A Hole In One

by Judy Penz Sheluk

  “Marc went to the game, on my recommendation. He won the first two nights, but that’s how these guys hooked you in. Then, when you were sure they were legit and you could trust them, they brought down the hammer. Remember that line in The Sting, where Paul Newman, as Henry Gondorff, is playing poker on the train with Doyle Lonnegan? The audience knows that Lonnegan is cheating, and Gondorff is out of luck. And then he comes up with four jacks and says—”

  “You owe me fifteen grand, pal.” Arabella said, mimicking Paul Newman’s half-smile. “The Sting is one of my all-time favorite old movies.”

  Walker winced at bit at the “old movie,” then grinned. “Remember what Lonnegan says next?”

  Arabella didn’t miss a beat. “‘What was I supposed to do? Accuse him of cheating better than me?’”

  Walker’s grin faded. “Playing with those guys in Agincourt was a bit like that, except that this was real life. Unfortunately for him, Marc accused them of cheating and made it clear he would spread the word to anyone who would listen. Let’s just say the boys didn’t take kindly to that. They made sure that Marc made good on his losses—after a little persuasion.”

  “They beat him up?” Emily and Arabella, together.

  “That would have been the easy way out, at least for Marc,” Walker said. “No, they threatened to hurt Rita and Levon if Marc didn’t leave town. Leave town and never come back.”

  “And so that’s what he did,” Emily said.

  Arabella’s mind drifted to the day she’d caught Levon arguing with his father in the park. He’d admitted later that the argument had been over his mother’s suicide, but never once did he speculate on the reason why. Now she realized they had been arguing over his mother.

  Damn Levon. How much did he know? And why wasn’t he saying anything?

  34

  Arabella was still processing everything Walker had told them, and what Levon might possibly know and not be telling her, when Emily went into full reporter mode.

  “Great background on Marc Larroquette, Walker, but you didn’t tell us when the two of you spoke, and how you ended up recruiting him into FYSST.”

  Walker grinned. “I wondered if one of you would ask about that. Marc recognized me at the lookout. Instead of being angry with me, he thanked me for saving his life.”

  “He thanked you? I wasn’t expecting that,” Arabella said.

  “Nor was I. We agreed to meet for lunch at a restaurant in Sault Ste. Marie the following day. I’ll admit I was nervous. What if he actually harbored a grudge all these years and had some plan to get even? I needn’t have worried. He told me that leaving Levon and Rita had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Because of that, he swore off gambling and hadn’t played so much as a friendly game of euchre since. He’d even stopped watching all sports because he worried he’d give into the urge to bet on the game.”

  “And he moved to Goulais River,” Emily said.

  “He figured it was far enough away that no one would find him, and he was right. After a couple of years, he met Alice Brampton, a single mom with a daughter named Chloe. They married, although Chloe never really accepted him in the role of stepfather. Marc admitted he was far from being a perfect husband and father. To say his relationship with Chloe was strained would be an understatement.”

  That tallies with what Kevin told me, Emily thought.

  “Did he know about Rita’s suicide? About Levon’s time at the young offender boot camp?”

  “He did, but according to him, it was several years after the fact. I’m not sure exactly when or how he found out—he was very vague about that—but he told me that it haunted him.”

  “Not so haunted that he did anything to make it right,” Arabella said.

  “How do you make someone’s suicide right? How do you make walking out on your wife and kid right, even if you had the best of reasons?” Walker asked. “Regardless, I don’t think he tried overly hard to reconnect with Levon. In many ways, Marc was a coward. The bravest thing he’d ever done was leaving Rita and Levon. Facing that past terrified him. That’s when I told him about FYSST. He listened. By the end of lunch, he asked if he could start a Northern Ontario chapter.”

  “So you believe his interest in FYSST was sincere?” Emily asked.

