Spirit Lake

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Spirit Lake Page 20

by Vickie McKeehan


  “I didn’t say you were. What brings you out tonight?”

  “I need to know if there’s any truth to the rumors about Sam Wells.”

  Lando’s eyebrow popped up. “And you are?”

  “Greta Todd. Sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m a little nervous.”

  “That’s okay. Why don’t you take a seat and tell me why you’re so interested in these rumors?”

  Greta slid into the booth but fidgeted in her seat. She curled a strand of red hair nervously around her finger. “I was in the band at school before I graduated last May.”

  To make the jittery girl feel more at ease, Gemma thought the best way was to get her talking about something else. “What instrument did you play?”

  “The flute.”

  “I love the flute. It’s like listening to the wind. Or maybe it’s more like poetry,” Gemma said, giving Greta a chance to settle down. “Everyone loves the lilting sound it makes. Are you planning on going to college?”

  Greta nodded, and stopped twirling her hair. “Next month I’m headed to College of the Redwoods and then hopefully on to UC Davis. I want to be a veterinarian like Dr. Song. She got me a scholarship and helped me with student housing.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I bet you’re excited for a change of scenery. I love animals, too. So does Lando. We have two dogs now, Rufus and Rolo. What brings you here tonight so late?” Gemma finally asked, laying a hand on top of Greta’s so the girl might not dart off. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, we’re here to listen and help if we can.”

  Greta chewed her lip before deciding to go on. “It’s like this. I’ve been in band forever since fifth grade. In high school there were lots of times we practiced late until almost six o’clock, especially during football season. It gets dark early after daylight saving time ends.”

  “Okay.”

  Greta glanced around the table, afraid she wasn’t making any sense, and started twirling her hair again. “About two years ago, after band practice, I was walking past the stadium and this guy pulled up in a fancy sports car, a BMW, I think, a silver one, or maybe it was gray. Anyway, he pulled to the curb and motioned me over. That evening it was dark and my friends had already left so it was just me. I’d stayed behind to talk to the band director about using a song I wanted to add to our play list. Anyway, just as I got past the football field, this guy tries to talk me into getting closer to his car. My radar went up and I managed to stay put where I was on the sidewalk. But the guy, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was doing his best to talk me into getting into that car.”

  Lando sat up straighter. “Did you recognize who was driving?”

  Greta nodded again. “It was Sam Wells, the guy running for mayor. I know of course that he also runs the bank and owns the radio station. But I didn’t realize he might’ve tried to pick up other girls until I heard it from Brandy Murphy this afternoon. I just wanted to know if it was true? The gossip? Did he try to pick up other girls?”

  Sitting next to Dale, Denise cleared her throat. “Sam tried to do the same thing with me when I was fifteen. He used to drive by the high school as class was letting out. It was common knowledge back then. He’d pull up in that red Fiat he used to drive and try to talk anyone he could into going for a ride. Well, anyone if they were female. Back when I was there, it happened to me one afternoon when I was walking home alone.”

  Across the table, Dale looked like someone had slapped him. “He tried to pick you up, a fifteen-year-old girl? Why didn’t you mention this before now?”

  Denise studied Greta. “Because I didn’t realize until this minute that all the talk I’ve heard has a ring of truth to it and it does more harm keeping quiet than telling someone. Don’t think for a minute it was just you, Greta. Sam Wells has always been a predator of one kind or another.”

  “It happened to Alyssa, too,” Greta said quietly. “But our parents don’t know it happened at all. I never told mine and Alyssa never told hers.”

  Lando had a hard time with what he was hearing. “I wish you girls had told someone, anyone, a teacher, a parent, a cop. I’m sorry you kept it to yourselves. But if this ever happens to you again, if you’re ever approached by a stranger like that again, I beg you not to keep it a secret. Tell someone, don’t keep it to yourselves.”

  “It was no big deal then.”

  Lando exchanged exasperated looks with Gemma.

  “But it was a big deal,” Gemma managed. “Do you think it happened to others like Brandy Murphy?”

