Beyond a Doubt

by Colleen Coble

  “Did Peter have any enemies you know of?”

  “Every person he scammed out of money was after his head.”

  “What kinds of scams did he run?”

  They’d reached Ted’s truck, and he slung his lunch box inside and turned to her. “You name it, Peter tried it. One time he sold land in Arizona that turned out to be tied up in litigation from the 1800s. Another time he took donations for new firefighting equipment that never made it to the fire department.”

  Bree tried to hide her shock. “Why didn’t the Coast Guard fire him?”

  “They never knew. Peter was always good at hiding his true nature. Most people saw his friendly face and never guessed what was behind it.”

  “You sound bitter. What did Peter ever do to you?”

  “What didn’t he do? He made my life miserable. He could smile and make you believe the moon was made of solid diamonds. My own mother took his part over mine time and time again. One look in Peter’s innocent face and she believed every lie he ever told about me.”

  He slung himself under the wheel and slammed the door then rolled down the window. “You’re right, I’m bitter. I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that he got his.”

  He turned on the engine and gunned it. Then the truck moved away from her in a cloud of blue exhaust. She stared after him.

  She’d gotten more than she bargained for out of Ted. No one else, other than Beulah, had indicated Peter might not be the fine, upstanding lighthouse keeper he appeared to be. It would take more digging to find out. If only Ted had given her some names. Finding people Peter had scammed thirty years ago would be nigh to impossible without some leads.

  She started toward her Jeep and found a man standing near the front bumper. He wore a backwards ball cap that made his round face look Moon-Pie shaped.

  “You’re Bree Nicholls, eh?” He put a toothpick in his mouth and chewed on it.

  “Yes, who are you?”

  “Jeff Syers.” He spat a piece of the toothpick onto the ground.

  Syers. Where had she heard that name? Then it came to her. Peter Thorrington’s girlfriend was a Syers. She stared at him warily. “Odetta’s brother?”

  “Yep.” He jerked his head. “Saw you talking to Kemppa. I’m sure he weren’t no help.”

  She took a step nearer. “I’ve been wanting to talk to your sister. Could you tell me where I might find her?”

  “I’ll do you one better than that. Follow me and I’ll take you to her. She’ll tell you some stuff that will make your hair curl.”

  “Has she spoken to Mason?”

  “She doesn’t like cops. You coming or not?”

  Bree glanced at her watch. “I’ll follow you in my Jeep.” Anu wouldn’t be expecting her for another hour. “How far are we going?” She hurried to the door of her Jeep.

  “Halfway between here and Houghton. Not far.”

  “No one seemed to know what had happened to her. She’s been here all along?”

  Jeff shook his head. “She moved away, got tired of all them old biddies talking about her. But she’s living with me now, and I won’t let none of them hurt her. I told her they’d forgotten all about her by now.”

  “She won’t be upset that I’m dropping in on her?”

  He tossed the toothpick to the ground. “Nope.” He walked past her and got into a light-green pickup. His taillights flashed, and she followed him out of the parking lot. She had to keep her foot to the accelerator to keep his truck in sight.

  Twenty minutes later he stopped in front of an aging two-story edged with metal flashing on the roof to keep ice dams under control. Jeff went directly to the front door. Bree hurried after him and stepped onto the porch beside a pot of plastic flowers that drooped listlessly beside the door.

  Jeff twisted the doorknob and went inside. He held the door open behind him for Bree to step into the darkened interior that smelled of cooked cabbage mingled with cinnamon candle.

  “I’m in the living room,” a breezy voice called. The speaker sounded young, at least as young as Bree.

  “I got her, Odetta.” Jeff grabbed Bree’s arm and thrust her through the doorway into a small living room crammed with ceramic angels in every nook and cranny. Angels filled three display cabinets and covered every table surface. Angel pictures hung on the walls, and a wreath decorated with an angel figurine hung above the television.

  Bree became aware that her mouth was hanging open. She closed it and managed a smile as she tore her gaze from the angelic assortment and focused it on the woman seated in the overstuffed chair.

