Breaking Ground (34 page)

“I didn't even hear the phone ring.”

“I figured you didn't. You seemed to be sleeping so deeply. I woke up about a half-hour ago and sneaked downstairs. I didn't want to bother you.”

“Sorry to phone so early,” Mike said when he heard her voice. “I figured you'd want to get this over with. I need you to identify some things, and sign those statements from yesterday. Later's okay if you want to have breakfast first.”

“Now's fine. We'll meet you at the station in, say, fifteen minutes. See you.” She hung up and asked Rich, “okay if we have breakfast later?”

“Somehow, I don't think that's a real question,” he answered as he started to dress. “You thinking of giving Barlow a thrill, or do you plan to dress, too?”

Julie rang the buzzer outside the door of the Ryland Police Station exactly fifteen minutes after the phone call.

“Which one of you is the stickler for promptness?” Mike asked as he looked at his watch while opening the door. “Come on back,” he said, and pointed toward his office. “Coffee?” Julie and Rich sat at the worktable in Mike's office while he went to the coffee machine in the main office. “Didn't think you had time for any at home,” he said as he handed cups to each of them.

“Thanks,” Julie said. “Guess we're just eager to hear.”

“Figured that. Okay, you know I can't go into all the details.”

“Just tell us what you can.”

“Well, as you know from Luke, you were right on the mark about what was going on. Frank got Luke out there to kill him. Had a handgun. It was real quiet when I got there—Luke just standing, staring at Frank, Frank holding the gun. Honestly, I don't know what would have happened. Maybe Frank would have just backed off, maybe not. Who knows? But when I saw them I hit the siren and started up the hill, and I guess that scared Frank. When I got out of the car, the two of them were still just standing there, looking at each other. Frank handed me the gun and then just started talking. I had to stop him to give him the Miranda, in fact, but it didn't slow him down. He admitted basically everything you guessed at—about Mary Ellen, putting the shovel in the backhoe, stealing the letter, and then breaking into your place to get the copy. He was planning to put Luke's hand on the shovel—after he killed him, I guess. 'Course, he didn't know then that we already knew about it. And then—well, I really can't go into the details, but there was one thing we didn't know: Frank and Luke had a contract that transferred 75 percent of the ownership of Birch Brook to the other partner in case one of them died.”

“Wow!” Julie exclaimed. “Remember, Rich, when we talked to them out at Birch Brook, and Frank said something about ‘protecting' everyone in a partnership. That must have been what he meant!”

“You actually remember that?” Rich said. “You're incredible!”

“I agree,” Mike said. “If Julie hadn't figured this out, Luke would be dead, and I don't know if we'd have been able to nail Frank. I didn't want you involved, but I guess I should just say thanks again.”

Julie blushed and nodded. “Anyway,” she said, “did Frank say anything about the diary?”

“You don't let go, do you?” Mike said, and laughed. “Matter of fact, it was in his trunk—with the letter and the copy. He just
turned it over to me. I'm still not exactly sure what it's going to prove, but I assume you'll help me out on that.”

“I can't say till I read it, but I'm willing to bet the diary will show the land survey in 1883 had been faked. And that someone found that out and threatened a scandal, which is why Dan's father sold Birch Brook cheap in 1933. And then Dan himself found out from the papers that maybe his father had been blackmailed. So
he
did a little blackmailing and got Luke's dad to sell it back cheap to him and to keep the whole thing quiet!

“Remember the Oakes and Swanson families are related. Frank Nilsson had to suppress the diary—as well as Dan Swanson's letter—to make sure Luke didn't stir up the ownership issue and kill the deal. Frank has too much money at stake and can't afford to have a long legal battle.”

“What a mess!” Rich said. “But I still can't understand why Frank was so, well, crazed about this. If Luke disputed the ownership, surely they could have worked something out.”

“You'd think so,” Julie said, “but I think Frank was just in so much debt that he saw everything unraveling—his whole career, the way he saw himself as a successful developer. Remember that he has another big project going on the coast, and I'd be willing to bet that the financing on that is somehow tied into this. I know—” Julie paused because she didn't want to attribute this to Clif Holdsworth, “well, at least I'm pretty sure Frank had borrowed way, way beyond his means. When it looks like your whole life is collapsing, I guess you just see things in a weird way and some kind of self-preservation instinct kicks in. And, as Mike said the other day, land is a blood sport in New England.”

“Blood and money,” Rich added.

“That's right. And then when everything started to unravel again for Frank—and when he was actually face-to-face with Luke
and pointing a gun at him and you came along, Mike, well, he must have just crumpled.”

“
Crumpled
is a good word for it,” Mike replied. “I think he was actually sort of relieved. You know, everything was so fragile—once he got one problem settled another one popped up.”

“That's just what
you
said, Julie,” Rich added.

“You can't go on that way forever,” Mike continued. “Eventually it gets to you, and I don't really think—I know this sounds crazy under the circumstances—but I don't think Frank is a really evil guy. He just got in over his head—way over his head—and he had to keep going, doing one more thing to try to get his head above water. Anyway, it's a real tragedy.” Mike paused and looked around the room, as if seeking an answer somewhere up on the wall as to why things happen the way they do. “So,” he said to them, “want to sign those statements now? I've got to go down and meet the assistant DA and present all this stuff. Statements are right here.”

While Mike stood and gathered some papers from his desk, Julie asked, “One more thing, Mike—about Elizabeth Myerson?”

“What about her? Here, you should read these through. Just make sure it's what you told me. And make any additions or corrections right there in ink and initial them.”

“About Elizabeth?” Julie prompted.

“Elizabeth—yeah, I need to check those cell-phone records, but frankly, I think they'll support her. There's no reason to think she had anything to do with any of this.”

“What about the boy on the bike who saw a blonde woman at the construction site when Mary Ellen was murdered?”

“That was all BS! I told the damned staties that before. That kid's just got a good imagination—and a desire to make trouble. Anyway, I'm going to talk to him again myself. But Elizabeth is out of this. Frank confessed, and everything adds up. Just like you
said. So go ahead and read those statements. I've got to do some work in the other office. Take your time.”

Rich and Julie did as he directed. Rich finished first, signed his, and sat quietly, staring at Julie as she worked through hers, making notes on the pages. When she finished and signed hers, she noticed his gaze. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“About Elizabeth Myerson, as a matter of fact.”

“You think she
was
involved?”

“No. Just about her name. Would you keep your name if you got married?”

“I haven't really thought about it. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no particular reason,” Rich said with a smile. “Shouldn't we be getting home? You've still got some of that puzzle to finish.”

Julie looked at him quizzically.

“The map of the State of Maine,” he explained.

“Oh,
that
puzzle!”