Tobe turned to Sunny. “What did he say to you?”
“He wanted my help in persuading Jane to give him money,” Sunny told him. “And he suggested we might spend some of it together.” Sunny rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve seen pictures of Martin, but he was a very attractive man, and he didn’t mind spreading the charm around.”
“Way too much,” Jane agreed grimly.
“Maybe even more than you know.” Sunny related her conversation with the diner waitress. “It sounds to me as if the receptionist, Dawn Featherstone, was involved with Martin. That would explain her reaction when we showed up—jealousy. And apparently he had at least one other lady friend.”
“So you’re suggesting at least two other possible suspects.”
Sunny opened her mouth, on the verge of also mentioning the Russian cigarettes, but then decided against it. All she had was a foreign cigarette filter suggesting that someone had been watching Martin. Given Martin’s habits, that watcher could have been a detective getting the goods for a suspicious spouse. A detective with weird smoking habits, but still . . .
Tobe looked at her. “Did you want to add something?”
“Only that Jane also mentioned to me that Martin had a habit of approaching some better-off clients for money.”
Tobe frowned thoughtfully. “Do you think he was spreading his charm there, too?”
Jane’s cheeks went pink. “Probably.”
The lawyer stood. “If you haven’t guessed it by now, I’m taking this case.” He outlined some of the practicalities and gave Jane some papers to sign. “If Fitch or Trumbull comes at you again, refer them to me,” he said. “I know it’s not easy, having your life stirred around like this. But you will come through it.”
“Thanks,” Jane said, taking his hand. “For the first time in a week, I feel as if I can really breathe.”
Two quick raps sounded on the door, and an anxious-looking young woman poked her head in, waving some papers.
“Now I’ve got to get back to the present emergency,” Tobe Phillips apologized. “Can you find your way out?”
They made their way to the reception area. As they did, an elevator opened and a guy came out, carrying a bulging briefcase—more papers apparently. Sunny dashed up and stopped the doors from closing. They stepped aboard.
In the elevator, Sunny said, “Well, that was a surprise.”
Jane nodded. “A nice one, for once.”
They got downstairs, outside, and into Jane’s car. Sunny pulled out her cell phone. “I just want to check the office machine. Make sure there are no last-minute calls.”
She dialed the number for the MAX office, got the answering machine, and punched in the code for messages.
“Damn,” she muttered. “One message.”
“This is, ah, Larry,” an unfamiliar voice said, obviously flustered at dealing with a machine. “From, ah, Portsmouth Tobacconists. That gentleman you asked about? He’s coming in tonight.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Sunny groaned.
Looks as if I’ll have to talk about those Russian cigarettes after all.
“There’s somewhere we have to get—and quickly,” she told Jane, giving her directions to the shop. “I’ll explain while we drive.”
In between telling Jane about the exotic cigarette and where she’d found it, Sunny punched in the number for Portsmouth Tobacconists. “Hello, Larry, this is the lady with the twenty. Thanks for calling me. Has the gentleman shown up?”
“Ah, no,” Larry said, sounding nervous.
“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. If he comes before then, stall him.”
She hung up on Larry asking how he could do that.
They arrived at the tobacco store, and Jane looked for parking while Sunny went in, checking that the place was empty. Larry jittered behind the counter, a lot less chatty this evening.
“Has he been here yet?” Sunny asked.
Larry shook his head.
“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be outside. When the guy comes in, you can—”
“I thought you knew him,” Larry interrupted.
“It’s just that it’s sort of dark outside,” Sunny improvised. “I’d hate to miss him.”
“At his size, I think he’d be hard to miss,” Larry said.
Sunny hurried back outside, where Jane had gotten a space across the street from the store. Not long after, it was clear that the man in question had arrived, and Sunny could see what Larry meant about him being hard to miss: This character added a football linebacker’s width to a basketball forward’s height. His head and shoulders almost brushed the top of the door frame, and a gray herringbone overcoat like a big wool tent flapped around him.
