by Carl Schmidt
“I guess we’re finished for now,” the detective said reluctantly. “Here’s my card. Please contact us if you recall anything that might help us with our investigation. It is likely that we will be dropping by for another discussion in the near future.”
The phrase, “I’m looking forward to it,” passed through my mind, but I remained silent. I didn’t want to encourage him or give him the wrong impression.
I took his card, and, to be neighborly, I put out a hand for him to shake. He eyed it suspiciously, said “Good day, Mr. Thorpe,” and moved toward the door. As Vance turned to follow his leader, he tipped his cap to Holly. He was either being neighborly in return, or he was hoping it would placate the snarly German shorthair standing at attention by her side.
38
Southern Migration
“Mr. Wilhelm seemed irritated with me. Was it my fault?”
“I don’t think so,” Holly replied.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned what my mother calls me,” I suggested.
“He’s a police detective, Jesse. His job is to get to the facts without alienating the people he’s interviewing. He let your casual remark interfere with his primary purpose. Badgering a witness is a last resort. He came through the door with an attitude. Ranger picked up on that immediately.”
Holly’s remarks were somewhat reassuring, but I was not entirely convinced. As an employee, she might be taking my side to help solidify her job.
“There’s something else to consider, Jesse,” she continued. “You solved the Lavoilette murder when the entire FBI and Maine State Police had come up empty. The appropriate response from him would be to thank you, as a private citizen, for your help. I suspect that Detective Wilhelm is grinding his ax. There’s an excellent chance he let pride get the better of him.
“There are approximately twenty homicides in the entire state of Maine each year, and 90% of them are solved in a fairly routine manner. Cases with very few leads are given to the leading detectives in the state. There’s little doubt that Wilhelm worked the Lavoilette case, too, and virtually no doubt that he knew exactly who you were before walking into your office. He showed no respect at all. He’s obviously a detective with a chip on his shoulder.
“Oh, and by the way, how long have you known the Bushes?” she asked with a wink.
“Papa George and I go way back,” I replied. “We played baseball together in college.”
“I seem to recall that George Senior played first base at Yale in the mid 40’s. Weren’t you born in 1979?”
“Well, yes, but I picked up the game at an early age.”
• • •
Normally, Angele works in our office on Mondays, but since we’d been in New York most of last week, she was downstairs today making up for lost time. She missed out on the morning fireworks but came bouncing into the room a few minutes after the detective and his buddy left the building.
“What was that about, Jesse?” she asked.
“We’ve been invited to the policemen’s ball on St. Paddy’s Day. Detectives are making office visits with the invitations.”
“Really?” she replied. “Are you going?”
“I told him I couldn’t make the ball this year because I plan to be with you in Italy at that time.”
A smile spread across her face like strawberry jam on whole wheat toast.
“Wait a minute, Jesse. Your birthday is the third of March, and St. Paddy’s Day is the seventeenth. So, you’re thinking two weeks across the pond now, rather than just one?”
“Who knows, Peaches? Maybe we’ll stay a month.”
“Now I know something’s up,” she replied. “Did that sergeant hit you over the head with his night stick?”
“Not that I can remember,” I said, but to double check, I let my hands roam over my melon hunting for lumps or soft spots.
Angele allowed me to finish my search before asking the obvious question.
“OK. So what really happened?”
This time, I told her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but.
She eyed me for a moment and said, “I think we should tell them everything. Why not let the authorities pick up Joe and Sophia? They are the real suspects.”
“If we did that, we’d be hanging Xavier LaGrange out to dry, Angele. He had plenty of motive and opportunity to strangle Nicole.”
“But he has voice recordings of blackmail,” she insisted.
“The voice cannot be identified, and Xavier could have had an accomplice make those calls. We know he didn’t, but the police might think otherwise. His career would be over, and he could go on trial for one, and possibly two, murders.”
She thought about that for a few moments, then turned to Holly and asked, “Did Jesse fill you in on the New York and Worcester details this morning?”
“Yes,” she replied, “as soon as he got here.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“It’s a tough call, Angele, but I think we should wait to see what happens on Wednesday night when Xavier is contacted again.”
Angele didn’t reply. She appeared to be on the fence, but she walked over to my desk and kissed me.
“I’ve got to go, Jesse, but I’m with you whatever you decide,” she said encouragingly, and then added, “I just don’t want you to end up in a pine box.”
A number of witty comebacks came to mind, but there was enough gravity in what she said to prevent them from getting airborne.
“Thank you, Angele,” I replied. “I appreciate the solidarity.”
She kissed me again and went downstairs.
When she was out of sight, Holly turned to me and said, “She’s a keeper.”
I nodded and replied, “Yes, she is.”
• • •
Holly returned to her work on the Allied Shipping account, and I got back to my Internet search for information about Joe Dunham and Sophia Stockbridge.
