“Lisa, no one was talking about our carbon footprint,” retorted Marc.
Ray helped Lisa clear away the appetizer plates as Marc plated the main course, pieces of poached steelhead with a delicate sauce and green beans, carefully steamed to ensure the best color and retain a bit of crispiness.
Lisa poured wine from a freshly opened bottle into clean glasses. Once they were settled at the table again, Ray asked Nora, “Do you know anything about a man called Tristan Laird?”
“Who?” asked Nora, after swallowing her first bite of fish.
“Tristan Laird,” repeated Ray.
“Why should I know him?” she asked.
“He is a man who’s probably in his late 30s. It has been reported that he often camps out in the National Shoreline or in the woods adjacent to the park.”
“Maybe he’s the son of Lorna of the dunes.”
“Who? Isn’t she a character in a Victorian novel?” asked Ray.
“No Ray, not Lorna Doone, Lorna of the dunes,” said Nora, with obvious amusement. “It was a while back, maybe before your time. Late 50s, early 60s, but it was all the buzz one season. That’s all the summer people talked about. It was a great story. Some young woman, supposedly a graduate of one of those girls’ schools back east, when there were still girls’ schools, had gone native. People would talk about seeing her on the beach, dressed in animal skins, her Phi Beta Kappa key glistening in the sunshine.”
“Any truth to it?” asked Lisa.
“I don’t think so,” answered Nora. “Hugh and I spent so much time wandering the beaches and canoeing along the shore, if Lorna had been there we would’ve seen her. It was a good story, folks had a lot of fun talking about her, and by the next summer they’d forgotten her. I’ve got to say, it was a lot more fun than all of this chatter about the cougar that I’ve never seen.”
“So you don’t think you’ve ever seen Tristan Laird? He’s supposed to do a lot of kayaking, even in the winter.”
“I thought you were the only one nutty enough to kayak out beyond the shelf ice. No, Ray, I don’t think I can help you with that one. Lots of strange people wander past my place all year long. But I don’t know any Tristan Laird.”
“Have you noticed anything strange tonight?” said Marc, directing his question to Ray.
“What do you mean?” asked Ray.
“I told Lisa that I would take her to Key West for a week if she could get through an entire meal without asking you about your latest investigation,” said Marc.
“We’re not even at dessert yet,” said Lisa. “Why did you bring it up?”
“It’s wonderful spending several hours not talking about it,” said Ray. “Tell me about this thimbleberry tart,” he said, moving the conversation away from the investigation.
35.
Way before first light the next morning, Monday, Ray was wide-awake. The relaxed feelings he had experienced the previous evening were gone. He was tense, he needed some answers, and he needed to get the investigation moving forward.
He was able to spend several hours at the office very productively before the business of the day got started. He was always amazed by the amount of paperwork required, even in a very small police agency.
A few minutes after 9 a.m., Sue arrived, County Commissioner Mike McFarland in tow.
“What’s going on, Sheriff,” McFarland demanded. “Your deputy here had me on the phone just after seven. In the winter I try to sleep in. What’s so important?”
“Have a seat,” directed Ray. “I need to talk to you about Richard Kinver.”
“What’s the problem?” Mike McFarland asked, his tone hostile. He took off his heavy brown canvas jacket, dropped it on the back of a chair, and settled across from Ray at the conference table. He was wearing a green flannel shirt and red suspenders.
“Last week you told Sue that you and Kinver were in Lansing together. Isn’t that what you told her?” said Ray motioning toward Sue.
“Yeah, that’s what I told her. Something wrong with that.”
“So you’re telling me that you were with Kinver all evening that night?”
“Well, more or less. The meeting ran late, then we went back to the motel.”
“Were you two sharing a room?”
“No,” answered McFarland.
“Did you see Kinver the next morning?” asked Ray.
“No, Richard is an early riser. I like to sleep in. He was probably on the road before I got up.”
“But you told my deputy, that you were with Richard. You didn’t say anything about not seeing him the next morning. In fact, as I understand it, you gave her the distinct impression that you were with Richard on Wednesday and Thursday.”
“I was with him all day Wednesday, and he was staying Wednesday night. What’s the diff?”
“Here is the diff,” said Ray. “We found a burned-out Chevy pickup truck early Saturday morning. There was a body inside, burned beyond recognition. When we ran the plates the vehicle belonged to Richard Kinver. We won’t have a positive identification on the body until later today, but assuming that it’s the body of Richard Kinver, where he has been recently and what he was doing has become very important. His name has come up several times in the case of the assault and murder of Brenda Manton. Kinver used you as an alibi, and we accepted your word.”
Ray and Sue sat in icy silence, letting the news of Kinver’s death soak in. Finally McFarland spoke, “It was no big deal.”
“What’s no big deal?” asked Ray.
“Well, before we parted for the night, Richard said, ‘If anyone ever asks, I was here all night.’ And then he went on and said something to the effect that you never know when you have to make a run.”
“What’s all that about?” asked Ray.