“Yow!” Jane said.
Sunny had to agree. “So much for the theory about smoking stunting your growth.” She peered through the windshield. “Okay, he was in the blue SUV that passed us and parked down the block. That means he may pull a U-turn to go back the way he came.”
“Have you done this before?” Jane asked. “Because if you have, you can drive.”
For a second, Sunny debated spinning a tale to make Jane feel better, but then decided on the truth. “This is my first time, too,” she said. “But if he makes the U-turn, give him some space before you try it. And don’t ride on his rear bumper.”
Jane stared at her. “I guess they teach you some weird things in journalism school.”
Sunny laughed. “J-school, hell. That’s from watching cop shows.”
The guy came out, a carton of smokes tucked under one massive arm. He walked down the block to the SUV and got in, making the big vehicle rock for a moment. A second later, the truck’s rear lights lit up, and it pulled out into the street, heading to the corner and making a right.
“Okay, start,” Sunny said. “He can’t see us now, but we’d better get back in sight of him.”
Jane brought the BMW to life and quickly took the corner. Their quarry was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay, take a right at the next corner,” Sunny directed. “Maybe he’s doing that instead of making the U-turn.”
They made two turns and spotted the SUV with a three-block lead on them, which Jane closed to one block. The driver ahead didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, dawdling his way around downtown Portsmouth, seemingly taking turns at random. Jane sat white-knuckled at the wheel out of sheer frustration. She muttered curse words as cars cut her off or beeped at her to hurry up. “What the hell is this guy doing?”
“Maybe he’s got a meeting somewhere and is just killing time,” Sunny suggested.
They followed the SUV into a more industrial neighborhood. The few stores that fronted on the street had closed. “Well, this is a good place for a meeting—if you like spy movies,” Jane said.
The big guy’s SUV made a sudden turn into a narrow alleyway.
“Cut off your lights and turn in,” Sunny said. “If he keeps going, we can follow him. If we don’t see his lights, we’ll pretend we’re making a K-turn—”
“And get out of here?” Jane suggested.
“I guess so,” Sunny said. She’d hoped the guy they were following might lead her to some hangout where they’d be able to watch him discreetly, maybe even eavesdrop. As the thrill of the chase died down, Sunny’s more cautious side weighed in. This guy was a possible killer, after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a great idea to get too close to him. Still, if they got an idea where he stopped in this dark alley, they could come back in the daytime and get an address.
Jane made the turn, and had to jam on the brakes—the SUV was right in front of them.
And then, a second later, another SUV came pulling up behind, boxing them in.
Sunny and Jane looked at each other.
Well, Dad, looks as if you were right,
Sunny thought.
I’ve definitely bitten off more than I can chew.
A figure in
a heavy overcoat got out of the truck behind them and stepped over to Jane’s window, his hand in one pocket. At the same time, the big guy had appeared beside Sunny’s door, blocking her in, too. And he also had his hand in a pocket of his big, floppy coat.
The guy by Jane rapped on the window with his free hand. She lowered it a little.
“We have to talk,” the man said in a pleasant tenor voice. Sunny caught a slight accent. “Please to come out.”
With his big friend keeping watch over both Sunny and Jane, the smaller guy went into the alley and opened a door. Sunny exchanged a look with Jane. They really didn’t have a choice in the matter. So they got out of the BMW and went inside.
They found themselves in a sort of foyer, a plain, concrete-floored box with a heavy metal door facing the entranceway. Sunny was pretty sure if she tried the handle, she’d find it locked. As for the way back out, the big guy planted himself in front of that, more effective than any lock.
The fellow who’d spoken before put out his hand. “Identification, please.”
Sunny and Jane wordlessly handed over their wallets. While he looked through them, Sunny noticed that, despite his heavy overcoat, he was actually a slim guy. The big man would probably make about three of him.
