Dial 'M' for Maine Coon

by Alex Erickson

  This time, the silence went on long enough that I grew worried. Like Reg, Wayne Hastings wasn’t a young man anymore. Too much of a shock might send his heart over the edge.

  “Mr. Hastings?”

  “I’m here,” he said. His voice was choked with emotion, so I gave him a few more moments. “After all this time. She was alive.”

  “She was pregnant when she ran.”

  “Joseph’s?”

  “Yeah. His name is Erik. He came to Grey Falls to meet his dad, but when he arrived, it was already too late.”

  “Too late?” Wayne said. “What do you mean by that?”

  I closed my eyes. Great, he didn’t know. “Joe was murdered. I found his body. It’s why Erik sought me out.”

  “Murdered?” He muttered a couple of expletives under this breath. His next word came out stronger, as if hearing about a crime brought some of the old detective back. “How?”

  I didn’t know if I was breaking some sort of rule by telling him, but since Detective Cavanaugh hadn’t told me to be quiet, I assumed it was okay. “He was shot in his home. I think it was because he figured out his wife might still be alive, and why she’d run.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what I can say to you,” Wayne said. “Christine’s disappearance happened a long time ago, and we’d run on the assumption she was dead. It means most everything we’d thought we’d known about the case was wrong.”

  “I just have a few questions I hope you can answer,” I said. “I’m not a reporter or a detective or anything, but I do have an interest in the case. I was hoping that maybe we could meet and talk about some of the suspects. I know the detective in charge of the murder investigation. Maybe something will come out of our conversation that I can pass on to him.”

  “I don’t see how,” he said. I was about to resort to begging when he went on. “But I suppose it can’t hurt.”

  “Thank you!” I almost jumped up and down in my seat. “Where should we meet?”

  Wayne rattled off his address and we made plans to meet there in an hour, which gave me time to ready myself for our meeting.

  I hung up feeling giddy, and a little frightened. Wayne Hastings seemed nice enough over the phone, but he was still a stranger. As far as I knew, he was the reason Christine fled town in the first place.

  And he might have killed Joe.

  Good thing I didn’t plan on visiting him alone.

  This time, when I dialed, I knew the man on the other end of the line.

  “Duke. It’s Liz.”

  “Liz? What did Courtney do now?” He sounded almost resigned.

  “Nothing, as far as I know. I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

  “That murder you mentioned.”

  He knew me so well. “Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “This is a big ask, but I have a meeting set up with the detective who was in charge of the case thirty years ago. I was hoping you might be willing to come with me?”

  There was a beat where I could almost imagine his confusion before he asked, “Why?”

  “It’d make me feel better,” I said. “I really want to talk to him, but I don’t want to do it on my own. If you can’t, that’s okay. I could always find someone else.” Though I had no idea who.

  “No, I’ll come.”

  I was so shocked by how easily he’d accepted the invitation, it took me a few heartbeats to answer. “Thank you, Duke.”

  “Where do you want me to meet you?”

  I almost rattled off Wayne’s address, before I changed my mind. “I’ll pick you up, if that’s okay?”

  “All right. That’s fine. I’ll be here.” And then, sounding almost amused, he added, “You’d better not get me killed.”

  “I’ll try not to.” I disconnected, hoping that if it came down to it, and we were about to confront a killer, Duke would be the one keeping me from a murderer’s hand, not the other way around.

  16

  Duke slid into the van next to me, turned sideways, and said, “Are you really going to do this?”

  “Do what?” I asked. “Put on your seat belt.”

  He did as requested. “Get involved with something better left to the cops.”

  I backed out of his driveway and drove for a few minutes before answering. “Amelia is working the case with her mentor, who just so happens to be the private investigator who looked into Christine Danvers’s disappearance thirty years ago. So, yes, I’m going to do what I can to help.”

  Duke surprised me by resting a hand on my wrist. “All right. Then let’s do this.”

  It felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. Or, at least, the little devil that had been whispering into my ear had been swept aside. If Duke approved, then what I was doing couldn’t be all bad, could it?

  “How are things with Courtney?” Duke asked.

  “I’m not sure. I returned Chico to his owner and let Courtney know I don’t approve of her actions. She acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about, but I think she got the point.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “She was making a delivery. Alone.”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “I couldn’t bring myself to go over there when she called. I just don’t think I can do it anymore, not with her acting like a child when she doesn’t get her way. I hate to walk away from the animals, but what else can I do?”

  Something popped out of my mouth then that I didn’t plan on saying.

  “You could always work with me at Furever Pets.”

  Duke looked out the side window, and for a moment I feared I’d offended him somehow. When he turned back to me, I saw he was smiling. “You know, that might not be such a bad idea. I might have to think about it for a little while.”

  There was the faintest twinge of guilt, but it faded away pretty quickly. I hadn’t intended to poach Duke from Pets Luv Us, but if he was already planning on walking away from Courtney’s rescue, there was no reason why he couldn’t come work with me. She’d hate it, and a part of me was glad for it. I guess there was a little childlike spite in me as well.

