“How about violence. Any suggestion that… ?”
“I probed that very carefully. You’ve got to remember all these women are long-term friends and occasional loves of Jason. I approached the topic by saying I wouldn’t like someone that big getting angry with me.” She looked at Ray. “Which is true. But the consensus is that Jason just gets hurt when things aren’t going well. And he doesn’t have the capacity to talk things out or confront. He just wanders away with his dog. There was a lot of armchair psychology, something about his mother splitting when he was a kid.”
“How about Ashleigh, were you able to explore that angle?”
“I got lucky on that one. I was just waiting for someone to suggest that my interest might be something other than… ”
“Social,” Ray interjected.
“Yeah, social,” she chuckled. “They wanted to know about Ashleigh, wanted to know, woman to woman, if Jason was a suspect. I felt sort of false when I told them this, but I pretended I was giving them some inside stuff. I said that we’d talked to dozens of people, to everyone Ashleigh had any contact with. Jason was on the list, but not a suspect. They agreed that he couldn’t have been involved. And then there was some talk about how Ashleigh was really out of his… ”
“His what?” Ray probed.
“I was going to say ‘class,’ but that wasn’t it. A couple of them had been acquainted with Ashleigh. She came to yoga classes her first couple of years at Leiston. I think the way they phrased it was that Ashleigh was a bit too exotic for Jason. They thought she’d probably had some good rolls in the hay with him and then got bored. But there was the suggestion that he was upset when it was over.”
“How did they know?”
“Hey, in this little burg there’s a lot of talk.”
“The marijuana use, did you put that out there?”
“I floated that a couple of times, but no one responded. They were a bit wary, me being a cop.”
“So, your gut feeling, what about Zelke?”
“I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“You’re not going to go out with him, are you?”
“He might be the best thing out there at the moment,” she said in a teasing fashion. “But no, probably not. He’s not a reader. You’d never approve.”
“Thank you,” said Ray, “interesting stuff.” He got up from his desk and pulled down a large white board from the ceiling. Ray went to the list of interviewees and added a question mark to Zelke’s name.
“Not convinced?” said Sue.
“I agree, I think it’s highly unlikely. But maybe something in him snapped, and he followed them out there. He knows the terrain; he’s big enough and strong enough, and he’d have a hunting knife. His only alibi to his whereabouts on Saturday evening is his dog.”
“Too bad dogs don’t talk. Bet they’d be a lot more reliable than people,” said Sue.
“We should talk to him again in a day or two to let him know we’re still interested in him. Both of us this time, good cop and bad cop. Are you finished with the crime scene?”
“Yes. We went over the entire area again and then vacuumed the back of tarps on the off-chance that something was clinging to them.”
“And?”
“No new findings at the scene. I’ll look over the debris we collected when we vacuumed the tarps. We’ve canvassed the area; I’ve talked with the Department of Natural Resources. I was hoping there might have been a game warden in the area that evening. Nothing. And I went back to Arnie’s shack. Evans and I did a thorough search of the building and the area. I was hoping I’d see something we missed in the wind and rain. Nada. Anything new on Arnie?”
“Not much, and nothing good,” said Ray. “I talked to the trauma doctor and to the cardiologist who’s treating him. They think if he survives he’ll have a lot more cognitive damage. I think it’s doubtful that he’ll ever be able to tell us anything. Poor kid. Poor Kim. Either way, it’s going to be awful for her.” He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “How do you feel about a fast trip to Cleveland and Ann Arbor?”
“You want me talk to Dowd’s parents?”
“Yes, and perhaps go through his apartment in Ann Arbor. You’ll have to do some liaison work before you go. I’ve always had very good cooperation with other agencies when I’ve needed to do this.”
“I’ll get started on it right away. Hopefully I can get out of here before noon. Anything else?”
Ray handed her a grocery list. “If you have time on your way out of Ann Arbor, here’s a few things I need from Zingerman’s Deli.”
“Is this in my job description?” she asked in a mocking tone.
“Consider it a professional development activity,” he responded. “Zingerman’s is a model of efficiency and good customer service.” He paused and smiled, “And you will also have my eternal gratitude.”
25
Shortly before ten, Ray pulled into the almost empty parking lot of the Bay Side Family Market. He sat in his car for several minutes trying to remember what he needed, the exhaustion of a long day clouding his thoughts. He pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket, switched on the map light, and listed the necessities: milk, bananas, coffee, bread. Then he wrote “dinner” followed by a question mark. Collecting a shopping cart near the front door, Ray picked through a pile of bananas, most overripe, until he found a bunch that was more green than yellow. After picking up a quart of milk and a loaf of whole-wheat bread for toast, he noticed a lone baguette on the display rack of a local baker. He tested the crust; it was still hard. The bread became the determining factor for the choice of other menu items for his late-night supper. He grabbed a bag of golden delicious apples, checking the label to make sure they were from an area orchard. Then he moved to the cheese counter, an oval island between the produce section and the wine, four-fifths displaying domestic varieties, the final wedge covered with imported products, including a small collection of artisan and farmhouse cheeses. In a far corner he unearthed a petite pyramid of Valençay, a rare find so long after the summer people were gone. Holding it up and turning it slowly, he inspected the hard rind of charcoal and mold before putting it in the cart. Then he selected a piece of Brie and looked through the modest offering of Stilton, five small packages, checking the rind. His selection technique didn’t go unnoticed. He looked up to find Sarah James watching him with great amusement.