Mr. Slim held up Jane’s driver’s license, his sharp features relaxing a little. “Mrs. Doctor Rigsdale,” he said. “Please accept my excuses. And you, too, Miss Coolidge. When Olek here calls me, says someone is following him, and asks for instructions, you might understand why we worry.”
“But now that you know who we are, you’re not worried?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” the man said simply. “I am Dani, by the way. And while I don’t know you, I do know—did know—Mr. Doctor Rigsdale.”
He breathed hard through his nose. “He owes me money.”
Hmmm,
Sunny thought.
He uses past tense for Martin, but present tense on the owing part.
“I tell you a story,” Dani said, handing back their wallets. “It goes back to the time I live in Kiev—Ukraine. My father, he has a business . . . let us call it moving things.”
“That can be a useful business,” Sunny said. “Like when people need to get their furniture to a new house.”
Dani shrugged. “That’s not exactly what we’d do.”
“Or when you need to get food from the country into a city,” Jane suggested, but Dani shook his head.
“There are things that people might want,” Sunny said slowly, remembering her friend Vanya’s comments on Ukrainian smuggling rings, “That other people—like a government—wouldn’t like to move.”
Dani nodded and smiled. “Exactly right. Sometimes it could be cigarettes, or vodka—or even money.”
“Sounds like a good business,” Sunny said.
“Thank you.” Dani gave her a courtly bow. “But then my father dies, and since I am a younger son, I must go from Kiev, or there will be trouble. So I go to Montreal, where some of my countrymen are, to start my own business there. Olek comes with me, because, well, because he takes care of me since I was a small boy.”
He shrugged. “But instead of business, I get trouble again. So Olek and I leave Montreal and come to this city. Everything looks good so far. But I have to ask—do you want to make trouble, too?”
Jane was pale, but she didn’t lack for nerve. “I just want to find out who killed my husband. It’s bad enough that I’m being blamed for it. But nobody should get away with murder.”
Dani nodded. “Oh, yes, that makes trouble for me, too—on top of the trouble your husband makes. But first a question. How is it that you follow Olek?”
Sunny explained about finding the cigarette and tracking down a source. Dani shot his bodyguard a reproachful look. Olek ducked his head, like a big dog who realized he’s done wrong.
“How many times do I tell you, ‘Don’t smoke those things, Olek!’” Dani scolded. “If you want to burn your tongue, there are American cigarettes like the Camels! They’re cheaper and they’re bigger!”
Looking downcast, Olek mumbled an apology. His voice was so low and rumbly, Sunny couldn’t tell whether he spoke in English or Ukrainian.
Dani reached up to clap his bodyguard on the shoulder. “I can understand, Olek. You want a taste of home, even if it tastes terrible. But see what you do here? These lovely ladies are thinking we killed the Dr. Rigsdale.”
“We’d be just as happy if you could show us we’re wrong,” Sunny suggested.
“I can tell you you’re wrong, and I can prove it,” Dani said. “It is a thing of business. The Dr. Rigsdale is better for us alive than dead.” He gestured as if he were carrying a large imaginary package in his hands. “We have much money coming in from people who owe us. The doctor, he has a bank account. We put our money though his bank—”
Sunny stared. “You were using Martin’s practice to launder money?”
Dani nodded vigorously. “He helps us make nice, clean money.”
“Let me guess,” Sunny said. “You gave Martin the money to try and fix up that house—at least to build that impressive-looking office.”
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Dani said. “He had all kinds of plans to set up things just the way he likes it. But it all costs more money than he expects.”
Sunny nodded. “And what happened when he couldn’t pay it back?”
“Then he had to do favors for us. It’s only fair.” Dani adopted a virtuous look that morphed into a crafty smile. “Besides, it’s a good kind of business. Many people pay in cash. That makes it easy to bring in money from other places.”
“And that’s what you do,” Jane said, “move around money?”
