Suspicious Origin

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “I’ll show you where,” said the patrolman, who led Britt past a neat row of desks to a partitioned-off room with a frosted-glass door.

  “Thanks,” said Britt as she rapped on the door frame.

  “Come on in.”

  Britt entered the room and saw Chief Stern sitting behind a messy desk piled with disorderly stacks of papers. Dean Webster, who was seated in a swivel chair in front of the desk, spotted Britt and his face lit up. “Hey, you found me,” he said.

  “I’m here to see Chief Stern,” she said.

  “Not my day,” said Dean as Ray stood up politely to shake her hand.

  “Miss Andersen,” Ray said.

  “Chief, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Oh, we’re not that formal around here,” said Ray. “I see you know our local TV reporter.”

  “We met yesterday, at my sister’s funeral,” said Britt.

  “Miss Andersen here is in the TV business, too, Dean,” said Ray.

  “I know,” said Dean. “I’m a fan.”

  The scanner on Chief Stern’s desk began to squawk and Dean immediately looked interested. This guy is a competitor, Britt thought. She’d seen plenty of young guys, and women, too, with that kind of drive. Dean had plans for his future, obviously. He was already reporting on camera. Of course it was a small local station. But, obviously, he didn’t plan to spend his career here.

  Ray picked up his phone, punched in a number and asked a few questions. “Okay,” he said. “Keep me posted,” and hung up. He turned to the newsman. “Mountain rescue.”

  “How many?” Dean asked.

  “Two guys,” said Ray Dean stood up. “I hope Jeff’s still in the van,” he said.

  “He was eating a bagel when I went by,” said Britt wryly

  “We’re on it. Ray, I’ll have to catch you later. Hey, before I go, Miss Andersen,” said Dean with a brash smile. “What about our date?”

  “Do we have a date?” said Britt.

  “I don’t think I can trust you to call me. Give me your cell phone number.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear. He had a masculine, sweaty scent that made her feel slightly dizzy. “I’ve got some ideas that might interest you,” he murmured.

  “I doubt it,” Britt said, but she was curious in spite of herself. She scribbled down the number.

  Dean touched her fingers as he took the pad from her. “Thanks,” he said. “See ya, Ray.”

  Chief Stern shook his head and indicated the vacant seat. “Miss Andersen. Thanks for coming in.”

  “Britt,” she said.

  “Britt, some new questions have arisen since we spoke yesterday.”

  “I know,” said Britt, taking a deep breath. “I spoke to the fire marshal at the scene. He said this fire was arson.”

  Ray looked taken aback. “He’s not supposed to be giving out that information.”

  Britt ignored his dismay. “My sister was deliberately murdered.”

  Chief Stern hesitated, but seemed to realize that it was futile to deny it. Besides, Dean Webster had just informed him that he knew about it and was putting it on the news at noon. The bell could not be unrung. “Well, it looks that way,” he admitted.

  “Have you got the autopsy report?” Britt asked.

  Ray nodded, and tapped a stapled form on his desk. “Would you like to see it?”

  Britt started to reach for the paper and then she grimaced. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read all the details about the examination of Greta’s corpse. “Could you…maybe summarize it for me?”

  “Certainly,” said Ray. “Greta Lynch was badly burned, although she died from smoke inhalation. We found no evidence of any other injury on her. Slightly elevated blood alcohol. She’d had a glass of wine. And a significant quantity of a prescription tranquilizer as well. All that would explain why she slept through the setting of the fire. We presume that Zoe didn’t awaken, but then kids, teenagers, can sleep through anything.”

  Britt nodded, as if she knew this. She took a deep breath and avoided the chiefs gaze. “Do you have any suspects?” she asked.

  ‘We’re still trying to piece the events together,” he said carefully.

  Britt could feel her heart pounding. “Look, Chief Stern, I don’t know if this matters or not, but I was there when you asked my brother-in-law about his marriage. He said everything was fine, but Vicki, the girl who is living at the Carmichaels’? She told me that she heard them arguing that night.”

