Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice

by Aaron Stander

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

  “I was staying with a friend. She lives outside Mt. Pleasant. It’s a rural area. I thought it would be safe there. But after a couple of days I knew I had to come back, come home. As soon as I got to my mother’s, she insisted that I come here. In fact, she drove me.”

  Molly sat in silence for several minutes, head down, staring at the desk in front of her. Finally Ray asked, “You have something you want to tell us?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I just don’t know where to begin.”

  “Begin at the beginning. Sue and I will ask you questions along the way to help us get your whole story,” counseled Ray.

  “There’s just so much stuff,” said Molly. “It’s difficult. It’s embarrassing. Some of it has to do with things about me that I’ve never told anyone. Maybe that I don’t even want to admit to myself.”

  “You need to tell us everything,” said Sue. “You’ve never done that. You’ve always just skirted along the surface. We need to hear it all. That’s the only way we can help you.” Sue’s voice was low and soothing. Her eyes were locked on Molly’s. “Understand?”

  “Yes,” Molly responded. She went silent again as she considered where to start. “Well, there is a history and then there is what happened in the last few weeks. And a lot of it is about me, things that I’m not comfortable with. Things I can’t imagine telling anyone else.

  “You know Brenda and me and Tristan go back a long way, back to Leiston School starting when we were in the tenth grade. It has to do with sex and drugs, and the three of us, and sometimes Richard Kinver, who was providing the grass in exchange for sex. There was another person, too.”

  “Who was that?” asked Sue.

  “It was Elise. She was only at Leiston our senior year. And we didn’t let her in the group until sometime in the winter. She was wilder than the rest of us. I didn’t know what “kinky” was until I met Elise. Our little gatherings went on right through graduation and then we went off to college.

  “Eventually Brenda and I found our way back up here and our friendship resumed. And then Tristan came back too. He was totally wigged out by then. As I think I told you, his brain had been scrambled in a climbing accident, and Brenda and I became sort of his keepers, Brenda more than me. She had really good organizational skills, knew how to look after him.” Her voice dropped, “Sometimes I can barely look after myself.

  “And then Elise was back in the area, too. Grown-up and sophisticated, the picture of a perfect mother and wife. And life went on. We were fairly normal functioning adults and what had happened at Leiston was a distant memory. And then everything changed and our world started to spin out of control.”

  “When was that?” probed Ray.

  “It all started last spring or summer. Rod Gunne came into the picture and everything changed. It seemed innocent enough in the beginning. Here was this handsome guy with a lot of money who was giving Brenda, and indirectly, Elise a lot of work. And Brenda had been really struggling. Along with everyone else, this has been a hard time for artists.”

  “Molly, you said things began to spin out of control,” said Sue. “Would you explain that?”

  Molly rocked back and forth and then started, “It was this fall. Rod was having a party at his house to celebrate the installation of Brenda’s work. There was some wonderful food and lots of good champagne.” Molly stopped.

  “What else?” probed Sue.

  “There was some dope, too. Some grass and some coke. I didn’t touch any of that. It’s not my high.”

  “Who was there?”

  “It was Brenda and me, Rod and Richard, Elise was there, too.”

  “How was Richard involved?” Ray asked.

  “Richard had arranged the rental of the house to Rod. He looked after the place for this elderly couple. They were snowbirds. Usually they would drive to Arizona in this big old RV of some kind, but this year they couldn’t get it running. Richard helped them find another vehicle, and he drove them out to Arizona. He’d been doing some work for Rod at the church. Rod told him that he needed a place to live, that he would probably build a house in the spring. So Richard showed him that place. He charged Rod plenty of rent. Richard has been desperate for money.”

  “Take us back to the party,” said Sue.

  “Like I was saying, a lot of champagne had been consumed. There is this bumped out wall on the lakeside of the house with a big hot tub. We all ended up in there. It was like we were 18 again, all hormones and no brains. And that became a regular kind of thing, several times a week. Rod started referring to us as the ladies of the altar guild.

  “And then one evening Rod showed up with a video camera. And the next time we got together he had a big screen next to the hot tub so we could have instant replays. Things were becoming increasingly wild and kinky. Brenda, who’d been holding back, really seemed to get into it. She would take the recordings back home and produce them into a video with a hard rock soundtrack and lots of breathing and moaning. It was the wildest stuff I’d ever seen.