  Odetta Syers looked like a cherub herself. Her blond hair clustered about her small head like a halo, and her peaches-and-cream complexion would have made a seraphim proud. Her bright-blue eyes held a childish wonder that made Bree smile.

  “Hello, I’m Bree Nicholls.” She held out her hand.

  Odetta’s eyes widened, and a delighted smile lifted her mouth. “I’ve been wanting to meet you. Excuse the mess.” She stood and began to clear the magazines from the sofa. “Have a seat.” She turned a grateful smile on her brother. “You’re a dear to bring her to me, Jeff. Why don’t you fix some coffee and bring it in while Bree and I have a chat?”

  Jeff nodded and left the room. Bree sat gingerly on the sofa. “Your brother said you might have some information about Peter Thorrington’s death.”

  Odetta nodded sagely and leaned forward in a confiding manner. “Would you care for some candy?” She held out a crystal angel dish with hard candy so old it had begun to turn white.

  “No, thanks, Miss Syers.”

  “It’s Mrs. Mallory, now. But call me Odetta, dear.”

  The name Mallory sounded familiar, but Bree didn’t stop to ponder it. “What can you tell me about Peter’s disappearance?”

  “My Peter was quite a man,” Odetta said, taking a piece of candy. “He could sing like an angel. I still miss him, you know. But he found something on that ship that went down. Something worth selling his soul for, was what Peter told me. I told him the angels said it wasn’t good to chase money that way, but he had such dreams. He was going to give Beulah enough money to keep her happy, then marry me.” She dabbed at her eyes.

  Bree shifted uneasily. The woman definitely seemed a little off. “You and Peter were . . . involved?”

  Odetta acted as though she hadn’t heard. “He was so excited, said he was going to be rich, filthy rich. Then things changed.” She scowled, then her smile came out again and she held out the candy dish again. “Candy, dear?”

  “No thanks. What changed?”

  Odetta seemed to collect her thoughts. “Something scared him. The night before he disappeared, he came to see me. He said he was in terrible trouble and that Abe was fit to be tied. I think Peter was afraid of him.” Her smile dimmed. “I never saw him again.”

  Bree swallowed. “Are you saying you think Abe Nicholls killed him?”

  Odetta gave a delicate shrug. “It’s what I’ve always thought.”

  Bree’s mouth felt as dry as Rock River in summer. She’d wondered but hadn’t allowed herself to seriously consider the thought. Please, God, don’t let Abe be guilty of such a thing. It would break Anu’s heart.

  “Why would Abe kill Peter? And why didn’t you mention this to the police?”

  Odetta seemed not to hear. She turned and opened a brass box ornamented with a delicate angel. “Peter gave me this to take care of the baby.” She held out a velvet pouch.

  Bree took it and opened it. A shimmer of small diamonds fell into her palm.

  “I’ve sold some of them over the years, just enough to take care of the baby.”

  “What baby?”

  Odetta ignored her again. “I hear you talked to Beulah too. Did she tell you how she got her start for her landscaping business?” Odetta’s guileless blue eyes glinted.

  Bree remembered Beulah’s reference to Peter’s inexplicable income. “Not exactly.”

  Jeff entered with coffee. “Did she ask you
about Benjamin?”

  “Benjamin?” Bree asked.

  “Her son. Benjamin Mallory. I say his death is connected to this all somehow.”

  Benjamin Mallory. Of course. The man Kade had found shot in the woods. She stared at Odetta. For a grieving mother, she seemed serene.

  “I’m sorry,” Bree said. “I had no idea.”

  Odetta waved her hand. “Ben is here with us now. I see more of him now than I did before he passed on.”

  Bree’s neck prickled. Did this woman know more than seemed possible? “Do you have any idea who might have killed your son?”

  Odetta leaned forward. “The hippo. He ordered it.”

  “Hippo?”

  Odetta nodded. “That’s what Ben called him.”

  “Did the hippo kill Peter too?”

  Odetta’s deaf ear had returned. “Just before you got here, Ben told me to tell you to be careful. You’re in danger, dear. You and your family.”

