by Kathi Daley
“Maybe he forgot, or maybe he had no reason to suspect Goober, so he didn’t bring it up.”
“Maybe. But there are other things that don’t fit. We know Peterson was shot, yet not a single person at the lake has mentioned hearing a gunshot. The only two explanations I can come up with for that is that either he was shot elsewhere and brought to the lake, or he was shot with a gun with a silencer. I doubt Hans Goober has a gun like that. I also doubt an old man who can’t weigh more than a hundred and forty pounds shot Peterman, a large man weighing at least one eighty, somewhere other than the place his body was found, then carried him to the lakeshore.”
Mike frowned. “Okay. Those are both good points.”
“Add to that the overall timeline. If Goober shot Peterman on Friday night and found a way to dump him in the lake, why didn’t anyone find the body until we did on Sunday afternoon?”
Mike’s expression grew thoughtful.
“For that matter, how did Tom Flanders even see Doug Peterman visiting Hans Goober on Friday evening? Yes, he has a telescope that I’m sure he uses to spy on this house, but it was pitch black outside on Friday at ten p.m. And it isn’t like spying on this house, with all the interior lights on. There aren’t any lights between this house and Goober’s.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Hans Goober is innocent. Someone else has to have shot Peterman.”
“Okay, who?”
I paused to think about that. Who made the best suspect? “Tom Flanders.”
Mike looked doubtful.
“Think about it. He’s the one who made a big fuss about the Techucom folks. He said he could see their comings and goings through his telescope, which I believe, also might justify his statement that he saw Peterman show up and then go to visit Goober on Friday night, but as we just established, he couldn’t really have seen where he went after he left this house. And then there’s the timeline. According to Flanders, Peterman came back here after he left for the day, but why? As far as I know, Flanders is the only one claiming to have seen Peterman’s truck here, which, as we know, wasn’t here the next day.”
“Maybe Peterman didn’t come back to the lake to come here but to visit Hans Goober,” Mike suggested.
“Flanders specifically said he saw Peterman’s truck parked here. If Peterman came back to the lake to see Hans Goober, why would he park here? The road goes right up to Goober’s place, just like it loops around to all the other cabins. Why not just park there?”
Mike sat back in his chair. “Good point.”
“It seems to me that Flanders has been trying to divert attention from himself from the beginning. First, he pointed us to the Techucom group, and then he pointed Holderman to Hans Goober.”
“So why would he kill Doug Peterman?”
I frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“It seems the fact that Peterman’s truck hasn’t been found is a big part of this,” Tony said.
“The truck has been found,” Mike informed us. “I’m sorry; I thought I told you. It was found sitting on the side of the road in a residential neighborhood about a mile from town. Holderman suspects the killer drove it into town from the lake and left it there.”
“A mile from town? If Doug Peterman did return to the lake that night, why would the killer drive it all the way back to town? Did the crime scene guys pick up any physical evidence?”
“Holderman has the lab working on it. Look, Tess, I know you’re concerned about the old man, but it’s Thanksgiving. Why don’t you let Holderman do his job so you can enjoy this time with the family?”
“But…”
“Even if Goober didn’t kill Doug Peterman, he was part of a scam to sell maps to ten clueless city folks who were probably led to believe there really is a treasure.”
“There might be one, and Hans Goober never said the ten people were told they were buying the exclusive rights to the map. Are you saying he broke any laws?”
Mike shrugged. “Maybe not.”
I looked out the window. The snow had stopped, at least for the moment. “I could use some air. I think I’ll take a walk.” I looked at Tony, who mostly had been sitting quietly since my conversation with Mike began. “Do you want to come along?”
“Sure. I’ll get our coats.”
“And Tess…” Mike said. “Don’t go bugging Tom Flanders. All you have is a very weak theory. Give the man a break. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not home. He’s spending the day with Conrad Bilson and his daughter.”
After we left the house, Tony asked the question I expected. “So what’s really going on? Why the walk?”
“Mike is tired and just a bit tipsy. Which is fine. It’s been a tough week for him, and this is supposed to be his vacation. But he isn’t going to be any help right now. I need to think. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that Tom Flanders could be the guy.”
“I agree it seems like he’s been providing information to lead suspicion away from himself, but why would he kill Peterman?”
“I don’t know.” I began to walk faster. “I think we need to go back to the beginning.”
“Okay.” Tony grabbed my hand. “But let’s slow down a bit.”
I slowed my pace and took a deep breath. “Let’s go back to when we found the body at the lake on Sunday afternoon. I know Mike said it looked as if he had been dead a day or two, which would make it possible for him to have been shot on Friday night, but it doesn’t seem likely he’d been floating in the lake for two days. Yes, it’s winter, and there aren’t a lot of folks spending time at or around the water, but it seems in two days’ time someone would have seen him.”
“So maybe he was killed on Friday night or Saturday morning but not dumped into the lake right away.”
“For that to happen, someone would have had to have somewhere to keep him. If someone like Hans Goober shot him on Friday night, it seems unlikely he could have hidden the body only to move it later. As I pointed out, it seems unlikely Goober could have moved him at all.”
