The Case of the Unfettered Utonagan

by B R Snow

“So, what you’re telling me is that, once again, Jeremy has left a mess behind other people are going to have to clean up?”

  “Well, I can’t speak to Jeremy’s history, but this one is definitely a mess,” I said.

  “How long will you need?” Charlotte said.

  “We really don’t know,” I said. “But let’s start with a month and go from there. It’ll take at least that long for the lawyers to sort out the will.”

  “Okay, I can do that,” Charlotte said, getting to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes. I need to use the facilities then call my lawyer.”

  We watched her stagger slightly as she headed down the hall toward the bathroom. Charles Howard shook his head at her then focused on me.

  “Well played.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Actually, it was a group effort.”

  “Was the part about the reporter from the Times true?” Charles said.

  “Yeah,” Rooster said. “Geoffrey was all over it.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Charles said. “Is the AG really your mom’s buddy?”

  “He is.”

  “And you already called him?” Charles said.

  “Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “My mom doesn’t like to bug him unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “So, you were bluffing?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  Chapter 23

  Chief Abrams concentrated on his menu as if he were studying for a math test. Josie and I watched him with smiles on our faces then looked up when our server approached.

  “Hey, Sherry,” I said. “How are you settling in?”

  “It’s great,” she said. “I love it here. Chef Claire is so cool to work for.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Josie said.

  “What did you decide on?”

  “We’re both doing the special,” Josie said.

  “Special?” the Chief said, finally looking up from his menu. “I didn’t think about that. What is it?”

  “Tomato soup and grilled cheese,” I said. “Comfort food for a cold and rainy day in March.”

  “Is that the soup with vermouth and gorgonzola?” he said.

  “That’s the one,” Josie said. “And she’s started making the grilled cheese with the rustic Italian.”

  “She tested it out on us at the house last week,” I said. “Total knee-buckler.”

  “I’m in,” the Chief said, handing his menu to our server.

  “Make it four specials, please,” I said. “We’re waiting for one more, and I’m sure he’ll be happy with it.”

  “And if he’s not, I’ll eat it,” Josie said.

  “You got it,” Sherry said, then headed for the kitchen.

  “What did Detective Williams have to say?” I said.

  “He didn’t go into it over the phone,” the Chief said. “He only said he had some news we needed to talk about.”

  “Color me intrigued,” I said, taking a sip of club soda. Then I pressed a hand against my belly.

  “Somebody kicking up a storm?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, she’s definitely making her presence known,” I said, continuing to gently hold my hand over the area. “It won’t be long.”

  “Which means you need to stay close to home,” Josie said.

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

  Detective Williams entered the dining room, and as soon as he spotted us, he approached and sat down.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “What’s good today?”

  “We ordered you the special,” I said. “Soup and a sandwich.”

  “Is that what you’re having?”

  “It is.”

  “Far be it for me to question your ordering abilities.” He poured himself a glass of water, took a sip then sat back in his chair. “Your friend at the FBI delivered.”

  “What did he find?” the Chief said.

  “A lot. I’d love to have access to the information those guys do,” the detective said. “You know, right at your fingertips.” He reached into his bag and removed a notebook. “I took a lot of notes. Let’s start with the easy ones and work our way up.”

  I leaned forward with my elbows on the table.

  “Should I make myself scarce?” Josie said.

  “Why would you do that?” Detective Williams said.

  “Because I’m not a cop.”

  “Neither am I,” I said, glancing at her.

  “Really?” Josie deadpanned. “I guess I forget that sometimes.”

  “Funny.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Josie,” Detective Williams said, flipping through the pages in his notebook. “We’re way past that.”

  “Since when?” Josie said.

  “Since she figured out the last four murder cases I’ve been involved in,” he said, nodding in my direction. “But if anybody asks, both of you have been added as technical consultants to this investigation.”

  “Technical consultants?” Josie said, raising an eyebrow.

  “The wolf research aspect of the case,” the detective said.

  “How about that?” she said. “I’m a technical consultant.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” I said, laughing. “I’m sure it’s a title without a paycheck.”

  “It’s always something, huh?”

  “So, what have you got?” I said, focusing on the detective.

  “Well, there’s nothing on Charles Howard,” the detective said. “Either he’s a model citizen, or really good at covering his tracks. Have you heard back from the Premier yet?”

  “Not yet,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m going to give him another day or two before I call.”

  “That’s fine,” Detective Williams said. “Based on what I got from Agent Tompkins, I don’t think we need to worry about Mr. Howard.”

  “This must be good,” Josie said.

  “Okay, here we go,” he said, reading from his notes. “P-Squared. Mr. Peter Peters. The stuff I already got from our system is pretty much all there is. Two DUIs. A couple of possession charges and a handful of B&Es. Probably did those to fund his drug habit. But he’s been clean for several years.”

  “That’s it?” I said.

  “No, there’s one the FBI had that we didn’t,” he said. “An aggravated assault arrest in Vegas.”

  “So, he does have a violent streak,” I said.

