Fred scratched the side of his angular nose. “I’m guessing drugs.”
“I’m sure that’s right.”
“How does Randal fit into the picture?”
“He grew up in the area. Worked for the family. They’re loggers, and he operated a skidder before he enlisted in the Navy.”
“Randal still driving the red Corvette?”
The question surprised me. I just nodded.
Fred scowled. “You okay?”
“I am, but I’m going home to call the detective and tell him what just happened.”
“You got a gun at your place?”
“Rifle.”
“Keep it close.” Fred turned to wander back up his driveway.
I called after him, “Have you watered Edgy’s flowers?”
He glanced back at me. “Edgy’s flowers are none of your business, Corinne. Go home and leave me alone.” His broad back hunched as he lumbered into his garage. He stepped back out. “If any of those woodsmen show up at your place, you hightail it right down here. Then we’ll call the cops. If they follow you, they won’t know what hit them.” The garage door slowly creaked downward. He watched me the whole time. His head and shoulders disappeared, then his legs, and finally his feet as the door jerked a little when it hit the end of the track.
I stood stock still, watching longer than I should have, trying to figure out why he had switched from one extreme to another. Since Edgy’s funeral, he’d been acting strange, helpful and easygoing one minute, then telling me to mind my own business and stay away the next minute. That hurt.
I finally crossed the street and walked up the sidewalk to my place, but I peered back a few times and was sure Fred stood, looking through the dirty window pane on the side of his garage, watching me.
I wiped sweat from the back of my neck near the hairline and hurried inside to phone Detective Langnecker. As soon as I heard his voice, I told him about Bev Stafford confronting me and threatening me with a gun.
In ten minutes, he was knocking on the front door. As soon as he walked inside, I blurted, “I know you believe I pushed Edgy, but believe me, I think the Staffords are involved.” I walked him through every single thing I knew, from finding Edgy at the bottom of the hill to Lester’s murder to Theo’s vendetta.
When I finally ran down, he studied me long and hard. “What else?” he asked.
I simply looked at him.
“Mrs. Cooper, I feel you’re holding back, not telling every-thing. I’ll ask again, what more do you know?”
I would not, could not tell him about Edgy spending years in a mental institution and running over her nephew. I had vowed to protect her privacy and would. Fred needed to tell them, but, apparently, he had not. “I don’t know what more I can say to make you understand that I didn’t fight with my friend and push her down a hill.”
Langnecker rubbed his jaw and sighed. “Okay, I’ll run this by the commander and let you know.” He left as quickly as he had arrived. His leaving confirmed they didn’t have enough to charge me.
Did I actually feel a little relief for the first time?
Chapter 23
A busy week sped by while we moved Marley into the old brick hospital that had been converted into condos and apartments. Somewhere along the line I tweaked a muscle in my upper back. It was still a painful reminder of carrying one end of old furniture stored in my garage plus the bed and dresser from an upstairs bedroom.
I clutched the Monday morning newspaper under my arm, balanced my first mug of coffee, and carefully settled onto the window seat. Ending up a little sore was a small price to pay to have Marley settled in her own place. I relaxed my back to a more comfortable angle and grinned from a secret pleasure. I wouldn’t tell her, but the real payoff came in my downsizing without having actually intended to do so. She had started twelve-hour shifts at the emergency room, and I’d probably miss her everyday nosiness about my business. But maybe not.
I glanced across the street at the corner view of Edgy’s house. I hadn’t seen anything of Fred since he had run Bev off and told me to leave him alone. The look on his scowling face still made me shiver. He was a big, crusty man, not to be messed with, and I sure didn’t want to set off his unpredictable temper.
I hadn’t checked on Edgy’s flowers, either, trusting Fred knew how to care for them. If he didn’t, I couldn’t change it.
After unfolding the newspaper, I held it toward the light to read the front page.
