Lie Catchers

by Anderson, Rolynn

  “Can’t you bug Tuck’s phones and his computers?”

  “I wish. We don’t have enough evidence for probable cause to secretly tap his phone. Here in Alaska we need your permission to put listening devices on anything you own.”

  “Why tap my phones, Parker?”

  “It gives me one more measure of security. Barber’s madder than hell at you right now. Who knows what he’ll do? I mean, my dad is a tough old bird, but Barber could overpower him easily. You and I need to stay in contact, constantly.” Blowing out a breath, Parker said, “Ever since Ivor found taps in Tilly’s place, I’ve been on edge. I’m going to put the electronics in myself and keep that information between the two of us.”

  “Not tell your boss, or Nilson. Not even Ivor?”

  “No one. You’ve seen how information zips through Petersburg. Let’s keep the taps to ourselves.”

  “But, Ivor—”

  Parker put his finger to Liv’s lips. “I want him to remain objective through all this, especially because he’s got a loose tie to Mallen. Plus, he’s barely keeping a lid on this town since the big brawl down at the marina. His jail is full and he’s got outstanding warrants on two fishermen.”

  “I know,” she said, taking his hand. “Poor guy.” She straightened her back. “So Tuck is already upset about how I’ve dated his movements. Do I make up some more detail on him and get the word around town I’m sharing dates and times with you?”

  “No, that’s too dangerous. Let’s figure out an angle with a Sing Lee article that might spook him.”

  “Couldn’t we at least put out the word I’m coming up with new revelations all the time, given my gift is something I’m just beginning to work with?”

  “I guess so.”

  “More people will want to sue me.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know we have another way to flush out the guilty parties, Liv.”

  Smiling, Liv said, “I’m glad to help.”

  He lifted his coffee cup for a long, last swallow. “Final chance. You could leave on a jet plane today.”

  “No way. You need me. And you’re the one who let my monster out of the closet.”

  Parker walked toward her, smiling. “Bittersweet.” He touched her shoulder, the feather-light sweater a contrast to the strength he saw in Liv. “I wish things had turned out differently with us.”

  “I never met a man who liked my brain,” she said, her eyes watering.

  “Until you met me,” he said, proud of the way he’d accepted Liv’s unusual skill.

  She hesitated, her hands resting on the computer. Then, as if she were speaking to the screen instead of Parker, she said, “At least they allowed themselves to love me. You won’t.”

  ****

  Petersburg, 1932

  Motives: Cultural Conflict, Greed, Revenge

  (The Murder of Sing Lee: A Retrospective

  by Liv Hanson)

  Gus rubbed his eyes after hours of reviewing accounts from Sing Lee’s Country Store, concluding his trouble finding townspeople who had cultural conflicts with Sing Lee was no easier than pinpointing suspects motivated by greed. If money was the objective in the killing of the old man, who might be guilty? The problem was, the sale of liquor, food, household goods and hardware presented a myriad of ways to skim money. Taking kickbacks, doctoring the inventory, and pocketing cash were typical of scammers. What Gus couldn’t figure out was who was making more money than they should be making. Was Sing Lee hauling in extra dollars and sending them to China? How was he to track that? Could it be Alf Forden, his store manager, was in on a con with the vendors? If so, where would Forden be hiding his windfalls?

  Another complication: with the easy access the public had to Sing Lee’s back rooms, Gus was sure merchandize disappeared daily. How would he sort out petty theft from organized crime?

  “How is this for a start, Parker? I’m trying to stay true to the history, while introducing money as a motive.”

  Parker and Ivor joined Liv at the desk in her bedroom. Both read her words, silently.

  “Good beginning,” Parker said. “You tied in your last article about cultural conflict with the new concept of greed.”

  Ivor rested his hand on Liv’s shoulder. “Your words should unnerve Tuck, Susanna Halley and Bob Halley, who are hurting for cash. We know where Bob’s money has gone…all to Susanna. And, of course, she’s spent every dime in hot pursuit of a lunch ticket.”

