“No, it was in the cornstarch.”
“Suspects?”
“Everyone who worked there, at least.” He shrugged. “I suppose any of the guests could have gone into the kitchen, too.”
“Ask the chef and the kitchen workers and waiters who was in there.”
“It could have happened on Wednesday,” Nate put in. “The chef prepared the dish yesterday morning, and he had used cornstarch for something else on Wednesday. It was fine then. So, the arsenic was put in it between Wednesday morning and Thursday morning.”
I said, “All right, between that and the smugglers’ arraignments, it sounds like you two have your day’s work cut out for you.”
They left, and I turned back to the stack of messages. I was invited to sit in on interviews of candidates for the deputy chief’s slot the next week, and I didn’t feel I could refuse. A social worker wanted to discuss plans for a girl Eddie and I had arrested on a drug charge that spring. An assistant district attorney needed to see me about a pending case.
I gave Paula notes for my schedule and finally got down to work on the computer fraud case. I needed blocks of time to set up dummy accounts for myself as a potential customer for the swindler I hoped to catch. I wanted to resolve that case to free myself up to pursue the art thefts. I had a feeling that case could turn out to be very important.
At noon, Eddie and Nate weren’t back. I hoped they weren’t eating at the Québécois Club. I called home, and Abby answered.
“How was your interview?” I asked.
“I got the job, Harvey. I can start anytime, nights.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I’ll give a week’s notice in Waterville and start here next Saturday.”
“Fantastic, Abby. Your rent’s free, as long as you want to stay with us.”
“Thank you. I can stay now until Sunday afternoon if you want me to. I came prepared.”
“That would be great. How’s Jenny doing?”
“Not bad. We were just eating lunch.”
Jennifer came on the line and said, “Hi, honey.”
I smiled at the caress in her voice. “Hey, Abby says you’re holding your own.”
“I think so. Half a sandwich so far. It’s really good to have her here.”
“Is there anything I can bring you tonight?” I asked.
“Just you.”
“I’ll be there as early as I can be.”
I walked down the street to the café that the cops for some reason called “the diner,” even though it wasn’t one, and made myself eat a sandwich and drink a glass of milk. Mike came and sat down opposite me.
“Hey, Harv, what’s up with the Québécois?”
“I’m letting Eddie and Nate handle it, and I’m trying to put my computer fraud case to bed.” I told him what they had so far on the food poisoning.
“How’s Nate working out in the unit?”
“Great. I’m really glad we got him.”
“And Clyde?”
“Too soon to tell. Ask me again in a week.”
“Older guys take a while to settle in on a new assignment.” He smiled. “But then, you know how that is. Had a chance to do anything on the art theft yet?”
“Some. I put out a few feelers, and I had Eddie question the smugglers they brought in about the painting, but they claim ignorance, which is odd, since it was in their vehicle.”
“Hmm, yeah.” He tipped up his bottle of Moxie and took a big swig.
“So, what are you up to, Mike?”
“Looking for a new deputy, tightening up security a little, trying to get department heads to start thinking about their budgets for next year. That would be you.”
“Already?”
“Just get a copy of last year’s budget and look it over and start thinking about it. Paula might have some suggestions. She did a lot of work on the unit budget last year. And don’t forget you’ve got a management seminar October first, and your IBIS training is coming up next month.”
I felt a little steam-rollered. Eddie and I were scheduled to go to the Maine State Police Academy near Waterville for two days of training on an updated ballistics identification system. That would be interesting, but the management seminar sounded like a huge bore.
“Jennifer and I are going to stay at her parents’ house when I go up there for IBIS training,” I said. “Her folks are only twenty miles or so from the Academy, and I’d hate to leave her right now.”
“Because of the baby?”
“Yeah. Did Sharon have morning sickness?”
“Yeah. Well, with Mike, Junior she did. I don’t know about with Debbie. I remember with Tommy, Sharon was crabby the first three months, and miserable the last three.”
“So the middle three are the best?”
“Hey, every woman’s different, they say. Let me ask you something. Does a baby have a soul before it’s born?”
Mike wasn’t a Christian, but his wife was, and lately he’d been coming up with these theological questions for me. He and Sharon must have some interesting discussions at home. At least he was willing to talk about God, and I tried to be patient with his questions, even though Mike didn’t seem to make any progress spiritually. We batted that one around for a while, then I went back to my desk.
I spent most of the afternoon on the computer, setting up the swindler. We’d gotten the tip on the racket from a local woman who had been taken for over five thousand dollars in phony investments. I’d spent several days unraveling the scheme, and had now tracked the thief electronically to York, Pennsylvania.
I made some calls and filled in the local police down there. They would make the arrest, and I started faxing documentation they would need to press charges. At four-thirty, they phoned me to say the swindler was in custody, and I felt like I’d done a good day’s work.
Eddie and Nate came in and discussed the Québécois case with me. They had a promising list of suspects and were leaning toward a former employee of the club who had been fired for rudeness to the elderly patrons.
“Aren’t you disappointed it wasn’t an Anglo?” I asked, “or maybe a Scandinavian?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Harv.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said.
