Walleye Junction

by Karin Salvalaggio

  The Word document that was attached to the e-mail consisted of a list of eighty-two names. Accompanying the names were a few sentences, which described the circumstances of their deaths and listed the dates they died and their birthdates. Macy flipped through the pages. Some of the deaths dated as far back as five years. The only indication of the e-mail’s source was a roughly drawn image. Three slashed lines formed a capital letter A that was enclosed by a circle. There was no further explanation.

  Macy frowned. “The Circle-A is a symbol used by anarchists.”

  “I didn’t know Montana had anarchists.”

  Macy checked over the list of names again. “It looks like everyone on this list died from accidentally overdosing on prescription painkillers. Are they local to the Flathead Valley?”

  “No, nine lived in Idaho, five were from North Dakota, and at least ten were residents of Wyoming.”

  “This isn’t a problem that’s unique to this area. Last I heard more people die from prescription drug overdoses than traffic accidents.” Macy handed the printout back to Gina. “Carla and Lloyd overdosed on heroin. I’m not seeing a connection.”

  “Carla Spencer was forced to administer a lethal dose to herself and her husband. It wasn’t accidental. It was murder.” Gina pointed to the list of names. “Maybe this is more of the same.”

  “Eighty-two murders? Not sure I have the stamina for that sort of investigation.”

  “What should we do with this e-mail?” asked Gina. “We don’t have the resources to follow every lead.”

  “Get someone to cross-reference these names with doctors, clinics, and hospitals. The state coroner should have data from all the counties. Pick a few at random and see whether there was any suspicion surrounding their deaths.”

  “I’ll talk to Lou about getting someone on it. If not, I’ll do it myself. How did the Crawley interview go?”

  Macy’s mood darkened. “He admitted to meeting Carla at Ron Forester’s house but denies any connection to the kidnapping and murder. He says he was with his wife the night Philip died.”

  “He sounds like a total prick.”

  “He’s a charming prick. Despite everything, it’s hard not to like him.”

  “Your buddy Aiden Marsh has a team searching Crawley’s residence now. I hear it’s a nice place,” said Gina.

  “I had the pleasure of visiting last summer … same story, different woman.”

  “You have to wonder why his wife puts up with it.”

  “There’s no way of knowing what goes on in their marriage,” said Macy. “I’m sure it’s complicated. I’ll interview her this afternoon, but I doubt she’ll give me any insight. Meanwhile, we’ve got to find Sean Spencer. Any news?”

  “Nothing. It’s like he’s gone underground. His girlfriend is another story. Some buzz has been building online. There are rumors going around that she’s planning one of her raves here in the Flathead Valley sometime during the next week. From everything I’m hearing from Sean’s friends, he and Kristina are practically inseparable. If we find her, we should find him.”

  “A rave would make a nice change. I’m in the mood for a little fun.”

  “Speaking of fun,” said Gina. “How were your ten hours in Helena?”

  “Too brief. I had breakfast with my son, but he wasn’t at his best. My mother thinks he might be coming down with something. Did you manage to escape your mother-in-law undetected?”

  “She caught me just as I was sneaking out the door this morning. She thinks it’s my fault that my husband is getting fat.”

  “You need to remind her what year it is.”

  “I did. I just wasn’t as gentle as I should have been. I’m afraid it was handbags at dawn.”

  “What did your husband have to say about it?”

  “Nothing. He hadn’t returned from pulling a nightshift. I spoke to him though. He’s not feeling well either. Maybe the flu is going around.”

  “I hope not. My mother has her hands full looking after Luke as it is. Have you spoken to Lou today? Do you know if he managed to track down Sean Spencer’s real father?”

  “I did. Scott Walker has been laid up with a broken leg for the past few weeks. He’s not our guy.”

  “Has Sean been in touch with him?”

  “Walker says he hasn’t, but Lou isn’t convinced he’s telling us the truth. There’s still nothing concrete on Joel Edwards’s whereabouts either, but we did find out that he used to be a member of a militia group.”

  Macy gave Gina a blank look. “Sorry, remind me who Joel Edwards is. I’m a little slow today.”

  “He’s the loser Carla met in rehab.”

  “Right. No address for him?”

  “He lived out of his car.”

  “Okay, chase the militia lead and see if he has any affiliation with Carla and Lloyd Spencer’s group.”

  Macy checked her phone. There was a missed call from Aiden.

  “It’s Aiden Marsh,” said Macy. “I’d better call him back. There may be news from the search up at the Crawley residence.”

  “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

  Macy went outside and sat at a picnic table situated on a patch of lawn near the station’s back door. She closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky.

  Aiden sounded like he’d been running. “Macy, I think you should get up here.”

  “Have you found something?”

  “Maybe. It looks like someone tried to destroy some evidence.”

  “The bike gear.”

  “Yep. It’s mostly ashes, but the Alliance logo is visible.”

  “Was it in the house?” asked Macy.

  “No, there’s an outdoor fire pit near the river. It’s only a ten minute walk away from the house.”

  Macy hurried back inside the police station. “Is it on the Crawley property?”

