Ray looked through the sealed boxes of organic lettuce, noting the edges were less than crisp. He finally settled on a round container of bib, the blurb on the top purporting that the product within had survived the long trip from California. Next he examined the tomatoes, which were either green or starting to wither with age. The avocadoes were rock hard to the touch. Finally he found some pears, products of a South American summer. He thought the lettuce, pears, some walnuts, and the last bit of his stash of Stilton, combined with a dash of olive oil and lime balsamic vinegar would make an acceptable salad. Then he grabbed a package of fresh thyme and a bag of petite potatoes, checking first to see that the spuds hadn’t started to sprout like the ones in his refrigerator. He glanced at the rows of wine bottles and then his watch, deciding quickly to go with whatever he had at home. Finally he selected a baguette, a day old and damaged by time, but somewhat repairable with a few minutes in a hot oven.
Walking back toward his car, Ray felt like he was starting to move with greater ease. And once he was home, as he busied himself with the preparation of the meal, he forgot about his sore muscles.
By the time Sarah arrived, he’d made the salad and the potatoes were boiled and ready to go into the oven with the lamb. After a long hug, Ray said, “Glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. And there’s a special gift from Chicago for you,” she pointed at a square cardboard bakery box. “That wasn’t easy to get through security.”
“You do look a bit like the Unabomber,” said Ray, cutting through the tape and carefully opening the box. He peered at the tart, a fine lattice of pastry dividing individual raspberries, each one perfectly formed and ripe, nature’s beauty enhanced by a glistening glaze.
“I don’t think I can eat this,” said Ray in a joking tone.
“Why not?”
“It’s too beautiful. I think I’ll frame it.”
“I know you love raspberries, too bad they didn’t have thimbleberries. I got the tart at a highly recommended French bakery near my apartment building. Sorry about bringing day-old baked goods, but you do what you can do.”
“Your apartment, so much has happened. Tell me about it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about the job, the apartment, what your life is going to be like.” As the words slipped from his lips, Ray was starting to think about what his life would be like without Sarah living close by, a topic he had been avoiding thinking about since she first mentioned it a few days before. Over the last several months, Sarah had been with him through a difficult period of loss and physical injury, and Ray had started to assume that she would continue to become an increasingly important part of his life. But with this sudden change of jobs, everything was now in flux.
“So tell me about the job,” he said again, trying to make conversation.
“Don’t I get a glass of wine first?”
“I thought we’d start with one of Mawby’s sparkling wines,” said Ray, carefully removing the wire and foil, then covering the cork with a dish towel and carefully turning it until a controlled pop ended the process.
He filled two hollow-stemmed glasses, passed Sarah one, carefully grasped the second one and offered a toast, “Here’s to your new job.”
“Thank you,” she said, sipping the wine and setting the glass on the counter. “Where did you get these glasses? They are so delicate, and I love the art nouveau look.”
“They were a housewarming gift from Nora.”
“I should have known Nora was the source, they’re twice as big as any other champagne glasses.”
Ray continued, “She remembered how much I admired them over the years, and brought six glasses and a very good bottle of Champagne. She said she got the glasses 50 some years ago as a wedding present, from a grandmother or aunt. Nora said at her age she’d never be entertaining again at a level where she’d need a dozen champagne glasses, and I should enjoy them.”
Sarah picked up the bottle, looking at the scarlet label and gold lettering, “So clever, you men,” she commented.
There was a lull in the conversation. Ray noted an unnatural tension between them as he prepared the salad. “Tell me about the job,” he asked a third time, needing to fill the silence.
“The job is as described. It’s a management job. It will be very different.”
“How so?” Ray asked after he finished spinning the lettuce.
“As you know, at Leiston I do a bit of everything. That won’t be the case in the Chicago job. There I’m to coordinate the work of the support staff management team. Specialists are in place in the various support areas. My charge is to make everything in the office run smoothly so the lawyers get what they need. It’s all about improving their efficiency, billable hours, and opportunity to make money.”
“So what were you doing the last few days?”
“Friday I was on the plane at seven, got there at seven, and was in the office by eight central time. I was shown around and introduced to people, and I was wined and dined at lunch and dinner. I can’t imagine what the bill was at Charlie Trotters.
Yesterday morning I was offered a contract, and there was a little back and forth on the terms. The initial offer was incredibly generous, and the few extras I asked for were met. It’s such an adjustment coming from education,” she observed. “The secretaries at the firm make a lot more than the senior teachers at Leiston.”
Sarah refilled her glass and topped up Ray’s. “Then the firm’s concierge started to arrange things for me.”
“Concierge?”
“That’s not exactly her title, but that’s what she is, a smart young woman just out of Princeton; she’s taking a year or two off before she starts law school. She makes things happen for the partners so they can focus on law and not be bothered with travel plans, or concert tickets or…”
“So what did she do for you?”
