked out.

  “Is there anyone who may want to hurt you?”

  “Me? No. There’s no one. I just can’t believe this is happening.” Tears filled his eyes and ran down his puffy cheeks. “I just want to see my wife.” A sob caught in his throat.

  His grief caused Holly’s stomach to churn. “We’ll be notified when you can see her.” She slid a box of tissues closer to him. “Can you tell me about the last time you saw your wife?”

  “It was yesterday morning. We had breakfast together before I left for the office at around eight. Mimi had a free day and planned to drive up after lunch. She left a message on the home phone to say that she’d arrived, and to call her if I got in before ten. I didn’t get home in time.”

  Holly gave him a reassuring nod. “Where were you?”

  He stared down at his hands. “I had to work late at the office.”

  “Is that usual for a Friday night?”

  He lowered his voice, looked down at the table and repeated her question.

  Raines and Holly glanced at each other. Repeating a question was a common tactic to stall for time. He was hiding something.

  After a few seconds, he mumbled, “It happens. It’s why Mimi came up on her own.”

  “What time did you leave the office?”

  Milbourne kept his eyes fixed on his hands. “It was late.”

  “How late?”

  “I’m not sure, but it was late.” He glanced over at the door. He looked haggard. “Detective Jakes. I want to cooperate. I just don’t know anything.”

  She continued. “And after you left the office, where did you go?”

  “Home.”

  “And what time did you arrive?” She pushed him but kept her tone soft.

  “It was well after ten.”

  “Were you with a client?”

  He didn’t make eye contact. “No.”

  “What kept you so late?”

  “I had to finish a few last-minute transactions for someone.”

  “But the stock market is closed at night.”

  His neck reddened. He glanced over at the door again. “We do offer other services.”

  Holly had hit on something, but that didn’t mean it had anything to do with his wife’s murder. She’d learned years ago that people lie to the police for the most irrational reasons. “Did you speak to anyone?”

  His voice hardened. “I tried to reach a couple of clients but was unsuccessful.”

  “How about your secretary? Did she stay late?”

  “No.”

  “What’s her name?”

  He hesitated again. “Claudia Schuyler.” He placed his face in his hands, pressing his fingers against his eyes. “Do we have to do this right now?”

  “I’m afraid we do. For Mimi.” Although she showed no outward signs of being on the scent of a lead, Holly’s heart began to beat faster. She wasn’t mistaken. He was definitely hiding something. Perhaps Hendricks was right after all. Perhaps this respectable, middle-aged man had devised a heinous plot to murder his wife. Holly had to tread carefully, though. It was too soon in the investigation to alienate him by pushing too hard. She didn’t want him to lawyer up. All she had to do right now was lock him into a story. She softened her tone again. “And you were due to meet her at the cabin today?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did your wife have friends in the Caxton area?”

  “As I said earlier, we don’t socialize up here. If we do, it’s with the Allens and Richmonds, but they are away. The cabin was supposed to be an escape for us—our getaway. We’re both busy people and don’t often get to spend time together. We’re attempting to slow down now. Take time off on the weekends.”

  Holly gave him a gentle, encouraging smile. “Does Lonesome Lake hold any significance for you?”

  “No. We’ve never been there.”

  “Can you tell me about your marriage?”

  His shoulders drooped even lower. “We just celebrated our thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

  “That’s a long time. A lot can happen in thirty years. Good times and bad times.�
��

  He frowned. “We had a strong marriage.”

  She was careful to let tenderness soften her tone. “But everyone has a few bumps along the way.”

  His nostrils flared, and he sat up straighter. “Not us.”

  She gave him a reassuring nod. “You’re sure there was no one else up here she knew?”

  He blinked. “You’re insinuating that my wife was having an affair?” His face flushed. “That’s preposterous.”

  “Sometimes we don’t always know what our partners are doing.”

  “If she’d been unhappy in our marriage, she would have left me, not resorted to an affair.”

  Holly’s next question hit harder. “Did you argue before you left for work yesterday?”

