by Patti Larsen
Yikes. That was risky of her and not very smart, either. Surely she had to know she’d get caught eventually? But hadn’t David said Lester pushed Heather to frauds she claimed would get her caught? This must have been one of them. “Do you know where the boats ended up, Mr. Buckley?”
He must have nodded because he cleared his throat after a moment’s silence and spoke. “Yes. Reading, Vermont. Your town, Miss Fleming.”
“You said her father works for you, too? Does he still?” And was he in on it?
“Harry seems utterly shocked by what Heather’s been up to.” Gordon didn’t sound so sure. “I don’t have proof he had knowledge, but I had to let him go, too. Poor bastard, but they were family and I can’t have them betraying me like this.”
I hung up after another few moments, promising to have Dad call him right away. Gordon Buckley’s emailed proof would be in my father’s inbox by now, and as I thought about calling him, Dad read my mind.
The moment I answered I told him what I’d learned about Heather. Dad seemed to take everything I said in stride, sounding almost excited by the prospect.
“She’s been my prime suspect,” he said.
“Why?” Yes, she’d been rifling through Lester’s office and she was seen on the footage entering his boat the night he died. But for all I knew Dad hadn’t seen that videotaped proof.
“She has a record,” he said. “That’s where I’ve been, getting the file unsealed.”
“Unsealed? She was underage?” And so much for an unrelated case. Good thing Dad had friends in police departments all over the country. One of them must have obliged him.
“Fourteen,” he said. “Arrested for murder.”
“And they didn’t try her as an adult?” That was surprising.
“They wanted to,” he said. Ah. Which meant they knew they didn’t have enough to convict. “She was sentenced to manslaughter after a plea bargain, tried as a minor. The prosecutor didn’t have enough evidence to get a murder charge to stick so they took the best shot they had.”
“So she was hiding it.” Made sense. “Who did she kill and why?”
“One of her friend’s little sister. She claimed it was an accident but the prosecutor thought otherwise. They got a lesser conviction, manslaughter. But she was a minor, ultimately, and had her record sealed when she turned eighteen.”
Okay, but she had her day in court. Why would that have anything to do with Lester Patterson?
“I have reason to believe Lester was blackmailing her,” he said. “That he found out about Heather’s past and was going to use it to get her and her father fired from Buckley’s.” Having a record, even a sealed one, could be motive. Maybe. There had to be more to it, though. But one thing was certain, there was a reason no one liked Lester Patterson. “She might or might not have killed that child in cold blood, Fee, but there’s a good chance killing comes easily to her now. This info from Gordon Buckley might be all we need to hand her over to the state troopers.” Bypassing the local sheriff’s office. I’d be fine with that. “But that’s not why I’m calling.” Okay, what was with that sudden shift in tone—
Ack. Right. He knew what I’d been up to. I’d gone against his wishes, hadn’t I? Well, I was a grown woman and if he was going to leave me with the means to investigate crimes and to my own devices like this he just had to accept the consequences.
I told him everything without him prompting me for answers, about Luke and David, about Malcolm’s assistance—Dad loved that, sure did—and finally about Geoffrey’s offer. Though I did leave out the creepy closeness of the conversation. Last thing I needed was my father going full action hero on me and doing something permanent to Geoffrey before I had the chance.
Sigh. Flemings.
Though, when I mentioned Geoffrey as a suspect, Dad grunted his unhappy reply.
“He has an alibi,” he said. “I need to talk to those boys. Get your butt outside and I’ll take you with me to the sheriff’s office. You can distract Robert and I’ll see what Luke and David have to say.”
“How about you distract Robert and I talk to them.” Grumpy, Fee? Who, me? But I was already on the move, trotting upstairs, poking my head in the kitchen and gesturing at my phone still against my ear, mouthing “Dad” to Mom who eye rolled before nodding. She tossed some morsels on the floor, luring my eager pug away, leaving me to dodge out the foyer and the front door.