Dani beamed. “Exactly. So we have a good thing with your husband. To keep it going, we needed him alive.”
“But you said he made trouble,” Sunny pointed out.
That dimmed Dani’s smile a bit. “He was a very charming man. Very handsome and charming. He got a bank officer—a very foolish woman—to tell him when an important transaction would clear. And then he took the cash.”
“Well, that sounds just like Martin,” Jane snorted. “Handsome, charming, and untrustworthy as hell.”
“It also sounds like the kind of thing that could get a person hurt,” Sunny said. “Or even killed.”
“No, no, no. I am still starting out here and would rather not have trouble,” Dani replied. “But I find out about this quicker than Dr. Rigsdale expects, and I tell him he is not as smart as he thinks he is. He promises it was all a misunderstanding, that he just needed it to impress an investor. It will go back. To make sure, I have Olek keep an eye on him.”
That explains the observation post and the cigarettes,
Sunny thought. “Did Olek see anyone come to the office the night that Martin died?” she asked.
Dani shot off a question in quick Ukrainian. Olek rumbled an answer, shaking his head negatively.
“He saw no one,” Dani reported.
When he saw the look on Sunny’s face, the mobster burst out, “If I wanted him dead, you don’t think Olek could do that? He could—” Dani slammed his hands together as if he were squishing a snowball. “We don’t need to fill him with poison.”
“That might be another way to avoid trouble,” Sunny said, “making it look as if other people did it.”
“I tell you again, it bad business to kill the Dr. Rigsdale,” Dani insisted.
“Maybe you decided to make an example of him,” Jane suggested, “because he made trouble for you.”
“Listen.” As Dani’s tone got less friendly, his English got worse. “You don’t kill nobody if they aren’t telling you where the money is first.”
“How much money was it?” Sunny asked.
Dani named a six-figure sum. Jane gasped. It was the same amount that Martin had been trying to get from her—the amount that had earned him a glass of wine in the face.
“Oh, Martin,” she muttered.
“It’s a lot of money,” Dani somberly agreed. “And it isn’t only mine. Sooner or later, the people in Montreal, they start to ask questions. I need to find that money. You want to find who kills your Dr. Rigsdale. Maybe we help each other, eh?”
“Maybe.” Sunny was willing to go along with Dani if it meant getting out of there. But other than discovering this Ukrainian connection, she hadn’t found out anything useful yet.
“Because I think whoever kills the doctor, that person stole my money,” Dani said. “And I got to get it back.”
He looked intently at Jane.
Oh, God, he knows about the foundation,
Sunny thought.
“Your husband that used to be, he talked about you,” Dani said. “How when he finished with you, then all of a sudden you have money.”
“It’s not my money,” Jane tried to explain.
“But would you use it to save a life?”
Jane looked stricken.
Would it have made a difference if Martin had explained about getting in over his head with the Ukrainians instead of trying to charm the money out of her?
Sunny wondered. And then,
Wait a minute. Why would he need that much from Jane? He still had the money he stole from them.
Or did he?
Dani shrugged and spread his hands. “Because if we don’t find our money, we got to get it from somewhere.”
He gestured to Olek. “So now we let you go. But we be in touch, eh?”
Olek opened the door to the alley, politely holding it as Sunny and Jane made their way out. As they got into Jane’s BMW, Dani stepped past them into his SUV. He pulled it away so it no longer blocked their path. Then he got out and made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
Jane took the hint. She started her car, backed it onto the street, and drove off. When they were about ten blocks and two turns away, she pulled to the side of the street. “I’ve got to stop for a minute,” she said. “My hands are shaking too much to drive.”
Sunny knew what she meant. She was shivering, and it had nothing to do with the cold outside.
Jane slowly sank forward until her forehead rested on the wheel. “Oh, Martin,” she moaned, “what have you gotten me into?”
“The first question is, do we tell anybody?” Sunny said. “Our new friend Dani was trying to be nice, but he’s obviously a mobster.”