  “Yes, but anyone with a boat could access that section of river.”

  “Do they know when that fire pit was last used?” she asked Aiden.

  “According to the ranch foreman it would have been sometime last fall.”

  “Has Crawley been seen down there?”

  “There’s a lot of staff that work in the house and on the grounds. We’ve not had time to interview all the potential witnesses.”

  “What about the wife? Crawley says he was with her the night Philip Long died.”

  Aiden’s voice sounded strained. “Bob lied. Charlotte says he was out.”

  “Why would Bob Crawley be involved in something like this? He’s got plenty of money.”

  “Maybe the story Long was researching had something to do with Bob Crawley’s software company.”

  “We really need to find Long’s computer.”

  “You coming up this way?”

  Macy checked the time. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Give me a shout if you find anything else.”

  * * *

  There were several patrol cars parked along the Crawley’s poplar-lined driveway and one forensic team van backed up next to the garages. The three-story windows on the east side of the house reflected the cloud-choked slopes of the Whitefish Range. A strong wind whipped Macy’s hair into her face. There was shouting coming from inside the house. Charlotte Crawley was letting everyone know exactly how fed up she was with her husband’s behavior.

  “Robert, you’re an idiot. That woman was a drug addict for fuck’s sake. Your behavior has put the whole family at risk.”

  Macy stepped inside at the same time Bob Crawley was being led away in handcuffs. He stopped walking as he came alongside Macy.

  “I didn’t do this,” he said.

  “You come up with a solid alibi and I just might believe you.”

  Charlotte Crawley was tall and had an athletic build. Her auburn hair was loose and she was dressed casually in jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. Her dark eyes fell on Macy and stayed there.

  Macy had the distinct impression that she was being carefully assessed as she moved through th
e house. There were a few crime scene techs working in Bob Crawley’s office. She took a quick peek inside.

  “Anything of interest?”

  “We’re checking his computer now.”

  “Let me know if you find anything.”

  Macy glanced over her shoulder. Charlotte Crawley was still watching her. The crime scene tech noticed.

  “I don’t think she likes you.”

  “Does she like anyone?” asked Macy.

  A shrug. “She seemed to be pretty chummy with Aiden Marsh.”

  Macy fought the urge to throw daggers right back at Charlotte. Aiden was friends with the family. There was no reason to suspect anything, but that didn’t stop her mind from going into overdrive. You’d have to be blind not to notice that Charlotte Crawley was an incredibly attractive woman.

  “Where is Police Chief Marsh now?” asked Macy.

  “Not sure. Last I heard he was heading outside to the garage to talk to Ryan about the off-road bikes that are stored there.”

  * * *

  Macy found Charlotte staring into an open refrigerator. Her expression hadn’t softened.

  “Charlotte Crawley?” said Macy.

  Charlotte slammed the refrigerator shut.

  “Can’t you people just go already?”

  “Your husband may have been involved in a serious crime. We’re not going anywhere until we’ve searched the entire property.” Macy paused. “It could take a while due to the size.”

  “The unexpected downside of having a large home.”

  “I doubt it’s ever listed as a potential problem in the property brochures.”

  “Who are you anyway?” Charlotte asked. “I feel like I’ve already talked to pretty much everyone who works in law enforcement in this part of the state.”

  Macy didn’t bother trying to shake Charlotte’s hand. She pulled out her badge and held it in the air between them. “My name is Detective Macy Greeley, and I’ve been sent here from Helena to lead the investigation into Philip Long’s kidnapping and murder. I have a few questions.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to talk to anyone else.”

  “I’m afraid you need to make the time.”

  “None of you understand how difficult this is. I have to make arrangements for my children. If the press gets wind of what’s happened it’s going to be all over the news.”

  “I appreciate how disruptive this is for your family, but I have to insist.” Macy tipped her head toward the outside terrace where some tables sat next to the pool. “Let’s go sit outside. You look like you could use some fresh air.”

  Charlotte pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a band that had been looped around her wrist. There was a pack of cigarettes on the table. She took one out and lit it with difficulty. She didn’t look like someone who smoked regularly. Macy decided it was better to get right to the sharp end of the conversation.

  “When did you first learn about your husband’s affair with Carla Spencer?”

  “This isn’t easy to talk about.”

  “It never is, but the sooner you talk the sooner you’re free to go.”

  Charlotte looked down at the table.

  “I hadn’t been feeling well for a while. I was scared. Cancer runs in my family, so naturally I went to see my doctor.” Charlotte laughed nervously. “It turns out I’d contracted hepatitis C.”

  “And you’re sure it was from your husband?”

  “It’s the only thing that made sense. I hired a private investigator. He sent me some photos of my husband and Carla Spencer in various stages of undress. You’re welcome to see them.”

  “Did you confront him?”

  Charlotte stubbed out the cigarette without smoking it. “I was in the process of filing for divorce, so I was advised to keep what I knew to myself for the time being.”

  “When you spoke to Chief Marsh earlier you said that your husband was out of the house on the night of Philip Long’s murder. Are you absolutely sure that is correct?”