“Phoebe, that’s her name, has studied what makes relocation difficult for people, and she helps with all those things. I now have suggestions for a new dentist, gynecologist, and internist. And I know where to get my hair and nails done. They’re all located close to the office and my apartment, which is furnished unless I want to move in my own things. I’m also clear on the unwritten dress code and what stores I should shop at. And she filled me in on lots of other things I should know to avoid possible problems.”
“Like what?”
“You know, Ray, sometimes I don’t really think that we have conversations. I feel like I’m being interrogated.”
He was silent for a long moment, thinking about what Sarah had just said and how she had said it. “I’m just interested in your life,” he said, defensively. In the months he had known Sarah, he had never heard her use that tone of voice before.
“Phoebe was telling me things I needed to know, environmental factors, like who to avoid—the office neurotics, lechers, and crazies. And then we spent some time at the apartment. Phoebe is coordinating the move.”
Ray made thin slices from the baguette he had just pulled from the oven and arranged them on a plate around a ramekin with a smoked salmon and cream cheese spread he’d found in the back of the refrigerator. Sarah took some more champagne, pausing to see how much the bottle contained.
“I remember you telling me about the apartment, but I don’t remember the details. And I apologize if you’ve told me before. Things are sort of hazy. I was on some medication.”
“It’s two blocks from the office. It’s great, fourteenth floor, unrestricted view of the lake.”
“And why are they…?”
“They want me close to the office. Depending on what’s going on, like some of the lawyers being in trial, some members of the support staff often work nights and weekends. It’s my job to coordinate that, even fill in if needed.”
Ray had several questions. Would she be able to come north for weekends, could he visit her in Chicago? He held back. “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked. “It wi
ll be about twenty minutes after I put the lamb in the oven.”
“Go ahead. Food would be good. I think the champagne is getting to me,” she answered, excusing herself and heading off to the guest bathroom.
Ray slid the two racks of lamb ribs that had been marinating in olive oil and fresh rosemary into the oven and set the timer. He retrieved a meat thermometer from a drawer and placed it on the counter near the oven. Then he took a sip of his champagne and reflected on his conversation with Sarah. Thus far there had been no mention of how he might fit into her new life.
Ray watched Sarah return to the room holding something in her right hand. He could tell by her expression and body language, something was very wrong. She lifted her hand so Ray could see a delicate material in a leopard skin pattern. “To whom do these belong?” she asked.
“What do you have?” he asked innocently.
“They seem to be long johns, silk, women’s.” She held them out and looked at the label. “In a petite.”
“Where did you find them?”
“Hanging in the bath over the shower bar.”
“I have no idea,” Ray said. He could see his response only further enflamed the situation. And then he put things together. “Oh, those.”
“Oh, those,” she responded in a mocking tone.
“I went kayaking with a doctor from the hospital yesterday. She changed out of her drysuit before she left and must have tossed them there and forgotten them.”
“So here is a man who’s been hospitalized for passing out, perhaps related to a horrific event, and two days later he’s off kayaking with a leopard-skin clad woman. Ray Elkins, you have remarkable recuperative powers.”
“Let me explain….”
“And I’m really tired. I need to go home.”
“How about the dinner I’ve prepared. The lamb is almost done.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“You should have some food. You’ve had a lot of champagne.”
“I’m okay,” she said, gathering up her things.
Ray watched the door close behind her. The timer on the oven sounded.
17.
Ray was adding information to his whiteboard diagram when Sue entered his office a little after eight on Monday morning.
“I came by your place to pick you up, but I could tell by the tracks in the snow you had already left. So much for doctor’s orders.”
“How was Grand Rapids?” Ray asked.
“I trust you kicked back Saturday afternoon and yesterday and got some rest.”
“Absolutely. How was Grand Rapids?” he asked a second time.
“Brenda Manton, following her relatives instructions, will be pulled off a respirator sometime today.”
“Tell me about her family.”
“I met both brothers and their wives and her mother. Good people, smart, very solid. Brenda was probably the outlier, the artsy one in a family of professionals. That said, from my conversations with them I sensed that they respected what she did. They all seem to be high-performing people, and the more I learn about her, she seems to fit that mold also.”
“Did you learn anything from them that might help us find her assailant?”
“No, not really. I talked to them at length, and I didn’t sense that anyone was holding anything back. For them this violence was unfathomable. They couldn’t imagine how this happened.”
“Did you learn anything more about Brenda?”
“I’m not sure how much they know about her. I didn’t sense that they were estranged, but neither were they close. They are all busy people pursuing their own lives. Her mother told me that Brenda came down for a couple of days at Christmas. She also said that she would see Brenda often during the summer. They have a family cottage on Glen Lake where her mother spends most weekends during the summer. If there are any dark secrets in Brenda’s life, her siblings and mother are probably not aware of them.”
“Did you find a home for Simone?”
“I took her along—she loves car rides. I told them that she was in the car and that I had been looking after her, and she was a wonderful dog. They didn’t show any interest in taking Simone.” Sue paused for a moment. “I don’t know if I have time for a dog, but we’re starting to bond.”