A photo in the center jumped out at me—a home engulfed in flames and smoke billowing from the roof. Firemen held a hose, and gushing water arced into the inferno. Trees filled the background of the picture. Headline read: Star Meadow Home Burns Sunday Afternoon. I read in horror that the house had been totally engulfed in flames by the time the fire crew had arrived. They fought to keep the fire from spreading to the surrounding forest and managed to hold the blaze in check. Neither Robert Stafford nor his wife had been at home when the fire started. Neighbors spotted the smoke and called it in.
I held my breath as I read Initial reports indicate arson.
My first instinct told me to phone Detective Langnecker and find out what had happened, but he wouldn’t tell me. I couldn’t call Marley at work, Fred was off limits, Randal gone. If I called Patrick, he would insist on coming home even though he needed to work. His job would only give him so much time off.
Living alone was the worst part of widowhood. People love you and are concerned, but when a shock happens, you’re on your own. I looked around my comfortable, lonely room, trying to deal with the fear rising inside my chest.
Who set Bev’s home on fire? Randal’s warning me to stay away had been right. But the poor woman had lost her home. It had been awful when our warehouse burned. However, none of our personal things had been lost, just stacks of lumber, bundles of molding, and piles of fence posts. Bev had lost pictures of her children and family heirlooms. Devastating.
I barely caught the ring tone from my cell. Where had I left it? I glanced around, and the sound came from the kitchen. I struggled up and hurried to find the phone on the counter by the bread box.
Detective Langnecker’s name showed on caller ID. I swiped to answer.
“Mrs. Cooper?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be at your house in ten minutes.”
The call ended abruptly. He hadn’t given me a choice or told me why. How was that possible? I checked my wristwatch. Eight thirty. Good thing I was already dressed. I didn’t want to hear bad news from him in my housecoat. Suddenly chilly, I stared out the window at the spot where my beautiful spruce tree used to be.
The doorbell sounded at eight forty sharp. I answered just as promptly. I didn’t like the feel of this ordered visit. If he’d asked permission to come by, I wouldn’t have been so wary about what he wanted.
Before I could speak, Detective Langnecker said, “Mrs. Cooper, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I wanted to be the one to talk with you. I also tried to reach Randal Thornton, but he didn’t answer. I know what’s been happening, and you won’t have to be questioned by someone else.”
He looked sincere, and I had the impression the someone else was Theo Wood. I liked Detective Langnecker one inch better than before. I said, “Randal stopped by a few days ago to tell me he was leaving.”
“Was that before or after Mrs. Stafford came to see you?” His tone sounded pushy.
That one inch of liking disappeared. “Before.” I couldn’t help adding, “She didn’t come to see me. She came to threaten me. I told you that.” My voice carried a hard tone I rarely use, like the one you’d save for someone treating you in a passive-aggressive way, like Detective Langnecker had just done.
“Yes, you did,” he said immediately, his way of conceding the point.
“I even told you about my visit up there.”
“I remember thinking there was more you didn’t tell. What else happened?”
I indicated the couch with my hand. “Please,
let’s not stand here like we’re in a sparring match. Sit down, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
He situated himself at the end of the couch but didn’t lean against the pillow or appear to relax.
I sank into the chair across from him. “Skip Smith stopped Marley and me from going into the area where his family lives.”
His brow wrinkled. “Stopped you how?”
“He and another guy were waiting for us as we entered the Forest Service road. I recognized his truck, and we parked to speak to him. He got out and came to my side window. He told me his aunt and grandpa had gone to town. The implication was clear. We were not welcome. A good guess would be Bev called them right after we left her house.”
“But they didn’t actually threaten you?”
“Not in so many words. But Bev did when she showed me her handgun. The threat was absolutely clear.”
“Do you want to sign a complaint?”
“Don’t know what good that would do.”
Langnecker nodded. He accepted my decision without questions.
“Now,” I said, “I’d like to ask you a question. Why do the firefighters think someone intentionally set her house on fire?”
