Witness (12 page)

“But…they found a car today? I don’t get it. How did they connect it to the crime?”

“The police were notified yesterday by the airport parking lot manager. Nick was assigned to check it out. He and I made the connection from our interviews in the neighborhood last week. Someone had seen a car that matched this one’s description.”

“Where has the car been for the last two or three weeks?”

“Sitting in the short-term parking lot at the airport, I guess. The ticket from the lot was on the visor over the driver’s seat. It was parked there the eighteenth.”

They sat down, and Joe asked the blessing. Petra thought about the new evidence as she took a bite of her sandwich. “Did they find any fingerprints on the car or the ticket?”

“All I’ve heard so far is none on the steering wheel. The airport manager thinks it’s strange it was left there but not critical, now that the cops have checked to make sure there was no bomb in the trunk. Just a nuisance for him. But if it’s broadcast on the six o’clock news tonight, Harwood should find it very interesting,” Joe said.

“Why would they broadcast something like that? It’s hardly newsworthy.”

“I know, but a reporter showed up while Nick and a couple other officers were going over the car. The airport had a bomb scare not long ago.”

Petra nodded. “I remember. You sound sure that Rex has something to do with this car.”

“I think it’s a good possibility,” Joe said.

“You mean…the body. Wait a minute, there wasn’t a body in the car, was there?”

“My first thought, too, but no.”

“Then what?” Petra asked. “He used this car to get rid of it?”

“It makes sense. He made sure the body was out of the house and not near enough for the police to notice the car that night. Her car might have been in his driveway when he killed her, but he moved it before the police arrived.” Joe picked up half his sandwich. “Right now, authorities in Nova Scotia are trying to locate the owner. Nick called me an hour ago and said that so far they haven’t been able to do that, but they’re still trying.”

“The owner of the car lives in Nova Scotia?”

“Yeah.”

Petra shook the bottle of salad dressing. “Strange.”

“Petra, I’m sorry to worry you with all this, but I thought you should know. I’ve been trying to find something connecting Rex to Nova Scotia.”

She nodded. “Could be a colleague in the academic world.”

“Maybe.” Joe put a small pile of vegetables on his plate and scowled at the bottle of low-calorie French dressing.

“I may have a bottle of ranch in the back of the fridge.” Petra stood and opened the refrigerator.

“Rex has been waiting for this news to come out for weeks,” Joe said. “Something to do with the body or the car. I mean, if he left the car there, he’s been waiting for someone to try to locate the owner. He’s probably been biting his nails to the quick wondering what’s taking so long.”

“Why would he want the police to find it?”

“To put an end to the waiting. If the case is treated as a standard missing persons case, he’ll breathe easy.”

“Why?”

“The car is too new to be abandoned intentionally unless it’s connected to a crime or an accident. Right now the assumption is that the driver should have parked in the long-term lot but wasn’t thinking and left it in short-term by mistake. Or possibly the driver took a flight out of Portland, got delayed somewhere and couldn’t come back for the car as planned. But if it gets out that detectives found human hair in the trunk of the car…”

She slammed the refrigerator door and faced him with the bottle in her hand. “Did they?”

He flinched. “I’m sorry. Should have broken that a little more gently, I guess. But, yes, Nick Wyatt found several human hairs on the carpet in the trunk—more than you would normally expect to find there. Follicles intact, and the lab thinks they can use the DNA.”

“Yeah, that would worry Rex, all right.”

Joe nodded. “Nick is in charge of the case now. If this goes where I think it’s going, you’ll be his star witness when Harwood goes to trial. And Harwood will realize that. So you need to be extremely careful until this investigation is over.”

She shivered. “But…are they going to arrest him?”

“Not yet. They don’t have enough evidence to even say for sure there was a murder. Nick’s trying to keep it quiet until they do. Nobody on Harwood’s street seems to have seen the car at his house, but it was noticed later in the evening, down the block. If Harwood gets an inkling of what the police suspect, he’ll get nervous. Petra, you’ve got to take some precautions.”

Her knees wobbled, and she sat hard. “I can’t believe they finally found some evidence.”