I chewed on my lower lip as I continued to walk. Walking and thinking seemed to go together. “Do you remember if anyone other than Tom Flanders mentioned seeing Peterman return to the lake on Friday night?”
Tony didn’t answer right away. “No,” he finally answered. “I don’t think so. It was Flanders who first said he saw the truck at the house at around ten p.m., and it was he who told Holderman he saw him go to Goober’s cabin that same night.”
“Okay, so what if Peterman never came back to the lake? Say he picked up the key on Friday afternoon, came out to the house and cleaned it, then went into town for his dinner and drink. What if after leaving the bar he went somewhere else? What if he went to see someone who lived in the area where his truck was found?”
“If that was so and you think Flanders killed him, how would he even know he was there?” Tony asked.
“Flanders could have seen him at the bar and followed him, or…” My eyes grew wide. “Or,” I said as a new realization gripped me, “Peterman went to see his mistress after he left the bar and Flanders just happened to run into him there.”
Tony’s eyes grew large as well. “You think Peterman was having an affair with Flanders’s ex?”
“Maybe. If Flanders wasn’t really over her, he could conceivably have decided to stop by, or even just driven past her place. He saw Peterson’s truck there, so he waited for him to come out, then grabbed him and took him somewhere isolated and shot him. I don’t know where, or whether he kept him somewhere before he shot him, but I do think he probably didn’t dump him in the lake until Sunday.”
“That all makes sense. We need to call Holderman. If Tom Flanders is the jealous sort and he did find Doug Peterman and his ex-wife together, Doug might not be the only one on whom he took out his rage.”
After we returned to the house, I called Officer Holderman and explained my theory. He agreed to check on Tom Flanders’s ex and
then to stop by Conrad’s daughter’s to have a chat with Flanders as well. All we had to do was wait.
God, I hated waiting.
Chapter 12
Friday, November 23
“Oh, this one is perfect.” Bree clasped her hands together as she turned toward Mike, who carried the ax.
“You’re sure? Once I cut into this little tree, it’s yours.”
“I’m sure,” Bree said as she stepped aside to give Mike the room he’d need to cut down the tree we’d spent almost two hours selecting. “It’s tall but not too tall, and it’s narrow, so it won’t take up a lot of space. It has sturdy branches that are nicely spaced for the ornaments I plan to decorate with. It really is perfect.”
“Okay.” Mike swung back the ax, then met the trunk of the tree with the full force of his body.
It did my heart good to see Bree so happy. I mean really happy. She hadn’t always been lucky in love. In fact, up until she began dating Mike, her love life had been something of a disaster. But I could see she was great for Mike and Mike was great for her. I was sure this was the first of many Thanksgivings we’d all spend together.
“You know, maybe as long as we’re out here, I’ll go ahead and get one for the restaurant,” Mom said. “Just a small one. No more than five feet. And narrow, like Bree’s.”
I could see Mike was about to argue, so I jumped in. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, and I know just the tree.”
“You do?”
“We passed it an hour or so ago, but we’ll walk right by it on our way back to the house. It’s a cute little silver tip and I think you’ll love it.”
Mom smiled. “Oh, let’s do take a look. I love silver tips.”
I smiled back at my mom. “I know you do. I remember walking over almost every inch of the White Eagle National Forest looking for the perfect silver tip on more than one occasion.”
“How about you?” Bree asked as her tree toppled to the ground. “Do you want to get one too?”
I glanced at Tony. “No. Tony and I are going to wait to decorate the rest of his house and my cabin before we put up trees. Neither of us has a place of business to decorate, so I think we’re good. Besides, I’m freezing. I’m beginning to dream of the hot tub and a hot toddy.”
“That gets my vote,” Mike said, handing the ax to Bree so he could hoist up the tree onto his shoulder.
As we headed back to find the tree I was sure Mom would love, I looked back on the week that had featured so many highs and lows, I actually felt as if I had literally been riding a roller coaster. As it turned out, my theory about what had happened to Doug Peterson had been spot-on. He had been sleeping with Tom Flanders’s ex. In fact, he’d been sleeping with her since before she was Tom’s ex. When Flanders found them together, he was sure why his marriage had broken up. Unfortunately, the ex hadn’t fared Flanders’s rage any better than Peterson. Holderman had found her body in an ice fishing hut near his cabin, which was where he suspected Peterson’s body had been before it was dumped in the lake. Why Flanders had decided to do that, where it was sure to be found, we’d probably never understand. It seemed like a dumb move to me, but maybe he really did think he would be able to pin the murder on someone else, which might help to divert attention away from him once someone realized his ex was missing.
Whatever the reason, the end result was that Flanders was arrested and Goober was set free. I took him two huge plates of food last night and planned to take him another one today. In a way, the fact that the murder was related to Peterson’s catting around and not a government cover-up or secret treasure map seemed a bit anticlimactic, but Tony had been saying all along that the motive would end up being something fairly mundane, and he’d been right.
