Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) (7 page)

11

The North Shore home of Esther and Ira Rose had a For Sale sign in the snow. A moving van was parked in the driveway, and Stride saw two men struggling to relocate an oak china cabinet from the house to the interior of the truck. As he headed for the front door, he saw moving boxes through the picture window.

The Roses had a perfect location on the North Shore highway. Their large yard sloped toward the scenic drive, and the entire house looked out on the blue expanse of Lake Superior. Every day offered a sunrise on the water. However, Esther Rose had obviously decided to move on with her life somewhere else, after her husband died under Janine Snow’s hands on the operating table.

Esther met Stride at the door. She didn’t look like a murderer, but she also didn’t look like a woman who would send a threatening letter in exquisite penmanship – which is what she’d done.
You stood there and watched Ira die. You killed him. I hope you can feel something in that cold, cold heart of yours. I hope you suffer the same fate someday – standing helpless over the dead body of someone you love.

She was in her sixties. It was mid-morning, but she could have been dressed for a country club dinner, in silk blouse, skirt and heels. She was small in stature, almost birdlike. She had no gray hair; it was well-colored to an attractive auburn and stylishly bobbed. She wore makeup and knew how to use it. The diamond ring on her finger was large and gaudy, and her earrings sparkled.

‘I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me in the midst of your move,’ Stride said.

Esther’s expression wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t unfriendly. ‘Yes, well, I know why you’re here.’

‘Do you?’

She waved him into the house. With a small gesture of her hand, she directed the moving men outside to have a cigarette in the sun. Stride followed her into the living room that overlooked the lake, and despite the scattered boxes, there were chairs in which to sit. Esther took the end of a yellow sofa that was positioned to take full advantage of the view. A rose-colored china cup sat on an end table next to her. Her knees were pressed together, and she sat with a rigid posture.

‘I assume you found my note,’ she said, looking embarrassed.

‘Yes, we did.’

Esther stared at the water. White ice hugged the shore, and the sun-dappled water beyond it was so blue that it was almost black. ‘Obviously, I regret what I said to Dr. Snow after the surgery. It was foolish to give in to my emotions that way. However, I understand your concerns, Lieutenant. I talked about wishing that she would experience the pain that I did in losing my husband. And now she has. It raises questions.’

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened,’ Stride said.

She glanced around the house with a look of sad nostalgia. Every surface had memories. ‘This was supposed to be our summer retirement home. Ira and I love – loved – Duluth. My children wish I would keep it. They still see it as a place for the family to gather. And my grandchildren love coming up here. But no. I’ll be living permanently in our condo in downtown Minneapolis now. There’s an energy and excitement to the city that helps me. I don’t need a reclusive lake getaway anymore. Being alone, with time to think – well, that’s the last thing I want now.’

‘I understand.’ Stride glanced at the mantle over the stone fireplace and saw that one photograph hadn’t been packed yet. He saw a man in a tuxedo, with curly graying hair, a leathery lined face, and jutting nose and chin. The man’s smile was white and broad. He looked happy. ‘Is that Ira?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Esther got up and retrieved the photo, and she had a hard time looking away. ‘Ira needed heart valve replacement surgery. As you might guess, resources were not an issue for us. We could have gone to the Mayo or any of the finest hospitals in the country. But we had friends up here who expressed the highest vote of confidence in Dr. Snow. We put our trust in her. Tragically, that trust was misplaced.’

Stride was silent. He’d seen people place blame many times. For crimes. For accidents. He said softly: ‘There are risks in any surgery, aren’t there? Especially something as complex as cardiac surgery.’

‘Of course. We both knew that. But this was negligence. The surgery itself seemed to go well, but there was evidence of post-operative bleeding. The nurses saw it. Dr. Snow didn’t take it seriously. She delayed taking action. When it was clear there was a serious problem, she finally opened him up again, but by then, it was too late. Ira didn’t survive the second surgery.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

Esther placed the photograph face-down in her lap. ‘I was angry. Bitter. This woman stole our future. The surgery should have been a new beginning for Ira, and instead, it was the end. I admit, I didn’t deal with it well. I said things – I wrote things – that were inappropriate. By July, I’d calmed down. Now I let my lawyer do my talking for me.’

‘You’re suing Dr. Snow?’ Stride asked.