  “Tuck’s harder to figure,” said Parker. “Except for his ritzy office, he hasn’t sunk a penny into Lito’s Landing. Our search proves he isn’t stashing his profits in a local bank or investment fund. Truth is, we still don’t have proof he skimmed money from the cannery.”

  “Mallen?” offered Liv.

  Ivor’s hand tightened on Liv’s shoulder. “What about her?”

  “She grumbles about money; all she lost in the divorce and the staggering overhead in running a B&B.”

  “Hell, if we put everyone who complained about not having money on our murder board, we’d have every citizen on it, including me,” said Ivor, as he paced near the bedroom doorway.

  “Stand on my right, Ivor.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’d have you fix this chair if we had time. It releases when I twist to the left. So stay on my right, will you?” Liv turned to Parker. “You still have doubts about Mallen?”

  Parker addressed Ivor. “Mallen taking up with Ev Olson surprised you, didn’t it?”

  “Mallen does what she wants to.”

  “Money and sex are powerful motivators.”

  Ivor stilled. “I should have said something to Mallen.”

  “About what?”

  “About the way I feel about her.”

  Liv took Ivor’s hand. “It’s not too late.”

  Ivor rolled his eyes. “For me and women, it’s always too late.”

  With a wince, Liv said, “What a sad pair we are.” She turned to stare at the computer. “What do I say next to raise the guilty quotient?”

  Parker paced next to her bed. “Let me look into the ways folks hid money in 1932, so you can add a little historical flavor. I think we should widen our ring of guilt by going over the revenge motive, too.”

  “Let’s see.” Ivor leaned against the doorjamb. “Mallen, Susanna and Tilly competed for Ev. Revenge motive possible there. Bob Halley’s upset with Ev for knocking up Susanna. Tuck’s ticked off about whatever Ev and Tilly were up to.”

  “How do I write about that in Gus’s story?” Liv asked.

  Parker said, “I suppose you could say Alf resented Sing Lee for something the old man did. Maybe Sing Lee offended Greta or one of the other suppliers. Could Lee have barred a customer from coming to the Country Store? All the scenarios could tie into cultural conflict.”

  Nodding, Liv readied her fingers to type. “Okay. I’ll have to do a little more research on Chinese versus American culture. Since the Chinese believed in harmony, I need to focus on a couple areas where Chinese hold stubbornly to beliefs very different from Americans. Maybe I’ll talk to Jenny one more time. See if she remembers Greta talking about anyone Sing Lee rejected.”

  “Good. I’ll e-mail you the stuff about hiding money in ’32 and you do your research. Can we get this in the newspaper tomorrow?”

  “I’ll ask for another special edition.”

  “I’m off to question Mallen. Ivor, you want to join me?”

  “Can’t. Too much to do in my office. Parker, you go out the back. I’ll exit by the front. Chet’s finished downstairs, Liv. Complete the article, e-mail it to the paper and get some sleep.”

  Liv rolled up her chair to the computer, so energized by the challenge, she dismissed thoughts of the men even before they left the room.

  Someone pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hmm?” she asked, as she continued to type.

  “You’re happy doing this, aren’t you?” Parker whispered in her ear, his warm breath and the feel of his lips on her earlobe, sending a
pleasant shiver across her shoulders.

  Liv heard surprise in Parker’s voice, so she took a moment to examine her emotions. Finally, she smiled as she imagined the thrill Parker’s girlfriend must have felt sneaking secrets from Al Qaeda. “I am. So was Bern.”

  Without a word, Parker left the room.

  An hour later, Liv shouted, “Done!” and pushed ‘send’ on her computer. In an instant, her Sing Lee article was at the Petersburg Pilot, soon to be pasted into a special morning edition of the newspaper, each issue going out in e-mail format to every subscriber in town. Just like Bernadette, Liv would ensnare the guilty.

  The person who had shot her and killed Ev and Tilly would be brought to justice. Finally.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parker stalled at the breakfast table after sending Nilson over to the Municipal building, dawdling over a second cup of coffee until Mallen left for her morning jog. Jenny loaded the dishwasher in the kitchen, making more racket than usual, as if she knew Parker was waiting to talk to her and resented the intrusion. For a moment, Parker wished he were back in Fresno, staring at emotionless data on a computer screen. Jenny’s expression was going to be anything but neutral when she addressed Parker’s questions.

