Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October (20 page)

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CHAPTER

FIFTY-SEVEN

Rita roared into the parking lot in a Mustang convertible. She jumped out and ran over to Ken.

“Are you okay, honey? You’re still so pale.” she said, motioning for us to get in the car.

“Mary, go ahead and get in while I talk to Rita for a minute,” Ken said. He led Rita a few feet away and took her hand.

I couldn’t hear what he said, but I could see and hear her startled reaction.

“Roland is dead? Are you kidding? They can’t believe that you—”

Then I heard a long string of “shits and damns.”

Fred led Rita over to the car and helped her into the passenger seat. He got in the driver’s seat and pulled away from the old brick building.

“Mary, I can’t believe this.” Rita turned to me. “Where is Dash?”

“Oh, Dash went over to the hospital to try to get Ken’s records from last night to show the sheriff that he was otherwise engaged. He was having a little trouble getting the records,” I said.

“Typical, isn’t it? It took me three weeks to get my last mammogram results. That’s exactly why I made them give me copies of everything when we left last night. I said we needed to get them to our doctor in New Haven.” Rita turned back to Ken “Now where did I put them?”

“They’re probably still in your purse. That’s where you put them last night,” Ken said. He pulled into the parking lot at the diner next to my car. It seemed like a year since I parked the car before dawn this morning.

Rita was fumbling through her humongous bag. “Here they are, a little crumpled but intact.”

She handed them over to me. I thumbed through checking the dates and times. The last entry was two-thirty a.m. on the discharge notice which stated that patient was advised to follow up with his own physician as soon as possible. There were countless entries with results of blood tests, a C-Scan, a chest x-ray, and some indecipherable doctor comments.

I took the records, jumped out of the car and waved Ken and Rita off. Then I zoomed off to Lucy’s house to rescue poor Sam who had been alone for over six hours.

Dash’s car was already in the driveway when I drove up. I could hear Sam barking as I rushed to the door. I opened the kitchen door and found a tidal wave of what appeared to be yarn and paper.

When Sam gets bored he always finds some new enterprise to break the boredom. This time he had trashed a kitchen rug into thousands of shreds. Mixed in with the remains of the rug were tiny pieces of paper towel along with the cardboard roller that had once housed the roll. The remains of the contents of the garbage can now lying on its side in the middle of the debris added bits of color to the heap.

Dash was standing in the doorway. He let out a low whistle. “Wow, what an amazing mess.”

“At least he didn’t eat the bottoms of the cupboards, thank God.” I hustled Sam out the back door. He promptly relieved himself and scratched on the door to get back in where he stood proudly surveying his handiwork.

“Aren’t you going to punish him? Spank him or something?” Dash said.

“It’s too late for that. He won’t connect it with the mess. You sort of have to catch him in the act. Besides, it’s my fault for leaving him for so many hours,” I said.

Dash just shook his head and wandered back to the great room. Immediately, I thought of how Carlos would have joined me in laughing at Sam’s kitchen makeover. Dash’s reaction was totally different.

Dash always reminded me of someone else I knew, but I never could put a face to this picture. Now it was coming to me. Dash reminded me of my brother, William. William was the middle child so he was closest to my age. I was the baby in the family with both brothers looking out for me. William in particular would often scold me for disobedient behavior. Dash had the same paternal, no nonsense attitude. His first thought was to punish my silly dog. Carlos loved a good joke, and Sam was famous for pulling laughable antics.

Dash was a good friend, but I knew for sure now he couldn’t be the right guy for me. I still thought he’d be the model boyfriend my dad would love.

After a hasty attempt at cleanup of the kitchen with a broom and dust pan, I joined Dash and handed him the records that Rita had given me.

“Shouldn’t we take these over to Jim right away?” Dash asked.

“Yes, we should, and we should also find out what else that inept sheriff is doing to find who did Roland in. Call Ken and tell him to sit tight at home while we try to assist Sheriff Parsons in a real investigation.”

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CHAPTER

FIFTY-EIGHT

“What did you find in Roland’s house? Do you even know if he was killed out in his yard or just deposited there?”

We were back in Jim Parsons’ office. While he looked at the hospital records, I had begun peppering him with the questions that rolled around in my head.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t been in the house yet,” Parsons snarled.

“Well, why not, Jim? Why weren’t you in there the minute you got there? The killer could have been in the house for all you know. Valuable evidence could have been taken.” Dash looked at Jim with a puzzled frown.