Wouldn’t you know Dad’s pickup was parked on the street right outside my place? I hung up as I climbed in the passenger seat, glaring at him while he glared right back.
“We’re going to have a talk about who does what,” he grumped, putting the truck in gear and heading for the middle of town.
“Just as soon as you stop treating me like a little girl while telling me I have a job to do.” So there, Dad.
He held his peace all the way to the sheriff’s office, though to be fair it was maybe a sixty second drive so he didn’t have to be quiet for long. When we entered the doorway and into the reception area, I was relieved to see Jill wasn’t at her desk and that, upon peeking, the door to Crew’s office was wide open, no Robert in sight.
Toby was on guard duty, apparently, and though I knew she should have sent us both packing she instead stood and hugged Dad then me and gestured for both of us to enter the bullpen, returning her attention to the magazine she’d been reading.
Awesome. “You’re totally stealing her, aren’t you?”
Dad winked and grinned and I had the obvious answer.
I’d had reason to talk to reticent prisoners in this cell not so long ago, though one had been my friend. Jared hadn’t been willing to chat, but David and Luke didn’t seem to have the kind of reserve my construction company buddy used to hide his troubles. They both stood immediately, coming to the bars, looking forlorn and more than a little anxious. To my surprise, Keira Campbell stood outside the cell, her face tight and red, wet with tears. She looked embarrassed and angry enough I figured she was just learning what her father and boyfriend had been up to. Good to know she wasn’t complicit, though I wondered if the pair would ever live down what they’d done in her eyes.
“The family won’t bail me out.” That was Luke and the faint wail in his voice was almost comical. So he’d expected the Pattersons to step up and save his sorry behind? “It’s all Dad’s fault.”
“Your dead father.” I didn’t mean to use that particular tone of voice and the carelessness of my words weren’t lost on me but it was out before I could stop myself. He winced but shrugged.
“They always bail me out.” Wow, poor kid. Way to grow up privileged and find out what it’s like to be the rest of us.
David looked pissed suddenly, like he was about to punch Luke just to shut him up. “Here’s the deal,” he said. “I talk, you put in a good word. John.”
Kiera gasped softly. “Dad,” she said, voice catching. “You need a lawyer.” That desperation had to be from shock.
He shook his head at her, reaching through the bars to touch her hand. “I’m sorry about this, honey,” he said in the same kind of tone my father used on me, sorrow real while she wept. “I’m so sorry I let you down.
Still crying, she pulled her hand free of his and spun, running from the bullpen and out the door. David watched her go, Luke scowling after her like she’d been the one to disappoint him. Patterson, all right.
“Kiera had nothing to do with this,” David said and Dad nodded. That seemed to give the brawny thief the reassurance he needed. He focused on Dad who didn’t say a word, all softly stoic small town sheriff though he wasn’t anymore. “Fee.” Was that desperation in David’s voice? “Please, this was blackmail.”
“You started all of it,” I said, “when you had Heather rip off the Buckleys.” In case he’d forgotten.
David flinched. “I know. And I’ll own up to that. But the rest was all Lester.”
“Why was someone like Lester Patterson stealing from a small company for money when he was, well, a
Patterson?” It didn’t make any sense. They were loaded, weren’t they?
“Dad was broke.” Luke sagged against the bars. “Totally and utterly tapped out. Verge of bankruptcy.”
Okay, I’d heard that rumor from Chris Nortz, but I hadn’t actually believed it. Lester was a Patterson. “How did that happen?” I guess Luke wasn’t the only one the family weren’t willing to bail out.
“We’re all waiting for the old bat to die, okay?” Luke didn’t sound all that guilty over it.
“Marie Patterson,” Dad said, graveled voice low and deep.
