Lasting Doubts (The Red Lake Series Book 2) Page 15

  “A Blue Moon, 2ounces of gin and half an ounce of Blue Curacao liqueur, stirred with ice and strained into a cocktail glass. It is made from the peel of the Laraha citrus fruit.”

  She pressed a lemon peel down on the rim of Harry’s glass.

  Harry sipped it and didn't find it offensive, but he liked gin and vermouth better.

  “Actually, I don’t. But it doesn’t make sense that he did. Schmidt wanted to get out of town and the money was his ticket. In that Alison intended to strip, it is reasonable she stashed the money in her suitcase. In that Schmidt had access to the suitcase, why kill her? The only way she could know the money was gone would be to have the suitcase, which we know she never come back for.”

  Barton sipped his drink. “A Blue Moon, huh?”

  “So where did she get the money?” Paula continued.

  “That is the $10,000 dollar question.”

  Harry wiped at his face, sweat oozed from his body at the slightest effort. He turned on a fan.

  “Learn anything else while we were gone, babe?”

  “I dug out the records on Amber Wood. Also, I forgot to tell you, Sheriff Gaines is eager to talk to you. He said to come in as soon as you got back.”

  “I'll see him tomorrow. I don’t want to drink and drive.”

  “You’re just tired of business,” Barton said.

  Harry nodded, he downed his drink and went to the kitchen for a beer.

  Chicken sizzled on the grill. Harry basted the breasts with barbeque sauce and tried to stay back from the extra heat. Paula tossed a salad. Barton was left to set the table.

  Slowly, the sun settled itself behind the Lazarus Mountains, and the sky shifted from blue to soft pastels. Without direct sunlight the intensity of the heat abated.

  Paula lit a couple dozen candles that covered the deck with a warm glow. By the time they sat down to eat, the first stars appeared in the night sky. They chatted and caught up. They drank and shared big and small thoughts, enjoying each other's company. When dinner was over, Paula brought out an apple pie and ice cream. She cut while Harry scooped vanilla ice cream.

  A set of headlights cut down the drive. An engine stopped, followed by a slamming door. Then footsteps sounded on the gravel path. Sheriff Gaines came around the corner.

  Paula noticed Barton relax, never having realized when the tension went in.

  “Evening, Sheriff,” said Harry, rising. “Is this business or pleasure?”

  “Unofficial business.”

  “Can I offer you a slice of pie to keep it sociable?”

  “Never said no to pie.” Gaines set his hat on the sideboard and settled into a chair, shifting around until his gun belt hung clear.

  “Coffee?” Paula held out the pot.

  Gaines nodded affirmatively. She poured. Gaines stirred in a little cream; Harry and Barton took theirs black.

  “What do you have on the Albright case?”

  “What do you want to know, Sheriff?”

  “Anything Harry. Pat Egan can’t get any traction on it. Everyone has amnesia when he shows up. We don’t even have a complete list of who was at that graduation party. Nobody would talk twenty years ago and unlike wine, nothing about this case has gotten better with age.”

  Harry silently considered Gaines’ request. He saw no percentage in shutting the man out and trouble if he did.

  “I’m not sure the party has anything to do with it except to obfuscate what happened.”

  “How so?” Gaines asked. His cup paused near his lip.

  “Alison Albright was an amoral sociopath, perhaps a nymphomaniac. And I have no doubt she would test well as a narcissistic personality, a type that is self obsessed, lacks empathy, worries about having the best, takes criticism poorly and is focused upon their own fantasies and goals.”

  “Have you been reading the DSM-V, Harry?”

  “The what?” asked Paula.

  “The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. I’ve taken a few mental health assessments along the way.” Gaines shifted in his chair. He let his eyes drift across to Dirk, was almost as edgy. Harry talked to ease the unspoken tension.

  “Twenty years ago a group of kids broke into a house for a graduation party. During the party Alison showed up with a friend. As the price of admission, she did a strip tease. Most everyone seems to have been stoned, drunk, and very horny.

