A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

She looked up at Paul. “This is a murder warrant. For killing Max Redman. You think Del did that?”

  Paul nodded. “Yup. Him and Larry. This is a federal beef, Marly. Max was an ATF agent. ATF means Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, you know.”

  Marly stared at Paul. His winter uniform suited him, she thought. He was thin where he should have been muscular and thick where he should have been thin. The puffy winter uniform jacket hid that, and his winter hat covered his thinning hair. He looked almost handsome.

  Paul had been in the same high school class as Beanie—her father—and Del. Elaine’s father too, for that matter. This Max guy—the victim—had been in the same class as Larry and Louise. She thought back to Larry and Del talking about him on her porch and her run-in with Zeke. It was all just a bit too cozy.

  Marly squinted at Paul, trying to assess the officer’s new accent—some sort of cross between Tennessee and Utica from what she could tell. She wasn’t sure that Paul had ever been out of New York State. Must be another attempt to be cool, she decided.

  “Are you arresting Larry, too?”

  “Took care of that this mornin’,” Paul said in his strange new drawl.

  Things were looking up, Marly thought. She shifted her gaze to the other two men. “We haven’t seen Del since October twenty-seventh. He went out drinking at the Rock, met up with his dad, and we haven’t seen either of them since.”

  Agent Thomas’s hair wafted in the breeze, pushing up his comb-over like a gray sail.

  “So we’ve heard. We’ve also heard you were the last to see him.” His voice had a genuine Southern twang to Marly’s ears.

  Marly repeated her familiar tale. “No. I saw him at dinner and after that I went to the Halloween dance at the high school. He was supposed to give me a ride home from the Rock, but he was gone when I got there, so I walked home.”

  “Well now, Marly,” Paul said. “I don’t suppose you’d be knowin’ where he’s gone? No? Well, maybe your sister? Everyone knows Del was pokin’ her all these years. And she’s had his kids.”

  “Paul, what is wrong with your voice? You sound sick.”

  Paul coughed.

  “Is that true, Ms. Harris? Was your stepfather sleeping with your sister?” Agent Rockwell stared at her.

  “My name is Marlene Shaw. Del wasn’t my stepfather. Not legally. He stopped bothering Charlene.”

  The two agents shuffled their feet.

  “Oh, come on, Marly.” Paul’s voice was back to the normal Central New York twang. “We all knew about that.”

  Marly stared at Paul until he blinked. Keeping her tone low and level, she said, “My sister was twelve years old when that started. You were a cop by that time. If you knew and you were a cop, wasn’t it your duty to do something?”

  Paul backed away, his eyes down. Marly stepped forward and leaned in, not letting him off the hook. “No wonder we have such a great relationship with the police.”

  Marly turned back to the other two. “Del stopped because we complained to his family. No thanks to the cops. And those kids are not Del’s. Charlene’s married now. We don’t know where Del went.”

  “Do you mind if we look around?” Agent Thomas asked.

  “Go ahead.” Marly stood aside to let them pass.

  The FBI agents minced their way across the parking area, followed by Paul. Marly trailed behind, pulled by curiosity and the obligation to protect her mother’s house.

  An icy prickle raced up her back to her scalp and down her arms. She had prayed for someone to come take Del away for a long time and now that day had arrived. Del should be cowering in the kitchen or sitting unaware on the john. In a few minutes, he should be leaving the house, his hands cuffed behind him with an agent on either side to keep him from falling into the muck. She should be feeling a flood of relief. But it was too late.

  After the agents finished with the barn, they entered the house and wiped their shoes on the mat by the back door. Paul showed no such manners and stepped over the mat.

  “Hey,” Marly said, and mocked his fake drawl. “‘Y’all’ can wipe your feet too.”

  Paul squinted at her and his cheeks turned pink. He turned around and swiped each boot once on the mat. Marly felt her face go warm. Taunting Paul was a habit she’d picked up from Del. He had often referred to his former classmate as “Officer Runt of the Litter” or “Officer ROL,” sometimes right to Paul’s face. Time to kick bad habits.