  “Probably. I think that’s why Brandy was so scared when she heard the rumors.”

  Lando all but growled. “And all this time, no one talked?”

  Greta adjusted the strap on her purse. “Well, he didn’t get any takers, now did he? There was talk around school not to get into his car.”

  “Why did you come forward now?” Lando wanted to know.

  “Because Brandy and Alyssa said that Shonna mentioned it to Susie Hedemann and Susie thought Mr. Wells might be meeting up with other girls. Susie said those other girls disappeared. It got all of us thinking.”

  “You’re all very smart young women,” Gemma provided. “But I think we need to drive you back home now.”

  “It’s okay. Brandy and Alyssa are waiting for me outside in the car. They didn’t want to come in and go on record.”

  “Which makes you the brave one,” Lando stated, getting to his feet to walk her to the front door. “Look, I can’t make you girls tell your parents, but I think you should. I know they can be a pain sometimes, but they need to know this because they care what happens to you.”

  “But if I tell them, my mom and dad will freak. They might not let me go away to college and live on my own. It’s only an hour and a half away from Coyote Wells, but it means the world to me to take this step. And I’ve already paid a deposit on an apartment with two of my very best friends. I’m afraid my parents might overreact and not let me go.”

  “That’s why you need to show them you’re a responsible adult just like you did by coming in here and telling me.”

  Greta let out a deep sigh. “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Chief. Do you really think Mr. Wells killed people?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it isn’t right that he tried to pick up high school girls, now is it?”

  Greta shook her head. “That’s what we thought, too.”

  “Thanks for coming in tonight. You girls be careful. Go straight home.”

  “We will. We’re sleeping over at Alyssa’s house tonight. I’m sure my friends will grill me about what I said back there.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  Lando made sure Greta got into the car with two other girls. He even wrote down the license plate. Before he could take a bite of his now-cold omelet, Zeb added his two cents. “Looks like turning up the heat is paying off. Starting the rumor mill was the right thing to do. People are beginning to talk about Mr. Sam Wells and it’s not the good kind of gossip.”

  “His past is coming back to haunt him, even around here. Turning the rumor mill loose was the perfect way to get his attention.”

  “Sam’s not the kind of man to let this go,” Gemma pointed out. “He’ll be madder than a hornet.”

  “That’s okay,” Zeb declared. “We want Sam angry enough to start worrying and making mistakes. Lando and I are pretty sure he set up Arlo and then killed him. We just have to prove it.”

  Lando bobbed his head. “We get him for Arlo, then we can take our time making a case that he murdered Chloe, and then so on, right down the line to Jane Doe. But first we have to nail him for the latest one and that’s Arlo.”

  “I’d like to make a suggestion,” Luke said from the end of the table. “You know Sam’s history at the bank. Exploit that. Dig hard into Sam’s financial dealings, his real estate holdings. Over the years, he’s foreclosed on a lot of property. That’s public record. There are a lot of pissed off former homeowners out th
ere who’d like nothing more than to take Sam down.”

  Lianne had been silent up to now, but she finally made her opinion known. “Luke’s right. Even if you’re tracking a serial killer, follow the money. Always follow the money.”

  21

  It was only a matter of time before all the stories floating around town reached Sam Wells. Dressed in another one of his pricey three-piece suits, he came calling at Gemma’s door at seven-thirty, setting the dogs to barking.

  Gemma opened the door dressed in her pajamas and holding little Rolo in her arms. Unwilling to put up with the man’s demanding attitude at this early hour, she made no attempt to get Rufus to settle down. Instead, she let him yap at the banker for a good minute or so until finally snapping her fingers for quiet. “If you want a campaign contribution, you’re going about it all wrong.”

  The banker barely looked at her as he rushed into the foyer and was greeted by a snarl from Rufus. “Put that mutt away. I’m here to see Lando. I need a word with him. Now!”

