“Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Just some of it. It wasn’t a friendly conversation, I could only hear bits and pieces when they raised their voices. He said things like, ‘accidents happen’, ‘lose control’, and ‘sick dogs’ and finally something about a ‘long way from the fire department’. Then I heard Danielle practically screech at him, ‘Leave my home at once and don’t threaten me or my dogs again or I’ll call the police!’
“Well, Mister, I had been standing there so frightened and stunned I couldn’t think what to do, but when she said this, I decided I had to get out of there before he came busting through the door. I ran around to the side of the house and plastered myself against the wall, hoping they couldn’t hear my heart pounding when they opened the door. I didn’t move again until I heard the door slam behind him and his car start down the driveway. I was terrified!
“Danielle didn’t come down to the kennel for a couple days after that, which was very unusual. She always came down, even if only to talk to me and the dogs. I couldn’t imagine why she was staying cooped up in the house, but a day or so later André was visiting her and brought me some mail–which she always did. He said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“When was all this, do you remember, Terry?” Jankowski asked.
Terry licked her lips, twisted a lock of hair and squirmed in her seat. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe about a month before Danielle disappeared. I wondered about Mr.Pierce, but decided not to say anything. Mr. Thompson seemed so sure that Danielle had just left because she was upset about the Oyster Bay mix-up and would be back soon. Then, by the time she was reported missing and the cops came around, I kind of forgot about Mr. Pierce. I guess he scared me enough for me to block him out of my mind.”
“Do you know anything more about Mr. Pierce? Danielle’s sister, Mrs. Stearns, mentioned that he was from Michigan.”
“I don’t know if I even knew that. However, most of the competitors we saw were from the East Coast; I don’t know where he lived at the time and I don’t remember if I ever saw him again after Danielle disappeared.”.
Sensing Terry had told him all she knew about Pierce, Jankowski said, “O.K. Now tell me about the last time you saw Danielle.”
“Oh, it was so long ago, I try not to think of it.”
“Think of what?”
Terry straightened, absently staring at the chairs in the far corner. When she spoke, it was in a hushed monotone. “Mr. Thompson came by that morning with my check and asked me to go to the house with him to review things for the next week’s dog show with Danielle. I said we already did that, but he insisted. When we went into the house, the living room was a mess. It looked like someone had strewn trash all over the floor, some chairs were overturned, and the phone jack was pulled out. Danielle wasn’t around. We looked through the house, calling her but got no answer.
“I didn’t know what was going on until Mr. Thompson said Danielle got angry with him during a phone call the night before. An application had been returned and Millhaven Kennel had been disqualified. He said he explained that he would fill out another one and send it in the morning, but she hung up on him.” Terry stopped, suddenly aware of where she was, and looked uneasily about her.
“And?” Jankowski urged her on, hoping she wouldn’t get distracted.
Terry sighed, shifted in her seat and continued, “We discovered some of her clothes were gone, some jewelry and her Dodge Caravan as well. Finally, Thompson told me to mail the application in town and take the rest of the day off, go to the movies or something; he would straighten things up. He figured she had one of her tantrums and would be back sooner or later. He didn’t seem too upset, so I tried not to be, but it wasn’t easy.”
“What did you do after that?” Jankowski asked, scribbling on his notepad.
Terry sank back into her chair, reluctant to continue.
Trooper Jankowski leaned on the edge of his chair. “Look, I know this is hard for you, but we’ve got to find out what happened that day; it’s important. Especially now that a skeleton has been found on the property. What happened next?”
She nervously pushed her hair back and played with her earring. “When I got back, the house was dark. I went straight to my apartment, checked the dogs and then went to bed. The next day Mr. Thompson was there bright and early, wanting to know if I had seen Danielle. I said I hadn’t and he helped me take care of the dogs. The next few days were like that. I felt spooked and abandoned.”
“I know how you feel. When I lost my wife, I felt abandoned for a long time.”
