by Pill, Maggie
Chapter Thirty-one
Retta
I arrived at the chief’s office at eight-fifteen the next morning, time enough to let Rory settle in but hoping to catch him before anyone else got in the way.
“Mrs. Stilson,” he said as I entered. Since a couple of deputies were present, it seemed we were going to keep things businesslike.
“Chief.” I nodded to the others. “Did you have a chance to look into that matter?”
“I did.” His glance took in my outfit, chosen carefully to be attractive without seeming overly planned. “Please, come on back.”
The room he led me to wasn’t inviting, even if the inhabitant was. The dingy-yellow walls were scraped and scratched by years of wear. There was almost no furniture, just a battered desk, an office chair with cracks in its leather back, and two straight chairs for guests. “They’re going to paint,” he said apologetically. “I decided not to move my stuff in until they finish.”
“If you’d like a female perspective, I could help with color and fabric choices,” I offered. “Just a few little things can really brighten things, but I know men are no good at that.”
“It’s nice of you to offer.” He had his back to me, and I couldn’t see his face, but his voice seemed a shade cooler. “Coffee?”
Surprisingly good coffee came from a complicated-looking machine behind his desk. After I’d complimented the blend, he dropped a bombshell. “I suppose you know we have Neil Brown in custody, since it was your sisters who brought him in.”
Adjusting my jacket to give myself a moment, I wondered if I should admit they hadn’t told me. He’d wonder why I wasn’t in on such big news. “I haven’t spoken to them since they left for the U.P. You know how many dead spots there are up there.”
“I see.” It couldn’t tell from his tone how much he did see, but he left it alone. “Do you still want to know what was in Kowaleski’s notes?” He stumbled over the Polish pronunciation.
“It’s Kuh-vuh-LES-ski, but we called him K. And, yes. It might help us wrap things up.”
Consulting a notebook lying open before him, he said, “I found it interesting that Kow—uh, K, thought one witness was lying. He said something didn’t ring true in her statements.”
“Sue Mason.” When he looked up, surprised at my deductive powers, I added, “A woman can tell when another woman has a thing for a man. If Brown was in trouble, she’d try to help.”
“K thought she probably saw Brown before he took off.”
“The truck at the dispatch office.”
Rory nodded. “K figured she didn’t know anything specific, so he dropped it.”
I picked at a sliver of wood sticking out from the desk corner. Rory frowned, so I put my hands in my lap. “Sue’s a good person. At worst, she told Brown the police were after him, maybe urged him to run. It’s what someone with a soft spot for an old flame might do.”
He looked down at the notebook again. “He wasn’t willing to ruin her reputation because she showed bad judgment that made no difference in the end.”
A soft knock interrupted, and a young officer stuck his head in. “Sorry, Chief, but you told me to let you know. They’re here.”
“Thanks, Gates.” Rory rose, signaling he had other things to do.
I meant to thank him and slip out, promising we’d get together again soon, but I stopped dead when I saw who’d come to speak with the new chief.
Chapter Thirty-two
Faye
Arranging to meet Barb outside the chief’s office at 8:30, I went in early to visit Neil Brown. He’d been put in the tiny cell the city uses to hold prisoners until arrangements are made for whatever comes next. After reading the email Retta had sent summarizing what she learned in our absence, I wanted to clarify some things with Neil.
Despite the fact that the cell was completely open and eight feet from the doorway, the guy on duty made a big deal of asking formally if Neil wanted to talk to me. He almost smiled as he gave assent. At first we talked about food and rest and what he might need me to bring him. The deputy soon lost interest, and I turned to what I really wanted to know.
“Where did you leave your truck when you went to see Carina that day?”
“On the street,” Neil answered. “There was a spot right in front. Why?”
“That’s a point for us,” I said. “The man Wozniak saw left on foot. My sister checked it out, and she says he couldn’t have seen you clearly from where he was.”