  The agents opened every door and closet. They searched the basement and found the access to the attic crawl space. Paul stayed close behind. After ten or fifteen minutes, the three regrouped in the mudroom and studied the dirty laundry.

  “No men’s clothing in here. And no fresh mud on those boots in the corner,” one agent said. The other agent agreed with a low grunt.

  Marly escorted the agents to their car. Paul had already removed his hat and climbed into his warm cruiser.

  “Ms. Harris, did your stepfather ever talk to you about this investigation? Did he seem nervous or upset that we might be closing in?” Agent Rockwell asked.

  Marly forced herself to look him in the eye. “This is all news to me.”

  “What about Max Redman? Did you ever hear Del or his brother or anyone else in his family talk about him?”

  “Wow. No way.” She widened her eyes and hoped she looked young and clueless.

  Del should have known she wouldn’t talk. Even after all the trouble he had brought into her life, she never would have betrayed him. That was the problem with Del. If he had known her, if he had only shown faith in her loyalty, he would be alive today. Zeke too. She wouldn’t have had to save herself. She wouldn’t have this crushing weight in the middle of her chest. Del would be sitting in the back of this Lincoln or on his way out of town, ahead of the FBI.

  “Ms. Harris?”

  Marly swiveled her head toward the woods. “Why did you wait so long? Where were you three weeks ago?”

  “Excuse me? What was that?”

  Marly turned back to face the agents, her hands on her hips. “I said my name is not Harris. It’s Shaw.”

  11

  Vanessa: Friends Matter

  January 30, 2013

  Vanessa could tell that the weather had changed as soon as she woke up. The room was warmer and noises from outside were muffled.

  A quick look out the window confirmed that snow was falling in thick sheets. The local TV channel announced that it was a balmy five degrees Fahrenheit.

  On their walk to the police station, Jack laughed. “My feet don’t squeak.”

  With Chip’s assistance, they scheduled a trip to Pennsylvania the next day to visit Larry Harris in federal prison and to a New York State prison the day after to visit Greg Harris. That accomplished, they ditched Paul for the day and drove their own car south to the Springs.

  As promised, David Fardig waited for them in his house at the top of the hill. His wife and children had long gone by this hour, but he had agreed to forgo the long commute into Syracuse to meet with them.

  The heavy snow cut visibility to less than a hundred feet. The nearby barn was a mere shadowy hulk, shrouded in a veil of falling flakes. Vanessa had always been a bit claustrophobic. Enclosed by the impenetrable storm, she felt her heart rate rise.

  The tall, gracious lines of the house and its gingerbread details fascinated Vanessa. The structure was ancient by her California standards, but there were signs of recent renovation. The windows were insulated and looked expensive, and the driveway, from what could be seen, was composed of pavers. Triangle-shaped wooden teepees sheltered small trees, arranged around the yard. She thought she caught the signs of a pool and patio under the snow in back.

  David answered the door. He led Vanessa and Jack into the mudroom, a feature Vanessa now recognized as standard as a bathroom around here.

  Fortified by fresh coffee, they settled in a large family room that featured a walk-in hearth, complete with blazing fire.

  Vanessa studied David ove
r the rim of her cup. Average height, average build, mid-thirties, not homely, not cute. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, his head cocked to one side as he looked from Vanessa to Jack and back to Vanessa.

  “Too bad you weren’t here yesterday,” David said. “This view is the best, although the wind can howl. Now you can’t see very much.”

  Jack spoke first. “Mr. Fardig, as we mentioned on the phone, we’re here to conduct an investigation into the deaths of Louise and Troy Rasmussen. We’d like to ask you about them and your family’s connections to the Harris family.”

  David sat up straight in his chair and rolled his shoulders. “We don’t have any connections to the Harris crowd. In fact, only our mailbox sits in the Springs.”

