[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) (12 page)

She put down the photograph and removed her glasses. “I never did believe that crap about Jesse James,” she said as she rubbed her eyes.

I continued now that I had her attention. “I never mentioned this before because it was, well, it was weird, and until now, I didn’t think it had anything to do with Mike.” Then Fred raised his head and started to wag his tail.

Kevin came out on the deck and cut me off in mid-sentence. “Hey, Mom, I need the car to go over to Taylor’s.” He already had the keys in his hands and started toward the front door. Fred was right behind him.

Megan jumped out of her chair to run after Kevin. “Hold that thought. I need to talk to him before he takes off.”

While waiting for Megan, and my dog, I went back into the kitchen and took two more beers from the refrigerator. I could see her and Fred in the foyer talking to Kevin. Actually, Megan was doing all the talking. Fred just sat there listening.

I thought about calling my dog but thought better of interrupting, so I went back to the deck, where I put one beer on the table and opened the other for myself. Then, while sipping at my beer, I went over to the rail to watch the boats. The view was fantastic; you could see boats a mile in either direction. I was watching a Cuddy Cabin go by with a couple of girls in bikinis when Megan and Fred returned.

She picked up her beer and walked over toward me. “A little young aren’t they.” Her tone was more of a statement than a question.

“Who’s a little young?” I pretended to see the girls for the first time, “Oh. Them. I didn’t even notice. I was checking out the motors on that boat: two, two-hundred outboards. That’s some setup.”

“Sure you were, you old pervert. Like you can see that far,” she said and smiled before sitting back down in her deck-chair. “Now where were we? Weren’t you about to tell me a weird story about Mike?”

I returned to my own chair and opened my beer. Fred was pacing back and forth, so I poured him some of the brew before I continued. “We’ve determined the story about Jesse James hiding a stash down there was just that – a story. So where did Mike get those coins in the first place?”

Her smile disappeared faster than the boat with the girls. “I’ve been asking myself the same question,” she answered.

I unconsciously straightened my back before I continued. “Do you remember that news clipping I told you about?” Megan put her beer down and looked at me. Even Fred sensed that I had something important to say; he stopped licking the deck and sat up, too. “You know, the bad copy about a coin dealer and his wife who had killed themselves,” I said, pouring Fred more beer.

This time she spilled the beer. “You think that’s where Mike got the coins?” she demanded without even looking at the spill.

“I’m only thinking out loud, Meg. Don’t bite my head off,” I answered. “Isn’t it strange that he comes into a fortune of gold coins shortly after the Fergusons meet their maker?”

Megan didn’t speak for several seconds. Then before she could say anything, her phone began to ring. “I better get that. It may be Kevin,” she said as she left the deck.

Fred must have felt the tension. He laid down by my feet, his head in his paws, staring at me. I’m sure he was trying to tell me not to make Megan cry.

“It’s Rosenblum,” she said when she returned a few minutes later. “The body was Bill Atkins, and now Bennet wants to charge us for his murder.”

Forty-five minutes after the phone call, Megan and I were sitting in Rosenblum’s office. It would have been fifteen minutes sooner, but my sister insisted on changing into something less casual. The low-cut slinky dress she chose wasn’t exactly a Sunday-school outfit. We left Fred at the house to sleep off his hangover.

“Why does Bennet think the body is Bill, and where does he get the idea that we killed him?” she asked the lawyer after he showed us to a pair of chairs facing his desk.

Rosenblum tried not to look directly at my sister, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her chest. “The coroner will need the DNA report from Jefferson City to confirm his identification. The fish had eaten the flesh on his face down to the bone, so visual ID was impossible. But the driver’s license they found says it was Bill Atkins.”

“But how in God’s name did he come to the conclusion that we killed him?” I asked raising my voice before Megan had a chance to say anything. “I was in Colorado when all this went down.”

Rosenblum must have felt embarrassed for staring at my sister. His face was bright red when he turned toward me to answer my question. “Let’s all calm down, please. Bennet believes you helped your sister cover up the murder. He’s charging you with accessory after the fact.” Then Rosenblum regained his composure, suddenly grinning like a kid who just won a spelling bee. “But he isn’t going to arrest either of you. I was able to stop him from getting the warrant.”

