At Witt's End (23 page)
Authors: Beth Solheim
"You don't need to knock. You're always welcome here,” Jane said.
A weak smile crossed Nan's lips. She greeted each sister with a hug. She patted Mr. Bakke's shoulder as she joined the elderly trio at the kitchen table.
"What do you think of my new hair color?” Sadie asked. “The magazines say it's all the rage."
"Wow,” Nan said, evaluating the new color as Sadie turned a complete circle. “Is it supposed to be mustard color?"
"Not really. Big Leon said I should wash it a couple times until the color fades.” Gazing in the mirror above the sideboard, Sadie said, “Actually, I kind of like it. It goes nice with these shorts.” She ran a hand over the leather fabric and looked up to see if Nan agreed.
"Big Leon told me to sprinkle this in my hair. It's supposed to give it that extra punch.” Sadie held up a bag of silver glitter. “I think it might be a bit too much. What do you think?"
Before Nan could answer, Jane said, “You already look like a damn fool. If you added glitter, people would mistake you for a Fourth-of-July sparkler and light your head on fire."
"Coming from someone whose life revolves around the vibrant color of beige, I'll take that as a compliment."
"I don't see anything wrong with looking respectable,” Jane said. “What's wrong with white and beige?” Seeking reinforcement, Jane said, “Mr. Bakke agrees with me.” Getting no response, she batted his hand and growled through clenched teeth, “Don't you."
"Yes, dear."
"I see you're wearing the same depressing colors Jane's wearing. What happened to your plaid shorts?” Sadie said.
"Jane surprised me with a new outfit.” Mr. Bakke looked down and sighed.
"If you want my advice, stick to what you usually wear. You look much better in plaid shorts and Hawaiian shirts than in those washed out colors. You and Jane look like twin cadavers."
"No, he doesn't,” Jane said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand. “Quit telling him stuff like that. I don't want him looking stupid like you."
"Before Nan knocked on the door, you said you were in the mood for rhubarb crisp,” Jane said. “Why don't you dish some up?"
"Why don't you? Just because you've got a crack in your ass doesn't mean your legs are broken,” Sadie said. She crossed to the cupboard and selected four forks and placed them on the counter.
Belly pawed at her leg as she jabbed one of the utensils into the dessert pan. She offered a forkful of rhubarb crisp to the impatient dog. Belly lapped at the fork before snorting and backing away. He expelled a slobbery sneeze that sent crisp flying in all directions.
"You know you don't like rhubarb,” Sadie said, swiping at a glob that had landed in her hair. “I don't know why you insist on tasting everything we eat."
Sadie pushed a plate toward her guest. Nan said, “None for me, thank you. It's one of my favorites, but I don't have much of an appetite."
"You've been awfully quiet,” Jane said. “Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure.” Nan pulled a folded envelope from her pocket and placed it on the table. “I've got something to discuss with you. Actually two things."
Sadie placed forks in front of Jane and Mr. Bakke before setting their desserts on the table.
"I've told you before I've been dating Paul Brinks and that the frequency has intensified,” Nan began.
Mr. Bakke shot a glance at Sadie before looking back down at his plate and grabbing his fork.
"You also know that with Carl's lawsuit pending, I might lose the land lease for the mortuary."
The elderly trio nodded their understanding.
"I'm afraid I find myself making a decision based on the love of my profession, rather than on what I should base it on.” Seeing their concerned expressions, Nan said, “Unfortunately, because of Carl Swanson, I'm leaning toward a decision I might regret later."
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell us,” Jane said. “What does Carl have to do with this?"
"Because of Carl, we're looking at an uncertain future.” Nan's face tensed. “That was until last night when Paul asked me to marry him. We'd talked about marriage in the past, but I wasn't ready. This time his offer was so lucrative, I didn't think I'd be able to turn it down. But then I found this. Now I don't know what to think.” She pointed at the envelope.
"Oh, my dear...,” Jane began, but Sadie held her hand up to interrupt her sister.
"We have something to talk to you about, too,” Sadie said.
"Maybe you didn't understand. Paul officially proposed last night.” Noticing the serious expressions on their faces, Nan's concern deepened.
