by Amber Boffin
Maggie already felt as if she had known Adam for a long time. Her golden rule with friends and especially new friends was: do not overstay your welcome and leave on a positive note to keep the desire to see each other again. She rose to her feet. “Wow, look at the time. I intended to drop by, not interrupt your day! Besides, I’ve got to finish unpacking my boxes. I didn’t have a chance yet with my first wedding.”
Adam looked at her with alarm in his eyes. “Wedding? You got married? Where’s your husband?”
“No, no, I was the photographer for the Millers’ wedding. The daughter of the owners of Moose Lodge. By the way, I didn’t see you there.”
“I was invited, but I couldn’t make it. Had to see my ailing mother. Would have liked to.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that. Is she all right?”
“It was more a case of attention-seeking. Anyway, you’re always welcome to drop by if you see my car. And don’t worry about this incident at your place; those things happen. I hope it didn’t spoil your return home?” He followed Maggie, who had meanwhile managed to take a few steps toward the entrance.
“No, I’m fine. But if you hear any news regarding the murder, let me know. I feel involved, as it happened on my land.”
Seeing Adam’s forehead crease at the sound of “murder,” Maggie already regretted her slip of the tongue, although she had a strong feeling it wasn’t an accident. She had no proof, just a hunch that would not go away.
“What do you mean? You said it was an accident. We’re a small community here, and frankly nothing much happens, and even less murder, I tell you. At least since I’ve been here.”
“That’s what they all seem to think, but somehow it looks fishy to me. I can’t help it; I sense it. Anyway, thanks for the tea. I’m curious to see the outcome of this story, so keep me posted.”
She winked at him as she walked out the door. Instead of friendly reply, Adam had his back turned and grumbled the word “murder,” shaking his head. She froze on the spot until he looked at her and waved goodbye with a smile.
Back home, Maggie regretted having told him her belief that it was murder. She didn’t know Adam yet had been speaking with him like she would have with Amy. She imagined herself in his shoes; he might think she was a drama queen, worrying and exaggerating, definitely not the way she wished to come across to him.
Or even worse, perhaps he would think it a liar’s slip of the tongue, and she was the murderer who wanted to cover it up as an accident. It horrified her. Looking out from her terrace at her yard, tears welled up, until she pulled herself together. The only way to get out of this would be to find out what really happened.
Chapter Eight
The plumber, Joe Johnson, had convinced Maggie to set up a meeting with the solar panel installer, Leon LeBreton. He had assured her he would be the best man to advise her on the chances of putting her cottage off-grid. At the same time, Joe had secured the installation of her new sink in the kitchen and this very minute had his head in her cupboard, trying to hook it up.
Maggie’s home faced south, which seemed ideal, according to Joe, although Maggie had numerous doubts about such a setup. She wanted to join the green movement if it made sense. She didn’t particularly like Leon LeBreton, given her first encounter with him at the wedding and his salesman’s approach, but since then she had heard he was the best around for solar panels.
Before making Leon LeBreton’s appointment, she had scheduled Fred Wigmott to drop by to discuss roof insulation. Although Maggie genuinely wanted to insulate her roof properly, her ulterior motive was to find out more about Peter’s death. She felt she had to, not only for herself but also to face Adam again.
She didn’t want the plumber to be able to eavesdrop on her conversation with Fred Wigmott about his brother, and was relieved when Joe got an urgent call from a customer to deal with a leak. That also meant she didn’t need to spend an inordinate amount of time talking to Joe, thus avoiding his elaborate explanations about plumbing or making maple syrup. Both topics could have been interesting, but she was quick to note that in his bills he didn’t discount for the time he spent talking.
Soon after Joe left, Fred Wigmott’s black Ford truck pulled up with gleaming chrome bumpers, surprisingly on time. His handshake remained as moist and weak as on their first encounter.
He looked around and said, “How’s it going? A good old log home, like they used to make ’em.”
