Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel)

by Lynn Bohart

  “A gouge that could have been caused by a vase being smashed on the floor?” Marion speculated.

  “Exactly. The gouge in the floor wasn’t there before. I couldn’t prove it, but I’m positive it wasn’t. Diane had just had her floors refinished.”

  Marion noted the information on the board, and then said, “This is pretty incredible.” With her long fingers wrapped around the wineglass, she slowly sank onto the arm of her chair.

  “I wasn’t kidding this afternoon.”

  “I know. I guess I just didn’t know how much information you actually had.”

  “You still want to help?”

  The look on Marion’s face betrayed her doubts. This was no longer a lark − two friends playacting at being investigators. A long moment stretched between them until Marion made a decision.

  “Let’s keep going. What does Pauline Bates have to do with all of this?”

  The bushes near the window scraped against the glass making both women look up.

  “There’s a wind coming up,” Lee said, standing up and crossing to the window.

  She pulled the curtain aside and gazed out at the clear night. The moon shone brightly across the lawn and sounds of music drifted from across the street where a number of cars were parked. She felt relieved when she saw only a VW bus, a brown pickup truck, and a beat-up old station wagon. She frowned at the brown pickup, realizing she’d seen one just like it several times over the past few days. She paused a moment, trying to remember if she knew anyone who drove one. Finally, she shrugged and let the drapes close. At least the tan sedan was gone.

  “Patrick and I went to the Bates’ party the other night,” she said, remembering Marion’s question about Pauline Bates.

  “Fortunately, I was busy and couldn’t make it.” Marion poured another glass of wine.

  Lee twisted to look at her friend. “Have you ever been through that house?”

  “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” she said, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

  “I’m not sure I can say it was a pleasure. I wandered upstairs and went into what I thought was the master bedroom.”

  “I’ve heard weird stories about how Mrs. Bates’ mother disappeared. Was she stuffed and mounted on the wall?”

  “No,” Lee smiled. “But the room was filled from stem to stern with cats.”

  “Live cats?” Marion asked in astonishment.

  “No. Figurines, stuffed animals, prints, enameled boxes, pillows. You name it. Some of the things were obviously expensive collectibles, but others were cheap, trashy looking things. I was just about to leave, when Pauline was just there, right in front of me, glaring at me. Then, she ordered me to go.”

  “Okay, but I still don’t get how she’s connected to Diane’s death.”

  “She was wearing a black dress and a long black scarf. There was a woman at the graveyard just like that. I couldn’t see her well because she was watching from a distance, and she had on a black hat and sunglasses.”

  “That‘s a pretty far stretch. A lot of women have black dresses and scarves, especially for funerals.”

  “I know. You just had to be there. I have a very strong feeling she was at the cemetery and that she’s involved in this somehow.”

  “Well, I know I shouldn’t be editing what we put on the board, but I think we need more than that to go on where Pauline is concerned.”

  Lee returned to the sofa, pulling her legs up underneath her. “She’s just so weird. She actually makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.”

  Marion offered more wine to Lee. Lee waved her away.

  “I did make a few phone calls today,” Marion began. “I don’t know that I learned anything of value. Certainly nothing that would connect her to Diane.”

  “How about Bud Maddox?”

  “No,” she confirmed. “Pauline has lived at home forever. She’s never worked until recently. She graduated with a degree in economics, like her dad, but never held a job in the field. No one’s ever seen her out on a date. She doesn’t have any friends that she’s seen with regularly. However, I found out two significant things. She volunteers one day a week at the blood bank.”

  Lee sat up. “The blood bank? So, she would have access to syringes.”

  “Well, I suppose.” Marion looked doubtful again. “She also just took a job at the University and is working in the library.”

  Something in Lee’s mind clicked. “Wait a minute. Who holds the University’s occupational health contract?”

  Marion looked confused. “I have no idea.”

  “I’ll bet Twin Rivers does!” Lee announced with jubilation.

  “I don’t get it.”

  Lee was sitting forward now. “Don’t you see? You guys all have to have drug tests before going to work, don’t you?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I’ve worked there for twenty years. They didn’t give drug tests back then. I’ve never had one.”

  “Well, I bet new employees do. And they’d come to our hospital, our lab, for the test.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  Lee was up at the board now. She took the pen and began writing as she talked. “Bud Maddox is a lab technician.” She wrote this under the heading of Facts and added Pauline Bates - drug test? Then she drew an arrow from the Suspicion column to the Research column. “I’ll need to check this out.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a slim connection? So what if she had her blood drawn by Bud Maddox?”

  “Maybe they hit it off.”

  Marion nearly choked on a mouthful of popcorn. “You’ve got to be kidding. You met her. She’d be lucky to hit it off with Andy Warhol.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “My point exactly,” Marion smiled grimly.

  “There’s got to be something.” Lee’s eyes lit up. “What about the cat connection?”

  “What cat connection?”

  “Pauline Bates is obviously obsessed with cats. Diane had a cat.”