  Milbourne looked surprised. “No. Of course not. We don’t argue.”

  “In thirty years of marriage, you must have had some disagreements?”

  “Rarely. If we do, it’s usually about trivial matters such as where we want to eat.”

  “What about her lifestyle? Would that have changed if she’d left you?”

  “My wife is a successful businesswoman. She runs an insurance brokerage. Let me assure you, she didn’t need my money. Even if she weren’t financially independent, she wouldn’t let that keep her in an unhealthy relationship. Mimi was a force to be reckoned with.” His voice broke.

  Holly gave him a moment. “So, your wife wouldn’t go quietly if someone tried to force her?”

  “No way. Not Mimi. She’d fight.”

  Before Holly could stop herself, she pictured Mimi’s broken body. Without a doubt, Mimi Milbourne had fought to the end. “Would she open the door to a stranger?”

  “No way, especially not at night.”

  “Do either of you own a gun?”

  “No. Mimi wouldn’t have them in the house.”

  Holly noticed that he’d started to lose focus. He gave her a vacant stare. “Okay, Mr. Milbourne. Just a few more questions. Can you tell me about the people who worked with her? Did she mention any disgruntled employees, any problematic clients?”

  “No one who comes to mind.”

  “What type of insurance did she sell?”

  “The usual. Auto, property, life…” He drifted for a moment. “She was always so busy. Always trying to grow her business. She added viaticals and life settlements.”

  Holly frowned. “What are viaticals?”

  “They’re financial agreements for the terminally ill. A person who has less than two years to live can sell their life insurance policy. A buyer purchases the policy for less than the death benefit amount. Usually, the insured receives between sixty to eighty percent of the value of the policy.”

  Holly shifted in her seat. “So someone buying a hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy could make as much as forty-thousand dollars?”

  Charles Milbourne began to relax as he talked. “Yes, but the buyer has to pay any premiums necessary to maintain the policy. The buyer collects when the policyholder dies, or they can re-sell the policy.”

  “Is that even legal?”

  “Yes, of course, it is.”

  “But investors are profiting from someone’s death. It seems pretty grim for the policyholder. The faster you die, the more the investor makes.”

  He shrugged. “It works because it benefits both parties. A policyholder has the funds to pay off a mortgage, buy experimental drugs, take a dream vacation with their family before they die.”

  Holly asked, “What’s the difference between a viatical and a life settlement?”

  “For a life settlement, the life expectancy is between two and twelve years.”

  “What was your wife’s role in the process?”

  “Mimi brokered the deal between the policyholder and the company buying the policy.”

  “She earned a finder’s fee?”

  “She earned a commission from brokering the deal.” There was an edge to his voice.

  Holly processed this newly gleaned information as a cop and checked it for motive. Milbourne put a healthy spin on it, but it seemed shady. Someone profiting from another’s untimely death sent her motive twitchometer into the red. But the motive pieces didn’t quite fit. She could see someone bumping off the policyholder so that they didn’t have to wait to get their money, but Mimi was the broker. She’d already made her money. There was nothing to gain from her death. Then her whirling thoughts clunked into place, and a fiery surge of conviction rushed through her like a shot of Jack Daniels. There was an obvious motive.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Although Holly felt like she’d hit the motive jackpot, she remained calm and professional. Too much eagerness could derail an interview. “What about the beneficiaries listed on the life insurance policy?”

  Charles shrugged. “What about them?”

  “Surely some beneficiaries aren’t exactly happy to learn they’re not going to inherit all of the money when the person dies? That’s a large chunk of cash missing from the estate.”

  Unperturbed, Charles continued. “The policyholder completes a change of beneficiary form, and Mimi advises the client to discuss the viatical with their family before signing.”

  Raines leaned forward and said, “Before joining the Sheriff’s department, I worked for the DEA.”

  Holly knew she probably had the same ‘so what?’ expression on her face as Charles Milbourne did.

