by Karen Hayes
“Shared boyfriends?” Harve asked.
Carol blushed. “Oh, no. Aggie always had a lot more boyfriends than I did. I didn’t really date much in high school. When we went off to college, I dated a bit more. But Aggie wowed all the guys and dated a lot of them. Until she met Sheldon Lafferty, of course. From then on, there was no one for her but Shelly. My boyfriend and I double-dated with them several times. They were a lovely couple. I thought we might both get married at the same time, but…that didn’t happen.”
“You and your boyfriend broke up? Was he the only serious boyfriend you had?”
“He was. I loved him so much, maybe even more than Aggie loved Shelly. He was a nursing student like me, and poor. He was on scholarship, but there are still so many expenses associated with college. It’s not always easy. And he liked to spend money, you know. Liked to take me out, buy me things. So he stole drugs from the college and sold them. I didn’t know, didn’t realize how little he had… He was caught, of course, but couldn’t face going to prison, so he…he killed himself.”
She started to cry, not just the few sniffles when she talked about missing Agatha, but streams of regret for a lost love, pain, sadness, and maybe even a little anger at the man who had not lived up to his potential, who had left her in the biggest way possible.
“I’m sorry, Miss Roberts,” Harve said.
The old woman wiped her eyes. “It was a long time ago,” she said. “It’s all water under the bridge now. At least Aggie had her happy marriage.”
“Except for her brief fling with Drew Barnes, Sr.”
Carol looked up, surprised. “You know about that?” She shook her head and flung her arm out in a dismissive gesture. “I guess everyone knows about that. This is, after all, a very small town. Well, we all have our moments, and that was Aggie’s. But it was a very short-lived affair. Shelly understood, and forgave her, and became a better husband after that.”
“He knew about it?”
“I think she confessed it. She was tired of playing second fiddle to his career. After that, every Friday night was date night, for the rest of his life.”
“Agatha was very lucky.”
“Well, he had a lot more to lose than she did.”
“Say what?”
The doorbell rang and Carol excused herself to take her car keys out to Vince. Harve took the opportunity to take another cookie from the plate. Eve made really good cookies. Eve made really good everything. When Carol returned, she told Harve that Vince had towed Fran Nielsen’s car in from the highway, that he thought the problem was the fuel pump and he would need to order a part from Portland. He asked the sheriff to please tell Fran she could keep the loaner he’d given her overnight.
The sheriff nodded, and Carol began the story of how Sheldon Lafferty happened to become Misty Valley, Oregon’s doctor.
It seems Agatha had always loved Misty Valley, and wanted to spend her whole life living there. She planned to graduate from college with a degree in Library Science and come home to run the town’s library, which at that time, did not even exist. When she met and fell in love with Sheldon Lafferty, she wanted him, too. She didn’t think she should have to choose between Misty Valley and the man she loved. She wanted both. Which meant she would need to convince Sheldon that he should practice in Misty Valley.
Sheldon was a brilliant medical student. He got top grades in all his classes. Everyone expected that, upon completing his studies, he would go into practice in some high-paying area, maybe Los Angeles, where his father was a noted surgeon. The family thought that Sheldon should join his father’s practice. In fact, he did do his internship in Los Angeles, and that is where Brandon was born. But Agatha hated Los Angeles, hated all of California, and she was used to always getting what she wanted. She managed to convince Sheldon to do his residency at the hospital in Pleasant View, which was in dire need of another doctor. In the meantime, she asked her father to build her a library and Sheldon a clinic.
“And Mike Fair could never say no to his darling daughter,” Carol said.
“Wait a minute,” the sheriff said. “Agatha Lafferty’s father was Mike Fair? The Portland auto dealer Mike Fair?”
“Yes, of course. You didn’t know that?”
“I had no idea. The county buys all its official vehicles from Mike Fair.”
“I buy my cars from them, too. Aggie always gave me a good deal.”
