by Rich Foster
Harry rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. Too many loose ends floated in his mind.
“The legal case against the LLC wrapped up in early ,92 and the bank was given clear title again. They held it for a year and a half. I went over to Walagen and their vice president, Walt Newlander, was in their loan department back then. He said they contracted locally to fix the property up into a saleable condition.”
Harry watched Paula move as she talked and tried to keep the facts straight while he followed her figures.
“So construction work was going on in 1992?”
“Yes. They listed the house in August, hoping to sell it before the end of the season, but it didn’t move until the following Spring. The Kummer Family Trust bought the property and owned it until this past year when some assets of the trust were being liquidated following the death of Alice Kummer”
“So everyone local knew about Amber Wood and almost anyone could have gotten in there?”
Harry wasn’t actually talking to Paula, just musing to himself. “I don't need this, let's go out to lunch.”
After lunch, Harry left Paula to go see the sheriff.
The sky was returning to azure blue. To the northeast the pallor of smoke was lighter. A gentle breeze rippled the surface of Red Lake. Harry drummed his fingers in time with an instrumental version of an oldie that played on the radio, recalling words about a loving feeling or a broken heart
The Sheriff's lot was empty. All available deputies were in the field due to the fire.
“What’s up, Jimmy?” Harry asked Jimmy Hughes who manned the front desk. “Why aren’t you patrolling the lake?”
“I got pulled off to be a desk jockey until the fire is over. I hope to be on the water this weekend.”
“Is Gaines available?”
The blinds to the Sheriff’s office were closed.
“Sure, go on in.”
Gaines was bent over his computer.
“Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“I was thinking about our conversation the other night. Did you get out to see Dave Barnes, if not I’d like to tag along when you go?”
“Can’t say I made it. The fire knocked it off my calendar. Shore Road is open again. Do you want to go now?”
Harry shrugged. “Why not?”
The Sheriff’s cruiser was parked behind the building. As they climbed in a wave of superheated air rolled out. Gaines turned the AC to high and rolled the windows down. He pulled out and turned left on the highway. Soon the temperature dropped and cold air came from the dash vents.
“Any new ideas on the Albright case?”
“Paula and I were kicking it around this morning. It comes down to money, hate, or revenge. I have a couple people who could have paid her off but no proof.”
“Like who?”
“It turns out that Ray Holland got $50 thousand and a sports car in his divorce. He could have given Alison the money.”
“Or she may have stolen it from him if they were having an affair?”
Harry glanced over. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Gaines rolled the window up. They moved along with the summer traffic, as they worked there way through the downtown.
“He was arrested for statutory rape in 2003.”
“Paula ran a background check on him and we came up with nothing.”
“It depends on the server’s data base. Ours are a bit more thorough when it comes to arrests and convictions.”
They cleared the downtown and the cruiser picked up speed. Soon the houses gave way to the fire area. A short ways above the road the hills were blackened. Ash still blew around on the pavement driven by passing cars.
“Holland was at a private school in Eugene for six months. The father of one of the students claimed Holland raped his daughter. They picked him up. At first he refused to talk. The girl said it was consensual, so they charged him with statutory but it turned out the girl’s father thought his daughter was still seventeen.”
“He didn’t know his own daughter’s birthday?”
“Heavy hitter. Too busy making money to be a parent. The girl was a senior. She swore they never had sex until her eighteenth birthday. The locals couldn’t break her story so Holland walked.”
“So he does like them young?”
Gaines nodded. “Yeah and this is from a decade ago. It was probably even easier for him at 35 instead of 45.”
“Guess he bares a second look, but we may be wrong. This may not be the money.”
Traffic was light. Gaines sped up to 65mph. Three miles later, the road began to snake along the shore and they had to slow down. Sunlight filtered between the trees. Occasionally the burn area reached down to the shoulder of the road.
“You have any other ideas?” Gaines asked returning to the subject.
“A doctor in town, Otis Oliver. You ever hear of him in connection with anything illegal?”
“Nope, why?”
“Alison went to see him every week for two months. Her birth control prescription camefrom him. But, Oliver’s former office nurse said Albright was never billed and that Otis was always irritable after she left.”
“What do you make of that?”
“Her mother swore Alison would never go to Oliver, so I thought maybe an abortion or drugs? I don’t know.”
“Doctors do have money.”
“Sure, but what could she squeeze him for? And if he paid her off, why kill her?”
Gaines passed a slow moving line of fire trucks heading back out to the fire line.
“Maybe she got greedy?” Gaines suggested. “There’s not much to warrant me talking to him officially, why don’t you go do what you do best, piss him off and see what he has to say.”
“Good cop bad cop, huh?”
“Yeah, but just remember you’re not a cop.” Gaines said with a wry smile.
They slowed and the Sheriff swung into the long drive of Amber Wood.
“I’m in the wrong line of work,” he observed as he parked among the pick-ups of the various trade workers.
The air was more pungent with smoke at this end of the lake. Although the prevailing winds was pushing the ash to the east so the area was ash free.