“It was sort of a code,” said McFarland. “I’ve been hanging out with Richard since we were in second grade together. By the time we’re in high school, he always had a steady girlfriend and a couple of other girls on the side. When he was heading off to spend time with someone other than his main girlfriend, he’d always say, ‘I got to make a run.’ That was the code. He didn’t change over the years, he had wives and he had girlfriends. He often used me for cover. He’d tell me he was making a run just in case his wife called.”
“So you lied to the wife?” asked Sue.
“No, I just knew not to answer the phone.”
“So who are these women?” asked Ray.
“Well, I assumed the run Wednesday night had to do with someone in Grand Rapids. But there were lots of gals. He was always doing favors for women. Plowing drives, dropping off a pickup load of firewood. It was sort of a trade-off.” McFarland paused for a minute, “It wasn’t just local women, he also had something going with some of the cottagers. Some women are up here all summer, mostly alone. He’d strike up an acquaintance when he was delivering topsoil or bark or laying down new gravel on a drive. He just had this knack for knowing who might be interested.” McFarland paused again and looked thoughtful for a long moment. “I guess today you’d say he had some kind of sex addiction, that he needs some kind of therapy. But, hell, it was really no big thing. No one was getting hurt. Just people being people. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You said that you and Richard have been friends since elementary school. What’s been going on in his life recently? Is it possible that he was suicidal? Do you have any reason to believe that someone might have wanted him dead?” asked Sue.
“Like most of us, things have been rough for Richard the last couple of years. There ain’t been hardly no work, he’s had to give up or sell off his best equipment, what he’s got left is mostly junk. And I know he’s been borrowing money on the yard and gravel pit. He’s pretty much got his back against the wall. Thank God he had his county commissioner’s salary and the health insurance.
“But going back to your question. There is no way that Richard would ever kill himself. Not a chance. He would figure out some way to keep going. Sheriff,
that body found in the truck, if it’s Richard’s body, he was murdered. You can take that to the bank.”
“What’s going on with his marriage? I heard he was getting a divorce.”
“That’s old news, Ray. His wife left town with someone she met at Art’s Tavern. Suppose to have a house on Big Glen and another one in Arizona, Florida, someplace. I hear the guy’s old enough to be her grandfather.”
“Is the divorce through?” asked Sue.
“I don’t know that. He never said. I never could see why he bothered to get married, anyhow. And Cindy, that’s the one we’re talking about, was a big part of his current money problems. He did everything he could to keep her happy, and when the money was gone, she was, too.”
“Mike, did Richard say or do anything that might suggest that he was in trouble or afraid?” asked Ray.
“No. He was just the same old Richard. If there was something really wrong, he didn’t share with me.”
“Brenda Manton,” said Sue, “Did he ever mention her to you?”
“That’s the woman that got killed a couple weeks back?”
“Yes,” said Sue.
“He did a lot of work for her last year or the year before. Excuse my French ma’am, but he was always telling me about the great tits she had. He also joked about her, he thought all this green building stuff was a bunch of malarkey.”
“Do you think that anything happened between them?” asked Ray.
“No, I don’t think so. He hasn’t talked about her in months.”
“I saw one of Richard’s end loaders at the new church off of 22. Had Richard gotten religion or was that just a job?” asked Ray.
“Like I was saying, I’ve known Richard for decades. And I’ve never seen him involved in religion, let alone going to church. But it’s true, he started going there sometime last spring. Go figure. And he wanted me to come with him for services. Several times he tried to talk me into it. I think we parted ways on that one.”
“What was the attraction for him?” asked Sue.
“It was kind of crazy that. He was telling me that God or Jesus, I could never figure out which, wanted him to be rich, and if he could just settle down and get some focus things would turn around in his life. Now I was brought up Catholic, and I can’t say I’m religious, but I know that isn’t right,” said McFarland.
“Do you know if Richard developed a friendship with the minister up there, Rod Gunne?” asked Sue.
“Can’t say for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” said McFarland. “All I can tell you is that I haven’t seen him around much this winter. Usually we do a lot of ice fishing and hanging out, but not this year. In the past when Richard was real scarce, it was ’cause there was a new woman. I just thought that was the case.”
“Mike, can you think of anyone who would want to murder Richard?” asked Ray.
“Richard, he was a friend of everyone. I don’t know what else to tell you, Ray.”
“How about husbands and boyfriends of some of the women Richard was seeing?” asked Sue.
“Well, there’s that, isn’t there? I think Richard was pretty smart about that. For his girlfriends he seemed to pick women that didn’t want any entanglements either. He always referred to that as his ‘sport fucking.’ It was just an event, nothing more.”
“Do you know where Richard was living? We heard he had lost his house,” said Sue.
“Well, last I heard he was staying in an old house trailer they have up at the yard. Must have been quite a comedown from the place on the lake. That was something. I could never figure out how he swung that.”
“We’re going to need your help, Mike. First, we need you not to say anything about this conversation or the fact that Richard is dead. We have to confirm his identity and notify next of kin. We will probably have that done by late afternoon. Then, we need you to think about anything that might be useful in our investigation. Make some notes, give us a call, stop by and talk.”
