So far, that jibed with Kendall’s attitude, but why hadn’t he admitted that he checked on her? There had to be more. “So what did you tell him?”
The cleaner rolled her shoulders. “Said I saw her out by the pool sometimes. Saw her coming back from a hike once. She always had her drawing stuff with her.”
“And what else did he want to know?” Frank pressed.
“Asked if she ever talked to any of the other guests at the motel. I said no—just to the Patels.”
Something about the tension in Phyllis’s careworn hands made Frank sure she was withholding information. He waited in silence.
Phyllis began to sway as she stood before him. “We-e-e-l-l, he asked if she looked healthy, and I said, sure, she looked good to me. He told me if she ever asked me for a ride, I should say no. And that was no problem, ‘cause I’m not about to go giving strangers lifts all over creation.”
She paused, breathless from unaccustomed chattiness.
“And—?” Frank lifted his right eyebrow.
Now Phyllis looked anxious, maybe even scared. “Is he the one who killed her? Because he seemed like a normal guy, not a pervert or anything.”
“I don’t know who killed her. If every killer looked like an obvious pervert, my job would be a lot easier.” Phyllis didn’t need to know that Kendall had an alibi that had been verified. Frank struggled to find the right tone to draw the information out of this woman. Would she respond better to sternness or gentle reassurance? Given that her husband regularly threw beer bottles at her, Frank decided he probably couldn’t muster enough meanness to scare an answer out of her. So he went with kindness.
“Phyllis, I know you didn’t intend for Caitlin to come to any harm. But when I talked to Regis Kendall, I got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely straight with me, so if you can tell me exactly what went down between you, that’s going to help me find her killer and set her parents’ minds at ease, at least a little.”
That last bit must’ve gotten to her. She, too, had lost a daughter. “He gave me forty dollars,” Phyllis whispered. “And he asked me to slide an envelope under that girl’s door the next day, but not to let her see me do it. So I did. I saw her leave for a hike, and I slid it under the door.” Phyllis took a deep breath. “By the time I was done cleaning, she had come back from her walk. I was wheeling my cart along the sidewalk when she unlocked her door and bent down to pick up the envelope. I saw her read the note, and her hand started shaking. Then she ran into her room and slammed the door behind her.” Phyllis looked at Frank. “Whatever was in the note, it scared her real bad.”
Chapter 27
On the ride back to the office, Frank replayed every moment of his conversation with Phyllis Gartner. No matter how he approached it, he couldn’t come up with a benign reason why Regis Kendall would come to Trout Run and surreptitiously approach the Mountain Vista cleaning woman, paying her for information and asking her to deliver a note. Especially when he’d already denied coming back to Trout Run to check on the daughter of his friends, an action that would have been perfectly logical.
Once he was back at his desk, he called Meyerson to report on the Gartner interview, but the trooper didn’t answer his phone and Frank was forced to leave a long voicemail. He could only hope that Meyerson would finally start to take Kendall seriously as an avenue in the investigation that had to be explored. Frank admitted that Kendall seemed an unlikely suspect for the actual murder, but he was sure—absolutely positive—that the man had something to do with whatever actions had led to Caitlin’s death.
Frank took out a piece of paper and began transcribing the notes he’d made during his interview with Phyllis. Sometimes this process of copying notes over from his little pocket notebook to a separate sheet of paper helped reveal a blind spot in his thought process.
Frank jotted:
saw her out by the pool
saw her coming back from a hike
always had her drawing stuff with her
never talked to the other guests, just to the Patels
The Patels.
Phyllis had said Caitlin spoke to the Patels. Did that mean every member of the family?
Farhan.
Could he have helped Caitlin make contact with the outside world? Frank knew the state police had checked the Mountain Vista’s phone lines and computers for contacts related to Caitlin. But if Farhan had helped her, he could have covered his tracks immediately. He had the skill to do it.
But why would he lie?
