Eccentric Lady

by Curry, Edna

  The report on Agnes I’d requested earlier under that same law, had come in. Nothing. No camera had captured her driving in the area the past three days. Of course, she could have driven where there weren’t cameras, but it was unlikely that she knew about them and knew which routes to drive to avoid them. So where the heck was she?

  I fixed a frozen entrée for my supper and then spent a half hour on the phone with Paul. He was tired and grumpy, having problems with a couple of drivers who weren’t keeping on their schedules, so we cut it short. I watched the news and answered a phone call from Patti.

  She said, “I still haven’t heard from Agnes. Her cell phone just goes to voice mail.”

  “So it’s turned off or out of power?”

  “Right. I talked to Corey and Rolly Billings, Agnes’ lawyer. Neither has heard from Agnes either.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “No, both said they seldom do talk to her.” Patti sounded even more frustrated and worried. “Did you hear anything?”

  “No.”

  “Any luck with the sheriff?”

  “No, he says not to worry. She often goes out of town for a few days.”

  “Not without cancelling her appointments. It’s just not like her. Please keep trying.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up and decided Agnes would never know whether I had searched her files or not, so pushed away my guilt feelings and went back to my computer. I began searching the jump drive I’d copied her files onto. Patti had found a couple of her bank statements and given me the account numbers. So I just had to get into her files on line somehow.

  She had an endless amount of stock market info, newsletters, company annual reports, various guru’s opinions. Many emails with Patti concerned various stock choices and their discussion of them, pros and cons about whether to buy or sell. Several programs listed their choices on various days, and a Quicken file listed their current potential value. Whoa.

  She must take that stock market game she and Patti played pretty seriously. Maybe it filled a lot of her spare time. I couldn’t find any emails or other evidence suggesting she had any romantic interests. Though she did apparently have a Kindle and bought a lot of romance and mystery novels as well as business books through Amazon’s website.

  I lucked out when I found an oddly named excel file that turned out to be one in which she’d listed all her passwords. All right! She was human after all. Like many of us, she couldn’t remember all the different user names and passwords she’d used in different places, so she wrote them down. Now I was getting somewhere.

  First, I logged into her cell phone account. I needed to see if she was using her phone. Just because she wasn’t answering or calling Patti, didn’t mean she wasn’t calling anyone. She could be mad at Patti for some reason. Or Patti could be lying to me. She’d given me Agnes’ cell number, but I knew even that could be a fake. She wouldn’t be the first client to pretend to be open and helpful, but lie through her teeth.

  However, the cell phone company records immediately accepted that number as her account. And their records agreed with Patti. Agnes hadn’t used that phone since Friday evening. No activity at all since then. I stared at the screen and swallowed hard. A tight knot formed in my midriff.

  Patti was right. Something was wrong. Of course, Agnes could have lost the phone or something. But if so, wouldn’t she have immediately called the company and reported it? And bought another phone somewhere and activated it through her phone provider? Everyone knows how to do that, nowadays. And every department or big box store in every town sells cell phones. She could have easily bought a replacement no matter where she was.

  I moved on to her bank account, using the numbers Patti had gleaned from her statements and accessed them with her passwords. No activity there, either. No large sums withdrawn within the past few weeks to indicate she was doing anything unusual, either. A couple of bills had come in today, from her electric and cable companies, but they appeared to be regularly scheduled payments. No purchases at a store, restaurant or hotel, as I’d expect to find if she was traveling somewhere.

  Same with her credit cards. No activity except a payment which had to have been mailed several days earlier to have been posted today. No gas purchases, either. Yet her credit card bills from the past months had shown regular gas purchases, so she normally did charge gas.

  I sighed, wishing I dared confront Sheriff Ben with this info. But I wasn’t really supposed to be accessing these accounts, so he wouldn’t be pleased to hear I was doing it. Ben and I got along pretty well, and he liked to think he was my protector. But he also didn’t approve of me being a private investigator. And he was a stickler for honesty and doing the right thing, so I didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d get my license revoked if he had a good excuse.

  He’d justify doing that as it being for my own good, to get me to use my college degree for something safer and with a regular paycheck. He had come right out and told me so, many times.

  I sighed and debated what to do with this new info.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, I rolled out of bed around seven, showered and dressed, started the coffee brewing and then took Scamp for our morning run along the lake. It had rained during the night and the air smelled delightfully fresh and earthy. Scamp splashed through puddles, enjoying being outdoors. We went back inside and I filled his food and water bowls. I drank my coffee and downed a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Then, deciding I couldn’t put it off any longer, I called Patti. Her hello sounded sleepy, but what the heck. If I had to get up, so could she.

  “I have some news,” I told her. “There’s been no phone, bank or credit card activity on Agnes’ accounts, Patti. Unless she’s using cash for everything, I think you’re right to be worried.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to tell the sheriff that and see if he’ll file a missing persons report now.”

  “Okay. But don’t tell him I found that info for you, will you?” I said, my stomach churning. Ben would probably guess I’d gotten it for her, but I figured he wouldn’t do anything about it without proof.

