by B R Snow
“But since people who die of natural causes usually aren’t buried in shallow graves in the woods, you kept looking, right?” I said, groaning softly when Chloe jumped up on my lap and stretched out.
“That’s why you’re the Snoopmeister,” Freddie said, laughing. “Yeah, I kept looking.”
“Something came back on the toxicology report, didn’t it?”
“How the heck did you know that?” Freddie said.
“Lucky guess. He didn’t happen to OD on crystal meth, did he?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re starting to scare me, Suzy.”
“Me too,” Chief Abrams said, staring at me. “How on earth did you figure that out?”
“Freddie has another cousin, the daughter of the dead guy who, according to her brother, has a major drug problem.”
“And that was all the information you needed to make the connection?” Freddie said. “No way.”
“But he did overdose on crystal, right?”
“Yeah, he sure did. He had enough of it in his system to choke a horse,” Freddie said. “But there has to be more to the story. If that’s all you had to go on, I’m going to start thinking you’re psychic.”
“The daughter lives in the area,” I said.
“Really?” Chief Abrams said. “Where?”
“Last known address, Deferiet.”
“Interesting,” Chief Abrams said, getting up from his chair to start pacing back and forth.
“Why is it interesting?” Freddie said. “The town pretty much died after the paper mill closed.”
“Yes, it did,” Chief Abrams said. “And that opened up a lot of opportunities for folks looking for somewhere nice and quiet to set up shop.”
“You lost me, Chief.”
“Cookers,” I said, softly.
“Exactly,” Chief Abrams said, nodding.
“Are you telling me that the dead guy and his daughter were cooking meth in downtown Deferiet?”
“No, I doubt very much if they’re cooking in town. You can smell that stuff a mile away when it’s being made,” Chief Abrams said. “Somebody definitely would have noticed.”
“But there are a ton of old farmhouses around the area that are nice and remote,” I said.
“There certainly are. And they’re undoubtedly very cheap to rent,” Chief Abrams said. “It wouldn’t be hard to find out who is renting mailboxes at the local post office.”
“Sammy and I are heading there tomorrow to track her down and break the news about her dad.”
“You want me to come along?” Chief Abrams said.
“No, if they are cooking meth, having a cop show up at their door would only make them suspicious.”
“Okay, but be careful. And call me if you have any problems. Those crank heads can be mean and very unpredictable.”
“Will do,” I said, staring out the window deep in thought. “How big a dose did the guy take?”
“It was massive. Four to five hundred milligrams,” Freddie said. “That’s at least triple the standard amount for an overdose. It was almost like he was trying to commit suicide. Apart from the shallow grave, of course.”
“I doubt if he was a willing participant. And with that big of a dose, they weren’t taking any chances that he’d survive,” Chief Abrams said, helping himself to coffee.
“No, they weren’t. The geniuses who killed him shouldn’t have bothered burying him,” I said. “We probably would have written it off as a suicide. Or an accidental overdose.”
“Yeah, I’m sure we would have,” Chief Abrams said. “But cookers usually aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.”
“Well, this group hasn’t blown themselves up yet,” I said. “For now, we should probably assume they know what they’re doing. But why use the woods behind our place?”
“I took a look yesterday, and there’s an access road on the other side of the woods where it would be easy to park a car out of sight. It’s a bit of a hike to the spot where we found the body, but it’s doable,” Chief Abrams said.
“But why those woods?” I said, then a light bulb went off.
“Uh-oh,” Freddie said, laughing. “She’s got that look.”
“Talk to me, Suzy,” Chief Abrams said, sitting on the edge of Freddie’s desk.
“A boat. Somebody is coming in by boat in the middle of the night. There’s a lot of shoreline with decent access about a quarter mile up from us. They’re using those woods as a meeting place.”
“To do what?” Freddie said.
“To swap meth for cash would be my guess,” Chief Abrams said. “So, they’re selling to somebody on the Canadian side?”
“That’s smart,” I said. “If they aren’t selling their product locally, that must lower their risk of getting caught, right?”
“It would,” he said, nodding. “And as long as they keep a low profile, and nobody gets a whiff of what they’re up to – pardon the pun – they should be able to stay below the radar.”
“And you think Sammy’s uncle was right in the middle of all this?” Freddie said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I have a feeling that, one way or another, the daughter definitely knew her father was around.”
“And you expect her to lie to you tomorrow when you stop by?” Chief Abrams said, grinning.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 15
Josie was extremely unhappy with me when I told her where I was going, but she settled down when I explained the purpose of my visit. I got up very early to take care of some overdue paperwork, and do a bit of work on a paper we were presenting together at an upcoming conference in Ottawa. And only when the sun had risen far above the horizon did I head down to the dock with Chloe at my heels.
I hopped in the boat, started the new motor, and nodded appreciatively at its quiet purr. With Chloe perched in the seat next to me, I headed for Summerman’s island at a speed that produced the least amount of wake. The water level was still high, and it was definitely having an impact on the number of boats on the River. Traffic was very light, and I reached the island in a little over thirty minutes, parked in the boathouse, then heard the sound of a piano coming from the library.