  “I believe he wanted to make amends with Chloe and Levon, and I suspected there may have been others on his list. Heading a Northern Ontario chapter of FYSST would give him the excuse he needed to approach them. I tried to warn Marc to be careful. My own experience had taught me that not everybody embraces the concept of forgiveness. Some things truly are best left buried in the past.”

  Emily and Arabella left a short while later, their good-byes filled with heartfelt thanks to Heidi for her generosity and a promise to visit again soon.

  Arabella asked Emily to drive so she could think. She was disappointed that Walker didn’t have much to add in the way of current developments. All he knew was what Marc had told him, that he was going to try to make amends with those he’d wronged in the past as his first step in the FYSST program. Chloe and Levon were a given. As to who the “others” might have been, either Walker didn’t know or wasn’t saying.

  Could the others be the poker players that sent Marc packing all those years ago? Walker didn’t think so, and Arabella was inclined to agree with him. Marc had repaid the debt and left town. Those had been the terms, and they had been fulfilled. Arabella bit her lip and tried not to cry. No matter which way you looked at it, Levon remained the prime suspect in his father’s murder.

  Walker had not yet gone to Detective Merryfield with the story, saying he hadn’t done so because he still harbored remorse for his role in Marc leaving Rita and Levon. He wouldn’t intentionally cause Levon any more difficulty, at least not as long as he believed in his innocence. But if he believed that Levon was guilty, even for a moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to come forward. Walker had also made that much very clear.

  The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Levon knew about Marc’s real reason for leaving him and his mom. Maybe he hadn’t at the time, though perhaps even that was suspect, but he knew before Marc died.

  It would be better for Levon to see Merryfield and tell him the rest of the story before someone else did. Just how she was going to convince her stubborn ex-husband of that was another matter. Maybe if Emily could dig into the past—beat Kerri to the punch to find out the facts—Arabella could confront Levon and show him how it was bound to come out eventually. “Get in front of the story,” that’s what PR firms always tell people to do, isn’t it? Arabella’s thoughts raced faster than a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Emily said. “You’re worried that Kerri Say-no-more will get wind of what Walker told us, and if she reports it before Levon tells the police, he’s likely to be charged with murder.”

  “That’s the gist of it.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he will. He’s not the type to go running to a reporter. If he talks to anyone, it will be Merryfield.”

  “I’m not worried about Levon talking to Kerri. Regardless of what you think about her, Kerri is a good investigative reporter. She’ll look for the same leads that we have. What if Kerri digs into the past and finds out on her own?”

  “If Levon didn’t know the real reason his father left, how is Kerri going to find out?”

  “I think Levon probably knew.”

  “You could be right,” Emily admitted, “but would she follow that trail? Walker didn’t remember the names of the poker players.”

  “Didn’t remember or wasn’t telling us?”

  Emily shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter either way. If he remembered their names and chose not to share them with us, then I don’t see him telling Kerri.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “There’s no probably about it. Now chill out and start acting like someone who just scored a great deal for the Glass Dolphin. The last
thing we need is Caitie thinking there was any reason for our trip other than an antiques shopping expedition.” Emily tapped her fingers on the car seat. “If Kerri even gets a whiff that you’re playing private investigator, she’ll be on it. Her newspaper articles might be factual, but that won’t stop her from blogging.”

  “We’re playing private investigator,” Arabella said, with a smile. “It’s not just me, you’re in this too.”

  “Don’t remind me. The last time you got me mixed up in a murder, I almost wound up dead.”

  35

  Caitie’s disappointment was evident when Arabella and Emily arrived at the Glass Dolphin. “The shop has been dead quiet, not a single customer,” she reported.

  “No real surprise. We’ve always been closed on Mondays,” Emily said. “I haven’t even updated the website yet. I’ll do that tomorrow and get the word out on Facebook and Twitter.”

  “You should set up a Pinterest account, too,” Caitie said. “I’ve sold some jewelry by putting photos on Pinterest with a link to my website.”

