“Could I get you something to drink?” Mr. Stevens asked.
“No, thanks, we just had coffee in town,” Kate replied.
The elderly man unfolded the old, yellowed documents and began to give them the life-story of his great-grandfather who originally owned the property. Then on to his grandfather who inherited the land when his father died. Both had been farmers and tilled the land quite profitably until the Depression. That’s when the land became insurance to keep in their back pockets to sell when times became desperate.
Mr. Stevens had managed to hold onto the property until about six months ago when he put it up for sale. “My wife and I would like to buy a little place down south, in Florida, in warmer weather,” the old man said. “She’s now looking for the perfect little spot for us.” He reminded Kate of a little elf with his rosy cheeks.
After they’d listened to his stories, Kate managed to interrupt him long enough to ask him if he knew the names of the people who bought the land. “Oh, yes. They said their company was Valhalla by some lake but I told them I couldn’t call them Mr. Valhalla or Mr. Whathishandle and wanted to know their names.”
“And did they tell you their names? It’s urgent. We have to know their names as soon as possible,” Kate insisted.
“Hang on now.” The old man shuffled through the pile of papers and opened up a file fastened with a big rubber band. “Hold your horses,” he mumbled while he searched in the large file. “Here they are.” He had four business cards in his hand. “These are the men who own the company.” He handed them to Kate who handled them as though they were gold.
“Dutch, look at these,” she said, handing the cards to him. Her hands shook with excitement.
“Terrific,” he said. He glanced at the names embossed on the cards. Black type on cream card stock stared back at him—Patrick Oldham, Sam Donell, Thomas Berkeley and John Winchell.
“I’ll write these names and addresses down—oh, there’s phone numbers too.”
“No need to,” Mr. Stevens said. “You can keep the cards. I have no need for them anymore.”
“I appreciate it,” Dutch said as he stood. “Well, we hate to run, but we have more clues to follow. So we’ll be saying goodbye and thank you so much. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
“Wait a minute,” the older man said. “Hang on. Don’t be in such a hurry.” He pulled more papers from the pile of documents on the table. “Here it is.” He waved a grubby envelope at Dutch. “Here’s an attorney’s name and address.”
“The buyers’ attorney?” Dutch snatched the envelope out of the man’s hands. “Roger M. Rhodes from Rosslyn. Fantastic. This is another missing piece of the puzzle. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” the man replied. “Just happy to be of help. Let me know if you catch those rascals.”
“Oh, we will.”
“Thanks again,” Kate interrupted. She turned to Dutch. “Time to go.”
“Yes, must hit the road.” Dutch shook hands with Mr. Stevens. “I’ll contact you when we’ve solved the mystery.”
Back in the truck, the discussion turned to how both of them were satisfied with the information gleaned that day. They were surprised that it was obtained so easily. Halfway home, Kate felt dizzy, like she was on a merry-go-round. “I have to take some time off, Dutch,” she said. “I’m exhausted. My store is being neglected, and my mum is left with a babysitter most of the time lately.”
“I understand, honey. You look worn out,” he said.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not a disparaging remark—only an observation.”
“You have the names of the suspects,” Kate said. “So you can go to the police and let them know, and maybe they’ll let you get a little rest for a couple of days too.”
“Yeah, you’re right. We’ve been on the run for a few weeks. Constantly go, go, go. I could do with a time out myself.” He yawned.
Kate rummaged in her handbag and brought out her cell phone. “Hello, Mum. How are you, sweetie? Uh-huh, uh-huh. We’re exhausted. We’re making great progress though.” There was silence for a few seconds while Mildred told Kate about her day. “We’d love to. It’ll save Dutch from going home and cooking for himself. Poor baby.” She slapped his knee. “We’ll be home in about half an hour. Uh-huh. See ya then.
“Mum’s made a huge pan of lasagna so she’s invited you to dinner. It’ll be early so then you can have an early night for a change,” Kate said.