  “So, give me the rundown on what to expect here,” Duke said. “All I know is what you told me yesterday, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’ve got all the facts straight.”

  The rest of the trip consisted of me trying to explain the tangled web of Christine Danvers’s life. I told him about her parents’ murder, her later adoption, and marriage to Joe Danvers. I told him of her flight from Grey Falls, of Erik, and then of Joe’s murder. I tried not to leave out a single detail, but there was so much to go over in such a short drive, I’m sure I missed something.

  “Wow,” he said when I finished talking. “I mean, a murder is bad enough, but with everything else tied to it, I . . .” He shook his head. “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “Right now, I’m thinking Harry Davis, the guy that verbally assaulted Sasha, might be involved. He showed up at Chester’s and acted awfully invested in what was going on. I mean, why demand Chester stop looking into it if he doesn’t have a stake in the outcome of the investigation?”

  “He could just be a jerk who thinks that the victim got what was coming to him.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

  I pulled into Wayne Hastings’s driveway a few minutes later. The garage door was open, and hung so crooked, I wasn’t sure it could actually close. Inside, an old Dodge Charger sat, polished to a shine. It had one of those strange license plates that indicated it was special in some way. Historic maybe? I’m not into cars, so I could be wrong and the plate was meaningless.

  Duke whistled appreciatively as he stepped out of my van. “You need to get one of those.”

  “Right,” I said with a laugh. “I’d probably drive it straight through a wall.”

  “Car like that might come out of it okay.”

  I could tell Duke wanted to walk over and investigate the vehicle, but that wasn’t why we were there. I led him to the front door, though I walked slowly so he
could stare for a little while longer. The front door was open, allowing a faint breeze to air out the house. I could see in through the storm door, and noted the house looked clean and tidy. I didn’t see anyone, and didn’t want to yell into the house, so I knocked.

  The door rattled loudly in its frame, causing me to wince. Wayne’s house wasn’t as isolated as Duke’s, but the metallic banging made me feel like I’d disturbed the peace of the neighborhood.

  A man with a stooped back and sharp eyes appeared and made his slow way to the door. Each step shuffled, as if lifting his feet pained him.

  “Liz Denton?” he asked through the door. When I nodded, he unlatched it. “Come on in.” He turned and shuffled his way back into his living room.

  Duke and I shared a look before we entered.

  Wayne kept his house well-lit. The floor was clean of debris, and everything seemed to have its place. The house itself was old, and was starting to decay as older houses often did. Water spots speckled the ceiling in places, and the floor sagged in a few well-walked spots. It wasn’t that Wayne wasn’t keeping up with the upkeep, but rather, the house itself was finally giving in to age.

  “Take a seat.” Wayne settled into a glider rocker with a groan. “If you want something to drink, the kitchen’s that way.” He waved a hand toward a small galley kitchen before his gaze settled on Duke. “And you are?”

  “Duke Billings.” He extended a hand, which Wayne shook. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Wayne winked, and then turned to me. “So, Joe Danvers didn’t kill Christine. Christine fled town, had a kid, who is now back in town. And now Joe is dead. Did I miss anything?”

  “That’s the gist,” I said. “There are a few details I’d like to run past you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  “What can you tell me about the original investigation?” I asked. “I have some of the smaller details, but there’s a lot I don’t know.”

  Wayne shifted in his seat with a faint grimace. “Like I said on the phone, I’m not sure how I can help you. I was lead on the case, but there wasn’t much to go on at the time. Joe was our best suspect—our only suspect—and yet I never did like him for it.”

  “But you pursued it as if he was guilty anyway?”

  “It was the only thing we could do,” Wayne said. “We didn’t have a murder weapon. We didn’t have a motive. Hell, we didn’t even have a body, which made it all the harder to figure out what happened. It was as if she simply up and disappeared.” He paused, expression going thoughtful. “I suppose that’s exactly what happened, wasn’t it?”

  “Did you have any reason to suspect that she’d fled town?” I asked. “Like, did you hear about someone strange hanging around her or anything like that?”

  “Not a thing,” Wayne said. “As far as we could tell, the Danverses were fine people. Then Christine comes up missing and we had a witness claiming they saw Joe carrying her off into the woods. We couldn’t find a grave, shallow or otherwise, but it was all we had.”

  “Your source was Harry Davis, wasn’t it?”

  Wayne’s face did something I couldn’t describe. There was loathing there, and maybe a little bit of guilt. “It was.”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  I glanced at Duke and noted his jaw was clenched. He was likely thinking about what Harry had said to his wife, and quite frankly, I didn’t blame him.

  I kept as much distaste out of my voice as I could when I said, “He showed up at Chester Chudzinski’s place. Do you know who he is?”

  “A PI,” Wayne said. “Worked the disappearance on Joe’s behalf. Can’t say we paid him much mind back then, but from what I remember, it sounds like some of what he was saying might have been true.”

