Frozen Stiff (6 page)

Much as she wanted to hear more of what Danielle had to say, Claire stood and put a restraining hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Calm down. You can’t see your father right now, but he’s in good hands.”

“Well, you’re who I should be talking to anyway. This woman,” Danielle pointed at Sherri, “stood to gain a lot by my father’s death. You’re a cop. I’m guessing she had something to do with my dad getting hurt or almost killed.”

“I don’t need to listen to this.” Sherri stood up and left the room.

The two older women leaned forward, continuing to listen intently to the conversation.

“No need to be accusing anyone of anything. We don’t know what happened yet.” Claire then insisted, “Sit down and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

Danielle plunked down next to Claire and set her plump pink leather purse in her lap as if it was a fat cat that needed to be petted. Danielle’s lips curled back and she said quietly, “I can make a pretty good guess.”

“Don’t you want to know how your father is?”

For a moment, Danielle turned into a little girl, her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “Is he okay? Did he really almost freeze to death? How could that happen? Is he going to be okay?”

“So far so good. The doctors have to take it very slowly in warming him up. So we won’t know for a while.”

Danielle looked at Claire. “You mean, he still could die?”

“There’s a chance, but I think he’s in pretty good hands.”

The young woman hung her head, her hair cascading down over her face. “I can’t believe this could happen to him. I’m sure he didn’t lock himself out of the house, he doesn’t do things like that.”

“Why would you think Sherri would do anything to your father?” Claire asked in a low voice.

Danielle lifted her head, flicked back her hair, and sniffed back her tears. “Stupid cow. They’re getting a divorce. He was dumping her without a cent. If he were to die before the divorce, she probably thinks she would get everything.”

4:10 pm

Curt sank into the bean bag next to Andy’s and grabbed the controls. They were going for the record. What a way to start the new year!

Curt loved the way Andy had his room set up so he didn’t even have to get out of bed to play. He had everything he needed within reach: all his games and the controllers sat on a long bench at the foot of the bed. He had blinds that stayed permanently down on his windows so that it was nice and dark and you could see the screen better. The low light of the game revealed walls covered with posters of old bands—Nirvana, Def Leppard, the Doors. He even had a lava lamp that burbled away in the corner.

Andy didn’t turn his head to talk to Curt. He just gave a nod and said, “I got it, man. I told you I would.”

“What?”

“You know, that other version of GTA.”

Curt always had to remind himself that GTA wasn’t a grocery store chain, it was the best video game in the world, Grand Theft Auto. “Remind me.”

“I told you about it—that Hot Coffee version, where they left in the sex scenes. I managed to score a copy in the cities this morning. You ready to crack it?”

“I guess.” Curt didn’t want to admit he felt a little weird watching sex scenes with other guys. He would probably feel weird watching sex scenes period, but maybe if he was by himself he could get into them more.

After playing the game for a while, he found that the sex scenes didn’t bother him that much. They were just a part of the whole intensity of the action. He felt himself sinking into the game, after a few false moves, getting himself killed in stupid ways, he started to figure it out and a smoothness entered him. He felt like he could play the game forever.

When he finally got killed again, he pulled his gaze away from the monitor and glanced over at the clock radio by Andy’s bed. “It’s really after four o’clock?”

“Time flies when you’re crushing the bad guys.” Andy laughed.

“I gotta go, man.”

“Hear ya,” Andy didn’t even look at him, still focusing on the game.

“Cool game,” Curt said.

“Yeah, back at ya.”

Curt laughed. When it was just the two of them, they threw the hip-hop slang at each other. Just for fun. Just to try it out. “Round.”

“Yeah, later.”

Curt reluctantly stood up. As he unfolded his body from the bean bag, he couldn’t believe he had been sitting in the same position for over three hours. Amazing how time went by when you were trying to steal a bunch of cars!

Then it hit him—he remembered Meg and the movie they were going to see. He was supposed to be at her house right now; she had wanted to grab something to eat before the movie. He thought of completely blowing her off, rather than going over there now and facing her. It would not be pretty. She was not going to let him forget this.