Megan’s attitude changed instantly. “How did you manage that, Ira?” she asked, leaning forward to put her elbows on his desk so she could rest her chin in her hands and return the smile. I was afraid her breasts would pop out of her dress.

“Well, Bennet doesn’t even know for sure the body is Atkins. All he has is that driver’s license, and it could have been planted by anyone. I was able to get George to see reason, and he agreed not to issue the warrant until Bennet can come up with a positive ID and more than a hunch that you killed him.”

“Who’s George?” Megan asked, sitting back in her chair.

He snuck another look at her cleavage. Then averting her eyes, he answered her question. “Sorry. I assumed your brother had told you the judge is an old friend of mine.”

I had completely forgotten that Rosenblum had mentioned George during our initial phone conversation back in Kansas. I was about to make some excuse for my lapse of memory, but he spoke first.

“I’ll get to Bennet’s misguided murder theory in a minute, but first I need someone to tell me what happened out there to get Bennet so mad?”

“Maybe it was the ticks,” I answered, trying to add a little humor to show I wasn’t upset.

“Ticks? What are you talking about?” He asked while thumbing through some papers he had on his desk.

“Well, after fishing the body out of the lake, Bennet and his deputies did their forensic search. They made the mistake of leaving the path and going into the brush, so I assume they got covered in ticks the way Fred did,” I answered.

Rosenblum put down the papers he had been scanning. “I don’t see any mention of anyone named Fred in this report. Who the hell is he?”

“My brother can be a little obtuse sometimes, Ira.” Megan answered while adjusting her skirt. “Fred is his golden retriever. He’s the one who found the sock.”

Rosenblum just stared at us, and then picked up the report again. “I give up. There’s no mention of any socks either. Would one of you mind bringing me up to date? And please don’t leave out any details.”

Megan was still making a show of playing with her skirt, so I jumped in to tell the story. It took over half an hour to relate the events of Bennet’s search. Megan only interrupted once. That was when I mentioned Kevin’s claim that he and Taylor knew nothing about the drugs.

“Except for the sock, it’s all old news.” Then he turned toward Megan.

“And don’t worry too much about the drug charge, Mrs. Carver. I ran a carfax on that truck just to see its history. Taylor’s father bought it at a police auction after it was seized in a drug bust. I doubt if the DA will even take the case to trial. But if she does, I’ll make the Fremont County Sheriff’s Department look like school crossing guards.”

“Thank God,” Megan said, slowly crossing her legs. “But why does the creep think I murdered Bill?”

He started to answer her, but his voice failed him; all he could do was cough.

“Are you okay, Ira?” Megan asked.

“Just need a drink,” he answered in a whisper and reached for a coffee cup that had been sitting on his desk before we arrived.

He shifted his attention to the coffee and made a sour face. “I need to ask you something personal about this, Megan,” he said, still studying his coffee. “Do you want your brother to leave?”

“No problem. I was ready to leave anyway,” I said. It was the first time I heard him call her anything other than Mrs. Carver. It sounded like the personal question might really be personal and have nothing to do with the case.

“Stay put, Jake,” she said before I could get out of my chair.

Now I was really confused. All this time she had been hitting on the lawyer, and now that he wanted to get her alone, she wanted me to stay? I sat down like a good little brother and shut my mouth.

“Okay, but stop me if there’s something that gets too personal.” Rosenblum put his coffee cup down and looked directly at Megan. “Were you having an affair with Bill?”

She nearly knocked over her chair when she stood up. “Bill Atkins! You’ve got to be kidding. I’d rather sleep with Pee Wee Herman!”

Then she placed both her hands on his desk and lowered her voice. “I loved my husband, Ira. It’s no secret that we hadn’t been getting along. But I swear, I wasn’t screwing anyone. Who would even think I was messing around behind Mike’s back?”

“Sorry, but I had to ask.” This time his eyes never wavered from hers. “Bennet thinks you were having an affair with Bill, so you could get him to kill Mike.”

