Web of Silence: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 4)

by Marjorie Doering

  “Of course I will.” She cupped Marguerite Lundquist’s shoulders in her hands. “Don’t you worry, ma’am, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We’ll let ourselves out,” Ray told them.

  With a hand still to her stomach and another traveling to her mouth, Marguerite Lundquist got up and hurried away again.

  Waverly turned to Dolores Shadick. “Tell Mrs. Lundquist we’ll be in touch.”

  “Fine. Just make sure you catch the S.O.B. who killed Mrs. Lundquist’s husband.”

  They drove for a mile before Waverly said a word. “Lundquist owned a boat dealership in Fort Lauderdale—sold off-shore fishing boats and yachts, no less.”

  “Okay…so the Yachtmaster watch had special significance. Got it.”

  “Lundquist’s widow seems like a nice woman,” Waverly added as an afterthought.

  “She does.”

  “She’s got looks, wealth, education—the whole package,” Waverly said.

  Ray glanced his way. “And if she found out her husband was fooling around, maybe a penchant for revenge. Maybe her being laid up in bed last night was legit, maybe not. One thing’s obvious, though: if she wanted to, Marguerite Lundquist could afford to pay an army of people to kill her husband.”

  “Can’t argue about that,” Waverly said. “The diamond in that ring of hers is big enough to choke a goose. And that house…” He fiddled with his tie. “The cost of having him killed prob’ly wouldn’t put a noticeable blip in her bank account, but I don’t see her having the stomach for that kind of thing.”

  “After thirty-eight years of marriage, can you imagine a woman’s reaction to finding out her husband is cheating on her? Thirty-eight years, Dick.”

  “Like it goes from forgiveness to divorce to murder in ten-year increments or something?” Waverly said.

  “The more time invested, the higher the stakes.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve seen it go the other way, too—from ‘We can fix this’ to ‘Two can play that game’ to ‘Fine, you bore the socks off me anyhow’.”

  “You’re just a little ray of sunshine today,” Ray said.

  “Just sayin’, buddy.”

  “Back to Lewis Lundquist,” Ray said. “If he expected his wife to be with him last night, it stands to reason he wouldn’t have planned to meet anyone. Our Jane Doe was probably a pick-up or maybe someone he already knew. In that case, he could’ve called and arranged a little get-together with her after he left his house.”

  “Makes sense,” Waverly said. “Ruling it a mugging would be the easy call, but I’m not sure that’s what we’ve got. Something feels off about it.”

  “Yeah, to me, too,” Ray said. “If the shooting was intended to look like a mugging, we need to find out which of them was the target. Or, if it’s a case of jealousy, maybe it was a case of wanting both of them dead.”

  “At least Mrs. Lundquist will come out of this okay,” Waverly said. “With her looks and money, men will be beating a path to her door.”

  Ray grinned. “Sounds like maybe you’d like to get in line, Dick. You’d better watch it, though. Phyllis would take you out. You’re in that ‘dead man walking’ stage.”

  “Shut up and drive, would ya?”

  Ray took his eyes off the road just long enough to check out the scowl on Waverly’s face. “Hey, relax, Dick. I was only kidding. You know I’m crazy about Phyllis. If I caught you cheating on her, I’d knock your block off myself.”

  Ray changed lanes and his train of thought at the same time. “When we get back to the station, I’ll check on any new missing person reports. Maybe we’ll get a hit on our Jane Doe.”

  “Good. You take care of that, and I’ll arrange to have someone get a photo of Lundquist to his wife for an ID.”

  6

  Mumbling to herself, Jeanette Seeger paced in front of the bay window of her modest house. With a cigarette in one hand and her cell phone in the other, she blew smoke from a corner of her mouth as she checked her watch with increasing regularity. The incessant motion stopped only long enough for an occasional look outside.

  “Come on, Elena,” she grumbled under her breath. “I’m going to be late.”

  When the cigarette burned too close to chance another drag, Jeanette stopped just long enough to light another before sending a new text to her daughter—her fifth attempt.

