Walleye Junction (20 page)

Charlotte pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a band that had been looped around her wrist. There was a pack of cigarettes on the table. She took one out and lit it with difficulty. She didn't look like someone who smoked regularly. Macy decided it was better to get right to the sharp end of the conversation.

“When did you first learn about your husband's affair with Carla Spencer?”

“This isn't easy to talk about.”

“It never is, but the sooner you talk the sooner you're free to go.”

Charlotte looked down at the table.

“I hadn't been feeling well for a while. I was scared. Cancer runs in my family, so naturally I went to see my doctor.” Charlotte laughed nervously. “It turns out I'd contracted hepatitis C.”

“And you're sure it was from your husband?”

“It's the only thing that made sense. I hired a private investigator. He sent me some photos of my husband and Carla Spencer in various stages of undress. You're welcome to see them.”

“Did you confront him?”

Charlotte stubbed out the cigarette without smoking it. “I was in the process of filing for divorce, so I was advised to keep what I knew to myself for the time being.”

“When you spoke to Chief Marsh earlier you said that your husband was out of the house on the night of Philip Long's murder. Are you absolutely sure that is correct?”

Charlotte barely nodded.

“Were there any other unexplained absences over the past couple of weeks?”

“He'd go out sometimes and not come back until late. It wasn't unusual. If you need the dates and times I have them.… Now that I know the truth about what's been going on behind my back, I've been keeping a diary.”

Macy scribbled a few notes. “Did your private investigator discover anything else about your husband that could be of interest to us?”

Charlotte tried to slide another cigarette out of the pack, but her hands were shaking too much. She crushed the box in her fist and threw it aside.

“There were other women. With the exception of Carla they were all quite young.” Charlotte breathed deeply. “It's really fucked with my confidence. I'm forty-four this year. I can't compete with an eighteen-year-old.”

“You shouldn't have to.”

“But it seems that's precisely what I've been doing for the past few years.” She pressed a tissue to her eyes. “I'll send you the file.”

“I'm sorry,” said Macy. “This must be awful. I really appreciate your cooperation.”

Charlotte gazed out across green rolling hills and pine forests. Beyond the trees, the Flathead River flowed slow and wide.

“You'd think that all this would have been enough for anyone,” said Charlotte.

“How long have you been married?”

“Sixteen years in August. I don't know how I'm going to tell the children.”

“You're stronger than you realize. You'll find a way.”

“Aiden said you were nice. That I should be nice to you.” Her eyes fell on Macy again. “Sorry about earlier. I'm not usually such a bitch.”

“Under the circumstances I wouldn't think too highly of other women either.”

“Other women aren't really the problem though, are they? Bob had lost respect for our marriage. Once that happened we really didn't stand a chance. Anyway, it's done and I don't want to talk about
those
women anymore.”

Macy handed Charlotte a packet of tissues she had in her bag.

“I need to ask you about a fire pit that's down near the river. Do you recall seeing anyone burning trash there recently? The ranch foreman says it's not been used since last fall.”

Charlotte yanked her hair out of its band and twisted the elastic loop in her fingers. “I walk the dogs down there sometimes, but I can't say I've noticed anything unusual.”

“Has there been any change in your husband's behavior over the past few weeks?”

“We've been fighting a lot, but that's been coming from me, not him. He seems his usual gregarious self. It almost made me feel guilty about the bomb I was about to drop in his lap.”

“We're having some difficulty understanding why your husband would have been involved in Philip Long's kidnapping. Have there been any problems with your finances?”

“My lawyer hired a forensic accountant to go through everything. I've been assured that our finances are in good order.”

“Do you know if your husband has had any professional or personal dealings with Philip Long?”

Charlotte shook her head. “We listened to his radio program sometimes, but as far as I know Bob has never met him.” She paused. “What happens now?”

“Your husband lied to us about where he was on the night of the murder. Unless he comes up with an explanation for his whereabouts he will remain in custody. There are several motorbikes in the garage. A couple of them are specifically for riding off road. How often does your husband use them?”

“He and my eldest son go out sometimes. I can't say I approve. As a family we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in emergency rooms.”

“Where are your children now?”

Charlotte glanced at her watch. “They're at school. I'd appreciate it if you were done by the time they get home.”

“We'll do our best, but it might be a good idea to delay their return for as long as possible.”

“Am I free to go? I'd like to go pick them up. I could take them out somewhere for dinner.”

“That would probably be a good idea, but before you go I'd like you to send me the information your private detective gathered on your husband. It will be interesting to see if any of the other women are connected to the case.”

*   *   *

Aiden and Macy walked along a trail that cut across the low hills on the western side of the Crawley's property. Clouds moved across the sky at dizzying speeds. At the moment the sun was shining through and it was the warmest it had been since Macy had arrived in the Flathead Valley, but the distant horizons told another story. A storm was coming. Before the path dipped down to a dense stand of pine trees that bordered the river, Macy turned and gazed back up at the house. She couldn't imagine how someone could get bored with the view.

“If someone burned that bike gear down here I think the smoke from a fire would have been seen up at the house,” said Macy.

“Crawley could have done it at night. It might explain why he left the job unfinished.”

“He's not a seasoned criminal so there's lots of scope to screw things up. I noticed you were speaking to his wife, Charlotte. You've socialized with the Crawley family so you must have some insight. What's your take on the wife? Is she angry enough to land her husband in it?”

“You think she might be lying about him not being here?” asked Aiden.