‘Of course. It’s not a question of money. I don’t need money. It’s about justice. It’s about making sure that no one else suffers the way Ira and I did.’ Esther stared at the lake, and then she turned back to Stride. ‘Believe me, I feel bad for Dr. Snow and what happened to her husband. No one should lose a spouse like that. Are you married, Lieutenant?’

‘I am.’

‘And is she the light of your life?’

Stride smiled. ‘She is.’

‘That’s as it should be. Ira and I were very much in love and had been for decades. Long before we had a dime to call our own. Of course, if you believe what you read in the newspaper, Dr. Snow and her husband had a much more troubled relationship. That’s a shame.’

‘Did Dr. Snow talk to you about her marriage?’ Stride asked.

Esther shook her head firmly. ‘Oh, no. Our relationship wasn’t personal. It was strictly professional. To be very candid with you, both Ira and I felt that Dr. Snow was an unusually cold woman. She had no bedside manner. If our goal had been to find someone who had a caring way about them, we certainly would have gone elsewhere. However, we choose surgeons for their hands, not their warm, fuzzy side, don’t we? We believed that she was the best.’

‘When did the surgery take place?’ Stride asked.

‘Last May. I’ve been coming to terms with it ever since. I only recently made the decision to sell this place.’

‘And how did you hear about the death of Dr. Snow’s husband?’

‘The morning news, like everyone else.’

‘Were you in Duluth?’ Stride asked.

Esther allowed herself a small smile. ‘You know, Lieutenant, you don’t need to be coy. You could come right out and ask me if I shot him. But really, do I look like a woman who would be traipsing through the streets of Duluth at night with a gun?’

‘No.’

‘No, and I wasn’t. I wasn’t in Duluth at all. I was in Minneapolis at the Guthrie seeing
Lear
with three friends. They’ll be happy to confirm it. We even have pictures of us together. I learned of the murder on WCCO the next day.’

‘I’ll need the names of your friends,’ Stride said.

‘Yes, of course. Does that resolve your concerns?’

‘Well, you’re obviously a wealthy woman, Mrs. Rose.’

‘True,’ she acknowledged. ‘Is that relevant?’

‘It means you have the resources to hire people to do things for you. Things you might not do yourself.’

‘Are you suggesting I hired a hitman?’ Esther asked. She giggled, genuinely amused. ‘Well, I don’t deny that I could afford it. Or at least I assume I could, since I don’t know the going rate for such things. However, women in my circumstances don’t often come into contact with hired killers. People like that don’t exactly advertise on the bulletin board at temple, do they? And Ira was a trademark attorney, not a mob lawyer. We didn’t hobnob with criminals.’

‘I understand,’ Stride said.

‘You’re welcome to review my finances, if it puts your mind at ease.’

Stride smiled as he stood up. ‘Actually, that would be helpful. Just to cross things off my list.’

‘Consider it done. You can talk to my attorney, and he’ll arrange it for you. He’s here in Duluth. Peter Stanhope.’

‘As in the Stanhope law firm?’

‘Yes, they handle all my affairs. Is there a problem?’

He sat down again and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. ‘I’m sorry. I have to ask, Mrs. Rose, did you ever have any contact with Jay Ferris yourself?’

She shrugged. ‘No, I never met him. I knew who he was, because of his newspaper columns. To be honest, he seemed like rather a vile man. Handsome enough, but without much class. Why?’

‘Jay Ferris contacted someone at the Stanhope firm not long before he was murdered. Do you know anything about that?’

‘Peter never mentioned it to me.’

‘Jay called an attorney named Tamara Fellowes. Do you know her?’

‘I don’t. As I say, I work exclusively with Peter. He owns the firm, and he handles most of my matters personally. Peter is the attorney who is suing Dr. Snow for me.’

*

Stride planned to call Archie Gale when he returned to his City Hall office, but he found that he didn’t need to do so. Gale was already waiting for him in a police conference room. With Janine Snow.

The attorney, looking dapper, hopped to his feet. ‘Ah, Lieutenant, sorry to barge in like this. Your assistant said you were on your way back to the office.’

‘I’m a little surprised to see you here,’ Stride admitted.

Gale cocked his head. ‘Well, Dr. Snow has something she wants to share with you.’

Stride sat down. Janine, on the other side of the table, looked chastened, which wasn’t typical for her. She stared at the table in front of her, not at Stride. Her hands were folded together. A few blond hairs strayed across her face.

‘What did you want to tell me?’ he asked.

She finally looked up, and her blue eyes were vacant. ‘It’s not something I’m proud of. Honestly, if it weren’t for a private detective threatening me with blackmail, I would have kept it to myself.’