Except maybe he hadn’t. Maybe no one had bothered to directly ask the quiet, shy teenager if he had ever helped Caitlin. They had all been distracted by Sarah’s interactions with the young woman. And maybe Caitlin had recognized Farhan as a perfect opportunity: an awkward nerd with a few zits and some dark fuzz on his upper lip. What teenage boy wouldn’t be flattered by attention from a pretty, slightly older girl like Caitlin?
Frank started to push up from his chair, ready to drive right over to the motel to question Farhan. Then he sat back down. If he were wrong, Sanjiv and Mina would be upset that he had suspected their son. And if he were right, Farhan would be terrified of the parental repercussions of his action. He might lie to cover his ass.
Frank had to approach Farhan delicately.
Frank drove over to the basketball court. Two boys were shooting baskets, and neither of them was Farhan. He waved and watched them for a while. When one kid’s shot bounced off the rim and rolled off the court, Frank retrieved the ball, dribbled, and sank a lay-up. Thanking the powers-that-be that he hadn’t humiliated himself, he struck up a conversation with the boys. “Is there ever an organized game here? My wife’s nephew is coming for a visit, and we’re looking for things for him to do.” Frank lied about this mythical relative without batting an eye.
“Yeah,” one kid answered. “We do a pick-up game every Tuesday and Thursday. Guys start showing up around three.”
“Our nephew’s around thirteen. But he’s tall and pretty good at basketball. Would it be okay if he joined you?”
The other kid nodded. “It’s cool. Whoever comes can play. Unless you really suck.”
Frank thanked them and waved as he left. He could wait until tomorrow and see if Farhan showed up. If he didn’t, Frank would think of a different approach.
ON THURSDAY AFTERNOON, Frank changed into civilian clothes and took his truck to the park. Four boys played two-on-two, running up and down the blacktop court. Frank sat on a bench closer to the swings and waited. By three-ten, there were enough boys to make two teams, but still no Farhan. Frank shifted restlessly, but forced himself to watch as the kids divided themselves into two teams. The game had been going for a few minutes when a minivan pulled into the parking lot and three boys spilled out. “I’ll be back at four-thirty,” the mom-driver shouted as she pulled away.
Frank sat back to enjoy the game. One of the newcomers was Farhan.
The kids on the court greeted the new arrivals with waves. Within a few minutes, Farhan rotated into the game. He wasn’t the best player, but he was solid. He managed to sink a shot and made a nice assist. The game continued with some good-natured squabbling about fouls, and after an hour the boys plopped onto the grass, sweaty and exhausted. Still, Frank did not approach. He didn’t want to embarrass Farhan in front of his friends.
Eventually, the boys began to drift away, some walking toward town, some being picked up by parents. None of them was old enough to drive.
Farhan pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen. Maybe it was past the time he was supposed to be home. The woman who’d dropped off Farhan hadn’t shown up yet although it was now past four-thirty. Frank saw his opportunity.
He sauntered over to the group. “Hey guys. Nice game. You’re looking good out there, Farhan.”
“Thanks.” Farhan smiled, but looked away, unable to hold eye contact for long.
“Anybody need a ride?” Frank offered.
“My mom’s coming. She’ll get here eventu
ally. She’s always late.” A kid with red hair rolled his eyes at the unreliableness of mothers, and plopped onto his back to wait.
Farhan looked between his friend and Frank. “Hey, Will—maybe I should take this ride. I have stuff to do at home, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Whatever. See you on Saturday.”
Farhan smiled at Frank as they walked together toward the parking lot. “Thanks. I’m supposed to work at the registration desk starting at five-thirty. My mom gets mad when I’m late.”
Frank laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I can get you there in time even without my blue lights.”
Once in the truck, Frank made small talk about basketball, and Farhan gradually loosened up. Yes, he played at the park every week. Maybe he would try out for the High Peaks High School team in the fall. No, he wouldn’t play in college because his dream was to study computer science at MIT or Cal Tech, and they did not have basketball teams.