  Marion rolled her eyes, “No, Lee. I don’t think there is a ‘cat connection.’ After all, what could the connection be? They both had the same vet? Or, that Pauline is an animal activist and thought Diane was abusing her cat by giving it injections with the wrong size needles? I think we need to look for something else. Think. Give me some more.”

  Lee thought for a moment. “I told you I went to Medford. That’s where Bud used to work. I found out he was asked to leave.”

  “He was fired?”

  “Not fired, but something happened that made him leave under pressure. I couldn’t find out the exact reason, but I did find out that it had something to do with a breach of confidentiality.”

  Marion wrinkled her forehead. “What could that mean?”

  “It would have had to have been patient-related. But if he’s doing something illegal now, maybe he was suspected of the same thing down there.”

  “Like doctoring the results of drug testing.” Marion was catching on.

  “Yes, just like that. There have been a few incidents recently where our night security has found secure rooms left open and computers on.” Lee turned and scribbled all of this onto the board. “And there’s one more thing. I’m not even sure if I should add this, but…”

  “Go on. We need to get it all out if we’re going to analyze it.”

  “I’ve received some very weird messages.”

  “Messages? From the birds?” Marion was serious.

  “No. Through the mail. Two were written in verse, and one was the picture of a refrigerator. Each message was signed only ‘a friend.’“ She paused and leveled a solemn look at her friend. “I was up in the lab today and was told that one of the technicians was killed yesterday by a hit and run accident. Turns out she liked to write verse, and the refrigerator where they keep the lab samples was right next to her station.”

  Marion stopped in the middle of a sip of wine. Lee continued.

  “It’s certainly not conclusive, but I’d bet my last dollar
there’s a link.” Lee sat in a wing-backed chair next to the easel. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, Marion. What if Bud was doing something illegal and Diane found out about it? He might have killed her to keep her quiet. And somehow he linked up with Pauline Bates.”

  Marion’s face appeared pale in the low light. She sat immobile in her chair, a full glass of wine held limply in one hand.

  “It could have happened that way,” Lee went on. “Perhaps this technician saw or heard something, and was trying to tell me about it.”

  “But why?” Marion asked. “Why you?”

  Lee shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I was her boss. Because people knew we were close friends.”

  Marion finally became animated again. “I don’t know, Lee. It’s just too fantastic. And how does Pauline Bates fit into it? Just because she’s weird doesn’t mean she murdered someone.”

  “I know,” Lee answered in exasperation. “There are obviously a lot of holes to fill, but I feel like there’s a picture being painted here.”

  “Painted by numbers, maybe,” Marion offered cynically.

  “Well, I may be painting by numbers, but I’m positive Bud Maddox had something to do with Diane’s death. I’d stake my life on that! I had an encounter with him up in the lab today, and he practically admitted he was the one who broke into my house.”

  “You’re kidding? Lee, you need to be more careful.”

  The phone rang, making them both jump. Lee got up to answer it as the sound of a truck engine flared outside and then faded away. She listened as a male voice spoke on the other end.

  “Um, yes,” she mumbled into the phone. “Well, okay. Fine. I’ll be there. Thanks.”

  “What was that?”

  “We have a photo shoot later tonight at one of the lumber mills. My public relations director can’t be there, so I have to go. They just changed the location.”

  Marion looked at her watch. “What time is the shoot?”

  “Eleven o’clock.”

  “Okay, we’ve got some time. Keep going. What else do you have?”

  Lee explained about Vern Mathews, the life insurance, and the family’s financial trouble. She finished by profiling Mathews’ violent personality and abusiveness towards Carey.

  “The man is a brute,” Lee finished. “If he can hit his wife, maybe he could kill his sister-in-law. Maybe Diane knew about the abuse and confronted him. Maybe they got into an argument and her death was an accident of some kind.”

  Marion crossed her legs. “That would change things, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe, but I have one more piece of information about Mathews.” She grabbed the note Marion had taken. “Jenny’s phone call earlier was to tell me that Vern wasn’t where he was supposed to be the night Diane died.”

  Marion looked suitably surprised. “Where was he?”

  “He was supposed to be bowling, but he didn’t show up, and he wasn’t home. Carey was alone when the police called her.”

  “How much was the life insurance policy?”

  “Only $25,000, but they’re broke.”

  “I suppose crimes have been committed for much less.” Marion stood up and wrote all of this on the board.

  “I think you should add one more thing. He came to the condo today when I was there.”

  “You were alone with him?”

  “He kicked me out and wasn’t too nice about it. But the question is, what was he doing there in the middle of the afternoon on a workday?”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a drug rep for some pharmaceutical compa…” Lee stopped in the middle of her sentence, her facial muscles freezing into place. “Oh, my God! He represents a drug company. I never thought of that. He’d have access to the insulin and probably the syringes.”

  Marion looked like she’d just swallowed a spider. “I think it’s time you told somebody about all of this, Lee.”

  Lee recovered from her surprise. “I don’t have anything concrete, except maybe how the suicide note was printed and the insulin. Nothing that points directly to one person.”

  “What about the suicide note?”

  “Jenny is positive it wasn’t printed on Diane’s printer. Something to do with how the paper holds the ink.”

  Lee went to the hallway and grabbed the suicide note off the hall table and presented it to Marion who read it quietly.