“And that Olek . . .” Jane just shuddered. “Following him was not one of your better ideas, Sunny.”
“My enthusiasm got the better of my common sense,” Sunny confessed. “It’s the kind of mistake a real rookie reporter would have made.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe being such rank amateurs is what saved us. I don’t think they’d have been so pleasant and forgiving if Will had been along.”
On the other hand,
she thought,
Will would have stopped us.
But she didn’t actually say that.
“Maybe.” Jane sounded doubtful, not to mention worried. “But they’re expecting us to help them—or give them a big chunk of money.”
“Well, we definitely have to find out more about them,” Sunny said. “I can ask Ken Howell at the
Crier
to see if his buddies on the other local newspapers have heard anything about new loan sharks in town. And maybe, if I’m careful, I can ask Will—”
“You can’t!” Jane sat bolt upright, staring at her in panic. Then, a little more quietly, “I don’t think they’d like you passing along what they said.”
“I can talk about finding cigarettes, and give the names as something I overheard.” Sunny tried to calm her down. “Then we’ll see what Will can find out.”
She raised a hand to stave off any more protests from Jane. “When Sheriff Nesbit ordered Will to cooperate, he gave him a direct order. Will has to answer any question that Trumbull wants to ask him. As far as I know, Trumbull hasn’t asked anything about Ukrainian gangsters. We’re just trying to find out about Martin’s finances.”
Jane gave her a long, odd look. “The longer I hang around with you, the more I’m willing to bet that you have a very perverted view of the truth,” she finally said.
Sunny could only shrug. “You probably wouldn’t lose money that way. Sadly, there’s one thing that always comes with a reporter’s job: you get to hear a lot of lies.”
When they got back across the bridge into Kittery Harbor, Sunny got on the phone. “Hey, Dad? Sorry I’m running a little later than I expected. Have you eaten yet?”
“Kind of hard, when the cupboard is just about bare,” Mike replied. “I’ve been looking at one of those little cans you feed your friend, wondering if I put in a little chopped onion and mustard, maybe it would taste like tuna salad.”
Sunny laughed. “Trust me, Dad, it would take a lot more than a few condiments to make cat food taste like tuna salad.” She dug out her wallet. “What do you say to a pizza? Maybe half mushroom and half broccoli.”
“You know,” Mike said, “when I was younger, there used to be this stuff called pepperoni . . .”
“Yeah, and I used to have a dad who had a healthy heart,” Sunny shot back. “Be happy I didn’t suggest pineapple chunks.”
She looked in her wallet and scowled. Then she glanced over at Jane. “Would you mind some company? A pie is a little much for two people. Jane, would you like to join us?”
“What?” Mike said into the phone.
“Are you sure—” Jane began.
“Fine, it’s all set up. See you in about half an hour, Dad.” Sunny ended the call and gave Jane a big smile. “There’s just one thing. You’ll have to pay the freight on the pizza. I don’t have enough money with me.” Jane laughed, and readily agreed.
About twenty minutes later, Jane turned onto Wild Goose Drive. Sunny sat in the passenger’s seat, the cardboard pizza box in her lap, feeling the heat of the pie on her thighs, smelling the sauce, the cheese, and yes, the pepperoni on a couple of slices. She had to swallow deeply, or she’d have started to drool. How long ago was that sandwich she’d eaten at her desk?
Jane parked, and Sunny got out, carefully balancing the pie so that the cheese didn’t shift, and walked to the door. Since she was only carrying a sack with their free liter bottle of soda, Jane got there ahead of her and rang the bell.
“Figured it would save you doing contortions to get the key,” she said.
Mike’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. “Coming, coming.” He swung the door open and smiled at Jane. “Welcome, dear.” Then he turned to Sunny. “Let’s get the guest of honor into the kitchen.”
“And by that he means the pizza,” Sunny explained.