  Chief Stern frowned. “This girl, Vicki, saw Alec and your sister arguing,” said the chief.

  “Right,” said Britt. “Well, heard them.”

  “I don’t know that that matters,” said Ray.

  Britt stared at him, though he did not meet her gaze. She hadn’t been certain she was going to bring this up but now she couldn’t help herself. All she wanted, she told herself, was to be sure that the police had all the information they needed. “Well, there’s something else you’d better know. My sister…hired a private investigator.”

  Ray sat upright in his chair. “You know that for a fact?”

  “She received a registered letter today from a private investigator named Gardner. The return address said something about matrimonial surveillance.”

  Chief Stern frowned. “Where is this detective located?”

  “I don’t know. Alec grabbed the envelope away from me before I could see any more. But I think you should find out.”

  “Oh, I will,” he said.

  “Do you think it’s possible…” she asked.

  “Alec, you mean? Well, naturally the prime suspect is always the spouse. But in this case, aside from the fact that he has an alibi, the problem is Zoe. He obviously adores her. I can’t imagine a father doing such a thing.”

  “Apparently the accelerant was only in the guest room. The room where Greta was sleeping. Maybe he…the arsonist thought Zoe would escape.”

  “But that would be taking such a chance with her life. And leaving her to awaken in the middle of that inferno, knowing her mother was in the fire. That would make him a monster. I just can’t picture him doing anything so…brutal and vicious.”

  “Still, it happens,” Britt insisted.

  Ray looked up at her. “You don’t have any children, do you, Miss Andersen?”

  Britt was irritated, but tried not to show it. She hated it when people lorded their parenthood over her, treating her as if she were some self-absorbed adolescent. She understood that most parents loved their children. But her own mother had walked away from her without a backward glance. Who could have predicted that? Who was to say that every display of parental love was real? For some people, those demonstrations of parental love were just part of a disguise, a socially acceptable illusion. But she didn’t intend to sit here and try to convince Ray Stern of that. “I’m going to stay around town a little longer,” she said. “Will you keep me informed?”

  “Yes,” he said gravely. “We’ll be in touch.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. Britt shouldered her bag and left him sitting there. She walked out of the police station and turned up her collar against the chill. Trudging up the street, thinking about their conversation, she hoped she had done the right thing. She didn’t want to jump to any hasty conclusions. The private detective…it didn’t necessarily prove anything. If Alec wasn’t guilty then he had nothing to hide. None of this would matter. It wasn’t as if she was going to announce her every suspicion to the newspapers or something. She had to think of Zoe, and how she would feel if Britt made such a thought public.

  “Hey,” said a voice behind her.

  Britt jumped and turned around.

  Alec Lynch was emerging from a coffee shop called Henry’s. He walked up to where she was standing. Britt froze, wondering if he had seen her coming out of the police station, and if he was going to ask her what she was doing in there.

  Alec gestured to the car that was parked next to where she was standing. Britt looked around and saw t
he blue Mercedes. “Must be fate,” he said, unsmiling. “Come on back to the dealership with me. Ill take you for that ride.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lauren” said Alec. “Give Britt your jacket. I’m gonna take her up on the mountain. She can’t wear that bulky wool coat. Britt, take that thing off.”

  Alec, who had changed his own leather jacket for a dark green parka, searched for a particular set of keys from a Peg-Board on the wall. He had insisted on showing Britt the countryside on one of his vehicles and Britt had not been able to think of a polite way to refuse. She reluctantly removed her coat and donned Lauren’s raspberry-colored jacket.

  “Wear these, too,” Alec commanded, as he reached into a closet and tossed a pair of hiking boots at her feet.

  “These are too big for me,” said Britt. “I can tell just by looking at them.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Wear these heavy socks. You’ll be fine. We’re not going to be hiking.” He handed her a pair of thick socks made out of some kind of marled wool.

  “You’ve got a regular clothing outlet in there,” she said.