  “While there, I heard about a record-breaking drug bust on board a Russian fishing boat that had over twelve tons of cocaine hidden beneath rotting bait.”

  Holly pressed her lips together and squinted at him, trying to signal that he was supposed to just sit there and observe.

  Undeterred, he continued. “The drug revenue was worth millions, but the investigation revealed an elaborate money-laundering scheme that involved a drug cartel working with a viatical purchasing company.”

  Holly’s annoyance at his interruption evaporated. She relaxed back against the chair.

  “I can’t remember the specifics, but drug money was used to purchase viaticals, which the drug dealers then cashed in early. Although they incurred a penalty for doing this, they received laundered funds in return. Perhaps your wife stumbled upon something that put her in danger,” Raines suggested.

  “Mimi would have told me if she had. She was too smart to keep anything that significant a secret.”

  When neither of the men seemed to have anything more to add, Holly resumed her questioning. “Did your wife ever discuss being threatened?”

  “No.”

  “Were there any financial difficulties either at home or work?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Did you discuss your work with her?”

  He tensed and hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough to re-tickle Holly’s suspicious nature. Raines shifted in his seat as if to signal to her that he’d picked up on it, too.

  Milbourne glanced at the door again. “Occasionally, but we became less interested in talking about work and more interested in our golf handicaps.”

  “And how is your business? Any problems there?” she asked him without changing the tone of her voice even though she felt the fizz of excitement. There was something about his job that made him uncomfortable.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “No. Nothing. I make a comfortable living.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned his attention to Raines. “I’m exhausted. This has been a horrendous day. How many more questions are there?”

  “Not many.”

  Milbourne sighed.

  Holly gave him an encouraging smile. “I just need the names of anyone she knew up here.”

  “As I said before, we don’t socialize up here. If we do, we spend time with the Allens and Richmonds, who are from Boston. They have vacation homes here, but they’re away.”

  “Do you have their phone numbers?”

  He nodded, pulled out his phone and gave their mobile numbers to Holly. She jotted them down and sai
d, “You must know some other people in Caxton.”

  “Well, sure. We know Bob Beaupré. He’s the realtor who manages the cabin for us when we aren’t here.” He frowned.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s probably nothing,” he began.

  Holly wondered how many probably nothings turned into definite somethings.

  He continued, “But now that I think about it, Beaupré hired Gavin Parrish to do the snowplowing and yard work for us, but he screwed up. He mowed down some of Mimi’s flowers. I can’t remember the details, but I do know Mimi fired him.”

  This confirmed the information Boonie had given her before he stormed out of her house. No time to think about that, she reminded herself as her thoughts started to drift back to earlier that morning.

  Milbourne sagged low in his chair. “She knows Scotty Pepper. He’s a local private investigator. Perhaps he knows something.”

  Scotty Pepper. Now that was interesting, Holly noted. Had Scotty mentioned knowing Mimi to Raines? If so, had Raines forgotten to tell her or had he deliberately kept that golden nugget to himself? “How did she know Scotty?”

  “Mimi had a couple of fraud cases up here. She hired him to take video footage of the people she suspected were defrauding insurance companies. She told me he was a veteran and the most skilled private investigator she’d met. She liked him.”

  This was nothing new to Holly. Most women liked Scotty. In high school, he’d had a reputation for playing around off the football field more than on it. He’d been the team’s joker, which made him popular with the guys, but he was also handsome and a born flirt, which made him irresistible to the girls. “Do you know who he was following?”

  “No,” Milbourne said, standing up. “Now I really need to see Mimi.”

  She also stood and moved to the door.

  “We appreciate your help, Mr. Milbourne. I’ll find someone to take you to see her.”

  A few minutes later, they watched Milbourne walk out of the station with Fennis Cooper.

  “So, what do you think?” Raines asked her.

  “There’s more fluff to his alibi than a jar of marshmallow. He’s hiding something related to his work, and that whole viatical business doesn’t sit right with me. Wall Street investing in how long someone has to live is one of the creepiest things I ever heard.”