“Possible evidence. Could be nothing.”

Her appetite had fled, but Joe continued to eat his sandwich. When he finished, he eyed his portion of salad for a moment, then reached for the ranch dressing with a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to eat that.”

“I want to. Really.”

She smiled, but sobered as her thoughts returned to the murder and the abandoned car. “Makes me feel a little jumpy.”

“I debated on whether to tell you or not, and I decided you need to know. Petra, I’d feel a lot better if you moved to Waterville now. Tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“You know I have to work.”

“Call in sick.”

She winced and looked down. “I can’t do that. I mean, they’re so shorthanded as it is, and now I’m quitting. I feel a strong obligation to finish out my notice.”

“Okay.” He stabbed a forkful of greens, looked at it for a second, and shoved it into his mouth. Petra almost laughed.

He coaxed her into finishing her meal, and when she put their few dishes into the dishwasher, he came to stand close to her.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Please come to Waterville tonight.”

“No.”

He nodded. “That’s what I expected you to say. All right, I’m going to make you a hotel reservation.”

“Joe, that’s not necessary.”

“You got the locks changed, right?”

“Yes.”

“I still think you should go to Waterville. Pack a bag, and I’ll take you to your sisters’.”

“Oh, stop it! I have to be at the hospital at seven tomorrow morning. You said Rex will lie low and wait to see how the police react when they find the car, and how the media presents it.”

“Fine. You want to watch the news? It’s almost time. Let’s turn it on.”

His dark eyes held a challenge. She inhaled deeply and led the way to the living room. They sat together on the couch, and she turned up the volume when the local anchor came on the screen. They listened carefully through the major headlines and local events. The weatherman gave his report, and the sportscaster began his. Near the end of the broadcast, the anchor gave the merest mention of a mysterious found car at the airport. “The car was searched, and nothing dangerous was uncovered. The police have impounded the car and are still trying to locate the owner in Canada.”

Petra hit the off button and turned to Joe, her eyebrows raised.

His square jaw seemed to protrude more than usual. “Okay, so they treated it like it was nothing. I still don’t like you staying here. You don’t even have Mason.”

“But Rex will think he’s safe now. If that was the way he got rid of the body, he’s sitting over there thinking,
Yes! I did it!
”

“Doubt it. He’s still trying to second-guess the police and you.” Joe got up and walked to the patio door. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking across toward the back of the big brick house.

Petra went to stand beside him. “What are you thinking?”

“I need to see inside that room.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

She seized his wrist, suddenly afraid. “Joe, you can’t go sneaking around over there. That would really upset him. That could even get you in trouble.”

“The drapes are open.” Joe stooped and pulled the broomstick out of the track on her doorframe. “Let’s go out on the deck.”

“What if they see us staring?”

“I haven’t seen any movement in there. They’re probably not home.”

Petra’s nerves flared as he unlocked the door and stepped outside.

Joe leaned on the railing, peering intently at the other house. Petra looked around, but saw no one else in the neighborhood who might be able to see them. Still, her pulse raced.

“You said the woman was holding something, and after he choked her, he picked it up.”

“That’s right,” Petra said. “He put it on a shelf.”

“Can you see it now?”

“I…” She squinted toward Harwood’s glass door. “I’m not sure. It was on the left, up high. Do you see something like a vase?”

“I’ve got binoculars in my car.” Joe straightened.

“No! All we need is for them to see us spying on them with binoculars. Rex would have
me
arrested.”

Joe frowned. “I’m going over there.”

Petra felt as though her heart took a momentary leave of absence. “You are not!”

“They don’t know me from Adam.”

“What if Mrs. Harwood saw you talking to the neighbors last week?”

“I didn’t go with Nick when he checked her out, and I was careful when we went around the neighborhood.”

She swallowed hard. “What will you do?”

“Ring the bell. Tell them I’ve read all the professor’s articles, which I have, and would love to talk to him about his method of dating porcelain artifacts.”

She eyed him for a long moment. “You think you could pull it off, don’t you?”

“I know I could.”

“You’d pass yourself off as a scientist?”