  Alec ignored the remark. “I’m going to bring the pickup around. It’s got a machine in the back. Lauren, we’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  An hour or two, Britt thought, alarmed. She dreaded the idea of spending that much time alone with him, out in the cold. “I’m not much for outdoor sports,” she said, hoping he might recognize her reluctance and think better of this excursion.

  “This isn’t a sport,” he said. “The skiers are right about that. But don’t tell my customers I said so. You need to see some of our scenery though, since you’re here. This is a very efficient way to do it. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Britt tied the bootlaces and stood up, stamping her feet in the oversize boots.

  “Have fun,” said Lauren.

  Britt gave her a feeble smile, and walked out through the showroom. She assumed that Alec wanted to impress her with the size of his dealership, and she couldn’t fail to notice the number and range of vehicles that he had for sale. There were motorcycles, four-wheel all-terrain vehicles, and a dazzling array of snowmobiles. Judging from the number of people who were gazing at them in the showroom, and the three salesmen on the floor, it seemed to Britt that Alec did indeed do a booming business. There were several young men in a cluster, admiring a particular silver-and-black snowmobile by the door. She edged past them, feeling slightly self-conscious in the clown-size boots, and opened the tinted glass door.

  As Britt stepped outside, Alec pulled up in a white pickup that had a snowmobile secured in the bed of the truck. “Get in,” he said.

  Britt sighed, and got in on the passenger side. She dreaded this drive, and didn’t know what she was going to talk about with him. She knew she had better not mention the letter from the private detective, or her conversation with Chief Stern about Greta. She glanced surreptitiously at Alec’s dark, gloomy profile. Shouldn’t you be thinking about who killed your wife? she thought. Rather than about showing off your business or giving a tour of the local scenery?

  As if he could read her mind, Alec said, “I find that going up into the mountains is the best way to clear my head. It’s magnificent up there. It doesn’t allow you to think about anything else.”

  Britt nodded, and looked out the window, prepared for an awkward, silent ride.

  But Alec had other ideas. As they drove along, leaving the village far behind them, he kept up a running monologue about winter sports in this part of central Vermont. The day was clear, with azure sky and puffy clouds. Britt gazed at the stark, beautiful landscape and tried to imagine it green, in summer. There were farms with rolling fields at the foot of the mountain, and then, as they ascended, dense forest with streams that ran through it. The road curved around sharp turns, and, as they rounded a particularly narrow bluff, a lake appeared below them, steam rising from its cobalt-blue surface. Britt gasped at the beauty of it.

  “Spectacular, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Is it safe up here?” she said.

  “As long as you pay attention. This is a logging road we’re on now,” he explained. “When we get up a little higher we’ll leave the truck and take the machine. There’s a trail along a ridge where you can see the whole valley.”

  “What sort of trail?” she asked.

  “Oh there’s a whole network of trails through these mountains, cut through the snow, by and for snowmobilers. The trails give you a chance to get into the back country and see what it really looks like. The touring skiers all bitch about snowmobiles, but they love our trails, all right. We do all the work for them. Without a trail, it’s pretty difficult to negotiate up here. You have to be an expert, Nordic skier. Here, this is where we park.”

  The parking area was little more than a wide spot in the road. The pickup truck jerked to a halt and then Alec got out, and set up the ramp down which he was able to roll the snowmobile. While he readied the vehicle, Britt looked around. They were surrounded by evergreen woods, the tree limbs heavy with snow. Britt stamped her feet to keep her feet and legs warm, but her upper body was toasty in the parka.

  “You need long Johns,” Alec observed as he wheeled the snowmobile over toward her.

  “I wasn’t exactly dressed for this,” she said.

  He handed her a set of goggles, and pointed into the woods. “We’re going along that trail and we’ll come out on a ridge. If you look to your left when we get there, you’ll see quite an amazing sight. It’s a steep drop down. About a thousand feet. You won’t be able to miss it. Hop on,” he said. He patted the back of the snowmobile.