Summerman’s dog, Murray, greeted us with a loud woof, then recognized both of us and he and Chloe dashed off to play and explore the island. I tapped on the screen door, and the music stopped.
“Yes?”
“It’s me,” I said, opening the door.
“Hey, Suzy,” Summerman said, getting up to greet me and give me a gentle hug.
“I get a hug? So, you’re not still mad at me?”
“No, what’s the point of staying mad? Life’s too short, right?” he said, grinning.
“For some of us, I suppose.”
“Are you here to deliver a message from Josie? She still isn’t talking to me.”
“Me either,” I said. “I mean, she’s not talking to me about you.”
“Yeah, I got it,” he said, sitting back down at the piano. “So, what’s up?”
“I just have a few questions about the favor the woman on the other side asked you to do.”
“Okay,” he said, beginning to play. “But I already told you I wasn’t paying close attention to what she was saying.”
“Could it have been the guy’s ex-wife?”
“I guess it could have been, but I don’t think she mentioned it,” he said, shrugging as he started to play a complicated progression up and down the keyboard, then stopped, started again, then stopped and stared down at the keyboard. “Geez, I remembered it yesterday. What the heck is going on with my brain today?”
“Sure, brain cramp. I get those all the time.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said, laughing as he completed the run to perfection. “There we go. That’s better. You like it?”
“It’s good.”
“Thanks. What else have you got for me? I need to get ready. We’re heading off for a few days.”
“Going anywhere
interesting?”
“I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” he said.
“How about fun?”
“How about you stop asking questions regarding where I’m going?”
“Got it,” I said, nodding. “I was wondering if the location she told you to look for the guy in was the woods behind our place.”
He stopped playing and stared at me.
“As a matter of fact, it was. How did you know that?”
“That’s where we found the body buried.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know. How did he die?”
“A massive overdose of crystal meth.”
Summerman frowned.
“She didn’t mention anything about drugs,” he said. “The only thing she said was that he was in over his head on something.”
We heard the low woof coming from the other side of the screen door.
“No, you’re spoiled enough as it is, Murray,” Summerman said. “Open it yourself.”
I swear I heard the dog grumble as he tapped the door with a paw, caught the door with his head, then held it open for Chloe to squeeze through before following her inside. Chloe waited for me to pet her and then stretched out next to Murray under the piano.
“He’s excited. He knows we’re going somewhere,” Summerman said. “Murray loves to fly.”
“Good for Murray,” I said, turning back to the door when I heard another noise.
Two men entered, took a long look at me, then sat down next to each other on the couch. One was older, somewhere in his fifties I guessed, attractive, and seemed to have a pleasant disposition. Except for the eyes, which bore deep as he continued to study me. The other man was one of the smallest adults I’d ever seen, and the best description I could come up with for his mood was grumpy disinterest.
“Are you about ready to go?” the older man said. “Captain Bob just called, and he said the plane’s all set.”
“Almost. I just need to pack a bag,” Summerman said. “Doc, Merlin, I’d like you to meet Suzy Chandler. Suzy, this is Doc and Merlin. They’re two of my closest friends and colleagues.”
“Are they…?”
“Part timers?” Summerman said, laughing. “No.”
“I can only wish,” Doc said.
“This is the nosy one you’ve been talking about who can’t stop sticking her beak where it doesn’t belong?” the small man named Merlin said.
“Nosy is a bit harsh, don’t you think, Summerman?” I said. “I prefer the term snoop.”
“Call it whatever you want,” Merlin said, glaring at me. “Just keep your mouth shut about Summerman.”
“Oh, you like to get right to the point,” I said, returning his stare. “Usually, I like that in a man, but in your case, I’m going to make an exception.”
Doc and Summerman roared with laughter. Merlin didn’t find it quite as funny.
“You were right,” Doc said to Summerman. “She’s great.” Then he looked over and gave me the once over. “Maybe you’d like to come work with us.”
“Would there be dogs involved?” I said, fighting the urge to flirt with him.
“Only Murray,” Doc said.
“Then I’ll pass,” I said, smiling.
“Good call. If you’re as nosy as he says, you wouldn’t last a week,” Merlin said, giving me a blank stare.
“I don’t think I like you,” I said through a narrowed-eyed glare.
“Get in line.”
Summerman and Doc laughed again.
“You’re such a charmer, Merlin,” Doc said. “Don’t mind him, Suzy. He’s been on the wagon for over a year, and he’s still mad about having to do it.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Summerman said. “Do we have anything in the database about crystal meth operations around here?”
Merlin shrugged but pulled a device out of his pocket that resembled a cell phone and tapped the keyboard several times. He studied the device as Doc leaned over his shoulder. Merlin scrolled through what I assumed were several screens of data, then glanced over at Summerman.