  “Alison offered to take on all comers, something the drunken grads found hard to refuse. The police showed up around one in the morning, and everyone split. Nobody will admit to seeing Alison after that.”

  “Who was there?” Gaines asked trying to make it sound less like a command.

  “Wait on that for a bit. There is more about Alison. We know she planned to leave town, that was no secret, but prior to the party, two things happened, she had $10,000 in cash, and she checked her suitcase at the bus station.”

  “How do you know that?” Gaines asked incredulously.

  “I talked to the kid who checked it.”

  “You mean that boy who worked around the station? He never said a word about checking the bag!” Gaines sounded offended.

  “That’s because people lie, and secondly he stole the money from her suitcase. That was his ticket out of Red Lake.”

  Gaines shook his head sadly. “You know Harry, Pat Egan is a decent detective, and he hasn’t turned over any of this. How do you do it?”

  “Hard work and persuasion Sheriff.”

  Gaines glanced at Dirk. “Yeah, I suppose you have more options than Egan does.”

  “Here’s the thing. Alison tried to extort money from every guy she screwed at the party, but never collected. The party was Friday into early Saturday morning, and her extortion letters arrived on Monday. She couldn’t have posted them Friday during the day or they might have made Saturday delivery and I think that would be premature for her plans. I figure she wanted to be far away before she began to collect.”

  Gaines stroked his mustache. “What did she have to blackmail them about? After all, it it were drugs or the break-in, she would be implicated in both.”

  “Sex! Most of the guys were eighteen; she was only sixteen and she led the m to believe she was fifteen. They were going to be her meal ticket wherever she settled down. The blackmail was the real reason nobody would talk.”

  “Damn, Harry! I almost wish you worked for me, but I couldn’t stand the aggravation.” Gaines sipped his coffee before asking, “So, who killed her?”

  “I don’t know, but everybody seems to have a reason to suspect why somebody else did it. That iss the other reason no one will speak up.”

  “You mean like Herb Lanski who realized she was wearing Danby’s jacket?” Paula asked.

  “Yeah, and Homer Benson else got her bra and panties, and another guy had her charm bracelet. And Anders Schmidt saw scratches on his buddy’s face.”

  “Who was scratched?”

  “Dave Barnes.”

  “That’s great!” Gaines muttered with exasperation. “Why couldn’t it be someone who is broke? Barnes will lawyer up and we won’t get near him. Have you talked to him, yet?”

  “Once, but not about the scratches.”

  “Then don’t, at least not before I get to him.”

  “I’d like to go along.” Harry said.

  Gaines paused, tempted to say no, but changed his mind. “Okay, but you’re just along for the ride, understood?”

  “Sure.”

  Paula went in the house and came out with beers. She passed them around. Gaines shrugged and took one. “Guess I am done for the day. We can look at Barnes tomorrow.”

  “That needs doing, but I’m not sure I have been looking the right direction, Sheriff.”

  “As opposed to where Harry?”

  “For a while I thought it might have something to do with drugs.”

  “Is that what your visit to Jimmy Verro was about?”

  “Word gets around.”

  Gaines smiled. “I keep my ear t
o the ground.”

  “Verro was dealing in '92 but he was definite, Alison was only a small-time user. He said if she was dealing he would have heard the scuttlebutt.”

  “So where’s that leave you?”

  “Looking for someone who gave her the money or someone who thought they had better shut her up.'”

  “Could be the same person. Pay her off, then kill her later and take your money back.”

  “Or it may be two people. But I’m finding it tough to see a teenager doing it out of fear. How worried would you be about a sixteen year old saying you had sex with her?”

  “Today it might tick off my wife. Of course at my age nobody would believe it. But at eighteen? Not much.”

  “Exactly,” said Harry, “It seems unlikely a teenager would kill her over an extortion threat.”

  “So, if she was that promiscuous, someone older might have found it hard to say no,” Gaines added.

  “I think the answer to Alison’s killer lies in the Watergate solution.”

  Gaines smiled, “Follow the source of the money?”

  “Bingo!”

  ”Any ideas?”