Stride frowned. ‘What was this detective’s name?’

‘Melvin Wiley.’

‘And why was he trying to blackmail you?’

‘I was having an affair,’ Janine told him.

Stride said nothing. He looked at Janine and then at Gale. Finally, he said: ‘With whom?’

‘Someone my husband hated,’ she said. ‘And someone you know very well. A former cop named Nathan Skinner.’

12

Maggie parked on ice-covered ground and climbed down from her yellow Avalanche. A freight train clattered under the overpass of Highway 2 thirty yards away. Its cars were streaked with rust and graffiti. She was near a gritty industrial park in Superior, Wisconsin, in a residential neighborhood butting up to the train tracks. The land around her was piled high with plowed gray snow.

She saw the house she wanted to visit on the corner, protected by a soaring arborvitae that was twice the height of the roof. It was a small house, two stories, with vertical wooden siding painted in sea-foam green. A tall fence protected the yard, so she couldn’t see inside. The storm door had bars.

A white Toyota Rav was parked on the side street.

She and Guppo had already talked to more than two dozen Rav owners in the Twin Ports over the past several weeks. The interviews had produced nothing useful. There had been a white Rav parked near the base of the hill leading to Janine Snow’s house on the night of the murder, but they were no closer to discovering who owned it, or whether it had any connection at all to the death of Jay Ferris.

Maggie crossed to the house. The steps on the deck were slick with ice, and she gripped the wobbly railing to keep from falling. She knew her block heels weren’t made for winter, but she didn’t care.

A black man in his late twenties answered the door.

‘Seymour Pugh?’ Maggie asked.

He considered her with coal eyes. ‘What about it?’

‘That’s your Rav on the street, right?’

‘So?’ he asked.

She introduced herself. ‘I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.’

Pugh said nothing, but he stepped outside into the cold. Rule number one, Maggie thought: Never let cops inside your house. She took pride in the fact that she could size up a suspect as guilty or innocent within a few seconds, but Seymour Pugh’s face gave nothing away except calm distrust. That was no surprise, because he’d dealt with the police plenty of times in his life.

He was tall and skinny, wearing baggy red cargo pants and a white tank top stained with spaghetti sauce. He had a wide, flat nose with flaring nostrils and a chin that was fuzzy with long, curling hairs. His cornrows dipped below his ears. He had big hands with long fingers. His left ear sported an earring, and he wore a simple chain with a cross around his neck.

‘What’s this about?’ Pugh asked her.

‘Do you know a man named Jay Ferris?’

‘No.’

She dug in the pocket of her burgundy jacket for a photograph. ‘This is a picture of Mr. Ferris. Do you recognize him?’

‘No.’

‘He was murdered a few weeks ago. He lived in a big house up on the hill in Duluth. He wrote a newspaper column.’

‘Don’t get no paper,’ Pugh replied.

She rattled off the date of Jay’s death. ‘Do you remember what you were doing that night? It was a Friday.’

‘You’re kidding, right? One day’s like every other.’

‘Do you own a gun, Mr. Pugh?’

‘I got kids. No guns in my house. What are you talking to me for, anyway?’

‘You own a white Rav,’ Maggie said. ‘A witness spotted a white Rav not far from the house where the murder took place.’

Pugh chuckled and shook his head. ‘Yeah, how many of them trucks are there around here? Did you run through all the licenses and pick out the black faces?’

‘We picked out the people with criminal records,’ Maggie replied. ‘Jay Ferris was shot, and jewelry was taken from his home. You’ve had a series of convictions in the last decade for burglary and auto theft, Mr. Pugh.’

‘True enough. You see me using a gun in any of them?’

‘No.’

‘No, you didn’t. Nobody got hurt. And fact is, the last time I was inside was three years ago. I’m clean now. I got a job.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I drive a truck. I deliver machine parts all over the Midwest. Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, Nebraska, the Dakotas. Most days I’m hundreds of miles away from here. Hard being away from home, but it’s a living. An honest living. I got a job, a wife, kids. Jesus blessed me.’

‘Good for you.’ Maggie eyed the house, which needed work. ‘Looks like you could use some extra money, though.’

‘Yeah, and if I was breaking into rich people’s houses, I guess I could do better than this, huh?’

‘Sometimes desperate people will do just about anything,’ Maggie said.