“We’ve got a few things,” Merlin said. “It’s pretty sketchy, but there’s been a huge spike in crystal use on the Canadian side. Around Kingston. That’s what, thirty miles from here?”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” Summerman said. “Wasn’t there a crank head we used to use occasionally as a snitch? I think he was from Kingston. Remember him?”
“Sure,” Doc said. “Tommy Nostril.”
“Yeah, Tommy,” Summerman said. “Is he still around?”
“Let me check,” Merlin said, focusing on the device again. “Yeah, he’s still there. You think he’s started moving product?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Doc said. “It’s probably the only way he could afford his habit. Why do you want to know?”
“Some guy got killed in Clay Bay, and it looks like there’s a meth angle tied into it,” Summerman said. “And Suzy is snooping for clues.”
“What is that thing?” I said, staring at the device Merlin was holding.
“For a snoop like you, this is the Holy Grail.”
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
“Did you get it from the government?”
Merlin snorted derisively.
“They got it from me.”
“I see. What sort of information is on it?”
“All of it.”
“All of what?”
“The information,” Merlin said, frowning. “What do you think I’m talking about?”
“There’s no need to get snarky.”
“And there’s no need for you to ask any more questions,” Merlin said.
“Are you always like this?”
“Only when I’m in a good mood,” Merlin said. “Now, do you want Tommy Nostril’s address or not?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to say the magic word?”
“Oh, I’ve got a magic word for you. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”
Chapter 16
I said my goodbyes to Summerman and Doc and gave Merlin a gesture that I guess could have loosely been considered a wave. I got back to the Inn just in time for lunch and had a sandwich with Josie in my office. She had several questions, most of them Summerman related, but she did perk up when I mentioned the fact that I’d been able to come up with an interesting lead on the Canadian side.
She devoured her sandwich and headed straight into an emergency surgery on a young black Lab that had jumped out the back window of his owner’s car, raced onto the local golf course, then tried to swallow a golf ball he’d chased down about 280 yards off the tee on the ninth hole. Apparently, someone had hit the drive of his life, and, while mildly concerned about the well-being of the dog, was more interested in debating with his playing partners whether or not he was entitled to a free drop. But someone else from the foursome had stepped up and helped the owner carry the dog back to the car then drive while she sat in the back seat massaging the dog’s windpipe. Eventually, the dog managed to swallow the Titleist, but now the ball needed to be surgically removed.
I filed it away as a story suitable for retelling only if the dog made a full recovery, said goodbye to Chloe, and collected Sammy from reception on my way out the door. Since we weren’t in a hurry, and the weather was good, we decided to avoid the monotony of Interstate 81 and wound our way through the backroads until we hit Route 26 South, then headed east on Route 3 until we arrived in Deferiet about forty minutes later. I drove along the main street and shook my head at the devastating economic impact the closing of the paper mill had caused.
“When I was a kid, my mother always talked about what a great town this was,” I said, slowing down to wait for a couple of dogs as they leisurely made their way across the street.
“That old paper mill looks like a bomb hit it,” Sammy said. “When did it close?”
“I think it w
as around 2004, but it had been shrinking for a while. The paper industry starting consolidating in the nineties, and a lot of the small towns with mills bore the brunt.”
“What are the people who are still living here doing?” Sammy said.
“Trying to hang on, I imagine,” I said, coming to a stop in front of the post office. “Okay, you got your story straight?”
“I do,” he said, climbing out of the car.
We headed inside and found the place empty except for an older woman who was sorting a small stack of mail and inserting pieces into various mailboxes. When she saw us waiting at the counter, she approached us with a smile.
“How can I help you?” she said, glancing back and forth at us.
I hung back and let Sammy take the lead.
“I’m looking for my cousin who lives in the area, but I don’t have her address. I thought she might have a post office box here in town.”
“Well, I’m not sure I can give you any information even if she does,” the woman said, shrugging. “Privacy and all that. You can understand that, right?”
“Of course,” Sammy said, nodding. “And I wouldn’t want you to break any rules. But I have some very distressing news to give her. Family news.”
“I see,” the clerk said. “Distressing news, you say?”
“Yes, it’s about her father.”
“Okay,” the clerk said, thinking hard. “Well, if you give me her name, I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I took a look.”
“Thanks. Her name is Jolene Anderson,” Sammy said.
The clerk let the name roll around in her head, then she shrugged.
“I’ll check, but that name doesn’t ring a bell,” the clerk said. “And as you probably noticed, it’s a small town. If somebody is living here and I don’t know who they are, I’ll be very surprised.”
The clerk put her glasses on and tapped her keyboard. She studied the screen then shook her head.
“No, there’s nobody renting a box here with that name. Maybe you should check at the post office in Carthage,” she said, removing her glasses and tossing them on the counter. “It’s not far from here.”
“I’m sure she’s living around here,” Sammy said. “But if I know Jolene, she has a boyfriend. The box is probably in his name.”