  “One night we took the video over to the church, it was probably around two in the morning. Rod put it on all the screens and really cranked the audio. We drank more champagne and, well…” her voice trailed off.

  “I could go on and on, but let me tell you what I think was going down. I think that Brenda had really fallen for Rod Gunne. And I think the same kind of thing was going on with Elise as well. And I think that Rod was more drawn to Elise than Brenda. Neither of them ever told me that, I could just see it. And by this time Brenda had tons of video. She could destroy him. He knew it. And then she was killed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” asked Sue.

  “I couldn’t do it. I was afraid. I was too involved. And I didn’t know if Richard was involved, the truck and all. I was trying to protect him. But after he was killed, I assumed I was next. Rod Gunne, he’s the killer. And I don’t know about Elise, she’s probably involved, too. But you’ve got to protect me, and my son and my mother.”

  Ray let her comment hang a long time before responding. “A lot has happened in the last few days. I don’t think you’re in danger anymore.”

  Molly sat there staring at Ray, looking like she expected to hear more.

  “I can’t really tell you anymore at the moment,” he explained. “It will be on the news in the next few days. I want you to go to your mother’s home and stay there. You are no longer in any danger. But I want you to be available in case we have any more questions. No trips outside the area and do not have any contact with Rod Gunne, understand?”

  “Yes,” she responded. “Am I in trouble with the law?”

  “Probably not,” Ray responded, “But I’m counting on your continued honesty and cooperation. You understand that?”

  “Yes.” Then she asked sheepishly, “Do you think I might be able to keep my job?”

  “That’s an issue that you will have to take up with the Human Resources Department. You disappeared without letting anyone know you weren’t going to be showing up for work.”

  “Am I free to go now?” she asked, sensing that the conversation was at an end.

  “Yes,” said Ray, standing and escorting her to the door. He closed the door again and collapsed into his chair.

  Looking at Sue he said, “It’s a good thing that you are so skilled at details. There are a million loose ends here.”

  “And how do we explain all of this to the prosecutor?”

  “How do we explain any of it to the prosecutor? It’s part Greek tragedy, part soap opera, and probably no one is going to trial.”

  “How about Rod Gunne?” Sue asked.

  “We’ve got to bring him in and interrogate him thoroughly. The polygraph results strongly suggest that he wasn’t involved in any of the crimes, but we’ve got to squeeze him hard and break him down. And we’ve got enough information now to do it.”

  “Richard Kinver and Tristan” said Sue, “why did she want them dead
?”

  “There are some things we’ll never really understand. In her warped view of the world they must have posed some kind of threat. I wonder where she thought it was all going to end. She didn’t have parents to bail her out this time.”

  They sat for many minutes in complete silence. Finally Ray asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “Two things. I’m trying to comprehend this whole situation, and I’m thinking a big cheeseburger medium rare with some real cheddar, some sweet potato fries, and a chocolate shake. How about you?”

  “I’m with you on the first. But on the second, I’m thinking about pastrami on really good rye. I’m thinking Zingerman’s.”

  “Ray, that’s four hours away on bad roads.”

  “I’ll take a laptop, and we will have hours of uninterrupted time where we can try to work through this whole case. And I’ll buy.”

  “I’ll drive.” Sue looked over at Simone who was curled up on the one overstuffed chair in the office. “Come on girl,” she said, “We’re going on a road trip.”

  Author’s Note: It Takes a Village

  With Shelf Ice and all of my other books, I’ve been fortunate to have assistance and continued encouragement from so many friends and readers. Special thanks to the early readers of this manuscript, Diane Carr, Danny Carr, Anne-Marie Oomen, Heather Shaw, and Sandy Seppala. Their feedback was essential in shaping the story and eliminating the most egregious illiteracies. At the end Barbara Paton’s careful proofing was critical in removing my many typos and omissions.

  I am greatly indebted to Heather Shaw for the cover design and interior layout. I am in awe of her artistic skills and literary sensibilities.

  And, finally, Mary K, who provides support, friendship, and wise counsel as the book moves from a few random notes to a final draft.

  Other Books in the Ray Elkins Series:

  Summer People

  Color Tour

  Deer Season

  © 2010 by Aaron Stander

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.