He still seemed to have trouble with direct eye contact, and his hazel eyes often shifted upward to look just above her head. Having lifted her hand to her head in response to find there was nothing wrong with her hair, Maggie felt a growing irritation. Her eyes landed on a chunky gold ring on his pinkie with an A carved out. He seemed unaccustomed to wearing it, as he rolled it around his finger with his thumb, slipping it on and off until it disappeared into his coat pocket.
Maggie walked around the house, pointing at the old roof until they reached the terrace overlooking the lake.
Fred had been taking notes and nodding sideways all the way when he finally announced, “The insulation, the way it is now is no good for winter. You really should replace the roof too. Spray foaming is the way to go after that, leak-proof and durable.”
Maggie sighed at the thought of what it would entail. Fred continued, “I know it’s a big investment, but I wouldn’t guarantee my insulation for the roof the way it stands now.”
“Really? There’s no leak as far as I know. It looks fine to me.”
“If you keep it like this, it’ll cost you more to insulate…it’s an old building, so it’s difficult for us to squeeze into the attic, and I’m sure there’re bats, aside from lots of mess making it hard to work…it’ll require more time and…”
Seeing where he was heading, Maggie said assertively, “Just give me your best quote for a simple insulation. Replacing the roof will have to wait. Besides, your suit, the one on your picture on your truck, should protect you well. It looks like a space suit!”
“I don’t know who advised you about your roof. All roofers aren’t equal. I’ve got a good friend who could look at it for you, and I’m sure he’ll agree with me.”
Maggie smiled at the thought that his friend would of course be in agreement with him and decided to go along with him for the moment, since an extra quote for the roof couldn’t hurt. Besides, she didn’t want to put him off, otherwise she might not get any information from him regarding his brother.
“Sure, let me know who he is. I can compare things that way. Do you have any clients I could speak with for whom you’ve insulated the roof recently?”
“Yes, of course, my brother’s place…but…” He sighed. “I don’t have access to his house yet, since the police still want to check it out. And the Millers, I did redo some insulation in the cabins.”
Maggie, seeing an opening to ask about his brother, offered him a coffee, and said, “It must be hard for you. Were you close to him, your brother?”
A quiver of emotion twitched the side of his mouth. “Yes, very, he was my little brother. The best snowmobile racer around, he was…always pushing it more than me…too far this time!”
“You raced with him?”
“Yep, as kids and till now. It’s in our blood. I don’t get why the police are still holding on to his snowmobile. It’s mine now, he loved it.”
Maggie asked, “It mustn’t be easy to be pitched against your brother. I don’t have siblings, but I’d hate it. Was there any rivalry between you?”
Fred laughed. “Nope, ’cause I always let him win…he never believed I did it on purpose…we all promoted him in the family. I financed his studies…”
“So he was the favourite child then?”
His body language turned defensive as he took a step back, folding his arms against his chest.
“I miss him! I told him not to run for mayor; it was a mistake. I don’t know why he drank and rode the sled. He never did that before.”
“Was it because of t
his election that he drank?” Maggie asked, not knowing what had happened during the election but having the feeling that there might be a link between the two—if not the drinking, perhaps to his death.
“This election story, he would have won, I’m sure of it.”
“Why’s that?”
“He didn’t want the huge solar farm next to the village on the municipal grounds. A real eyesore, that would’ve been. Who needs green energy here with the hydroelectric dams? Peter wanted a community swimming pool. Everyone was for it.”
“But I heard not everyone liked him around here?”
“He was no angel, oh no, and spoke his mind too much. But I tell ya, he would’ve won. This woman, the new mayor, was against him with her solar panels. She’d do anything to win that one. It’s only because he disappeared conveniently that she won.”
“Really? That’s a rather strong insinuation. Surely in such a small community a fair election would’ve taken place. And you said yourself that it was an accident…”
Averting Maggie’s eyes with his upward look, Fred replied, “You’re right, an accident, but it’s so unfair!”
