Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods (12 page)

Both men stared at me. “Are you all right?” Nick asked.

I stared back, blotted the drool, and removed the scarf with the kind of flourish I’d seen Hannah use. “Yeth. I am fine. And you?”

“You’ve been to the dentist, I see.”

“You are thertainly alert today,” I replied, projecting hauteur.

Neither man commented on my flapping lips or my unruly tongue, which was wise.

Sam got to work. From time to time I caught Nick smiling at me over Sam’s head. I smiled back, sort of. I stretched my inflated lips into what I believed was a smile. After twenty minutes or so, the specialist leaned back and explained that there was nothing amiss on the computer. He’d checked every file.

“The owner, Mister Verney, used this computer mostly for business and I find the accounts in order. He played some games, sent some emails, purchased a few things. That’s about it.”

Nodding in satisfaction, he started to close down. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Wait,” I said, raising my hand like a traffic cop. “Wet me twy thomthing.”

Sam smirked. I smiled my crooked, tubby-lipped smile, wondered whether my numb tongue were protruding a bit, but decided not to care as I eased into the chair he’d vacated.

I felt good here. Nothing trumped playing with a computer’s inner workings. This must be how a painter felt with a blank canvas and a palette full of paints, or an athlete felt when the opening ball was thrown.

I probed deeper, got into the guts of the hard drive where I checked registers this specialist didn’t realize existed, followed paths he had never traveled before. I didn’t look at him. No point in embarrassing the man.

Twenty minutes later I was still at it. Both men pulled up chairs on either side of me, Sam to watch in fascination, Nick to watch me. I felt his gaze, but for once was not distracted. I had hit my stride and was totally absorbed, something that happened frequently when I crossed these invisible barriers and explored.

“Anyone want a Coke?” Nick asked finally.

“Diet,” I said without looking at him, my unwieldy tongue handling the word with ease.

“What are you doing?”
The expert asked when Nick left. “I can’t follow you.”

I started to explain as clearly as I could.

After a few minutes he waved me off. “Never mind. You’ve lost me.”

Nick returned and set the Coke beside me, a straw in the can. I took a sip, swallowed some, drooled the rest.

As I wiped my chin, I said, “How embarrathing,” not embarrassed at all, which they both knew, I’m sure.

An hour and two Cokes later, the swelling had receded to a manageable level and I had most of the feeling back in my lips and tongue. I said to Nick, “Where is the computer that was networked to this one?”

Looking stunned, he said, “This was all we found. I rechecked the entire house myself.”

“The day Buster was murdered?”

“Yes, of course. But you know I didn’t take it until after Vivian was arrested. I didn’t see a second one. Our photographer went through the entire house with his camcorder the day Buster died, and I checked that video several times. There was no other computer. Unless it was in a location outside the house.”

I stopped cold and stared at him for several
seconds. “It must be the laptop,” I said. “Rhonda told me Buster worked occasionally on his laptop at her camp. I think whoever killed him has that laptop, and access to everything on it. Unless he left it with Rhonda. No. She would have mentioned it.”

Nick
closed his eyes briefly and I suspected he was thinking the same thing I was thinking. If I’d checked this computer when he’d picked it up, he would have had a better chance of finding the laptop. Such a stellar day that had been. I wondered if he was thinking that was the day I’d met his mother, the hostile one.

“Don’t say it,” he said. “I know.”

Oh, really? That I’m thinking about your mother?

“My money’s on Lenn
y,” I said instead. Sometimes I am kind. “I saw him arrive for work at the pharmacy yesterday carrying a briefcase, like the kind used to carry laptops. That didn’t make sense. I couldn’t imagine why he’d need his own computer, if that’s what was in the case.”

I thought about it. He could be goldbricking, adding to his hours while he played games on his laptop. Cha-ching, cha-ching.

“I’ll check it out,” Nick said.

“There’s more.”

He shot me a sideways glance. “Yes?” he asked.

“Today, Lenny was at the dentist
’s office working on a computer. He had the laptop again. I don’t know why since he was working on the dentist’s computer. Maybe he had Buster’s. If that’s so, then Lenny could be the murderer.”

I told him about the case.

He closed his eyes briefly. “Tell me you didn’t break into the dentist’s business office. I am the sheriff, you know. And that would be against the law.”

A little miffed, I stood and faced him, hands on hips. “When would I have had time for computer work at the dentist’s office? I had surgery today, in case you’re interested. Surgery. S-U-R-G-E-R-Y.”

