Death at the Door (26 page)

June 5—Eighth District Police Station,
New Orleans, Louisiana

Lacey was halfway through her paperwork when her phone rang. She looked at her watch and was stunned to see that it was nearly six o'clock. She picked up the phone expecting to hear Russ inviting her out for dinner. Instead he invited her to the police station. She put on her tennis shoes and walked to the station.

Russ met her at the entrance, a wicked smile on his face. “You won't believe what Burt dug up on our girl.” He led the way to one of the interview rooms. After she was introduced to the parish attorney, they settled into chairs to hear the latest.

Ladeau pointed at Lacey. “Honey, you're going to want to give me a big hug when we get done with this. We ran Ms. Longet's fingerprints but we didn't get any hits on her here in the U.S. We did get a hit from our friends north of the border.”

“What did you say?” Lacey asked, a puzzled look on her face.

“We asked our friends in Ontario, Canada, to run a check on her fingerprints, and they came back positive.”

“What made you run her in Canada?” Lacey asked, trying to remember anyone on the robbery list who was Canadian.

“You know how you women collect things in the bottom of your purses?” Ladeau flicked his eyes at Lacey's leather shoulder bag hanging off the side of her chair. It was bulging at the sides from everything she had stuffed into it.

“Okay, guys, you've had your fun. What did you find in her purse?”

“A pen from a restaurant in Toronto and a receipt from a car repair shop in London, Ontario. We decided to see if the Mounties could help us out.”

“She has a record in Canada?” Lacey said.

“Just like here. She was caught with stolen goods. It was bunch of collectibles and some antiques stolen in Toronto. She got probation because they didn't have enough evidence to connect her with the theft.”

“What's her real name?” Lacey asked.

Burt pulled a pair of reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on. “Says here that her name is Celeste Gradoute.”

Lacey shot up out of her chair. “What did you say?” She reached for the fax in Burt's hands.

“Celeste Gradoute from Burlington, Ontario, about thirty miles southwest of Toronto near Lake Ontario.” He handed her the paper. “See for yourself.”

Lacey snatched the paper from his hands and read through the information. She dropped the paper on the table and began rummaging through her purse. “Shit, Russ, can I borrow your cell phone? I haven't had time to replace mine.”

Russ handed his over and she called Joel. When he didn't answer, she called the White Gull and left a message asking him to call her. She told him if he couldn't get her, it would be because she was on her way back to Door County. She gave him Detective Ladeau's number and told him he would be able to fill him in. She called the Edgewater Resort hoping to catch Lark or Ann and John. Neither of their phones answered. She left a similar message on Lark's machine and tried to call Sheriff Skewski. The dispatcher told her that he was out in the bay investigating a drowning. She left a message for him to get in touch with Ladeau regarding the robberies. She then called to check airline availability to Chicago. She booked a ticket on the last flight out to Chicago that night.

“When does she get arraigned?” Lacey asked.

“Ten tomorrow morning,” Ladeau said.

“That should give me time to get back to Door County and question Simon Gradoute.” She saw the puzzled look on the detective's face. “We have a Simon Gradoute and his wife who own two restaurants in Door County. They also own a large, antique-filled home. Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that a Simon Gradoute would live right in the area where the antiques are stolen and a Celeste Gradoute would be the person selling them?”

“Has she made phone calls to anyone other than her attorney?” Russ asked.

“None.”

“I suppose the barracuda could have called Simon and alerted him?” Lacey said.

The men nodded.

“It would help us out a lot if you can hold on to this information about Celeste's identity until I get to Door County. If Simon is involved in this, it should reduce his flight risk if he doesn't think that we know his link with Celeste.” Lacey stood up and stretched. “Russ, I assume you're staying here with Celeste and the stolen antiques.”

“You guessed right.”

“I'm going to go pack so I don't miss my plane. Burt, since you've already got a connection in Ontario, can you get information about Simon Gradoute from the Door County sheriff and check him out as well?”

“I'd love to,
chérie,”
Ladeau said.

She left the station after assurances that they would keep her posted. She walked back to the Monteleone Hotel, oblivious of the people around her partying with their go-cups of booze and strings of beads around their necks. Her mind raced with ideas about Simon Gradoute's involvement in the robberies.