“Okay, okay, let me get this all straightened out. Mike Fair was from Misty Valley?”
“Yes. His grandfather founded the town, you know. I think the Fairs owned most of the whole county. May still do. Mike was mayor here for two terms, way back when, about 50 years or so ago, I think it was.”
Harve frowned. This was all news to him. Agatha Lafferty, it seemed, came from a very well-to-do family. That, undoubtedly, was why she had been able to pay for Ruby’s hospital bills, Ruby’s bartending school tuition, and Abby’s rehab. Could money possibly have had any bearing on her murder? And why was Carol blackmailing her friend, anyway? Was Copper wrong in thinking she was?
“I’m assuming Mike Fair is no longer around,” he said.
“Oh, no, he died years ago,” Carol said. “His wife had cancer and they moved into Portland to be near the big hospital there. After she died, he came back here for a time and lived with the Laffertys—Brandon would have been just a little boy then—but decided he was better off in Portland, where he could oversee his car dealerships. Not that they really needed overseeing. They all seemed to run very well. Their slogan, ‘Get a Fair Deal from Mike Fair Auto,’ was really true, you know. Anyway, Mike died of a heart attack a couple of years later.”
“So who owns the dealerships now?” Harve asked.
“Why, I guess Brandon does now that Aggie’s dead.”
“Agatha Lafferty owned the Mike Fair dealerships?”
“Of course. Who else?”
Who else, indeed? Had Brandon, then, killed his mother in order to inherit her wealth? Did he need money for something? The Mike Fair dealerships had to be worth millions, lots of millions. And if the Fair family still owned a lot of property in Misty Valley, that amounted to even more millions. But Brandon had been up at The Pond fishing when his mother was murdered. Or had he? Of course he had, Connie Affleck would vouch for that. Was there someone else, someone they didn’t even know about, ho might have killed Agatha Lafferty because she was Mike Fair’s daughter and heir?
“Agatha did not have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. She was an only child of an only child of an only child.”
“So she was a very wealthy woman.”
“Oh, a millionaire many times over,” she said. “She did very well for herself, investing her money wisely, too. She had a very good financial advisor. Well, two of them, actually.”
“Two?”
“Yes. I did very well for myself, financially, too, you know. I didn’t make a whole lot of money as Shelly’s nurse, although he certainly paid me well. And I didn’t hire anyone to invest my money for me. I did it myself, and was so successful, others had me invest for them. Aggie thought it best she not drop her professional advisor, who was very good himself, but she gave me a thousand dollars every month to invest for her, and I think she got a higher return on that money, even after I took my cut, than she did from the rest of her investments, if I do say so myself. I’ve made quite a bundle on my knack for picking winners in the stock market, for myself and others, believe me. I’m pretty sure Lars Olsen makes more off the five hundred dollars a month I invest for him than he does from his law business.”
Harve was stunned. It’s amazing how little you know about people you think you knew well, people you’ve known your whole life. “Have you invested money for very many of Misty Valley’s citizens?” he asked.
“Quite a few. Vince gives me $50 or $100 every so often, Dinty Moore gives me some, Suds Grogan—oh, yes, there’s quite a few. I keep very detailed records of who invests what.”
S
he got up and went over to a desk that sat to one side of the room. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a ledger book, which she opened for the sheriff. “See, I list the name, how much they gave me, and the date, then where I invested it, and what the return was, and what my percentage is. It’s rather complicated, but I’ve always had a pretty good business mind. And very good luck at playing the market. Lars helps me keep everything legal. And I have a professional in the city prepare my taxes every year. I’d be willing to invest some for you, Sheriff, if you’re interested.”
“I’ll think on that, Miss Roberts,” Harve said. “I definitely will think on it.” So there went the possibility that Carol Roberts had killed her best friend because she was losing her thousand dollars a month of blackmail money.