Joe spent two years in a Rhode Island prison for possession and sale of a controlled substance. He was released almost eight years ago, and, as far as I could tell, he’d been a free man ever since, but with no work record that I could find.
Sophia had been arrested once for possession of a small amount of cocaine, but she’d never spent any time in prison.
I downloaded photographs of both of them, blew them up to 8x10, and printed several copies of each. Before the ink had dried, I received a call from Eric Cochrane.
“Jesse,” he said, “I’ve been keeping tabs on the Woodbury home.”
“What’s been happening?” I asked.
“For one thing, Tina is going to give you a call. She and Leo discussed how they might approach you to see if you are Xavier’s bodyguard. They haven’t solidified a plan on that as yet, but you need to be ready. She’ll probably start by asking you for her thirteen grand. What are you going to say if she asks you outright about Xavier?”
“That one is pretty simple, Eric. Our client list is confidential. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll be as opaque about him as possible. Anything else to report?”
“Yes. She called Tony several times on Sunday evening and again early this morning, but he never picked up. She left a message for him to call back—immediately. She’s anxious about Joe and Sophia.
“She and Leo also talked about going to Florida for the rest of the winter…to ‘lay low and stay warm’ was how he put it. Leo says they need to go to Tony’s place to pick up enough cocaine and grass for three months.
“Last night about ten o’clock, she finally called Sophia and asked about Tony. Apparently, Sophia told her that Tony never got there. After Tina hung up the phone, she told Leo that Tony had called Sophia from his car and decided to go straight home.”
“But Tony did drive to Sophia’s house, Eric. The GPS tracker put him in her driveway just before 5:30. His Jaguar left there about two hours later and drove straight to his house in Waltham. And one more thing…his car never made it inside the garage. It’s still in the
driveway and must be under four inches of snow.”
“That’s odd,” Eric replied. “The Jaguar looked as if it had just been washed. It was spotless inside and out except for a little salt that was stuck on the fenders.”
I thought a minute and then said, “If Tina and Leo mention going to Tony’s place, drive over and follow them to be sure they get on the turnpike. Then, go back to their house and remove the recorder; it won’t do us much good there. I’m sure they’ll lock their place up securely, but if there’s any way to get inside without actually ‘breaking and entering’—do it. Have a look around. She’s up to her eyeballs in crime.”
“Yeah, but if she’s on her way to Florida, she’ll button the place up tight,” Eric said. “And she probably has a home security system.”
“Right.”
Neither of us said anything for several heartbeats. Eric broke the silence.
“How about this? Let’s leave the recording device on the window for now. After they’re on the turnpike, I’ll find a way to get inside their place—whatever it takes—and then, I’ll get the hell out of there. We can listen to the sound recordings over the next couple of days. If no one drops in to check on security, we’ll have free run of the place. There’s bound to be something there to help us with the case.”
“It’s risky, Eric,” I said.
The next thing out of my mouth surprised us both.
“But I like it.”
“Great! All I ask is that you bail me out if I get pinched.”
“You can count on it.”
• • •
It was almost noon when Tina called.
“Jesse Thorpe Investigations,” I said. “May I help you?”
“Jesse, this is Tina Woodbury. I’m sorry I didn’t get back with you earlier. I’ve been out of town.”
“Down south where it’s warmer, I hope.”
“Not yet, but I am planning to go to Florida and thaw out.”
It was encouraging to hear that Tina occasionally tells the truth.
“I suppose you want your check,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “Thanks for your help. Have you managed to determine Frank’s physical address?”
“No. We talked on Skype. He told me that he would prefer to handle the alimony payments through the mail and not give out his exact location.”
“What is he afraid of? Does he think I’ll send someone over to mess with him?”
“I don’t know why, but he was definite about wanting to be invisible,” I replied.
I don’t always tell the truth, myself. But like everyone who lies, I had my reasons.
“I take it you are in your Portland office?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“How late will you be there today?” she asked.
“We normally close at five. Do you want to drop in and pick up the check?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“It will be here for you. Just let me know when you’re coming. And drive safely on the roads; they’re covered in snow.”
“I can see that, Jesse. I already called the DOT to see if the turnpike is clear. They say it’s fine. I’ll be there no later than 4:30. I’d like to see you then, if possible.”
“I’ll be here,” I replied.
“Thanks again,” she said and hung up.
“Holly, I have a job for you.”
“Name it,” she replied without hesitation.
I opened the desk drawer and pulled out a GPS tracking unit.
“I’d like you to stick this under the bumper of Tina’s car when she arrives. There should be plenty of parking spots on the street, so my guess is that she will park close to the front entrance of the building. Station yourself downstairs from 4:00 on, and watch for cars that park on the street. You’ll recognize Tina, and here is a picture of Leo Wallace.”
I handed her a copy of the photograph Billy had taken in Tina’s home.
“As soon as you see her enter the building, attach the unit to her car. You’ll probably want to leave Ranger here, so when you’re done, come back in to get him and call it a day.
