Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods (22 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

The episode on the bus steps had been a clear indicator that I needed a ready supply of band aids. Since the Country Store carried such a plain selection, I’d gone on the internet and ordered clear strips for maximum discretion. I selected ones that sported air channels for wound breathability. Time to test out that claim.

I headed straight for the ladies’ room to attend to my knee which was definitely bloody.

Two things hit me as soon as I opened the door. First, the strong smell of pine disinfectant, and second, the sight of Crystal with the long beautiful hair leaning so close to the mirror that I wondered whether she had an eye problem. Probably not. She was in the process of applying the reddest lipstick in the state of Maine. The right side of the lip bow was filled in, the left side was a blank canvas. She paused when she saw me. I remained by the door.

Like a sculpture chiseled in stone, we stood where we were, her with her half red lip, me with my bloody red knee.

I extended my hand. “Hi, I’m Nora Lassiter, in town since September, visiting family.”

She switched the tube to her left hand and shook hands with me. “Crystal Bruderinski, Nick Renzo’s former fiancée. I hear you’re up from New York City.” She glanced at my injured knee.

“Yes. That’s my home.”

She was an attractive woman with a smooth
complexion. I did notice a small previously squeezed pimple on her chin. She’d covered it nicely. Her eyes were dark, her lips full and half lipsticked.

“How long
will you be in Silver Stream?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

I loved the jeans she wore. The fit was perfect.

Just looking at her, I realized I was jealous, plain and simple, of her former relationship with Nick and of the fact that Arianna liked her and not me. I hated feeling this way.

Such petty thoughts.

Get over it, Nora. Grow up. You’re not in high school any more.

I decided to like Crystal. Period. She was probably a very nice person. At one time, Nick saw good qualities in her. I would too.

I debated whether to tell her I wanted to find out who murdered Buster before I left. I settled for an honest, but vague reply that should set her mind at ease. “I’m not here permanently.”

She smiled an obviously false smile that said very clearly that she didn’t believe me, and then her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “I hear you’ve been poking around in Nick’s murder investigation, causing problems.”

Obviously, it was going to be hard to like her, but I was determined. The look on her face when Nick and I
danced had been all-revealing.

“Causing problems?” I asked.

She waved her hand around as if the whole thing were inconsequential and meant little to her. “Something about you insisting on checking out a computer they took from the victim’s house. Or else you’d have a fit.”

The Arianna E
ffect was evident. Discretion and my resolve to be her friend kept me from firing back. Instead of a direct answer, I shrugged my shoulders, smiled and made the
mmmm
sound.

I followed the sound with, “I hear you lived in Boston. Great city. Amazing mix of past and present.”

“Yes. Great place, but it’s good to have a backup plan, a place to go if things don’t work the way you planned.” She waved the lipstick tube around, a look of concentration on her face as if she were trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say next.

A backup plan. Backup.

The word rattled around in my head. Computers had backups. Sometimes they came in the form of external hard drives, other times they were as small as flash drives.

Backup
.

It was like a veil had lifted. I’d been looking for the wrong thing. The laptop was gone, probably destroyed. Stan’s words under the beech tree resonated.

“ …
smashed that sucker … tire … driveway … no trace.
”

He might have been
telling them about the laptop.

So where was the backup? They must have made a backup.
Why hadn’t I considered this before?

“City life?” Crystal asked, breaking into my thoughts with a rhetorical question. “So many people pretending to be sophisticated. Most are a bunch of phonies.” She paused, her hand flying artfully to her mouth as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “Nothing personal. I don’t mean you, of course.”

“Of course not,” I said, deciding a backup was a definite possibility, especially a flash drive. The thought swirled in my head, taking my focus away from the lovely Crystal who was more interested in lobbing canon balls in my direction than in making a new friend.

She gave me a quick up and down glance. “Your knee seems to be bleeding. Did you fall?”

“Just a scratch,” I said as I wondered what I’d missed in my cursory search of Buster’s house. Sometimes people hide things in plain sight or in odd spots.

“I hope you weren’t chasing another perp when the accident occurred.” She gave a little titter. Her way of making fun of me? Of laughing at me?

“No, not tonight,” I said.

I gave up on the idea of being friends with Crystal.
That was not going to happen, ever. I wondered what Nick saw in her. It surprised me that he asked her to marry him. Then I caught myself. People are the sum of their experiences and I had no idea what experiences influenced him. If I understood one thing it was that I had no right to judge him because of his ex-fiancée. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone judging me based on Whatshisname.

“Well, I’ve got to get back. I promised Nick a dance,” Crystal said.

With that she popped the lipstick tube in her purse, closed the purse with a smart snap and headed for the door, her long dark hair flowing down her back like a prize collection of silken streamers. I stepped aside, thinking I should mention the unfinished upper lip. It looked funny.