“I’ll really miss all the little vacations Aggie and I took. Our Caribbean cruise last year was so fun. I don’t know what I’ll do about our planned upcoming trip. We were going to Australia in January. The reservations are already made. Maybe Louise could come with me. Then she could set one of her books in Australia. She and Brandon went to Italy with us a few years ago, you know, and she did use Italy as a setting for part of one of her books.”
“Her books?”
Carol quickly put her hand over her mouth. “Oops,” she said, then giggled a little. “I guess that’s not something that’s common knowledge. Forget I said that, Sheriff.”
“No, tell me.”
“I can’t. I don’t even think Aggie was supposed to tell me. Please forgive my indiscretion. Now, have another cookie.”
“I will,” Harve said. “And thank you for talking with me about Agatha. I appreciate it.”
“I hope I was able to be of some help,” she said.
“Miss Roberts, you have been more helpful than you will ever realize.”
TWENTY-TWO
THE BOOK NOOK HAD OPENED RIGHT AFTER THE sheriff left, and the store had been busy with several customers, so it was after ten-thirty before Copper could even think about calling Louise. As it was, the moment she reached in her pocket for her phone, it rang. It was Louise.
“Copper, I have the most amazing news to share with you! Can you come over?”
“Oh, I can’t right now, Louise. We’ve been really busy so far this morning, and I’ve been leaving Monica by herself too much lately. I kind of need to stay here right now. Can you come over here? There are some things the sheriff wants you to look for online.”
“Do you have Wi-Fi?” Louise asked.
“Yes, we do.” Copper turned to Monica. “Do you suppose our Wi-Fi will work upstairs?”
“I would think so,” Monica said.
“You can set up your laptop in my apartment,” Copper told Louise. “That will be a little more private than down here in the store, but close enough I can run down if Monica gets busy. What’s your news?”
“Oh, it’s much too exciting to share over the phone. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
And she was. The store was down to one or two customers, so Copper told Monica she’d be right upstairs if she was needed and ushered Louise up to her apartment.
“Okay, I’m listening,” Copper said.
“I’m not sure where to start,” Louise said. Her eyes were dancing and she could hardly keep still herself. “Oh, Copper, it’s just…well, let me start with last night.”
Copper invited her to sit at the kitchen table and got out some cups for coffee.
“Oh, no coffee for me this morning” Louise said. “I’m too hyper already. Maybe some juice or something.”
“Apple juice okay? It’s Lucy’s homemade.” Louise nodded and Copper poured juice for both of them.
“Last night,” Louise began, “Brandon and I were discussing when we could go over to Agatha’s apartment and go through her things. Neither of us has any idea of her business affairs or anything like that. Brandon closed out her checking account, but we didn’t know if she had any savings accounts, any investments or anything like that. I figured there must be something, as she had to go into town a few weeks ago to take care of some financial matters, but I didn’t know what or how extensive. We would need to look for any important papers, then clean out her clothes, etc., give them to charity or whatever. So we planned to do that this evening.
“Anyway, Brandon always picks up the mail from the Post Office before he comes home from the clinic every night. He did so last night, just like normal, and there were the usual bills and catalogs and assorted junk mail. Most of the junk mail went immediately in the trash, but one catalog I kept out because it was one I always like to look at, even if I rarely order anything from it. This morning, I decided to look at it over breakfast. I picked it up, and an envelope fell out. I am so glad I did not throw away that catalog. The envelope was addressed to Brandon and was from a law firm in the city. I handed it to Brandon, he looked at it curiously, as it wasn’t a law firm he was familiar with, and opened it. I was busy looking at the catalog, so didn’t notice the look of shock on his face until he started making gagging sounds. The moral of that story is, don’t eat toast while opening an envelope that might be important.”
“Louise! You’re being like your writer self right now—keeping me in suspense. What was in the envelope?”
Louise opened her purse, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Copper. “Read for yourself.”