Skeptically Terry looked directly at Trooper Jankowski for the first time, wondering if he really cared about her feelings or was he acting like a “good cop” on some of the TV programs.
“When Danielle didn’t return, didn’t you think of going to the police?”
“Mr. Thompson said no. He thought it was just one of Danielle’s quirky ways. She had gone away before, so he wasn’t worried.”
“How did things work out, with Danielle gone?”
“Well, I was worried, but Thompson seemed to take charge of things and I needed my job, so I went along with his orders.”
“That must have been quite a job, taking care of two dozen dogs!”
“It was, and Mr. Thompson wasn’t happy with my work. He started complaining about everything. A while later–some months later or maybe a year–he started taking some of the dogs to his place. He even entered them in shows under his own kennel’s name, Harmony Kennels!
“Oh, that broke my heart. I loved those dogs; they were so great. They would do anything I commanded. But I could see Mr. Thompson was getting discombobulated trying to take care of the house and Danielle’s dogs plus his own kennel. Finally he sold the ones he didn’t want.”
“And then you moved out?”
“Well, he made me leave. But he was very helpful, steered me toward a job and helped when I started college.”
Jankowski asked about the help Thompson had given her and it became apparent Terry had been unable to support herself and pay for schooling. He wondered if Thompson was still giving her money. After meeting him, Jankowski didn’t think it was his nature to be charitable. Why was he helping her? Did she have a hold on him?
“Why would he give you money after you left?”
Terry glowered. “Well, it’s not for sex or anything like that, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s way too old for me. I just think he knew Danielle said she would take care of me.”
“Is he still giving you money?” Jankowski asked.
Terry turned away before answering, “Well, you know, it’s been tough, since I left Danielle’s, to get back on track toward my career goals.”
She’s skirting the issue, he thought. But he let it go, deciding to check on this later. Would Thompson have written her a check or given cash? After a pause, Jankowski changed the subject, asking how long she had been going to school.
“Three years, this is my last year. Going part time has taken me twice as long to get my associate’s degree. I want to apply to school in North Grafton, Vermont early next spring.”
“That’s Tufts University vet school?”
“Yes, one of the best. I really have to crack the books this year if I want to get accepted. By the way, do you think I can leave now? I’ve got to go to class.” She closed the book she had been pretending to study before he arrived and stuffed it into her tote bag. She flung the strap over her shoulder and rose to leave.
They walked out of the Student Union into the cool night air and went their separate ways. Terry controlled herself until she was sure the officer was out of sight. Then she collapsed against a wall, thinking, Oh, Jesus, what have I gotten into? Why is all this happening now? I thought Chuck said everything was taken care of. Did I give the right answers to the cop? Did I say the same things I said five years ago? I’ve tried to forget about that day and then he comes and starts asking questions.
Suddenly she straig
htened, searched for her car keys and started walking quickly toward her car, mumbling to herself, I can’t go to class! I’ve got to get home and check my journal. I’ve got to see what I wrote about that day, she thought as she sped out of the parking lot, maneuvering past incoming cars with their stereo speakers blasting away. She drove through Kelley Square and onto the expressway.
Twenty minutes later she dashed into her apartment, threw her books down on the bed and headed for the bookcase, not bothering to take off her coat. She bent down to the bottom shelf and began opening her journals. There were no dates on the outside, but each one had a beginning and ending date on the front flyleaf. She grabbed a journal and looked at the dates before dropping it on the floor. Nope, too early. She searched several others, without finding the time period she was looking for.
Taking a deep breath, she took off her coat, sat on the floor, pushed her hair behind both ears again and scolded herself–all right, take it easy–let’s do this right. She went back to the early journals and reread each date, putting them in order–Aug. 86-Jan 87; Feb. 87-June 89, and laid them aside. Then came journals dated July 89-Nov. 90; Dec. 90-June 92; July 92-July 93; Feb. 96-Aug 98; Sept. 98–wait a minute, she thought. Do I have them mixed up? Where’s the one starting in August 93?