  Mason’s car was parked in front of the lighthouse. Bree killed the engine and went inside. Picking her way through the scaffolding and work crew, she inspected the work that had been accomplished so far. Most of the soot had been cleaned from the walls, with the exception of the dining room. Black still marred the plaster there, and the worn wool rug under the table looked beyond hope. She’d wanted to replace it anyway. She wandered into the kitchen. The cleaning had begun in here since much of the heavy smoke had poured up the basement steps. Bree sniffed. A hint of smoke remained, but the cleaners had assured her it would soon air out. They were cleaning the soot first, then sealing everything with a coat of paint.

  Clattering and banging noises were coming from the basement, and she heard a heavy tread on the steps. Mason, his face tired and dirty, stepped into the kitchen. “I need a glass of water,” he said. He stopped when he saw her face. “What’s up?”

  She told him. His face paled beneath the dirt. “Let me get this straight. Odetta Syers says she thinks Abe Nicholls murdered Peter and left town before he could be found out? I sure hope she’s wrong.” His voice was shaky.

  “She had a bunch of diamonds, Mason. She’s wacky, but there might be something to her story. And get this: Benjamin Mallory is her son. Peter’s son.”

  Mason’s frown deepened. “I talked to her then, when I was investigating Mallory’s death. I didn’t make the connection. Don’t tell Anu,” he commanded. “Hilary either. Not in her condition.” He paused. “No, no one must know, not until we get to the bottom of this.”

  Bree nodded. “What’s going on in the basement?” Before he could answer, she heard a loud banging, then a crash as something fell over.

  Then Deputy Montgomery’s voice. “Mason, I think we’ve found something.”

  24

  Lauri was getting tired of these cheap thrills. Sooner or later they were going to get caught breaking and entering. But the boys had to show their contempt for authority by knocking out windows and vandalizing cabins. The only reason she was here was because she wanted to find who was watching Bree and Anu. She pretended to take a sip of the beer Brian handed her. She didn’t want to hurt the baby.

  “Like it?” Brian asked.

  She gave him a small smile. “It’s fine.” The smell nauseated her.

  “Fine? It’s the best in Canada. People are clamoring for it. We’re going to make a fortune.” He stared at her, a frown creasing his wide forehead. “What’s wrong with you lately?”

  If by “wrong” he meant that she’d quit laughing at everything he said and doting on his every word, she hoped he’d never see that simpering fool again. The trouble she was in had shown her what a fool she’d been. She shrugged off his hands caressing her back and stood. Crossing her arms, she went to stand by a stack of firewood outside the tiny cabin that was their retreat for today. This was one of the cuter ones they’d used. It had a neat porch that looked out on the water.

  Brian’s arms dropped to his side, and he started whining. “Why’d you even come out here if you’re going to act like that?” He huffed and kicked a stick out of the way. Lauri rolled her eyes. “Women!” he said.

  “When are they leaving?” she asked, jerking her head toward the other boys who stood talking by the fence.

  He looked sly. “Is that what this tantrum is all about? You wanted to be alone with me?” Brian stepped closer and rubbed her arm. “There’s a sauna out back here.”

  She forced herself not to flinch. “That has nothing to do with it! I just wondered when we could get out of here. They—” she broke off as the three guys approached.

  It occurred to her suddenly that Kade had every reason to be suspicious when he’d met them at the Suomi. All in their early twenties, Butch had blond hair with black roots and a cocky manner that made Lauri want to insult him. Fuzz had a nondescript goatee the color of dirty straw and was so skinny he looked like someone from a refugee camp. The other one, Klepto, seemed the most dangerous to Lauri. She didn’t like the way his pale-blue eyes looked right through her. It was eerie, almost like he walked on another plane. She figured he might be on drugs or something. Maybe they all were.

  “Got the shipment stowed,” Fuzz said, a cheerful edge to his voice.

  Klepto shot him a menacing look. “Shut it, Fuzz,” he said, his pale eyes settling on Lauri.

  Lauri shivered and pretended not to hear. Nothing was happening here. “I’m getting hungry,” she announced to Brian. “Let’s go back to town.”

  “See what you can find inside,” Klepto commanded Lauri.