  Being this close to the man she’d seen with Chloe, Gemma’s sense of evil kicked in. “That mutt belongs here. You don’t.”

  From behind her, Lando let out a laugh, leaning up against the doorjamb. “What’s the matter, Sam? Did someone step on your lawn and you came here to make an official report about trespassing?”

  “You know very well why I’m here. You purposely set those ungodly gossips into overdrive with all those lies about me killing girls. I’ll have your badge for this nonsense and that’s after I file a lawsuit for libel.”

  “You mean slander,” Lando corrected. “Libel would be a published false statement. I haven’t published anything about you. Yet. We all know it’s a small town, people tend to talk. It’s not a crime to gossip.”

  “You’re running a smear campaign against me. You’re out to tarnish my reputation, my good name. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I didn’t know you had a good name,” Gemma sneered. “And your reputation is scheming to foreclose on hardworking people. Sort of like old man Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life. What would a bank examiner find if he crawled up the bank’s books, Mr. Potter? Or your financials?”

  “See? Right there, that attitude is disrespectful. Come September, I’m the next mayor. I’ll run the lot of you out of town.”

  Lando crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at a killer. “You’re awfully upset this morning. I hope you don’t suffer from high blood pressure. I hear that’s a killer condition. I mean, look what happened to poor Arlo.”

  “Arlo was a nutcase. It was only a matter of time before he took his own life.”

  Lando shook his head. “But haven’t you heard? Weren’t you listening? Arlo didn’t, commit suicide, that is. Someone stuck the gun in Arlo’s wrong hand. It seems he was a lefty. A long list of people will testify to that. His mother, Duff Northcutt, even Bruce Plunkett, the guy he went hunting with all the time. Half the town knew Arlo was lefthanded, except maybe his killer. And the rifle was unregistered. Why would Arlo use an unregistered 30-30 to shoot himself when he had any number of pistols in his own private gun collection? And why would he choose to off himself on the side of the road? If he’d really wanted to do that, he could’ve just walked into his own study. Much easier that way. Instead, he gets up early and goes out to meet someone in the middle of nowhere. See how odd that seems to me, Sam?”

  Gemma decided the look on the banker’s face was sheer panic.

  “Who knows what a fool like Arlo would do? Especially when the authorities over in Crescent City were looking at him for Cheri Taylor’s murder.”

  “How did you know that?” Lando asked, standing up straight and getting within a few feet of Sam. “Who told you about Cheri Taylor?”

  “Crescent City PD called and inquired about Arlo’s employment record.”

  Lando knew no such call had been made because he’d talked to the police chief there himself. Which meant Sam was lying. “Why would they call you?”

  “Because now that Marshall is behind bars, I’ve taken over running his investments.”

  “I see. So you’re saying you gave them Arlo’s work history?”

  Sam rubbed his forehead as sweat broke out on his face. “That’s what I’m saying. Couple that inquiry with the fact that Arlo’s the one who shot at you at the cabin and I was trying to help out law enforcement.”

  “We certainly need more citizens like you to step up and tell the truth,” Lando stated, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “Everyone says he shot at you. It’s common knowledge. I was trying to help.”

  “Not everyone, not anymore. You really are behind when it comes to the latest news, aren’t you, Sam?”

  “But…that’s what I heard.”

  “You heard wrong. It’s an open investigation, which means I can’t talk to a private citizen about the details, even if you are one of the town’s most influential businessmen.”

  “Those rumors better stop,” Sam cautioned.

  “Or what? It’s not within my power to stop people from gossiping about you,” Lando pointed out. “But don’t be surprised if people are finally catching on to your shady loan practices. And since you’re here, can I ask why you got rid of your Fiat? The 1984 Fiat you got for your sixteenth birthday.”

  “I needed a newer, better car, something more suited to a banker,” Sam said, poised to explain. “Five years ago, that’s when I got my promotion to bank president.”

  “Lucky you,” Gemma noted. “For my sixteenth birthday, I got to drive Marissa’s Buick. And Lando drove an old green pickup.”