Pugh jabbed a finger at her. He’d chewed his nails and cuticles until they were bloody. Maggie spotted movement in the front window and saw a boy’s face peering out with wide eyes. He’d pushed aside the curtain, which looked like a plastic tablecloth. A woman’s arm dragged him away.

‘Look, lady, don’t go throwing my past in my face,’ Pugh snapped. ‘Yeah, I made mistakes. I was a stupid kid. Fact is, when I stole shit, it was to put food on the table, okay? You and me may not have the same values, but don’t go thinking that means I don’t have any values. My family needs something, I make sure they get it, but I don’t steal anymore. We make do on what I earn.’

Maggie nodded. ‘Back to that Friday night,’ she said.

‘I told you, I have no idea where I was or what I was doing. Either I was on the road or I was home with my family. You can call my boss and find out. For me, Friday’s just another day on the calendar.’

‘That was the night of the multi-car crash up on the Bong Bridge. It was closed for hours. Does that help?’

‘I don’t pay attention to traffic unless I’m in it. Now, are we done?’

‘We’re done. Thanks for your time.’

Seymour Pugh retreated inside the house. Maggie heard the sound of his voice change and heard him greet his kids with the excited shout of a father. It made her smile.

She returned across the street to her Avalanche and got inside. As she headed back toward the bridge, she passed the white Rav on the street again, and she realized that this end of the investigation wasn’t going anywhere. Most cases had dead ends you had to follow. The car on the street near Janine’s house was one of those stray facts that got in the way of finding the truth.

Seymour Pugh was a white Rav owner with a criminal record, and unless he was driving a truck between here and Milwaukee that night, he had no alibi. Even so, he had no history of resorting to violence or using a gun in any of his crimes. He didn’t trust a cop showing up at his door, but she couldn’t blame him for that.

More than anything else, Maggie realized she liked him.

*

‘Nathan Skinner?’ Stride asked.

He saw a flush in Janine’s face as she nodded. She’d said she was embarrassed, but he also thought there was sexual arousal in her expression. Cindy had told him on more than one occasion that a man who could melt through the ice cap of Janine Snow would find a volcano underneath.

He didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he assessed her credibility. And Archie Gale’s. Nothing came free with Gale. Nothing was given up to the police or the prosecutors without an upside for him. If Janine was freely willing to confess to an affair, there had to be a strategy behind it. Either Gale wanted credit for providing information that the police would have discovered anyway – or he wanted to cloud the facts by handing them a shiny new suspect in Jay’s murder.

Nathan Skinner.

‘You were sleeping with a man who lost his job because of your husband?’ Stride said.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, tell me how this affair came about.’

Janine regained some of her composure and arrogance. Her blue eyes met his. She moistened her lips and brushed the loose hair from her face. ‘Nathan was working overnight security at St. Anne’s last May. I often work late, and we got to know each other.’

‘You knew who he was?’

‘Yes, of course I did.’

‘And yet you engaged with him anyway,’ Stride said.

‘He approached me, not the other way around. This isn’t hard to figure out, Lieutenant. Nathan’s motives were transparent. He sought a friendship with me, because – how should I phrase this? – he was interested in screwing me as a way to get back at Jay for screwing him.’

‘I understand his motives. It’s yours I’m struggling with.’

‘Is it a blindness of handsome men that they don’t recognize it in others? You’re very attractive yourself, Lieutenant, which you obviously know. I’ve said as much to Cindy. Nathan Skinner is an extremely attractive man, too. So yes, I allowed him to seduce me.’

‘Getting into a relationship with Nathan Skinner sounds a lot more complicated than you’re letting on,’ Stride said.

Janine shrugged. ‘Last May was a difficult time for me. Jay and I were struggling. I was in severe pain much of the time because I’d broken my ankle over the winter. So to be honest, Nathan’s attentions were flattering. That was exactly what I needed at the time.’

‘Is the affair still going on?’

‘No, I broke it off in December.’

‘Why?’

Janine hesitated. ‘Jay confronted me about it. He knew. I didn’t realize he’d hired a private detective, but the fact is, these things have a way of coming out. It was just a matter of time.’

‘What was Jay’s reaction?’

‘He was upset, of course. He wanted me to break it off with Nathan, and I agreed to do so. Frankly, the affair was becoming uncomfortable for me anyway. Nathan had developed an emotional attraction. He was falling in love. For me, it was just sex. He wanted more.’

