The Killing Game (22 page)

“Ah. You met with—”

“Mimi Quade. About six months along maybe?” she added brightly.

“I think I’ll take some of that red wine, too.” Then, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Andi walked toward the kitchen. “It was just kind of hard, seeing her.”

“I can imagine.”

“What did Peg Bellows have to say?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject again as she pulled a bottle of Cabernet from her tiny, black wrought-iron wine rack.

“Well, there’s no love lost over the Carreras there anymore.”

Andi opened a drawer and took out the corkscrew, but her mind was stuck on the image of Mimi’s baby bump. It was like she couldn’t see anything else all of a sudden. She sensed herself sinking into despair and was surprised that it had come up on her so fast when she’d thought she was past it.

Luke went on, “The brothers worked both Peg and Ted, coming off as friends, benign investors who would buy their house for a maximum price. They’d done the same thing with the Bellows’s neighbors. A little different scenario, but all with the same goal.”

Andi stood perfectly still. Loss had her in its tight embrace, squeezing the breath from her. Unaware, Luke said, “It’s the same tale I hear whenever the Carreras are involved.”

She tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. Her nose burned and she sensed tears building. She clutched the corkscrew with a death grip.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming nearer until he was right beside her as she faced the counter. “Something happen?”

She shook her head.

“Here, let me do that.” He took the opener from her now unresisting hand. Tears filled her eyes. She was embarrassed, but there was nothing she could do. Luke shot concerned looks at her as he uncorked the bottle. To her consternation, he reached forward and caught a tear with the tip of his finger. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, and that opened the floodgates.

“I’m fine.” Her voice shook.

“I know.” He reached forward and folded her into the strength of his arms. She could smell the earthy, masculine scent of him and she wanted to cuddle into him and weep. Instead she stood like a stiff rod and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stem the flow. “I don’t want to cry.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t do any good and it makes you look like hell.” She choked out a miserable little laugh.

“I don’t think you could ever look like hell.”

“Don’t be nice to me.”

He tightened his grip. “Okay, I’ll treat you bad.”

That made her laugh for real and she pulled back, but his arms wouldn’t completely release her. “I’m so sorry,” she said shakily. “I’m fine. Really I am. It just came over me.”

“It’s okay.”

“I want to hear more about what Peg said. I really do.”

He hesitated a moment, then admitted, “She said she wants to see Blake Carrera dead.”

“Dead?” Andi swiped at her tears, turned away from his scrutiny, and he finally, somewhat reluctantly, released her.

“They had an affair. It ended badly, and Ted died.”

“I thought it was Brian on the boat with him.”

“It was, but where there’s one Carrera brother, there’s another. You sure you’re okay?”

“No, but I’m trying. Okay?”

He nodded and she managed a thin smile before opening an upper cupboard and pulling out two crystal stemmed wineglasses.

“That’s a little fancy for me,” Luke said. “I could break that. How about a small tumbler?”

“No. Sorry. If you break it, you break it. But I need a little bit of... ceremony and beauty.”

“Like that, huh?”

“Yes, like that,” she said, pouring them each a glass. The red liquid shone like blood under the lights. “You want to walk out to the lake?” she asked.

“Sure.”

They carried their wineglasses as Andi led the way out the back door. The rain had ceased and the afternoon was easing into a soft evening, with the smell of damp earth rising upward. A capricious breeze teased the willow branches. Luke picked up a denuded branch and curved it into a circle. “Art Kessler still doing your yard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I like Art.”

“Good.”

“What else did Peg say?”

“She said after the Carreras cultivated a friendship with them, they began to pressure them to sell, slowly at first but then with more push. The brothers had a vision for the south end of the lake, and the Bellows’s cabin was the linchpin of their plan. If the Bellowses sold, then other property owners would fall like dominoes, and the Carreras would control the south end of the lake.”

“Greg worried about that,” she murmured.

“With good reason. The Carreras have bought and sold tons of property all over the Northwest, but it sounds like they were really on this one. Meanwhile, your family was doing the same thing on the north end.”