"We understood,” Sadie said. She pointed at the envelope. “What's that got to do with Paul's proposal?"
"Do you remember when some of my clients were shocked to learn their life insurance polices weren't worth what they thought they were?” Nan pulled her chair closer to the table. “They were positive they had purchased policies with larger death benefits."
"I vaguely remember,” Sadie said, hoping Nan would validate what she and Theo had discovered.
"It's happened twice recently. Both of the policies were with a company named Gessal Life Insurance. This Gessal Life envelope was in Paul's car. I picked it up by mistake."
Mr. Bakke shifted nervously in his chair.
Sadie nodded in understanding. Nan asked, “You're familiar with that company?"
"I am. And I'm afraid we've got bad news for you."
"Oh, now what,” Sadie moaned, pulling the shuttle van up to the curb. She crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a defiant stance as she waited for Carl to get out of his cruiser.
Knuckles rapped against the sliding door. She stared out the windshield refusing to acknowledge him. After a second rap she shouted, “What's the matter, Carl? Are you so hard up you decided to frisk me?"
A voice said, “Pardon me, Sadie?"
Sadie grabbed the lever and the door swung open. “Sorry Lon. I'm so used to Carl pulling me over, I thought it was him."
Tipping his hat brim with his pen, Lon said, “That's quite the hairdo you've got there."
Sadie patted her hair. “Thanks. I like it, too. It goes nice with these shorts, don't you think?” She tipped her head and pointed to her glasses. “See the mustard speckles in these frames. Goes good with that, too."
The deputy raised his eyebrows. “Sure does."
Sadie's sandals slapped against her heels as she climbed out of the van. “I'm guessing you didn't pull me over for a friendly visit. But I'd be up for one if you've got the time."
"That won't be necessary.” Lon grinned. He looked down at Sadie's high-heel clogs and flipped open the cover on the citation book. “It seems you didn't bother to stop at the last three red lights. You're lucky you didn't cause an accident."
"Oh I never stop at those lights. They're there for the tourists."
"Hmmm,” Lon responded. “I thought everybody was supposed to stop when the lights turned red."
"Nope. Just the tourists. Those of us who live here know where we're going. That's why we don't have to stop."
"I didn't know that,” Lon said, biting at his lip and turning to avoid eye contact with the mustard-embellished woman.
Sadie climbed back up the van steps. “Well now you do."
"Wait a minute, Sadie. I don't think you understand. I have to issue a ticket because you ran three red lights. In all honesty, I should issue three tickets."
Frowning as she backed down the steps, Sadie said, “You're just like that good-for-nothing Carl Swanson. You're harassing me like he does. And here I thought you were a nice young man."
"I guarantee I'm nothing like Carl. I'm not harassing you. I'm doing my job."
"Picking on a helpless, old lady isn't doing your job."
"Trying to make sure no one is injured when someone runs a red light is part of my job. You could have caused a serious accident.” Lon shook his pen. “For your information, insulting me by comparing me to Carl won't help your case. That's hitting below the belt."
"I saw you going door to door campaigning for that loser yesterday. Why isn't he doing his own campaigning?” Holding a finger up and looking over the top of her glasses she said, “It's because he's busy playing the skin flute again, isn't it? I'll bet he's played every song ever written. My daughter told me he was always trying to get her to play it, too."
Smiling broadly as she observed Lon's shocked expression, Sadie said, “Why would you campaign for him if you don't like him?” The look on Lon's face answered her question. “He's got something on you, doesn't he? He's forcing you to do it?"
"Never you mind,” Lon said. He wrote on the citation tablet.
"I bet I know what it is.” Sadie's eyes darted with excitement. “My friend Elmer at the nursing home told me a rumor last summer about you roughing up an Indian and almost losing your job. Elmer knows everything. He gets the gossip from the nursing home staff."
"Carl framed me. He twisted the facts and made me take the blame for what he did. I couldn't afford to lose my job so I had to go along with it."
Sadie placed her hand on the citation pad and grabbed the pen. “I'll trade you information if you promise you won't write that ticket."
"I can't do that,” Lon said.
"What if I've got something on Carl that might keep him from harassing you? All you need to do is tell him you know about it."