  Where R U?

  Abandoning the window, she positioned herself in an armchair for a better view of the street outside. She crossed one thin leg over the other, swinging her foot like a pendulum.

  Scrolling through the saved numbers on her cell phone, she selected another. Three rings later, she said, “Christine? This is Jeanette Seeger, Elena’s mother. I was wondering if you might know where she is. I’m sorry to bother you, but if she doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to be late for an appointment. If I miss it— Yes, it’s important. My hairdresser. I have a standing appointment every Saturday, and if I show up late, I— What? A cab? Yes, I suppose I could do that, but… Oh, sorry. I won’t keep you then, but if Elena gets in touch with you, would you tell her to text me? Yes, I— Yes, all right. Goodbye, dear.”

  Annoyed by the abrupt cut-off, she swung her foot in a still wider arc. “Take a cab,” Jeanette muttered. “The little bitch must think money grows on trees.” She selected another number.

  “Rachel? This is Jeanette Seeger. Is there any chance you’ve been in touch with Elena today? I’ve been expecting her. She’s supposed to take me to an appointment. I’ve been waiting and waiting, but— No, it’s not an emergency exactly, but if I’m late for my hair appointment—

  No, I’ve been trying to text Elena all morning, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.” Her ears perked up. “Georgia? No, I haven’t tried her yet.”

  Indignant at what she was hearing, Jeanette clutched the phone more tightly. “Really? Well, if Nathan’s regular babysitter wasn’t available last night, Elena could’ve asked me to watch him. Yes, I’m aware that Georgia lives closer, but I am his grandmother, after all. If it hadn’t been for my ex son-in-law, I’d have been on hand to pitch in and— What? All right, yes, I’ll check with her, dear.”

  Upset with the curt responses of Elena’s friends, she initiated a call to Georgia Schwartz’s number, expecting more of the same. Instead, the call went directly to voice mail. Jeanette ground out her cigarette in a heavy, ceramic ashtray, flinching when the phone rang in her hand.

  She answered with a curt, “Yes?”

  “Jeanette, it’s Dave.”

  In a single instant, her tone shifted from annoyance to animosity. “What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for Ellie. Is she with you?”

  “Elena,” she said pointedly, “isn’t here. She was supposed to pick me up ages ago, but she’s a no-show. What do you want with her?”

  “It’s Nathan I want. I let her know I’d be coming by this morning to pick him up, but they were gone when I got there, and she hasn’t answered any of my text messages. Do you know where she is?”

  “I don’t know any more than you do. I’ve been waiting for her to take me to my hair appointment.” Jeanette checked her watch. “It’s already twelve-thirty. Even if she comes now, I’ll be late. If I lose my regular time slot over this she’s going to hear about it.”

  “Forget about your beauty parlor appointment. I’m trying to locate Ellie.”

  “It’s a salon,” she pointed out. “And don’t you go getting on your high horse with me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m getting concerned.”

  “About what?”

  “With our custody hearing getting closer, I’m worried that Ellie may have taken off with Nathan.”

  “As in abducted, you mean? Don’t be ridiculous.” She took another drag off her cigarette. “She’d have no reason to do that. They’re not going to give Nathan to his two-faced, cheating father. If you think otherwise, you’re delusional. It’s bad enough you get him every weekend.”

  “Look, Jeanette, I
didn’t call to argue with you. Regardless what you think of me, there’s a good chance the hearing will go my way, and Ellie’s aware of that. She’s made threats in the past about taking Nathan and leaving the Cities. I’m afraid she might’ve done it this time.”

  “Bull. That was only Elena venting.” Jeanette exhaled a cloud of smoke from the corner of her mouth, saying, “Besides, she’d have told me if she was going to do that. I am her mother, you know.”

  “I’m not likely to forget that, Jeanette,” he said. “Do you know where I can reach her?”

  “I already told you I didn’t, but you might want to call that screwy friend of hers… Georgia what’s-her-name. According to one of Elena’s snotty girlfriends, she babysat for Nathan last night. Maybe she can tell you.