The half hour went quickly, and they soon arrived at Kate’s home. The kitchen was warm and welcoming with the aroma of melting cheese on the lasagna in the oven.
“It smells absolutely yummy, Mummy,” Kate joked.
“Get outta here,” Mildred said. She dished out large portions of the pasta meal onto three plates and passed a large bowl of salad to her daughter.
“So where did you go today, dear?” Mildred asked, taking a mouthful of pasta.
Kate told her story and successes of the day. Her mother was surprised at them finally finding out the names of the corporate guys.
“I worry about you two. These guys have murdered three people and almost blown up another. I wish you’d wear a bulletproof vest or some kind of armor like it. During the war, they called them flak jackets when I was young.”
“I have Dutch protecting me, Mum,” Kate said. She was worried although she denied it to her mother. “Dutch has a revolver so he can shoot back.”
The kitchen wall phone rang. “I’ll get it.” Kate jumped up and grabbed the receiver. “Hi, Abigail,” she said. “What’s wrong? No…no. Have you called the police? We’ll be right over. Try to calm yourself.”
She hung up the phone. “You’re not going to believe this. Someone just shot a hole through my store window.” She felt faint. It’s catching up with me. I’m going to be the next corpse. She sat, trying to catch her breath. She was shaking all over.
Dutch took her jacket off the coat hook and placed it around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, just shocked.”
“Then, let’s go. Abigail needs us.”
“Right.” She put on her coat. “Mum—throw our plates in the oven to keep warm. We won’t be long.”
“Lock the doors, Mildred,” Dutch warned her. “Get your neighbor over here to stay with you until we get back. Don’t open up for anyone—only us.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kate says: Have an all-white kitchen or dining room? Decorate with blue and white jugs and plates. Add a dash of yellow (ceramic lemons or silk yellow flowers) or red poppies to make it pop.
Mildred phoned her neighbor friend who ran over to the house in her slippers and a coat slung over her shoulders. “I was just sitting there thinking, what shall I do this evening? Your call saved me from being bored,” she said. In the past, she’d told her friends that she loved going over to Mildred’s where they played canasta and watched old movies on satellite TV.
Kate and Dutch arrived at the store in a few minutes “flying low under the radar”, as Dutch called it. The street in front of the shop was deserted. It appeared that no one wanted to be close by when another bullet tore through the storefront window.
“This could ruin my business,” Kate said. She rubbed her arms. She suddenly felt cold.
Dutch put his arms around her shoulders and led her into Kate Bart Interiors. Abigail looked a little shell-shocked but was manning the cash register as one brave woman purchased a tablecloth. “I don’t know what this world’s coming to,” the customer retorted, “with murders all around town and now shooting shop windows. There must be a bunch of delinquents running rampant. The police are useless.” She snatched the bag with her purchase and stormed out of the door.
“So, where was the shot?” Kate asked.
Abigail stared at her boss. “I think the bullet went into the ceiling tiles,” she said, looking up at the ceiling.
Dutch saw a small hole in one tile. “Yep, looks l
ike it.”
Abigail looked disturbed. “I don’t think I’ll be working here much longer,” she said. “My husband said it’s too dangerous. But, Kate, I told him I’d keep working—with my fingers crossed—but if it happens again, I’m outta here.” With that statement she picked up her handbag from under the counter, dug out her car keys and walked out the door.
“I’m sorry it happened,” Kate called after her. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.” But Abigail left the parking lot in a swirl of dust.
“I think they’re only warning us,” Dutch said. He looked at the hole in the window. “I can patch the hole temporarily until the glass company can fix it. Luckily it didn’t shatter the whole pane.”
“Also lucky it didn’t hit poor Abigail,” Kate said as she locked the door and turned the sign around to CLOSED. “We have to call the police.”
“I did that already.”
“When?”
“When I was waiting for you to settle your mother. They said they’d be around shortly. No hurry because no one was injured—this time.”
A patrol car pulled silently into the parking spot in front of the shop, and Sergeant Bowers got out, carrying an equipment bag.