“The matriarch,” Luke shrugged, face twisting like the term gave him indigestion. “She controls everything, all the family money. And not just the money, either. There’s a lot of stuff around here she’s got control of.” He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his hands wrapped around the bars while I thought about Olivia and Geoffrey and, for a brief moment, the Reading hoard. Fleeting, that thought, as Dad spoke up. Was it just me or did he sound unsurprised by Luke’s suggestion the Patterson matriarch had her hands around Reading’s throat?
Something else to talk about.
“You both had reason to kill him,” my father said, that smoothed out and practiced tone of voice so familiar I almost grinned.
“We didn’t.” David finally sounded panicked. “I swear, John. I wanted him ruined, yes. I even considered talking to the troopers myself, despite the fact I was back into the kind of business I left behind when I moved here.” He was sweating, a faint film of moisture beading his broad forehead and upper lip. “I couldn’t do this anymore.”
“I hated my dad,” Luke snarled. “But he didn’t have anything I wanted. I had no reason to kill him.” Though, for an instant, I knew if anything happened to the Patterson matriarch he’d be at the top of my hit list.
Wasn’t family lovely?
“And the insurance policy?” Dad met Luke’s eyes finally. “You must stand to benefit from his death, don’t you?”
The young man’s bark of a laugh almost hurt. “As if,” he said. “Go ask the old lady who benefits. And then check her hands for blood while you’re at it.”
***
Chapter Thirty
Back at Petunia’s, Dad and I huddled over coffee to talk out what we’d learned. Mom did her usual take care of us act while my pug lingered, looking for scraps. Dad’s messy eating habits notwithstanding, I wondered how many of his cake crumbs hit the floor because he was actually clumsy or in an effort to hide the truth—he loved feeding Petunia who scrambled with her efficient and noisy snorfling to capture every last molecule.
I was distracted enough by the case to let the tiny bits of doggie contraband slide. “Is there any way the Pattersons are behind Lester’s death?” I’d had my suspicions about their influence over Reading for a while now, and the fact one of their own had been dispatched without much sorrow from the family made me wonder. Yes, they’d lost another Patterson not so long ago, but it seemed more of a stink had been kicked up over the death of young Mason despite his distasteful personality than that of who had to have been his uncle.
Money was a powerful motivator for a lot of things, though, wasn’t it? And from the way Dad scrunched his nose, munching cake, I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking along the lines of the Patterson family guilt.
“I’d love to get a look inside their operation,” Dad said, like they were some kind of criminal masterminds or something. But before I could ask him why he phrased his comment in that particular way, he had already moved on. “And I wish this case offered the kind of opportunity I could use to worm my way in. Maybe if Crew was here.” A frown deepened between his eyes, his gaze skimming over me like he knew more than he was saying and didn’t want to stir the pot. I inhaled to demand he tell me what he knew but Dad was already speaking again. “Doesn’t matter, Fee. I don’t think the Pattersons had anything to do with Lester’s death.”
I had to agree, despite myself. “You’re thinking Heather,” I said. She certainly seemed to be the best suspect thus far, and, as far as I could tell, the last person on the list with motive. “We’re counting out Luke and David, right?” Dad grunted, nodded. “Though they were on the boat that night. They could be deflecting.”
“Possibly,” he said. “Anyone else on your list?”
I thought about it a long moment, sighed. “I know that maybe Chris and Wanda should be at the top, too,” I said, “but with the footage they provided, it feels like they’re trying to help, not hinder.”
“Unless they’re showing you what they want you to see.” Dad set down his fork, sipped his coffee. “First rule of detecting, Fee, my girl. No one gets a pass until every clue is uncovered.”
“Well,” I said, “in that case, let’s review.” I held up one hand, ticking off points on my fingers. “Wanda’s business is in jeopardy, but there’s no solid connection to Lester that we know of, so unless we find a motive, I’m going to write her out.” Dad nodded. “As for Chris, he had a serious hate on for Lester because of the cottages and their constant head butting over the lake. But is it enough to commit murder?”
Dad’s turn to muse. “Chris has a temper,” he said. “And from what the doc said, Lester had some mild bruising on the backs of his legs and that cord mark around his wrist. It’s possible they tussled and Lester fell, an accident. Manslaughter at the very most.”