Frank smiled at the vision of MIT playing Kentucky in the Final Four. But the turn of the conversation from basketball to computers played right into his hand. He began by asking Farhan’s advice on some problem he’d been having on his laptop.
“Sure, I can fix that for you,” Farhan assured him. “Bring your laptop over to the motel any day and I’ll take care of it.”
Then Frank moved closer to his true intention. “Do you help lots of people with their computer issues?’ Frank asked.
“Sure—if my friends need something. And my mom and dad—they’re clueless.”
“How about guests at the motel?”
Farhan turned his head, taking an interest in the passing scenery. “They don’t know me, so they don’t ask.”
“Never?” Frank inquired. “Maybe some of them overheard your dad praising your skills and asked you for help.” From the corner of his eye Frank could see a muddy flush spread into Farhan’s cheeks.
Farhan sat in silence, gripping the armrest with his right hand. Frank signaled and pulled the truck into the empty parking lot of the abandoned Church of Living Light.
“Why are we stopping here?” Farhan’s voice cracked into a squeaky falsetto.
“Because I need to talk to you about something, man to man.” Frank twisted in the driver’s seat to face his passenger. “I think Caitlin Lupton knew you were good with computers and asked you to help her send a message that couldn’t be traced. Am I right?”
Farhan looked like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.
“Look, son—this is very important. You could help me and the state police catch the person who killed Caitlin. You’d be a hero.”
Farhan shook his head vigorously. “No. They’ll kill me too.”
Chapter 28
Once Frank ascertained that Farhan did, in fact, have information to share about Caitlin, he knew he had to question the boy with both the state police and his parents present. Arranging this caused the next couple of hours to pass with quite a bit of agitation from all sides. Finally, it was agreed that Frank would bring Sanjiv and Farhan to the state police barracks in Ray Brook while the distraught Mina stayed behind to take care of the motel.
They drove in rigid silence with Sanjiv occasionally opening his mouth to ask a question before thinking better of it and sinking back into stillness. Once they arrived, Farhan was clearly awed by the state police headquarters, as Frank suspected he would be. Good. They’d get more from the kid here than they would have at the motel or the Trout Run police station.
Meyerson, tall and grim-faced, made both Farhan and Sanjiv shrink toward Frank. The Lieutenant led them down a maze of corridors to a bare and unwelcoming interview room. They arranged themselves around the table and a uniformed officer offered everyone cans of soda. Meyerson led off.
“How was Caitlin aware of your computer skills?” Meyerson asked.
“Sarah told her.” Farhan turned to Frank. “You know how she just talks and talks and talks.”
“How did Caitlin approach you?” Frank asked in a gentler tone.
“She came into the office one day when I was working the desk alone. Mom had taken Sarah to Plattsburgh to go to the dentist and do some shopping. Dad was at the Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
“I knew I should not have gone,” Sanjiv cried. Frank distracted him by asking for the exact date. It was the day after Kendall had paid Phyllis to leave the note for Caitlin.
“So Caitlin came into the office and what did she do?” Frank continued.
“She just started talking to me about stuff.” Farhan studied his soda can as if it were Michelangelo’s David.
Stuff. Stuff. What was it about teenagers that the complexity of the entire world could be reduced to that one word? “What specifically, did you two talk about?” Frank probed.
“She asked me about my favorite video games and told me she liked playing Monster Hunter. So we talked about different strategies for winning.” Farhan paused. “Then she asked me if my brother liked playing Monster Hunter with me and I said no because I always beat him, so then she started talking about her sister.”
“Rachel?” Meyerson confirmed.
The boy nodded. “She talked about how Rachel didn’t play video games because she was so busy practicing her violin, and that now she was on tour in Europe playing all these concerts and Caitlin was dying to know how it was going.” Farhan bent the tab of his soda can until it snapped off. “So I asked why she didn’t call or email her sister for news, and Caitlin said she didn’t have a phone or a computer, and I asked why, and she said that was a long story.” Farhan paused for a breath after that exhausting litany.