  “He does. And it gets even better. Guess who filed the charge?”

  “His brother,” I said without hesitation.

  “How did you know that?” Detective Williams said.

  “You said it gets better,” I said with a shrug. “Who else would we be talking about?”

  “If you say so,” he said, glancing at the Chief who shrugged back at him. “Anyway, the brothers got into a major fight in Vegas, and P-Squared put him in the hospital. Broken ribs, lacerations, concussion.”

  “Lovely,” Josie said.

  “But Jeremy dropped the charges a couple of days later,” Detective Williams said. “That’s why our system didn’t pick it up.”

  “But the FBI still has the original arrest?” Josie said.

  “They do. I doubt if the Feebs even have a delete key on their computers,” the detective said.

  “What was the fight about?” Josie said.

  “Money,” I said.

  “You reading my notes?” Detective Williams said.

  “No, but during the reading of the will, Jeremy took some shots at his brother when he told him he was leaving him a thousand bucks.”

  “Apparently, Jeremy had gotten tired of funding his brother’s gambling habit.”

  “I smell a motive,” the Chief said.

  “I smell our lunch,” Josie said, doing a half-turn as Sherry arrived carrying a tray.

  She set our food in front of us, checked to make sure we had everything we needed, then left. We ate in silence for several moments before Detective Williams glanced up from his soup.

  “My mom
used to make me tomato soup and grilled cheese whenever I got sick,” he said.

  “Mine too,” Josie said. “But it was nothing like this.”

  “You got that right,” Detective Williams said. “How many different cheeses does she put in this sandwich?”

  “Five,” I said, taking a big bite. “Did you get anything else?”

  “Yeah. A bunch. And it gets better,” the detective said, taking another bite of his sandwich. He chewed as he checked his notes then continued. “Charlotte Peters. Art history professor. Museum and gallery consultant. Wannabe New York socialite.”

  “She’s busy,” Josie said.

  “Been married three times, divorced twice. Now, obviously widowed,” Detective Williams said. “Charlotte Smith, Charlotte Carrier, then, of course, Charlotte Peters.”

  “Does she have a record?” I said.

  “Not under any of those names,” he said with a coy grin.

  I thought about his comment then the penny dropped.

  “She changed her identity at some point, didn’t she?” I said.

  “Very good. Right before her first marriage. She was born Josephine Andrews. We got a match on the prints.”

  “Let me guess. Josephine Andrews has a criminal record,” I said.

  “She does. But when Charlotte got her new identity, Josephine Andrews dropped completely off the radar,” Detective Williams said. “She had multiple arrests as a teenager that continued until she was in her early twenties.”

  “What for?” Chief Abrams said, then wiped his mouth and leaned forward in his chair.

  “Petty theft at first,” Detective Williams said. “And then she graduated to more sophisticated scams. She did some stuff with fake credit cards. Then she and a couple of her girlfriends set up a phony escort agency. That’s the one that got the FBI’s attention because it crossed state lines. They’d set up appointments, then get the johns in a compromising position and take off with their money and jewelry.”

  “But the johns were too embarrassed to report it, right?” I said.

  “Pretty much,” Detective Williams said. “And just when the cops were closing in, she disappeared into thin air.”

  “With her new identity,” I said, nodding.

  “Then our friend, Charlotte, got married and had a kid,” he said. “A daughter. Her first husband paid for her schoolwork, and when Charlotte got her PhD, she dumped the guy and married her second husband. That lasted five years, then she somehow crossed paths with the now deceased Jeremy Peters.”

  “But she hasn’t been in any trouble since she became Charlotte?” the Chief said.

  “It doesn’t look like it.”

  “Did she have any more kids?” the Chief said.

  “No. Just the one.”

  “What about Charlotte’s daughter? Anything on her?”

  “A lot,” Detective Williams said. “She was born Prudence Smith.”

  “Her parents called her Prudence?” Josie said. “No wonder the kid got in trouble.”

  “Yeah, it was kind of cruel, wasn’t it?” Detective Williams said. “The kid was a grifter from the time she was eight-years-old. In and out of juvie multiple times. Theft, drugs, burglary, teenage prostitution, you name it. Apparently, Charlotte finally had enough and disowned her.”

  “What happened to her?” the Chief said.

  “That’s the weird part. She dropped off the radar. Just like her mother had earlier.”

  “She probably changed her name,” Josie said. “I know I would have. Prudence? That’s just cruel.”

  “Did the FBI have anything on Clarissa?” I said.

  “Not really,” Detective Williams said. “She’s been working for Peters for a couple of years. Before that, she was in college. She managed to get caught up in some counterfeit art scam while she was in grad school, but the cops couldn’t prove she was involved. Interviewed, but never charged. That’s all there is on Clarissa.”

  My neurons surged, and I flinched just before I was about to take a bite of my grilled cheese.

  “Here we go,” Josie said, staring at me.

  “What is it?” the Chief said.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Let’s back up a bit. What was Prudence’s full name?”