“He couldn’t have seen me at all,” Neil said. “I was long gone by the time he got there.”
“But don’t you get it? It proves he’s mistaken.”
He gave me a reproachful look. “Do you think he’d ever admit that?”
“No.” We fell silent, and the sounds of the room broke into my focus. The phone rang. Feet shuffled. The deputy spoke to someone about a missing bicycle. Everyday stuff, but nothing was everyday for Neil, locked in, suspected of murder, and unable to do anything about it.
No doubt he regretted coming back to Allport. Overnight he’d gone pale under his tan and his eyes looked sunken. I promised myself we’d try harder to clear him. But how?
“I’ve been thinking about the files on that drive,” he said. “Something on it isn’t what it appears to be. Otherwise, why were those guys so anxious to get it?”
“Kidnapping is a pretty drastic step.”
“Gabe wanted the money, but the person who sent him for it is afraid.”
“Of what?”
He shrugged. “That it’ll prove I’m innocent, maybe?”
“Because if you are, the police will start looking for someone else.”
He nodded. “Three of the files make sense to me. Stan might keep track of fishing spots and information on Pierce Lake. The one listing Carson’s failures is like him, too. Keeping track of what the kid cost him.”
“And the fourth?”
“That’s the odd one.”
“Because it lists old water bills?”
“Because Stan doesn’t get water bills. He’s got a well.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “We plan to show the drive to Chief Neuencamp this morning. We’ll see what we can come up with together.”
Neil made a doubtful grimace. “I hope the chief’s more willing to listen than Stevens was.” His eyelids drooped. “Meri visited last night. I told her not to come back.”
Recalling what Neil didn’t yet know, that his sister was facing life-threatening surgery, I faked a confident smile, assured him we were on the case, and left him in that awful place.
I was still thinking about my talk with Neil when we got to the chief’s office. Barb seemed to get stuck in the doorway. Peering around her, I saw Retta, her chair pulled up close to the desk. She rose from her chair, giving the impression that a noose hung from the ceiling had been pulled tight. “I think we’re done with plans for the grant, aren’t we, Chief?”
“Yes,” he replied blandly. “That’s under control, but you might want to stay.”
“Stay?” Retta and Barb spoke at once.
“It will save repeating things later.” He looked at them in turn. “Is that okay?”
Barb nodded stiffly, her face blank. Retta’s smile was thin as water. “If I can help.”
For a while the chief seemed to be the only person in the room who could function. He herded Barb and me in and went across the hall to get another chair. Though I was curious about Retta’s presence, the image of Neil in that cell kept resurfacing in my mind. We’d brought him back to what might be life in prison. Even though Barb and Retta sat there with tension crackling between them like gathering lightening, I had to convince the chief Neil was innocent.
Once we were seated, the chief said, “You must be Ms. Burner. Rory Neuencamp.”
/> “Faye. It’s nice to meet you, chief.” Barb stayed silent, so I gave him a synopsis. Of course he’d heard it from Tom, but he’d probably slanted things to make Neil seem guilty.
“Mr. Brown turned himself in voluntarily,” I finished. “He wants to set things straight.”
“A few years behind schedule,” Neuencamp said mildly.
“He didn’t think anyone would listen to his side of it,” I argued. “That’s why he ran away.” Assuming an air of confidence I added, “We plan to prove he didn’t kill his wife.”
“I see.” Neuencamp’s gaze sought my sister’s. Barb shifted in her chair but said nothing.
“Gabe, the man we, um, convinced to return with us, will tell you he was hired by someone to retrieve this flash drive.” Digging into the zipper pocket of my purse, I took out the drive. I’d refused to give it to Tom, arguing it was too important to entrust to anyone but the chief. “What’s on this could be what got Carina and Carson killed.”
I looked to Barb. “Neil says look at the water file. Stan doesn’t get water bills.”
Retta made a sound like a hiccup, and we all turned to look at her. “The computer tech at WOZ told Stanley to hide his financial files under an innocent-looking title, like an electric bill.”