“Considering how he's behaved, she has every right to be angry. She's been meeting with lawyers, forensic accountants, and private detectives. She already knows she can screw him financially. Getting sole custody of the kids would be an added bonus.”

“You have a point, but I don't see Charlotte doing something like that. She's a good person. Besides, someone has tried to destroy evidence. He has no alibi so there's every reason to think it was Bob.”

The ground beneath the trees was thickly carpeted with pine needles. Crime scene tape wound through the woods, blocking off a clearing of about thirty square yards. In the center thick logs that had been split lengthwise served as seating for a fire pit. The far side of the clearing opened up onto the shores of the Flathead River.

Macy dipped under the crime scene tape and stood next to the empty fire pit. The contents had already been collected and bagged as evidence. At the sound of voices she turned toward the river. A boat drifted downstream. Two men sat holding fishing rods while another one steered the boat. One of the men shouted hello and Macy waved back.

“You were right,” said Macy. “Anyone could access the property from this stretch of river.”

“It's illegal to come ashore, but I doubt that would have been a deterrent if someone was trying to set Bob Crawley up.” Aiden pointed upstream. “There's a public boat launch about two miles from here.”

“How far downstream do you have to go before you can access the river again?”

“It's about four miles. During the high season a bus runs between the two sites.”

“It would have been risky,” said Macy. “The beach is visible from the river. They may have been spotted setting the fire.”

“Not necessarily. It's still a little early in the season for fishing and people really don't use this stretch of river for float trips until late June. I think there was greater risk of being discovered by someone coming down from the house.”

Macy took a moment to think. “They could have burned the gear somewhere else and deposited the remnants in the pit. On and off the boat in a matter of seconds,” she said.

Aiden walked out to the water's edge and picked up a stone. “I realize this is all theoretical at this point, but if Crawley is innocent, who do you suppose he's covering for?”

“Charlotte Crawley hired a private detective to keep an eye on Bob. She just sent me the list of women Crawley was sleeping with.” Macy scrolled through the e-mail message. “I see five names, including Carla Spencer's. It might be that he couldn't bring himself to admit to being with one of them. Providing a proper alibi for the night of Philip's murder would have saved his family a lot of grief. If he is innocent, it's hard to believe that he didn't have the foresight to realize this.”

Aiden skipped a flat stone across the river's surface. “Considering your history with Ray, I'm surprised this kind of behavior surprises you.”

“I seem to have a blind spot.”

“Open your eyes, Macy. Men are assholes.”

She made a face. “Aiden, are you trying to tell me something?”

He threw another stone. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean by maybe?”

Aiden brushed his hands clean on his trousers and turned to face her.

“I guess I want to know how serious I should be taking us.”

“I'm not sure,” said Macy.

“I think it's time you made up your mind.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don't like having to hide that we're together. It makes it feel more like an affair than a relationship. Sometimes I think you'd rather people didn't know because you're not sure if it's something you really want.”

“It's been a difficult year. I thought you understood.”

“I thought I did too,” said Aiden. “But you're going to be back in Helena soon. Lately, it seems like it's a little of something or all of nothing.”

“I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know you felt this way.” She tilted her face up to the sky. It had gone from blue to black in a matter of minutes. “Are you free this evening? We could talk.”

“Sort of depends on Bob Crawley. We really should go question him again.” He stood next to her. “Sorry to bring up personal stuff at work.”

“It's okay. There's nobody down here but us.”

“Truth is, I don't know how this thing between us can ever work. I'm tied to my job here and you've got your mom and Luke back in Helena. Neither of us are the type of person who would walk away from something this good, but there has to be some promise of a future. I feel like I'm treading water when I'm with you.”

Macy put her palm flat to his chest. She often felt as if she was barely staying afloat. She had no idea he was feeling the same way.

“Aiden,” she said. “I feel like this is my fault. I'm coming out of a situation that was never normal. I think I've forgotten how to do this.”

“It's not just you. I'm not sure what I want either. I just think that this rarified air we're living in isn't good for us.”

“We'll talk tonight. I promise.”

The shadows beneath the trees had deepened. Gusts of wind shook the upper branches. The river seemed to swell in the dying light. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“It's going to rain soon,” said Aiden. “We'd better get going.”

“Give me another minute. I feel like we should have a better look around the perimeter.”

Macy pulled a small flashlight from her bag and took one last walk around the clearing. She pointed toward some trees a dozen feet farther along the shoreline. The light had caught on something reflective.

“Do you see that?” she said.

“It looks like a children's fort.”

Built from sawn-off branches of pine trees held together by silver duct tape, the small lean-to was barely visible in the dense undergrowth.

“Crawley's kids must have built it.”

Macy pulled away a couple of branches and peeked inside. A blond-haired doll was wrapped up in a baby blanket. She picked it up and inspected it carefully.

“This doll must belong to one of the kids.”

“Three boys and one girl,” said Aiden. “I think it's safe to assume it's Annabel's.”

There was an empty yogurt container on the ground.

“Look at the expiration date,” said Macy, holding it up to the flashlight's beam. “Annabel was here recently.”

“It doesn't mean she saw anything.”

“The fort is less than thirty feet from the fire pit. We need to talk to her.”

Macy slipped everything into a plastic evidence bag.

Aiden frowned. “Do you actually think that doll is evidence?”

“No, but if it's someone's favorite doll I don't want it to get wet.”

The tall grass whipped at their legs as they climbed the path from the river basin up to the house. To the north, lightning threaded through the dark sky.

Macy had to yell to be heard above the driving wind.

“It's hard to believe the sun was shining a few minutes ago,” she said.