Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice

by Aaron Stander

  “You’ve talked about this before, but would you tell us again the history of your relationship with Tristan.”

  “Well, like I probably said, we were in the same class at Leiston School. But the three of us were special friends. There was something a bit off with Tristan, but you know how kids are. They are so accepting. Years later Brenda said she thought Tristan had a form of autism, what did she call it. Starts with an “a” I think.”

  “Asperger’s Syndrome?” asked Sue.

  “That sounds right. But I don’t think it’s really such a big thing. And he went off to college and did okay. It was after college, that’s when he got hurt. He fell when he was rock climbing and got a closed-head injury. And that’s when he sorta wigged out totally and got just a bit too strange.”

  “How did you two become the people with special responsibility for Tristan?

  “After he got out of the hospital and rehabilitation, he came up here. Over the years Brenda had gotten to know his family. But by then both of his parents were gone. He was a very late child. I remember when his parents came to Leiston for graduation, they were like the age of everyone else’s grandparents.” Molly paused, “Let’s see, where was I?”

  “Tristan ending up here,” Ray prompted.

  “Yes. I think he wanted to be near us. Brenda and I were his special friends. His brother and sister both live in Connecticut, they are much older, and I think they were just as happy not to have him move close to them.”

  “But they provide for him financially?”

  “Yes, and I don’t quite understand how it all works, if there’s a trust fund from his parents or what, but things like the tax bills on the property or any kind of insurance payments are taken care of by a law office out east. And Brenda had a checking account where she could pay for things around here and give him cash when he needed some.”

  “Why not give him a debit card?”

  “He’s sort of spooked by banks. Like I keep telling you, Tristan isn’t normal.”

  “But he was around a lot?”

  “Yes, and you never know when he will pop up. We used to joke about him being our special stalker.”

  “But as far as you know he wasn’t at Brenda’s the night of the assault?”

  “I don’t think he was in the building. Although in the dead of winter he would sometimes crash with her on and off. He might have been in the woods nearby and seen all the activity, or he might have drifted through a day or two later. What you have to understand is that he’s so sensitive. I mean, it’s sort of spooky. He senses things that normal humans miss. Now he knows something awful has happened, and he’s probably terrified.”

  “Molly, if he were around that evening, and he saw something, he could help us crack this case. Is there some way you could help us make contact with him?”

  Molly looked thoughtful. “It’s not as simple as that. He would find Brenda and me when he wanted something.”

  “Wouldn’t he need cash? Won’t he be coming to you soon?”

  “I don’t know. He can live a long time on his own. He can get by just on hunting and fishing. In the early winter, once we’ve got a good snowpack, he collects road kill, deer. He follows a county plow that comes through this one area that he watches before dawn, about four in the morning. He says most days he can find a fresh kill. He says the meat is still warm when he butchers it, then he stashes it in the wild.” Molly looked over at Ray, “That’s not illegal, is it?”

  “There are some procedures the DNR would like people to follow,” Ray answered.

  Molly looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get logged in pretty soon, guys.”

  “So you have no way of contacting him?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Sheriff, and you just don’t seem to get it. I don’t know where he is or how to get to him. If I did, I would tell you. I want to find out who did this and get the bastard behind bars or dead.”

  “One more question?” said Ray.

  “Sure,” Molly responded, getting to her feet.

  “Did Brenda have a laptop computer?”

  Molly was slow in responding. “I think so, I mean, everyone does.”

  “But you don’t remember clearly seeing her with one.”

  “Like I said, they just seem to be part of everyone’s life these days. Is there anything else?’ Molly asked, her tone bordering on hostility.

  “No, I think that’s all for now,” said Ray. He followed her to the door and closed it after her.

  “Do we ever learn much from her?” asked Ray.

  “Only what she wants us to know,” said Sue. “But at least you got a little affect this time. You need to get home and get some sleep. As I remember it, you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. And I suspect that I should drive you to make it look as though you are following the doctor’s orders.”

  “I’m feeling fine, and I’ve got too much to do.”

  “As I remember it, your appointment is at eight.”

  “We’ve got to get our hands on Tristan.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Sue asked.

  “Well, we could go in fast on snowmobiles, have someone cover the far end of the zip line, and send someone up there the way Tristan gets up there.”

  “I can tell when you are really tired. Proposing to use a blitzkrieg approach to go after someone. Didn’t you just explain how a snowmobile would spook him? And how many times have you lectured me on the insensitivity of law enforcement in dealing with mental patients? And you’re grumpy again.”

  “What would you suggest?”

  “We don’t even know if he’s there. So why don’t we go out there again for a look. We will bring Brett Carty with us. He is a climber. Almost every weekend lately when he’s off, he’s up in the U.P. ice climbing at Pictured Rocks. Tomorrow, after your doctor’s appointment and our interview with Elise Lovell, we’ll go out there again.”

  “And for what it’s worth, I’ll write a note to Tristan explaining the situation—you get to edit it. Maybe we should even leave a cell phone.”