  Everything in her rebelled at his condescending tone, and she wanted to spit in his face. Fear kept her silent though. Once he’d pulled a knife on Fuzz, and she wasn’t sure Brian could—or would—protect her. She stood rooted to the spot until he glowered at her, then she took a hesitant step toward the cabin door.

  “She’s not your slave.” Brian’s protest was weak.

  “She said she was hungry. We all are. Women know how to cook; that’s why you invited her along, right?” Klepto turned to face the trail.

  The other guys turned to look, and Lauri heard the sound of the brush rustling. Then an older man popped through the opening.

  This was Lauri’s first good look at him, and he was older than she’d thought when she first saw the black hair. He was at least in his fifties. His dark hair was balding on top and seemed stark against his skin, almost like he’d dyed it Elvira-black, but that was unlikely. Men didn’t dye their hair, did they?

  His smile was almost cherubic and contrasted with his eyes, which seemed tired and cynical. Dressed in tan chinos and a red shirt, he carried a satchel in his right hand.

  The smile dimmed when he saw Lauri and Brian. He stopped in the path. “Who are these folks?”

  “Just some friends of ours.”

  She noticed that Klepto was uneasy, and Lauri almost laughed at the way he hurried to justify their being here.

  “You can talk in front of them,” Klepto said. “This is Brian Parker.”

  The lines between the man’s eyes smoothed. “I’ll take your word for it, Klepto, if you’re vouching for them.”

  “You bring it?” Klepto’s gaze went to the satchel in the man’s hand.

  “Of course I have it.” The man tossed the bag at Klepto’s chest, and the young man caught it.

  Klepto unzipped the bag and eyed the contents. “Is it all here? The amount we agreed on?”

  The older man jerked his head toward the cabin. “We need to talk.” He began to walk in that direction.

  “Hey, Neville,” Butch began.

  Neville whirled with a scowl. “Don’t use my name!”

  Butch went white. “Sorry,” he said. “Never mind.”

  “I’m not sure why I bother working with you. You’re all such amateurs.” He nodded to Klepto. “Come with me. I’ll show you where to load my stuff.”

  The five men headed toward the car, far enough away that Lauri couldn’t hear what was said. She watched the man Butch had called Neville
. The stillness in his shoulders and the occasional stab of his finger toward Klepto’s chest said he was firmly in control. Lauri told herself she wasn’t afraid, but the sour taste in her mouth whispered another story. This was a man to steer clear of. She watched for a while; then Brian glanced her way. He said something and jerked his head in her direction, then came toward her.

  “You’d better go inside and see if you can find us something to eat,” he said.

  “Who is that guy?” she whispered.

  “You don’t want to know,” Brian said in an undertone. “I don’t think Neville is his real name, but anyone who can make Klepto as timid as a hound pup isn’t someone you want to mess with. I’ve heard the others talk about how he can grab you by the throat before you know he’s moving, and how he once lopped the ear off a man and ate it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Lauri tried to laugh, but the mental image of the ear kept the chuckle from reaching her lips.

  Brian shrugged. “Who knows? I think the ear thing might be made up, but I’ve seen the way he moves quicker than a cougar after a deer. He scares me.”

  Lauri wrapped her arms around herself. She felt caught in a whirlpool as big as the one at the foot of Whetstone Falls, and she was no closer to finding out who owned that chest. She went to the house.

  Riffling through the kitchen, she couldn’t find anything to eat. Maybe she could look around inside while the men were out there. She went to the bedroom. Several boxes were on the floor of the open closet. Lauri pushed them and gasped. The cedar chest was crammed behind the boxes. Did it belong to that Neville guy?

  She stepped to the window and unlatched it. Luckily, it was a new window and slid up a few inches with no noise. She listened.

  She didn’t know the guys well enough to determine who was speaking other than Brian and Fuzz. Fuzz’s whiny, nasal voice was easy to pick out, but the other two had low growls too similar for her to differentiate.

  “It sounds like you’ve got this all thought out.” Brian’s voice was clear.

  Was it her imagination, or did she detect a trace of worry in his voice?