While they were still walking toward the house, the front door opened.
“Officer?” Dave Barnes asked. “How may I assist you?”
Barnes vernacular has come a long way from his Red Lake roots, thought Harry.
Gaines extended his hand. “Sheriff Gaines, Canaan County.”
“Dave Barnes, but I expect you knew that?”
“Not the face, but that you lived here. This is Harry Grim, he’s along for the ride.”
Barnes eyes caught Grim and recognition showed in them.
“You were out here last week.”
Harry nodded in agreement. Barnes didn’t offer his hand.
“I’d ask you in but the painters are working and it’s a bit of a tip.”
Harry wondered where Barnes picked up his English slang. Wouldn't it be easier to say dump? I doubt he comes by it naturally.
Gaines unconsciously stroked his mustache.
“I wanted to ask you about a party that took place twenty years ago.”
Barney’s eyes darted angrily at Harry. “What about it?”
“How did your face get scratched?”
He put his hand to his face quizzically.
“Back in 92,” Gaines added.
“How the hell should I know,” he snapped irritably. Then in a calmer voice he asked, “What scratches? That was twenty years ago. Who can tell you what happened a particular night two decades ago.
For a moment the facade cracked.
Gaines plowed ahead. “Well we're not talking just any old night, it was your graduation, it was a party, there was an orgy with an underage girl, she disappeared but not before she mailed blackmail letters to everyone, and the next day, according to a witness, you had deep scratches on your face.”
Color rose
in the Barnes' face.
“Are you implying that I was involved in criminal acts?”
“I am asking,” Gaines said flatly and firmly.
“Who said there was an orgy?”
Tension filled the timber of his voice.
“A number of witnesses who participated.”
“I don’t know anything about blackmail, nor about that girl’s disappearance. And I don’t recall any scratches on my face.”
Gaines ran a free hand over his mustache.
“I think you should call your attorney, Mr. Barnes.”
Panic leaped to his eyes and fear filled his voice, “Am I under arrest?”
“No, but we are not done. I think you are lying through your teeth. So I figure it will save time if you lawyer-up now rather than when we get back to the station.”
“I don’t have to take this. Good day!”
Barnes went to close the door but Gaines reached one hand and firmly stopped it.
“David Barnes you are under arrest as a material witness until you can testify before the Grand Jury.”
“You can’t do this to me.” He looked around bewildered. “I’m in the middle of a remodel. I have business obligations!”
Gaines shrugged. He reached for his handcuffs. Harry suspected Gaines of theatrics. It worked.
“Why don’t we go down to the boathouse and talk. I think we can work this thing out.”
The cuffs slid back and with a loud click, the cover snapped shut.
“Lead the way.”
On the second floor of the boathouse, Dave Barnes tried to be the good host. He offered drinks. He offered chairs. He offered cigars. Gaines and Harry took the chairs. Only Barnes took the drink. While he paced with nervous energy Gaines sat silently observing the view across the lake.
“What do you want to know?”
To his surprise Gaines asked “You lived next door back in 1992, correct?”
“Yeah, I guess, I mean yes. But what does that have to do with Alison?”
“So you knew the house well?”
“It was boarded up and vacant. I was never a guest here.”
Gaines shook his head slowly, as if grievously disappointed.
“Kids partied in this house. And you want me to believe you were never in it? This is a murder investigation and you are in the middle of it.”
Barnes went back over to the small bar and refreshed his drink. He swirled the amber liquid around and looked into the glass for answers. Finally he said. “Sure, I was in there, everyone came here, there’s no crime in that.”
“Actually there is. It is also a crime to have illegal intercourse with a minor. Blackmail is a crime too, but the statute of limitations is up on all of those, so why are you so nervous?”
Barnes took solace from his drink. Gaines waited. Harry hadn’t said a word since they arrived.
“Yeah I had sex with her. We all did and I got a letter.”
“Did you pay?”
“No. She never said where, I didn’t have any money back then, and the girl was just a slut. Who would ever prosecute us?”
He found liquid strength in his glass.
“How did your face get scratched? Was it Alison?”
Panic flared again. “No, it was in the backyard. When the police arrived we all ran. I tripped and went headlong through a rose bush. The thorns dug deep. My face bled like a son-of-a-bitch.”
Barnes had lost his cultured manner. He killed his drink and poured a double.
“I need you to tell me when you last saw Alison Albright.” The words were an order not a question.
“It was coming out of the house after the party. Travis Parks was holding her hand as he dragged her toward the woods. She was pretty high and kept falling.”
Barnes shifted with agitation.
Probably sees his cushy life going up in smoke. Harry quietly drummed his finger tips together.
“So how did her body end up in your kitchen under the stairs?”
Barnes choked. Bourbon sprayed across the room. “What?”
Gaines drove in hard. He leaned forward toward Barnes, “You must have been pretty shocked when Danby tore out the wrong wall and found the body?”
“What the hell are you talking about? There wasn’t any fucking body in the house!” Barnes hands shook so hard the remaining bourbon escaped in small leaps.