  Vanessa studied David’s face. “Mr. Fardig, I want to get straight to the point. Your sister, Elaine, suffered a severe assault after she tried to figure out what happened to your father. People—Harris people—went to jail over that incident and at least one girl died as well. Now two of those people have been found dead in the Santa Cruz Mountains. From what we can tell, Louise and Troy had never left the Northeast before, and yet we found them in California. I would think you would want to make sure that your sister and your family will continue to be safe.”

  David relaxed into his chair. “Please call me David. We don’t have anything to hide. Troy and I were classmates. Can you believe that? He was a jerk even as a kid. And Laurie was in the same class as Elaine. There was one class per grade in the Charon Springs Elementary School, so we knew everybody. For me, when I got to Avalon for high school, the world opened up.”

  “What about Elaine? Did she feel the same way?”

  “Yeah. We all did. My brother, Curtis, me, and Elaine.”

  “Curtis lives in Boston, is that right?” Vanessa referred to her notes. “He’s a financial analyst? And you’re a lawyer.”

  “That’s right. Curtis is in Boston. I live here and work in Syracuse. Corporate law.”

  “And Elaine?”

  “Elaine is a high tech entrepreneur.”

  “Where does she live, David?”

  She cocked an eyebrow in Jack’s direction.

  “Is she in California?”

  David took a long sip of coffee before he answered. “Yeah, exactly. She lives in Mountain View. So does my mother.”

  Well, well. Small world. Vanessa coughed a bit and swallowed coffee.

  “Mr. Fardig—David—did your sister or your mother say anything to you in the spring or early summer of 2009 concerning Louise or Troy? Is there any chance Elaine or your mother saw them or ran into them?”

  David stood to put another log on the fire and stirred the coals with a poker.

  “David?”

  “I was just trying to recall. That was a long time ago,” he said. “I’m sure I would have remembered if they had said anything and they definitely would have been upset. They would have called the cops. There’s been too much bad blood between our families to be polite.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “That’s a no. I would have remembered.”

  “Tell us about this bad blood,” Jack said.

  David drained his cup. “My dad would always tell us just to mind our own business and not let the Harrises get to us. He had lived here his whole life without any issues. But at some point, all the Harris madness caught up to Dad and I think that’s what changed things for Elaine.”

  “Your father was killed, is that correct?”

  “That’s the assumption. His body was never found and he was eventually declared dead.”

  “Tell us about those events.”

  David pursed his lips and gazed at the ceiling, as if the story were written there. “I wasn’t living here at the time, so most of what I know comes from my mother. What I remember growing up was that Dad always figured that he was immune. He had this benign, uninteresting job at the airport, until one day Del came to him and said that they wanted his help to pick up drugs that would come in on planes. That’s what Dad told my mother. I know Del kept after him about it and Dad mentioned he might have to go to the police. He might have even said that to Del.” David pressed his palms to his eyes briefly and wiped his nose with a napkin. His voice was soft and ragged. “He went off to work one day and just—poof—disappeared on the way home.”

  “Your mother reported that,” Jack said.

  “Oh yeah. That pissed off Del and Zeke to no end but led to nothing with the police. Fucking do-nothing idiots.”

  “They were scared to come down here?”

  “Yes, and that’s not in the past tense. They still are. When Zeke and Del died, the Harrises took a blow, and the cops became a teeny bit more responsive.” David produced a grim smile. “Del had been the engine behind the Harris future. I hoped that once his successors, Vernon and Elliot, died, the whole lot would fade away for good. But it turns out Carl had ambitions.” He raised his hands, palms up in apparent surrender.

  “I gather that Del and Zeke died about the same time as Elaine ran into their buzz saw, isn’t that correct? Was there a connection?” Vanessa asked.

  David nibbled on a hangnail before he answered. “It was kind of an odd coincidence but no connection that I could see. Like I said, Curtis and I were already out of the house when that happened. I was working in New York and planned to go to law school. Curtis was in college at SUNY Buffalo. For Elaine and Mom, things were grim, Del or no Del. Mom was a registered nurse, but she had stopped working to study to become a nurse practitioner. She had to quit school to go back to work. She was terrified she wouldn’t be able to pay the property taxes.”

