Nadine stood and retrieved her notebook and coffee from the sideboard. Kelly glanced at the book. “You’re a police officer?”
“I was. In Seattle.”
“You’re here about what happened with the Gordons?”
Nadine wasn’t sure if there was a point in denying it. “Did you know them?”
“A little,” Kelly said. “Susan’s mom made those doughnuts. It’s all just so sad. Was it a generator accident?”
“Could be,” Nadine said.
“The power’s been out here a couple times this winter. Thankfully they had us up and running pretty quick. Are you staying over another night?”
“It’s too early to say,” Nadine said. “What time is checkout?”
“Eleven.”
“You might see me back.”
“Looking forward to it,” Kelly said. And bending to her dog, she said, “Nero’s looking forward to it, too, aren’tcha boy? He sure is. Yes…”
The chief was in her office when Nadine arrived at the station at nine thirty. Helping herself to another coffee from the break room, Nadine sat down across from Jennifer Eng, ignoring the slicing pain up her spine.
“Where would you like to start today?” Jen said. She was wearing a dark dress shirt instead of her uniform. “I have a meeting this afternoon, so someone else will be with you.”
“I’m also okay poking around on my own,” Nadine said.
After coffee, they headed to the garage to see if Gary Gordon had showed up for work. Jen drove.
“What kind of car did Andrew Gordon own?” Nadine asked.
“An old Accord. That’s it there.” Jen pointed through the grungy window of the garage at a once-silver sedan. A rust-ringed crater had been left in the hood, and the paint had been chipped from the front bumper.
“So he walked home on foot from his mother-in-law’s.”
“It’s only about twenty minutes,” Jen said. “Maybe the cold helped him cool down.”
After knocking and waiting five minutes, they tried the door. The shop was locked up and empty. They drove to Gary’s trailer, but again he wasn’t home. Jen put out an APB for the Castle Rock Truck-N-Tow cab.
“Gary’s a friend of Bill Coker’s,” she said. “I cited Gary once for public intoxication. Bill kept him out of the tank. My hope is that Gary is just parked somewhere, sleeping it off. He’ll turn up eventually. Where to next?”
It was making for a frustrating morning. “Does Andrew Gordon have an office?” Nadine asked.
“In the garage, I think.” Jen picked up the car’s receiver. “Peter? Can you bring Andrew Gordon’s keys and meet us at the garage?”
“Sure thing, fearless leader. You ask and I come running.”
By the time they returned to the garage, the door was retracted fully, and Peter Quayle stood waiting inside. He looked freshly shaved. Nadine hoped that wasn’t for her benefit. Quayle waved at them as Jen pulled the car around.
“Is that unusual?” Nadine asked, before they left the vehicle. “Us saying we want access, and him going in first?”
Jen sighed. “Peter is Peter. Everything with him always ends up in a great big pissing contest.”
The floor of the garage was covered in scattered tools, soda cups and candy wrappers. Along the back wall was a trestle table burdened with clipboards, sets of keys, and reams of disorganized papers spilling out from a tower of trays. A vertical file organizer hung askew on a nail. The garbage was overflowing.
A set of stairs led up to a room that ran the length of the back wall, a plywood and sheetrock addition to the original space. A window in the upstairs office looked down on the entrance and the garage floor. Nadine tried the door, found it locked, requested the key from Quayle. She had to lean back for the officer to fit on the staircase alongside her.
Quayle opened the door and stepped through, Nadine following behind him. Jen was sorting through the papers on the table downstairs.
Andrew Gordon’s office was a few pieces of prefab furniture and an ancient file cabinet that, Nadine found, was empty save for the first three hanging files in the topmost drawer. These covered tax papers for Castle Rock Truck-n-Tow for the past two years, plus papers of incorporation and change of ownership. Andrew, it seemed, had bought into the business five years ago, taken sole possession at the time he started managing the firm’s paperwork. Quayle told her that the previous owner had moved to Vancouver.
