The Grave Soul (9 page)

Startled by a knock on the driver's window, Jane turned to see Cordelia, dressed in a red cape and black Cossack boots, holding up a leather satchel.

Rolling down the window, Jane asked, “Where are the trunks?”

“Bolger convinced me to travel light.”

“Score one for Bolger.” She unlocked the rear hatch and Cordelia tossed the satchel inside.

As soon as Cordelia had clipped on her seat belt, Jane handed her a file folder.

“What's this?”

“I called Dad's paralegal last night.” Norm Toscallia was a wizard at ferreting out information quickly. “Those are background checks on Kevin, Doug, Hannah, and Delia Adler.”

“Criminal background?”

“Everything.” Jane pulled out onto Irving and headed back to Hennepin, where they would catch I-94.

“Have you read them?” asked Cordelia, paging through the documents.

“That's what you're here for.” The entire stack had been faxed to Jane at the restaurant, arriving just before she'd left. “Read through them and give me the high points.”

After slipping on her reading glasses, Cordelia silently studied the pages for the next few minutes. “So, who do you want to hear about first?”

“Your choice.”

“Okay, Delia. Born Delia Teresa Howell, in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1965. Father an army chaplain, mother a homemaker. Delia grew up at various army bases around the country. One brother, Thomas, two years older, also in the military. Mom and dad divorced when Delia was four. Kids stayed with the father. Delia graduated from Russell County High School, in Seale, Alabama. No college. Married Kevin Leighton Adler in 1983 at Fort Hood, Texas. She was arrested near Fort Benning, Georgia, for drunk driving in 1984 and 1986, and again in New Dresden, Wisconsin, in 1994. No other arrests. Worked half a dozen minimum wage jobs in New Dresden. My analysis?” said Cordelia, lifting a finger. “Delia had a peripatetic childhood, a drinking problem, and wasn't much good at keeping a job.”

“Read Kevin's next.”

“Kevin Leighton Adler. Son of Henry Erhard Adler and Evangeline Ruth Adler, nee Carmody. Raised in New Dresden. Graduated from Richmond High School in 1980. Five months later he entered the army. He served in the first Gulf War, attained the rank of staff sergeant before he was mustered out in 1992, whereupon he moved his wife and two daughters, Grace and Kira, back to New Dresden. Started his own construction company. Inherited the Sportsman's Tavern from his uncle, Hugh Carmody, in 1996.”

“The year after Delia died.”

“No criminal record.”

“What about Doug?”

“I thought I got to pick.”

As they reached the outskirts of downtown St. Paul, traffic on the freeway began to thin. “My apologies.”

“Damn straight.” Pulling a pack of bubble gum out of the pocket of her cape, Cordelia unwrapped a lump and popped it in her mouth. “Care for something to rot your teeth?”

“Thanks. I'll pass.”

“Douglas Adolf Adler.” She glanced at Jane. “Gives you the urge to salute, doesn't it?”

“Keep going.”

Cordelia hummed and chewed as she scanned the information. “Three years older than Kevin, two years older than Hannah. Degree from U-Madison in journalism in 1981. Worked at the
New Dresden Herald
until he inherited it in 1994. Married Laurie Ann Sherman in 1980. No children. Closed the doors in 2003. No criminal record, but he has … let me count.” She paused. “Nineteen speeding violations over a period of twelve years. Jeez, he's really got a lead foot. One DUI a year ago. Nothing since. He currently works as a forklift operator at Vaughn's Lumber in New Dresden.”

“A big comedown from being the editor of the local paper,” said Jane. She never expected a lot from background checks, though she never knew what piece of information might turn out to be important. “And finally, Hannah Adler?”

Cordelia blew a bubble and flipped to the last report. “Hannah Justine Adler. Medical degree in gastroenterology and family medicine from U-Madison medical school. Never married. No children. Primary employer is Northside Medical Care in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. No criminal record. Boring, boring, boring.” She took off her reading glasses and replaced them with sunglasses “That was an exercise in futility. Where's all the good stuff? The dirt. The gossip. The
real
grist for our sleuthing mill.”