  “Pinterest is a great idea. Why I didn’t think of it?”

  “You would have. Anyway, there were no customers, but there was one visitor. Constable Beecham came by to see Arabella. I told him you were on a buying trip with Emily.”

  Why would Aaron want to see me? Arabella suspected it wasn’t a social call.

  “Maybe he wants to get back together with you,” Emily teased, but Arabella knew she was only doing it for Caitie’s benefit. They both knew the odds of them dating again were negligible.

  “Did he say anything about the reason for stopping by?” Arabella asked.

  Caitie shrugged. “No, but it’s probably about the guy they found dead by the golf course this morning, the insurance guy?”

  “Trent Norland?” Emily and Arabella asked at the same time.

  “Yeah, you should read Outside the Landing.” Caitie looked sheepish. “There weren’t any customers and that blog is my guilty pleasure.”

  “We’ll unpack the car first and I’ll give him a call.”

  Arabella needed a few minutes to think. Trent was dead. What would Aaron want to ask her? “I take it the trip was worthwhile?” Caitie asked as they lugged boxes in to the shop.

  “It was incredible,” Emily said. “The woman who owns the place, Heidi, was more than fair in her pricing, and we ended up with more than we thought we’d be able to afford. You have to see what we bought.”

  They unpacked the boxes, answering Caitie’s questions as they found space for their finds in the already crammed room in the back that they used to store inventory that was not yet priced.

  Caitie left to teach her Pilates class and Arabella was dialing Aaron Beecham when the doorbell chimed. Arabella checked her watch and thought, a customer at five o’clock on a Monday?

  “Yoo-hoo! Anyone in?” Kerri St. Amour’s voice rang out. “Oh, there you are, hiding out back.” She strutted toward them in a bubblegum pink sweater that barely skimmed her upper thigh, skintight black jeggings, and five-inch burgundy stilettos. The fact that she rocked that ridiculous look only aggravated Arabella. She could only imagine how Emily felt.

  “We weren’t hiding,” Arabella said, trying not to sound churlish. “We were working. We just came back from an antiques shopping trip and were sorting through our finds.”

  “Not that it’s any of your concern,” Emily said.

  “What can we do for you?” Arabella asked, hoping to avoid an incident while resisting the urge to drive Kerri right into next week.

  “Seriously, do you treat all your customers this way? No wonder business is bad.”

  Arabella bit back a retort and shot Emily a warning glance. They could not let Kerri get the better of them. “Where are you getting your information? Business is quite robust.”

  They all looked at each other for a moment. Finally Kerri said, “I’m here because I wanted to get your reaction for Inside the Landing.”

  “Our reaction to what?” Arabella asked, playing dumb.

  “Why, to Trent Norland’s death, of course. You know, the hole in one insurance guy, the one who was covering the jet ski promotion for the Glass Dolphin.”

  “We are aware of who Trent Norland is,” Arabella said. “What about him?”

  “A dog walker found Trent’s body early this morning on the Miakoda Trail, which runs directly behind the golf course. He died of a gunshot wound to the chest, just like Marc Larroquette. Of course it’s too early to know if it’s the same gun, but the similarities are obvious.”

  “Where on the trail?” Emily asked. “By the third hole.”

  The hole where Marc had been shot, Arabella thought. Why had Trent gone back there? What or who was he expecting to find?

  “Do the police have any leads?”

  Kerri smirked, clearly savoring the moment. “As a matter of fact, they do. They dredged the pond on the third hole of the golf course. Amongst the lost balls was a gun. The police believe it’s the murder weapon.”

  Arabella braced herself for what had to be coming. She knew, of course, that Levon owned a gun. But it wasn’t the type of gun you shot someone with. It was an antique gun, an 1883 Enfield revolver. She remembered the way they’d argued about it when he bought it. Arabella hated guns. Levon had told her she was being ridiculous, that it was a collector’s item.

  “Do they know who the gun belongs to?” Emily asked.