  “Okay,” she promised. “I talked to Agnes’ lawyer last night. He doesn’t seem concerned.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “He didn’t really say,” Patti said. “But he said I was over reacting.”

  Next I called my friend, Marion Sanderson, who owns the dress shop in Landers and asked her to meet me for coffee. She’s lived here all her life and knows everyone and hears everything. Women evidently like to talk while they’re shopping. She and I have coffee or lunch often, so no one would think it unusual to see us sitting at the Flame Restaurant, with our heads together, chatting away.

  The Flame is right on the corner of main street in Landers, a large building with apartments above. A coffee shop with booths fills one end, divided by the kitchen area and restrooms, then a large dining room. Marion and I usually pick a far table in the dining room for a little privacy. A few local gossips frequent the coffee shop. They sit there by the hour, pretending to read the paper but are really listening to what all the locals are saying as they meet for their daily coffee breaks. Ironically, I hate local politics and gossip. I say ironically, because as a PI, people often call my business snooping into others’ affairs. And that’s true. But I don’t indiscriminately pass the info on for the fun of it. I only give it to my client, unless I’m legally obligated to also tell the sheriff. And sometimes I wait until he asks. If he guesses I might know and asks.

  Now, as I hurried down the sidewalk to meet Marion, I saw police cars from both Minnesota and Wisconsin parked outside the Flame. The officers often meet there in the coffee shop, to confer face to face about things they don’t want to discuss over their radios or phones.

  As I walked into the Flame, I saw the sheriff and a couple of deputies sitting in a back booth. My stomach clenched in worry. I avoided eye contact and hurried into the dining room. Marion sat at our usual table
, eating a large frosted cinnamon roll. The scent of fresh baked bread made my mouth water, so when our waitress arrived, I ordered one.

  As I ate, I pumped Marion about what she knew about Agnes, but learned almost nothing new. “She doesn’t buy much from me,” Marion said. “She told me once that most of my selection had too youthful a look for her. I think she buys most of her stuff at the malls in the Twin Cities. I can say one thing, she pays a pretty penny for it. I haven’t seen her wear anything cheap, yet.”

  “Oh? I thought someone told me she dressed quite plainly, in simple clothes.”

  Marion grinned at me. “You don’t know much about expensive clothes, do you?”

  I shrugged. “No, can’t say that I do. I haven’t ever had enough money to check them out.”

  “Many very expensive things look simple. But it’s all in the cut and fabric. Perfect fit and all that. Trust me, Lacey.”

  “Oh, I do. And that reminds me, I don’t have a thing to wear to the Chamber dinner tonight.” I finished off the roll and sipped my coffee. The waitress brought our bills, laid them on the table and disappeared again.

  “Oh, you’re going? I mean, you often don’t show up at those.”

  I nodded. “I know, but Nora’s speaking and asked me to be there. And I just got a retainer, so have some extra money for a change. What have you got in your shop that will do?”

  Marion laughed. “I’m sure we can find one for you. Come on.”

  I picked up my purse and turned to leave, then gasped as I looked through the large windows. “Oh, look. Something must have happened.”

  We watched as all the officers ran down the sidewalk outside the Flame’s windows and got into their cars. Then, sirens blaring, they raced off through the red stoplight at the corner and onto Highway Eight. Traffic halted in response to the sirens, then gradually followed the police vehicles as they disappeared up the hill and around the curve out of sight.

  I itched to follow to see what was happening, but didn’t dare. They didn’t appreciate gawkers. And chances were, I wouldn’t know the people involved anyway. So much of our traffic was people from the Metro area, just passing through our little towns on the way to the Indian casino or to their cabins on one of the Wisconsin lakes.

  So I followed Marion down the street to her dress shop. The dress she’d had in mind for me was a lovely blue creation that looked amazing on me. I swirled around in front of her full-length mirror, admiring it. “But it’s over my budget,” I said with a sad sigh.

  Of course, Marion pooh-poohed that notion. “Your clothing budget is always miniscule,” she commented. “You can’t always live in those jeans and blouses you usually wear. It’s not very businesslike, you know.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Neither is this dress!”

  “I know. We don’t wear business suits to our Chamber dinner meetings. They’re dress-up affairs. Besides, it looks very nice on you. Wait until Paul sees you in it. He’ll definitely come home more often.” She cast me a sly look.

  “True. Let me try on a couple other less expensive ones,” I said, heading back to the changing booth.

  But after trying on several other outfits, I had to agree with Marion. The blue one was worth it. I could just imagine Paul’s eyes lighting up when he saw me in it. So I bought it.

  I’d just left her shop and locked the dress bag in the trunk of my car when my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was Patti. I swiped my finger across the screen and answered. “Hi, Patti. What’s up?”

  “Lacey,” she wailed at me. “Can you come? They found Aunt Agnes. She’s dead!”

  My heart pounded in dismay. “Dead? Oh, Patti, I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you okay? What happened? Where was she?”

  “She was in her car in Chisago Lake. They’re pulling the car out now.”

  Oh. So that’s what all the sirens had been about. I strode around to the driver’s door of my car and slid behind the wheel. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on Highway Eight, by Chisago Lake. You’ll see my car.”

