Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October (21 page)

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CHAPTER

SIXTY

I was surprised to see Daisy’s car as we drove up to the office. I wasn’t surprised that she was on the phone. We heard her as we opened the front door.

“Yes old Roland was found dead in his front yard and Dash’s client is being questioned. I can’t tell you who. Yes, I’ll keep you posted,” Daisy said as we stood in front of her desk.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Daisy stood up. She looked like Sam when he’s caught with one of my shoes.

“Mom, you know not to discuss office business with your friends,” Dash said.

“I didn’t tell Phyllis anything she couldn’t read in the paper. I didn’t name any names.”

“Daisy, do you know anything about an anti-Jewish group in this area?” I interrupted Dash and his mother’s quarrel. No sense shutting her up when we were looking for information.

“Well, sort of. Why do you want to know?”

“Never mind why we want to know about this. What have you heard?” Dash was quickly losing patience.

“Well, the Rabbi met with the synagogue board a couple of weeks ago. Mary, I’m the head of the caring committee. I make visits to people who are ill or have had a death in the family.”

“Never mind that. What happened at the board meeting?” Dash asked.

“The Rabbi told us there had been some incidents. A swastika painted on the door and garbage left in the vestibule. One window was broken another time and someone pinned a note to the door saying Jews weren’t wanted in the Upper Valley.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Dash asked. I could see that his hands were trembling.

“Because the Rabbi told us to keep it quiet. He said it was best if we kept a low profile. Some of the members repaired everything. The consensus was that if this were broadcast, then other copycat crimes would occur. Everyone thought it was just kids who didn’t know better.”

“I can’t believe that you kept this to yourself,” Dash said.

“What’s happened? Is there going to be trouble?” Daisy asked.

“Not going to be. There is.” I said.

“I’m going to call Rabbi Goldblatt. I want to talk to him right away.” Dash went to the phone in his office.

“You can’t call him now,” Daisy called after him. “It’s dinner time.”

Within minutes Dash and I were back in his car on the way to meet with Rabbi Goldblatt.

“We need to warn him so he’s prepared if the FBI decides to question his members. He may know who would have a motive to go after Roland. Maybe he even knew about the Nazi group.” Dash said.

My mind was whirling. My half Jewish side was sickened by what we had seen in Roland’s basement. Being raised in Miami, I had never experienced this kind of religious hatred. Of course, there are small minded people in Miami who resent immigrants, but this was a different kind of hatred, one that should have died with the worldwide pain of the Holocaust.

Now I was on the way to meet with a rabbi. I hadn’t done that since I was twelve years old. For a while I attended two religious schools until I called a halt to the tug of war between my parents’ and grandparents’ background and decided that organized religion was not in my future.

“Mary, we’re here. Come on,” Dash said.

We walked up to a pretty white frame house with green shutters that looked like it belonged on the set of a movie about New England. A gray-haired man dressed in sweater and slacks opened the door before we could knock. He smiled at us and ushered us into a cozy library. Dash introduced me and I shook hands with Rabbi Goldblatt who looked a lot like my Uncle Max.

“Well, it’s lovely to see you, Dash. I haven’t seen much of you lately, except of course at Yom Kippur services. Is your mother well?” Rabbi Goldblatt asked.

“Yes, she’s fine.”

“So is this about you two, you and Mary? Maybe you have some good news to tell me.”

“No, Rabbi, it’s not good news. Mary is a lawyer from Miami who’s been helping me with some cases. Today we uncovered something that I must warn you about. You probably know that Roland Behr is dead. He was shot and found in his yard.”

“Yes, I heard. One shouldn’t speak badly of the dead, but I have to say, he was an unsavory person.”

“Rabbi, did you know that Roland had a Nazi group meeting in his home?”

“I didn’t know that’s where it was.” The rabbi sighed and looked as if he might cry. “I have heard for some time that there was a neo-Nazi group somewhere in our area. We had some incidents at the temple. Some members have reported various rumors to me. I finally called on the U.S. Attorney and asked him to investigate.”

“Is it possible that any of your congregation could be under suspicion? The FBI is opening an investigation into this group and Roland’s murder.” I asked the hard question, hoping to get Dash off the hook.

“Anything is possible. Of course, there is Franz. You remember him, don’t you, Dash? Franz Goldstein? He’s a Holocaust survivor. But he hardly goes out anymore.”

“What about his family, his son and grandchildren?” Dash asked.

“His son works in New York and comes up here about once a month. His grandson and wife work in this area. In fact the grandson, Jeff, is one of the people that passed on rumors about a Nazi group operating in this area. He was pretty upset.”

“It’s up to you whether you want to give anyone a warning that they might be questioned,” Dash said. We just thought it best to give you some time to prepare for what may come out of this whole event.”

Dash stood up and we began to inch our way to the door. The rabbi followed and thanked us repeatedly for coming directly to him. The aching feeling in the bottom of my stomach was growing as I flashed back to Roland Behr’s basement.