  “It’s the original note,” Lee said. “You can see right here that there is an apostrophe missing, and she misspelled the word ‘a lot’. A sloppy job by anyone’s standard, but especially if you’re a perfectionist like Diane.”

  “I agree,” Marion said. “So someone printed this note on another printer and brought it with them.” Marion looked up at Lee, adding, “Which means her death couldn’t have been an accident.”

  “Right,” Lee whispered.

  The true gravity of what they had put together settled in the room like a fog. There was only the sound of the clock ticking slowly in the background.

  Finally, Marion spoke. “I don’t mind telling you this frightens me.”

  “I know,” Lee said in a small voice. “Now that we’ve put it all together, it looks different than when it was just swimming around in my head.”

  Marion put the pen down. “I think you need to call the police. Tonight.”

  “I have to get ready to go to the sawmill.”

  “Seriously? After all of this, you’re going to a sawmill tonight?”

  Lee grimaced. “I have to work. There will be several other people there. I’ll be fine.”

  Marion looked at her watch and sighed. “Okay, look, I have an early class in the morning, but we need to talk tomorrow. No ifs, ands, or buts. Tomorrow, you call the police.”

  “Deal. Thanks, Marion,” Lee said as she stood up.

  Marion held her hand up to wave off the show of gratitude.

  “Don’t thank me. I think I’m sufficiently scared shitless for one evening, and you should be, too.” She stepped in close to her friend. “Not all of this is correct, but something’s going on and you need to be careful.” She looked Lee squarely in the eyes as she stepped around her to the closet. “I’ll do a little more checking on Pauline Bates and the occupational health thing, but, really, Lee, it’s time to bring in the police.”

  Lee leaned against the rear of the sofa. “I just hope they don’t laugh me out of the precinct. Alan is my friend. I don’t want him embarrassed.”

  “I think you can afford to take that chance. I’ll leave the work in progress,” she gestured toward the easel board. “And I’ll give you a call tomorrow. We’ll talk about how we can take this to the authorities.”

  “Okay,” Lee acquiesced. “With you by my side, how can I go wrong?”

  Marion only grunted and left. Lee looked back at the board. She didn’t think they had nearly enough to complete the full picture, but she felt in her gut the board held at least one piece of information that could break the case open. Now if she could only figure out what it was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Lee arrived at the lumber mill feeling oddly energized by the thought she might finally be close to the end of her journey. She would call the police the next day, meet with Sergeant Davis, and hopefully impart enough information to force him to launch a real investigation. And then her part in all of this could be done.

  The small security building off Main Street was bathed in the light from large floodlights mounted to the top of two telephone poles. The huge lumber mill stood in the background, silhouetted against the night sky as if someone had painted it into the backdrop of a stage play. Tiny glow worms of light peeked out from various parts of the sprawling complex, and steam spewed from smoke stacks on the north side of the property. A string of railroad cars sat idle along a track framing a large empty parking lot that lay just past the gate.

  Another guard sat at a small desk inside the hut. Lee rolled down her window letting in a cool breeze and tooted her horn. The g
uard poked his head out the door.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m with Twin Rivers Hospital. We’re doing a photo shoot here tonight.”

  He stepped to the car window, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “Right. You’ll find your friends at the mill office on the south end of the yard.”

  “Actually, I believe plans have changed and we’re going to the North Mill.”

  “The North Mill?”

  He was young, overweight, with pudgy eyes that narrowed in confusion.

  “Yes, I understand that mill isn’t running tonight. Can you tell me how to get there from here?”

  “Um…sure…let me grab a map.” He returned to the guardhouse and grabbed a sheet of paper off his desk. When he returned, he rested the map on her open window.

  “Here it is,” he pointed. “You can drive around this building and head straight back. None of the log loaders are running tonight. Follow that yellow line past the log decks,” he said pointing to a yellow stripe painted down the center of the pavement. “Turn left at the shavings bin, and you should be all right. Your photographer is already here, but I sent him to the other mill. You’ll have to pick him up there. You should see his truck as you pass by.”

  His hand hesitated over the map as if he had something else to say, but he only smiled before going back inside. A moment later, the barrier lifted, and Lee drove through, eyeing the yellow stripe illumined by her headlights.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” she muttered, peering out the front window.

  She drove slowly and followed the yellow line. As soon as she left the security building, she was engulfed in darkness. Large buildings waited quietly in the shadows along the route. Lights appeared and disappeared in one building, as if a ghost walked from room to room with a lit candle. Stacks of lumber rose out of the darkness and just as quickly disappeared again. They were replaced by another building with the word “Laminating Plant” painted across the door.

  Lee continued to follow the yellow line like the track-powered cars in an amusement park ride. Finally, she slowed to a stop in front of a building where lights blazed, and the sound of heavy machinery reached through the closed windows. Several cars were parked outside. This had to be the South Mill, but where was Rupert’s truck? A hundred feet beyond was a tall diamond-shaped apparatus that was labeled on the map as the ‘Shavings Bin.’ She drove up to it and turned. Moments later, she pulled up to the North Mill.