  “He always believed Joe innocent, and Christine alive.” I didn’t mean it as a shot at Wayne’s investigation, but from his involuntary wince, he’d taken it that way. “He’s been keeping an eye on the case over the years. Then, just the other day, Harry showed up and warned him off it.”

  Wayne started rocking in his chair. “Like he had something to hide?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But he was pretty threatening. When that didn’t work, he started up again and claimed that Joe and Christine’s son, Erik, killed his own father.”

  “Claims he saw it?” Wayne asked.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “Erik was hanging around outside Joe’s place before the murder, but it wasn’t because he was planning on killing him. He was working up the guts to go in and talk to him.”

  Wayne sighed and rubbed at his wrist like it was hurting him. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Looking back, I fear we made a mistake listening to Harry. He tends to stretch the truth when it comes to dealing with people who are, shall we say, different.”

  “I noticed,” I said.

  “Back then, no one thought much of it. Harry was Harry. He hung around a couple other people of similar persuasion, though the one he spent the most time with was a man named Martin Castor.”

  “I haven’t heard the name.”

  “He hasn’t been in much trouble lately, so I’m not surprised. But when he was younger.” Wayne whistled and shook his head. “He caused quite the ruckus. We chalked it up to wild youth, but there was always more to it. He targeted certain people, and had no qualms about hurting others if he thought they deserved it.”

  “Do you think Martin or Harry could have had anything to do with Christine’s disappearance?” I asked. “Or Joe’s murder?”

  Wayne shrugged. “Hard to say. It wasn’t until, I don’t know, two years after we gave up looking for Christine that I realized what kind of man Harry was. When he first came to us with his story, I had no reason to doubt him, but the more we looked into it, the more his story didn’t add up. And since his claims seemed to change with the wind . . .”

  “And Martin?”

  Wayne rocked for a few moments before answering. “He was never a suspect, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t believe he had anything to do with either of the Danverses. They weren’t the kind of people he associated with, and they made sure to steer clear of him.”

  Of course, that didn’t mean they succeeded in that regard. “Could one of them have chased Christine away? Hounded her until she feared for her life?”

  “Could have, I suppose. I’ve had quite a long time to think about it,” Wayne said. “My body has started to fail me, but my mind is as strong as it ever was.” He shifted in his chair so that he was practically sitting on a hip. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “If it wasn’t for Harry’s claim, we might have looked harder at what truly happened to Christine. And if . . .” He frowned.

  “If what?”

  “You have to understand that while Christine was missing, there was no body. People thought Joe killed her, but it wasn’t an official murder investigation. I was buried in bureaucratic nonsense at the time, and I’ll be the first to admit it interfered with my investigation.” Wayne looked miserable because of it. “I will say, Harry didn’t strike me as a killer. He got involved, sure, but to kill someone?” He shook his head.

  “He might have been covering for someone else,” Duke said, drawing both Wayne’s and my eyes. “If his friend went after this Christine woman, then perhaps he claimed he saw her husband disposing of the body to protect this friend of his.”

  “You know, I’ve considered a similar angle over the years,” Wayne said. “But was never able to prove anything.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I never believed Christine was alive.” He closed his eyes briefly as if he regretted it immensely. “And after a while, I stopped believing Joe Danvers had anything to do with her death. That meant I needed to ask myself who might have, and Harry’s name kept popping into my head.”

  “You think he went after her?”

  “As I said,
I don’t think Harry has it in him to kill anyone. He’s big on threats and making a hell of a scene, but as far as I’m aware, he’s never actually hurt anyone physically.”

  “That’s not how he likes to tell it,” Duke muttered.

  “He would embellish, that’s for sure,” Wayne said. “But every time Harry’s name came up on a scanner, he was always just an accessory. Back then, Martin Castor would be the one to slash a tire, bust a window, and in some cases, a few noses. Harry would egg him on, and would talk just as loudly as Martin, and then afterward would boast that he had a bigger hand in it than he did. The man’s all talk.”

  “So, then, Martin could have done it.” I tried to imagine someone akin to Harry, but more violent, and decided I didn’t like the image my brain provided.

  “Perhaps,” Wayne said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “There’s a lot to dislike about those two men, but Martin’s cleaned up last I heard. I can’t even say he still associates with Harry anymore. I’ve been out of the loop these last few years.” His smile was almost sad.

  Wayne sat up in his chair, planting both his feet firmly on the floor. When he met my eye, there was something behind his gaze, an intensity that had me leaning forward to hear what he had to say.

  “I will say, Harry and Martin aren’t good people. That’s a given. I can’t dismiss the idea that either of them might have had a hand in Christine’s disappearance or Joe’s death, just because I don’t think they did it. But the more I consider what happened back then, the more I think there’s something more going on.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Honestly? I’m not sure. There were irregularities with the investigation from the start. As I mentioned, I’ve had a long time to think about Christine’s disappearance. And this last hour, between when you called and when you showed up on my front step, I’ve thought even harder about it. I don’t think we’re dealing with a simple disappearance and murder here. I think we’re dealing with something far, far bigger.”