Nate actually chuckled, which told me he was getting used to me and knew I wouldn’t bite his head off over small stuff.
They decided to come in on Saturday and carry on with the case. Paula said goodnight and went home. While the guys polished off their reports, I went back to the art case. I pulled up copies of the reports on Legere’s two art thefts, then entered several key words into my flagging program. I did some research on the artists whose works had been stolen. There were no artists in common for the items stolen in the two burglaries, and there weren’t any Nevar canvases reported stolen. I contacted the police departments in several more area towns and asked for data on any art thefts within the last year.
Arnie Fowler called me and said he and Clyde were making progress on their case and would call it a day. I trusted Arnie to file a thorough report. Eddie and Nate emailed me their daily reports and stood up, ready to head home.
Nate headed for the locker room, and I said, “Eddie, look at this.” The police chief in Kennebunk had responded to my e-mail inquiry, saying a Nevar and several other artworks had been stolen in his jurisdiction a few weeks earlier.
Eddie leaned over and read my screen. “You think that’s our painting?” His dark eyes gleamed. “I mean, the one we confiscated?”
“Could be. I’ll have him send a description of the stolen Nevar, and if it’s a match one of you guys can take it down to Kennebunk Monday.”
Abby was setting the table for three when I got home. I greeted her and walked on through to the sunroom, where I found Jennifer on the wicker settee, with a book of poetry on her lap. She was wearing navy sweat pants, white socks, and my old Harvard T-shirt. Her hair was loose and full, and I knew she’d washed and blow-dried it.
�
��Feeling better?” I asked, smiling as I bent to kiss her.
“Much. Abby won’t let me help her with supper, but I think I’m actually going to enjoy eating tonight.”
“Great.” I sat down beside her and put my arms around her. “Mike wants the department to buy more copies of your flagging program.”
“Tell him I’ll install one on his computer for free.”
“He wants it for the entire system, or at least for several officers. Wants to know if you’re going to market it.”
“Oh, that would be a big project. Marketing is not my forte.”
“How about that guy who bought the rights to your programs from Coastal?”
“John Macomber?”
“Yeah. He’s marketing your other programs.” Her former coworker at the software company had made a deal with her earlier in the year.
“Maybe I should call him,” she said.
“Do it tonight?” I gave her my most persuasive smile.
“Okay. Now, kiss me again.”
I was happy to oblige, and I rubbed her tummy lightly. “Do you think our baby has a soul?”
She pulled away and frowned at me. “That’s kind of out of the blue.”
“Not really. Mike asked me.”
“Oh.” She nodded with total understanding. “I don’t know. I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
As if Mike hadn’t give me enough to read up on, with the art case. I kissed her again.
*****
Eddie came over late Saturday afternoon. Jennifer was having a nap, and I took him out to the back yard, where we sat on the lawn swing. Abby brought iced tea out and joined us, sitting beside me.
“I made mashed potatoes for shepherd’s pie tonight,” she said. “Do you think Jennifer could eat that? She always liked it as a kid.”
I thought about it and shrugged. It sounded pretty bland—potatoes, corn, hamburger. “Worth a try. I’m sure she can eat the potatoes, if nothing else. And she tells me the nausea goes away later in the day.”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s called morning sickness.”
Eddie asked about her nursing job, and Abby was soon regaling us with stories of the ER in Waterville, where she had spent the last few months. Eddie was very attentive, and I started feeling like I was the one who should go cook the meal.
Finally Abby looked at her watch. “I’d better start supper!” She jumped up and ran into the house.
“She sure looks like Jennifer,” Eddie said. “She’s smart, too.”
“Eddie…”
“What?”
I shook my head. I was having enough trouble being Eddie’s boss. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if he started dating my sister-in-law.
I went inside to check on Jenny. She was asleep, her shimmering hair fanned out on the pillow. I thought I could touch it, ever so softly, without disturbing her, but her eyelids flew open.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
She struggled to sit up.
“What time is it?”
“Five o’clock. Eddie’s here. Abby’s making dinner.”
She got up and put on her Portland Sea Dogs sweatshirt, and we went out to the patio. Eddie still sat on the swing. He stood when I opened the French door.
“Jennifer! Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. I’m glad you could come, Eddie.”
She reached out to him, and he kissed her shyly on the cheek. He was still coming to terms with Jennifer being pregnant and tended to blush at first, every time he saw her, which was amazing because Eddie is very outgoing and usually in his element around women.
We talked a little, and Eddie updated us on the Thibodeau clan. His grandmère was knitting him a sweater, and Cousin Rene’s baby, Danielle, was rolling over.
After a bit, Abby came and told us the meal was ready, and we went inside. Jennifer ate as if nothing was wrong, and my nagging uneasiness began to fade. I settled her afterward in front of the fireplace in the living room, lit the fire, and brought a crocheted afghan to the armchair where she sat. Eddie volunteered to help Abby with the dishes, and she accepted with alacrity. Girls seemed to fall all over themselves trying to get Eddie’s attention, and I saw the signs in Abby, but he wasn’t making it difficult for her. He wielded that dishtowel like a pro and kept up a running banter with her while they worked.