“Funny,” he said, looking at the papers. “I’d’ve thought, all the work Gary does, that he and Andrew would own it half and half.”
“Gary’s still on salary,” Nadine said, examining a pay slip. The younger Gordon’s wages hadn’t gone up much over the past three years.
“Must be tough taking orders from your brother. I’d hate that. Not that my brother was all that bad, but still. You have a brother, Ms. Kelso?”
“I do,” Nadine said.
Quayle was smiling at her and she wondered if he’d done research on her. If he knew about Frank. But she couldn’t waste time on that now, and focused her attention on the search.
Below, Jen had opened the doors of Andrew’s Accord and was going through the glove compartment. Nadine put the papers back, scanned the desk. Nothing else of interest. Quayle lifted a desiccated apple core and two crumpled papers out of the trash basket.
“Guess we know which brother was the Oscar Madison,” he said.
Nadine walked out to join the search of the car. She related what she’d found to the chief.
“The business turns a tidy profit, and Andrew takes home most of that,” she said. “Still, it’s not all that much money.”
Andrew was 34, Susan 39. The new-model Jeep had been referred to as Susan’s car. Andrew’s vehicle was fifteen years older and, from the looks of it, near the end of its life. Maybe the difference in cars between husband and wife was an oversimplification, or maybe Andrew didn’t need one all that much. Still, it painted a strange, lopsided division of the couple’s finances.
Jen didn’t find anything pertinent in the car. Quayle came down the stairs a few minutes later, looking gloomy.
“Nothing up there,” he said. “Guess it’s too much to ask for one damn clue. Anyway, I should head back to the station.”
“And us?” Jen said, slamming shut the door. She was as disappointed as Nadine. “Where should we head to?”
“The bank,” Nadine said. Gary Gordon was still missing, and Andrew’s business had yielded little of interest. Nadine hoped Susan’s place of work could provide something more useful. A motive for murder, perhaps. That would be nice.
Chapter 14
There were two credit unions in Castle Rock, situated across from each other on a block of Main Street that held little else. Susan Gordon’s was the newer of the two. Neither looked particularly busy.
An ATM stood to the right of the door. Small cubicles lined each side, and a glass-enclosed tellers’ cage ran along the back wall, ending in a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Past that door was an office and break room, the safe beyond that.
Nadine and Jennifer Eng talked with the branch manager, Helen Jones, who said that Susan was a model employee, a valuable addition to the team, and someone with good interpersonal skills. Jones didn’t know Susan outside of work. Other than a photo of Andrew and her son that she’d stuck on her desk, Susan didn’t bring much of her personal life into her place of business.
Darlene Yap and Maurizia Narducci painted a different picture. They had been tellers alongside Susan. The three had competed against each other for the promotion to assistant manager, a promotion which Susan had won. Neither seemed bitter. Darlene was in her early twenties, slender and quiet, while Maurizia was fortyish, and belly-laughed thinking of Susan’s wit.
“Susan was always helpful,” Darlene said. “She knew her job better than anyone. And she was generous with her time.”
“One week my car wouldn’t start,” Maurizia said, “and every day Susan swung by to pick me up. I live in Longview, wh
ich is close but isn’t exactly on her way. I have kids, too, and I know what a half hour in the morning on a week day is worth. I tried to pay her back, but she wouldn’t accept anything for it.”
Nadine asked if they’d heard Susan mention any arguments with her husband.
“Oh sure,” Maurizia said. “Little things. Who would make dinner or whatever.”
“What about money?”
“I know he didn’t like her buying that car. You should have seen the wreck she drove before that.”
“Were they doing okay financially?” Nadine asked.
Maurizia shrugged. “Who couldn’t use a little more?” The older teller’s makeup had run and her voice was starting to catch. “We all enjoy a good gripe, once in a while, but Susan was doing okay.”
“Actually,” Darlene said, lilting a little so the word sounded like a question. “I heard them arguing about money one time after work. Her and Andrew. When she got the promotion she bought the car, and I think he wanted her to use the money in some other way.”