  “I’m on my way.” I hung up, trying to calm myself. I swung into traffic, turned around at the end of the block and sped down the highway. Why had Agnes driven into the lake? Had she had a car accident? If so, why had no one reported it? Had it just happened or had she been there since Patti had last heard from her on Friday? If not, where had she been for the past three day without contacting anyone or spending any money?

  I tried to calm my racing mind as I sped down the highway. I’d soon have some answers.

  ***

  When I arrived at the lake fifteen minutes later, cars were lined up along the highway. I managed to work my way to a parking spot near where Patti stood, waving at me. I climbed out and went over to her. Tears streamed down Patti’s cheeks. I hugged her in sympathy and asked, “Are they sure it’s her?”

  Patti nodded, wiping her eyes and smearing her mascara even more than it had been. She didn’t seem to notice, just twisted the tissues in her fingers and wiped her eyes again. “Yes, I identified her when they brought her out. They already took her to the hospital for an autopsy. Or wherever they do it.”

  I shuddered. “I suppose they have to do that.”

  Patti’s tear stained face scrunched into more weeping and she dug into a pocket looking for more tissues. “Yes, the…sheriff said they have to do that. I don’t like it, but…what can I do?”

  I handed her some fresh tissues and gave her another tentative hug. I hardly knew her, but felt uncomfortable with her grief. She immediately hid her face against my shoulder, dipping her head down. It was an awkward bend, since she’s quite a bit taller than I am.

  After a few minutes, she sniffed and tried a small smile, saying, “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say. She certainly seemed genuinely upset. Had I been wrong to mistrust her?

  The tow truck had now managed to get Agnes’ new red Acura out of the lake. Officers were taking pictures from every angle. Water gushed from the open driver’s door where they’d evidently gotten her body out.

  They pulled it a short distance, then stopped and changed the way they’d hooked the car up to the tow truck, secured it with chains and then the tow truck hauled it away. Several officers climbed into police cars and followed.

  Deputy Tom strode up to his car and stopped to frown at me. “What the hell are you doing here, Lacey? This ain’t a circus sideshow.”

  I merely raised an eyebrow at him, to let him know I couldn’t care less about his opinion of my actions.

  Patti squirmed beside me. “Should we leave now?”

  “In just a minute. I want to talk to Ben.”

  Sheriff Ben ambled up the shoreline a minute later. He, too, frowned at me. “Lacey, this is my case, now. You need to stay out of it.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff. It was my case before it was yours, and I need to see it through. Got any ideas on what happened?”

  He eyed Patti, hesitated, and then shook his head. “I need to wait for the autopsy results before I can tell you anything. But I want you to stop by my office in the morning, Lacey.”

  “Oh? Why?” I asked, my stomach churning. He didn’t sound happy with me.

  “I want a report on everything you knew about this right from the beginning.” He turned to Patti. “And you, too. I want to know how you knew something was wrong.”

  Patti snapped at him, “If you’d taken me seriously when I came to see you the first time, Agnes might not be dead!”

  Sheriff Ben raised an eyebrow and rubbed the side of his crooked nose with a long finger. He regarded her in silence for a long minute. “Just how do you figure I could have prevented her from driving into the lake?”

  Patti flushed and shifted her feet. “Well, I…I guess you couldn’t do that,” she murmured. “But if you’d started looking for her sooner…”

  “It only takes a few minutes to drown. Not likely we could have found her in time unless someone saw her go into the lake a
nd immediately went in after her.”

  “I suppose,” she said, swallowing hard.

  “Follow me to my office, Patti. Alone,” he added to me, giving me a hard look. “Oh, and Agnes’ house is off limits until we go through it for any evidence of what led to this.”

  “What? How could her house tell you anything about a car accident?” Patti gasped.

  Ben eyed her. “I’m not so sure it was an accident.”

  Chapter 4

  As the sheriff strode on up the road to his car, the local reporter and gossip columnist, Joyce Baxter, slammed her car door and waddled her large frame toward us. Waving her arms, she yelled, “Yoohoo, Sheriff Ben, wait up a minute.”

  Ben groaned and turned to face Joyce.

  I hurried Patti toward our cars. “Let’s get out of here before she catches us. Let Ben deal with the press. Call me after you talk to the sheriff.” I grimaced, remembering the dinner. “I have to go to a Chamber dinner tonight, so I’ll have my phone off for a while, though.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and we got in our cars and drove off.

  I knew Joyce would pump me later, but I would play dumb. I knew from past experience she couldn’t be trusted to print the truth or to not print something confidential.

  ***

  I went back to my office, wondering whether this was the end of my case with Patti or not. Patti had, after all, hired me to find her aunt, who was now found. I’d have to wait for Patti to contact me to let me know if she wanted me to do anything further.

  But Ben’s comment on searching Agnes’ house gave me goose-bumps. Was her death not an accident? Why hadn’t Agnes managed to get out of her car before going in the lake? When had the accident happened, anyway? That road was fairly busy. You’d think someone would have noticed her going off the road there.