Chapter 10
It was too cold for McElone to interview Katrina outside on the deck now that it was dark. So for the second time in one day she was actually inside the guesthouse looking considerably more unsettled than Adam Cosgrove ever had. And Adam had been to at least three spook shows.
By this point a complete attentive audience had gathered for what had turned out to be the evening’s entertainment. Josh had showered and dressed and was watching with some fascination, and Melissa had come down in a much better mood having finished her homework. She sat next to me on a loveseat facing the lieutenant but behind Katrina, who appeared a little confused as to all the fuss she was attracting. Paul had not left the room but had retreated a little to get a better view of the whole scene, so he was hovering to my left and up about three feet. Even Maxie, who was zipping back and forth between the den side and the kitchen side of the wall with the bullet in it, was present, although it was unclear if she was paying any attention. Everett stood guard at the French doors, not holding his drilling rifle but in full military regalia. Everett takes his job seriously, even when nobody has asked him to do it.
I was there because Katrina had asked me to be there. I knew McElone better than she did and I was—prepare to be frightened—the authority figure in the house right now. Except for Josh. And Melissa. Mostly Melissa.
“So tell me,” the lieutenant said in her less intimidating tone (she has two tones, and one is less intimidating), “what exactly did you hear?”
This might be the point to say that McElone had wanted to interrogate Katrina alone, but Katrina, perhaps hoping Bill Harrelson would show up in the back and come in to corroborate her story, had insisted on staying in the den and having me, at least, present. Melissa and Josh were the only other people visible to the lieutenant, and she didn’t raise a serious objection to either being there, although she did warn them sternly not to talk. Like they wouldn’t have known that.
“I was just getting to sleep,” Katrina said. “I’d stayed up very late, first walking on the beach and then using some time to check things on the internet. I listen to sleep meditations every night before I go to bed, so I had one of those on in my room. It’s very quiet and nobody would hear it through the walls. The two other gentlemen in the house have a room that’s not next to mine, anyway.”
“Nobody is suggesting you were creating a loud noise,” McElone assured her. “We don’t think you did anything wrong. It’s what you heard that’s really important, and since you’re the only one who heard it, I’m especially interested in your story.” Which was a way of saying, hey lady, answer the question I asked. But McElone was being less intimidating.
“Like I said, I was just lying down to sleep and was feeling very comfortable and relaxed because of the sleep meditations.” Katrina didn’t realize, probably, the circuitous road she was taking to the point of her story, but McElone’s eyes were spinning just a little with impatience. “So it was especially troubling that there was all this noise coming from somewhere outside the house. I could tell it was the back even though I don’t have a window facing the beach.” Was that a crack about the room I’d assigned her? I gave her one with a walk-in closet, for crying out loud.
“What did it sound like?” McElone wasn’t really that concerned with Katrina’s satisfaction in room placement, but I made a mental note to ask my guest about it after this questioning was completed.
“Trucks,” Katrina answered, sounding like that should have been obvious. And maybe it should have, given that we already knew she’d seen the car being towed away.
“Trucks?” McElone repeated, emphasizing the last letter. “More than one?”
Katrina, not expecting that question, took a moment before answering. “No. I guess it was one truck. Or one of those big things that move the sand around on the beach.”
“An excavator,” McElone offered. She’d known what Katrina meant but wanted to get the terminology down so the questions could move on. “So you heard that. Did you know what it was right away?”
Katrina shook her head. “No, but I knew it was coming from the back where they were working. So I put on a jacket and shoes and went out to see what was going on.”
“It must have been odd to hear all that at two in the morning,” McElone said. “Why did you go outside?”
Katrina reddened just a bit. “I wanted to see if Bill Harrelson was out there working. Of course it was weird that it happened at that hour, but if Bill was out there it must have made sense, right? Because he’s in charge.”
McElone wasn’t picking up the signals. “You went out to see if the foreman was there? What difference would that make?”
“I just wanted to talk to him,” Katrina said. “We met earlier in the day and I thought it would be nice to talk to him again.”
Now McElone couldn’t miss the subtext. “Ah,” she said. “You have a crush on the guy. So you went outside. What did you see?”
“I don’t have a crush,” Katrina protested. “I was just interested in having another conversation. That’s all.”
McElone didn’t react facially or physically. Even her voice maintained its noncommittal tone. “What did you see?” she said again.
“I must have come out when they were finished. Maybe it took me longer to get dressed than I thought or maybe they were just working really fast.” Katrina still looked miffed at the idea of her having a crush. “But by the time I got there they had lifted the car out of the hole and were towing it away.”
“They?” McElone asked. “How many people were there?”
“Two. One driving the … excavator and another one in a dune buggy or something with an attachment on the back. He was dragging the sand and getting all the tracks out. He was almost done when I got outside, too. Then he drove away up the beach toward the street.”
McElone leaned forward, indicating this question was an important one. “Did you see either one’s face?”