Stride listened to the monotone in her voice and didn’t like it. ‘You make this confrontation sound pretty bloodless, Dr. Snow. I find that hard to believe. I would have expected a much more volatile argument with your husband over something like this. Particularly given what he thought about Nathan Skinner.’

‘I think Jay was saving his anger for Nathan,’ Janine replied.

Stride heard the emphasis in her voice. ‘You think Jay confronted Nathan about the affair?’

‘I have no idea, but Jay didn’t take humiliations lightly.’

It was a convenient story. Impossible to prove. Easy to deny. It laid the groundwork for an explosive fight between two men who already hated each other. Jay found out about the affair. Nathan was in love with Janine and didn’t want to let her go. Situations like that had a way of ending with a man dead on the floor.

‘You said that you and Jay were struggling in your relationship,’ Stride reminded her. ‘Did you want a divorce?’

‘I don’t think that topic is part of this conversation
—
’ Gale began, but Janine reached over and put a hand on her attorney’s sleeve.

‘It’s all right, Archie. What’s the point in denying it? Yes, Jonathan, I wanted a divorce. Jay and I were a mistake from the beginning. It hurts to say that now, but it’s true. When we met, there was this electricity between us. I’ll be the first to acknowledge it was extremely physical. We got swept up in each other, and we got married before we came off the high. But we fell far and fast. The things that attracted us became the things we hated about each other. Jay was a person who wore his emotions on his sleeve. I’m not. He became more and more desperate to draw me out, to get a reaction.’

‘Sleeping with Nathan Skinner sounds like a reaction,’ Stride said.

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘You also cut off Jay’s credit cards without telling him last July. That sounds like a reaction, too.’

‘Okay, yes, I was being a bitch.’

‘You turned the money back on not long after. Why?’

‘I decided it was childish. We were playing tit-for-tat games. That wasn’t a way to solve our problems. The way to resolve it was to end our relationship.’ She added quickly: ‘By divorce.’

‘Jay’s brother Clyde says Jay didn’t want a divorce.’

‘Originally, yes, that’s true,’ Janine acknowledged. ‘Jay enjoyed playing the game. Frankly, I think he liked making me miserable. But eventually, he got tired of all the fighting. He wanted out, too.’

‘If the two of you divorced, Jay would have gotten nothing. Wasn’t it in his interest to stay married to you?’

Janine shook her head firmly. ‘Prenup or not, we would have come to a financial arrangement. I wasn’t trying to starve him, Lieutenant. I bought him a new Hummer when he lost his truck on the ice. We both wanted an amicable end.’

‘You’re saying Jay was willing to grant you a divorce. Despite what Clyde told me.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Janine insisted. ‘He consulted a divorce attorney. A woman named Tamara Fellowes.’

‘We know about his call to Ms. Fellowes. She wouldn’t tell us what she and Jay discussed, which I’m sure you know.’

‘Well, I’m telling you myself. Jay wanted to talk about divorce.’

‘Ms. Fellowes practices with the Stanhope law firm. They’re suing you, aren’t they, over the death of one of your patients? Ira Rose.’

‘Yes, that’s true. So?’

‘It’s an interesting coincidence,’ Stride said.

‘Not really. Jay and Tamara were college classmates.’

‘What’s the status of Mrs. Rose’s lawsuit against you?’ Stride asked.

Janine shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I have my own attorneys who handle those things. I felt awful about what happened to Ira Rose. Unfortunately, cardiac surgery is inherently risky. It’s become so commonplace that patients don’t always think through the seriousness of it. Much as I would like to guarantee a positive outcome every time, I’m just a human being, not a god. I don’t resent Esther for suing. It comes with the territory. Lawsuits are an unfortunate reality of the medical profession these days. My insurer will settle, and all of our health premiums will go up. That’s life without tort reform.’

Stride stared at this woman and tried to understand her. She was smart. Calm. Beautiful. Sexual. She had an answer for everything. That was what bothered him. Murder was messy, and yet she could explain away all of the questions as if they didn’t matter at all.

He didn’t believe her. Not for a minute.

‘Let’s talk about guns,’ Stride said.

‘Excuse me?’ She didn’t expect him to say that. Archie Gale leaned forward, looking concerned.

‘Guns,’ Stride said. ‘You said Jay didn’t own a gun.’

‘That’s right.’

He dug in a folder and pulled out a copy of the photograph that Clyde Ferris had given him. ‘Except here’s a photograph of Jay with a gun, Dr. Snow. The photo was taken just a few months ago.’