Raven Lake

by Rosemary McCracken

  “Soupy and I are taking Ted’s furniture to the locker.”

  I nodded my approval. Bruce needed to keep busy.

  “Leave some furniture in the house,” I said. “Beds and dressers, and the living room furniture. Have you packed the kitchen things—pots, pans, dishes?”

  “They’re in boxes. The same with Ted’s books.”

  “Put them in the locker. Anything else?”

  “There’s furniture from the house in Toronto in the basement.”

  “Take the boxes and the furniture in the basement to the locker tomorrow. I’ll give you a hand. What time are you meeting Soupy?”

  “Ten at Ted’s place.”

  After Bruce had settled the bill, I followed him upstairs. His room held a bed, a dresser, a bedside table and an old television set on a stand. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint.

  “Bathroom?” I asked.

  “Down the hall.”

  He needed to get out of that dreary room. A place of his own made a great deal of sense.

  “Get a good night’s sleep,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bruce was closing the front door when I pulled up in front of Ted’s house the next morning. I rolled down the car window, and he came over. His face was pale and drawn.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “We’re heading out with our first load. Can you take a few boxes?” He gestured toward a stack of cartons on the lawn.

  Soupy gave me a wave as he closed the door of the rented cargo van.

  I opened my trunk, and they loaded it up with boxes. More went onto the backseat, and one took the passenger’s seat beside me.

  On Main Street, I stopped to buy soft drinks and doughnuts. Five minutes later, I pulled into Glencoe Self-Storage’s yard. Two long buildings that faced each other housed the metal-clad storage lockers. The office was in a smaller building to their right.

  Bruce and Soupy had just taken a brown leather sofa out of the van and set it on the pavement in front of a storage unit. Bruce pointed at the unit directly across from it with yellow scene-of-the-crime tape across the door. “That’s where they found Mom,” he said in a choked voice.

  “You provide your own padlock?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He glanced at the lock on the unit where Vi had been found. “That’s not the lock…I heard they cut it off before the auction.”

  Of course. The person who had rented the locker had the key to the lock, and he hadn’t paid his rent.

  Soupy pointed to the roof of the building. “Surveillance cameras up there.”

  I looked inquiringly at Bruce.

  He shrugged. “No idea if they caught anything. If they did, Foster didn’t tell me.”

  “The time your mother’s body was put in the locker would be between four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon and early Thursday afternoon,” I said. “But probably during the night. Is the gate locked at night?”

  “It closes at six,” Bruce said, “but we have electronic cards that let us into the yard after hours.”

  Keycards. The killer would have put Vi’s body in the locker at night to avoid being seen. He had a keycard to open the gate.

  Bruce and Soupy carried the sofa into the locker. I took the cartons out of my car and stacked them at the side of the unit. Then I walked over to the office, expecting to find it closed for the weekend.

  It wasn’t. “What can I do for you?” asked a brunette on the far side of fifty. The nameplate on her desk told me she was Noreen Andrews. The expression on her face said she didn’t suffer fools gladly.

  “I’m a friend of the Stohl family,” I began.

  She gave me a curt nod. “Seen you helpin’ Bruce out there. You run the new financial place in town.”

  I didn’t tell her I was no longer the branch manager; instead, I gave her my best smile. “Ms. Andrews, who rented the locker where Mrs. Stohl was found?”

  She stared at me, clearly weighing whether to answer my question.

  “I’m helping Bruce find out what happened to his mother,” I added as I sat down in the chair on the other side of her desk. “The police aren’t telling him anything.”

  She turned to the computer screen on her desk. “The cops wouldn’t want me givin’ this out, but maybe you can do something with it. People gettin’ knocked off is bad for business.”

  She clicked her mouse. “Frank Prentice. Rented the unit in November. Missed his first payment in April, and we mailed a notice to his address in Bracebridge. When he missed the second payment, we gave him a phone call. Phone had been disconnected. Mailed another notice telling him that the contents of the unit would be auctioned on June 21 unless we received his payments. And we deactivated his card.”

  The keycard that opened the gate after office hours. “When was the card deactivated?” I asked.

  “End of May, after he missed his second payment. Didn’t want him to empty the unit without paying.”

  I turned to the window and looked at the twenty-foot-high wire fence surrounding the property. Vi’s killer not only needed a key to the lock on Frank’s locker, but he also needed a functional keycard to enter the yard after hours.

  Noreen wrote Frank’s name and address on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

  “Did you meet Frank Prentice?” I asked, slipping the paper into my pocket.

  “Nope. My daughter worked the office the day he first came by, but she don’t remember much about him.”

  “How many storage units do you have?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “All rented?”

  “Got eighteen rented now.”

  That meant eighteen activated cards were in circulation. “Does your security company keep track of which cards open the gate throughout the day?”

  “The cops asked the security guy about that on Thursday. He said the system will be able to do that with its next upgrade. Right now, everyone basically gets the same card.

  “The cops said they’d talk to all the renters,” she added. “I gave Detective Foster their names.”

  I didn’t think she’d share those names with me, but I decided there was no harm in asking.