  “Possibly. Ray Holland was the Episcopal minister in town in 1992. Alison tried shaking down Doreen Corbett for a payoff. She claimed Holland molested her.”

  “Why should she care?”

  “Holland and Corbett were married at the time.”

  “Hmm.” Gaines said distractedly, “I don’t remember that. I haven’t seen Doreen much since her riding accident.”

  They sipped their beers. From high in the hills came the sound of the wind beginning to stir among the pines. Occasionally it rustled the trees near the house.

  “Obviously, you’ve talked to her. Did she pay?”

  “I don’t think so, but Holland may have been guilty.”

  Gaines stroked his beard. “Statutory rape sounds a lot worse if your thirty something and thinking about doing ten years hard time. What makes you think he was guilty?”

  “Corbett said he looked guilty. When I talked to him in Denver he still looked guilty. And he has worked at a dozen girl schools over the last twenty years.”

  “Find anything definite?”

  Paula spoke up, “I talked to a woman who refused to comment but said she wouldn’t want her own daughter in Holland’s class.”

  “Perhaps I’ll make some calls. You have advantages with your techniques and we have ours. Do you have a list of schools?”

  Paula nodded, “I’ll e-mail it over in the morning.”

  Gaines finished his beer. “I’ll be getting home. Jane will be wondering where I got to.” He walked over to the edge of the deck. Putting on his hat and adjusting his holster he said, “Nice work Harry.” Then he added, “You too, Mr. Dirk.”

  Harry sensed it cost Gaines something to say it.

  Gaines nodded at them. “Good night Ms. Lindstrom, thanks for your hospitality.”

  Gaines disappeared into the dark. Soon his car started, headlight beams moved around in the night, and then it was dark.

  “You have some odd visitors, Harry.” Barton said. “I don’t get many cops dropping by my place.”

  “Gaines is all right. He could make my life a lot harder if he chose to. It pays to play ball.”

  “So you toss the case over to him?”

  “No. I still want to take a look at Dr. Oliver. There was something sketchy about him.”

  A hot dry wind rolled down from the mountains. Soon the trees were whipped into a frenzy. Under the moonlight the lake became foamy chop. Paula, Harry, and Barton hustled to gather up the dishes. The French door banged in the wind. Harry bolted the door.

  “Why don't you turn on the air conditioner, Harry? Paula suggested.

  The AC unit was large and soon the house was quite comfortable.

  Barton said, “I think it’s time for bed. Too many hours in flight.”

  “Me, too,” said Harry.”

  Paula took his arm and they climbed the stairs together.

  Sometime during the night Harry dreamed of air raid sirens. He came awake with a jolt. The bedside clock was dark. The wind rumble the house and the hum of the AC unit was gone. He tried switching on a light. Power’s out. He glanced at his watch, three-thirty. Harry moaned. Then he realized what roused him. From town he heard the wafting wail of sirens. He went out on the deck. The wind was fierce. Pine needles and bits of grit bit at his face. Across the lake and above the town, he saw a line of flashing red lights working their way up the pass road. He leaned around the corner of the house. High on the mountainside he saw an orange glow and then the lap of flames off the top of the ridge. As he watched the glow rapidly spread. It was the part of the range that didn't burn a few years back when a wildfire both threatened and destroyed a portion of the town.

  This is going to be a bad one, he thought, shaking his head slowly.

  To the west, far across the lake he saw another line of flashing red lights advancing toward town. That would be the Forest Service from up near Mason Forks.

  Harry watched the fire sprawl across the mountain ridge. Sirens wailed on the shore road. They grew to a shrill cacophony. The woods lit up with flashing red beacons as the fire trucks raced south. Paula came out on the deck. The fierce winds swirled her long hair and flogged her robe.

  “What is it Harry?”

  “Fire! We need to get ready to evacuate, this is going to be a big one.”

  For a few minutes he and Paula watched the distant flames, then they retreated inside and began to pack.

  Barton helped carry things down to Harry’s runabout.

  Ash fell like large dirty snowflakes. The winds swirled it into their eyes.