Dutch unlocked the door and let him in. “Hi, Sarge.”
The policeman looked serious as he began to take the information. “Not much to go on,” he said. “No fingerprints on a bullet,” he said sarcastically.
“Could be,” Kate snapped. “Not the same type of fingerprint though. If you locate the bullet—where it ended up—it could be traced to a revolver such as the one that killed the loan officers.”
The Sergeant gave her a look of disdain. He ignored her remark. “Did your store clerk tell you where it landed?”
“In the ceiling,” Kate said flatly.
Dutch pointed out the hole. “I’ll get the long stepladder for you,” he said. He went into the back storage room and emerged carrying a wooden stepladder.
The sergeant climbed up and dug around in the tile with a penknife. Something clicked as it hit the floor beneath him. “That’s it. Don’t let it roll away.”
He climbed down from the ladder and picked up the bullet with a pair of small forceps and placed it in a plastic evidence container. Then he wrote on it the date and location and initialed it with a black marker. “From what I can see, the trajectory of the bullet means it was shot from a low vantage point—probably from a car. Could just be a drive-by shooting.”
“Why would I be the target of a drive-by shooting?” Kate asked. “This is a small country town with hardly any crime. No, this is connected with the investigation into the real estate scam and the murders of three people. That sounds more logical to me.” She flopped into an armchair in a display setting.
“You could be right,” the sergeant said. “I’ll make out a report and start a file on this.” He headed for the door. “It’s my dinner hour. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Dutch said.
“Damn,” Kate said. “It’s the mob sending us a message.”
“I agree. Seems like I’m always agreeing with you, Kate. I haven’t had an individual opinion lately.”
“It’s okay, Dutch. We know that women are superior.” Kate giggled. “Just kidding you, honey. We both need time off for a day or two.” She got up from the chair and grabbed her handbag.
Dutch wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her hair, and kissed her gently. “We’ll do a quick check on my cabin and make sure it’s all right. Just make sure the alarms are set so if they detect any movements, the police or fire department will be called. Have to feed little Babycat too.”
“And then?” Kate asked.
“I’m going back to your house to finish my lasagna. Then I’m going to sleep on your mum’s sofa. It would be impossible to leave my two favorite women alone with danger lurking all around,” he answered.
“We have a guest room. You need your rest and that bed’s mattress is so comfortable. That’s what our guests have said anyway. And I’m curious to try it out myself.” She squeezed his hand.
“Sounds good to me,” he answered. “Let’s lock up and get over to my cabin. We shouldn’t leave Mildred too long. I know she’s with a neighbor, but she’s an elderly lady too. Not much protection in that.” Dutch turned off some lit lamps. Kate emptied the cash register drawer and put them in a fabric bag and zipped it shut. “Okay—let’s go.”
The cabin looked undisturbed, and the alarms were set to call whatever emergency service was needed. Baby was fed and happily curled up on the couch on a soft fleece blanket. His litterbox was clean. Dutch gathered up another set of clothes and toiletries. “I’m ready to stand guard for the night from a comfortable guest room.” Tough job—but somebody has to do it. He yawned.
Back at Mildred and Kate’s house, the neighbor went merrily on her way. Dutch walked her home, which made her feel “like a queen” as she said—no one treated her that way anymore—she felt like she was just another old woman.
They finished their meal, which had been interrupted, and the dishes were piled in the dishwasher. Kate looked at Mildred who looked a little tired and nervous. It’s no wonder she’s a wreck. Poor Mum’s doing the best she can, though.
The evening had turned chilly. Dutch piled some kindling wood on top of some newspaper pages in the fireplace. Once the flames licked the small sticks of wood, he stacked on some larger logs of wood that quickly began to burn.
Mildred snuggled in her overstuffed chair and knitted contentedly. Kate coiled herself around Dutch’s legs on the couch. The wood snapped and flared, its warmth permeating the room. “This is so relaxing,” Kate said. “I’m not as jittery as I was at the store.” I don’t want to say I’m afraid of what the next attack will be, but I am. That would scare Mum.