“I thought you had a tooth filled?”

“Sure. Brush it aside as if it were nothing. First, I had seve
ral needles jabbed into my gums. Very painful. The result? Trauma. Big-time. Then, I was subjected to a high-speed drill gun … for an extended period of time. It was similar to the jackhammer that’s used to break up concrete.”

He smiled at me. “
So you just peeked in on Lenny? What did you see?”

I made him wait several seconds before I answered.

“Two computers. I saw an ace and a jack on the laptop screen. I think there were more cards but I couldn’t see them from where I was. Didn’t look like solitaire to me.”

“Could be gambling,”
Nick said. “I’ll check into it. But first, tell me again about last night. Trimble said he checked out everything and there was no evidence of a break-in. Do you feel okay about that?”

“I’m fine. So is Ida.
I checked early this morning and didn’t see any tracks around. I think Ida probably didn’t close the door tightly and it blew open.”

He seemed to study me a moment. “If anything else happens, call me immediately. Promise.”

“I will.”

He gave me a quick kiss and then hurried from the evidence room calling, “Trimble. Miller.”

I jumped up and followed. “I’m coming, too.”

As soon as the words were out, Arianna’s rebuke sounded in my head like a gong.

This is police business. Common sense should tell you to keep out of it
.

Too bad about her. I was going.

“We’ll take care of it,” Nick said.

I was about to blast him when he turned and reached for my hand, pulled it to his heart. “I think it would be
better if you didn’t come. I’m going to visit your dentist, then Buster’s place.”

Smooth operator. Thought he could charm me.

Then he lifted my hand, turned it gently, and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, Nora. I think you’re wonderful.”

Oh, all right. I was charmed. But I was still going. I didn’t acquiesce that easily.

“I’m coming,” I said. “Even though you make me feel like a princess at the ball.

“No. If you come, he’ll know it was you who tipped me off, and you’ll become a target. Or your family will.”

Damn. He was right.

“One of your guys made a video recording the
morning Buster’s body was found,” I said. “Of the whole house?”

“
Aye. And I’ve gone over it several times. Nothing unusual. No laptop.”

“Can I see it?”

“You think you’ll find something I missed?”

“I don’t know. I was in there before you. I don’t walk with my eyes closed, you know.”

“I know. Miller will set it up for you before we leave.”

He kissed me again. “See you later,
princess
.”

I watched the video several times and couldn’t see anything unusual. I had the feeling I’d missed something, but whatever it was eluded me. I’d replay it in my head and come back in a few days.

I could feel myself getting pulled in, needing to do more, find out faster who killed Buster Verney. What had I missed?

FIF
TEEN

I mentally replayed scenes from the video recording as I drove back to Ida’s to keep my appointment with Wild Walter, but thoughts about the nephews popped in and out of my head stopping the action. It was possible that one, or
both, of them murdered Buster. I pictured Stan running into the house for that last look at his uncle, saw Lenny standing there in his flame-shooting boots, berating his brother, and I wondered if part of it had been an act.

Something niggled at the back of my mind, something about Stan at the scene. I wonde
red what he had done when he ran inside. Had he rushed to his uncle’s room to contaminate the scene, or hijack the laptop? Unkind thoughts when he may have been genuinely upset. But possible. I tried to remember if I’d seen a laptop in Buster’s room, or any place else in the house. Nothing came.

I wondered how angry the nephews
were at Buster for withholding money from them. Evidently they knew he had money to dole out. Most of all, I wondered whether either of them were vicious enough to kill.

I was getting better at finding places, cutting down on my
driving time. I was finally feeling comfortable behind the wheel.

An army jeep, a real one, I think, was parked
close to Ida’s house. Dull green, old looking, small, no top, low-slung doors, but in good condition, at least paint-wise. It reminded me of one I saw in an old movie Ida had on a few nights ago.

The man in the driver’s seat stepped out when I pulled in back of him. He was big, a few inches over six feet, with a rock-solid look and a tanned face mapped with wrinkles. He wore well-worn jeans and a brown leather jacket that hugged his waist. When he angled around I noticed the American flag high on his left sleeve. He didn’t look wild or daffy to me. Determined, I’d say, like a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

We shook hands. Up close, he looked like he was in his late fifties. Hard to tell.

“Walter Cooper,” he said, his hazel eyes unsmiling, looking at me with a piercing gaze that seemed to search inside my head.

I returned the scrutiny.

“Nora Lassiter.”

