The Sleuth Sisters (9 page)

Chapter Twelve

Faye

Before I approached Susie Mason, a woman I didn’t know at all, I decided to check with Meredith to get the facts straight. It’s not that I don’t trust Retta. Well, maybe it is. She sees romance everywhere, probably due to her reading choices.

Meredith had just arrived home when I got there. The big cloth bag every teacher in the world seems required to carry sat on the kitchen table along with her purse, an umbrella, and something that looked vaguely like a ceramic ashtray I once made at summer camp.

“It’s a bird feeder,” she explained, following my glance. “They want to give you things.”

“And you’ll find a place for it.”

She raised her brows in a what-can-you-do grimace. “Have you found him?”

“No.” The look on her face made me wish I’d called first and avoided getting her hopes up. “I have a few more questions.”

Just then a kid who hadn’t yet got the hang of girl-walking clattered into the room. Her feet moved around each other clumsily, as if each wanted the other to fail. She stopped when she saw me, head tilting to one side in curiosity. The two looked a lot alike, right down to the tilt.

“Brooke, this is Mrs. Burner. She’s helping me with some work.”

“Hello.”

“Hi, Brooke.” I kept it short. To a kid, an adult is just someone they have to be polite to.

“I’m going to go over to Allie’s for a minute, okay?”

“Sure, hon, but watch the time. Supper’s at five.”

“What is it?”

Meredith appeared to think. “I can’t remember. It has something to do with pasta, I think. Maybe something with red sauce and cheese. What do they call that?”

“Lasagna!” Brooke’s face lit with delight. “Cool. Can Allie eat with us?”

“If her mom says it’s okay.”

Brooke was gone in a flurry of scuffs, rattles, and a bang as the door slammed behind her. Meredith frowned and smiled at the same time. “She always moves at full speed.”

“It’s the age,” I replied. “When they get a little older, you can’t speed them up.”

Her eyes stayed on the window and the disappearing child for a moment before she turned to me. “Allie’s mom says Brooke can stay with them when I go into the hospital. At least I’ve got that off my mind.”

I touched her arm gently. “It’s going to turn out all right. I just know it is.”

“Thanks.” She shook off her thoughts and asked, “Now, what do you need to know?”

“First, tell me how Neil and Stan Wozniak treated each other.”

“They were complete opposites. Neil doesn’t care about money and boardrooms and plaques from the Chamber of Commerce.”

“And Wozniak does.”

Meredith looked at her hands. “He cultivates this image of a self-made man who can run with the big dogs or walk with the common man. Some people eat it up.”

“So Neil didn’t like his father-in-law much.”

“He never said it out loud, but I sensed it.” Her sweet expression hardened. “After what he’s done to my brother’s reputation, I can’t say I like him much, either.”

“Sometimes in-laws make an effort for the sake of the person they both love.”

Meredith answered obliquely. “A while back I got Brooke two cats, thinking they’d be company for each other. One cat refuses to let the other anywhere near Brooke.”

“Neil’s father-in-law resented his influence over Carina.”

Opening the refrigerator, Meredith pulled out a casserole dish ready for the oven. “Stan resented her choosing a guy with a mind of his own.”

I was wondering if I had time to make lasagna for dinner. Hers looked really good. Sliding the dish into the oven she closed the door and twisted the timer button. “It wasn’t just that Neil didn’t have money. It was also that he wasn’t impressed by Stan’s wealth.”

A son-in-law who refused his offer of employment and his advice on how to get ahead in life. How much had that figured into Carina’s choice of husband? Apparently it had backfired. Carina couldn’t have guessed Neil would actually expect her to live on his paycheck.

Meredith wiped her hands on a towel. “I was afraid he’d wake up one day and realize she wasn’t what he wanted in a wife. What would he have done then, with a baby and all?”

I was wondering how far he’d have gone to escape the marriage, but Meredith saw it in my eyes. “He hadn’t come to that place, Mrs. Burner. Neil was still in love with Carina.” Her smile was a little sad. “When she found out she was pregnant, he was so happy. He bought her this necklace with their names on it. Even with the pressure to move to Detroit, he wasn’t mad at her. When she said he should get out if he wasn’t willing to make a good life for their baby, he came to ask me if I thought he was being selfish.”

Meredith wouldn’t—probably couldn’t—admit Neil might have come to the point of violence, so I changed the subject. “We asked you about Neil’s male friends, but I wonder if there were any women he was close to in the past.”

