Shelf Ice (24 page)

Ray allowed her last sentence to hang while he thought about his response. He noted for the first time how attractive she was, her short hair enhancing her delicate features.

“Ms. Janzen, I can’t tell you specifically what we will do. Detective Lawrence and I will have to discuss that. But I can tell you that we will start making some inquiries in the next few days and see where that leads us. There is no evidence of any criminal behavior, but I’ll see what we can find. I can’t tell you that we can necessarily solve this puzzle, but within the limits of the law we will do what we can.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. Do you think I should hire a private investigator?”

“That’s an option you might want to consider at some time. For now, why don’t you give us a few days? How long are you going to be in the area?”

“By next weekend I should be on my way back.”

“How about this,” said Ray. “Let’s meet on Friday afternoon and have a talk. Please give Sue the exact location of the storage building. And one more thing, would you stay away from your parents’ home and avoid any contact with Rod Gunne? This is a very sensitive case, and I like to keep things rather low key. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Friday,” said Ray, “about 2:00 in the afternoon.”

“I’ll be here,” Janzen said. “I can find my way out. Thank you for talking to me.”

After she was gone, Sue asked, “What are you going to know on Friday that you don’t know today?”

“Maybe nothing, but I wanted to get her promise that she wouldn’t be lurking about. We have enough complications.”

“What else?” asked Sue. “I can see something is really bouncing around that head of yours. Do I sense one of your cognitive leaps is bubbling to the surface?”

“I have this feeling that we’re almost there. We’re just not putting the pieces together.” Ray stopped and changed direction. “One more thing for your list, Sue. Just to be on the safe side, request a report on Kinver’s trailer. I’m going to run out for a bit and see if I can find Dell. He’s probably as much next to kin as anyone Kinver has.”

“Make sure you’re back in time for the press conference,” cautioned Sue.

“I will be. Promise.”

39.

Ray was rolling fast as he headed south on 22 toward Richard Kinver’s excavation business. He was thinking about two things, how to break the news of Kinver’s death to Dell and how much information to disclose at the news conference.

He had meant to check Dell’s house first before driving up to the gravel pit, but he had been so lost in thought that he only remembered it just as he was turning into the business. Ray circled the front of the main building and not seeing Dell’s truck, made a sweeping circle and headed back in the direction he’d come.

A few minutes later he pulled into Dell’s carefully cleared drive. He didn’t see Dell’s pickup truck, a vintage fire-engine red Chevrolet. He suspected that it was behind the closed garage doors at the rear of the house.

He walked to the front door. He could hear the television blaring from the interior. He knocked loudly, no answer. He knocked a second time, and when there was no response he pushed the door open and yelled, “Dell, are you here?”

Dell poked his head around the corner into the living room. “Oh, Ray, I thought I heard something. Come on in. And close the door. I’m not heating the outside.”

Ray walked through the dark interior of the living room toward the back of the house. Dell was in the kitchen. The volume on the television was still turned way up. Dell was struggling with the remote to get the sound turned down.

“Sorry about that, Ray. When I’m home alone I don’t bother to put my hearing aids in. So I’ve got to crank up the TV most of the way if I want to hear. Want some coffee?” Dell asked, as he fished his hearing aids out of his shirt pocket, and then put them in his ears.

 
“Not for me, thanks,” said Ray. “I’ve got something to tell you, and I need your help with a couple of things.”

“Something wrong?” asked Dell.

“It’s about Richard,” said Ray. “It appears that he’s been murdered.”

Dell’s body went limp, and he sagged into his chair. He said nothing.

“I am going to have a news conference later this afternoon. I wanted you to know before it was on television.”

“When did it happen?” asked Dell.

“Saturday morning. It took us a couple of days to get a positive identification.”

“I’m not following,” said Dell.

“Dell, Richard’s body, it had been burned beyond recognition. We had to rely on dental charts for positive identification.”

Dell pulled himself from his chair. He went over to the wood stove, opened the door, stirred the coals around, and carefully laid in a couple of chunks of split oak. He walked back to the table and sat down across from Ray. “Don’t know what to say. Richard, he wasn’t the best person in the world, not the worst, either. But murder and fire. I don’t see how he ever deserved that.”

“I don’t understand either,” said Ray. “You feel up to answering a couple questions?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“You know where Richard’s been living lately?”

“Well, sometime in the late summer or fall he moved into the trailer up at the yard. That’s after he lost the house to the bank. But then by winter he didn’t seem to be using it anymore. I asked him about it, and he just sort of laughed. You know, he always treated me like a dumb old man. Like I didn’t know what was going on, like my eyes and brain weren’t working anymore. I mean, I don’t hear too well, but I think everything else is still there. And what Richard didn’t seem to understand was I’ve seen a hell of a lot of life.”

“So, Dell, if he wasn’t living in the trailer, have any idea where he might have been staying?”

“Ray, Richard prided himself on being the cock of the walk. There were always women coming around looking for him. I imagine he was just bedding down with one of them, maybe more.”

“Dell, did you tell me that Richard couldn’t drive the Oshkosh?”

“Richard could drive it,” said Dell, “that is, after a fashion he could drive it. I mean he could get it in gear and go backwards and forwards, but he could never plow with it. The hydraulics, they were pretty shot, and he could never get the hang of the belly blade. He tried using it once around the shop in the winter, that heavy snow the first week of November. He just made a mess.”

“Anyone else know how to drive the Oshkosh?”

“ It’s just the two of us, Ray. Everyone else’s been laid off since August.”

“Did Richard ever show anyone else the Oshkosh or let anyone else drive it?”