4:30 pm

Amy walked slowly through the house one last time and didn’t see anything else jump out at her.

As far as she could tell, Dan Walker hadn’t had a guest last night, but had, in fact, celebrated the new year alone. Unless that person didn’t eat, drink, smoke, or leave anything behind. Maybe they had cleaned up after themselves, although seeing the mess in the sink, she didn’t see how that would be possible.

She walked up to the bank of windows on the main floor and stared outside at the top of the trees. Even in the warmth of the house, she could tell how cold it was outside. The trees moved differently, more rigidly, like they would snap if you
touched them. And the snow had a brittle quality. When it was blown up by the wind, it swirled in a tight tornado of sharp shards. Dangerous weather.

Amy didn’t want to go back outside. She wanted to lay down on the Berber carpet and sleep. What she really wanted to do was turn on the sauna, take all her clothes off, and sit in that small cedar room until her bones melted.

When she turned away from the windows, she saw a stack of papers tucked on a shelf under the coffee table. They looked legal. She pulled them out and glanced over them.

“Purchase agreement,” it read across the top of the page. She scanned the first sheet and saw the name of Edna Gordon, then the block and lot numbers of her farm. What was this about?

Amy realized what she was holding in her hands was an agreement for Daniel Walker to buy the Gordon farm. For a chunk of change, but, by what she knew about the real estate market, not quite what it was worth, even though the market wasn’t as good as it had been.

She couldn’t believe that Walker had been able to talk Edna into selling the family farm.

Amy had a hard time believing that John Gordon would have let that land go under any circumstances. From the little she knew of their situation, John was actually working other jobs just to keep the farm together. She heard he had gone south to work in construction this winter. Maybe it had all gotten to be too much for him. Maybe the agreement was totally legit.

Or maybe Daniel Walker had sweet-talked Edna into selling the farm when John hadn’t been around, maybe he had given someone else a good reason to want him dead.

4:30 pm

R
ich finished making a bed of straw for Meg’s goat. A stray cat wound around his legs. The scrawny creature had made a home for himself in the barn and Rich had bought a bag of cat food to feed him. This morning when he had come out to the barn, he had found the goat and the cat curled up together.

As he stood, he felt his back twinge. Time to take a break. Rich decided to treat himself at Le Pain Perdu to a French donut or two and a cup of coffee. He needed the warmth, he needed the sustenance, but what he really needed was some company. He had heard that the bakery was going to be open on New Year’s Day. Besides serving baked goods Stuart had promised to be offering black-eyed peas and rice, a traditional fare for the day from the other end of the Mississippi.

When he stepped outside, he felt his shoulders go into a hunch and the wind swept his breath away. Working in the barn Rich had been at least sheltered from the wind, but it was still nasty cold. His fingers were red and swollen and his ankles itched. He remembered his mom talking about chilblains that she had gotten in the winter when she was a kid, a skin affliction that came from your skin freezing and thawing. He’d have
to talk to Claire’s sister Bridget, the pharmacist, about what he could put on his skin.

When Rich drove up to the bakery, he pulled his pickup truck as close as he could get to the sidewalk without getting stuck in the snowbank. The snow had been piled up next to the curb by the plow and Stuart had, at least, cut a path through it to get to the bakery.

As Rich pushed open the frosted door to Le Pain Perdu, warmth and humidity hit him in the face. Then the delectable smells. In the cold outdoor air of January all odors went away, but inside the bakery the air was filled with cardamon, cinnamon, and almond fragrances. He wanted it all.

But first he needed a big cup of coffee. He walked over to a stack of cups and picked the largest one he could find, then pulled the coffee pot off the burner and poured himself a brimming cup.

“Who said you could help yourself?” the waitress, Cheryl he thought her name was, swatted him with a towel.

“Hey, if I had to wait for the service around here, I’d never get anything.”

“Just for that, we’re out of French donuts.”

“Don’t tell me that. I might have to go back out into the cold, sit in a snowbank, and pout.”

“We might have one or two left.”