Maggie gently put a hand on his shoulder. Seeing him cover his eyes with his hand, she didn’t have the heart to ask more questions about his brother. “That’s for sure. Now then, are you still up for making me a quote?”
As if shaken out of his apparent state of grief, Fred smiled. “Yes, of course, you’ll have it by tomorrow.”
As the white van of the solar panel installer arrived, Fred Wigmott frowned at it and took his leave hastily. Leon LeBreton, with his usual loud demeanour, shouted out, “Hey, Fred, not chasing you away, I hope, no hard feelings on my side in any case!” Leon then turned to Maggie with a broad smile. “Hi, Maggie, can I call you Maggie?”
Maggie felt the animosity between the two men. They grinned at each other like two baboons baring their fangs to impress each other. Fred clenched his fist while Leon pushed his shoulder forward, slightly tilting onto the ball of his feet, attempting to increase his size.Something must have happened between them, but what? The first thing that came to mind was that they had worked on a building site together, and as so often happened between trades, there had been tensions, but somehow she sensed it was deeper than that.
Wanting to defuse the tension, Maggie welcomed Leon LeBreton. “Sure, Leon, Maggie’s fine. So I hear that your solar business is booming. I hope you’ll have a little time to give me a quote and perhaps do the job, if I can be convinced.”
At the wedding party, Maggie had noticed that Leon LeBreton loved talking to women and couldn’t help stroking back his long black hair. She had had to save Amy from his grip as he kept returning to her to talk about forensics, as if he were fascinated by the topic, while incessantly scanning her body in the yellow dress when she wasn’t looking. It was understandable, though; the dress had been just perfect on Amy’s slim figure.
Maggie looked at his neatly combed hair, thinking of the laugh she had shared with Amy when she showed her a picture of Leon staring in front of a mirror at the lodge, oblivious to his surroundings, focusing on slowly sliding a comb through his hair. She had seen him do it several times that evening and for the fun of it had counted the number of strokes from one side to the other: always three.
Maggie caught a whiff of his aftershave and giggled. What Denis had told her at the party was true—Leon always wore a lot of aftershave, even though it meant that the black flies and mosquitoes would swirl around his head, leaving the other people around him bug-free.
“Anything the matter?” asked Leon.
“No, no. Just a tickle in my throat,” lied Maggie. It’s fortunate for him the black flies aren’t out yet.
Maggie wondered whether he would wear his pointy cowboy boots when climbing up a roof, or if it was just for the initial client visit. His tight jeans were held up by a leather belt and large silver buckle. In contrast to this cowboy style, he was wearing a fluorescent tricoloured bomber jacket, reminiscent of the eighties with yellow sleeves and the body half turquoise and half pink.
After exchanging pleasantries about her home, they walked around the house to the deck facing the lake to discuss the panels. For the next thirty minutes he spoke about the advantages of solar. Her house had the perfect exposure for it, and interestingly, there happened to be a program running with the current municipality sponsoring his work.
“Do you know now that Stilton’s elected, you can get a credit on your local taxes if you install the panels. Imagine all the savings you’ll make!” Leon LeBreton beamed.
“Well…only after a big upfront payment… I’d have to see the details. Since you seem to know the new mayor well, do you know if the large solar farm project is going through?”
“Sure it is, I’m the one that convinced her.”
“What about the permits? And funding approvals? I heard most of the villagers are against it, as they won’t directly benefit from it and it would be unsightly.”
“All in the pocket already. The mayor’s assured me she can convince all her colleagues.”
Leon LeBreton lifted his chin, looking down at Maggie, his hands on his hips, attempting to increase in size as he spoke. This didn’t sound right to Maggie; either he was lying or the new mayor truly had managed to turn the community away from the idea of a swimming pool. Another option was that Fred Wigmott was wrong about the pool, and the community was simply divided. In any case, she felt she had to dig further.