Jane had spent last night assembling a list of information she was hoping to ferret out in the next two days. Anything that moved her closer to understanding who Delia Alder had been, what problems and issues she'd been dealing with in the months, weeks, and days before she died, would push Jane nearer to the reason for her murder, and hopefully, ultimately, shine a light on the identity of her killer.

Beyond family members, Jane needed to locate several significant players: the police officer who'd come to the scene of Delia's death; the coroner who, in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, had ruled that death accidental; and finally, the name of the undertaker who'd handled Delia's remains, sending them off to be cremated.

To break this case open, all Jane needed was to convince one of those last three people to tell the truth. Straightforward enough, though hardly a simple task. Twenty years after the fact, with a potential prison sentence hanging over their heads for colluding to cover up a murder, getting even one of them to talk would be next to impossible.

Still, Jane had made a promise to give Guthrie two days. And two days it would be.

 

14

The Timber Lodge Motel on Birch Lake had been recently renovated. It was pure north woods kitsch, here and there even a little garish, though taste aside, most of the carpeting and furnishings were new. Jane stood at the reception desk and signed for two rooms on the second floor. When the woman behind the counter gestured to the stairs, saying that the motel didn't have an elevator, Jane sent up a silent prayer of thanks that all trunks had been left at home.

As Cordelia freshened up in her room, Jane sat down in her connecting room with the background information on the Adlers. She was specifically interested in the address of the house where Kevin and Delia had been living when Delia had died. She found it fairly quickly and tapped it into her phone's GPS. Checking the distance, she saw that it wasn't more than two miles away.

Once back in the car, Jane commented on Cordelia's change of attire. Instead of the cape and Cossack boots, she was wearing a buffalo-plaid hunting jacket, black jeans, and a Batman T-shirt. “Where'd you get the T-shirt?” asked Jane.

“You think I'm going to tell you that? So you can run right out and buy one for yourself? No way, dearheart. This is
my
fashion statement.”

Jane was a bit nonplussed to think Cordelia thought of her as the Batman-T-shirt-type.

“Did you try out your bed?” asked Cordelia.

“Never thought about it.”

“Well, mine's lumpy.”

“You have terrible luck with motel beds.”

“Only in fleabags.”

“This isn't a fleabag.”

“Just because they've put down some new carpet and added a few, may I say hideous, pieces of new furniture, doesn't mean this place doesn't qualify for fleabag status. In fact, I may start giving fleabag star ratings. One flea. Two fleas. You get the picture. We seem to stay in so many when we're off in search of evildoers.”

“You sound like George Bush.”

“Ah, the halcyon days, when I was driving that Hummer and thought if I pressed the wrong button, I might end up launching a missile.”

Jane had never understood Cordelia's Hummer period. It was best left buried in the mists of time.

“Where are we going?” asked Cordelia, fiddling with the heat.

“Forty-nine Amberwood Trail. Delia and Kevin's old house.”

“The scene of the crime.”

“One of them,” said Jane.

Driving up a fairly steep hill to the house, Jane parked her CR-V in the unplowed driveway. The home was two stories, covered in weathered wood shakes, and had obviously seen better days. The green paint around the doors and windows was peeling, and the screens were old, rusty, and full of holes. There were a few other houses around, but all were at least a block away and none as close to the ravine.

“Do you think anyone's living here?” asked Cordelia, peeking in the window of the one-stall garage.

“Looks pretty derelict to me.”

They tramped through snow to the rear of the house, where they found a chain-link fence preventing anyone from gaining access to the ravine.

“I wonder if the fence was here when Delia fell,” said Jane.

“I can't imagine building a house this close to something so dangerous without a fence,” said Cordelia. “Seems like it would be a kid magnet.” She shuddered.

Jane was surprised by how rugged and steep the ravine was. Turning back to the house, she studied the deck. Like the rest of the place, it was in rough shape. Several of the upright posts had broken off. “Makes you wonder why the murderer needed to strangle her. Just pushing her off would have done the trick. If she didn't die immediately, the subzero temperatures would have finished her.”