I stepped away from the door to let her pass. “It was nice to meet you, Crystal.”

“Likewise,” she said.

By the time I returned to the dance, Nick had left on a call. I danced with a few cousins, had dinner with the aunts and left early. Hannah asked me to drive her ’65 Pontiac GTO again and I didn’t mind. I was finally getting the hang of shifting.

“Don’t strip the gears,” she cautioned. “And watch that brake. Jam your foot on it without hitting the clutch and we’ll stall.”

I got Nick’s text
as I pulled into Ida’s driveway: Very busy. Will call later
.

Later turned out to be several hours later. I was in bed with the covers up to my chin when Yo Yo Ma finally played the cello. The news was not good.

Nick sounded tired and disgusted. “Some drunk we were chasing plowed into a liquid propane tank at the side of his house. The impact loosened the connections. Sparks flew and the rest is history along with his house which is now a pile of ashes. Miller was hurt rescuing an occupant. He’s got a sprained ankle.”

“Oh, Nick, how awful. I’m so sorry to hear this. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but there’s more. Miller was supposed to head down to Portland on Monday to present a seminar at the Maine Sheriff’s Conference. Originally, I was scheduled to do it, but I gave it over to him weeks ago. Since that’s not happening now I’ll have to go. I won’t be back until Thursday.”

Disappointment hit me harder than it should have.

“I won’t see you for days.”

“Can’t be helped.”

We were both quiet for a bit and then he said, “I enjoyed dancing with you.”

“Me too you.”

“I wanted more.”

“Me too.”

“Crystal said you had a bloody knee. What happened?”

“I tripped. I’m fine.”

More silence.

“You were in detective mode?”

“Maybe.”

“Spying on who?”

I hesitated. “Stan and two guys.”

“Were you going to tell me about this?”

“Do you think I wouldn’t?”

“You indignant?”

“I am.” For effect, I produced my indignant huff.

Nick chuckled. “Find out anything interesting?”

“I only caught snatches of conversation. It’s hard to put it together, but I think Stan or Lenny destroyed the laptop. Can’t be sure unless they confess.”

“It’s probably gone. I’ve checked the dentist’s office, pharmacy, the Wilderness Camp, Lenny’s truck, Stan’s Chevy Blazer that should have been re
tired years ago, Buster’s house and his Dodge truck. They allowed it all without a search warrant.”

“No big surprise. They weren’t afraid of you finding anything. What if there’s a backup?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin looking. A backup could be on another computer, or another external hard drive.”

“Yes. Anyplace.”

“You plan to look for it, don’t you?”

“Would that be a problem?”

“Spinning your wheels, Nora. But if it makes you happy, spin away. Just keep it legal.”

“Certainly. Sheriff.”

“Good night, Nora.”

“I wish you could say that in person.”

“Not more than I wish it.”

“I feel like we’ve got so little time.”

“Your call, honey.”

TWENTY-NINE

Location, location, location, I thought, as I shivered my way from the shower to my room the next morning, the huge towel doing little to ward off the coating of frost I pictured forming on my shoulders.

It was all about location, which is why I decided to visit Vivian today, or rather Vivian’s property.

Fingers crossed, I phoned her.

“Hi, Vivian. Just wondering if you were going to be home this morning?” I danced in place to warm up.

“Oh, Nora. I’m glad you called. I was going to call you later and tell you I sent samples of the dog food out to be tested and I bought another brand for the dogs. Thank you so much for that information.”

“You’re welcome. I wish I’d found out sooner. I hope this solves the problem.”

I heard a sob. “I’m devastated. I may have fed my dogs tainted food. I could have caused their deaths and I blamed Buster.”

“You didn’t know, Vivian. Be at peace with yourself.”
I danced a little faster, and repeated my question. “Will you be home this morning?”

“No. I won’t be around till late this afternoon.”

Perfect.

“Okay. Another time then.” My teeth actually began to chatter. Nerves and cold, I suspected.

I was about to hang up when she began, “I … I’m … volunteering at the library. That’s why. They’re having a book sale of old books and sets of encyclopedias, in case you’re interested in buying.”

I hesitated a few seconds before saying, “I don’t think I’ll have time for the library today.”

“Oh, okay.” She sounded relieved. That was odd, but maybe she was embarrassed to see me.

When I clicked off, I danced into
my undies and my flannel shirt. God, help me, I was wearing a flannel shirt. My thoughts centered around Vivian and her apparent need to explain herself to me, as if I’d be checking up on her. Odd. Very odd.

Next I called Rhonda and found out that Lenny and Stan were both expected at her place this morning.

Perfect.

Everything was falling into place.