I was a New York City woman, after all, and not easily intimidated, if that was what he was trying to do. “Glad to meet you, Walter. Glad a family member is interested in the property. Thought I might have to sell outside the family.”

“Umm,” he replied, still staring.

“Well. Let’s skip all this chit-chat,” I said, wishing there were some chit chat. “You know I have fifty acres for sale, don’t you?”

“Ay-uh. Not interested in all of it.”

“Oh. That might be a game-changer.” If I sold this off in bits and pieces it could take forever. “How much are you interested in?”

“Three, four acres.”

“Such a small section.”

“You don’t want to sell?”

“I’m not sure. It might work,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. This called for a family conference. I’d get the aunts’ input.

“Still interested in showing me the land?”

“Sure.”
I wondered whether Nick had cleared him yet. We started walking around the house. “What do you intend to use the land for?”

I was tempted to ask about his relationship with Buster, but decided to hold off a while. Get a feel for him first.

“Well, Ma’am. I’m finally going to get a place of my own. Right now I live with my sister. My place burned down years back and I had no insurance so I lost everything. I only had a small parcel of land and I sold that off to stay solvent.”

“Sorry to hear about the insurance problem.”

I wondered about the divorce and who was living in the house when it burned down. “Was anyone at home when that happened?” I asked, ducking under a low branch.

“No.”

“Fortunate.”

We walked toward the water.

“The property begins on the far side of the stream,” I said, wondering if he’d saved the money for the property or come into a windfall. Was he paying alimony? Why had his wife moved to Arizona? So far from him, so far from family? I’m too nosy for Maine.

“One thing more,” he said.

Pausing by the tool shed, I raised my brows and looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I want the parcel that touches on the road on the far side. I plan to set up a little
… shop.”

Shop. Why my thoughts flew to porn, I’ll never know. Maybe because I’m a city girl.

Cautiously, I asked, “What kind of shop?”

Wild Walter finally smiled at me, I think. A tiny movement of his lips occurred at the right corner of his mouth. This had to be his version of the smile. Who could say for sure?

We stood by the shed for another awkward moment. Finally he said, “I’m a chainsaw artist.”

I stepped away from the shed, which I knew for a fact contained a chainsaw.

“An artist? Wonderful.” I sounded earnest. I know I did.

Without hesitating, I headed for the stream that marked
the end of Ida’s property.

I would not think about
The Texas Chainsaw Massacres
. At all. Besides, the aunts would have warned me if Uncle Walter were dangerous. Great-Aunt Agnes did think he was a little nutty. That was all.

“I do sculptures of animals. Squirrels are my favorites,” Walter said.

“Squirrels,” I said. “I love squirrels.” Big fat lie.

“I sell online now, but I know I’ll do better with an actual store.”

The relief I felt had me checking the water level of the stream. I should have worn my sturdy, tough and oh-so-practical L.L. Bean boots since the flat stepping stones in the stream were submerged after last night’s rain. My cuffed Uggs might not be up to this challenge. They came with warnings about visible water stains if not handled properly.

Oh, thank God Uncle Walter created sculptures of squirrels.

“When we seal the deal, I’ll make you one,” Walter said as I studied the stepping stones. “And we can do that as soon as I get the coins. And the tank. Buster’s coins. His tank, too.”

D
amn. The stones were submerged deeper than I expected.

“I thought you just said Buster’s coins and a tank. Did I mishear?”

“You heard right.”

“Buster gave you coins? Like a coin collection, you mean? And a tank to go with them?”

We stopped at the edge of the stream and I watched the water flow over the stones, several inches high from what I could tell.

“Ay-uh.”

“What kind of tank?”

“Sherman tank, Ma’am.”

“What exactly do you mean by Sherman tank?”

“A World War II tank. One built in the 1940s. This one’s an M4A3E8 with an M2 plow.”

I gaped at him, and I am not a person who gapes. It’s been many years since I last gaped.

“Oh, yes. That one,” I said finally.

He stared at me, puzzled.

“I’m not sure what I expected, Walter, but that wasn’t even in the ball park. You’re making me crazy. Tell me about the damn tank. And I’m warning you, if you give a clipped answer or anything with numbers or letters I may have to hurt you.”

“Ay-uh.”

He smiled his Walter-style smile again. “Buster’s father bought this army tank at the end of the WWII and used it to plow trails on his property. I rode in it when I was a kid. About forty years ago he stored it in a cinderblock garage next to a hill. Tr
ees grew up around it. The garage became part of the hill.”