“I don’t think so, not when I was around.”

“Dell, you are known as one of the best diesel mechanics around. Did you ever work on a Bluebird?”

“What are you talking about Ray, a bus? I worked on a couple that the school district owned. That was way back, maybe 30 years ago, maybe more.”

“No,” said Ray. “I’m talking about a large RV, something you might have done in the last year or two.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about. Richard dragged me over to look at this big RV. It was in a huge storage barn. The owner couldn’t get it started. I’m not sure it had been run in several years. It was an old Travelodge. And you’re right, that was made by the Bluebird.”

“What happened?” asked Ray.

“It needed a lot of work. I told them I’d have to have parts and diagrams and some manuals. I called down to the company, and they weren’t much help. That part of the business has been closed down. So the old guy that owns it, he didn’t want to mess with it. He bought something new.”

“So what do you think, the man drove away for the winter?”

“Well that’s the interesting part. He seemed to be in bad health. So Richard drove the man and his wife somewhere, I think he said Arizona. Richard told me he got paid plenty for doing the driving and an airplane ticket back. He said the guy even put him up in a hotel in Vegas as thanks. And Richard said he was also being well paid to look after the man’s house during the winter.”

“The man you’re talking about, did you get his name?” asked Ray.

“No, I don’t think we were ever introduced. I only saw him once.”

“Do you know if Richard had any relatives in the area?”

“No,” said Dell. “The old folks are long gone, his dad died about 15 years ago and his mom in the last couple. I’m not sure about the rest of the family. But at the funeral I bet you’ll see a whole line of grieving women.” Then he chuckled.

40.

Ray made it back to the office just in time for the press briefing. Sue was already in the conference room chatting with the reporters when he arrived. There were only three reporters, two print—one from the regional daily and one from the county monthly—and one television reporter, with her cameraman.

Sue had produced a carefully written press release. Ray read that release and then answered questions, turning many of them over to Sue.

As soon as the briefing was over, Sue indicated with some urgency that they needed to talk.

“What’s going on?” asked Ray.

“Molly Birchard has gone missing.”

“What?” said Ray.

“I called her cell phone, and there was no answer, so I left a message. Then I walked over to dispatch to see if they have any other contact information for her, like her mother’s phone number. Molly was on the day shift this weekend, but she didn’t show up for work yesterday. She didn’t call in, and they haven’t been able to reach her. I called her mother, who was less than forthcoming in providing any information about the whereabouts of her daughter. I asked her if I could come visit her about five, and she agreed. I want you to come with me.”

“So she worked Saturday,” said Ray. “She would’ve known about Richard Kinver, or at least about his truck with the strong suspicion that it was Kinver’s body that we found inside.”

“That was my thought,” said Sue. “Am I chauffeuring you again?”

“Absolutely. I’m really getting into having a driver,” said Ray.

Ruth Birchard’s house was on the south edge of the village in an area of the township beyond the village limits. It was one of a scattering of homes—mostly modulars, doublewides, and trailers—along a narrow twisting country road. Sue pulled into a small drive behind a large rusting Oldsmobile. The house, one story, with faded yellow siding, sagged into the side of a hill. Plastic geraniums, bleached to a whitish-pink, poked through a snow-covered flowerbox under a picture window.

Ruth Birchard pushed open a wooden storm door and held it for Sue and Ray as they entered the small, cluttered living room. “You want to come into the kitchen?” she asked. “We can sit at the table there and talk.” She didn’t wait for an answer; she just led them to the adjoining room. There was already a coffee pot and two cups with saucers on the table. She brought a third to the table as they settled. She poured coffee without asking them whether they wanted any.

Ray looked across the table at Ruth. Although he did not believe he had ever met her, she looked vaguely familiar. He noted that there was a striking similarity between Ruth and her daughter, Molly. Her face was deeply lined, her brown-gray hair, dull. Ray sensed anxiety and despair.

“We need your help,” said Sue. “We need to know what’s happened to Molly, where she is.”

Birchard was slow in responding. It appeared that she was thinking about what she was going to say. “Is she in some kind of trouble?” she finally asked.

“She’s not in trouble with us,” responded Sue. “But she may be in some kind of trouble. As you know, her best friend was murdered. The sheriff and I have never believed that she’s been totally truthful with us about what she might know about Brenda Manton’s death. Now there is a second murder, it might be related to the first…”

“Second murder?” Ruth asked, the tension rising in her voice.

“Yes,” said Sue. “Richard Kinver. It happened this weekend. It will be on the news tonight.”

A long silence followed. Finally, Birchard responded, “Oh my God.”

“Do you know Richard Kinver?” asked Sue.

“I’ve known him for a long time,” she answered, her voice weary. “He started messing with Molly when she was in junior high. That’s when she started hanging out with the wrong kids; he was at the center of the group. He was older, maybe a junior or senior. I knew he was trouble from the instant I saw him. I’ve always blamed Richard for getting her started with drugs, sex too.

“I don’t think that she would have made it through high school if she hadn’t gotten that scholarship to Leiston School. They had a special program back then to bring some local kids to the school. Molly was so good in art and writing, and not that bad of a student, either. Having a chance to go to Leiston really changed her life. She got to know some nice kids from all over the world, and it got her away from Richard, at least during the school year. But as soon as she was home for the summer, he was always hanging around.” She sagged in her chair and looked defeated.

“After Leiston she got a scholarship to college, and things were going good for her. But then she had a bad marriage and moved back here, so I could help her look after her son. She’s a really good potter, but how do you make a living doing that?” She paused for a long moment. “This job with the county was a good thing for her, a real lifeline.”