  The latest edition of the Petersburg Pilot lay open on his left; a half-eaten roll and a mug of coffee on his right. He was ready.

  Jenny shuffled to the table, coffee pot in hand. “More?”

  “Sit. Please.”

  She plunked the coffee pot on a hotplate and sank into the chair opposite him, eyes averted. The juniper green sweater she wore set off bright eyes that belied her age. She seemed steeled to what would come next, a posture he’d noticed before.

  “I hate this part of my job, Jenny. The confrontation. You are one of my favorite people in this town because we’ve had a chance to get to know each other. Yet I have the sense you’re holding back.”

  “Façade. I told you Petersburg comes with it. Me, too.” She focused on the window.

  He spread his hand on the article. “Liv governs dates and events; I’ve learned I’m better at guilt-detecting.”

  Jenny eyed the e-mail copy of Liv’s column. “I’m reading the series. Liv has a vivid imagination.”

  With a headshake, he said, “I should have listened more closely to you, to Harriet and to Liv when I first came to town. You all showed me the way, but I didn’t pay attention. A little like Gus,” Parker said, pointing to the article. “Taken in.”

  She stiffened, eyes snapping. “We do what we have to.”

  “Women run this town.”

  “The best we can.”

  “You stay out of each other’s business.”

  A nod.

  “You don’t give answers until you’re asked the question.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “And you endure pain with little complaint. Except for the occasional ‘uff da.’” He smiled, but she didn’t.

  “You counseled me to let go of the guilt I have over the death of my old girlfriend.”

  She nodded, staring at the newspaper, but the finger in the handle of her mug shook.

  “Yet you keep your own guilt bottled up inside.”

  Jenny set her hands on the table, palms down and gazed upon them, puzzled, seeming surprised the swollen, veined appendages were hers.

  “She made terrible choices.”

  “You can’t protect her, Jenny.”

  She fastened her eyes on his, quizzical. “Greta?”

  “Mallen.”

  Frowning, Jenny asked, “Mallen?”

  Parker slid Liv’s chart from under the column and pointed to a row. “On October 28th, you vouched for your granddaughter’s presence in your hotel room.”

  “I did. We went to bed early after we’d done a lot of shopping for the B&B. We were tired.”

  “You took a sleeping pill.”

  Jenny blinked. “I usually do.”

  “You slept in separate bedrooms.”

  “Yes.”

  “Mallen could have left the hotel and returned without your knowing.”

  “Absolutely not. I would have known.”

  “I’ve made noise coming in late at night on three occasions, Jenny. You never woke up. I’ve listened to the alarm that alerts you in the morning. Sometimes you don’t hear it and Mallen has to rouse you.”

  She pointed to her ears. “Old.”

  “You’ve said you’re losing weight. The dose of the sleeping pill might be too strong for you.”

  When she began to protest, Parker said, “Mallen met with Everett that night. She returned to the hotel, but he didn’t.”

  With her hand over her mouth, Jenny said, “No.”

  “I think so. And I believe you’re aware she’s guilty.”

  “Mallen couldn’t...you have no proof.”

  “In the beginning I thought she was protecting you, but now I surmise she’s hiding her own guilt. I’m talking to you first, Jenny. She’s next, after she returns from her run.”

  “She’s unhappy,” Jenny said, tears welling in her eyes. “But she wouldn’t kill a man.”

  Parker patted her hand. “Revenge and rage have poisonous effects.” He cleared his throat. “And now I have to see the guns you’ve got in this house, Jenny. Right now, before Mallen returns.”

  ****

  “No more subtlety, folks. All our next moves will be transparent and brutally frank.” Parker waved his fork, a quarter of a Swedish meatball stuck to its prongs. “We’ve gotten nowhere with the usual strategies.”

  “Accusing Mallen of killing Everett isn’t ‘frank,’ it’s fucking stupid.” Liv’s brother glared at Parker, but when their mother tut-tutted, he turned to her. “Sorry, Mom. I’m ticked.” Eyes back on Parker. “You sneaked over to my Mom’s for dinner. How transparent is that?”

