Breaking Ground (22 page)

She continued to take in the room, straining to recall what had been where. Then she saw it: the folder with her notes! It was on the counter, next to the sink. She was sure she had left it on the kitchen table. And she was sure, absolutely sure, she had left it closed. But it was open now. She started toward it, but Mike grabbed her. “Don't touch anything,” he commanded. “Just look. I'll have to dust it.”

“This folder was closed, and it was on the kitchen table.”

“What is it?”

“My notes on Mary Ellen's murder. Oh, God, someone went through my notes!”

“Your
notes?
” Julie couldn't help but notice his tone was suddenly less patient and understanding than it had just been.

“Just stuff I jotted down—biographical information, details about Birch Brook, motives, that sort of thing. Oh my God, Mike, there
was
something else. Dan Swanson's letter. It was right on top!”

He reached for Julie's right arm as she extended it toward the folder. “Hold it, Julie!” the policeman said.

She quickly withdrew the offending arm. “Sorry. It must have been that letter he was after.”

“Think you could make some coffee?” She nodded. “And you've got to get Oxford in there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oxford County—in your puzzle.” He pointed to the table where the bottom third of the state of Maine was intact next to pieces in piles.

“Too bad he didn't put it in for me,” she said.

“Criminals these days—bad manners,” Mike said. “Now tell me about this letter.”

She finished recounting the contents of the letter just as the buzzer sounded to indicate the coffee was ready. She poured them both a cup and sat back down across from Mike.

“So you think this letter explains about the ownership of Birch Brook?” he asked.

“Not exactly
explains
it. I knew the land had passed back and forth between the two families, and Luke wasn't happy he and Frank had to buy it from Mary Ellen, since Luke's father had sold it to Dan Swanson so recently. I mentioned this before.” Mike nodded. “But the letter adds something,” she continued. “It mentions disputes and fights. I wish I had the copy so you could see what I mean!”

“You said
copy?
”

“Yes, of course. I had a copy, not the original; I'd never take an original out of the archives. It's still there. Or it
should
be. Let's go down to the office and check. That way you can see for yourself.”

“Relax, Julie. We can see about that later. Maybe you've forgotten already, but I'm here, drinking coffee with you in your kitchen in the middle of the night because someone broke into your house. Maybe we could concentrate on that for a minute. Assuming the person was looking for the letter—the
copy
—who would want it?”

“Luke,” Julie responded immediately. “He was there today, I'm pretty sure. I saw a truck pulling away after I closed up. We can check with Tabby Preston. If Luke was in working on the papers, Tabby would have told him about the new batch—the boxes that Steven Swanson brought in.”

“It's hard for me to imagine Luke breaking into your house, Julie. I've known him all my life. He's not a polished sort of guy, but he's a straight shooter. If he wanted something from you, he'd ask. Not break in.”

Julie considered Mike's description of Luke and nodded. “I see your point. But I still think he's a prime suspect.”

“For B and E—or murder?”

“For both, I think. I mean, he wouldn't go to the trouble of breaking in to recover the letter if it didn't point to him as Mary Ellen's killer? Would he?”

“You're getting beyond me, Julie.” Mike's handheld radio crackled: “Chief Barlow?”

“Barlow,” he responded.

“Just checking on that call,” the voice said.

“Sorry. Should have closed with you. The perp's gone, and I'm with the woman who called. The house is secure, but I'll need to have a mobile crime lab out to check a few things. Can you put that through?”

“I go off at six, and the crime scene guys don't get in till eight. I'll leave a note, but you'd better check in the morning, Chief.”

“Ten-four. Thanks. Sorry about that.” Mike added to Julie. “I should have closed with Dispatch. Good to know they keep track. Anyway, what were you saying?”

“Just that whoever broke in here—Luke or whoever—must have thought the letter was pretty important, and that makes me think it's connected to Mary Ellen's murder. Shouldn't we go check the archives to see if the original is there?”