Katrina closed her eyes tightly and pulled her lips together. For a moment I thought she was having some sort of stomach pain. “I’m trying to remember but it was really dark out there. They didn’t even have the light on the excavator. The guy dragging the sand had his headlights on but that didn’t help me see his face.” She opened her eyes and relaxed her jaw. “I’m sorry, lieutenant. I can’t say I saw either of them really. I didn’t get close enough.”
Everett had not moved what would have been a muscle. He could easily have filled in for one of those guys outside Buckingham Palace if he’d had the right suit.
“How long did you stay outside after that?” McElone asked her.
“After?” Katrina seemed confused. “I went inside as soon as they drove away. It was cold out. Why?”
“This morning the excavator was back on the beach, parked like nothing ever happened. I wanted to see if you’d been there when it was returned, but you weren’t. Did you hear it come back?”
Katrina shook her head negatively. “I went up and listened to one more meditation and then I fell asleep.”
McElone looked frustrated. “Okay. Thank you for your time, Ms. Breslin. I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions.”
Katrina, understanding she had been dismissed, stood up and shook McElone’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, lieutenant. I hope you catch these people soon. If there’s anything I can do while I’m still here, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”
“Believe me,” the lieutenant said, “I won’t hesitate.”
Katrina stopped as she walked toward the stairs, which I figured meant she was heading up to her room. “Are you a homicide detective, lieutenant?” she asked.
“I’m the chief of detective in Harbor Haven,” McElone answered. “I’m in charge of any case that requires the attention of a detective. Sometimes that’s homicide. Usually it’s not.”
Katrina absorbed that information and smiled. “It must be very exciting,” she said.
“You’d be surprised.”
With that Katrina walked out of the den and I heard her start up the stairs. I guessed I wouldn’t have to invite her to share the pizza I had not yet ordered.
“That didn’t really help very much, did it, lieutenant?” I said. “Sorry if I wasted your time”
McElone, putting away the small voice recorder she’d used to store the interview with Katrina, waved a hand. “It wasn’t a waste. We know when the car was taken and we know how. We just don’t know who did it or why.” She gave me a goodbye nod. “I’ll probably be in touch, whether I want to be or not.” We have a very warm relationship.
Melissa was the first to break the silence after McElone could be heard closing my front door. “Do you think Katrina was telling the truth?” she asked.
That was certainly not what I had been thinking. “You think she’s lying?” I asked.
“I thought she sounded like she was being honest,” Josh told Liss. “But that might have been because I didn’t see any reason for her to lie.”
“Neither do I,” Melissa said. “I’m not even sure that’s what I think. But it’s weird that Katrina was the only one who heard something that loud at two o’clock in the morning. I think I would have heard it.”
Maxie stuck her head through the wall over the kitchen door. “Yeah, she was lying,” she said. “You can always tell.”
“I have made a study of the signals people give off when they are trying to deceive each other,” Paul told her. “I did not notice any of the usual signs in Ms. Breslin.”
“I am not given to judgments,” Everett said, moving out of his corner finally now that the interrogation was over and the detective had left. “But I think her story was kind of hard to believe. I think Maxie and I would have heard that kind of work being done at that hour.”
Maxie’s head disappeared into the kitchen. She was busy and didn’t want to engage in an argument, which is the opposite of what she usually does. She was taking this redecoration seriously and that worried me.
“Still, the Continental was gone when he looked outside this morning,” Paul noted. “It had to be taken at some point between last evening and just after dawn.”
“Either way, the lieutenant will figure it out,” I said. “I’m going to order the pizza now. Anybody want to volunteer to go pick it up?”
“That depends,” Melissa said. “You want to give your car keys to a thirteen-year-old?”
“That leaves me,” Josh said. “Sure. I’ll go get it. You order. I need to go find my driving shoes.” Josh was wearing a pair of flip-flops at the moment because our house is heated and he is a man. I don’t get it, either.
I reached for my phone and Josh happened to be standing just in front of me when his cell chirped. He stopped and looked at it, which made it possible for me to peer over his shoulder. At the same moment I saw Paul put his phone back into a pocket in his jeans.
The text message Josh had gotten read: We have work to do.
Chapter 11
“I need Maxie,” Paul said.
That wasn’t something I had expected to hear. We (that is, the living people) had finished our pizza hours ago. Melissa was up in her room pretending she was going to bed when I knew for a fact she was watching YouTube videos on her computer. I figured that was relaxing enough that she’d get to sleep when she needed to.
Maxie and Everett had vanished to whatever it was they did at night. Sometimes I know she gets him, somewhat against his will, to indulge in some mischief she likes to perpetrate on the living, like it’s our fault someone poisoned her when she was just twenty-eight. Her favorite is to go to Dunkin Donuts and rearrange the trays. But tonight she was concentrating on her newfound job and I doubted they would even swap the Sweet & Lows for the Splendas.
Josh and I were sprawled out together on one of the sofas, not watching the television a “generous” reality show crew had once installed on one of the exposed ceiling beams. There are hundreds of channels available through our television package. We didn’t feel like watching any of them. Josh was holding me lightly and I was luxuriating in his arms because it’s a very good place to be. He did have his phone out in case Paul wanted to communicate with him directly, but he’s grown accustomed to hearing one-side conversations and figuring out the other end of them. He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed. Paint store owners work long days. Like innkeepers.