“That’s because Frank Danby moved it,” Gaines said placidly easing back into his chair. “You lived next door in 92, what do you know about it?”
Barnes legs failed. He settled down onto the sofa.
“I don’t know anything. Cripes, you think I’d buy a house if I knew there was a body in it?”
“You might. That’s if you hid her body and couldn’t get near it for the last twenty years.”
Barnes just shook his head, and moaned, “No, no, no!”
Gaines raised his eyebrows at Harry, who looked back and shrugged his shoulders.
“So who killed her Dave?”
Barnes was miserable. His face was slack from the hard hits of liquor.
“I always thought it must have been Travis. Parks was the last one I saw with her and nobody saw Alison after that.”
“What did you do when you got her demand for money?”
“I asked around. I realized we all got them and that it was a set up. I figured we could all swear nothing happened or swear she was charging to fuck. Anything to make her go away!”
“Anything?”
Barney’s face turned ashen. “It was no big deal, we all took a poke at her. Hell didn’t you ever get a piece in school?”
Gaines didn’t answer, he settled for a curt, “Thank you, Mr. Barnes, we’ll see ourselves out.”
*
On the way back to town Harry did not have a great deal to say. His client was the last one seen with Alison. It gave him a bad feeling.
“Is he guilty?” the Sheriff asked out of the blue.
“I could put together an argument for it. He acts guilty as hell.”
“I figure his anxiety is tied up in being successful and having money. Right now Davy Barnes is afraid it might all go away.”
“That won’t last, Sheriff. Once he gets on the phone to his attorney he will clam up and feel better.”
“I reckon. I wanted to go after him when his guard was down.”
“You sure as hell did that when you told him about the body.”
“How did you read his reaction?”
Gaines rolled out to pass a sedan that having seen the squad car in it’s rear view mirror, slowed to a ridiculous speed. He came back over the yellow stripe and into his own lane.
“Barnes was shocked rather than scared. He seemed to have trouble putting it together.”
“Well ain’t we smart!” Gaines said with a self-depreciating grin. “We both read it the same way.”
They rode silently with their own thoughts until they came close to town.
Gaines spoke up. “Of course he could be acting. He’s had twenty years to get ready.”On the other hand, maybe he's right, perhaps Parks killed her.
Harry said nothing. He needed to talk to his client.
Chapter 22
After leaving the sheriff's office Harry headed straight for Beaumont. Clients lie, that's a fact of life. Harry told himself. They always hold something back figuring it's not relevant, but Parks went over the top, he was the last person seen with Alison Albright, and he never mentioned it!
Harry hit the steering wheel with his fist.
After cooling down he thought, Why am I angry? By now I should expect this sort of crap!
The mountain pass was crowded with tourist traffic. Harry impatiently followed a pickup towing a battered fishing boat. The nicked prop, corroded bright-work, and dull fiberglass offended his nautical aesthetics. If a man wants to buy a boat, he should damn well take care of it. Slowly they descended the mountain. Even when pull off areas presented themselves, the pickup chose to ignore them. Harry tried his ho
rn. That only brought a one finger salute from the driver ahead. He took a deep breath and told himself, just relax. He repeated it like a mantra, but it did not work.
At last they reached the flatland north of Beaumont. Tall grass covered the fields, and cattle placidly munched behind barbwire fencing. Harry dropped the pedal to the floor and blew past the boat and truck. In his rear view mirror he caught a glimpse of the driver’s final single finger salute. Five minutes later he entered Beaumont. It was stop and go in the downtown. His ill humor from the road clung to him.
The Parks for 12th District campaign office bustled with young people wetting their political wings. A disproportionate number were good looking females. Either girls are more politically aware or Parks’ is more pleasing to the female gender.
Harry strode past the receptionist at the front desk, who was left to call after him, “May I help you? Sir? Sir!” her question faded into a comment of indignation. Harry did not slow when he reached the back of the room and as he reached for the office handle the rear secretarial guard protested from her desk, ““Excuse me, sir! You can’t go in there!”
Harry ignored her protestations. He went in unannounced and slammed the door behind him. The Candidate huddled around the conference table with two men and a girl, she was the one with the smeared lipstick and the ruffled blouse he had met upon his first visit.
Surprised faces angrily stared up at him.
“What do you want?” the bald and paunchy man asked peevishly.
Harry caught a glimpse of fear or possibly only concern in Parks’ eyes.
The girl with long hair whose lipstick was now impeccable flashed her dark eyes, “This meeting is private!”
“You’re right.” Harry said, “so get out!” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I need to talk to Mr. Parks.”
“I’ll call security!” snipped the younger man who sported good clothes and weak muscles.
Parks held up a dismissive hand. “It’s okay. This gentleman is taking care of something for me. Why don’t you give us a moment alone?”
The bald guy didn’t like it. He attempted to protest, but his eyes grew large, when he caught a glimpse of Harry’s shoulder holster, the gun being partially exposed when Harry pointed toward the door. The other staffers snorted and sniffed but retreated, shuffling papers as they went.