She recalled how dejected she had been, having to move, and dreaded to unpack everything or find a place to put them. In desperation, she had started a new diary when she realized that carton was still packed. Months went by before she had unpacked the books and placed them in her bookcase. Now she searched the blue denim books once more, stacking them neatly on the floor. When she reached her current journal, she stopped and stared at the collection. It’s not here! I distinctly remember writing down everything about that horrible September–Danielle. And later, when her sister reported her missing and the cops snooped around. Then Chuck helping with the dogs, and finally, selling the dogs and telling me I had to move. Where is it? Did I leave it at Danielle’s?
No. She visualized her kennel apartment when she had finished packing her few things. The bookcase was empty; two dreadful paperbacks lay on the top shelf, but all the blue denim journals had been packed. The sofa bed, naked without her throw pillows, the kitchen counters bare, the closet a hollow shell. She was sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She remembered it looked so deserted and strange even before she moved her boxes out.
She brought cold fingers to her mouth to stifle a cry–I’ll never know if I told Jankowski the same things that I told the other cop when Danielle was reported missing. Jeeze! That journal has been gone a long time! Now I really need to talk to Chuck!
The phone shook as she tried to steady her hand to dial. It rang for a long time, while Terry rocked back and forth on the floor, her heart racing.
“Hello, Harmony Kennels,” Thompson’s voice came across in a professional manner. “Please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency with your animal, please call 555-6279.”
Terry hung up the phone, crying to herself, “Oh, no. He would have to be out! This is an emergency, but not for an animal.” She had postponed calling him about money, but it couldn’t wait now. Taking a deep breath, she thought, I better calm down before talking to him. That trooper really got me rattled. I’ll call back in a little while.
She returned to the bookcase and forced herself to slowly search the journals once again before admitting that the journal was gone. Well, maybe I can remember enough to write it down again, she thought, as she pulled a piece of paper out of her algebra notebook and slowly began to write.
* * *
Johnny Larrock walked silently through the woods bordering his back property line, cautiously on the lookout for deer tracks and for other hunters. They would have easily seen the tall, solid-built young man scouting the area, carrying a long rifle close to his body. His weather-beaten face and dark short beard masked his twenty-eight years. The dark piercing eyes held untold secrets.
The day had begun cold and a weak sun had done little to warm him; his reflective-orange jacket collar mingled with his beard and his cap’s orange earflaps. The early morning dew caused droplets of water to dampen his clothes and boots as he pushed his way through the thick woodland.
With his 30-06 cradled under his arm, he hoped to scare up a deer. Stalking a tawny deer in the green and brown foliage was like trying to find Waldo in a “Where’s Waldo?” picture, but last season he had bagged two just a short distance from his cabin and his girlfriend’s family was delighted with the tasty venison. He knew gutting the animal immediately and correctly was the difference between a wild taste and a scrumptious steak.
The cold was getting to him. In the hour he had been out he hadn’t detected any deer tracks or nesting sites under the trees. Reluctantly he turned back, and decided to detour to the Stoddard place before heading home. Last weekend he had found the note someone had left on his door, but hadn’t bothered to do anything about it. He had learned Dottie Ann Weeks, the one who left the note, was his new neighbor but he had little inclination to make her acquaintance. Now his curiosity caused him to investigate.
He had had problems with Ms. Stoddard years ago, and had ignored his neighbors altogether since then. When he first moved into the little cabin he decided to be self sufficient, cutting his own wood for heat and cooking. He enjoyed the feeling of chopping and splitting the trees. It was a diversion from his job of climbing telephone poles to string TV cable.
In a big-hearted moment he had offered to cut and stack wood for her. She accepted and paid him each fall for a new cord. Then one day a man in a three-piece suit with dark hair and a conceited manner curtly told him to stay off the property. Johnny protested that he hadn’t gotten paid for the last delivery, but the man gruffly told him to get off and stay off the property.