The change in his expression pleased Sadie. Cricking her finger to get him to follow her into the van, she said, “I've got something unbelievable to tell you."
After listening to her detailed suspicions and hearing what she had found at the Fossums’ residence, Lon stared in disbelief.
"You got all this because one of Nan's clients complained about their life insurance policy?"
"Well, kind of,” Sadie said. “I put two and two together..."
"But what made you think Paul was involved?"
"It's a long story, but it mostly boils down to Aanders telling me how Tim overheard Paul threaten his father."
"That's quite a stretch. They'll laugh me out of the station if I tell them I want to have Richard's car examined for gun shots."
Sadie watched a puzzled expression cross Lon's face. “The fact I could be right should be enough for you to investigate. With the evidence I saw on Richard's desk, it should prove Paul was scamming his clients. I'll bet you ten bucks Richard was going to turn him in to the authorities and Paul got scared."
"You were an idiot for breaking into Richard's house. I can't believe you did that. What if Paul had found you in the pantry? If he killed Richard, he could have killed you too."
"But he didn't. That's all that matters. Now we've got to figure out a way to get those papers from Paul."
"We?” Lon said. “You're done sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. I'll take it from here."
"But maybe I can help by making an appointment with Paul to talk about insurance. I can get Jane to stop in and distract him while I check out his desk."
"You've been watching too much television. It's not done that way. We need a search warrant, but before I can request one I need more evidence."
"Well you better hurry, because Paul will probably destroy the evidence."
Lon paused as he sorted through what Sadie had told him. “A few things that happened recently are staring to make sense. Richard missed a golf date because he said he forgot. Richard lived to golf. Something drastic had to have happened for him to forget a thing like that. Now you're telling me Aanders said Paul threatened Tim's dad. Maybe there's something to that."
"There is. Richard figure out what Paul was doing and Paul had to stop him. Now you've got to figure out a way to examine the car."
"If Carl gets wind I'm investigating his best friend, he'll run me out of the department,” Lon said. “I'll never work in law enforcement again."
"You can't let Paul get away with this. You owe it to the Fossums to at least check out their car. Something made them go off the road. It's too much of a coincidence they died just hours after Paul and Richard argued."
"I've got a friend who owns a repair shop. I know I can trust him to keep his mouth shut,” Lon said. “If we find any evidence, I'll talk to the sheriff about a search warrant for Paul's office. We need to find the papers Paul took. I'll be in touch, Sadie. Don't do anything else foolish."
A small rental car pulled to a stop in front of Sadie's cabin. A wire-haired terrier yipped wildly as Erma Pouliot waved a greeting to Sadie and let the dog scamper toward the porch swing. The dog resumed his high-pitched greeting, bouncing excitedly in front of Sadie.
Sadie grabbed one of the swing's support chains and pulled herself up. As she walked to meet the Pouliots, the swing continued to sway and the dog continued to bark.
Gregg Pouliot flipped his sun glasses up and peered at the swing. “Your swing must catch a breeze off the lake. I wish we'd had that breeze. It's been hotter than a honeymoon this past week."
"Quit complaining. This was the best vacation we've had in twenty years.” Turning toward Sadie, Erma said, “We had to stop before we left to thank you for the enjoyable stay. You've got a great place here. I've never been so relaxed in all my life."
"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay. We think of Witt's End as our little piece of paradise."
Gregg pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “That miracle we witnessed yesterday still has me reeling. I don't now how that kid made it to shore. By all rights his folks should be planning his funeral."
"It just goes to show miracles can happen,” Sadie said, winking at Lora, who had remained on the swing.
"Yes, but there's no way that kid should have made it to shore. He disappeared below the water line and then all of a sudden he was lying on the beach. Now you explain that to me."
"I wasn't there, but I heard about it,” Sadie said.
Slipping her arm into the crook of her husband's elbow, Erma said, “The main thing is the boy survived."
Sadie joined them as they walked back to their car. Erma called to the dog, which had jumped up and settled comfortably on the swaying swing. The dog ignored Erma until his mistress said, “Come here right now, Mr. Twister. If you don't, you're going to have to ride in the back seat.