  Charlotte barely nodded.

  “Were there any other unexplained absences over the past couple of weeks?”

  “He’d go out sometimes and not come back until late. It wasn’t unusual. If you need the dates and times I have them.… Now that I know the truth about what’s been going on behind my back, I’ve been keeping a diary.”

  Macy scribbled a few notes. “Did your private investigator discover anything else about your husband that could be of interest to us?”

  Charlotte tried to slide another cigarette out of the pack, but her hands were shaking too much. She crushed the box in her fist and threw it aside.

  “There were other women. With the exception of Carla they were all quite young.” Charlotte breathed deeply. “It’s really fucked with my confidence. I’m forty-four this year. I can’t compete with an eighteen-year-old.”

  “You shouldn’t have to.”

  “But it seems that’s precisely what I’ve been doing for the past few years.” She pressed a tissue to her eyes. “I’ll send you the file.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Macy. “This must be awful. I really appreciate your cooperation.”

  Charlotte gazed out across green rolling hills and pine forests. Beyond the trees, the Flathead River flowed slow and wide.

  “You’d think that all this would have been enough for anyone,” said Charlotte.

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Sixteen years in August. I don’t know how I’m going to tell the children.”

  “You’re stronger than you realize. You’ll find a way.”

  “Aiden said you were nice. That I should be nice to you.” Her eyes fell on Macy again. “Sorry about earlier. I’m not usually such a bitch.”

  “Under the circumstances I wouldn’t think too highly of other women either.”

  “Other women aren’t really the problem though, are they? Bob had lost respect for our marriage. Once that happened we really didn’t stand a chance. Anyway, it’s done and I don’t want to talk about those women anymore.”

  Macy handed Charlotte a packet of tissues she had in her bag.

  “I need to ask you about a fire pit that’s down near the river. Do you recall seeing anyone burning trash there recently? The ranch foreman says it’s not been used since last fall.”

  Charlotte yanked her hair out of its band and twisted the elastic loop in her fingers. “I walk the dogs down there sometimes, but I can’t say I’ve noticed anything unusual.”

  “Has there been any change in your husband’s behavior over the past few weeks?”

  “We’ve been fighting a lot, but that’s been coming from me, not him. He seems his usual gregarious self. It almost made me feel guilty about the bomb I was about to drop in his lap.”

  “We’re having some difficulty understanding why your husband would have been involved in Philip Long’s kidnapping. Have there been any problems with your finances?”

  “My lawyer hired a forensic accountant to go through everything. I’ve been assured that our finances are in good order.”

  “Do you know if your husband has had any professional or personal dealings with Philip Long?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “We listened to his radio program sometimes, but as far as I know Bob has never met him.” She paused. “What happens now?”

  “Your husband lied to us about where he was on the night of the murder. Unless he comes up with an explanation for his whereabouts he will remain in custody. There are several motorbikes in the garage. A couple of them are specifically for riding off road. How often does your husband use them?”

  “He and my eldest son go out sometimes. I can’t say I approve. As a family we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in emergency rooms.”

  “Where are your children now?”

  Charlotte glanced at her watch. “They’re at school. I’d appreciate it if you were done by the time they get home.”

  “We’ll do our best, but it might be a goo
d idea to delay their return for as long as possible.”

  “Am I free to go? I’d like to go pick them up. I could take them out somewhere for dinner.”

  “That would probably be a good idea, but before you go I’d like you to send me the information your private detective gathered on your husband. It will be interesting to see if any of the other women are connected to the case.”

  * * *

  Aiden and Macy walked along a trail that cut across the low hills on the western side of the Crawley’s property. Clouds moved across the sky at dizzying speeds. At the moment the sun was shining through and it was the warmest it had been since Macy had arrived in the Flathead Valley, but the distant horizons told another story. A storm was coming. Before the path dipped down to a dense stand of pine trees that bordered the river, Macy turned and gazed back up at the house. She couldn’t imagine how someone could get bored with the view.

  “If someone burned that bike gear down here I think the smoke from a fire would have been seen up at the house,” said Macy.

  “Crawley could have done it at night. It might explain why he left the job unfinished.”

  “He’s not a seasoned criminal so there’s lots of scope to screw things up. I noticed you were speaking to his wife, Charlotte. You’ve socialized with the Crawley family so you must have some insight. What’s your take on the wife? Is she angry enough to land her husband in it?”

  “You think she might be lying about him not being here?” asked Aiden.

  “Considering how he’s behaved, she has every right to be angry. She’s been meeting with lawyers, forensic accountants, and private detectives. She already knows she can screw him financially. Getting sole custody of the kids would be an added bonus.”

  “You have a point, but I don’t see Charlotte doing something like that. She’s a good person. Besides, someone has tried to destroy evidence. He has no alibi so there’s every reason to think it was Bob.”

  The ground beneath the trees was thickly carpeted with pine needles. Crime scene tape wound through the woods, blocking off a clearing of about thirty square yards. In the center thick logs that had been split lengthwise served as seating for a fire pit. The far side of the clearing opened up onto the shores of the Flathead River.