“Make it three, please. I’ll seat myself.” Rich went over to his favorite spot, the booth by the south-facing window. He knew he was getting no vitamin D from the sun at this time of year, but the brightness and the faint sense of heat would have to do.

“Rich, my man.” Stuart Lewis, the blond, svelte owner of the bakery, slid into the booth opposite him. How Stuart managed to keep so thin when he was always around all these sweets was amazing to Rich. But he knew that Stuart worked at it. Rich would sometimes see him running to the bakery at four in the morning. Stuart had explained that he had to exercise hard and consistently or all the pastries he ate would make him the Michelin man.

“Cold enough for you?” Rich asked the typical January question. “You didn’t run to work today, did you?”

“No way. Actually I wish it would drop another ten degrees. Isn’t that the point were the gas freezes in the tank? Then, at least, I’d have an excuse for staying home. It was bitter this morning.”

Cheryl set a plate of three French donuts in front of Rich and poured him another blast of coffee. Rich nodded thanks. She lifted the pot in Stuart’s direction and he nodded yes. She went to get him a cup.

“What’s going on?” Rich asked, again a reflex question. He figured that way Stuart could talk while he stuffed the first donut in his mouth.

“Well, I just heard that Dan Walker landed in the hospital. They say he tried to turn into the abominable snowman. Claire’s there with him so I’m guessing it must have been more than an accident. You heard anything?”

Cheryl set down Stuart’s coffee in his special mug marked, “King Rolling Pin.”

Rich shook his head. “You know I’m always the last to know these things. Claire might mention something about work when she gets home. If she thinks about it or if I ask.”

“I only know because the EMTs who took him to the hospital stopped by for coffee.”

“What happened? Hypothermia? What’d the idiot do—go for a walk last night and get lost?”

“Yeah, without any clothes on.”

“You’re kidding. Although I’ve heard people who get hypothermia often pull all their clothes off.”

“No, I guess he was trying out his new sauna and decided to go for a roll in the snow.”

“He sure picked the wrong night. But I don’t get why Claire’s involved.”

“I heard they suspect that his wife might have locked him out.

“Yikes, that’s rather serious. I have to admit I didn’t care for the guy myself, but there might be better ways to settle their differences.”

“Sara Hegstrom told me she thinks they’re getting divorced. She cleans house for them. She says they’ve been at each other.”

“Boy, you are gossip central today.”

“Gotta do something to keep your mind off the weather.” Stuart looked down at the last donut on Rich’s plate. “How’re the donuts today?”

“Slightly above average, which is pretty darn good in my book.”

Stuart was starting to walk away when Rich stopped him. “Hey, I have news.”

“What’s that?”

Rich had to tell someone. “Claire popped the question last night.”

“What question? What’s the meaning of life?”

“No, the other question. She asked me to marry her.”

Stuart snorted. “Marriage? Aren’t you guys past that?”

“Not me. Her pension might come in handy down the road.” Rich smiled. “You up to baking a cake?”

4:45 pm

Amy had forgotten how attractive John Gordon was. Not in a dark, tall, conventional way. He was short and stocky with sandy red hair, light blue eyes, ruddy skin—but he was so healthy looking, so strong, so full of life. She also had forgotten how brusque he could be.

When she had knocked on his mother’s front door, he had pulled it open with a, “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

He had simply stepped back and gotten out of her way.

Amy entered through the back door, which was the door everyone used to enter the farmhouse and led right into the kitchen. A large round oak table was in the middle of the floor with chairs around it and a lazy susan in the middle, holding salt and pepper and condiments. There was a glow to the room: the sun streaming in the window over the sink, the old cookstove putting out heat, and the companionship of the two people in it.

Edna turned from the stove and said, “Well, if it isn’t little Amy. Haven’t seen you in an age.”

“Hey, Mrs. Gordon,” Amy said, watching the older woman get a coffee cup down from the shelf. She hadn’t seen Edna Gordon in several years, and she knew Edna must be getting close to eighty, although she looked quite good and seemed to move
around easily. Her short, blunt-cut hair still had a smattering of brown in it and her blue eyes seemed as clear as day.