Marc exhaled. “Well, I suppose, seeing as you’re in a pinch.”
Ann Marie looked over at her mother, “See Mom, I told you Dad would help. You just have to know how to ask.”
“So, my only daughter thinks she knows me better than her mom,” Marc said.
Shirley gave Marc a smile as she continued to work. “I remember that you didn’t like being cooped up in a van full of flowers.”
“Smells like a funeral parlor on wheels,” Marc said with a grin.
As Ann Marie finished the arrangement she had been working on, she looked up at her dad. “I was going to take this load over and get them set up. Why don’t you drive? I could use your help while Mom finishes the rest of the orders. Besides, I haven’t seen you much lately and it will give us a chance to catch up.”
Marc glanced at Shirley. “I smell a conspiracy. Your mom knows I can’t resist my daughter’s plea for help.”
Ann Marie and her mother exchanged a look. They both giggled.
“Thanks Dad, let’s get these loaded.”
It was just over a five-minute drive to the funeral home.
“Dad, I never told you how much I appreciate you stepping in with that Dave Fish thing.”
It had been a few months, but Ann Marie’s statement brought a flash-back of the bruises on Shirley’s arm, and Fish’s bloodied face as it slid down the side of his house trailer following Marc’s brief visit. “Your mom ever say anything about that?”
“Not in so many words. And, as far as I know, she hasn’t heard from him since.”
“Guess that was the idea,” Marc said as he stared at the road ahead.
A minute of silence passed between them.
“So, Dad, probably none of my business, but weren’t you seeing someone up in Saranac Lake a while back? Sophie something or other?”
“Maybe. Why? Is this a Dear Abby moment between father and daughter?”
“I’m just curious. I mean, you are my father and we don’t see each other much and I guess I’d like to get to know you better. Who your friends are, stuff like that.”
“Sophie’s been a good friend. She’s had some hard times. We stay in touch, but, we’re just that. Good friends.”
“And how about this other woman, Sylvie something? The Quebec police detective.”
“Ditto. Both good friends. So, how did you hear about them?”
“From Mom,” Ann Marie said as Marc turned the van into the back entrance to the funeral home.
It took the two of them ten minutes to carry the flower arrangements into the viewing parlor. A man’s body occupied a mahogany coffin set up between two pedestals holding large white candles. Someone had stuffed the poor guy into a new blue suit complete with a white shirt and red tie. Marc and Ann Marie positioned the baskets of flowers off to either side of the casket.
“Dad, can you give me a hand setting up the casket spray? It’s kind of large. I’ll take one end and you take the other. I have a hard time reaching over the kneeler.”
Marc carefully lifted one end of the spray of flowers and, with Ann Marie’s help, centered it on the bottom half of the casket. He hadn’t paid much attention to the body before, but as he completed his task, he glanced down at the man’s face. Even with his hair parted on the wrong side and a bit too much rouge on his cheeks to make the body look more alive, there was no mistaking the face of his old friend from the local Police Department. He’d known Sergeant Dave Rabideau from his days as a state trooper. Marc stepped back and stared.
“Something wrong, Dad?”
Marc remained silent.
“Dad?”
“Nothing. It’s just, I hadn’t heard that Dave had passed.”
“You knew him?”
“Yeah. More of a professional relationship. I remember whenever anyone said to him, ‘Hey Dave, good to see you,’ he’d always come back with, ‘better to be seen than viewed.’”
“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right. You couldn’t have.”
Marc took an extra moment to make sure the casket flowers were situated properly. He then patted the back of the man’s cold hand. Someone had coiled a rosary around his fingers. “See you around, old friend.”
They left the funeral home and headed back to the flower shop. When he turned the van into the shop’s driveway Ann Marie asked, “Have you given any more thought about coming with us to the golf tournament in Georgia next month?”
“Guess I’m sort of torn. I don’t want to interfere with, you know, you and your boyfriend’s trip, but the thought of seeing some of the world’s best golfers sure is tempting. And of course, the weather in Georgia is so nice in the spring. It’s just that, I don’t know.”