“But it’s not your
s.”

“A while back I told Buster I wanted to get my own place again. Time to move out of my sister’s place. Set up my sculptures. Then find a way to draw attention to them. He suggested the tank to attract attention and mentioned starting an ordnance museum, too, maybe doing some military sculptures. Buster was partial to military equipment and personnel. Like me. It was time to get rid of that tank. He said I could have it when I got around to taking it.
”

“He wrote this down?”

“
Since he was doing up a new will, he said he’d include the tank and his coin collection. Just in case.”

“So you don’t have the coins yet. How much is the coin collection worth?”

“Don’t know exactly. Good amount, I suppose.”

Humph. I had the feeling he knew the approximate worth of the collection. I wondered how I could check this.

Meanwhile, this man was going to park a tank on my property. For one reckless moment my imagination took wing and I saw myself driving a tank. The fantasy came to an abrupt end as I fumbled with the controls and crashed into several trees and a house.

“Is any of this a secret? I mean about the will?”

“Don’t know.”

My gaze went from Walter to the stones in the stream and back to Walte
r. My thoughts doubled back, also. “So do you have any idea when you’ll have possession of the tank and coins?”

“Soon.”

I should listen to the aunts on this one. Walter had no money for land.

I hadn’t seen any hint of a will on the computer. We had to find that missing laptop.

Being a rush-to-judgment person, it took about three seconds to decide the nephews knew about a new will.

My heart beat a little faster. Lenny and Stan were in the outer circles of the target, inching toward the bull’s eye. Again.

“How new was this will?”

“Several months old, I think. That’s if he filed it. He was doing it on his computer first, then he was gonna take it to the lawyer.”

“Do you know whether he ever gave it to the lawyer?”

“Wouldn’t know that.”

I wondered whether the stones were slippery, so I waved my hand indicating that Walter should cross first.

What a crappy day. First the dentist, then the lisp, followed by the missing laptop, and now I’m faced with the possible destruction of my beautiful Uggs. As if all that weren’t enough, it was possible that a military tank would be moving into my backyard. Good thing I’d skipped the visit to Vivian and the animal kingdom.

I needed to get back to the city.

Agile Walter crossed rapidly, not even bothering to put his arms out for balance, not caring that his Wolverines were wet. I rose to the challenge, sort of, and headed over, arms extended like a gymnast on a balance beam, my heart breaking a bit with each step, especially when I saw the long hairs of my Mongolian sheep cuffs floating outward. I couldn’t remember whether I’d brought the cleaning
directions with me. I probably needed a special cleaning solution which I didn’t have. Dreamer that I was, I wondered whether the Country Store carried Ugg cleaner.

“So, look around. My land begins here. There’s access from the other side, about fifty acres in that general direction,” I said, pointing. “North, I think.”

“That’d be west, Ma’am.”

“Fine. West.” I hoped the boots weren’t ruined. “I think it’s a few miles. Not sure how you calculate.”

We walked a bit.

Buster’s land. Buster’s will.

“I hadn’t heard about a new will,” I said, “although I’m not sure I would have. I mean, why should I? It’s none of my business.”

“Ay-uh.”

“Lenny and Stan have moved back in the house. I guess they miss their uncle very much,” I said, reaching for his opinion of the nephews.

“Wouldn’t know about that.”

I gave up. “Who would be interested in a Sherman tank?” I asked as Walter surveyed the land.

“Don’t know. Some folks, I suppose.”

“How much to buy one?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. I know one sale that went through for quarter of a million. But that one was in fine shape. Others go for less. It depends.”

A quarter of a million? This day was filled with surprises.

I told Uncle Walter I’d decide whether to sell in a few days and get back to him. I didn’t know how likely it was that someone would buy the entire fifty acres that I was paying tax on. To go piecemeal or not, that was the question.

But then, how likely was it that he would come up with the money? I had a strong feeling that most of the money would come because of Buster’s death. Something to think about.

I stood on the front porch and watched Uncle Walter
bump down the driveway in his jeep that really was a jeep, the kind that actually had been over hill and dale along a dusty trail.

The October sky was overcast, the cold moving in like a warning of things to come. I flashed back to a snowy day in my childhood. I was trudging down our driveway to get the mail, pretending I was lost in a blizzard. Fierce winds howled through the trees and swooped down to send me tumbling into a drift. Undaunted, I fought my way up and faced the elements with unfailing bravery, with courage unmatched by friend or foe. I was Supergirl.