  “Sorry,” she said, “that’s confidential client information.”

  I tried a different tack. “Did the surveillance cameras have footage of what went on in the yard the night before the auction?”

  “That’s another question the police asked,” she said. “Cameras showed no activity that night. Yard was quiet as a grave.”

  Her smile told me her choice of words was intentional.

  I had one more question. “Do your tenants give you keys to their lockers?”

  “They do not,” she snapped, and her face shut down.

  I was glad I’d saved that question for last.

  Out in the yard, Bruce and Soupy were about to drive back to Braeloch. Bruce stuck his head out of the van’s window. “See you at the house, Pat?”

  “You bet.”

  We took another load to the locker. When we’d arranged the furniture and boxes in the unit to Bruce’s satisfaction, I took my cooler out of the trunk.

  “I should’ve thought of that,” Bruce said when he saw what I was carrying.

  We sat on a bench in the yard with our drinks and the box of doughnuts.

  “Noreen in the office said the cameras showed no activity the night after Vi went missing,” I said.

  Soupy gave a low whistle. “How did her body get into the locker?”

  Bruce muttered something I couldn’t make out.

  “What is it, Bruce?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe anyone would do that to Mom.”

  I placed a hand on one of his, and Soupy changed the subject. “My band’s playing a stag in Bracebridge tonight. Like to come along?” he asked Bruce. “We could use some help with the equipment.”

  “I’m not up for it,” Bruce said.

  “Then what do you say to a barbecue at Black Bear Lake?”
I asked. “Just you, me and the kids.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Come by around five.”

  Bruce took the platter of meat from me as I was heading out to the barbecue. “Allow me,” he said.

  I knew that it would do him good to feel helpful. And he proved to be adept at the grill, delivering steaks done to everyone’s satisfaction.

  After we’d eaten and washed up, Laura retreated to her room, and Tommy and Maxie went back outside. Bruce and I took our coffee mugs to the living room. He sat on the sofa facing the fireplace, looking bereft. “The police released Mom’s body this afternoon,” he said.

  “Will there be a funeral?”

  “At Morrison Funeral Home on Tuesday.”

  I smiled my approval. A funeral service would bring him some closure, although his ordeal wouldn’t be over until Vi’s killer was found.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  He smiled weakly. “Mom is gone. I have nobody else.” He sounded like he’d come to the end of his rope.

  “You have friends,” I reminded him.

  He clenched his hands into fists. “I want Mom’s killer found and brought to justice.”

  I wanted that too. Then Bruce would no longer be a suspect. “There’s one thing we know about whoever who killed your mother,” I said.

  His eyes bored into mine. “What?”

  “He must’ve known her,” I said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Why would anyone want to kill a harmless, confused woman. Whoever killed her must have done so because of something that happened in the past. How old was Vi when she and Ted left here?”

  “Twenty-five. When they moved back a few years ago…” He looked down at his hands. “…she wasn’t the same person. She couldn’t look up her old friends. The only people who visited her at Highland Ridge were Lainey Campbell and me.”

  “It may have been someone who knew her in Toronto. Have you seen anyone at Highland Ridge who might have known her in the city?”

  “I almost forgot. She had one other visitor.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Daniel Laughton.”

  “Daniel Laughton, the environmentalist?” Laughton had taught at the University of Toronto. He’d had a kids’ television show for many years that explained the natural sciences in an easy-to-understand way. He was now the news media’s go-to guy on all things environmental. Especially for his willingness to criticize governments for failing to protect the environment.

  Bruce nodded. “That’s him. His family had a summer place up here, and he and Mom met when they were kids. Later, they kept in touch in Toronto. When Mom moved back here, he visited her at Highland Ridge.”

  Laughton was someone we needed to look at, although I couldn’t imagine why the famous environmentalist would want to harm Vi. “Anyone else?” I asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “The locker was probably a temporary measure,” I said. “The killer planned to remove Vi’s body later, but he didn’t know that the locker’s contents would be auctioned off the next day.”

  “So the person who rented the locker wasn’t the one who…put Mom there.”

  “The person who killed Vi must’ve known who’d rented the locker, and somehow got hold of the key. He also needed get through the gate after hours, and Noreen deactivated the renter’s keycard when he missed his second payment.”

  That put Bruce on full alert. “Who was this guy? Superman?”

  “No, he had a functional card that opened the gate. So we know something else about the killer.”

  “What?”

  “He’d rented a unit at Glencoe Self-Storage,” I said. “He’s one of the eighteen people who currently have lockers that the police are talking to.”

  Bruce scowled. “I bet they haven’t spent as much time with the other seventeen as they have with me.”

  He was probably right. He had a motive. He stood to inherit Vi’s share of Ted’s estate.

  “Ever heard of Frank Prentice?” I asked.

  He cupped his coffee mug in his hands and stared into it for a few moments. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Frank rented the locker. Noreen Andrews gave me his address in Bracebridge. Let’s talk him tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Laura was pecking at a piece of toast as I outlined my plans for the day. “Santa’s Village?” She dropped the toast on her plate. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “It’ll be fun for Tommy and good experience for you,” I told her.