“It’s nice to be able to sit and watch a log fireplace with music playing softly in the background,” Dutch noted.
“I’m getting sleepy,” Kate said. She yawned.
“You should go to bed. Switch on the TV in your room and rest those bones and nerves,” Mildred said.
“I think I’ll take your advice, Mum.” Kate got up and kissed her mother. “Good night, Dutch.”
“Sweet dreams,” he responded. “I’m coming up in a minute. I’ll relax a little longer in front of this cozy fire.”
“Good night, dear,” her mother said.
Kate went into her room, put on her soft, warm PJs, cleaned her teeth, turned on the television set to a favorite program and propped herself up on a pile of pillows. She was soon in the land of slumber.
It was about midnight when the phone rang. “Hello,” Kate mumbled into the receiver. No sound came from the caller. She hung up. Jerks. She had fallen into a dead sleep when the phone rang again. Now she was angry. “Hello,” she yelled into the phone.
She could hear Dutch pick up the other extension phone.
“Whoever you are, stop harassing us. We’re trying to sleep here. But—I forgot—you could care less about us. We’re the innocent ones but you want us to suffer, don’t you?” Kate said. They could hear breathing on the other end.
Kate was creeped out as she put it and sneaked into Dutch’s bed for comfort. They snuggled, and the phone calls stopped. He cradled her in his arms, and she slept like a baby for the rest of the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kate says: To change a plain white dining room into an exciting room, paint the walls dark red and use pure white paint on the woodwork and trim.
The trio woke the next day with dark circles under their eyes despite having a fairly decent night of sleep. Kate and Dutch showered and dressed. Downstairs they found Mildred in the kitchen where she’d made a big pot of steaming hot coffee and cooked scrambled eggs and bacon with buttered toast. Dutch devoured his breakfast and left for his cabin to do some research on his computer. He would call the police and report the phone calls too.
Kate decided to visit her friend to help her relax. So s
he crammed on one of the royal blue hats, hopped into her SUV and headed out to Rachel’s house.
“Come in,” Rachel called out at Kate’s knock.
A little dachshund barked while he sat in his dog bed made out of a vintage suitcase.
“Hiya, Fritz,” she said to the dog.
“Ssh, dear, Aunt Carmella and Uncle Ralph are taking a nap—I hope. You don’t want to run into those two today,” Rachel said in a whispery tone. “How are you?”
“I’m hanging in there. It’s been a nightmare lately.” Kate pulled out a chair and sat at the dining room table.
“I’ve been reading about it in the newspaper. Are you helping Dutch with this case, too?” Rachel asked with a mouth full of pins.
“Yes, and it’s been so stressful. Every time we turn around another person is killed or narrowly escapes being blown up. I had to drop by to see you—you make me feel calm, somehow.”
“That’s so sweet of you. I’m happy to see you, honey.”
Rachel sat at her dining room table, which did double duty. It served for eating when company came but mostly was used as a sewing table. She inserted a length of fabric under the sewing machine foot and stamped on the control pedal, sending the fabric through the stitching.
Rachel pushed her hair off her face and looked at her friend over the top of her glasses. She flipped the small dress inside out and sewed up the back of the skirt. She held up the finished garment for inspection.
“So cute.” Kate took the dress in her hands. “Is she going to wear a hat?”
“Naturally. A woman is not a woman without her hat,” Rachel said referring, with a nod, to Kate’s addiction to headgear.
“Of course.”
“She’ll wear this big red hat turned up like this.” Rachel folded the front of the hat back and squeezed hot glue to hold it in place. “Then I’ll add this pretty silk rose and French wired ribbon bow on the front and glue in a little bird in a nest in the fold.”
“Adorable.”
“Thank you, dear. So tell me all about these people that have become involved with these scammers.”
Fleeced in Stonington Page 12