The pieces fit together easily. He owned two restaurants where he and his staff could overhear who was coming and going throughout the county. He'd lived there for several years and ran in the same circles as some of the people who were robbed, so it was likely that he knew about their antique collections. He had the means to get rid of what was stolen and the opportunity to get into the houses. What Lacey couldn't understand was why he would risk his status in the community and how he could steal from his own family. She also wondered how he had gotten into so many homes so easily. She wondered what they would find when they ran a check on him in Canada.

Lacey had just enough time to pack and grab a cab to the airport. She used a pay phone in the terminal to call Lark and Joel one last time before she got on the plane. Neither answered their cell phones and Lark didn't answer at the Edgewater. She ended up leaving messages on their answering machines.

Her flight left a little after nine and was due to land in Chicago at eleven-thirty. Once she got her luggage and her rental car, it was a four-hour drive to Fish Creek. She figured she'd get a few hours sleep and then she and Joel could pull Simon Gradoute in for questioning. Once the plane was airborne, she tried to call Joel but the air phone was unable to make the connection. She hung up in frustration and settled into her window seat for a nap.

At eleven the pilot came over the loudspeaker, waking Lacey from a fitful sleep. He informed the passengers that due to a band of severe hailstorms across the Great Lakes area, they would not be able to land in Chicago and were diverting to St. Louis. After the announcement Lacey curled up in her seat and closed her eyes, resigned to the vagaries of weather and air travel.

Just before they landed, the captain announced that the airline would provide a bus to shuttle the passengers to Chicago. Lacey knew she could get to Door County much faster if she rented a car and drove straight through. It was after one in the morning by the time she finally got her luggage and her car. It started raining as she left the St Louis airport for the start of her 550-mile road trip.

She fished around in her purse for her cell phone so she could call and let Joel know her change in plans and remembered that her phone had been smashed to smithereens in the antique shop parking lot. Frustrated, she slung her bag across the passenger seat. It hit the passenger door and landed on the floor. She turned the radio dial until she found a station giving a weather report. The I-55 area northwest from St. Louis to Bloomington, Illinois, was in the middle of a severe rain and hailstorm alert, and tornado warnings were out for all the counties in the area. The reporter mentioned two areas with confirmed tornado damage.

Lacey pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot of a convenience store. She rested her head on the steering wheel and thought through her plan. It had seemed so smart a few hours ago in New Orleans to get a head start on things by leaving that night. She cursed her impatience. She went into the store and got a Styrofoam cooler and a bag of ice. She eyed the No-Doz in the drug section but walked past it to the coolers and got a six-pack each of diet Coke and diet Mountain Dew. The snack aisle yielded several bags of chips and half a dozen chocolate candy bars. When she got to the counter, she dug around in her purse to find her wallet to pay for her purchases. She found her wallet and Russ's cell phone in the bottom of her purse. She smiled; something in this godforsaken night was going right.

She loaded the cooler with ice, soda, and chocolate and stuck it on the floor of the front passenger seat. Her snacks were piled in the front seat. She belted up, popped the top on a diet Coke, opened a bag of corn chips and a chocolate bar, and pulled back onto I-55.

Rain fell in sheets, reducing her visibility and increasing her drive time. The weather reports would have been enough to keep her awake if her caffeine, sugar, and carbohydrate binge hadn't done the trick. Hailstorms were all around her, and two more tornadoes tore their way across central Illinois, one to the south and one to the north of her. As she switched radio stations to get local weather reports, she learned that the tornadoes were causing severe property damage. Tornadoes were new to her, as she'd grown up in upstate New York. Unlike the many people who were fascinated by funnel clouds, she didn't think she'd ever get used to them. She had no interest in seeing one, not tonight, not ever.

June 6—Chicago, Illinois

Lacey whipped around Chicago on I-294 and pulled off at an oasis to get fuel. Her cell phone rang just as she got back on the interstate. It scared the shit out of her. She dug it out of her purse and answered on the fifth ring.

“Russ, where have you been?” she asked. “I've been trying to call you all night.”

Lacey was interrupted by Lark yelling into the phone. “Dammit, I've been trying to call
you
all night. Where the hell have you been? You scared the shit out of us.”