  Laura gave me a whatever-do-you-mean look.

  “Entertaining your son or daughter,” I said. “I assume you’ve given that some thought.”

  “Will Santa be there today?” Tommy asked.

  “I’m sure he will,” I said. “That’s why it’s called Santa’s Village.”

  “Can Maxie come with us?” he asked.

  “They told me on the phone that you can’t bring dogs into the park so she’ll stay with me when I drop you and Laura off.”

  Laura scowled. “What will you be doing while we’re playing with the elves and the reindeer?”

  “I have the address of the man who rented the storage locker where…” I glanced at Tommy’s place at the table, but he was heading for the stairs to get dressed. “…Bruce’s mother was found. He lives in Bracebridge.”

  Laura wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You’re playing detective again. Bruce should go with you.”

  “He is.” I glanced at my watch. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Be careful, Mom,” Laura said as she pushed her chair back from the table. “This guy may have killed Vi.”

  “I doubt it. Why would he put her body in the locker if he knew that the contents would be auctioned the next day?”

  I caught the gleam in her eyes. Vi’s murder had sparked her interest.

  We ate the lunch I’d packed in a park on the Muskoka River. Then I dropped Laura and Tommy off at Santa’s Village and told them we’d be back at three o’clock. I followed the instructions on my GPS to the address Noreen had given me.

  It turned out to be a white stucco house with a green metal roof. A For Sale sign was on its lawn. Bruce and I left Maxie in the Volvo, and walked up to the front door. The shades on the windows were drawn, and no one answered when I rapped the brass knocker.

  “No one’s home,” Bruce said.

  I rapped again. Four loud raps. No answer again.

  “Maybe Frank’s already moved,” Bruce said.

  We went around to the back. The shades were drawn on the back windows, and the plastic patio furniture had toppled over on the small deck.

  A photo of a real estate agent by the name of Bill Vasey was on the For Sale sign. Vasey worked for a branch of the real estate giant, Monarch Realty. We’d passed a storefront for the company on Bracebridge’s main street.

  “Bill Vasey may know where Frank is,” I said to Bruce.

  We returned to Maxie and drove over to Monarch Realty.

  A blonde in a navy pantsuit was the only agent on duty. “Bill is showing a property,” she told us. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Frank Prentice who lives at 48 Falcon Avenue. I see that his house is for sale.”

  A shadow passed over her face. “That’s Bill’s listing. You’ll have to talk to him.”

  I took a business card from my handbag, wrote down the phone number at Black Bear Lake, and handed it to her. “Have Bill call me.”

  “Let’s talk to the neighbors,” I suggested when we were out on the sidewalk.

  “Good idea,” Bruce said.

  Nobody answered the doors on either side of 48 Falcon Avenue. But a tiny old woman with thinning white hair came around from the back of the rundown cottage across the street.

  “Haven’t seen him for months,” she said when we’d asked her about Frank. “He used to wake up the neighborhood coming home in his truck or on that big motorcycle of h
is. It’s been nice and quiet around here since…Easter, I guess.”

  And now his house was up for sale.

  “Did Frank own the house or rent it?” Bruce asked.

  She looked surprised by his question. “Well, he put on that metal roof two years ago so he must own it.”

  “How long has it been up for sale?” I asked.

  The woman thought about that for a moment or two. “Seven or eight weeks.”

  That would have been late April. “Is Frank married?” I asked. “Children?”

  She shrugged. “Lived there by himself.”

  “Frank’s a roofer,” she said when I’d thanked her, and we had turned to go. “Prentice Roofing, the sign on his truck said.”

  Bruce and I crossed the street in silence. “Frank’s dead,” he said when we were in the car.

  I searched his face. “Why do you say that?”

  “His neighbor hasn’t seen him in a couple of months and his house is up for sale.” He paused for a few moments. “And Mom’s killer knew that he wouldn’t be coming back to his locker.”

  “All we know is that he hasn’t been seen for a while,” I replied. “Maybe he found a job somewhere else and moved. Forgot about the locker.”

  He shook his head. “He had a business in this area. He wouldn’t leave a business he’d built up.”

  Bruce had become quite a businessman himself in the past few months. His position at The Times gave him an income, a product he could take pride in and status in the community. He had to stay tuned to everything that went on in the township and keep the newspaper’s advertisers happy. I hoped that would keep him grounded at this unsettling time in his life.

  “Speaking of businesses, the newspaper is looking good,” I said.

  “Thanks mainly to Maria,” he said. “She’s been at The Times for years, long before Ted bought it. As soon as Ted’s estate is settled, I’ll change the masthead. Maria will be editor-in-chief.”

  Maria put in long hours at the newspaper. She deserved the recognition. “She’ll be happy about that,” I said.

  “Don’t go telling her yet.”

  Bruce took Maxie for a walk along the river while I shopped for groceries. “Are you up for a visit to Highland Ridge when we get back?” I asked Bruce when I met them at the car.