“An old one that no one would take any interest in.” Barb had returned from whatever planet she’d been visiting. She leaned toward Neuencamp. “Chief, you need to look at the file.”
He seemed doubtful. “Do we know who this drive belongs to?”
“It was given to Brown by his wife, who’s deceased. I think the law would call it his.”
“But the drive might contain sensitive infomation.”
She regarded him coolly. “You won’t know unless you look, will you?”
With a shrug the chief plugged the drive into his computer. As he waited for it to load he asked, “The water bill is the important one?”
Barb shrugged. “Brown’s right. Stan would have a well out there.”
Neuencamp clicked on the file. “What are the letters at the beginning of each line?”
“They didn’t ring any bells.” Barb clearly wished she could go around the desk and look over his shoulder, but she stayed where she was.
“Read them off, please, Rory.” I looked at Retta, who’d taken out a pen and a scrap of paper. Quickly I did the same, writing down each entry as he read it off. I leaned so Barb could see my list, and we all fell silent, trying to fit words to the initials. “AM, MT, CI, and NYSB.”
Retta got the first item. “Allport Merchant. They use AM as their logo.”
After a moment’s thought, I said, “MT could be Michigan Trust. They’re based in Detroit, where Wozniak lived for years.”
“If they’re banks, that would make NYSB New York State Bank,” Barb said.
The chief nodded. “What’s CI?”
There was another silence as we thought about possible bank names. Connecticut International? Cincinnati Investments? Commercial & Industrial?
“The only things that come to my mind aren’t banks,” I said. “Counter Intelligence. Confidential Informant. Certifiably Insane.” I was getting desperate.
Barb looked up at the chief. “Not a bank. Think offshore accounts.”
Neuencamp smiled. “Cayman Islands.”
“They’re all places where Stanley has money!” Retta beamed at us, though her wattage dimmed a little when she met Barb’s gaze and didn’t get an answering beam.
The chief was studying the screen. “If this was my code, the numbers after each one wouldn’t be amounts. They’d be the account numbers.”
“And Usage_Q1 and so on are the passwords.” Retta said. “He’s got capitals, a number, and special characters in each one, just like the computer guy advised.”
“You need to ask Wozniak about this,” Barb said, and I cringed a little at her bossy tone.
The chief didn’t seem to mind. “He might be a little touchy about us looking at his files.”
“Which is why we have to tell him. If he hasn’t changed his passwords in the last six years he’s an idiot, but he certainly needs to change them now.”
“Since there was no love lost between Stanley and Neil,” Retta said, “maybe the son and the son-in-law joined forces to steal Stanley’s money.”
“If that were the case, why were Carina and Carson murdered?”
“Something went wrong. Brown killed them, but then he couldn’t access the money because he was afraid they’d track him down.”
For once I found Retta as irritating as Barb did. How could she believe Neil was a killer? I reminded myself she’d never met him. She was just staying neutral, like a good investigator.
Touching a notebook on his desk, Neuencamp spoke to Barb. “I’m been reading up on the case. Can you tell me why you think Brown might be innocent?”
She ticked off the points on her fingers. “He’s had the drive all these years and never used it, which indicates he didn’t know what was on it. Someone followed us to the U.P. and demanded he hand it over, and I’m almost sure Neil had no idea what they were talking about.” Noticing that Barb’s “Mr. Brown” and “Brown” references had become “Neil,” I smiled to myself. She believed in him too.
For the first time, Retta spoke directly to Barb. “If Carina gave that flash drive to her husband, she’d probably figured out her brother planned to steal their dad’s money.”
“Why Carson?”
“He stayed at Stanley’s house for the first few days of his visit, even though things hadn’t been good between them. I think he wanted a chance to get at his dad’s computer.” She explained to Barb and the chief what she’d learned at WOZ, ending with Art Chalmers’ impression Carson had been concerned for the safety of Stan’s financial information.