“Well, for one thing, I was busy arresting Francie and Otis Wallace out at the farm where I also had my two deputies working. Then we had to question them briefly at least and I had to call the prosecutor to get on over to our lockup.”

“Instead of wasting time picking up Ken and questioning him, you could have gone right into the house,” I said. “There could have been more bodies in the house, or the killer could have been holding hostages. Exigent circumstances like that would have allowed an immediate entry.”

“I’m working on a search warrant now. I still have to get this over to a judge to sign, so it’ll probably be tonight before I can get in there. Why is it that you two lawyers think you can run my investigation? Listen, Dash, if you’re so smart, why don’t you run for sheriff?’

“Good idea,” Dash said. “If you or one of your officers had gone right in there, the exigent circumstances would have allowed you immediate entry without worrying about a warrant. Who knows who might have been hiding in there?”

“Well, I’ve got a man stationed in a car out front and the place is secured with evidence tape so whatever’s there will still be there.” Jim said.

Dash and I looked at each other. “We’ll get out of your way,” I said. “Can we get copies of those records for our file?”

“Yup. Here, just take them up to Mrs. Bradley at the front desk.”

I clutched our copies of the hospital records as we got into Dash’s car. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” I asked.

“And what would that be?” Dash smiled.

“That we can easily get into Roland’s house through the back entrance. That is if you don’t mind fighting your way through the overgrowth. The sheriff hasn’t stationed anyone back there. By the time Jim gets there, we’ll be out. And I can use my phone camera to record whatever we find, so Jim can’t hide evidence from us.”

“Mary, we could get ourselves in some big trouble.”

“Or we could get Ken out of trouble. Come on. Let’s go.”

We parked down the street from Ken’s house. I remembered how Ken and I had accessed Roland’s house the day we went to court.

“Just follow me between those two houses and we can cut through the easement and get right into the backyard,” I said.

I motioned Dash to follow me. Soon we were facing the mess that comprised Roland’s yard.

“Are those targets for gun practice?” Dash whispered.

“They sure are. Come on. Let’s see if the back door is unlocked.”

We made our way through the old tin cans, the weeds and God knows what else that was concealed in the brush. In another minute we were on the rickety back steps leading to the back door. Dash pulled back the screen and tried the door. It was locked and no amount of jiggling forced it open.

“So now what?” Dash asked. “Do your talents include blasting through bolt locks?”

“No, and if we make much more noise the lone deputy watching the front of the house will be back here.”

“He’s probably sleeping in his squad car,” Dash answered.

I began walking around the back of the house. There were three windows facing the back yard. The first was a small window that looked like it was over a kitchen sink. The second and third windows were larger. I peered through the nearest one and saw overturned furniture and papers strewn on the floor. The third one had a screen that was partially unhooked and hanging slightly from the window.

“I can see the bathroom over here.” I motioned to Dash.

I pulled on the screen and it promptly fell onto my foot. The window was the old pull up style. It yielded with no effort.

“I think I can get through this one. I might need a little boost,” I said. “Then I’ll let you in the back door.”

“Are you nuts? I can’t let you do that.”

“Well, you’re much too tall to crawl in there. We need to see what’s in this house. We may not get another chance. If Jimmy Parsons decides that Ken Upham is the guy who did Roland in, you know he won’t change his mind and he’ll make any other evidence disappear or overlook it. Look how he screwed up on Carolyn Brousseau’s murder.”

“Okay, but this is against my better judgment.” Dash moved under the window and gave me a boost. I grabbed the window sill and pulled myself up and jumped down, landing in an old claw footed bath tub.

“I’m coming to unlock the door,” I said as I picked myself up and hurried through the house.

Even though it was still light outside, the house was almost dark. The windows were obscured with a decade of dust and grime. The weeds and overgrown shrubs obscured any ray of light coming in the front windows. I found the kitchen and opened the bolt lock and a second lock on the doorknob. Dash almost fell through the door.

“Look at you. You’re covered in dust or mud or both.” he said. He brushed some dust from my hair.

We started through the kitchen into the living room, dining room combination. There was an old sofa and table and chairs. Book shelves were loaded with aging books.

A small room in the back of the house was the one I had seen from outside the back of the house. Someone had thrown the contents of an old roll top desk to the floor. A chair was turned on its side and a there was a broken lamp and an overturned end table.