Marc drove the van around the back of the store and cut the engine.
“You having second thoughts?” she asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want to go. It’s just I don’t know anything about your friend. Other than Jake, I don’t even know his full name.”
“It’s McKay, Jake McKay. He’s about your height, twenty years old, has blond hair―”
“I don’t need to know what he looks like. Where’s he from? How’d you meet him? Stuff like that.”
Ann Marie hesitated. “Well, if you must know, we met in a downtown bar, Brewsters, about four months ago. He’s Canadian, lived in Toronto, here on a student visa. He used to play hockey in the winter and golf in the summer, but since he’s won a couple of amateur golf tournaments, he’s committed to golf full time. He’s left-handed, his favorite color is red and―”
“Enough, I was just―”
It was Ann Marie’s turn to interrupt. “He loves pizza, graduates with a bachelor’s in business next week, just before the golf tournament that I had assumed we were all going to in Georgia.”
“Ann Marie, I don’t intend to pry into your personal affairs. You’re 18, going on 30. It’s a father’s job to be curious about someone his daughter’s apparently been living with.”
“I’m not living with him, well, not all the time.”
Marc hesitated as he digested this latest bit of news. “Does he plan on returning to Canada after college?”
“Dad, really?”
Marc looked at her, waiting for the answer.
“If you must know, he wants to stay on at Plattsburgh State and get his Master’s in Business and Marketing. But that might change, depending on how he does at this tournament in Georgia.”
Marc was aware that the local state college depended on Canadian students to fill their enrollment.
“He can’t live at the college after graduating. Does Jake have an apartment?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Where does he get his money?”
“From his mom, I guess. Same place he got the plane tickets to attend the tournament in Georgia. What difference does that make?” Ann Marie lifted the door handle. “Forget I asked you to come along. Obviously, you’re more interested in who I’m seeing than going to the tournament.”
Marc touched her arm, “I’m sorry. You have to understand, you’re all that your mom and I have, especially now that we’re divorced.”
“I’m all you have? What about Sophie, your friend in Saranac Lake?”
Marc let out a slow exhale. “Like I said, she’s a friend. Besides, I haven’t seen much of her lately.”
It was her turn to exhale. “Come on, Dad. There’s still a few more flower arrangements that need to be brought to the funeral home before your friend’s viewing.”
Chapter Three
The following Monday, news of Cecil Robare’s arson arrest and attempted insurance fraud made the bottom fold of the Plattsburgh Standard Newspaper. Naturally, there was no mention of Marc’s involvement in the investigation and, for his part, it was just as well. He didn’t need Robare’s family pleading for him to change the story he’d given to the police. Robare had made his own bed, now he could sleep in it, along with the rest of the inmate population at the Clinton
County Jail while he awaited trial.
Before heading to his office, Marc stopped back at Shirley’s Flower Shop. A GMC Yukon with Ontario license plates was parked by the curb. As he entered, he saw Ann Marie talking to a woman at the counter.
“Hey Dad, you’re just in time. I’d like you to meet Jake’s mom. Mrs. McKay, this is my dad.”
From the back, Marc could see the woman was almost as tall as he, with flowing brown hair that curled onto her shoulders.
She turned toward Marc and extended a hand. Mrs. McKay could have easily stepped off the cover of Vogue Magazine.
“Laura McKay. Pleased to meet you,” she said.
Her grip was soft, but firm at the same time.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” Marc responded.
“Ann Marie told me that you’ll be joining us on our little trip to Augusta next month,” she said.
Marc detected the Canadian accent in her voice but, besides her appearance, what struck him the most was that she was also going to Augusta. After a short delay, Mrs. McKay retrieved her hand.
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Marc managed.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you, Mr. LaRose?” Laura McKay asked.
“Uh, sorry. No, of course not. I just hadn’t been told there’d be four of us.”