Joe shook his head and guided her back into the living room. “I’m not going to lie to him. I’ll represent myself truthfully, as an interested amateur. Academics love to talk about their pet subjects. I’m his biggest fan, and I’ve been wanting to meet him. He’ll practically give me his lecture course for free.”

She took a careful breath. Her chest hurt. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No. Either he’ll let me in and we’ll be best buddies in ten minutes, or he’ll slam the door in my face. Assuming he’s home. If he’s not…”

“If he’s not, you come right back here. Immediately.”

Joe pursed his lips and shrugged. “There’s one thing I want you to do.”

“I’m not going over there.”

“No, I wouldn’t ask you to. But I’m going to get my binocs. You can stand here behind your curtains with them and watch. If you see me in there, you pay attention. I’ll try to get him to show me the things on the shelves. You watch, so you can tell me which one the woman was holding when he killed her.”

“You…” She bit her lip.

“It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You’ll mess up any fingerprints on it.”

“True. But I have a feeling he wiped it off that night, anyway. And if you see the one she was holding, call me on my cell phone. I’ll use it as an excuse to leave.”

She felt a sudden desperation that frightened her.
If anything happens to Joe…

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

He bent close and whispered in her ear. “Nope, but you can pray for me.”

J
oe parked at the curb in front of Harwood’s house and got out of his car. He had considered walking over from Petra’s house, but if the professor saw him arrive on foot and wondered where his car was…Nope. Better to let his vehicle be seen than to risk being linked to Petra.

He eyed the brick house as he ambled up the walk. It could use a little maintenance; the shutters needed repainting and one drainpipe had disconnected from the gutter. But it was a nice house, probably at least fifty years old, and the front lawn and perennial beds looked cared for. He pushed the doorbell and looked around.

The door opened, and Joe turned with a smile in place. A woman of about fifty faced him, her gray hair escaping from beneath a limp bandanna. She wore a calico apron over slacks and a knit top.

“Mrs. Harwood?”

“Yes.” She looked down her nose at Joe, and he smiled bigger.

“Would the professor be home this evening?”

She looked him up and down. Joe was glad he’d worn a suit.

“And what is your business with him, may I ask?”

“My name is Joe Tarleton. I live up in Waterville, and I was down here on business today. I’ve been wanting to meet Professor Harwood. I’m a great admirer of his work, and I took a chance of coming by and possibly finding him home. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Actually, he is at a faculty meeting tonight. They’re starting summer classes Monday.”

“Ah.” Joe grimaced. “That’s too bad. I’ve read all Professor Harwood’s articles, and I was so hoping I’d have a chance to talk to him about the expedition he’s making this summer.”

“Are you an archaeologist?”

“No, but I’ve been interested in it since I was a kid. I’ve been reading up on the ruins in Morocco. That is going to be a fascinating trip.”

“I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you,” she said.

Joe turned on the high-voltage smile. “I don’t suppose he’ll be speaking in the Waterville area soon? I would just love to catch one of his talks. In fact, I’d drive down here to hear him.”

“Well…he often speaks in the Portland area, and I believe he’s going to Camden next week.” She stepped aside. “Why don’t you step in? I’ll get you a copy of his schedule. If you can attend one of his lectures, I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to meet him afterward. Most of the societies he speaks to hold a reception after.”

“Oh, that would be terrific.” Joe grinned and stepped into the entry. “I appreciate your doing that for me. It would—Oh!” He looked around the foyer and focused on a pottery mask displayed on the wall. “Is that one of the professor’s artifacts?”

“It’s a copy of a find his crew made in Mali. One of his favorite pieces. They sell copies in the gift shops at the Portland Museum of Art and the Maine State Museum.”

“Indeed? That is just gorgeous.” He glanced about, orienting himself. “This is a lovely home, Mrs. Harwood.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll just get that schedule, if you’ll excuse me. I believe he has copies in his study.”

She left him, and Joe tiptoed a few steps toward what he calculated was the door to the family room on the back of the house. Sure enough, there were the glass doors and the big-screen TV.

“Here you go, Mr. Tarleton.”

Joe whirled. She’d moved faster than he’d anticipated, even though she’d taken a second to remove the apron.