“Go on,” she said without taking her eyes from his. It made me think of one of the staring matches Fred and I would get into when he wanted something.

Rosenblum lowered his eyes and continued. “Bennet couldn’t get his first murder charge to stick because of his handling of the suicide note and lack of any real evidence. But now he thinks Atkins is all the proof he needs to connect you to Mike’s murder.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Ira.” I cut in without getting out of my chair. “Bill Atkins must have been dumped in the lake long before Mike was killed. And besides, you said the new warrant was for Atkins’ murder.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Jake,” Megan said and sat back down.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his own chair. “An anonymous witness called the sheriff’s office when he heard about Atkins on the news. He claims Bill was bragging about getting you into bed by playing along with a murder plot. Supposedly, you would split Mike’s insurance if Bill would make it look like an accident.”

I could see Megan turn red. “What? That’s an f-in lie. Why would someone make up such a lie?”

The lawyer didn’t seem surprised with Meg’s sudden foul mouth as I was. “But unless they can find the witness and get him to testify in court, they don’t have a case. George wouldn’t issue the warrant on hearsay.”

I jumped in before Megan could show us any more of her new vocabulary. “He called the sheriff’s office. Wouldn’t they be able to trace his call?”

“You’ve been watching too much television, Jake. That kind of equipment is way beyond the budget of Fremont County. But they do know the call came from a phone at the Pig’s Roast. The caller never turned off caller ID.”

Megan rose from her seat without trying to act sexy. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Ira. I would appreciate it if you keep us in the loop on any news. I’d really like to have a talk with this anonymous witness.” She then headed for the door.

Rosenblum rose to say goodbye, but Megan was already gone.

“It’s been a tough week for her, Ira. And we do appreciate all you’ve done,” I said and then ran after my sister.

“What was that all about, Meg,” I said when we were back on the road to her house.

She had been staring out her window in a daze, the way she use to do when we were kids on a road trip. “What do you mean?” she asked, turning her head toward me.

“Hey, none of my business,” I answered without looking at her. “I mean it was kind of obvious you were upset when Rosenblum brought up the witness.”

She went back to her window. “I need a drink, Jake. Pull in over there would you?” The sign on the tavern read, “Pig’s Roast.”

I pulled close to the front entrance into an empty parking space between two pickup trucks. The only other car in the lot was parked several yards from the front door, toward the side of the building. Before I had a chance to set the parking brake, Megan was headed for the door. It didn’t take me more than a millisecond to realize this was the infamous bar from where the anonymous witness had called in his false report, or so Bennet claimed. I didn’t say so at the time, but I had wondered if the deputy had made it all up. Maybe that was just paranoia on my part, for surely all incoming calls at the station must be recorded.

“Hold up, Meg,” I called out. “I’m sure they won’t sell all the beer before we get inside.”

She stopped short of going in and pointed at the other car in the lot. “That’s Linda’s piece of crap. Looks like you’re in luck, Porky.” Her pause gave me the time I needed to catch up with her.

I had visions of walking into a dingy bar with Linda serving drinks in a skimpy uniform. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. The place was as bright as a solarium, and the bartender was a bald guy who looked to be in his forties – not exactly my type. Megan spotted Amy, sitting alone at a table by a window that overlooked the lake. The entire lakeside wall was mostly windows allowing the sun to light up the bar. She must have been crying. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and her mascara was in streaks.

“Jake, would you get me a double anything?” Megan said and headed toward her friend.

“And ask Sam for another of whatever Amy is drinking.”

I assumed my sister was referring to the bartender. He was wiping down the bar with a dish cloth as he watched me approach. On closer inspection, I could see the telltale marks of a shaved scalp and an earring in his left ear. “You’re Megan’s brother, aren’t you?” he asked.

“That’s what our mother says. So, you must be Sam.”

He put his towel aside and offered his hand. He seemed to have a worried look about him. “Glad to meet you, Jake. I’m the owner of this sorry place.”

“Glad to meet you too, Sam. Although, I was hoping Linda would be in. Isn’t that her car out in the parking lot?” I asked and returned the handshake.