“Don’t touch anything. There may be fingerprints on these things.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began taking pictures of the mess.

“See if you can find a flashlight in the kitchen.” I said. I glanced down at some of the papers and saw they were letters that were written in a foreign language,

Dash returned carrying a large flashlight. “This was next to the back door on the counter. I thought you said not to touch anything, but we need the flashlight.”

“I’ll wipe it off when we return it,” I said as I continued snapping pictures.

We took the light back into the living room. I began to shine it on the floor. We both immediately saw dried stains on the carpet that looked like they could be blood. They led to the front door. I turned the light back around the room and saw a flash of silver. I moved closer and saw that it was a casing. Dash started to pick it up.

“Don’t, Dash. We know what it is and where it is, but we can’t remove it. It shows that Roland was probably shot in here and was thrown outside into the bushes, or he tried to get out before he died. Either way, it’s important to leave it where it is”. I took several pictures of the casing and tried to get shots of the blood stains.

I picked up one of the books on the edge of the shelf and saw that it also was in a foreign language.

“That’s German,” Dash said examining the book. “We need to get out of here before someone finds out we’ve committed a burglary.”

“Okay, but let’s just see what else is in here.”

I walked into a small hallway. There was a door that I guessed went to a closet. It opened but instead of clothes or linens there was a stairway.

“Shine the light here. Where do these steps go?”

Dash approached with the light and we saw that they led to a basement. I hurried down the steps. Dash followed behind me. The light exposed a large room, its walls covered in posters and photos. There were flags in a stand and other paraphernalia of some kind. My mouth dropped open when I realized what we were looking at.

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CHAPTER

FIFTY-NINE

“Roland Behr wasn’t a tree Nazi. He was a real Nazi,” I said, as I walked around the basement area.

“I can’t believe this. So this is what Roland’s secret club was,” Dash said.

Swastikas emblazoned each wall and several bulletin boards. There were German flags, pictures of men dressed in boots and uniforms. A gun cupboard held a variety of weapons. There were typed and printed slogans and pledges pinned to the walls.

“We will not be silenced. We will rise once again and show pride for our Aryan Nation,” Dash read as he flashed the light over the words. “Jews do not rule America, Down with Jewish filth,” covered another wall.

“This is a Nazi clubhouse,” Dash said, as he continued to read the manifestos.”

“This isn’t something to be handled by local law enforcement. This has national implications. Who can we call?” I asked. I snapped photos of the walls with their Nazi messages.

“You’re right. I know the U.S. Attorney for this area. His office is in Burlington. We were friends when I practiced up there. Let’s get out of here, so I can call him.”

“Better get him on this fast before Jimmy comes in here, and while you’re at it, maybe he can prosecute Sherry’s kidnappers. They did take her across state lines from New Hampshire into Vermont, even though it was only across a river.”

We tiptoed up the steps and out the back door. Then we ran to Dash’s car.

Dash used his satellite phone. It was after five o’clock but like all lawyers, the U.S. Attorney didn’t keep nine-to-five hours. Dash spoke to him for ten minutes, explaining what we had seen and what details we knew of Roland’s murder.

Finally, Dash clicked off. “Curtis is going to call Jimmy Parsons right now and order him off the investigation. He’ll have the FBI and one of his assistants here in a few hours. I had to tell him how we got in the house and saw the meeting place. He promised not to reveal his source. He also told me that there have been rumors of a neo-Nazi cell in Northern New England. He was contacted by the rabbi from the temple here a few weeks ago complaining that there had been some anti-Jewish incidents and some members believed that there was an organization in our area.”

“Curtis? That’s the attorney’s name?”

“Yes, Curtis Lemay. He’s a real go-getter. I can’t believe this has been going on right under our noses.”

“You seem to be saying ‘you can’t believe’ an awful lot lately. Well, I don’t believe that no one knew about this. Everyone gossips in this village. Everyone knew who I was, what case I was handling. Your friend, Curtis, has had tips about this. The good news is Ken shouldn’t be a suspect any longer. It seems Roland wasn’t so interested in trees after all.”

“But now I think maybe someone in our Jewish community may be suspected. Let’s go back to the office and see if my mother is still there. I wonder if she’s heard about this neo-Nazi group.”

“If anyone knows everything, it’s sure to be Daisy,” I said