“Excuse me. I couldn’t resist taking a peek at your charming living room.”

“Oh, we have a formal living room. This is what folks call a family room. We relax in here.”

“I can see why. It’s beautiful, but cozy. And the pictures! Are those your children?” He gestured toward several framed photographs hung above a spinet piano.

“Yes, those are our three. And, of course, we have grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren?” He smiled and shook his head. “I bet they’re wonderful.”

“Oh, yes. We don’t get to see them nearly often enough.” She stepped down into the room, and Joe followed. “This is Caleb.” She took a small pewter-framed picture from a shelf. “He’s nine, and he plays soccer.”

“Handsome boy,” Joe said.

“And this is his sister, Madison. She’s seven, and just the brightest little thing you ever saw.”

“Oh, she’s adorable.”

Mrs. Harwood smiled and replaced the frame on the shelf. Joe pointed to a vase. “Now, that looks similar to some pieces that were recovered on the Crete expedition.”

“Right you are.” She smiled at him. “You weren’t kidding me when you said you’ve followed Rex’s career.”

Joe shrugged. “I’ve always admired people who do the kind of work your husband does. Do you ever go with him on his trips?”

“Why, yes, I usually go out for at least a few weeks.” She was beaming now, and Joe kept the eye contact and smile wattage going. “I get right down in the dirt with the students and sift for bits and pieces.”

“Must be great fun. I’ll bet you’re a big help to the professor. You know, I’d love to go on one of those digs and help discover new artifacts.”

“Well, a lot of adults take summer classes. It’s the advanced students who get to go on these trips. Graduate students, mostly. But there are digs here in the States, too, and sometimes they use volunteers.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” He nodded toward a plate on the next shelf. It stood on a small display stand. “Now, that’s not a replica.”

She reached for it. “No, that’s something that belonged to my grandmother.”

“Dresden china?”

“Why, yes.” She turned it over and showed him the hallmark on the back.

“Beautiful.”

“You’re not an antique dealer, are you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“No, no worries there. Although I do some work for an insurance company, and they insure collections. But my mother had a few pieces of Dresden, and I thought I recognized it. Not that pattern, though.” He held his smile and forced himself not to look up at the shelf where he thought the item of most interest to Petra rested. “Thank you for showing me your treasures.”

“Well, I hope you catch up with my husband sometime. You’d enjoy talking to him. He could tell you so much more than I can.”

Joe nodded and let his eyes rove slowly over the shelves on the side wall that Petra had indicated. There were only a couple of items that he thought fit her vague description. He zeroed in on one that sat on a shelf slightly above his own eye level. Harwood was a tall man, he knew. That piece seemed the most likely. He pointed toward it.

“This is an odd vase. Or is it a pitcher?”

“Oh, that’s a Toby jug.”

“Something your husband found?”

“No, they’re English, mostly. I believe his family had several of those. My in-laws were collectors. His stepmother made it her hobby after she married Rexford’s father.”

“He lost his own mother, did he?”

“When he was still in grade school. Very sad it was. Before I’d met him.”

“That would have a big impact on a young man.”

“Yes, I’m sure it did. His father struggled for several years, raising his son alone. But as I said, his father married again. And Rexford turned out to be a fine man. “

“I hope things are easier for his father now,” Joe murmured.

“He’s passed on.”

“I’m sorry. He had a fancy for antiques, though?”

Mrs. Harwood nodded. “More Rex’s stepmother. She’s gone now, too. But she liked to bargain for antiques and poke around little shops. That jug is the last of her collection. The rest were all sold.”

“May I?” Joe reached tentatively toward it.

“Let me.” She stretched to lift it down tenderly and placed it in his hands. “It’s very old.”

Joe held the pitcher toward the light from the patio door and examined it. The jug was shaped like a fat little Colonial man with a red jacket and brown knee breeches, holding a mug in one hand. The liquid in the jug would pour out one corner of his tricorn hat. Joe chuckled. “Such a merry little fellow.”

“Yes, everyone loves them. They each have their own personality.”

Joe’s phone rang softly.