  “Cell phone,” repeated Ray, “that’s an interesting idea.”

  23.

  Sue had delivered Ray to his morning doctor’s appointment a few minutes before eight. He was settling into a chair in an examining room after having his temperature and blood pressure taken by Saul Feldman’s nurse, when she told him that the doctor was running late. Ray wanted to ask how Saul could be running late with the first appointment of the day, but he held his tongue. And, in fact, Feldman wasn’t too late, but the appointment took longer than Ray had anticipated with Feldman explaining the results from tests, and presenting several theories as to why Ray had blacked out. Feldman also gave him a lecture on the need for more rest and a regular exercise program.

  Ray had been back at his office for a few minutes when his secretary, Jan, was at the door with Elise Lovell. Both women were redheads, but Jan’s hair was more the natural color, although she had been joking for years that she had been aiding nature. Elise’s hair, abundant, running beyond her shoulders, was a rich dark red, not a natural color, but very attractive against her complexion.

  Elise was dressed in the same style as when Ray had first met her during the investigation of Lynne Boyd’s shooting. She was clad in bright colors in what looked liked natural fabrics. Ray remembered her jaunty style and keen intellect. He also remembered her great precision in characterizing Dirk Lowther. She had mirrored Ray’s feelings for Lowther, emotions he knew he had never articulated with such great accuracy.

  Shortly after Elise was seated, Sue arrived with a pot of fresh coffee and pulled up a chair.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Ray, pouring coffee.

  “I’m happy to help, Sheriff. Brenda was an amazing person. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her.”

  “Well, first, Ms. Lovell…”

  “Please call me Elise,” she interrupted. Ray noted her warm tone, her voice unusually deep for a w
oman. He also became aware of her perfume, subtle and very feminine.

  “Elise,” said Ray, starting again and feeling a bit uncomfortable. “Would you please provide us with some background on the nature of your friendship with Brenda Manton?”

  “Certainly, I’ve known Brenda for years. I met her soon after my husband and I moved up here. I was just getting into spinning and dying back then. And Brenda was just beginning to move her art in that direction. She wasn’t buying much locally then. She was looking for exotics in color and texture, and there was nothing like that produced here. When she found out about my background, she pushed me to develop my knowledge and skills in a new direction.”

  “Your background, would you talk about that?” asked Sue.

  “I’m a chemist by training. I had a real interest in organic chemistry. Brenda got me to develop an expertise in natural fibers, especially wool, and in natural dyes. Initially I was just experimenting with materials I was using in my own knitting and weaving. Then I started sharing my yarns with friends, mostly trading out for wool and eggs and things. And then Brenda would come to me looking for specific colors. She would have these as part of a design, and she would generate the color on her computer and ask me if I could find something in nature that would generate that same hue.”

  “And you were able to?” asked Ray, filling a silence.

  “Usually. I had a whole lot to learn about natural dyes and how they interact with different types of fibers. It turned out to be a lot of work, but it was incredibly interesting.”

  Ray was watching Elise’s eyes as she talked. He wondered if they were really that green, or if their color was enhanced by her contact lenses.

  “So you provided materials to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was this just a business relationship, or did you develop a friendship as well?”

  “Interesting question, Sheriff. I looked on Brenda as a friend, and I assumed she felt the same about me. That said, she was one of the most work-oriented people I’ve ever met. She was always on task. Before meeting Brenda I didn’t fully appreciate what the term ‘workaholic’ meant. That really describes her. She was all about her art. Relationships were down the list a bit.”

  Ray glanced down at some notes he had made in preparation for the interview. “Did she ever mention fears about personal safety?”

  “Never.”

  “Was Brenda in a relationship?” asked Sue.

  “Not that I was aware of,” Elise paused. “You know, I’ve never thought about it before, but I’m not sure we ever talked about men or relationships. Our conversations were focused on art and work.”

  “Did you visit Brenda at her home?”

  “Yes, many times. She would show me early drafts of designs she was developing. She would have colors in mind and would want my counsel on whether it would be possible to produce yarns in those colors. She would go through this elaborate process of massaging her sketches to reflect what was possible with different dyes and fibers. Brenda was amazing, she was always pushing the boundaries of her art. That’s why her work is so exceptional.”

  “When you visited her, was it just the two of you?”

  “Yes, most of the time. Occasionally there was a strange character that she has some sort of custodial responsibility for.”

  “You’re referring to Tristan?”

  “Yes. I am enormously tolerant of eccentricity, but I found him a bit too weird.”

  “Was there something about his manner that you found threatening?” asked Sue.

  “No, it wasn’t that. He just seemed creepy. He was always lurking about. He wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t meet your eyes. He made me uncomfortable.”

  “Did Brenda have a notebook computer?”

  “Well, she did most of her work on a Mac, it was a big system, you know those tower kind of computers. But I think she had a notebook, too. In fact, I’m sure she did. I saw her showing some sketches to a client on a job recently.”

  “Where was that?” asked Ray.

  “It’s a church interior. She did a series of panels for them. It was a major piece of work.”