“If, by chance, Leo remains behind in the car, ask Angele to go outside after you, and have her distract Leo by asking him directions. While he’s focused on Angele, you should be able to make your move. But, hopefully, the two of them will come in together.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
I then called Eric back and told him that Tina, and probably Leo, would be leaving Augusta about 3:30.
“I’ll go there after it’s dark and do my thing,” he said.
• • •
Tina and Leo knocked on my office door at precisely 4:38.
“Jesse, this is my friend, Leo Jensen,” Tina said. “Leo, this is Jesse Thorpe.”
We shook hands, and I invited them to sit down at my desk.
“I have your check, Tina,” I said. “I’d like you to sign a receipt for my records. If you can wait a minute or two, I’ll print it for you.”
“Take your time,” she said. “I’d like to chat with you about something.”
I got her check from the drawer and then prepared a receipt from a standardized form on our computer. As I was doing that, Holly came back into the room. Leo and Tina had their backs to the door. Holly smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.
“Just here to collect Ranger,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Jesse.”
“Good night, Holly,” I replied.
Tina signed the receipt and handed it to me.
“Thank you, Tina. I’m happy we were able to locate Frank for you and get him to settle up,” I said. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“As you know, Jesse, my good friend, Nicole Shepard, was murdered about ten days ago at the Rutland Arms Hotel. It was a total shock. I had known her for over twenty years. But, you know, it’s the darndest thing. She told me she was going to meet with Xavier LaGrange on that Saturday afternoon—the very same day she was strangled.”
“Really?” I said with a tone of surprise. “Who is Xavier LaGrange?”
“He’s an actor,” Tina replied. “I’m sure you’ve seen him. He’s been in a number of movies. His biggest role was in the James Bond film, Dead of Night. It came out a few years ago.”
“It doesn’t ring a bell. Hold on a minute, let me Google his name. Did you say, ‘LaGrange’?”
“Yes,” she replied with a somewhat quizzical look.
I ran a search and pulled up his IMDb page.
“Oh, yes. I recognize him now,” I said. “I’ve seen him in a couple of movies.”
“Yes. Well, I was wondering if by chance you had heard any news reports of his arrival in town.”
“Until this moment, Tina, I wouldn’t have recognized the name. Besides, I don’t listen much to the local news, unless it pertains to a client. So, no, I didn’t hear anything like that. Did he stay here long?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Nicole and I actually met Xavier a few years ago on Cape Cod. We got a chance to hang out with him at a party.”
“Do you think he and Nicole were involved?”
“I guess they must have been, since he flew here to see her in the middle of winter. Who comes here in winter, Jesse?”
“Almost no one,” I replied.
“Nicole was not the type to kiss and tell, so she never said much about him, but I imagine they had a thing going. I just wonder what happened to him when Nicole turned up dead.”
“I can’t imagine,” I replied. “That is very curious, though.”
Tina sat there for a while without saying anything. Leo pretended to be wallpaper. Undoubtedly, Tina was searching her pretty little head, trying to think of a new strategy to extract information from me. I continued to play dumb, and finally she gave up.
“Well, we’re headed to Florida,” she said. “It was eighty degrees in Miami today.”
“Lucky you, Tina. Some of us have to mind the store and shovel snow,” I said. “Let me know where to s
end the monthly checks while you’re gone.”
“Just hold them unless I contact you. I probably won’t need the money till spring.”
“Are you driving all the way?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Take care on the roads; they’re probably icy,” I said.
“Thanks,” she replied as they stood up.
Leo stayed behind her while Tina extended a hand. As we shook, she held on and stared at me a little longer than one might expect. Apparently she was hoping to see through my poker face, but I managed not to fold under the pressure.
39
Remote Possibilities
“There’s one thing that doesn’t make sense, Jesse,” Angele said, as we were washing and drying the supper dishes.
“Only one?” I asked.
“Well…one stands out.”
“What’s that?”
“If Joe and Sophia drove Tony’s car back to his house, why didn’t they put it into the garage? Surely he had a garage door opener in his car.”
“Maybe his remote requires a code,” I suggested.
“Yeah, but Tony must have had keys to his house. They could have gone inside, opened the garage door and put everything in order.”
“Why bother? Wouldn’t they want to just get out of there?”
Angele responded, “So where’s Tony’s body? The ground’s too hard to dig a grave, and I doubt they’d drive for an hour into Boston with Tony in the trunk.”
“It is puzzling, honey. Maybe Tony is alive and well, but his garage door is stuck. That’s more probable than murder.”
Angele pressed on, “So why did Sophia lie to Tina? We know Tony drove his Jaguar to her house.”
While I was scratching my head, Angele answered her own question.
“They committed murder once, Jesse. The second one was a lot easier.”
Angele’s eyes glazed over. It was obvious what she was thinking, and a pine box was mixed in there somewhere.
“Let’s open that bottle of Zinfandel you’ve been saving for a special occasion,” I suggested.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.