  “Can you take the boat to the marina?” Harry asked of Barton. “We’ll drive the pickup and car around. We can then store it all onto the houseboat.”

  Harry went back to the house. He opened windows to keep the house from super heating if the flames got too close, but with wood siding among the pines, if the fire came, Harry figured his house would be gone.

  The flames descended the mountainside with astonishing rapidity. It became a firestorm driven by the wind. Flames leaped crown to crown as pine trees exploded in flames. The ash-wave pushed by the smoke carried red-hot embers and burning sticks that fell as ignition points far ahead of the flames.

  Paula was still jamming items into her car.

  “We have to get out!” Harry yelled above the wind as the roar of the flames became evident.

  They started their vehicles. Ash accumulated on the windshield and they needed their windshield wipers to see. On the road a line of cars moved slowly toward town.

  Paula waited at the top of the drive for Harry. He pulled up and honked. Paula looked back and saw him pointing for her to turn north away from town. She forced her way across traffic and turned left, Harry rode her bumper onto the highway.

  In his review mirror Harry could see the line of cars. The flames were not far above on the mountain. The night sky was orange between roiling black shadows as clouds of smoke cut the glow off.

  Harry and Paula passed the last of the autos going south. Several drivers were pulling u-turns to flee in the other direction. Out on the lake, white stern light’ moved away across the water, like fireflies fleeing. It took them an hour to circle the lake. Along the western shore groups of people watched the distant flames. The reflected glow made the lake shimmer as if it were molten lava. Already the fire was reaching the foothills at the base of the peaks.

  Harry flipped on his radio.

  “According to Fire Marshal Scott Scotia of the Red Lake Fire Department, hot shot crews had pulled back hoping to contain the fire on the north and the south. Scotia said, “I fear this may burn all the way to the lake on the east. The hills directly behind the city burned a few years back. We hope to contain this sooner, but if not, that is where we believe our defensive line will hold on the south. To the north we have few options until we get some aircraft up and begin to drop re
tardant. The area is rough with poor access and has not burned in over fifty years.”

  “That’s the latest from the command center over at Red Lake High School, this is Julia Wright reporting.”

  Harry turned off the radio. The flames were bearing down on his house and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Downtown the ash fall was light. The wind was carrying it across the lake toward the Lazarus Mountains. Small clusters of people watched the flames to the east of town. Canaan County Fire Trucks and Department of Forestry Trucks rumbled past, going to and from the fire lines.

  Barton was waiting at Cody Marine. Paula picked him up and they drove to the Edison Building. For the next half hour they lugged their possessions up to Harry’s office. Then they went up on the roof to watch.

  Tall flames licked the sky. In town the winds had abated but on the fire line the flames generated their own driving wind.

  “Look how far north it has moved,” Harry said pointing.

  “I think it’s down to the lake. We've lost our house Harry!”

  Paula’s voice quivered; she was on the verge of tears. Harry slid an arm around her. “It's just a house,” he said, not fully believing his own words. “We can rebuild.”

  “But the trees? Everything will be gone!”

  There was nothing to say to that, so he simply held her tighter.

  Gradually, the eastern horizon grew lighter. The smoke over the lake flowed gray and thick. The winds held it north of town where overhead the sky turned a grubby yellowish-orange. On the mountain slopes the flames became harder to see. From far away came the drone of a plane. Then another.

  “There!” Barton said pointing high above the layer of smoke. To the west two fire bombers circled, probably awaiting enough light and orders on where to drop. The lead plane dropped altitude, “It’s a Martin Mars Water Bomber,” Dirk added.

  The plane banked and turned toward town, then it continued to descend. It came in low over the high school and by the time it reached West Beach Park it was down on the deck. The large amphibious prop plane hit the water.

  “She can scoop thirty tons of water in twenty seconds,” Barton yelled.

  Only three blocks away from the lake the plane's roar reverberated up the street, then the engines wound up and the craft picked up speed. It nosed up and climbed in broad circles, until the wings dipped and the plane flew straight toward the fire's southern flank. A spray of water fell from the plane. The bomber pulled up hard and disappeared behind a cloud of smoke.