“You need Maxie?” I answered. “For what?” It was a good question. If I’m being honest there have been a handful of moments when Maxie has been very useful over the past four years, and then there’s all the other times.
“There is online research to be done for our case,” he said. Paul is uncomfortable with outward signs of affection so he was making an effort not to look at Josh and me. We weren’t exactly pushing the limits of PG-13 but Paul is a ghost with some intimacy issues. He hovered essentially directly above my head and was appearing to do a very close study of the hanging chandelier. “I think the thing to concentrate on right now is the identity of the person whose remains were in the Lincoln Continental. We don’t even know if it was a man or a woman.”
“Go bother McElone,” I said. “I’m in the hospitality industry.”
“What did he say?” my husband said with a slight rasp in his voice. Josh would undoubtedly be heading up to bed shortly and I had plans to go with him because I, too, had to be up at the first sign of daylight.
I told him about Paul’s determination to include me in his investigation and how he wanted Maxie to hit the laptop in search of the skeleton in my backyard’s closet. Josh opened his eyes and said, “Where is Paul?” I pointed directly over our heads.
Josh looked up and said, “I can do that.” It was a little disturbing how much he wanted to be Paul’s Dr. Watson.
Paul pulled out his phone and texted to Josh: Maxie has advanced internet skills.
“I can start and she can follow up,” my husband argued. “We don’t even know where Maxie is right now.”
“You need to get to sleep,” I reminded him. This was like talking to Melissa when she was eight. “You have work in the morning.”
“I’ll quit soon.” Please, Mom, just a few minutes!
Paul said, “Tell him I appreciate it, but that he should only make the most basic of searches and let Maxie handle the rest. His value lies in his rapport with the construction workers and the contractors.” That wasn’t where I would have placed Josh’s value, but everybody has different priorities.
I decided to make his message a little less insulting. “Paul says he’s very grateful but he wants you to just start and let Maxie handle the rest tomorrow. He says you’re the only one who can interview the construction guys and get anything valuable out of them, so you should concentrate on that.”
Since Josh and I were no longer doing anything resembling snuggling Paul could lower himself to approximate eye level. “That’s not precisely what I said,” he told me. Josh wasn’t looking so I could stick my tongue out at him. And I did.
“I’m on it.” Josh stood up, which took some doing because I was still more or less in front of him, and headed toward the coffee table, the last known location of my dilapidated laptop computer, which had no doubt been carved out of actual stone and was running on the power of microscopic hamsters running on tiny treadmills. It’s old, is what I’m saying.
He opened it up and pressed the power button, which meant it would probably be up and running before daybreak. I looked at Paul, and out of Josh’s earshot said, “Why can’t you let McElone do her job in peace?”
The Canadian ghost has the nerve to look surprised. “How am I impeding the lieutenant?” he asked. “I’m doing nothing that will slow down her investigation, and if we turn up anything useful I would hope you’d pass it on to her immediately.”
“You just want me to cave in and say I’ll help, don’t you?” I gave him a knowing glance. Okay, I gave him a guessing glance. You can’t be sure of anything these days.
“I hones
tly don’t know where you are getting that idea,” Paul sniffed. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to be involved in this investigation and I am complying with your wishes. Melissa and Josh want to help and I am seeing to it that they can do so without involving you.”
“Yeah, sure you … wait. Melissa?” I thought I’d told her to concentrate on schoolwork and leave the sleuthing to Nancy Drew. And Paul.
“She has helped before,” Paul said. “I will not assign her any task that is the least bit dangerous. In fact, this entire case should be completely safe, since there is no evidence of violence yet and even if it transpires that the person in the car was murdered, it happened forty years ago.”
From across the room I heard my husband say, “Okay, it’s running. Now what am I looking for?”
Paul pointedly bypassed me in his communication and texted to Josh. My husband read the message, nodded and looked back to the spot where Paul had been earlier. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I find.”
Paul texted him again and Josh looked up once more. “You’re welcome,” he said.
I stood up. “You boys have your fun,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” I tried not to look toward my plastic-sheeted kitchen door as I headed for the stairs. I took my time going up because I wanted to clear my head and get into a sleepy state of mind. I took a quick detour to the movie room, which no one had used that day, looked around, confirmed that it still looked the same, and walked back out again.
Up the stairs. I’d try to stay awake reading for another half hour and if Josh didn’t come up, I’d text him and remind him that five in the morning gets here a heck of a lot faster than one might expect. So I kept my phone with me while I cleaned up, took off my makeup, got my hair into a sleeping position (that is, one that wouldn’t interfere with turning my head one way or another on a pillow—in other words, down) and changed into my sleeping attire, which tonight favored the flannel, as winter wasn’t here yet but had sent a postcard announcing its imminent arrival.
Bones Behind the Wheel Page 8