  “And you supplied the materials?”

  “Many of them. I’ve really had to up my production to meet her needs for materials. And it’s been very helpful for us. My husband’s been working as a finish carpenter, and he’s been getting very little work. Brenda’s need for large quantities of specialty materials has been a real help to our family’s economy.”

  “Let me ask you again. Brenda never shared with you that she was apprehensive about anything?”

  “No.” She paused for a long moment. “This is a long reach, she joked about the creep that plowed her out in the winter. Like he wanted to get some kind of trade out going for the plowing.”

  “So you went with her to visit The Church for the Next Millennium?”

  “Yes, she said I had to see this place and meet the minister, Rod Gunne. I thought she was kidding about the name.”

  “What did you think?” asked Ray.

  “Well, he’s got a lot of money to spend on art, that’s a good thing.”

  “Did he hustle you?” asked Sue.

  “No.”

  “How about Brenda?”

  “I don’t think so. If he did, she never shared it with me. Is there anything else, Sheriff?”

  “We’re looking for someone who might have a motive to hurt Brenda Manton. Do you have anything that might help us?”

  “I’ve told you what I know. I wish there were more. Other than that friend of hers, maybe the guy totally flipped out.”

  “Here is my card,” said Sue, sliding it across the table.

  • • •

  Ray was making notes at his computer when Sue returned from walking Elise out.

  “What did we learn?” he asked.

  “Nothing startling.”

  “Yes,” he responded.

  “But I think you really like the crunchy granola type.”

  “What are you taking about?” asked Ray.

  “She’s a very pretty women, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you give anyone such rapt attention. And she knew she had it, too. It was fun for me to watch the dynamic.”

  “Is Brett ready for our expedition this afternoon?” Ray asked, changing the subject.

  “He’s totally geeked. I told him how Tristan gets his rope in place. Brett is bringing a throwing line and a slingshot.”

  “Everything else ready?”

  “The things we talked about last night. I have a one-page letter soliciting Tristan’s help and a cell phone programmed to call my phone. I have them sealed together in a weatherproof bag. If he’s phobic about ATMs, he’s probably afraid of cell phones, too.”

  “We do what we can,” Ray responded. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  24.

  Ray, Sue, and Brett shared in transporting the climbing gear, each carrying part of it in a backpack. They started their trek into the deep forest in brilliant sunshine, a sharp contrast from a long string of gray days. Ray felt almost guilty to be buoyed by the weather.

  They followed the path they made the day before, still clearly visible, although covered by a dusting of new snow. They moved quietly through the woods, no chatter between them, maintaining an interval of twenty yards.

  Ray led the way, taking the first turn at breaking the trail. He settled into a comfortable rhythm with the snowshoes and poles moving forward in an almost mechanical precision. From time to time he would stop and listen—only the sound of wind high in the trees and the distant cawing of crows. As they neared their destination, a Coast Guard helicopter came over low and fast heading toward the big lake, the slapping of its blades and the roar of its engine shattering the near silent forest. Ray stood and waited for several minutes, until the sound was little more than a distant echo, then pushed forward again.

  Ray was still several hundreds yard from their destination when he had a sense of foreboding. And afterward, when he
ran the tape of his memories again, he couldn’t find a hint of what put him on edge.

  The air was crisp, the sky clear, and the snow a pristine blanket, individual crystals sparkling like diamonds on the rolling terrain. Ray stopped, signaling the others to do the same. He stood for several minutes, catching his breath and listening as he surveyed the landscape. Again, just the wind high in the trees, the conifers gently swaying, the maples and ash bare and still months away from new plumage, the oaks clinging to a few leathery-brown remnants of last year’s foliage.

  He slowly started forward again, his senses keen to any sound or movement. Ray was almost to the base of the tree when he first noticed the blood, a splattering pattern on the perimeter, a pooling at the center, crimson against white on the snow directly under the tree house. He stopped and gazed at the structure above. He pulled a pair of compact binoculars from an inner pocket and glassed the branches and underside of the nest. He could see the congealed liquid glistening on the branches, frozen droplets shaped by the gravitational pull, poised for their flight to earth.

  He signaled for his colleagues to come forward.

  “Oh my God!” said Sue as she stood at Ray’s side and observed the scene.

  “Looks like someone heard your joke.”

  Brett joined them and stood silently.

  “What do we do now?” asked Sue.

  “Got your camera?”

  “Yes,” Sue answered. She pulled off her pack and retrieved a camera from the interior. Ray and Brett held their positions as she carefully recorded the scene.

  “Where do you think the shooter stood?”

  “Here or a few feet back up the trail. The three of us probably marched over their tracks,” Ray answered.

  Ray turned to Brett, “Can you climb up there and see what’s happened?”

  “No problem.”

  “Anything we need to protect down here?” Ray asked Sue.

  “No, I don’t think so. We should search for brass, but we can do that later. Brett, take some rubber gloves. Once you’re up there we’ll figure out how to go forward without disturbing the scene.”