“You saying the strangulation was overkill?” asked Cordelia.

“I think it shows rage. Makes me wonder about premeditation.” Jane took a few photos with her cell phone.

“Must have been hard to haul her body up, especially in the ice and snow,” said Cordelia, shivering.

Studying the angles, Jane concluded that if Delia had dropped from the deck like a rock, she would have landed ten to fifteen feet down the incline. If there'd been any force at all, if she'd been ejected, she could easily have landed twenty or thirty feet down. With all the trees and rocks, there was no possible soft landing.

“Okay, we've seen it,” said Cordelia, tugging on Jane's arm. “Let's get out of here. Where to next?”

“The town library.”

“What do you expect to find there? Besides books and librarians?”

“Have patience and all will be revealed.”

*   *   *

They spent the next half hour scoping out the downtown area. It was a charming small town. Most of the buildings were old and some of them were quite beautiful. New Dresden gave the impression of being well cared for and prosperous. Pine boughs and decorations hung above most of the shop windows. On Main Street, minilights wound around street lights, providing color and more Christmas cheer.

“Very middle America,” said Cordelia. “I'm getting high breathing in all the family values. Not to put too fine a point on it,” she added, lowering her sunglasses for effect, “I've counted six bars, in case you become overwhelmed by irony and need a libation. Hey, there's the Sportsman's Tavern.” She pointed.

Jane slowed the car. “Looks like a dive.” A dive with a
HELP WANTED
sign in the window.

“They all look like dives to me,” said Cordelia. “Not that I've got anything against a good dive bar every now and then.”

“It's the long cold winters,” said Jane. “Takes a lot of grit to live in the upper Midwest.”

“Grit and cheese and brats,” agreed Cordelia.

“Let's check in at the library, and then we can have an early dinner.”

*   *   *

The New Dresden library was located in the government center. It was a small room off the central hallway, across from the Dresden PD, and was packed to the rafters with books, DVDs, music CDs, and even a few computers.

Jane stepped up to the counter and waited until a fiftyish looking woman came out of a back room. She was plump, with short salt-and-pepper hair and the smile of a woman who loved her job.

“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

“Do you have copies of the
New Dresden Herald
?”

“Oh, goodness, that died years ago. Always thought it was sad, you know? A town should have a newspaper. I used to read it from cover to cover.”

“Have any copies been saved?”

“I believe we have them all. Our archive is in another room. Any particular year, day, month, you're looking for?”

“December, 1995.”

“Okay, sure. Just give me a sec.” She bustled out the door.

Jane found Cordelia kneeling next to one of the bookshelves.

“Think Hattie would like this.” She held up a hardcover. “
Classical Physics for Kids
.”

“Wonderful,” said Jane, raising her eyebrows and turning away. She moved around the room, picking up a mystery here, a cookbook there. It only took a few minutes before the woman was back, a stack of yellowed newsprint in her hand.

“Here you go,” she said. “Is there some particular issue you're interested in?”

“I'd just like to browse.” Jane didn't want to call attention to her search.

“Sure thing. There's a table in the back. You can spread out.”

Jane thanked her, took the newspapers, and nodded for Cordelia to follow her back.

“Do we have the date of her death?” whispered Cordelia, trying to wedge herself into one of the small chairs. “I think we're in the children's section.”

“All I know is that it was before Christmas. We need to check all the obituaries. I wouldn't doubt, since Delia was Doug's sister-in-law, that we might also find an article.”

They divided up the eight papers. Ten minutes later, while perusing the last newspaper, Cordelia erupted.

Jane put a finger to her lips. “What?”

“Here it is.” She pushed the paper between them and they both read in silence:

N
EW
D
RESDEN
H
ERALD,
T
HURSDAY,
D
ECEMBER 18TH, 1995

D
EATH OF
N
EW
D
RESDEN
W
OMAN