“You do a much better job of shopping than I do,” she said good-naturedly, playfully offering him her grocery list. She came around the island and inspected the contents of his cart. “Looks like you’re planning a picnic.”
“Late dinner, actually. Something that doesn’t require any cooking.”
“Late,” she said glancing at her watch. “Very late. You look like you’ve had a long day.”
Ray just nodded.
“I meant to call you today,” Sarah said. “Something occurred to me that might be useful.” She looked around after she said it. “I don’t think it’s real important, but it may be of some interest. But this is hardly the place. I’ll call you in the morning?”
“If you have time,” Ray offered, “we could get a coffee over at the Beanery. At this time of night, I’m sure we could get a booth at the back where we can talk without an audience.”
“Done with your shopping?” she asked.
“Just need to pay. How about you?”
“Same.”
They chatted as they waited in line. The lone cashier—a tall, thin teenage girl with pinkish hair and multiple facial piercings— worked through customers in front of them, people on milk, beer, bread, and chips runs. Ray walked Sarah to her car, a Subaru wagon, and then followed her to the center of the village. He was out of his car and halfway to the door before he noticed the lights, with the exception of a red neon tube that spelled BEANERY, were out. He studied the sign on the front door. Fall Hours Now In Effect.
Sarah came to his side and looked at the sign. “It’s not that important, sheriff. I
t can wait until tomorrow. Just a couple of things that might be useful.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you don’t mind, you can come up to my place.” He pointed to the bluff behind the village. “I live up there, it’s five blocks.”
“I won’t be intruding on your… ” “No, it will be nice to have someone to talk to over bread and cheese.”
Ray opened the packages and arranged cheese on a board while Sarah wandered around the kitchen and living room. He sliced up the baguette, put a clean dishtowel in a basket, dropped in the pieces, and folded the towel over the bread. “What would you like to drink?” he asked. I have Diet Coke, coffee, tea, or I could open a bottle of wine.
“A little wine would be nice, but please don’t… ” “Good choice,” said Ray. He selected a Vouvray from a collection of bottles stored horizontally on the bottom shelf of his refrigerator and retrieved a corkscrew from a drawer.
“What a wonderful home you have here,” she said, looking around at the kitchen. She stood for a long moment and examined a bookcase on the side of the kitchen island. “Are all these cookbooks yours?”
“Yes,” Ray responded. “I’ve been collecting them for years, and now I finally have a place for them in the kitchen. That was one of the major design considerations for this room.”
“And the work area looks like it was designed for a serious cook,” she commented as she continued her inspection of the kitchen. “The place has that new-house smell. How long have you lived here?”
“I was supposed to be in by early April, but there were a number of delays. I was sort of camping out here in May and June, and didn’t really start to settle in until July.”
“So you have two bedrooms?”
“Three actually. I was going to have two, but my local bank manager encouraged me to add a third. They don’t like to write mortgages for two-bedroom homes—something about resale value. So, I had the architect add a third bedroom. It worked out okay. I have one nice-sized bedroom and two small ones. One I’m using as a study, and the other is filled with boxes yet to be unpacked.”
Sarah helped him bring the cheese, bread, wine, apples, and a cup of coffee to a small table near the wall of glass at the front of the main room. Ray lit two candles and dimmed the lights so they could enjoy the view of the village and harbor. The glow of the candles reflected off the surface of the simple pine table creating an aura of warmth and intimacy.
“This is fantastic,” she said as she gazed at the panorama below. “How did you find the lot?”
“It belonged to friends. They were going to build here at one time. But they went their separate ways, and she ended up with it.”
“So how did you… ?”
“When she decided to move to Seattle to be closer to her daughter and grandchildren, she made me an offer on the lot I couldn’t refuse.”
“This person, was she a… a romantic interest?” Sarah asked coyly.
“We had been close friends for awhile.”
Sarah raised her wine glass. “Well, here’s a toast to you and your wonderful home.”
Ray looked across the table. He remembered how attractive he had found Sarah the first time he interviewed her. And now, in the golden glow of the candles, she was even more engaging.
“You had something you wanted to tell me,” Ray said.
“I’m enjoying everything so much, but yes—two things. First, I was putting updates of the employees’ health insurance in the faculty personnel files. Alan Quertermous, the math instructor, has this gigantic folder––he’s been at the school from almost the beginning. So, I was looking through his folder to see if there was anything that I could discard, much of the material in these files is years out of date. I don’t think anyone has ever cleaned them up. Anyway, I found a copy of the letter where Gwendolyn Howard offered him the position.”