He remembered yelling back, “Thanks for nothin’, I’ll fix YOU! This ain’t the last you’ve heard from me! Just make sure you keep those damn dogs from waking me in the morning or there’ll be some fireworks!” He spun his beat-up van around the house, dirt and gravel flying as he drove off.
But that was years ago. Now he parted the last of the bushes and stepped into the clearing. The house was dark and grim, its massive window-wall shadowed in the daybreak by the trees. There was evidence that someone had begun clearing the grounds surrounding the house; the kennel door stood open and a gray Subaru was parked in the driveway. He wondered if he should cut across the property. Then with a devil-may-care attitude, he silently trudged through the wet weeds and disappeared into the path that tied the two properties together. He just might stop by and say hello one of these days, but not today.
* * *
“Horton here,” Jankowski heard, as he picked up the phone. “Got good news. The skeleton is indeed that of your missing woman! The forensic report came in today, Mrs. Stearns’s sample matches a tooth from the skeleton. Now it’s got a name–Danielle Stoddard! Just as we thought, she had to be in the tank five or six years, to be so clean. That ties in with the Chuck Thompson interview, that he last spoke with her on September 13, 1993.”
Horton paused and let the information sink in. “I thought I’d call you instead of just faxing the info, thought you’d appreciate that. This is really a step forward. Now all we need to do is find the murderer and why she was murdered. Do you have any hunches yet? Better still, any solid facts?”
“Good to hear from you,” Jankowski sat up straight in his swivel chair. “That is good news. Well, so far we’ve got–Chuck Thompson and Attorney Harold Reagan had access to her funds, did they manipulate the books? Thompson didn’t get upset when she turned up missing and in fact wouldn’t have said anything if the sister didn’t call in the police six months later. Did he have motive to get rid of Danielle?
“Terry Vaselekos lived on the property at the time, and seems a little mousy, but quite a nervous type. Would she have a reason and the strength to stuff a body in the tank?
“Reagan
as a lawyer seems shoddy, agreeing to file a will that named him trustee and his friend Thompson as primary beneficiary. But would he risk his license for one client’s money? Well, depends on how much there was to split. Maybe. But I doubt it.
“André Lizotte–where does he fit in? Did he turn on Danielle, when he left her?
“I haven’t found Ransom Pierce yet, but I’ve got a pleasant lady at the American Kennel Club researching him for me. Unfortunately, they went to computerized records some years ago and some of the old stuff hasn’t been put in yet. That data is somewhat disorganized and difficult to sort out, but she’s looking when she has a minute. Short of a search warrant, I don’t feel I can push her–she’s a good-natured, helpful person so far.”
“Well, we’re nowhere near a warrant yet,” Horton said, “so I’ll leave you to your charming ways with women; I presume you have some.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jankowski answered. “I’m a little rusty, but I’m working on it.
“Let’s see, anyone else? Certainly not the sister, Elizabeth Stearns. Or could it be that? She found out about the will and was enraged not to be included?
“And the only neighbor that is close enough, Johnny Larrock, he’s a strange shadow on the scene. Where does he fit in? I’d better go talk with him.
“They’re all repeating the same story they told five years ago,” Jankowski continued. “But here’s something interesting I picked up from the interviews–when I asked about the last time Thompson had seen Danielle, he talked about the phone call with her the day before. When I asked Terry the same question, she started talking about the day she disappeared, not the last time she had seen her. What do you think?”
Horton and Jankowski threw ideas back and forth over the phone for a while before deciding the next step would be for Jankowski to go the Bahamas and interview Attorney Harold Reagan, who had never given a statement. They both agreed it would be important to talk with him to learn what happened to Danielle’s money. Horton had already received permission for the trip and urged Jankowski to make plane reservations as soon as possible.
Bones in the Backyard Page 14