“You don’t know what for?” Nadine asked.
“Sorry, no. Maybe an investment.”
“I gather that Jeep meant a lot to her,” Nadine said.
“Susan was really proud of it,” Darlene said. “She told me she’d never owned a brand new car before. The morning she got it she took me outside on our break, and showed off all the features. Backup camera, automatic starter for when it’s cold. It would even help you park.”
“Was she normally so extravagant?”
“No,” Darlene said. “But she really loved that car.”
After the bank, Nadine and Susan drove to the Gordons’ house again. They started on the street corner and worked their way down, knocking, asking questions. Nadine wished they had a half-dozen uniforms to canvass the neighborhood for them. She also wished it had been done the afternoon of January 2nd.
“Does Peter Quayle seem odd to you?” Jen asked, as they crossed the lawn after striking out at the first house. The second also yielded no response to their knocks.
“I had dinner in the bar with him last night,” Nadine said. “I don’t think he’s reached the level of insubordination. But he definitely harbors feelings of resentment.”
“Believe me, I know. But that’s not what I meant.”
Plodding between dwarf trees separating the yards of the Gordons’ neighbors, Jen added, “He seemed to leave the garage in a bad mood. He didn’t find anything upstairs, did he?”
“Not that I saw. When I left to join you, he was picking through the trash.”
Jen nodded. “It’s probably nothing.”
The best they got for their efforts was a neighbor who saw Susan’s Jeep in the driveway the morning of the 2nd. Another had heard the generator making “a racket,” and had confronted Andrew Gordon about leaving it on at night, but the incident turned out to have happened in November.
“I asked him could he shut the thing off at ten, since no one needs to hear it during the night, ‘specially when we can’t use our TVs and such. He said he had a child who needed the heat on.” The neighbor shrugged. “Personally, I think it was him that wanted it warm. Andrew wasn’t a bad guy, but he could have been more considerate about that.”
Everyone knew the Gordons, but only superficially; the family hadn’t made much of an impression on their neighbors. Nice enough people. Cute kid. A terrible, awful shame about what happened.
Nadine and the chief walked across the lane behind the Gordons’ house and through the back gate. The fence enclosed one tree, its branches bare, breaching the chain link in places. Nailed into the trunk above eye level was a rusted blue wheel and a short length of gray rope.
“Clothesline,” Jen said.
She paused in her steps and then turned sharply, breaking into a run towards the house. Startled, not understanding, Nadine followed her.
“The damn laundry,” Jen said, already inside. The chief’s boots left wet prints on the kitchen tile. Nadine caught on to her epiphany.
The power had been out. The Gordons had taken their laundry to Ingrid’s house. Yet there’d been a hamper full of dirty towels in the laundry room.
Jen tipped the hamper on its side, spilling two large, faded beach towels onto the top of the dryer. She held one to her face and sniffed, drew her nose away with distaste.
Nadine bent and caught the smell of wet fur, saw the black markings on the towel. Paw prints.
Chapter 15
“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” Kelly said.
The hotel clerk sat at the registration desk, drinking coffee and eating a cake donut off of a paper plate. Nero was out of sight, though Nadine could hear the steady sound of the dog scratching from the back room.
“We need a word,” Jen said.
“No problem, Chief, anything to help.”
“Call me Jen, would you?”
It was midday, the time when the Lodge guests had checked out, the cleaner was at work on the upper floors, and there wasn’t much for the front desk clerk to do. Kelly beckoned them to the couch in the parlor, seating herself on the piano bench.
“You’ll have to get her to play something for you,” Kelly told the chief.
Jen looked at Nadine, who shrugged.
“I’ll come right out with it,” Jen said. “Were you inside the Gordons’ home between New Year’s Eve and January 2nd?”
Kelly, seated across from them, hunched forward and clasped her hands together. “Only for a minute,” she said. “I had Nero out for a walk and ran into Andrew. He asked if I wanted a coffee and invited me in.”