“So what are the plans now? A funeral, memorial service?”
“They are talking about a memorial service next summer at their cottage. And this is where it gets quite interesting. Our Molly was there, and so was Elise Lovell who helped Brenda on the church project. I think that they came together. Molly, who had mostly been in the background trying to be supportive and helpful, got rather animated over this issue. She wants them to have a service for Brenda at that new big-box church down at the end of the county, the church that replaced Reverend Tim’s Freewill Bikers Bible Church or whatever it was called.”
“As I remember it,” said Ray, “the complete name was the Freewill Bible Synod of God, the Only True Followers of Jesus or something close to that. The Jesus loves Bikers was just tacked onto the original sign.”
“Yes, that’s the place. What do you know about the new building or church?”
“Not much,” Ray answered. “I haven’t talked to Reverend Tim in awhile. I heard that someone with deep pockets bought his church and was building a new church, and that somehow Reverend Tim is still involved. So what does Molly want the family to do? I don’t understand.”
“This is the interesting part,” said Sue. “Seems Brenda’s last major commission was working on the interior of the new church. Molly was trying to convince Brenda’s family that having a memorial service at the new church would be just wonderful because the walls are covered with Brenda’s most recent and best work. She went on and on about the great minister there.”
Ray looked incredulous.
“Molly’s not really your type,” Sue said to Ray.
“Where did that come from?” asked Ray.
“I don’t know. I saw a lot more of her in Grand Rapids than ever before. She’s pretty ditzy. I’m remembering how you responded to her when she wouldn’t get to the point.” She paused. “Let me explain, and first I have to say that you are enormously accepting and non-judgmental. It’s just that I’ve observed that some personality types bug you. And watching Molly with Brenda’s mother and brothers, well she started to bug me too. She was just too aggressive. And her thinking is scattered and illogical.
“On the drive back I was thinking about our talks with her and your feeling that she was holding a lot back, that she wasn’t really being honest with us. I’m with you on that, especially now. And the way she was pushing for this memorial service at the Freewill Whatever was totally inappropriate. She was obnoxious.”
“So how did it end up?” asked Ray.
“I left before any decision had been made.”
“Was Elise Lovell a participant in this discussion?”
“Not really. She didn’t say much and seemed rather embarrassed by Molly’s behavior,” Sue answered.
“We need to talk to Elise,” said Ray. “And we need to find out about Brenda’s work at this church. Maybe there’s some connection there.” Ray pointed at the whiteboard, and then pulled a marker off the tray below the board.
“We know so little about Brenda or her links to the community. And we’re going forward on the assumption that she knew her killer. But, as you know, we always have to keep in mind that this could have been a random event. Who knew a single woman was living alone in the middle of a forest? Look at the possibilities. The UPS and FedEx guys, the propane delivery driver, a snowmobiler that she chased off her property, a construction worker from…”
“And then there’s the arson bit,” Sue suggested.
“Do you have a report yet?”
“I’ve got an email from Mike Ogden confirming what we already know. A large quantity of gasoline was poured around the interior of her house and ignited. Mike thinks about four or five gallons.”
“How about the sn
owplow?”
“Same there, the accelerant was also gasoline. And he also noted something I missed,” said Sue.
“What was that?”
“The cap was pulled off the fuel tank. Mike speculated that the perp poured gasoline into the tank to make sure the diesel got ignited too, like they wanted to make sure the fire completely destroyed the truck. He found the fuel cap in the snow and took it back to the lab to check for prints.”
“Anything?”
“No.” Sue looked at the board. “What’s our plan?”
“I need to do some paperwork to keep this department running. That should take about an hour. Jan has all the work organized, I just need to read and sign. Then I’d like to find out more about this church and Brenda’s work there. So let’s start with Reverend Tim and get him to show us around and introduce us to the new preacher. If there’s still some light left, we take a hike in the woods and look for Tristan Laird.”
• • •
“Wouldn’t it be easier and faster to take a couple of snowmobiles? We could cover a lot of ground quickly. I could have Brett meet us with the sleds.”
“If this guy is as skittish as Molly says, he’ll hear us coming. Let’s take skis and snowshoes and make a decision on what to use when we get there.”
“You really hate snowmobiles,” opined Sue.
Ray let her comment slide. “And then let’s try to talk to Molly again this evening. She’s on tonight?”
“I’ll check. She would normally start at eleven. I’ll see if she will come in at ten.”
“That should be enough time. For tomorrow, let’s interview Elise Lovell. And would you organize someone to do a canvassing of anyone who might have had contact with Manton. It’s pretty sparse out there, but maybe she knew some of her neighbors. And who were the delivery and service people she might have had contact with?”
“I’ll have Brett do that. It’ll be a good learning experience for him.”
“Okay, we’ve got a plan of sorts. Let’s try to get out of here by ten.”
After Sue left, Ray returned to his paperwork. His efforts were quickly interrupted by his cell phone ringing. Sarah’s face came on the screen.
Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice Page 8