Copper took a folded sheet of embossed letterhead from the envelope. The letter was from the law firm of Hiram, Marcus and Sanchez, in Portland and was addressed to Brandon at his Post Office Box in Misty Valley.
Dear Dr. Lafferty;
It has come to our attention that your mother, Mrs. Agatha Lafferty, is recently deceased. As her attorneys of record and executors of her estate, we would appreciate it if you would contact us at your earliest convenience, so we can take care of probating her will. Please note that, except for some minor bequests to a few charities and close friends, you are the primary beneficiary of your mother’s estate. We would also like to know what your feelings are towards the disposition of the auto dealerships. If you wish to keep them, the same provisions can be made as in the past. However, if you wish to sell, we are certain that adequate buyers can be readily found.
Please accept our condolences on this sad occasion. We have enjoyed our business dealings with Mrs. Lafferty in the past and hope we may continue to serve you in a like manner. We await your response.
Sincerely,
Anthony Hiram
Senior Partner
Copper looked up in confusion. “I don’t understand. What auto dealerships is he talking about?”
“Neither of us understood, either, until Brandon called and talked to Mr. Hiram. It seems Agatha’s father was Mike Fair, and, after his death, she became the owner of all of the Mike Fair car dealerships in Portland. I think there are, like, five of them.”
“And Brandon didn’t know this?”
Louise shook her head. “His grandparents died when he was quite young. He said he had some vague memory of his mother yelling at this portly old man, telling him he could not smoke his cigars in the house, but that’s about his only memory. Agatha never talked about her family.”
“Louise, this means Agatha was a very wealthy woman.”
“I think ‘very’ is putting it mildly. It also means that Brandon and I are now quite rich ourselves.”
“Louise, even though he’s just a country doctor, I suspect Brandon does very well. I’d say most people in Misty Valley would consider you rich, already.”
“It’s all relative, I guess. Maybe we were ‘comfortable’ before, but now we’re absolutely filthy rich. And Brandon’s taking me on a trip to Europe to celebrate.”
That’s great, Louise! If it weren’t still morning I’d say this news called for something a little stronger than apple juice.”
“Copper, do you think Agatha’s murder might have had something to do with her money?”
“I doubt it, Louise. If Brandon didn’t know his mother was a rich woman,
probably no one else did, either. And if someone did know, and wanted to get hold of her money, or the dealerships, how would killing her help them? They’d need to kill Brandon, too—and you.”
“You’re right. And no one’s tried to kill us yet. And Brandon has heirs now, so they’d have to kill Cindy and Ron, too. Oh, everything is getting so complicated. Why does anyone murder another person, anyway? It makes no sense.”
“So Brandon considers Cindy and Ron as his heirs?” Copper asked.
“Of course. They are his children.” Louise drained her juice and opened up the laptop. “Okay, what is it the sheriff wants me to find online?”
“Hospital records for Abby Taylor that might confirm a serious internal injury or something in the past that would cause her continual pain.”
“Okay, let’s check it out.”
* * *
Fran Nielsen’s day had not started out very well. After Sheriff Blodgett had called her with the information on Abby Taylor’s rehab facility, the Greenwood Clinic, she had called there and arranged an appointment with one of the directors, Dr. Lenore Greenwood. Dr. Greenwood was distressed to learn of Abby’s death, and agreed to answer whatever questions the deputy had, to the best of her ability, as long as it didn’t violate any confiden-tiality laws. Fran had started out from Pleasant View about a quarter to ten that morning and had made good time up through Misty Valley. But her car started acting up about twenty miles or so past Misty Valley, and finally, just stopped. She’d had to call Vince Kinney to come tow her back to town. Fortunately, Vince had a car he was able to loan her while he tried to figure out why Fran’s police car, which had been serviced just two weeks previously by Vince himself, had decided it didn’t want to go to Portland. She’d also had to call Dr. Greenwood and reschedule. The doctor had to make some adjustments to her schedule, but finally agreed to meet Fran at two o’clock that afternoon.