The Long Dark January: A Nadine Kelso Mystery

by A. S. Andrews

  “Why did he and Susan separate?” Nadine asked.

  “The rumour I heard was that he was much older, and wanted to go back to Texas. His family had wealth. Susan was barely in her twenties, didn’t even have a lawyer. There were hints that—” Veronica hunched closer, to the edge of her seat. “She had health problems. The mental kind. A breakdown of some sort, around the time she moved to Seattle. Maybe it’s just gossip, but that’s what I remember hearing.”

  They asked a few more questions about how Veronica’s daughter got along with Bobby. A typical child friendship that waxed and waned depending on new toys, new kids in class, and whether the parents would organize things. Veronica said she’d never had a second thought about letting Elsa sleep over at the Gordon house.

  “Makes you think,” Bill Coker said, as they walked back towards the station. “Ramona and I have my daughter’s friends over to our place every other night. And she goes to their homes, too. Some of them are no different from the Gordons. Not sure I’ll ever feel good about signing off on a sleepover ever again.”

  “You can’t destroy their social life in the interest of protection,” Nadine said.

  “Maybe not. Guess it’s just hard to accept how random all the crap out there is.”

  Nadine nodded, it was.

  As they reached the parking lot of the station, Nadine held the officer back a second. “Has Peter Quayle ever talked to you about someone named Karl Roach?”

  Bill rolled his eyes and grinned. “You should ask has he ever talked about anything else. He obsesses over that guy.”

  “Does it bother you that Roach lives in your town?”

  The young police officer seemed to give it some thought. “I mean, I don’t like it all that much. But it’s not my town. My people—I’m from the Cowlitz Nation—we’re used to living close to murderers.” He smiled to take the edge off the statement. “Peter’s just easy to upset.”

  The hallways of the station were busier than Nadine had seen, busier than the staff were used to. Still not half the traffic that any station in Seattle got on an average day. But towns worked differently. Nadine admired the way the receptionist dealt with the small crowd who just wanted to know if there was a killer in their midst. “When I know anything, so will you,” he said to the room.

  Nadine walked back outside and dialed Teddy Fowler’s office. She owed the deputy commissioner a report. She was put through almost immediately.

  “Been thinking of calling you for a status report, Nadine. From what I’m hearing, it sounds like Jen’s suspicions turned out to be right. You’ve got a double homicide on your hands.”

  “Looks like it,” Nadine said.

  She filled in the deputy commissioner on her progress, explaining that the case was still a sprawling mess of leads and dead-ends, but a picture was emerging. No, she couldn’t speculate how much longer it might take. Another few days, at least.

  “I’d like you back here by Monday at the latest,” Teddy said. “We can only keep a civilian consultant on the payroll if we can demonstrate your value to the brass. I have a meeting set up for you with the other deputies for Monday afternoon.”

  It was Friday now, and half the day had already been lost. “That might not be possible.”

  “It’ll have to be. Remember, Nadine, it’s not on you to police the whole town. Just help them get their case squared away, however much you can in the time you’ve got. This is a favor, not an official assignment.”

  It was neither, as far as Nadine was concerned. Maybe it had been at the start. But after seeing the autopsy reports, talking Gary Gordon off the bridge, and the business last night with the sign, Nadine was determined to find the killer, as well as some much-needed answers. If not, there was every danger that she might turn into someone like Quayle.

  Speaking of whom. “Teddy, do you remember the Cover Model Killings?”

  “A little before my time, but yes. Nasty business.”

  “You remember anyone taking an interest in the case? An officer named Peter Quayle?”

  “Quayle,” the deputy commissioner said. “That is a name from the past. He must be close to sixty by now.”

  “Any interactions with him?”

  “Not a lot, and not for many years. Why do you ask?”

  “He’s on the Castle Rock police force,” Nadine said.

  “Really? That’s strange.”

  “Why?”