  “You know, Elena would have had live-in care for Nathan if I was living under the same roof. It’s ridiculous that I’m stuck here when it would make so much more sense for me to—”

  “I’m not getting into that with you again, Jeanette.” Dunn cleared his throat. “You said Georgia babysat Nathan? You’re talking about Georgia Schwartz, right?”

  “Know a lot of Georgias, do you?”

  He ignored the remark. “I saw an Audi in front of Ellie’s place this morning. I suppose it might be hers, but nobody came to the door when I rang the bell.”

  “Then they probably went off together somewhere,” Jeanette said. “Elena spends way more time with that woman than she does with me—her own mother. It’s just not right that—”

  “Do you have Georgia’s number?”

  “Look it up yourself.” Jeanette sucked down another lungful of tar and nicotine and hit End Call.

  7

  When he got back from the Lundquists’ home, Ray nodded a hello to other detectives on his way through the department, settled behind his desk, grabbed the phone and dialed home.

  “Hello?” Gail said, moments later.

  “How’s it going, babe?”

  “You never made it back last night. Did you get any sleep, Ray?”

  “Not enough. I’m running on auto pilot.”

  “When will you be home?”

  “It could be late. If you’re all in bed when I get back, I’ll go with Plan A.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ll scarf down something from the fridge and head straight up to bed for some sleep.”

  “And if we’re still awake?”

  “I’ll go to Plan B. First I’ll re-introduce myself, then proceed with Plan A.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  He heard the resignation in her voice and checked his watch again. “Sorry, honey, I’d better go. I just wanted to touch base with you. Give the kids a hug for me; you get one, too. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “I’m beginning to forget what you look like. Maybe I’d better wait up to refresh my memory in case you get called back to work in the middle of the night again.”

  “If I didn’t think that was a possibility, I’d laugh,” Ray said. “Things are bound to let up soon. They’d better. I can’t keep this up much longer.”

  “Me either. Love you.” With that she hung up.

  Ray leaned back in his chair, wondering whether that particular ’love you’ was of the L-O-V-E or less heartfelt L-U-V variety. Gail had resorted to giving him little guilt-provoking jabs lately. He didn’t blame her. She hadn’t signed up to be a single parent or a neglected wife, and lately she found herself being both more often than not…again. He wasn’t any more thrilled than she was about the number of hours he’d been putting in lately, but that was something that came with the territory. Knowing that, however, didn’t make it any less frustrating for either of them.

  He’d lost count of the number of times they’d gone through this before. They always worked their way past it. Just another small rough patch, Ray assured himself.

  He ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, then made an interoffice call.

  “Schermerhorn,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Hey, Scherm…Ray Schiller.”

  An upbeat, bass voice boomed, “How’s it going, Ray?”

  “Not too bad, but maybe you can make it go better. There’s a Jane Doe in a coma at HCMC. I need to put a name to her. Do you have any new missing person reports that might help me out?

  “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

  Ray filled him in and held out hope as he heard papers rustling in the background, but when Schermerhorn picked up the phone again, he sounded less chipper.

  “Sorry. The closest thing I’ve got is a missing seventeen year old. And…” he said, “there’s no mention of a scar.”

  “Okay, thanks anyway, Scherm.”

  Waverly walked over, grumbling as Ray hung up. “They’ve still got our mystery woman in a coma.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. It could be awhile yet. How about the photo of Lewis Lundquist?”

  Waverly paced, jingling the coins in his pocket. “What?”

  “Lundquist’s photo,” Ray said again.

  “Oh. I’ve got someone taking his picture to Mrs. Lundquist. He’ll get back to me after she or her son look at it. Until it pays for us to go hit the bars for information, there’s not much more we can do.”

  “I hope we can get that wrapped up in a hurry,” Ray said. “My ass is dragging.”

  “I know. Mine is leaving scuff marks on the floor.” Waverly paused and gave Ray a sidelong look. “Hey, there’s something I need to do, buddy. You have any objection to my leaving for a while?”