She thought about it. “The only other girl he ever dated was Susie, and that was over a long time before he married Carina.”

“Might he have gone to her for help?”

She thought about her answer. “Neil was a little uncomfortable with Susie. He never said why, but I figured it was because he broke it off with her when he met Carina. I think she still had feelings for him, even after she married John.”

“And that made things uncomfortable between them?”

She ran a hand down her sleek ponytail. “Neil pretty much steered clear of her unless John was around. I got the impression he was avoiding any appearance of wrongdoing.”

“Even when his marriage went sour?”

Meredith’s pretty face hardened. “Especially then. Neil wanted his wife back. He wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize that possibility.”

Susie Mason was leaving work, which was perfect. There was no one around to hear our conversation, and the day was nice enough that we could stand in the parking lot chatting without seeming out of place. I hoped the warm, sunny spot would put her at ease.

“I’m Faye Burner, of the Smart Detective Agency. Could I ask you a few questions?”

“About what?”

“Neil Brown.”

Her expression turned suspicious. “Did Margaretta send you?”

“Not exactly, but you probably know she’s my sister. We were talking today, and she mentioned you graduated with Neil. I did some digging and learned you two dated in school.” I handed her a business card. “We’re trying to locate Mr. Brown.”

“So you can throw him in jail for something he didn’t do?”

“Just the opposite. We hope to prove his innocence.”

Susie sighed. “There’s nothing I can tell you.”

“All right. Then can you give me your impression of Carina Wozniak?”

She made an ugly face. “You don’t want to hear that.”

“Actually, I do. If Neil didn’t kill his wife, there must be another reason for her murder.”

“Everyone in that family thought their money meant the rest of us should just bow down,” Susie said, her eyes hard. “Carina thought she was better than everyone in Allport. I didn’t know the brother, but I’ve heard the same thing about him.”

“What about the father? Might they have had a family squabble that turned out badly?”

She shook her head. “Stan was crazy about his kids. Neil said Carson was a screw-up, and he and his dad argued about money, but the old man never held a grudge for long.”

Interesting that Susie knew Neil’s opinion of his in-laws. “Someone saw a truck similar to Neil’s here around the time of the murders.”

Her gaze shifted like my sons’ used to when they lied. “It wasn’t Neil’s. I told them that.”

“Yes.” Moms know that if you want someone to say too much, shut up and let her talk. Susie was no gabby teen, though, and she remained silent. “Your name never has to come up.”

Her gaze turned away from me. “I can’t help you.”

Guessing she was trying to decide whether it was best to help those who might prove him innocent or to let Neil remain hidden, I gave her a little nudge. “Brooke needs her dad.”

Susie studied the concrete, repeating, “I can’t help you.” But before she moved past me to her car, she added, “If I was Neil, I’d have gone in the opposite direction the cops expected.”

She left then, but I took the statement as confirmation that Neil Brown had gone north, not south, and somehow Susie Mason knew it.

I returned home, anxious to tell Barb what I’d learned, but she’d left a note saying she’d be in late. Dale and I go to bed early, but I often hear her come in after midnight. It’s good she has a social life, though I’m not sure what it is. I hope whoever keeps my sister out nights knows she’s one classy dame for the likes of Allport.

Chapter Thirteen

Barb

“I can’t get over the idea he went to that lodge,” I said the next morning when Faye finished catching me up. “It’s isolated, and they’re used to strangers showing up.”

Faye tapped her pencil against her note pad. “Too bad we can’t talk to that Mr. Makala. The owner might remember a guest better than a guy who just worked there at the time.”

“Why can’t we talk to him?” When she looked at me in confusion, I said, “How many people can there be in Arizona named Haike Makala?”

Only one, it turned out once we’d figured out how to spell the name. It took most of the day to find that Haike resided at the Sweet Air Assisted Living Facility outside Flagstaff. Once we’d located him, another problem arose. “He’s able to talk,” the receptionist assured us, “but he doesn’t like to. Won’t have a phone in his room.”

“Let him know it’s about Buck Lake Resort,” I suggested.

We listened as the woman explained our call. There was a question, an answer, and grudging assent. Haike’s voice came in the booming tones of the almost deaf. “Hallo?”

“Mr. Makala, I’m from a detective agency in Michigan.”

“I don’t fish anymore,” he hollered. “Too shaky to bait the hook.”