“Excuse me. I’ll let you take this. I wouldn’t want to drop it.” He handed her the jug and turned toward the glass door as he took out his phone. “Hello?”

Petra whispered, “That’s it.”

Joe said briskly, “All right, thank you. I’ll be there in a little while.” He closed the connection and smiled at his hostess. “I’m afraid I have to go, but I’ve enjoyed our visit very much.”

“Well, so have I, Mr. Tarleton. You may leave your card for my husband if you’d like. Perhaps you can come another time.”

Joe mentally cataloged the business cards in his wallet. Private detective wouldn’t do, but he had a few the insurance company had sent him with their company name and logo, for times when he represented them. He extracted one and handed it to her. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re in insurance?”

“Yes, I work for that company, but I’m not here to sell you or your husband anything. I’m sure you have adequate coverage for your fine home and collections.”

He exited with as much aplomb as he could muster and drove slowly down the street. Instead of turning directly onto Acton, he went as far as the McDonald’s and took a turn through their parking lot, then headed back to Petra’s house. She was waiting for him with the garage door up, although darkness was falling.

“What took you so long?”

He smiled. “Sorry. The professor wasn’t home, and I had to take some time to get his wife to trust me. And I didn’t want to drive directly back here, in case she was watching.”

They went into Petra’s kitchen, and he took out his phone.

“You think that jug I was holding was it?”

She nodded. “As soon as you turned around with it in front of you, I knew. It was just like when she held it. The colors, the size. That had to be what the woman was holding when he attacked her.”

“Want to see it up close? I managed to click a picture while she wasn’t looking.”

Petra took the phone and gazed at the screen. “Wow. He’s kinda cute.”

“And he has a pedigree. Tonight I’m going to do a little background check on Mr. Toby Jug.”

Petra awoke in darkness. All was still. Too still. No birds, no crickets, no humming refrigerator. What had wakened her?

She heard a slight noise. Mason shifting his position?

No, Mason was gone.

Her heart leaped into her throat, and she reached out for her nightstand, touching nothing. Her pulse raced.

Easy, now. Take it slow.

She swished her hand through the air, then leaned farther to the side. Her fingers brushed the lamp. She clicked the switch and light flooded the room. The boxes she’d filled with clothes and photo albums sat in the corner. Otherwise, the room looked the same as always.

Another noise, soft but identifiable, reached her ears. She grabbed her phone and pushed 9-1-1.

“What is your emergency?”

“Someone is in my house.”

“Are you reporting a break-in?”

“Yes! I heard someone in the kitchen, and the front door just closed.”

“I show your address as 133 Acton Street.”

“That’s right.”

“An officer will be sent over. Please hold the line.”

Petra swung her feet over the edge of the bed and snatched her robe off a chair. As she stood, a wave of nauseating scent struck her, and she clutched the phone. “I smell gas.”

“Do you have a gas stove, ma’am?”

“Yes.” As she spoke, she tore barefooted down the hallway, flipping every light switch she passed. She burst into the kitchen and slid to a stop in front of the range. The dial for the back left burner was turned to high, but no flame showed. She whipped the dial to off.

“A burner was on, but I shut it off.”

“You’d better go outside, ma’am. You don’t want to inhale too much of the gas.”

Petra stared toward the front door. What if he was waiting outside to see if she emerged into the night? “I…I’m afraid to go out.”

“Then open the windows. Do you have a kitchen fan you can turn on? Get some ventilation through there.”

An hour later she locked the door of her hotel room with trembling hands. She sat hard in a chair. Her phone stared up at her, daring her to pick it up.

God, help me.

She took it in her hand and clicked to Contacts. The sight of Joe’s name comforted her, and she pushed Send.

“Tarleton!”

She smiled involuntarily at his grouchy, sleepy greeting. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Petra. What is it? Are you okay?”

“Someone broke into my house.”

“When?”

“An hour ago. They made a noise, and I woke up. I was half asleep, and I thought it must be Mason at first, because if it was someone else moving around, he’d be barking.”

“But Mason’s up here.” Joe’s deep voice now had that reassuring tone that centered her whenever she heard it.