I tossed the cell on the bed, finished toweling my wet and cold hair, and got dressed. Vivian’s usually meant super casual, but since I wasn’t planning to actually visit the animals that populated the place, I chose my newest jeans and a white T-shirt. The cranberry wool socks were a nice touch meant to break up the white monopoly. I finished up with my treasured and freshly cleaned Uggs.

I’d wear my new white jacket with the fluffy trim around the hood. That would keep me warm. True, white was risky, but I wasn’t planning on rolling in the dirt today. No dogs on the horizon, no basement windows either.

After breakfast and a chat with Ida, I was off.

I
noticed that Lenny’s truck was still in his driveway. That was fine. I knew he would be leaving soon. I pulled into Vivian’s driveway, and parked as far from the dog pen as possible. The racket was incredible. As soon as I got out of the truck the noise ratcheted up a few notches and was accompanied by lots of hopping and jumping. When I gave the Poms a little smile and a big wave, the tail-wagging increased. I felt compelled to visit. I stood outside the chain link enclosure and chatted a bit, filling them in on my plan. They were cute and if they could understand, I’m sure they’d approve of what I was about to do.

I pulled my hood tighter against the breeze and looked around for a good spot to watch from.

It was colder than usual, breezy too. I was glad I had the hood.

I rooted in my bag for the mace canister, found it and slipped it into my pocket. Best to keep it
nearby in case I was faced with moose danger, which I didn’t think was a possibility because I wouldn’t be in the woods long and I did not intend to go far. Besides, I was close to Ce-Ce and close to Vivian’s house, both excellent escape sites.

Just to be on the safe side, I picked up a good-sized
rock, hefted it from one hand to the other and put that in my other pocket.

I pulled out my new binoculars and
tested them. Wonderful. I hung them around my neck. With my hobo bag angled cross-body in back, mace canister and rock in my pockets, I made my way through the trees until I located a great spot, a downed log next to a tree with a low branch. I lifted my binoculars and looked around. Everything was quiet.

Perfect.

Once up in this tree, I’d have a prime view of Lenny’s house. As soon as he left I would go there and do what I had to do.

This was going well.

I studied the relationship of the log to the branch. The placement of the two brought back memories of gym class and the parallel bars. I’d never mastered those. But these should not be a problem.

I had a flashback to Sport’s Night in middle school, and my adolescent attempt to do something graceful on the parallel bars. My mother’s only comment after she saw me execute my moves was that perhaps it had been a mistake to cancel my ballet lessons, regardless of my lack of ability.

Pushing negative thoughts aside, I stepped onto the log, quite gracefully, I thought, and reached for the branch. I pictured myself in the gym with everyone watching my elegant moves. Then I threw my right leg over the branch and hoisted.

Next thing I knew, I was spinning upside down by one leg, swinging back and forth, back and forth as the contents of my
hobo bag tumbled onto the log and bounced into the underbrush. I should have zipped it. The binoculars swung to and fro and the jacket flopped down around my head. I couldn’t see. Breathing wasn’t that easy either. But the worst, if I were ever asked to choose, would be the rock in my pocket, obviously stuck in the lining, that thumped against the side of my head.

Using all my skill and, I think, every muscle in my body, I grabbed the branch, pulled myself up a bit, and unhooked my knee. Both feet slammed onto the log. After picking up my equipment
and replacing the contents of my bag, I tried again, this time with a little less oomph in the initial hoist. It was not graceful, but it worked.

From here I could see Lenny’s truck. He hadn’t left yet. I used my binoculars and scanned the area. Not a moose in sight.

Okay. Now it was going well.

Everything was in place.

I honed my plan. As soon as Lenny left, I’d go into his house and follow my hunch.

Backup.

If there was a flash drive where I suspected, I’d make a copy on my netbook and take off. I’d drive home at a nice leisurely clip. Aunt Ida was making pot roast tonight, something to look forward to.

It
seemed to take forever, but Lenny finally appeared, got in his truck and left. I waited about ten minutes before I headed for the house. Lenny left the door unlocked. Good. I slipped inside and ran to the refrigerator. I stopped, my hand poised in mid-air.

It had to be here.

Had to be here.

Had to.

I closed my eyes for a brief second, wishing, praying, hoping. When I opened them, I yanked the refrigerator door open. The dirty sock was still nestled between the jar of pickles and some moldy cheese. Holding my breath, I reached in and felt the flash drive through the material and gave a silent ‘yes.’

I pulled out my netbook and
set it up on the kitchen table next to paper plates with smeared egg yolks and toast crusts. I pushed the drive into the USB port, breathing hard. Waiting. Waiting.

I hated being here. I should have told someone I was coming. Not that anything was going to happen, but as a safety precaution a person should always tell someone where they’re going. I’d neglected to do that.

Six documents came up. I highlighted all and dragged them to my documents’ folder. Three had the word ‘will’ in the title.