  “I never heard the full story,” Teddy Fowler said. “I only know there was a story. He resigned pretty young.”’

  “Could you ask around for me?”

  “Will do, Nadine. Just remember to get this wrapped up in the next few days.”

  Nadine swore she’d do her best, and swore a more forceful vow to herself and the Gordons, after she’d hung up the phone.

  Chapter 26

  There was no avoiding the station. Nadine waded through the bodies and waited outside Chief Eng’s office until she had finished her most recent call. She was holding up to the publicity barrage. On her third cup of coffee, judging by the fresh rings on her desk.

  “…of course not,” Nadine overheard. “We’re availing ourselves of every resource. We even have a consultant down from Seattle to oversee the case. Yes, it’s our top priority. No, that doesn’t mean the town’s other problems simply get set aside…”

  She finished and rolled her shoulders, tipped her chair back and closed her eyes.

  “You know what the Observer Effect is?” she asked. “The idea that watching something affects it. An investigation is like that. None of these journalists and bloggers seem to have considered that we don’t have the staff to both follow leads and talk to them about what we’re doing.”

  “Nothing useful?” Nadine asked.

  “Not in the least. Mostly freelancers wondering if it’s worth the trip here, how close we are, and the odd worried citizen.”

  “It’s difficult. If there’s anything I can do.”

  “Aside from find the person responsible, there isn’t much.”

  “I was going to talk to Ingrid Moody again,” Nadine said. “Want to come with?”

  “There’s a million things I should be doing here.”

  “That’s the nice thing about being chief,” Nadine said. “You get to set your own priorities.”

  Jen smiled and grabbed her coat.

  The café was flooded with people. Nadine doubted more than half were the morning’s usual trade. Others were probably locals who wanted to gaze at the mother of the murdered woman, perhaps ask her if she’d heard anything that wasn’t included in the official announcement. Ghouls. Nadine hoped a few of them were friends, here to support Ingrid.

  For her part, Ingrid seemed to be holding up fine. She dispensed donuts and ran the espresso machine with efficiency and aplomb. Her eyes rarely met those of her customers, instead focusing on the display case, the milk frother, or the credit machine.

  “Can’t speak now,” she told Nadine and the chief. “Not until the rush is done. Come back in an hour or so.”

  “We don’t have an hour or so,” Jen said. Turning to the line by the counter, she said, “Everyone else? Service is off for the next little while.” She pointed at a pair of customers seated at a table, their drinks and plates empty. “Folks, if you’re done, please clear out. If you’re not done, then get done, and then clear out. Right now. Thank you.”

  Despite a few grumbles, the café cleared out. Ingrid stood, hands on her hips, waiting for their questions.

  “Why don’t we have a seat away from the windows,” Nadine said. A portion of the crowd had moved to the parking lot, and were gawking at them, with little to no pretence.

  “My place of business, my rules,” Ingrid said. “I’m comfortable standing here. And you better order something, since I’m losing money every minute I’m closed.”

  They ordered cappuccinos, Jen’s with almond milk.

  “Tell us about Timothy,” Nadine said.

  “What about him?”<
br />
  “Susan was married before Andrew. She had a child and lost custody of him. Why?”

  “Because it’s a hell of an unfair system,” Ingrid said. She paused to slash open a bag of espresso beans and feed them into the conical mouth of her burr grinder. “Susan was a young girl with nothing to her name. Lee was rich and had been divorced twice before. He wanted a son more than a wife, and he got one, at the expense of Susan’s health.”

  “She had some sort of breakdown,” Nadine said.

  Ingrid scowled. “You would too in her place, losing your child, finding out the man you married cared nothing for you. Susan fell, yes. She needed care to get back on her feet. But that girl pulled herself together and did pretty well for herself. She made me proud.”

  She turned her back to them, focusing on the coffee press. Nadine suspected she was fighting back a sobbing fit. She also noticed that Ingrid had stopped referring to her daughter in the present tense. The reality of the deaths was sinking in.