  “No, go ahead.”

  Waverly walked away, talking over his shoulder. “I should be back before it’s time to go barhopping. See you in a while.”

  It wasn’t the first time either of them had taken time to deal with personal business, but Waverly, who was usually an open book, normally volunteered an explanation. Ray didn’t require one, but after weeks and weeks of Waverly’s uncharacteristic reticence, his continuing lack of communication was sending up red flags.

  When Waverly returned hours later, he offered a casual apology. “I didn’t expect to be gone so long, buddy. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem.” Ray’s response bordered on a lie. Waverly’s secretiveness was eating away at his resolve to respect personal boundaries.

  “Oh, by the way, we got a positive ID on Lewis Lundquist.”

  “Good. At least that’s out of the way.”

  Waverly nodded. “Ready to head over to the comedy club?”

  “No need,” Ray told him. “I went there about an hour ago. An employee working in the first floor lobby saw Lundquist come in alone and leave the same way. He and the woman hooked up somewhere else.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah,” Ray said, “now we need to figure out where and when.”

  “One needle, a dozen haystacks.”

  “That’s a low estimate,” Ray said, “but it shouldn’t be that tough. They were found nearly on the doorstep of Gluek’s Restaurant and Bar, so that makes it the logical place to start.”

  Gluek’s was downtown Minneapolis’s oldest bar, a popular gathering place with a German beer hall atmosphere, high arched ceilings, dark woodwork and stained glass windows.

  No sooner inside, Waverly collided with a pretty, young brunette who had turned at the wrong moment to give a parting wave to another patron.

  Waverly grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her from landing on the floor. “Sorry, miss. You all right?”

  “I’m fine. I should’ve looked where I was going. Sorry.” She hurried out as Ray and Waverly moved aside to let her pass.

  With a subtle lift of the hand, Waverly approached the bar and summoned the nearest bartender.

  “Hi. What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

  Waverly held up his detective’s shield. “Were you working last night?”

  “Sure, I was here.”

  Ray held up a photo of Lewis Lundquist. “Did you see this man?”

  “Yeah, I rem
ember him. He was drinking Strongbow hard apple cider.”

  “Was he with anyone—this woman maybe?” Ray held out another picture.

  The bartender looked at the photo of their Jane Doe on a ventilator and was clearly taken by surprise. “Geeze. Our customers don’t generally come in looking like this.” He took the picture from Ray, studied it more closely and pursed his lips. “It’s kind of hard to tell from this, but, yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s who I’m thinking of. Sure, she’s been in here. She and two or three of her girlfriends usually come in together.”

  “Any chance you know her name?”

  “Can’t help you there. She’s real standoffish—always texting. Can’t get a damn word out of her… not so much as a hello or goodbye.”

  He gave Ray a nonchalant glance. “Were those the two who got shot last night?”

  Ray nodded.

  “That’s too bad. The man seemed like an okay guy. The chick’s a good-looking woman. It’s a real shame.”

  “The man’s name is Lewis Lundquist.” Ray said, sighing. “Does the name mean sound familiar?”

  “Nah, never heard it before. Last night was the first time I saw him.”

  “Any chance he and the woman came in together?” Waverly asked.

  Shaking his head, the bartender polished the bar in front of him. “He came in alone and sat by himself right here in this spot until he left.”

  “How long did he stay?”

  The bartender’s eyebrows dipped as he thought about it. “An hour… hour and a half maybe, but I was swamped so I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Maybe the woman came in by herself, too,” Ray said. “Did you see her?”

  “No. She wasn’t here last night. If you’d come by a little sooner, I could’ve pointed one of her friends out to you, though. She just left a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Any chance you know her name?” Ray asked.

  “Not hers, but another one of her friends is named Georgia.”

  “You have a last name to go with that?” Ray asked.

  “No. Sorry,” he told them. “But she looks a lot like the one who got shot—blond, blue-eyed, and built, ya know? They look enough alike to be sisters. Don’t know that they are, but they could be.”