  Sam adjusted his Christian Lacroix tie. “Yes, well, some of us came from good stock, people with financial know-how.”

  “I hope financial know-how isn’t code for excelling at lying, cheating, and stealing. Or worse,” Gemma said, leaning closer to Sam.

  “I think we’re done talking,” Lando stated. “We haven’t had coffee or breakfast. Stop by my office tomorrow. I’d love to dig deeper into these rumors that are upsetting you so.”

  Sam huffed and turned on his heel for the door.

  Gemma scooped a hand through her hair and set Rolo down on the floor. “That man makes a formidable enemy.”

  “First thing tomorrow I get Luke and Zeb and whoever else wants to help us hit the county records office. Did you see how pale Sam turned when you mentioned crawling up the bank’s books? He’s hiding something.”

  “He’s dirty in more ways than one. We need to pore over some of those contracts from the mortgage company that he’s so proud of, see what’s under the rocks,” Gemma said as she headed for the kitchen. “I need coffee. Facing down evil without caffeine should be outlawed.”

  “Hard to believe I once thought he was a decent enough guy.”

  “Psychopaths are known for their charming ways. But it’s bugging me that he could one day very soon become your boss.”

  “Only for a day. I’m sure he’d fire me on the spot after they count the last ballot.” Waiting for the coffee to brew, Lando checked his emails. “Candace Stewart sent me an attachment with a preliminary sketch of Jane Doe.”

  Gemma darted around the counter to get a better look. “She’s finished already?”

  “No, it’s preliminary,” Lando repeated.

  They stared at the phone until the attachment opened and the composite of a teenage girl popped into view. Candace had created the image in color. Together they studied Jane Doe with her striking youthful features, especially around the eyes, and her cherub face. She had long, straight brown hair, with bangs that hung down to her eyebrows.

  “She looks like she could’ve been a cheerleader,” Gemma noted with some sadness.

  “I’m thinking of going ahead and sending this out across the country to every agency I can, including the FBI. If Jane Doe was on the radar of any law enforcement as a missing person, someone might respond.”

  “Is it too early to go to the Doe Network and upload this to the s
ite?”

  “Depends if it can be adjusted at a later date.”

  “I’ll check their requirements.”

  “Candace sent a note with it. She thinks Jane was probably more like thirteen.”

  “What makes her think that?”

  “Something she picked up on from the autopsy. Some of her bones around the knees were just beginning to fuse together. Candace thinks Jane was probably another full year away from reaching fourteen.”

  “Wow. That would make his first victim, his youngest yet.”

  The coffeepot gurgled and finished the cycle. Lando got down cups from the cabinet. “It’s almost too much to comprehend, how a guy like Sam was driven to kill at such an early age. He had everything going for him, classy Stanford education, monied background, parents who doted on him from day one.”

  “Money doesn’t exclude a person from having psychotic tendencies. Look at Leopold and Loeb in Chicago, circa 1924. You can’t blame what they did to Richard Franks on violent kid games or TV shows. They were warped from the start.”

  Lando massaged his temples where a headache had begun to throb. “I need to think. Let’s get out of here for a while. Let’s take the dogs out to Zeb’s and let them run around, maybe take Gypsy and Bandit for a run.”

  She reached over to rub his shoulders. “Good idea. There’s a lot of pressure on you to solve this thing. I feel the tension building inside you. Next week will get even worse. We picked a heck of a time to get married, right in the middle of a murder investigation that involves the biggest jerk in town.”

  “His position in town didn’t keep us from bringing down Montalvo and it won’t keep us from nailing Sam.”

  By mid-morning, the day had turned muggy and overcast. A haze floated between the peaks of Fire Mountain and the lush greenery of the woods around Spirit Lake.

  Long Shadow Stables was a busy place where riders had come to spend a lazy August day on horseback. They could ride as far as the eye could see, on acreage that stretched into a valley with rolling hills and timbered basins surrounded by some of the most scenic real estate in Northern California.

 

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