  “When was the last time anyone heard from Timothy?” Jen said.

  “Ages ago. Lee has remarried and Timothy calls this other woman mother. Who knows if Lee even told his son the truth.”

  “It must have been difficult for you,” Nadine said.

  “It was. It is. Here’s your drink.”

  She took a sip of foam and dark, slightly nutty coffee. “Delicious, thank you. One other thing to discuss. You told us Susan drove Bobby home around seven on the night of the 1st.”

  Ingrid nodded, began repeating the process for Jen’s beverage. She tamped the grounds into the press, evened it off.

  “Susan got a call from Gary Gordon at your house. According to Gary, they went for a walk at seven thirty. She left from your place. He says they returned there when they were finished.”

  “Gary doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ingrid said.

  “You’re sure she drove off at exactly seven o’clock, with her son?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  Nadine and Jen exchanged a look.

  “It’s imperative we get an accurate timeline,” Jen said.

  “Imperative, huh?” Ingrid banged down the cup and saucer. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

  “What kind of mood did Susan leave in?” Nadine asked. “Was she happy? Upset?”

  “Not any more than anyone else.”

  She was being obstreperous now, answering monotonously. Nadine threw back the rest of her drink.

  “Ingrid, there’s something you’re not telling us. It might make the difference in finding who killed your daughter.”

  “What does it matter? She’s not coming back.”

  Her hands were in fists. She pressed them into the counter. A tear rolled off her cheek and into the powdered sugar.

  Nadine ventured a step closer and said softly, “It matters because this is a horrible act that hurt a lot of people, you especially. Knowing what happened helps us in figuring out how to go on. If you want to talk to me about anything, anything at all, I’m staying at the Traveler’s Lodge. I won’t think worse of you for deciding later on to tell me what you know.”

  “Just leave,” Ingrid said. “I have nothing else to say to you.”

  Chapter 27

  Jen had to get back to the office to handle the concerns of her constituency. Left on her own, Nadine wandered up the street, trying to imagine why Ingrid would continue with a lie that was already starting to unravel. She couldn’t think of anything that would trump the desire to see her daughter’s killer found.

  But that was the trouble with people: they weren’t logical. She remembered a particularly nasty fight between her parents that occurred on the earliest edges of her memory. She might have been four. Her mother had made pork loin, and the argument had broken out as dinner was being served. She couldn’t remember the context, but the smell had been pungent. After several escalating volleys, her father had walked out, and Martha Kelso had pitched the dinner into the wall. Nadine remembered Frank crying, her mother’s footsteps as she stomped upstairs. She’d tried to sweep up the mess herself, and remembered the handle of the broom being long and unwieldy. She’d crouched down to pick up the broken dishware with her fingers. To this day the smell of pork loin provoked certain unsettling feelings.

  Whatever Ingrid’s motivations, the timeline revolved around the two phone calls. One to Andrew’s cell, the other from Gary to Ingrid’s house. Both had occurred around seven. If Gary was telling the truth, then Susan would have been back to Ingrid’s after eight, and home sometime later than that.

  On a hunch, Nadine called the station and asked Peter Quayle to check if the call on the 1st to Andrew Gordon’s cell came from Ingrid Moody’s home phone. She suggested that Quayle ask the phone company for a copy of Ingrid’s phone records. A warrant would probably be required, though under these circumstances, easy enough to procure.

  Since Ingrid’s phone was a landline—rare in this day and age—the possibility was great that someone else could have used the phone. Susan, or even Bobby. Why phone Andrew at that point?

  Nadine passed the garage and saw that the lights were on. Gary was inside, half-buried in the engine of an older Lincoln. Classic rock spewed from a radio.

  “Back at it,” Nadine said.

  Gary nodded. “Something to take the mind off things. Seems to work for Ingrid.”

  “How are you coping, Gary?”