“Why don't you explain that one?” Mike said.

“Well, if Luke saw the letter in the archives, and if Tabby told him I'd made a copy, he wouldn't take such a big risk in coming here to get the copy unless he also took the original.”

“Could he do that? I thought you said stuff never left the archives.”

“I said that
I
wouldn't take an original. But Luke could have. When Tabby wasn't looking, he could have slipped it into his papers and just taken it. Then if he found out from her I had a copy he would want to get that one, too.”

“Why?”

“So no one else would know about the funny circumstances of Dan Swanson buying the land from Paul Dyer.”

“I thought you said Luke was mad about that.”

“Of course he was. If his dad hadn't sold, he wouldn't have had to pay so much to Mary Ellen to buy Birch Brook.”

“So Luke would want the letter known, wouldn't he? Instead of trying to get rid of it, he'd want to make sure it was out in the open, so he could contest the sale or whatever.”

Julie finished her coffee and stared silently, remembering that Dalton had made a similar point yesterday. She got up and brought the pot to the table and refilled both their cups. “Or am I missing something here?” the policeman said to break the silence.

“No, you're not. Just the opposite. It's a good point, and I don't know what to say. Maybe it means someone else had an interest in the letter.”

“Like?”

“Like Steven Swanson. If someone had grounds to contest the ownership of Birch Brook, Steven would stand to lose some money.”

“But you said he brought you all those papers. He could have just taken that letter out before he did.”

“True, but that assumes he read through them, and that he saw that particular letter and understood its significance. What if he didn't—I mean, before he gave them to me? Then what if he found out later, came to the archives to take that one back, and then found out from Tabby that I had a copy? That would fit, wouldn't it?”

“Seems like a stretch to me.”

“Okay, but it's possible. And then of course there's Frank Nilsson. Let's say Luke found out about the letter. He tells Frank because he's happy that maybe the Dyers can get title to the property. That would save them both a lot of money, but then it would
put Dyer more in the driver's seat, or at least give him a bigger piece of the pie. And it would slow everything down while they fought it out with Mary Ellen's estate over the ownership. Nilsson has a lot riding on this project and doesn't want any delays. And of course he wants to keep the biggest share for himself. So he realizes he needs to get rid of the letter. And the copy! That would work.”

“A lot of things would work. And so should the chief of the Ryland Police Department. Funny how the citizens expect me to be out driving around at night instead of having coffee with the director of the historical society. I'll get the state crime lab in here tomorrow. Or later, I should say,” he added after looking at his watch, which said 3:55. “You going to be okay alone here now?”

“I could always go to the office and check the archives, Mike. It should be safe there—especially if you come along.”

“Hope you keep changing that code,” Mike said as he stood below Julie on the steps of Swanson House while she touched keys on the lighted box.

“I did it last year. I'm sure you remember that!” Julie added, reminding them both of the break-in at the historical society that led to the recovery of the lost Lincoln letter. “Statewide Security keeps reminding me that they told Worth Harding to change it regularly for ten years! They thought I'd be better. I did, too, but I will change it.”

“One of these days,” he finished her sentence.

“Yeah.” When the blinking light moved from
ARMED
to
OFF
, Julie used her key to open the door. Inside, she switched on the light and waited till the policeman closed the outside door before she started up the steps to the archives and library. “Tabby probably put the new boxes in the vault,” she said as she turned on the overhead light.

She found the two keys on her ring, unlocked the vault, and paused in front of it.

“Want me to open it?” Mike asked.

Julie nodded, and the policeman swung the door open. The boxes that Steven Swanson had brought were on the floor.

“These?” Mike asked, and Julie nodded again. “I'll get them,” he said. “That table okay?”

“It's fine, but you don't need to get them all. I can find the one with Dan Swanson's letter. I remember the other stuff in it.” She leaned hesitantly into the vault, just enough to check the boxes. “Here, it's this one,” she said after lifting and briefly examining a few of the letters on top.