Barb presented a theory. “Carson stays at Stan’s and copies any files he thinks might be the right one to his own flash drive.”
Entering the spirit of things, Neuencamp leaned back in the chair. “His sister found out about it somehow, which is why she was upset that morning.”
“Everybody’s flash drive looked the same,” I reminded them. “She probably picked up Carson’s thinking she had her own and saw what was on it.”
“So she confronts Carson, asking him what he’s doing with Stan’s files.”
“Which started the argument Neil interrupted,” Barb said. “His DNA and blood got on Carson’s clothing when he defended his wife.”
Neuencamp seemed to return to cop mode. “Just how strongly did he defend her?”
“Neil says they were both alive when he left,” Barb said.
“So who killed them?”
She hesitated, probably unwilling to accuse anyone. “It’s possible Wozniak didn’t react well when he learned what his son intended.”
I doubted the chief knew Wozniak well, being new to Allport. Could he accept the idea that a prominent businessman had caught his son stealing from him and killed him in anger?
“Carina was there,” Barb said. “She saw what happened, and that’s why she was killed.”
“It’s possible,” Neuencamp said, “but there are a couple of things to keep in mind.” Flipping through the notebook, he consulted a couple of pages. “First, Carson was hit as he bent over her, indicating the wife was struck first. Second, the police processed Wozniak’s clothing. He didn’t have the kind of blood spatter a person would get from bashing two people’s heads in. He had blood on his hands and shirt front, consistent with him holding his children to his chest.”
I got an image of a frantic father cradling his dead son and almost felt sorry for Wozniak. Still, other than Neil he was the best suspect. “He’d have regretted it as soon as it was over.”
Neuencamp rearranged the things on his desk, a
classic signal that a meeting is about to end. “Let me look into this. I haven’t talked to Brown yet, haven’t had much chance to talk to Tom, either.” To Barb he said, “I’ll be objective. That’s all I can offer right now.”
“That’s all we ask, Chief.” She rose and we left, leaving Retta and the chief together.
When we got outside, however, Barb stopped on the sidewalk, allowing me time for a smoke. I lit up, feeling far from cheerful about Neil’s future. Chief Neuencamp had listened politely, but that didn’t mean he believed us. And it was hard to walk away, knowing Brooke’s daddy would soon be transferred to the county lock-up.
“What do you think she was doing in there?”
I exhaled before answering. “Butting in, I suppose. Or batting her false eyelashes at the new chief to see if he’s susceptible to her charms.” I glanced at my reflection in the window of the building. My face looked its age, maybe more. “I wonder what it’s like to get any man you want just by being you. I don’t think I ever had that power, and I sure don’t have it now.”
“I never begrudged Retta her ability to charm men,” Barb said vaguely. I noticed, though, that she spoke in past tense.
Chapter Thirty-three
Retta
I was surprised to find Barbara Ann and Faye waiting for me when I left the police station. I’d stopped at the ladies’ room, mostly to be sure they were gone before I left. Seeing them waiting I flinched a little, but Barbara didn’t accuse me of sticking my nose in their business. Instead she asked in her usual blunt way, “Stan Wozniak likes you, right?”
“He does.” I waited, guessing she wanted a favor. “What?”I finally prompted.
“I need to meet him somewhere outside his office, somewhere he’ll have to be social.” After a moment she added, “Where he can’t order me off the property.”
My mind had been running ahead, and I was ready. “How about dinner with him this evening at a table full of local VIPs? He’ll have to be civil.”
I’d been trying for months to get my sister involved with AllBoosters, an organization I practically founded. Its purpose is civic good works, but Barbara Ann has no patience for organized philanthropy. “The most effective kindness is one-to-one,” she always says. While that’s nice, people united accomplish bigger things than one can do alone. Being recognized as a good person doesn’t hurt your popularity, either. Barbara’s lone wolf attitude has always been her problem. One of them.