“Whoever did it had the foresight to eliminate the evidence,” I said, “though not in the best location. So smart but panicked?”
Dad grinned. “Now you’re talking,” he said. “I’ll call the forensics folks and see if there are any fingerprints on that string of lights you found. The lab tests should be back by now. But I’m guessing the only DNA and other evidence will be from Lester.” He shrugged. “Here’s the scenario I’m considering. Lester and whoever it was, ultimately, got in a fight or argument or pushing match. Lester was either struck or fell overboard, taking the string of lights with him, charging the water long enough to shock his heart and electrocute him before the string shorted out.”
“Killing some fish but not leaving any more trace because the power cut when the string died.” I had to admit it sounded perfectly plausible. “Considering Lester’s money problems, can we also posit that it was a solid motivator for his death?”
Dad stared into his cooling coffee mug. “I hate to discount anything,” he said, “but yes, I’m running on that theory, too.” He met my eyes, his quiet and calm, that particular look he got when he was close to solving a mystery. I knew it well, had seen it so many times when I was a kid. Admired him for it. Wondered then if I got that same look. Mind you, the times I’d actually stumbled over the truth I’d been rather distracted by near death experiences and my own shock I’d gotten things right, so maybe not.
“So if we’re working on the money angle,” I said, refusing to admit how much I loved this part (loved it!), “we’re looking at Luke, David, Chris and Heather, yes?”
Dad didn’t move a long moment, gaze far away though his eyes never left mine. “Hmmm,” he finally said.
That didn’t sound like he agreed completely. “If his son is right and he was broke, Luke’s money motivation turns to killing off the old lady.” Wow, Fee, that was crass. “Okay, so he’s out. That leaves David, Chris and Heather.”
“Possible accident,” Dad said, “or murder?” He exhaled, grinned suddenly, reaching out to nab Mom and pull her close a moment. He kissed her soundly on the lips, making my mother blush and giggle, smacking his shoulder with the dishcloth she was holding.
“Johnathan Fleming,” she said, a bit breathless. “What was that for?”
“We did good, girl,” he said, winking at me. “With this one. Didn’t we?”
Mom turned her green eyes to me, that loving mom smile making me blush in turn. “We did,” she said, reaching forward to pat my hand. “Now let me go and solve this murder, you.”
Dad released her after another quick kiss while my heart constricted in what I
was shocked to find was jealousy. Would I ever feel that way about someone? Would I ever have the kind of love that lasted through hard times and the best of moments, have someone who would stick by me when I was a jerk and still look at me like I was the only person in the world? Seeing the way they looked into each other’s eyes in that last moment before Dad let her go, how Mom leaned into him, how they seemed, for just a heartbeat, to be so much younger, as if the shine of their first love still lingered while a sunbeam emerged through the glass and washed over them gave me goosebumps. Just a coincidence, that timing. Still, it made my heart ache I’d ever doubted my father’s love for my mother and filled me with the sort of longing that woke my renewed worry about Crew.
Sigh. How could love suck so much and be so beautifully awesome at the same time?
The sun scooted back behind a cloud, the warmth of its light and the moment fading but not entirely dissipating as Dad released his hold on Mom and turned his attention back to me. The sparkle never left his eyes and I caught him glancing her way a time or two, my mother returning his attention, while we went on. Enough I actually felt myself choking up over how much they still loved one another. Not to mention the bit of embarrassed discomfort that came with the realization my parents were people, too.
Yikes, Fee. Don’t go there. Just don’t.
Dad twirled his coffee mug in his big hands, all business again. “I’m going to throw a wrench in the works,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you knew, but I don’t think you do from what you’ve brought up.”
“That being?” Was this about Crew?
“Just rumors,” he said, “but I’ve heard that there’s been discrepancies in the accounting at the club. Enough to make me wonder if Lester was dipping.”