“We weren’t pressuring homeowners. Mr. Allencore sold us his ten cabins before he died, and the junior camp was something Greg worked on for a long time.”

“The lodge was approved. Peg said the Carreras were undone about that. That’s the word she used. Undone.”

“You think that’s why they gave me the bird message? To scare me off?”

“Yeah, but why just you? Why didn’t Emma get one, or even Carter? I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

“Did Peg say anything else?”

“Just that the Carreras thought they could beat you to the punch and control more properties because they had connections within the county. They’re planning on stopping the lodge any way they can.”

“It’s too late. Carter has connections, too. And Greg had connections.”

“Yeah, I think the brothers made a mistake there. They thought they could gum up the lodge works through the county, but whoever’s in their pocket wasn’t able to stop your construction.”

“I don’t get why it’s such a fight. The lake’s big.”

“I keep telling you: the Carreras don’t like to share.”

“What is that?” Andi asked, gesturing to the ring Luke had made out of the willow branch.

“Art. Can’t you tell?” He grinned.

Andi gazed at him in amusement. It was way too easy being with him. “I’m embarrassed about falling apart.”

“Forget about it.”

“I’ll try.” She took a couple of steps closer to the broken-down dock that had once afforded access to the water. “Carter keeps meeting with different people in the county.”

“Then maybe he’s the one who foiled the Carreras’ plans. After Ted Bellows’s death, the tide turned away from them politically. The county balked on issuing them building permits. The homeowners stopped trusting them. A few of the Bellows’s neighbors did sell, but most held firm, although one of them told me the Carreras had upped their offer to a price that was hard to resist.”

“Recently? So, there is some action with them?” Andi had hoped they’d closed up shop and moved away from Schultz Lake, even though she knew that was unlikely.

“The owner didn’t say when, but he admitted he didn’t sell out of respect to Ted and Peg.”

“Which means it’s probably only a matter of time.”

Luke took a swallow from the crystal wineglass. Andi focused on his hands, thinking how strong they looked. “Does Peg want Brian dead, too?”

“Maybe.” He started to say something, thought about it, shook his head. Finally he said, “She’s been gone because she’s been having cancer treatment. Chemo. Radiation. She’s been living with her sister.”

“Oh no.”

“The cancer recurred after Ted’s death and she’s living with a lot of guilt and regret.” He shook his head. “She probably wants ’em both dead.”

Just as Luke finished his glass of wine the rain returned in a soft drizzle. They walked back to the cabin together. “I’d better go,” Luke said. “I’ll let you know if and when I learn something more about the brothers.”

“Okay.”

He handed her the willow ring and they both smiled. Then she walked him to the door.

“Keep in touch,” she said lightly, feeling like having him on retainer was more of an indulgence than a need. But it was her money to spend.

“Will do,” he answered, then he ducked his head against the rain as he headed for his truck.

Chapter Fourteen

Friday morning Gretchen, full of nervous energy, swiveled back and forth in her desk chair. She’d been waiting for Wes to come into the squad room, but so far he was MIA. They’d finished their reporting on the homicide stabbing, and Lieutenant D’Annibal had suggested they work with their original partners again. Cutbacks were still a worry, and D’Annibal had called George into his office and drawn the blinds on the glass wall that separated it from the squad room. Whatever was said between them, George had come out looking grim. Though he was currently seated at his desk, his eyes on his computer screen, he hadn’t been interested in joking around.

September tried not to let the thought of the cutbacks gnaw at her guts. She was the most recent hire and the youngest detective. Her brother had moved semiperma-nently to the Portland PD, and it had looked like he might be coming back to the Laurelton PD, but now things had changed. Money was tight all over, but Portland had both larger staff needs and more fluid job opportunities. Laurelton was a lot smaller, and people who took jobs with the police department had a tendency to stick around.

September glanced over at the back of George’s head. She liked him. She didn’t want him to lose his job. But if it came to a showdown between them about who was the more industrious employee, she would win hands down. However, should the issue turn on office politics, she really didn’t know which way the dominoes would fall. George had friends in odd places.