  “I’m not drinking,” Gary said. “There’s that. If I seem a little shaky, a little irritable…”

  “I understand.” She rapped on the lid of Andrew’s Accord, positioned next to the Lincoln. “What was wrong with your brother’s car?”

  “What was right with it? Andrew ran that thing into the ground. You can do that when you have free parts and labor.”

  “Why didn’t he buy a new one?”

  “Asked him that a million times. He didn’t want to spend the money. Susan had just bought the Jeep, and Andrew wasn’t happy about that. He felt like he had to be the responsible one, though the cost of parts on his Honda was getting up there. It was a matter of time before it crapped out on him for good.”

  “So he owned the business, underpaid you, and expected free service for his car.”

  Gary nodded. “He was like that with money.”

  “You must have resented it, at least a little.”

  “Sometimes.” Gary looked at his brother’s car. “He had his good points, though. He bailed me out a few times.”

  “It’s a hard thing, having a brother.”

  “Yeah. Was there anything else?”

  Nadine hadn’t wandered in with a specific question, but anything she learned might help. She picked her next question out of the air, merely to keep things rolling, not knowing how important it would turn out to be.

  “What did you think of Susan’s car?”

  The mechanic smiled. “Nice. I’m not a Jeep person, but I appreciate the versatility. A good little machine.”

  “Susan’s coworkers told me she loved it.”

  “Definitely,” Gary said. “When you’ve never had a nice car, the features seem like magic. A camera that helps you back up! An engine you can warm up by remote control! It’s—“

  “What do you mean about the engine?” Nadine said.

  Gary explained that he’d helped Susan install an automatic starter, which would turn over the engine with a remote control.

  “On days when it’s too cold to go outside, you warm the car up so it’s toasty when you walk out the door.”

  “What about the emissions?” Nadine asked.

  “You can start it from your phone, and it’ll actually monitor the engine’s revs, though the one I put in for Susan also had a clicker.”

  “A clicker,” Nadine said.

  And it all fell neatly into place.

  Chapter 28

  Jen was hard-pressed to get away from the station for a second time, but Nadine insisted. Nadine, Gary, and a drowsy-looking Bill Coker waited for the
chief by the driveway of the Gordons’ house. Bill had borrowed an oxygen mask from the fire department, and held a CO detector. As Jen approached, Nadine nodded at Bill and the young officer walked inside the house. A moment later the garage door retracted.

  “I should’ve seen it sooner,” Nadine said. “My fault for always buying used cars.”

  She sat behind the wheel of Susan Gordon’s Jeep, started the engine, and slowly drove the vehicle into the garage. Then she walked out, using the clicker to lower the door.

  “Show her, Gary,” Nadine said.

  “It’s a pretty standard feature,” Gary said. He took a black fob from his pocket and punched the gray button in its center. They could hear, through the closed door of the garage, the engine of the Jeep roar to life.

  “Whoever’s inside the Gordon house takes two things on their way out,” said Nadine. “The garage door clicker and the automatic starter for Susan’s car. That person knows what each clicker does because they’re familiar with the house and the vehicle.”

  “I’m following,” Jen said.

  “Late at night they come back to the house. The generator is going so there’s a cover of noise to what they do. Either the Jeep is already in the garage, or they place it there, using the clicker. They open the adjoining door leading to the hallway so that the emissions fill the house. Then they walk out here to the driveway and close the garage door. The last thing they do is to start the Jeep’s engine remotely.”

  “How long would it take to flood the house?” Jen said.

  Nadine didn’t answer for a moment. The radio on Jen’s belt squawked. Nadine immediately hit the garage door clicker.

  “I told Bill to click the radio when CO levels reached 1000 ppm in the garage. That took less than five minutes. The entire house? Maybe an hour. Maybe much less.”

  Through a haze, Bill walked out, pulling off the oxygen mask once he was near the others. He grinned at Nadine.

  “Nifty way of doing it,” he said. Then caught himself and turned to put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m an idiot for saying that. Sorry, man.”