Laura McKay glanced at Ann Marie. “It’s probably my fault. You see, Jake did so well at the Canadian Amateur’s last year, I was able to get four tickets to attend the tournament in Augusta. It’s one that I’ve been interested in seeing, so I thought I’d tag along. I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“No, no problem,” Marc sputtered. He noticed Shirley was peering at him through a veil of flower stems from behind a birthday bouquet she was working on.
“So, it’s settled. That just leaves the matter of getting there. I’d considered driving, but, if it’s all the same with you, I’d prefer to fly. Driving would take at least two days, however, we could fly there in a few hours. We’ll rent a car at the airport.”
“I don’t know. Augusta’s not like Toronto. It’s a small town with small airports. Then there’s the issue of lodging. I understand that motels fill up well in advance,” Marc said.
“I’ve already seen to that. We’ll take my SUV to Burlington, Vermont where I’ve secured four roundtrip tickets to Columbia, South Carolina. I’ve also reserved a rental vehicle and taken the liberty of booking two rooms at a hotel in a small town not far from Augusta. Ever heard of Aiken, South Carolina? I understand it’s a quaint little horse town about a half hour’s drive from Augusta. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Marc was getting the impression that Mrs. McKay was used to getting her way. “Uh yeah, that sounds alright, I guess,” he said, avoiding Shirley’s glances.
“I’m just in town for a couple of days, but I’ll be back in time for Jake’s graduation next week. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave for Burlington right after the ceremony.”
Marc wasn’t sure how to respond. “I guess, uh…”
Ann Marie interjected, “That sounds great. You’re okay with that, Dad, right?”
“Uh, sure, why not?”
“Well, now that that’s settled, I’ll be on my way. Toronto’s a seven-hour trip. It’s been a pleasure meeting you all. Jake’s told me all about Ann Marie, but she forgot to tell me she had such wonderful parents.”
“So, we’ll see you at the graduation next week, Mrs. McKay,” Marc said.
“Please, it’s Laura,” she said with a light smile, then turned toward the door.
The tinkling of the bell above the door accompanied Mrs. McKay’s exit from the flower shop.
“That was interesting,” Marc said.
“Sorry, Dad. Guess I should have warned you. Jake said his mom was a control freak.”
“Oh, I’m sure Daddy doesn’t mind being controlled by someone as pretty as Mrs. McKay. Too bad she’s married,” Shirley said through the flower arrangement, her tone flush with envy.
“Actually, she’s not, at least not any more. According to Jake, they divorced a couple years ago,” Ann Marie said.
“Can’t imagine why,” Shirley mumbled.
Marc got the feeling that the planned trip to Aiken wasn’t the only thing about to head south. “Well, I thought I’d stop in to see if there’s anything I can do but, it looks like you two have it under control.” He turned toward the front door. About to open it, he hesitated. “Ann Marie, did you make arrangements for a replacement while we’re gone? Mom’s going to need someone to help make the deliveries while we’re away.”
“Taken care of Dad,” she replied.
Marc dropped his hand from the door handle. “Is there any possibility I could meet Jake sometime before we fly to Georgia?”
Ann Marie seemed to think about her dad’s request. “I don’t see why not. He’s completed his finals. Let me ask him and I’ll get back to you. Maybe the four of us could go out to lunch or something.”
“Lunch would be nice,” Shirley said, placing the finished arrangement in the display cooler.
“Whatever. Let me know what you decide.” Marc said as he left the shop.
Three days passed and Marc again found himself in Shirley’s flower shop. He and Ann Marie had decided to meet at Antoine’s Restaurant around noon. Shirley had closed the shop for the day and was ready when Marc arrived. She was wearing a blue and white flowered dress with black pumps and a matching purse.
When she climbed into Marc’s Ford Explorer, he caught the gentle scent of her perfume. “You look nice today,” he said.
“Thanks for noticing.” She smiled.
“Have you ever met Jake?” Marc asked, backing the SUV out of the driveway.
“All I know is what Ann Marie told me. I have to say, she seems kind of hooked on him.”