“I’ll do that, Ray. I’ll do that. I can’t believe he’s dead. It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Before you go,” said Sue, “What can you tell me about his family?”
McFarland didn’t answer immediately. He pulled at his ear and then looked back at Sue, “Not much, the old folks have been gone a long time, his parents passed in recent years. He was an only child. He used to talk about cousins downstate somewhere, that’s all I know.”
36.
When Sue returned to Ray’s office after walking Mike McFarland out to his car, Ray was busy at his keyboard, converting his penciled notes from several sheets of a legal pad to a word-processing file.
“That was interesting,” said Sue.
“Yes,” agreed Ray. “But what did we learn? Give me 10 or 15 minutes to type this up and then we can go through it and see if we heard the same things and if there’s anything we can use.”
“Okay. Can I get you some fresh coffee?”
Ray made a face. “How about just filling my water bottle?
“Sure,” Sue responded, plucking his aluminum bottle off the desk before heading out. A few minutes later she returned. “There’s been a break-in at the West Shore Village Medical Clinic. Jake is at the scene. The staff arrived this morning to find the place torn apart. Jake says it appears that access was gained by cutting through the roof. He’s trying to keep people away so I can have access to the scene before it’s completely disrupted. He’s having trouble with a doc. The guy has patients waiting and Jake describes his behavior as belligerent and uncooperative. I think I should get over there asap.”
“We’ll talk on the way,” said Ray. “I want to meet this physician.”
“How so?” asked Sue.
“I’ll explain on the way.”
• • •
Ray settled into the passenger seat as Sue sped toward the scene.
“You’re getting quite comfortable being chauffeured about,” Sue observed.
“Yes,” agreed Ray. “I don’t know why I insisted on being the driver all my adult life. It’s really nice to sit and look around and have time to think without concentrating on the road.”
“You were going to tell me about the physician that’s giving Jake a hard time?”
“Yes, and I don’t even know if it’s the same person, but Hannah Jeffers, the cardiologist, told me one of the reasons she came to this area was at the urging of an old love interest from college or medical school.”
“Are you seeing her?” Sue asked. “Hannah Jeffers.”
“Let me finish what I was telling you.” Ray grumped. “Hannah said over the years they had both changed a lot and the relationship came to an end after they had dinner one evening with Rod Gunne. She said her friend, I think she said his name was Bob, was very taken with Gunne and his theology of wealth. Now here’s my point, Sue, two weeks ago I had never heard of Rod Gunne. Since then he just keeps popping up.”
“Funny how that happens, isn’t it? And Jeffers, going back to my question?”
“God, are you nosey. And, no, I’m not seeing her, not in the romantic way if that’s what you’re asking. She was looking for someone to go kayaking with, and Saul Feldman told her to look me up. She did.
Enough of this, I was really ready for a conversation about Richard Kinver,” said Ray. “As soon as we get done with this, I want to focus on Kinver.”
Sue turned off the highway and, slowing, rolled down the main street of the village, four blocks long, the final two blocks before the “T” intersection at the end of the village showing the last vestiges of what had once been the commercial district of a small lumbering town. The only year-round businesses left were a grocery store, a tavern, and the post office. Several seasonal businesses, an ice cream and fudge shop, and a too-artsy souvenir store sat empty in the cold morning light.
The West Shore Village Medical Clinic stood at the base of the intersection, in a building that had seen many uses over the years as a hardware store, a dry goods store, and a marine supply
. In its current iteration the structure had been stripped back to its block walls and converted to an attractive, well-equipped clinic.
The large patient parking lot at the site of the clinic was partially filled with cars. Jake Jacobson’s sheriff’s car was parked at an oblique angle near the main door of the clinic. He was standing on the outside with several people who appeared to be part of the clinic’s staff. Sue parked her Jeep behind Jake’s cruiser.
As they approached, Jake seemed relieved to see them. He did the introductions. Dr. Bob Adamo seemed to be in charge. He glared at Ray in obvious agitation, his face and mostly-bald head flushed with anger. Adamo looked thin and athletic. Ray thought he was probably a long-distance runner.
“Look, Sheriff,” Adamo began, “I got sick people out here sitting in cars waiting to be seen. And the officer here won’t even let us in to get started on the cleanup.”
“Doctor, we will need some time. I suggest you and the staff explain to your patients that the clinic is not going to be open this morning.” He could hear Adamo continue to talk at him as he turned and entered the building.
Ray, Sue, and Jake stood in the waiting room, Jake providing a quick account of what had happened since he had arrived. “The staff parks in a lot in the rear. The first person to arrive this morning, the receptionist, found the back door unlocked. Initially, she assumed one of the docs had come in early. She walked through, hung up her coat and went to start the coffee. That’s when she noticed that the room where they keep meds had been ransacked. I guess Adamo arrived soon after, and she showed him what had happened, and he called it in. In the meantime he had her open the front door and allow people into the waiting room. He was most unhappy with me when I told him that his staff and patients had to vacate the building. After they were out, I did a quick walk through to make sure that the perp was no longer on the premises. That’s when I discovered the hole in the roof in a back storeroom.”
Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice Page 16