“This was January 1st?”
“Yep.”
“What time?”
“In the afternoon. I usually walk Nero between noon and two, depending on how much work there is. Maybe closer to two.”
“You just had coffee with Andrew?”
Kelly nodded. “I wasn’t there for long.”
“The dog came inside, too?”
“I couldn’t leave him on the porch, could I?”
As if knowing he was under discussion, Nero trotted into the room, and nuzzled his head against Nadine’s knee.
“He likes you,” Kelly said.
“Was the generator on when you visited with Andrew?”
Kelly nodded. “And was it ever loud.”
She traced the route she’d taken, through the alley behind the Gordon home. She’d seen Andrew Gordon through his kitchen window. Andrew had come out to say hello and pet the dog, then invited her in. She toweled off Nero as they made small talk, the weather and what-not. Then she left to finish her walk. All told, she was inside maybe fifteen minutes.
“How well did you know Andrew before that?” Nadine asked.
“I wouldn’t say we were friends, but he’s come into the lounge once or twice, and I’ve seen him on my walks. Susan, too.”
“You didn’t mention that to me this morning.”
Kelly nodded. “It’s a little hard to talk about it, Ms. Kelso. I was in there, and he was alive, and now—it’s sad.”
“Of course,” Nadine said. “How did he seem? Friendly? Agitated?”
“Friendly. Andrew was real nice.”
“Do you think he was interested in you?”
Kelly’s face went slightly pink, and she suppressed a grin. “I don’t know. We just had coffee.”
“What did you talk about when you went inside?”
“Not much. I asked about the generator, why he was running it. Where I grew up, in Oregon, those were for emergencies only. He had it on to make coffee.”
“What was his response to that?” Jen said.
“Andrew told me the house didn’t have much insulation. They’d been meaning to double glaze the windows, but they’d spent money on other things. He said, ‘I’m not going to freeze waiting for some lineman to get his stuff together.’ Not ‘stuff,’ but—you know the word.”
“Did you notice anything unusual in the house?” Jen said. “Anything th
at seemed out of the ordinary?”
“Honestly, I only saw the kitchen and the dining table. It seemed cozy. Kinda small for the three of them.”
“How was the coffee?” Nadine asked.
Kelly took the question seriously. “Ingrid makes better, but considering there was no milk, it was good enough, I guess.”
Outside the motel, Chief Eng lit a cigarette. As she exhaled, she studied Nadine’s face. “Do you think Kelly was telling us the truth?”
She considered how best to answer. Next to them, the lights in the Traveler’s Lounge blinked on from inside. A waiter in a wine-red shirt smiled at them through the door as he flipped around the sign, Sorry We’re CLOSED to Come In We’re OPEN.
“Put it this way,” Nadine said. “You’re a young, garrulous woman in a service industry job. You happen to converse with a man on the morning of the day he dies. Say that nothing untoward happens between you. When you learn he and his wife are dead, what are you likely to tell folks?”
“’I just had coffee with him that day,’” Jen said.
“Exactly. Gossip kicks in. The need to personalize it. To cast yourself in a starring role, no matter how removed you are from the event. We all do it. Especially about near-brushes with death. Yet Kelly Wells held back.”
“Not exactly scientific,” Jen said.
“People are people. With few exceptions, we’re all built off the same template.”
“I find it hard to believe that’s true, considering we’ve spent the last day and change looking for someone who murdered two people, and almost murdered a third.”
“We don’t know what that person’s intent was,” Nadine said.
“Honestly?” Jen said. “Something like this, I don’t care about intent. You say people are people? Well, evil people are evil.”
“Maybe, but it’s never motiveless.”
“I suppose,” Jen said. She tossed her cigarette. “I only smoke these damn things when I’ve got a council meeting coming up. Where can I drop you?”
The Long Dark January: A Nadine Kelso Mystery Page 7