Frank considered what Farhan had told them so far. It seemed to him that Caitlin had consciously worked to gain the boy’s trust by talking to him about video games and sibling relationships. She’d known better than to simply demand to use the motel office computer. She must’ve been planning her approach.
“After she told you about Rachel, what happened next?” Frank asked.
“Caitlin asked me if I would mind Googling her sister to see if there were any news articles about her concerts,” Farhan said. “So I did, and there was a newspaper story written in another language—Hungarian, I think—and we used Google Translate to read it. It said Rachel Lupton was a brilliant performer with a bright future and she got a standing ovation for her solo.”
Farhan sank back in his chair. Clearly this was more talking to adults than he’d done in months.
“How did Caitlin react?” Meyerson persisted, not feeling any need for rest.
“She cried a little...you know, how girls do when they’re real happy. And she thanked me and asked me could we keep this a secret between us and not tell my parents or Sarah or anyone.” Farhan paused and his voice sank to a whisper. “And I said sure.”
Sanjiv grew agitated. “Why would you keep such a secret? This is not how we raised you—”
Frank laid a hand on his friend’s arm, and Sanjiv piped down. Farhan already looked close to tears, and they hadn’t even gotten to the real favor that must’ve required true stealth.
“It didn’t seem like a big deal.” Farhan hung his head. “I figured she just didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. I could understand that.”
“So the search that you did...?” Frank asked.
“I cleared it from the browser and the cache.”
“But that wasn’t the only time Caitlin asked you to help her,” Frank continued.
Farhan shook his head and his dark hair flopped into his eyes. “One night I was coming home from my friend Will’s house. His mom dropped me off by the side of the road, and I was walking across the parking lot when I heard this voice call out to me. Caitlin was sitting at one of the picnic tables near the barbeque grill. It was so dark I could barely see her.”
“Ah!” Sanjiv slapped his forehead. “This is why I tell you to get home before dark.”
“Dad, I’m not a baby,” Farhan objected, showing his
first hint of defiance.
Sanjiv looked ready to debate this point, and again, Frank calmed him down with a warning glance. Then he turned back to the boy. “What did Caitlin say to you this time?”
“She said it was really important to get a message to someone. And that it had to be sent so it couldn’t be traced back to the Mountain Vista. And she asked if I had my own laptop and did I know how to do that, and I said sure.” Farhan sidetracked into a long technical description of his feat. Frank let him talk as the technical matters seemed to boost his confidence. Meanwhile he stewed over how Regis Kendall fit into this. Certainly, he knew where Caitlin was. So who was this other person she needed to contact secretly? Why had Kendall’s note prompted Caitlin to act?
“So what was the message, and who did she send it to?” Meyerson asked with a pen poised.
“She didn’t want anything written down. She repeated it to me and made me memorize it. The message was, ‘I agree to your terms.’ The email was [email protected].”
“What terms? What was she agreeing to?” Meyerson demanded.
Farhan shrank down into his seat. “I don’t know. When I asked Caitlin what it meant, she told me to send the message and then forget it. She said the less I knew, the safer I’d be. She said I was the only person she could trust.”
Sanjiv’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth fell open. He couldn’t speak.
Frank exchanged a glance with Meyerson. The less I knew, the safer I’d be certainly sounded like Caitlin was attempting to protect Farhan from a drug dealer. But he didn’t want to ask leading questions that would put ideas in the boy’s head.
Frank leapt in before the astonished father could find his voice, and before Meyerson could demand more details. “Did Caitlin seem physically upset? Agitated, sweating, shivering?”
Farhan drew his eyebrows down. “No. She seemed, I dunno, determined.”
“Determined in what way?” Meyerson asked. “Like she needed to acquire something?”
Farhan glanced from one adult to the others uncertain what was expected of him. “Yeah...maybe...I guess.”
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