“Michigan.” Faye raised her voice slightly. “I’m calling from Michigan.”

“Oh, Michigan, ya.”

“Mr. Makala, I’m a detective.”

There was a pause. “Did you say detective?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You sound like a woman.”

Faye grinned at me. “That’s correct.”

“And you’re a detective, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The music of the Upper Peninsula’s Finlanders’ speech rang in every phrase. “What does a lady detective want with an old coot like me?”

“I bet the ladies out there in Arizona like having an old coot like you around.” Faye’s tone conveyed warmth and gentle flirtation, which was why she was better with certain people than I. Faye took her time, while I tended to accost unsuspecting individuals, demanding information without benefit of social pleasantries. I’d been told it was unnerving, but I couldn’t help it if I prefered to skip the verbal silliness that passes for conversation. Faye said I was born impatient.

Faye let Mr. Makala flirt with her for a while, which was interesting, to say the least. There were misunderstandings and repetitions, but she spoke slowly and clearly, exaggerating her enunciation slightly. Finally she brought the conversation around to her purpose, explaining that we were hoping he would remember a certain guest. “But it was a long time ago.”

The old man chuckled. “I remember them all, eh? Every one had something made him different. One guy came every year with his cats. Can you imagine? Two cats, he’d bring to hunting camp. Another one used to bring his girlfriend for a week of fishing in the spring. Then in the fall, he brought his wife for deer season. Did that for ten years or more.”

Faye leaned her elbows on the desk as she asked the important question. “We’re interested in a man who came in 2008. He’d have been unprepared for hunting, maybe didn’t even have a vehicle.” We’d theorized that Neil might have hitchhiked across the U.P.

There was a pause, and when the old man spoke, his tone had cooled. “I don’t recall anyone like that. People come to a hunting lodge, they come ready to hunt.”

“You don’t remember one guy with no gear and no buddies?”

“Nope. Nobody like that.”

“That’s what Mr. Kimball said, but we thought your memory might be better than his, since you’d have registered the guy.”

“How’s Roger doing?”

Faye shrugged helplessly at me, brows raised. A man with one eye, one arm, and a hermit’s disposition? How would he be doing? “I guess he’s all right.”

“Roger’s a good fella.” Haike had a coughing fit that sounded awful, and I grimaced as we waited for him to speak again. “I never had nobody like what you said, and Roger wasn’t around then. He came down from Ishpeming the next spring.”

I frowned. Kimball had said he was working at Buck Lake that November. It was possible Haike’s memory was bad, but he seemed to have all his mental faculties. Why did they disagree on when Roger came to the lodge?

On impulse, I wrote Faye a quick note. “Mr. Makala,” she said after a quizzical glance at me, “how did Mr. Kimball lose the use of his arm?”

Another pause. “Some kind of accident. I don’t remember.”

Faye chatted for a while, thanked the old guy, and ended the call. “What was that about?”

“Just a thought.” I added stars to notes I’d been making. “If your nephew had an accident that left him severely disabled, you’d recall what happened, don’t you think?”

“It’s not something a person would forget.”

“And do you remember the paper Kimball used for tinder to build our fire?”

Frowning over the memory, Faye shrugged. “I remember there was paper.”

Tapping out a little fanfare with my pen, I said, “It was a guitar catalog.”

Faye still looked lost. “So?”

“Last time I knew, it took two hands to play.”

Finally her face showed understanding. “You’re saying Kimball is a fake.”

“Think about it. Brown somehow makes it to Buck Lake Resort and rents a cabin. He gets to know Makala, and they realize they can help each other out.” I spoke faster as things fell into place in my mind. “Makala wants to get away from the cold winters of the U.P. Brown has a wad of cash but nowhere to go. They work out a deal, and Brown becomes Haike’s nephew from Munising. The old guy gets to go to Arizona, and Neil gets a permanent place to hide.”

Faye twirled the pencil between her fingers. “Right. Neil starts the story from the time he arrived, but in Haike’s mind, it started later, when the character of Roger Kimball came to life.”

“They’d have had all winter to figure out how to make it work.”

“Brown changes his hair, gets a milky-looking contact lens, grows that awful beard, and fakes a crippled arm. It not only disguises him, but it keeps people at a distance, too.”

“But when no one’s around, he uses the arm. It’s just too inconvenient not to.”

Grinning widely, Faye leaned back in her chair. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“It means, Miss Smarty Pants, that we’re heading north again. Back to God’s country.”