  “So Elaine started to dig,” Jack said.

  “She started asking questions. My sister is a bit of a pushy person once she knows what she wants. She made comments that she wanted to talk to the police.”

  “Sounds brave.”

  “More like reckless. Just after school started in the fall—she was a senior—she didn’t come home from school one day. Mom didn’t think anything of it at first. Elaine did lots of after-school activities. When Mom headed off to her night shift at about five, she found Elaine in a ditch about a half mile away. It’s a miracle she even saw Elaine.

  “To this day Elaine still doesn’t remember how she got there. The doctors said that isn’t uncommon with a bad concussion. She might have been dumped there, or she might have run until they caught up with her.”

  “Tough times,” Vanessa said. “You must really hate the Harris family.”

  David stood and walked to the hearth, came back, and sat down again, his hands clenched on his knees.

  “Like I said—bad blood. Elaine was in the hospital for almost two weeks, followed by another three weeks in a physical rehab place. At that point, my mother had to bring her home because we couldn’t afford any more care. Good thing that Mom was a nurse.”

  “Elaine must have missed a lot of school,” Vanessa said.

  “In some ways, that was the worst part. Elaine had been one of the top performers in her class. She might have even been valedictorian. The school sent homework, but at first she was too drugged to follow it, and after it was just too hard to catch up. Plus, trying to read with one eye was a strain.”

  “And the police?” Jack asked.

  “The cops did respond, but just barely. It wasn’t until Laurie died that they got serious and Rosie, Louise, and Troy plus several others were charged.” David’s voice was softer, edged with bitterness.

  “And they felt it was all Elaine’s fault, I assume,” Jack said.

  David gave a snort. “Oh, quite. That’s the Harris mentality. It’s always your fault that got you killed or beaten up or whatever.”

  “How did all that play out? Did Elaine have to testify?” Vanessa asked.

  “She wasn’t called because she couldn’t remember enough, but her doctors gave compelling evidence about the damage. Mom was terrified and by that point Elaine was also very traumatized.”

  “But sh
e got caught up at school, right?” Jack asked.

  “That was amazing. She worked so hard and graduated with her class. But she couldn’t have done it without Marly. That was how she began working on the startup.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “That would be Marly Shaw? Isn’t she a Harris? What brought that about?”

  “Her mother is some sort of Harris cousin. Her father had disappeared years before and Del was her stepfather.”

  “I’m surprised your mother approved,” Jack said.

  “I don’t know her very well, but Marly can be just as pushy as my sister in her own way. Apparently, they figured that she and Elaine needed to team up—sort of like a smart girls club from Charon Springs. It was all planned out. Mrs. Haas, the town librarian, even gave Elaine a job. I don’t think she was given many options either.”

  “And?”

  “And Elaine caught up. She graduated with her class. She managed to finish in the top ten percent. Marly was in a tie for valedictorian, by the way. That spring was great. Zeke and Del were gone. Larry got locked up for good. Rosie, Louise, and Troy were in jail or headed there. The whole place took a deep breath and the peace lasted for a couple of years, until Rosie and crew were out again.”

  “Elaine went to college?”

  “Sure. She went to SUNY Albany. Marly went to Brown on a big scholarship. Albany was a stretch for us. But that startup sold just before Christmas their freshman year. We were surprised as all get-out. Elaine ended up with a nice percentage of the company because there hadn’t been much money for real paychecks. The deal was tiny by Silicon Valley standards, but Elaine got enough to fund college. In addition, she got a job at the new parent company at a very nice salary just to keep her off the market. What impresses me is that Elaine was the one who nailed those parts as a condition of the sale. I think that even surprised Marly.”

  Vanessa kept her voice neutral. “That was when she moved to California, right?”

  “Yeah. Elaine transferred to Stanford. Eventually Mom rented a place in Palo Alto. That was a financial stretch, but she said Elaine needed help. I think she just wanted to get away from here.