“They found signs of accelerant in at least four places inside the home. Whoever torched it made sure nothing was left. Do you know any more about the families?”
“Randal was mixed up with those people and was scared enough to run. That’s all I know.”
“Have you gone up there again?”
“No, why would I?”
Detective Langnecker didn’t answer. A puzzled look touched his eyes. He drew a deeper breath. “Mrs. Cooper, did you set the fire?”
I gasped. “Absolutely not. How can you even ask such a thing?”
“Had to ask for my report.”
“Why aren’t you taping this interview?”
“This is just a preliminary ask and answer.”
“I did not push Edgy,” I said, strongly enough to get his attention. “You know Marley was with me when Lester was shot, and I sure as hell didn’t set Bev’s house on fire. It blows my mind that you think I could do any of those things.” I blinked a couple of times. “And I know Dean told you he thought Randal sold drugs to Edgy the night she died.”
The detective’s demeanor softened, but that didn’t calm my anger. “Are you going to arrest me?” I asked straight out, not one bit timid about hearing his answer. My justified anger strengthened me.
He shook his head. “I don’t have enough evidence, but if I were you, I’d get a lawyer. There’s a lot piling up against you, beginning with the death of Mrs. Brewster.”
That was Bruce talking, not the detective. “Who would you suggest?”
“Try Timothy Bassett.”
Earlier, Marley had left a message that she would stop by after work, and by the time she showed up, my anger at Bev and then Langnecker was still boiling in my thoughts, and I went off about Bev’s visit and the fear I now felt after Detective Langnecker’s visit. It wasn’t my finest hour.
She studied me. “That isn’t what’s really upsetting you. I think you’re mad at me. Bruce and I didn’t mean to fall for each other. But to reassure you, we’re keeping it very quiet until he finds out who really killed Edgy. We’d never want to bring harm to his job or to you. It’s hush-hush, okay?”
What could I say?
After she left, I tried to fight off an inconceivable thought. How much could I trust my daughter if she was involved with a man who thought I had killed my friend? No, I scolded myself. I knew better. Marley would never say or do anything to harm me. I couldn’t believe I had reached the point of mistrusting even my daughter.
Chapter 24
T he receptionist at Bassett Law Offices said, “Mrs. Cooper, he’s ready for you.” When I hesitated, she pointed to the middle door of five offices. “Really, it’s okay.”
I rose from the soft leather chair and approached the door with Timothy P. Bassett burned by a child into a wooden plaque. No burnished metal for Mr. Bassett, just pride in a grandson who must be a Cub Scout. I smiled to myself as I tapped on the oak door.
A smallish man waved me inside. The top of his head came up to my eyebrows. The lids drooped above his liquid brown eyes, but the look in them shined with alert intelligence. I guessed his age as midway between sixty and seventy. With a sagging belly and droopy jowl, he played to his hangdog appearance and might have changed his last name to match it. But he exuded confidence, and I liked him at first sight. Here was the man I would trust with my future. Relief ran through me for the first time since Edgy had died. Marley had helped a lot, but this was different. This man could do what my daughter and I couldn’t. He was used to talking to the authorities.
Mr. Bassett indicated an overstuffed armchair with a nod. I obediently crossed to it while he sat down behind his polished oak desk in an ergonomic office chair. The back headrest showed a bit above his head. Without any small talk, he said, “Tell me your story.” Under hooded eyes, he studied me and focused on my words.
Should I be nervous? Probably.
I sized him up the same way he was studying me. “The catalyst for each and every mishap was Randal Thornton. He took a wrong turn on a mountain road in the Flathead National Forest, and we got lost.” Layer by layer, I unburdened the story, placing it in trust with Timothy P. Bassett.
When I ran out of words, he asked, “So how the hell did you let all this happen?”
A flush ran up my neck. “I did not let this happen.”