“What do you mean, where have
I
been? I tried to call you several times last night but you were out, so don't give me any crap. Where the hell were you and how did you get this number?”

“I got roped into helping Skewski with a drowning. When I couldn't get ahold of you, I called Russ at the hotel to find out if your plans had changed. He told me he thought you had walked off with his cell phone. Where the hell are you?”

Lacey sensed more than anger in his voice. “I-294 outside Chicago, the Des Plaines oasis.”

“How in the hell did you get there?”

“How do you think I got here? I drove. My plane got diverted to St Louis because of storms.”

“So you weren't on the airline shuttle bus?”

“No,” Lacey said, wondering how he knew about that.

“Thank God,” Lark's voice returned to normal.

“Why are you making such a big deal over this?”

“The bus had an accident. It overturned in the median and several people were hurt or killed. They didn't have a list of people on the bus, but they did have the manifest from the plane and your name was on it. Joel and I have been trying to call you. We've been debating on whether one of us should just go down there since we couldn't raise you on Russ's phone and they didn't have you on any of their lists.”

Lacey was silent, thinking about how she could have been on the bus if she hadn't rented a car.

“Why in the world did you take off for Chicago last night?” Lark asked. “There weren't any planes leaving that late from Chicago to Green Bay.”

“I was planning on driving straight to Door County. I would have gotten in about three in the morning and slept a few hours before we interviewed Simon Gradoute.”

“Take your time getting back here. The Gradoutes are still in Chicago. They haven't come back since Paul Larsen's funeral. Joel debated on going down there to interview Simon, but he and Skewski decided that jurisdiction is much less complicated if we wait until he and Rose get home. John says they're due back sometime tonight.”

“If I'd know that, I would have flown out this morning.”

“If you'd called me, I could have told you.”

“I did call you. You weren't there.”

“Let's stop this,” Lark said. Lacey could hear his sigh through the phone. “Pull off and get some rest. You can drive the rest of the way this afternoon.”

“I couldn't sleep right now if my life depended on it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I'm full of chocolate and caffeine. The way I feel right now I could stay up forever.”

“That's always a bad sign. Drive until you get sleepy and then promise me you'll pull off and get a little rest.”

“That's the plan. Did Joel drive back from Madison last night?”

“No. He interviewed Daisy and then stayed over in Wausau last night. He'll be back up here sometime this morning, unless he goes down to New Orleans to try and bring Celeste back to Wisconsin. She's facing an attempted murder charge for Daisy's assault as well as multiple counts of breaking and entering and felony theft.”

“How is Daisy?”

“Looks like she's going to be fine. She's going to need several reconstructive surgeries, but her vision is normal in both eyes and she doesn't have any neurological problems.”

“Did Joel find out who shot her?'

“She remembers someone grabbing her when she walked into her house. She got away from them; they came after her and shot her. She didn't see who it was and she doesn't remember crawling to the phone and calling 911.”

“Does she remember if it was a man or a woman?”

“She thinks it was a man but she's not sure,” Lark said.

“No help there. Do they think she'll remember more?”

“Joel says she actually remembers things pretty well. She just didn't see who shot her. It's doubtful we'll get more from her.”

“Another dead end,” Lacey said. “What have you heard from Russ?”

“He's going to call me after the arraignment this morning. We've talked to Detective Ladeau and the DA and they are pretty sure Celeste won't get bail. They're also agreeable to extraditing her back to Wisconsin since her Louisiana charges are minor.”

They hung up after Lacey promised again to pull off when she got tired. She drove in and out of rain as she sped north through Milwaukee. It continued as she drove up the Lake Michigan coast toward Door County. Gray clouds and fog hung over the lake and it was often difficult to tell where the water met the horizon. She was exhausted when she got to Sturgeon Bay, so she pulled over and had lunch and an infusion of coffee. Her body was demanding sleep but she bought a large coffee to go and got back on the road. She drove the last thirty minutes with her window rolled down and her radio blaring.

Lacey pulled into a parking spot in front of the White Gull at twelve-thirty. She put out of her mind the thought that she could have gotten a good night's sleep and flown out that morning. She called Lark as soon as she'd lugged her suitcase into her cottage. He told her that Russ had just called with the good news that Celeste Gradoute had been denied bail because of her prior arrest and her flight risk potential.