Mike carried it to the large table in the center of the room and stood quietly while Julie thumbed through the contents. “No,” she said, “it's not here.”

“Shouldn't we check the others? Maybe the letter ended up in another one.”

“It's possible, but Tabby's so careful I'm sure she returned it to the right one. Do you have time for me to go through them?”

“Yeah. I just need to check in.”

Mike's voice and the crackling of his radio comforted Julie as she worked her way through the boxes. “Not this one,” she said after finishing the second box.

Mike looked up from the page he was writing on and nodded. “You don't need to rush; I'm just finishing my report,” he told her. “Everything's quiet out in the greater world, and they know where to find me if that changes.”

“Nope,” she said when she finished the next box. “One to go.” When she finished it, Julie felt a mixture of relief and anger—relief that her theory about the missing letter was confirmed, anger that someone had taken it. “That's it, Mike,” she announced. “I've been through all the boxes. Dan Swanson's letter is missing. And so's the copy. It all fits.”

“You've said that before, Julie, but I'm still not sure what the
it
is and what it fits. I'll admit this does look interesting. Unless Tabby put the original letter somewhere else, of course.”

“We have to ask her, and also ask her about what Luke was doing here yesterday.”

“Did I hear
we
again?”

“Well, I guess I can ask her when she comes in.”

“When's that?”

“Nine-thirty. You can set your watch by her.”

“That's more than five hours from now,” Mike said. “You planning to stay here?”

“No, unless I can persuade you to keep me company.”

“Don't think the citizens of Ryland would appreciate that. Let's lock up here and I'll walk you home.”

As they approached Harding House, the sun was visible just above the eastern horizon.

“Going to warm up,” Mike said.

“I can stand it. I was thinking of taking a run. Before it warms up.”

“Mind if I have another cup of coffee first?”

Julie was happy to have the policeman around—and happy that he made it seem like she was doing him the favor rather than the other way around. She went upstairs and changed into her running clothes.

“I've been thinking,” Mike said when she reappeared in the kitchen. “Might be a better idea if I handle Tabby. Seems like the missing letter may have some bearing on the B and E here, maybe even on Mrs. Swanson's murder. I should take a statement from Tabby just so everything's on the up and up. I'll stop by her house later, before she comes to work.”

“That makes sense. I'm glad to see you agree about the letter.”

“It has to be checked out. Now, about you—I'll call the State Police again after eight to make sure they get a crime scene unit out here, but in the meantime you need to be careful. Here's my cell number if you need anything.”

“Thanks for everything, Mike. Really. I appreciate it. I'm sorry to be a bother.”

As Mike's cruiser headed up Main Street, Julie went in the opposite direction, toward the river. She stayed on the street, avoiding the woods behind the construction site. Another runner, a man she didn't recognize, passed her going the opposite way on the path by the river. She returned his wave, but for the next few seconds she kept glancing behind to make sure he hadn't turned
and followed. Don't be silly, she told herself. Why would anyone follow me? Then again, why would anyone break into her house and steal the copy of Dan Swanson's letter? Someone had. She picked up her pace, hard to do when running alone, and glanced behind a few more times just to be sure she really was running alone.

We're going to pay for last weekend, Julie said to herself when she slowed to a walk at the top of the Common. She was dripping, and it was still only six-thirty. It was obviously going to be a hot one, what the locals called a broiler. Maybe even mid eighties. Outside Harding House, she paused to consider whether she should use the front door. She decided against it and went around to the back and through the unlocked kitchen door, being careful not to touch anything. She wondered if the crime scene crew would actually get there today, and even if they did, whether she could get someone in to fix the lock. She was nervous being in the house alone. Just thinking of staying by herself tonight, even with a new lock on the kitchen door, made her shudder. She dialed Mike's cell phone to ask him if it was okay for her to replace the lock.