Other than the weather and talk of the pock-marked city streets, the short trip uptown passed with little conversation. When they arrived at the restaurant, Marc spotted his daughter in the parking lot waving at him. She was standing between a silver sports car and a young man about a foot taller than she. Marc found an open parking spot two spaces away.
“Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Marc said as he and Shirley exited the Explorer.
“No, we just arrived,” Ann Marie said.
Turning his attention to the boy standing next to Ann Marie, Marc said, “You must be Jake.” Marc extended his hand, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. LaRose.”
Jake was about as tall as Marc, but his voice seemed deeper. He was clean-shaven and his medium length hair was the same color as his mother’s.
“Jake, this is my mom,” Ann Marie said, motioning toward Shirley as she came around the car.
“Pleasure, Ms. LaRose.”
The four of them stood silent for a moment as if waiting for someone else to say something. “Anyone hungry?” Marc finally asked.
“Yeah, I’m famished,” Ann Marie said.
“You’re always hungry,” Shirley said with a short titter.
During lunch, Marc learned that Jake’s mom, Laura, owned and operated a consulting business she had acquired after the divorce from Jake’s dad two years earlier. Jake’s dad owned a brokerage franchise business that he and his mom had started years before their marriage ended.
“Brokerage franchise firm?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, it’s kind of boring stuff, buying and selling franchises. But both Mom and Dad like it and they seem to have done well, I guess. My college major is business, but my passion is golf.”
“Jake is thinking about combining the two…you know like, owning a golf course, probably in the south somewhere while playing as a tour pro,” Ann Marie said.
“My dream is to one day make it on the pro golf tour. However, tournament is stiff, so I figured I might need a back-up plan,” Jake said.
“Years ago, my dream was to have a string of flower shops, but I still have only the one,” Shirley said, “which I sup
pose, was my back-up plan.”
The waitress reappeared and, as she started clearing the plates, asked if anyone was interested in ordering dessert.
“Yes, I believe we would,” Marc replied, speaking for everyone.
After ordering, Jake asked, “Mr. LaRose, Ann Marie tells me you’re a private detective.”
“Yeah. That was my back-up plan after I retired from the state police.”
“Sounds kinda interesting.”
“It has its moments,” Marc grinned.
“Just last fall Dad saved the Village of Lake Placid from a dirty bomb attack by a bunch of terrorists,” Ann Marie announced proudly.
Jake looked genuinely astonished. “Really? Ann Marie, you hadn’t told me your dad was a local hero!”
Marc flushed. “Well, I’m hardly a hero. Besides, I had a lot of help.”
The waitress arrived with their desserts.
Saved by the soufflé, Marc thought as he scooped up a forkful of pie a la mode.
Chapter Four
The following week passed in a blur. Marc had accepted a worker’s compensation surveillance assignment in the Village of Champlain, twenty miles north of Plattsburgh. Within three days, he’d collected evidence showing the target of the investigation was working off the books at a local all-terrain vehicle garage while collecting workers’ compensation benefits from his former job as an orderly at a nursing home in Plattsburgh. Apparently changing over-sized ATV tires was better suited to his job skills than changing adult diapers and dirty bed sheets.
As the day of Jake’s graduation approached, Marc prepared for the anticipated trip to Aiken, South Carolina.
An online search showed him that, as Laura McKay had indicated, Aiken is a mid-sized southern town, home to a sizable equestrian community with a history of raising prize thoroughbred horses. Its latest, a three-year old named Palace Malice, had captured the Belmont Stakes a few years before.
Marc’s search also revealed that Aiken had played an important part in America’s cold war with the establishment of the Savannah River Site, known back in the early 1950s as the “Bomb Plant.” SRS, or the Site, as it was known locally, was situated a few miles southeast of the city and produced components for the country’s nuclear arsenal. Over the years, many of the engineers and other professionals who retired from SRS remained in Aiken, resulting in the development of several retirement communities.
Masters of Terror: A Marc LaRose Mystery Page 2