  “There’s just an initial for the middle name,” he said, reviewing his notes.

  “It’s C, right?”

  “It is,” Detective Williams said with an open-mouth stare.

  “Do you have the name of Charlotte’s first husband?” I said, rubbing my head harder.

  “I do,” he said, maintaining his stare.

  “It was George, wasn’t it?” I said. “George Smith, right?”

  Detective Williams held his notebook up to the light.

  “Can you somehow see through this?” he said, stunned. “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Clarissa George,” I whispered.

  “Wow,” the Chief said, shaking his head. “Is it possible?”

  “You’re telling me Clarissa is Charlotte’s daughter?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, I think I am.”

  “Holy crap,” Detective Williams said. “If you’re about to go where I think you are, they were playing a very long game.”

  “The best grifters always do,” I said, then scowled. “Hang on. The prints on the wine glass. They should have been able to match Clarissa’s to Prudence.”

  “There were no prints on Clarissa’s glass,” Detective Williams said.

  “She wiped her glass clean?” Josie said. “Who does that?”

  “Force of habit, maybe,” Detective Williams said. “She’s probably gotten good at covering her tracks.”

  “Her mother disowns her, and Clarissa decides at some point to either try to reconcile with her or come up with a way to somehow con a bunch of money out of her,” I said.

  “I gotta ask, Suzy,” Josie said. “Because if I don’t, it’s just going to keep me up at night. How did you tie that together?”

  “The counterfeit art scam,” I said. “Charlotte is some sort of consultant to the art world.” I looked at Detective Williams. “The counterfeiting ring was operating out of New York, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. But if Clarissa is working with her mother, she must have been looking to reconcile instead of trying to screw her over.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “And it was pretty clear from Charlotte’s reaction to the will, she’s having some financial trouble.”

  “They figure out a way to get Clarissa hired by Peters, then they’re somehow able to convince Lamplighter’s assistant to change the will?” the Chief said.

  “That would have been Clarissa’s job,” I said. “Althea never had a lot of friends.”

  “What does that have to do with the price of fish?” Josie said.

  “She’d be susceptible to someone around her age being friendly to her,” Detective Williams said.

  “Exactly,” I said, nodding.

  “Did any of you ever see Clarissa around the area?” the detective said, glancing around the table.

  We all shook our heads then I had a thought.

  “But Althea liked to come here for drinks after work,” I said. “Maybe Millie will remember Clarissa.”

  “We can arrange that,” Detective Williams said.

  “Let’s start with a photo,” I said. “Clarissa was on edge at the lodge the other night. We don’t want to do anything that might cause her to run.”

  “There’s just one problem,” the Chief said. “Charlotte and Clarissa are pretty small women. Do you think either one of them could have done that much damage to the back of Peters’ head? Freddie is convinced he was only hit once.”

  “If someone was in a rage, I think it’s possible,” I said.

  “P-Squared?” Detective Williams said.

  “Sure,” the Chief said, nodding. “The estranged brother agreeing to do it for a nice cut of the will. I don’t have any problem making that work.”

  “Maybe,
” I said, doing my best to rub away the headache that was now dominating my frontal lobe.

  Chapter 24

  I glanced out the window of my office and watched the dogs as they roamed the play area or napped in the sun. We’d hit the time of year when the snow was gone, but the ground was still partially frozen. As such, we could leave the dogs outside most of the day and not have to worry about the arrival of the spring mud for at least another week. After that we’d begin, weather permitting, a daily bathing ritual that required the entire staff’s participation; a ritual that ran between four and six weeks until the sun finally managed to dry the two-acre area out.

  I sat down at my desk and reviewed the stack of paperwork needing my attention. I paid bills, reviewed the status of our inventory, then called our accountant to make sure she had everything she needed to process our payroll. Satisfied I was on top of everything, I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls then rocked back and forth in my chair, deep in thought.

  Josie entered wearing her scrubs and immediately stretched out on the couch. I grabbed a bag of bite-sized from a drawer and tossed it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, grabbing a small handful. “Where are the bruisers?”

  “I put them out to get some sun,” I said, catching the bag when she tossed it back.

  “Good call. They can use the exercise. How’s Tiny doing today?”

  “He’s doing great,” I said, swiveling around in my chair to take another look out the window. I spotted the Great Dane rolling around on the ground with Chloe.

  “That Adequan seems to be working miracles,” she said.

  “Have you finished all the injections?”

  “I’ve got one more round to go. Tiny hates getting his shots, but we can’t argue with the results. His hips are doing much better. With any luck, we’ve bought him another year or two.”

  “Well done. My little miracle worker.”

  “What are you working on?” she said, polishing off the last bite-sized.

  “Paying bills. Oh, I just spoke with Marjorie. We actually turned a profit last month.”

  “Really? We never make money in February. How much?”

  “Thirty-seven dollars,” I said, laughing.

  “Great. Now I can buy that new car,” she said, laughing along before turning serious. “What are we going to do with those hybrids?”