“I think Leonard has managed to get more snow frozen into his fur than there’s left in the forest.” Bree laughed.
“He does like to roll in the stuff,” I said. “We’ll need to dry him off and brush out the snow before we bring him in the house.”
“We should get Mom’s tree, then head back to get cleaned up if we still want to go to the festival in town,” Mike said.
“I’d like to go,” Bree said.
“Me too,” I agreed. “I need to drop a plate of food off for Hans Goober first, though. I said I would.” I glanced at Mom. “He loves your gravy so much, I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up at your doorstep with a proposal.”
Mom laughed. “Thanks, but I think I’ve had my fill of men who like to hang out alone at the lake. If I marry again, it will be someone who likes to stay close to home.”
I noticed Mike’s mouth tighten, but he didn’t say anything, so I started chatting about the wine tasting and how we might want to hire a cab to take us to and from town instead of driving. I wasn’t even sure there were any cabs up here at the lake, but Tony offered to look for an Uber, and offered to be the designated driver if we couldn’t find one.
******
“Mr. Goober, are you here?” I called out after knocking on his door later that afternoon. I’d waited a full minute and was about to walk away when he walked up behind me with his shotgun in one hand and something dead in a bag in the other. I decided I didn’t want to know. “I see you’ve been hunting.”
“Man’s gotta eat.”
“Maybe, but I brought you another plate of leftovers.”
“Extra gravy?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
“Well, come on in.” He opened a locker that was built into his deck and put whatever was in the bag inside before opening the front door and entering the small cabin. I handed him the plate of food. He licked his lips as he looked at the contents.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow. I thought I’d pack up whatever leftovers we have and bring them to you. If you have room in your refrigerator, that is.”
“I’ll make room. Your mama can cook.”
“She owns a restaurant at home, so she gets a lot of practice. If you’re ever in White Eagle, you should stop by. It’s called Sisters’ Diner.”
“For more of these potatoes and gravy, I just might make the trip.”
I glanced at my phone. “I really should go. The family’s waiting on me to head into town. I’ll be back with the rest tomorrow. Maybe at around ten.”
“Ten will work. I’ll clean out my refrigerator today.”
I turned to leave.
“Listen, before you go, I wanted to thank you for believing I was innocent of killing Doug, and for figuring out who the real killer was.”
“I was happy to help. Nothing bugs me more than an unsolved murder. Actually, I’m not a fan of an unsolved mystery of any sort.”
He grunted. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it seemed friendly enough.
“You’re a lot like him, you know.”
I paused. “A lot like who?”
“Your father. He was a good guy and a good friend to Finn. Nearly killed him when Finn was shot dead. I don’t know everything that went on at the time, but it seemed as if he blamed himself somehow.”
“Conrad Bilson said the same thing.”
“It was a sad time for everyone here. Finn was a real popular guy, and we all looked forward to Tuck’s annual visits. I heard Tuck died, but I think he really didn’t.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Saw him a while back. He was having a drink at a bar on Highway 90 just outside of Butte. Thought I saw a ghost, but I didn’t figure ghosts frequented bars, so I went up to him and said hi. Tuck looked as surprised to see me as I’d been to see him. I asked about what had happened to him, and he said it was complicated. He asked me not to say anything and I didn’t, until now.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I guess it might have been the summer before last.”
“Was he alone?”
He nodded. “He was sitting at the bar next to a man who was nursing a drink, but they didn’t seem to be together, although they did leave at the same time, so maybe.”
“Did he say anything else?” I wondered.
“Nope. Like I said, he didn’t seem real happy to see me. Anyway, I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
When I returned to the house, the others were ready and waiting for me. I plastered on a smile and launched into a conversation that I was certain would convince everyone other than Tony, perhaps, that a Christmas festival was the only thing on my mind. We hadn’t been able to hire a car, so Tony was driving. He was happy to play chauffeur so the rest of us could taste as much wine as we wanted.
I hadn’t been sure what to expect when I agreed to this first family vacation including Tony and Bree, but I’d actually had a good time. In a way, it was almost like Dad was there. Maybe not in person, but in spirit. Mom had wanted to come to the lake to find answers for unresolved questions, and I wasn’t sure she’d found them, but she seemed happy, the smile on her face authentic. Who knew, maybe we’d started a new Thomas family tradition of a week at the lake at Thanksgiving. Or maybe we hadn’t, but this week was one I’d always remember.
Chapter 13
Monday, November 26
“Morning, Hap.”
“Mornin’, Tess, Tilly. How was your trip?”
“Eventful.”
“Eventful good or eventful bad?”
“Both, actually. I had a nice time, but I’m happy to be back. It looks like you have your Christmas display up.”
“I have a whole lotta new gadgets if you’re looking for mechanical reindeer or twinkling tree lights that change color.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t think I’m in to the flash, but maybe some white lights for the tree to replace the ones the kittens destroyed last year. Oh, and some red balls. I’m hoping Tang and Tinder are old enough to leave the tree with some dignity this year.”