“So where are we with the Aurora Lane crowd?” Gretchen asked.

September had tried to tell her about her meeting with Grace Myles two days earlier, but she had listened with only half an ear. Now, however, she was paying attention. George’s heart-to-heart with D’Annibal had raised antennae all around the squad room.

With an effort, September forwent making a smart remark about Gretchen’s lack of interest to date and answered, “I’ve interviewed every current homeowner and called the numbers I have for previous owners. Nobody seems to know anything. I’m just updating my report.”

“The other day you were hot for whatever the Alzheimer’s victim had to say,” Gretchen said.

“You actually heard what I was talking about? I couldn’t tell.”

Gretchen pretended to stifle a yawn. “So what did Grace Myles say?”

“She intimated that Nathan Singleton’s wife, Davinia, was having an affair with someone younger than she was. I was thinking about asking Tynan about it. Maybe this could be our vic.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Or maybe not,” September agreed. “Maybe the affair’s the reason Nathan drove off the road and killed them both. Tynan didn’t go into that when we interviewed him, but there’s a reason the man did what he did.”

“That means Davinia was having an affair with an eighteen-year-old.”

“Maybe younger,” September said. “Davinia died thirteen years ago and forensics has determined the eighteen-year-old male would be about thirty now, if he’d lived. So he died twelve years ago, and Davinia’s been gone thirteen.”

“Meaning Mr. Bones could have been seventeen.”

“Like you said, he might not even be the lover. If there was a lover. All speculation.”

“We don’t even know if it’s a murder,” Gretchen pointed out.

September nodded. This was why Gretchen wasn’t all that interested in the case. Mystery bones in the basement were weird, but not weird enough to intrigue her unless there was foul play involved. In this case, the cause of death had been indeterminable.

“I’d sure like to know why someone buried the body and then dug it up again and put the bones in the Singletons’ basement.”

“No DNA from the bones.”

September shook her head. “Not that the crime lab has been able to recover.”

“You said Grace mentioned a name, but that you thought he was too young.”

She was slightly surprised Gretchen remembered. “Tommy. Grace said Tommy used to mow lawns. She acted like she was a kid, but it’s hard to know what time frame she was thinking of. Any way around it, Grace’s account could be terribly flawed.”

“Bound to be,” her partner agreed.

“I called Mr. Bromward and left a message on his phone, asking if he remembered Tommy. He’s hasn’t called me back, so I’m thinking about just stopping in. He’s one of the few not sick of answering questions.”

“The guy with the cats.”

“The guy with the cats who’s really hard of hearing,” September added. “Probably why he doesn’t answer his phone.”

Gretchen grunted an assent. “Maybe Tommy mowed his lawn, too.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“What about the Asian neighbors?”

“The Lius’ daughter, Anna, has become less and less interested in helping. She’s tired of interpreting. Says her parents don’t know anything. Pretty much everyone I’ve interviewed is fed up with my questions.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Gretchen said, setting her jaw.

As glad as September was to have her partner back on the case, she knew Gretchen’s take-no-prisoners approach could backfire. It had before. “I’ve also got a call into Elias Mamet. His house is the rental two doors down from the Singletons’. He’s been promising me a full list of his renters over the last twenty years, but he hasn’t come through.”

“Give me the number.”

“I will. But . . .”

“What?”

“Try not to piss him off. He’s brusque and impatient and I’ve worked hard to get him on my side.”

“You don’t think I have the finesse to deal with him?”

September looked into Gretchen’s blue cat’s eyes and answered truthfully. “No, I don’t.”

“Then I won’t threaten him with jail if he doesn’t produce the list by Monday.”

“Good idea,” September replied dryly. “I mentioned Tommy to him and he didn’t remember him, but . . .” She flipped through her notebook. “He said I should talk to the Hasseldorns, who moved away about ten years ago. Randall Hasseldorn’s retired, but his wife, Kitsy, is a real estate agent with Sirocco Realty. Mamet acted like Kitsy knew all.”

“Great. Let’s start with her,” Gretchen said.