  “Those details are being withheld for the moment. However, I know that it’s an antique gun. ‘An Enfield revolver,’ Detective Merryfield said.”

  “Had the gun been fired?” Emily asked and Kerri hesitated for a split-second.

  “I…that information is being withheld, too. But naturally when I heard ‘antique’ and ‘gun,’ I thought of Levon, especially since you don’t need a license in Ontario to buy, sell, or own antique firearms. It’s the sort of thing an antiques picker would know and own, isn’t it?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Arabella said.

  “I’d love to, but it seems he’s up and disappeared. He’s not answering his cell, either. You two wouldn’t know where he is?”

  “We do not.” And we wouldn’t tell you if we did, Arabella thought, but her heart was pounding and there was a knot inside her stomach with an anchor attached to it.

  Where the hell had Levon gone? And how did his gun end up in the pond?

  36

  Arabella called Levon’s cell phone the minute Kerri left—not a moment too soon. She listened while it went to voice mail, then left a message for him to call her and started pacing. Where could he be? Perhaps Gilly Germaine had heard from him. But what would she say to Gilly?

  “Hey there, I’m looking for my ex-husband and wondered if you knew where he was?” Ridiculous.

  Arabella also knew she should call Aaron Beecham, but she didn’t feel up to a thorough grilling.

  She was still mulling over possibilities when Emily spoke up.

  “I should have called Trent when you asked, not made up a bunch of excuses. I had my head so wrapped up in Luke Surmanski that I’d all but forgotten about Levon.”

  “It’s not your fault. Like you said, Trent’s insurance office wouldn’t have been open on the weekend, and today we were off antiquing in Thornbury. The question is, why was he on the trail behind the third hole of the golf course? Blaming ourselves, or each other, there’s no percentage in that.”

  “What about the gun? Do you think it might be Levon’s?”

  “I wish I didn’t, but it sounds exactly like the gun he bought a few years ago when we were still married.” She told Emily about their argument, and how he’d told her it was a collector’s item, and not a weapon.

  Emily was already tapping away at her keyboard. “He was right, not that there was ever any doubt. According to Wikipedia, the Enfield Mark I and II revolvers were used in the British Military from 1880 through 1887, and issued as side arms for the North-West Mounted Police in Canada from 1883 until 1911.”
She looked up. “Maybe Levon sold it. He is in the business to make money, after all.”

  Arabella brightened at the thought. It was possible. “Are you going to call Aaron?”

  “Not right now. I’ll wait until I get home.” Whenever that might be. She needed to find Levon first. To find out if he’d sold the gun, and if not, how it had landed in the pond.

  Emily walked over to an oak roll-top desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “We could make a list of possibilities. For the murder. Not for the gun.”

  “I suppose it’s worth a shot. Oh god, did I say that out loud?”

  “Let’s just start.”

  Continuing to think aloud, Arabella blurted out, “Okay, I’ll start. What if Trent was the one who shot Marc and went back to make sure he hadn’t left any evidence behind?”

  “And in so doing, shot himself? Seems unlikely.”

  “You’re right. Don’t write that one down.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Emily said with a smile. “Any other ideas?”

  “What if Trent thought he saw something or someone, and went back to see if he could find anything to support that?”

  “You’d have to think the police checked the area pretty thoroughly.” Arabella sighed. “What do you think happened?”

  “I think Trent Norland must have seen someone or something while he was waiting for the first team of golfers. What if he arranged to meet with the person at the scene of the crime?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Blackmail? There can’t be a lot of money in selling hole in one insurance in Ontario. We have a maximum of six months of golf, and you have to figure most tournaments run from May through September. Five months to earn a living.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s surmise that Trent needed money badly enough that he was willing to blackmail someone for it.”

  “Hudson had the impression that Trent wanted to tell him something, but didn’t,” Emily said. “True, but I can’t see him trying to blackmail Hudson.”