“Dash, can you drop me at home, please, I think I’ve had it for today.”

I waved goodbye to Dash and hurried inside. Sam was barking as I opened the door. He had bent the bars on his crate door and was lying next to the back door.

“Bad boy,” I yelled. I need that crate for traveling back to Miami. What have you done?”

Sam rubbed his big head against my legs and made his moaning noises. I realized that I was being unfair to him, leaving him holed up in a strange place.

“We’ve had enough of this crazy place. We need to go back to Miami. I promise, we’ll go soon,” I said.

I went to the fridge and pulled out some leftover chicken and ham. I made myself a sandwich and filled Sam’s dish with the rest of the chicken for a special treat. I opened a beer for my special treat, and snapped on the TV. The news carried Roland Behr’s suspicious death and a short blurb about a Dartmouth coed who was alleged to have been kidnapped by locals in the Upper Valley. The announcer was saying, “this normally tranquil area has been shaken by two crimes in the same week.”

I was reminded to call Lillian and check on Sherry. It seemed a month since we found her, but it was less than twelve hours ago.

Brett answered Lillian’s phone. Lillian and Sherry were resting. Then he lowered his voice.

“Mary, we’re going to be packing Sherry’s stuff in her dorm room tomorrow and shipping everything back to Miami, but Sherry doesn’t want to leave until she visits that animal, Paul, in jail. Mother is dead set against it.”

“Maybe Sherry needs closure, or maybe she just wants to tell him what a pig he is. Either way, maybe it’s best to let her get this off her mind so she can look ahead.”

“I’ll tell mother what you think. She usually listens to you.” Brett said.

As soon as I hung up, Dash called to say that Curtis Lemay had let him know that he was on his way down here along with FBI agents. He had decided to start this investigation himself, and would be calling on the lawyer who found Roland first thing in the morning. He also said that he wanted to talk to Ken Upham. I told Dash I’d be ready to sit with Ken.

I sat down on the comfy sofa and was half asleep when Sam began to bark and jump at the back door. “Haven’t we had enough excitement for one day?” I asked as I got into my boots and coat and grabbed my flashlight. I hooked Sam’s leash on him as he pulled me through the door.

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CHAPTER

SIXTY-ONE

As soon as we galloped into the back yard, Sam began to pull me toward the path through the woods. I really didn’t want to take a hike in the dark, but I didn’t have a choice. As long as I held tight to the leash, my eighty pound dog was in charge of our flight pattern.

I shined the flashlight on the semi-path through the woods that connected to Carolyn Brousseau’s property. Now that Carolyn’s killers were safely locked up, I wasn’t worried about confronting a killer, but I also didn’t think this foray into the woods was in pursuit of some wild life. Once and for all, I wanted to catch whoever had taken up residency in the Brousseau house. No one else seemed to care. I wasn’t even sure why I cared. Maybe it was just lawyer’s curiosity.

We came onto the Brousseau property on the side of the barn that served as a garage. I pulled Sam in that direction and eased the door open a crack. I shined the light inside the door and saw the black Subaru parked inside. “That means the intruder is at home,” I said.

We approached the house. One small light was on in the kitchen. I tried the back door. It was unlocked. As we entered, Sam barked loudly and began pulling me through the kitchen. I thought I heard a door slam somewhere above us. The knife rack stood on the kitchen counter. Instinctively I pulled out a large carving knife as Sam began to pull me to the back stairway.

The bedroom doors were open and nothing looked disturbed. I walked into the hall bathroom and saw that the tub had water droplets on the tile surrounding it. At least the intruder is clean, I thought.

Sam sniffed as we went down the long hallway. He stopped at the door that was locked when I stayed in the house. I tried it now and it was still locked. Sam pawed at the door.

“Okay,” I yelled. “Come out of there now. I’m armed and I’ve got a police dog.” My hand holding the knife was shaking. What a stupid idea this was. I started to turn away from the door, but Sam jerked hard on his leash and jumped against the door.

The door flew open. A young guy stepped out. He was wearing shorts and a stained tee shirt. The stains were dark red and the idea of blood raced through my addled mind. He wore glasses. His eyes looked startled behind the glasses. All of these details were obscured by what was in his hands; the largest rifle I had ever seen.

“Don’t shoot my dog,” I screamed. “What are you doing in this house?” In my panic I dropped the knife.

“What are you doing in my house?” the gun holder shouted back.

“I asked you first,” I said.

“Don’t fool with me.” The rifle pointed from Sam to me. “What police agency are you with, or are you a private investigator?”

“I’m not the police. I’m an attorney from Florida, visiting here. My name is Mary Katz. Who the hell are you?”

I’m Tom Brousseau. I own this house. You’ve got a lot of nerve barging in here again. I know you were using my house.”

“If you will please lower that elephant gun, I’ll explain why I was in your house.”

I watched the man who said he was Tom hesitate and then lower the gun. If he was actually Tom Brousseau what was with the hiding in the attic and cat and mouse game he’d been playing with me?