I set up the Trivial Pursuit game, then went through the study that had been the previous owner’s dining room and pushed the kitchen door open. Eddie was hanging up his dish towel while Abby swabbed out the sink.
“You guys ready for a little trivia?” I asked.
“Only if I can be on your team,” Abby said. She looked at Eddie. “Has anyone ever beaten him?”
“Once that I know of,” Eddie replied, “and then it was bad luck rolling the dice. But Jennifer’s pretty good, too.”
“You can be her teammate.”
I frowned at Abby. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
“Nope. Come on, I’ll let you be team captain.”
Team Eddie had some luck with rolling the dice, but when it came down to it, Abby and I beat him and Jennifer.
“It’s because this is an old game,” Eddie said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Abby nodded soberly. “If they had an updated version, Harvey wouldn’t know all the music and movies. Maybe that’s what I’ll get you two for Christmas.”
“Yeah, a Millennials version,” Eddie said. He was always ragging me about my age, but now Abby was ganging up with him.
“Eddie’s just a sore loser,” I said.
“Now, children.” Jennifer put on her most adult tone. “I believe it’s cookie time.”
After the cookie break, Eddie was ready to head out. It was nine-thirty, and we all needed sleep. I walked out to his truck with him.
“So, did you and Abby talk much while you were doing dishes?” I asked him.
“Yeah. I told her how I go to church with you all the time now, and she said she’ll go with us in the morning. I like her a lot, Harv.”
“Well, take it easy. I don’t know if I could handle having you in the family.”
Chapter 3
Sunday, September 19
Jennifer insisted she felt fine Sunday morning and was adamant that she did not want to miss church. I gave in, and she dressed demurely in a navy jumper and white blouse. Abby wore a nice pants and a plaid blouse. She put her own hair up and did Jennifer’s for her. They might have been twins. I didn’t actually see Jennifer eat any breakfast, but she told me she was all set, and I decided not to make it an issue.
When we got to the church, Eddie was sitting with Jennifer and Abby’s brother, Jeff. He had recently been hired by the Portland Fire Department and moved down from the family farm in Skowhegan. Sitting between Jeff and Eddie was Jennifer’s old roommate, Beth Bradley. She’d sparked a minor rivalry between Jeff and Eddie that summer, but Jeff seemed to have carried the day, and Eddie had backed off.
Jeff came into the aisle to hug his sisters, then had Abby sit beside him. Jenny wanted to sit on the aisle, in case she needed to tear for the ladies’ room. I didn’t say “I told you so,” but sat between her and Abby without comment. I couldn’t help wondering if she was really going to be okay, and how long this would last. Anxiety for Jennifer kept me so preoccupied I didn’t get much from the sermon, but she made it through the service and seemed to be feeling fine afterward.
I said to Eddie, “Do you have a place to eat lunch?”
He leaned toward me and whispered, “The Hammonds invited me.” The Hammonds had a cute twenty-two-year-old daughter, Lydia, who worked in personnel at the B&M Baked Beans cannery, and three younger children. Lydia was in the singles Sunday school class Eddie had been attending.
“Great.” I should have known Eddie would find a new social life in his new circles. He said goodbye to Abby and the others and ambled off to join Lydia and her parents.
During lunch at our house, Abby was rat
her subdued. She had to head north that afternoon and finish out her last week of work in Waterville.
“I hate to go home and leave you,” she said to me when Jennifer had left the table for a nap. “What if she’s worse tomorrow, and you have to go to work?”
“One of her friends could come and stay with her, I guess. I’m really glad you’ll be staying here with us for a while, though.”
“I’d do anything for Jennifer.”
I smiled at her. “I know. Thank you. It’s a big relief to me that you’re willing to move down here and do this for us.”
“Well, I wanted this job change, anyway. The timing was right for everybody, I guess.” Abby got up and started clearing off the table, and I took my dishes to the sink.
“I’ll clean up,” I said. “You need to pack.”
“Okay. I’ll be back Friday, and I’ll start at Maine Medical Saturday night.”
“Bring down your books and things,” I said. “Whatever you want here.”
“Thanks.” She wrapped up the leftover food and put it in the refrigerator, then left the kitchen. I started the dishwasher and wiped the table and counter.
After Abby said goodbye to Jennifer, I carried her luggage out to the car. She gave me a watery smile, then embraced me. “I’m glad she got you, Harvey.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder, got in her car, and drove away.
I went back to Jennifer and stretched out beside her on the quilt. She lay quietly in my arms, and I held her until she fell asleep.
*****
Eddie and I had been running together three times a week for years, and he met me at the corner Monday morning. When we got back to my house, the coffeemaker was running, and Jennifer was making pancakes.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I did that already. Sit and eat, both of you.”
Eddie poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it uneasily, watching Jennifer over the rim of the mug.
He caught my eye. “Maybe I should just leave and see you at work.”
“No.” Jennifer brandished the spatula at him. “I am healthy, and I’m cooking a big breakfast. You can’t leave.”
Found Art (Maine Justice Book 3) Page 3