“I’m surprised. The locals wanted either to keep the field as it is for the summer games or have a swimming pool instead. I don’t see how the panels would benefit them, since all the power generated would be sold back to the electrical company at an advantageous rate for the owner of the panels. You?”
“Yes, but I won’t be the only one benefitting. The locals will get cheaper electricity!”
Maggie couldn’t believe her ears. He seemed to be lying though his teeth. It was highly unlikely the locals would get lower electricity bills. Perhaps the municipality would, but that was it. Feeling angry, she said, “Really…had Ms. Stilton not been elected, this would not have gone through.”
Leon LeBreton shifted from one foot to the other as he abruptly changed the topic of conversation. “Joe Johnson mentioned you wanted to see the solar panels. I can show you the home where I’ve installed them.”
Maggie sensed there was no point asking more questions regarding the mayor. “I’ve already arranged with Joe to see it, thanks. Do you have a problem working with Fred? I was thinking of him for the insulation.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, why should I?”
“I overheard you asking about hard feelings, and I’d rather make sure everyone gets on when they work at my place.”
Leon laughed nervously, peering down at his skinny fingers. “That? No, no, Fred was upset that he lost a bet we had on who’d win the elections. Only a few bucks, nothing serious.”
Maggie looked at him sideways. She wanted to push Leon a little further and tried to provoke him by saying, “Fred believed his brother would have won the elections. Perhaps he was upset because his brother might have been murdered because of the elections…”
Leon’s face grew pale. “Murder…? It was an accident. You shouldn’t listen to the local gossip! He just had an accident with his sled, that’s it, hit a moose or deer, happens all the time.”
Maggie smiled reassuringly. “Yes, you must be right, but still…”
“He was drunk. I saw him at the party. He had a few too many. An accident, I tell you.”
Maggie was silent, wondering how Leon LeBreton could have known the body was Peter’s and that it was an accident, since the police hadn’t officially confirmed anything. Was it from the local gossip, Fred having talked and someone overheard him?
The silence seemed to trigger a flow of words from Leon LeBreton.
“You probably don’t know, but although Peter was the favourite, he was no angel. Did you hear about the sc
andal in Brampton, south of here, where Peter was an advisor to the mayor at the time?”
Maggie shook her head.
“In order to get his position, Peter discredited his opponent, Suzanne McLenny, by digging up her past and exposing it in the local newspapers. A sure way to get enemies.”
“But surely this type of appalling behaviour is not a reason get killed, and you just pointed out it was an accident.” Leon flicked his eyelids and shifted his eyes toward the van. “Is the realtor Fiona McLenny by any chance related to this Suzanne McLenny?”
At Fiona’s name, Leon’s eyes lit up.
“Fiona, no she’s not related to her,” he replied defensively.
She laughed inwardly and thought Leon and Fiona must be having an affair. In any case, he seemed to like her. Not wanting Leon to feel too much at home and settle comfortably on her deck, she ushered him gently up and out by focusing back on the quote that she was now expecting from him promptly.
As he drove off, Maggie couldn’t shrug off the idea that Leon had all motives to want Peter out of his way, but would he kill for it? It could have been an accident, but the more she thought about the story, the more suspicious she grew.
Chapter Nine
Adam couldn’t help thinking about Maggie, a very unusual woman, a tomboy, unlike his ex-wife. He walked around his barn and contemplated for a brief moment the red maple tree flowers colouring parts of the wood with a warm burgundy hue. As he gathered some hay for his llamas, his eyes fell on his snowmobile. He remembered what was bothering him about Wigmott’s skidoo.
There had been something strange about the handlebar, and focusing his mind as if he were looking through a telephoto lens, zooming into the object, he suddenly saw it: the brake cable had been loose. Why had he not seen it before? Oh, yes, he had been distracted by Maggie showing him the body in the water. Feeling the urge to verify his vision, Adam remembered that the skidoo had been brought to his pal Barrie’s garage for inspection; the police relied on him for outside expertise.