“Okay. I’m a good friend of Lucy Stern. Her grandmother left her the house down the road. She let me use the house for a vacation and I got lost and thought this house was hers. I left as soon as I saw the mail on the hall table with the Brousseau name on it.”

“That story is unbelievable. You’re really here to arrest me. Tell me the truth,” the man said.

“Your story is not believable. Why are you hiding in your own house, if you really are Tom. I am the furthest thing from law enforcement. I’m a criminal defense attorney. I defend people who are arrested. I don’t arrest them.”

Sam had begun to wag his tail. Tom, if that was his name, reached over and petted him.

“Let me get my wallet and show you some ID. Come with me”. He pointed to the door he had popped out of.

I saw a stairway leading up. “That’s okay. I’ll wait right here,” I said.

“Oh come on. This whole situation is actually funny,” he said.

“Well, what are those stains all over your shirt?”

“You’ll see in a minute.” He started up the stairs.

I bent over and retrieved the carving knife. Then Sam and I followed him up the stairs. We entered a large attic. Windows looked out of three sides of the room. An astonishing sight explained the stains. Colorful paintings lined the whole room. Some were propped up on easels. Others leaned against walls or sat propped on chairs. There was a half- finished work and fresh paints on a large easel near one of the windows.

“You’re a painter. I mean an artist.” I mumbled

The paintings depicted autumn scenes in the area. There were also snow scenes and pictures of barns. Figures of children appeared in several of the works.

“These are magnificent. Where do you exhibit? Are you in any galleries?”

The artist was holding out some cards. “Here are my ID’s. Please look at them.”

“They all say Thomas Brousseau., but why are you hiding in your own house?”

“I know it seems crazy. Sheriff Parsons believes that I killed my own mother, and I think half this village does too. He questioned me even before my mother’s funeral. I figured I owned the house and no one would look for me right under their noses. I guess I panicked.

“I always wanted to have my studio in this house and do nothing but paint. The whole hiding thing just sort of fell into place I thought I’d stay in the house for a few weeks and get my bearings. I thought about going to France to paint and study, but I figured the sheriff would have people watching airports. Then I started painting and I got comfortable here. I concentrated on just doing my paintings. I never had that luxury before.”

“First of all, questioning you was just routine. Police always start with family members and you seem to be the only family left. Didn’t Dash explain that to you?”

“You know Dash? I thought he was against me too. Half of this town hates the Brousseaus because my dad sold the mill to people who moved it to China. Everyone lost their jobs and they blamed me for that.”

“Why would they blame you? You didn’t sell the mill.”

“Father sold it because I refused to work there and take it over. I’m not a business man. All I ever wanted to do was paint and draw. My father thought that was a waste of time.”

“Okay, Tom, I have a big news flash for you. This week the killers of your mother were arrested.”

“Are you serious? Who are they?”

“Francie Wallace, your family’s housekeeper and her son Otis and Paul Conrad.”

“I can’t believe it. I knew Francie was very upset about her husband losing his job. I guess she blamed my family for his suicide but killing my mother, good God.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot more to their story, but you’ll never find out if you don’t come out of this hermit existence and rejoin the world. You could have saved yourself a year of grief. When you disappeared. it just added to Sheriff Parson’s suspicion. If you had stuck around, maybe he would have found the real killers sooner. I wish that had happened because these same bad guys kidnapped a lovely young woman who I know quite well, and she almost lost her life.”

“You mean Francie did that too? What about our dog?”

“What do you mean?”

“Another reason the sheriff thought I did it, you know murdered Mother, was because our dog would have barked and carried on if a stranger broke in. The dog was missing when they found mother.”

“I guess the dog knew the housekeeper. Maybe now that Francie is in jail, you can find out about the dog. Can we go downstairs and continue this conversation?”

“Oh, sorry, of course we can. Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

We headed down the attic stairs and the back stairs to the kitchen. Tom lit the flame under the tea kettle and produced an assortment of teas. He gave Sam a cracker and put a plate of crackers and jam on the kitchen table.

“What I don’t understand is how you managed to live undetected up here,” I said, “especially, when this place is filled with nosey people who know everything about everybody.”

“It wasn’t that difficult. It’s so remote up here that no one sees who’s up here. You stayed in the house without anyone seeing that you were in the wrong house. I took the car out at night and drove to different towns to shop for supplies. I got my mail at a post office box in Randolph, about forty-five minutes away, or at my friend’s place on the Cape. The solitude and luxury of painting full time was wonderful.”

“Was that you that took a shot at me on the road?”

“I wasn’t shooting at you, just trying to scare you, hoping you’d go away.”

“You were stalking me, weren’t you?’

“I was trying to find out who you were. I was sure that you were brought here to investigate me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in Lucy’s house. I guess I became paranoid. And when I saw Sam, I thought he was a K-9 police dog.”

“You’ve got to reintegrate into this community if you want to continue to paint here. Start tomorrow by going to see Dash.”

“Will you come with me?” Tom looked like one of my scared juvenile clients.