He shook his head and his jowls jiggled. He looked soft yet strong. This was a confident attorney who knew his calling. “So, why do you need a lawyer?”
“Detective Langnecker told me to get one. He says I’m under suspicion in Edgy’s death and maybe arson for the Stafford home.”
“What about Lester Fitch?”
“They can’t pin that on me. My daughter and I were watching the storm through the bay window and saw someone on the ground. We thought he died from a lightning strike. She even did CPR on him.”
“Any other witnesses to your whereabouts when he got shot besides your daughter?”
“No.” It had never occurred to me that Marley and I combined wouldn’t be believed. I clutched my hands tighter in my lap.
“Anything else I need to know?”
“It’s strange, but I sense someone’s watching me. Lester used to spy on Edgy and then me. I got angry and confronted him, but I was never really frightened of him. This is different. It’s more like someone is overseeing me and wants me to feel guilty or is setting me up. Does that sound crazy?”
“A little, but we have built-in mechanisms that forewarn.” He went silent, studying the ceiling, hands curled in his lap, one thumb rubbing the other. Then bam, he stood up. “Odd business this is. Okay, Mrs. Cooper, I’m taking your case. First priority is to learn who or what is spooking you. My investigator will quickly find out if someone is shadowing you.”
I rose from the chair and reached out to shake his hand. Our friendly touch of palms sealed the deal. I was in his care.
“Don’t talk to the cops again,” he said, “without me there. I’ll prepare a client agreement for you to sign, and a five-thousand-dollar retainer is required.”
“I’ll write you a check.” What would poor tightwad Mel think about some of his hard-earned money going to another lawyer? He’d pay it but wouldn’t like it any more than he’d liked paying one to represent him.
“My secretary will take care of you on your way out.” Mr. Bassett was already typing away on the computer when I closed the door behind me.
Later that afternoon, a man flagged me down while I was mowing. I let go of the mower lever, and the noisy motor died.
He said, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Mrs. Cooper. I’m Errol Ragnar, better known as Rags. I work as an investigator for Tim Bassett. I understand some creep is making you nervous. One of my jobs is to find out who, but my main job is to learn what happened to your fr
iend Edwina Brewster.”
“I’ll need to see some ID.”
“Yes, um . . .” He eased his wallet from his hip pocket at the same time I pulled off my leather gloves. He handed me his private detective license. I studied it and then him. This scrawny man in baggy jeans, dirty Nikes, and a pulled-up hoody in spite of the heat seemed a strange choice for Tim Bassett’s go-to guy.
“Mr. Bassett said you’d stop by, but I expected a James Bond type.”
He cut a grin. “I look just like him.”
I shook his hand. “Glad to meet you, Rags. So, you’re going to find out who killed my friend and burned down the Stafford place?”
His friendly face changed to very serious. “That’s my mission. Also, Lester Fitch died on your property, and I aim to find out the who and the why. Bassett gave me orders, and I always try to please the guy who signs my paychecks.”
I took stock of the man. He appeared shrewd and keenly aware of everything around him. His eyes turned at every neighborhood noise. I heard a car start, but he heard it first. His head turned a fraction when a dog barked. He studied the potting shed like he was going to paint it. I told myself not to play pinochle against this guy.
“Mrs. Cooper, I just stopped by to introduce myself so if you see me snooping around I won’t take a bullet for it.”
“You really think I’d shoot you?”
“I do, and that’s a good thing. In a situation like this, you need to be tough. I’d say you have grit.”
I grinned at Rags. He was the first person in a long time to speak like my grandpa, who had told me time and again that I had plenty of spunk just like my grandma. I stood a little taller.
Rags did a quick scan of the yard. “Where was Fitch’s body found?”
I pointed toward the bare spot in the lawn. “That’s where the tree was. Lightning blew it to pieces. Lester was on the ground north of the bare spot. My daughter and I thought he’d been hit with lightning or a chunk of the tree.”
Blame the Car Ride Page 21