“So, it’s an interesting piece of history,” he offered, taking a sip of wine.
“Well, it’s more than that. She mentioned the fact that they were distant cousins and how nice it would be to reconnect with that part of her family. No one has ever mentioned that before, Quertermous being related to Mrs. Howard. I thought Ashleigh was the only member of the family to ever work at Leiston. I still don’t know how Quertermous and Mrs. Howard were related, there’s no suggestion of that in the letter. And I have no idea whether or not he and Ashleigh might be blood relatives. I just thought you might find that interesting.”
“Yes,” said Ray. He pondered the information for several moments. “And there was a second… ?”
“Yes, I was talking to my son, Eric, on the phone last night. He told me about something that happened his senior year.” She raised her eyebrows, “He didn’t tell me about the incident at the time, at least not the complete story. And I hesitate here, because it’s only a rumor and probably is of no significance… ”
“Go ahead.”
“It was near the end of the spring semester. Ashleigh had taken twelve students on an extended camping trip, the final activity of her wilderness survival class. There were supposed to be two adults guiding the group, but something happened to the other leader, I can’t remember if he got sick or what. Anyway, Ashleigh, not wanting to disappoint the kids, took them solo. ”
“Where?”
“The plan was to spend about six days paddling, hiking, and doing zero-impact camping on the Manitou Islands. As I remember, it was a cold spring that year. The first few days the trip went as planned, but then they really got hit, a couple inches of wet snow and high winds. They had to stay on South Manitou an extra day. Eric remembers that Ashleigh was very cautious. She had the group listen to the marine weather report with her before they started the next crossing to North Manitou, the longest piece of open water on the trip. He remembers the forecast was calm winds and small waves. But as they neared their destination, the weather changed, and they got caught in a squall. A couple of boats capsized.” Sarah paused, her tone softened. “Eric has nothing but praise for the way Ashleigh handled what might have been a tragic situation. But I’m glad he didn’t give me all the gory details at the time,” she observed, tearing a piece of bread.
“So what happened?” pressed Ray.
“The kids were in the water. Eric said the boy, Billy, stayed with his kayak, but the girl, Monica, became fairly hysterical. He remembers that she was screaming that she was going to die and that she let her boat drift away. Ashleigh had the other kids stay together and she went after Monica. She muscled the kid onto her deck and paddled her to shore. Then she came back for Billy. He had been in the water too long, and he couldn’t help. Eric says he still can’t figure out how Ashleigh got him back in his boat, he was a big kid. Eric just remembers she sort of scooped Billy up and put him in his boat. Then she towed the kayak to shore and got the rest of the kids safely landed.
“That’s quite a story, but I don’t see… ”
“Patience,” she offered with a smile. “I’m just getting to the important part. Billy had been in the water for some time before Ashleigh was able to get him back in the boat. By the time she got him to shore he was shivering uncontrollably and not making much sense. She had the kids build a fire and start heating water, and then, to their amazement, she stripped him out of his wetsuit and got him into a sleeping bag. Then she stripped down to her underwear and got in with him and wrapped herself around him. Eric doesn’t remember how long it took before Billy stopped shivering. Eventually they moved to a tent where he was force-fed hot tea and energy bars.”
“She certainly seemed to know how to handle the situation.”
“Ashleigh was that kind of person. Not embarrassed to do what had to be done.” Sarah paused and sipped some wine. “She got the kids to set up camp and make supper. The next morning when they went to pack the boats, Ashleigh’s kayak had been vandalized.”
“Vandalized? How?”
“Eric said there were a couple of holes in the bottom of the cockpit, like someone had driven a large kni
fe or hatchet through the boat. Eric said that when Ashleigh saw the damage, she carried on like this was part of the experience. She got out a repair kit and showed them how to prepare the surface and put on fiberglass patches. She never mentioned the incident again, but the kids talked about it.”
“Did Eric speculate on who might have damaged her boat?”
“I asked him. He thinks that one of the boys must have been very taken with Ashleigh. That her climbing into the sleeping bag with Billy triggered a jealous rage.”
“Does he have a likely candidate?”
“No, not really. He said that at the time he wished he had been the one needing help with hypothermia.” She chuckled and continued, “I reminded him that’s not the kind of thing you tell your mother.”
“Does he think Ashleigh might have been involved with a student?”
“No,” Sarah firmly answered. “Absolutely not. But Eric said Billy got a lot of teasing from the boys about how lucky he was to have Ashleigh wrapped around him.”
“How much of this got back to school? I mean, kids really talk about… ”
“It was near the end of the year. Other than Billy, they were all seniors. A couple of weeks later they were spread to the winds.”
“Does Eric remember anything else?”
“I think that’s it. He said he had forgotten all about the damaged kayak. Ashleigh’s death brought back the episode.”
Ray nodded. “The other kids on the trip, can you get me a list? I’d like to know who they are and if any are in the area.”
“Billy is still around, he’s a senior. As to the class list, I’ll have to do some digging. It wouldn’t be on our new system. Eric probably can give me the names from memory.”
Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour Page 14