  Parker regarded Liv with a warm smile. “I still think Liv is safer if the town thinks we’re aren’t working together. I made sure no one knows I’m here, including Nilson.” He turned to Harriet. “These are delicious. My compliments to the chef.” Dredging his meatball in a pool of gravy on his plate, Parker popped the meat in his mouth.

  Something about the fire in his eyes and a new ring of confidence in his voice created a pulsing and a pulling in Liv’s abdomen. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, and because she was so curious about his behavior and relished his bold attention, she watched him closely.

  Suddenly it was quiet at the dinner table. Liv took her eyes off Parker to see her mother and Chet grinning. Ivor glanced alternately at Parker and Liv, made a face and said, “Shit. Oops. Sorry again, Mom.”

  Harriet laughed. “A little hot in here, isn’t it? I’ll get some ice cream for dessert. Cool things down.”

  Rising along with Harriet, Chet said, “I’ll help.”

  Parker smoothed the tablecloth as he chewed. “Look, Ivor. Liv’s doing the heavy lifting by drawing attention to guilty people in this town and setting herself up as bait. I have to find ways to shake up the town, too. You’re fond of Mallen, so maybe it’s hard for you to see she’s hiding something. It’s my job to figure out what it is.”

  “You’re on the wrong track, Browne. Mallen didn’t kill Everett.”

  “Maybe. But by flushing out Mallen, we might scare other guilty quail out of the bushes.”

  Liv and Ivor listened while Parker explained Jenny’s deep-sleeping habits. When Chet and Harriet came in with the ice cream, Liv picked up her spoon and twirled it. “So you’ve got Mallen upset; my Sing Lee article will flush out Bob Halley, Susanna, Josh and Tuck. I’ll hit the Coffee Hüs, the grocery stores, and the Wild Asparagus Gift Store daily, letting people know new dates are coming to me like freight trains.” She turned to Ivor. “And you are?”

  “Interviewing assault victims and trying to find two perps in my fishermen brawl. Now that we know Tilly had a date rape drug and an overdose of sleeping pills in her system, we’re looking for another murderer, I think.” He sighed. “We�
��re slammed.”

  Parker held up his hand. “I’ve got Nilson helping you with Tilly’s death; he’s also following up on the money trail in the Caymans with my boss.” Parker stared at Liv and pulled out his phone.

  “What?” Liv asked.

  “My sister.”

  Chet frowned. “Pepper?”

  An eye roll. “Yeah. Pepper wants a picture of Dad with Harriet and Liv. Your sitting together reminded me of her harangue.” He held up the phone. “Smile,” he ordered, peered into the screen and said “1, 2, 3,” and snapped. Once he’d typed on the screen, he gave Liv a wry grin and said, “Done.”

  Liv laughed. “You’re a good brother.” The urge to kiss Parker was so strong at that moment she could barely stay seated. The draw of the man was irrepressible, especially when he showed reverence for his sister and father. And to her. He’d seen her strange closet and he still looked at her like she was eatable, not a freak. With his brown hair mussed and the shadow of a beard, he looked rough and tumble tonight, not smooth and classy as he usually appeared. She was drawn to him either way. But why the change in his behavior, this public show of his affection for her?

  As if to answer her question, Parker turned his attention to her, his smoldering eyes on her mouth first, then her breasts, and back up to her eyes. I want you.

  “Uff da,” Harriet said, rising. “I think we’ll need more ice cream.”

  ****

  Liv walked Parker to the back door, wishing he didn’t have to leave. His presence had the effect of an ‘on’ switch: warmth coursed through her, while a sense of well-being and feeling favored made her heart pound. She couldn’t help but stare at him, examining his features for a clue of what it was about Parker that appealed to her so much.

  “For one thing,” she said aloud, “You’ve never lied to me.”

  “Hmm?” he asked.

  “You’re the only man who hasn’t argued with me about dates and times and what you said and I said and on and on.”

  He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I know better. Your other boyfriends were stupid.”