  Britt looked warily at the vehicle. “Don’t I need a helmet?” she asked.

  Alec frowned. “I never wear one. You’ll be safe enough. I’ve driven these trails so many times…”

  “I don’t know,” she said warily.

  “Come on,” he said impatiently. “We’ll make it a short ride. We’ll follow the trail winding down the mountain for a few miles. We’ll go through the woods, past some streams and snowfields. And then back up to the truck. We’ll even pass the spot I told you about. By the lake with the sugar shack. Where I’m going to bring Greta’s…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “You know, the ashes,” he said.

  “Right,” she said. “Okay. If you’re sure…”

  He climbed onto the snowmobile, and Britt got on gingerly behind him. The moment she was in place, he turned it on and revved up the engine. The noise was deafening and she grimaced. He shouted something to her, but she couldn’t hear his voice over the roar of the engine. She shook her head, and then cried out as the snowmobile leaped forward, nearly toppling her.

  She grabbed on to his bulky jacket and clung to it, as the vehicle took off through the trees moving at a smooth, roaring clip along the trail. Snow flew all around her, and bits of ice pelted her like pebbles. They burst forth into daylight, and mounted the ridge he had described. The vaulting sky was indeed magnificent, and for a moment, Britt was dazzled. Then, she looked to her left, and let out a cry as she saw the steep drop that fell off into the valley. On the right the wooded slope was also steep, and covered with snow. On either side it was a daunting prospect. She couldn’t help wondering if these vehicles ever skidded out of control and lost their purchase on these trails, wiping out in a tangle of metal and human limbs.

  She felt sweat trickle down underneath her shirt, and the wind whipped across her bare face, chapping her cheeks. She was uncomfortable and uneasy. She thought of tugging at his jacket, begging him to stop, but he seemed oblivious to her discomfort.

  “How fast are we going?” she cried out, but her voice was only a squawk against the roar of the engine. She had the sinking certainty that he was not going to stop, no matter what she said or did. She told herself to calm down and try to enjoy the view. He wasn’t about to wipe out while he was driving this thing. He knew what he was doing. She lifted her head to gaze at the picturesque, snow-covered world around her, and for a
moment she reveled in the splendid isolation. But when she looked ahead, it seemed as if they were heading directly into a tree. “No!” she cried out, but Alec did not respond. He steered the vehicle on the narrow trail winding between the trees and, as they passed through a copse of evergreens, a snow-laden bough caught her on the side of her head, the snow landing in her hair, and under the neck of the jacket, the needles scratching her face.

  She jerked back to get away from the bough, and the snowmobile teetered.

  “Stop that,” he shouted, and his voice carried back to her frozen ears.

  You stop it, you bastard, she thought. You did that deliberately. You’re trying to knock me off this thing. She grabbed a handful of his jacket and jerked on it as hard as she could. She could see his head snap back, and he brought the machine to an abrupt stop, throwing his feet out into the snow for balance as they came to a halt.

  The minute the machine stopped, Britt threw her leg over it and slid off. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  Alec glared at her. “Trying to give you a tour,” he replied.

  “You deliberately drove up against those trees so I’d get caught in the face. Why the hell don’t you drive out there, where there are no trees?” she cried, pointing to the smooth, snow-covered hillside. “Isn’t there a trail out there, or wouldn’t it be any fun if I wasn’t taking it in the face?”

  Alec shook his head. “Yes, there’s a trail out there, but there’s also a lot of fresh snow. A steep slope like that with no trees is prone to avalanche, for your information.”

  Britt brushed herself off angrily. “The noise from this thing could cause an avalanche.”

  “All right,” he said. “That was the rough part. Get back on. We’re coming to some beautiful territory.”

  “No, thanks,” said Britt, shaking her head. “You go ahead. I’ll walk back to the truck.” She turned around and started to march toward the trees.

  “Get away from there,” he cried. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  Before she could take another step, he had grabbed her by the crook of the elbow and jerked her back.