Don't Look Twice (21 page)

I
f Brunswick was idyllic, picturesque, Lewiston was its ugly older sister in shabby clothes. Run-down, boarded-up mills along the Androscoggin River. Motel 6s and Subways on the main drag instead of charming New England inns.

Across the river, Auburn was the sister's even plainer friend.

It was about a thirty-minute drive from the coast. Hauck crossed over the bridge and stopped at a 7-Eleven and punched “New Morris Road” into the GPS. The guidance system took him out to East Auburn, situated on a large, unfrozen lake, then continued, following the stark, wooded shoreline. Along the road, dingy farms with rusted old tractors and pickups in front mixed with more modern shingled capes, probably home to college students and professors from Bates, which was perched across the river.

Hauck continued on.

About halfway around the lake, the GPS alerted him to New Morris Road, a cluster of weather-beaten mailboxes marking the intersection. He headed toward the water. The road was paved but rutted. The harsh Maine winters had had their way.

Like to see
Old
Morris Road.
Hauck chuckled to himself.

Ahead, a couple of run-down farmhouses came into view: 380, 440. Some even had covered boats dry-docked in the front yard.

At a curve, a rickety fence in front, was a white clapboard farmhouse.

Four ninety-five.

The house had black hanging shutters, a listing wooden porch, and backed onto the lake. There were a couple of vehicles pulled up in front, a Toyota SUV and a beaten-up Dodge minivan. Hauck saw the lights were on inside.

He climbed out of the car and checked his gun strapped against his chest. He caught sight of a curtain parting in a downstairs window.

They were here.

He went up the steps to the landing and knocked. He heard voices inside.

It took a few seconds before a heavyset woman in a white peasant top opened the door, carrying a baby in her arms.

Hauck removed his sunglasses. “Mrs. Whyte?”

The woman juggled the baby. “Yes.”

“I'm Lieutenant Hauck. I'm from the town of Greenwich, in Connecticut. I'm sorry to bother you. I was hoping I might find Paul Pacello here.”

“Pacello?” The woman seemed a bit nervous, acting as if she'd never heard the name.

“Yes, ma'am. He used to be an employee of the Pequot Woods Casino. You know him, don't you?”

“No, um…” The baby started to whimper. “Yes…” Her large eyes seemed ill at ease.
“Hush, Noah!”

Hauck looked at her. “He's your father, isn't he?”

The woman shook her head, unsure what to do. She jiggled the squirming baby. “Yes, he's my father…But he's not here.
He lives about thirty minutes away. Down in Brunswick. He's probably there. I don't know what would have brought you up here.”

“I've already been there,” Hauck said. “I was told he and his wife left yesterday in kind of a rush. A workman at the house said he was gone for a few days.”

“Oh. I wouldn't know anything about that…Listen, I've got to see to my child. You can see he's all in a mess. I can tell them you came by. What did you say your name was?”

“Hauck,” he said again. “You're sure they're not here?”

“Of course I'm sure,” the woman said, agitated. “Now I've got to go. I'm sorry…”

“One last thing.” Hauck motioned toward the silver Toyota 4-Runner parked outside the garage. “That belong to you, Ms. Whyte? The one with Connecticut plates?”

Linda Whyte's face flushed red.

“Listen, Ms. Whyte, I know they're here.” Hauck took a step up the landing. “They're probably inside there now and I only need a few words with your father, in connection with the murder of a Keith Kramer, whom I think he knew. And the fact that he's going to this much trouble to avoid talking only gives rise to the thought that maybe there's something to hide.”

“I don't know.” Her eyes flitted, nervously. “I—”

“Linda…”
A voice sounded from inside. “It's okay, honey…”

Pacello came up behind her in the doorway. “I guess you're looking for me?”

He was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and rumpled pants. The same salt-and-pepper crew cut and heavy oversized eyeglasses Hauck recalled from Raines's video.

“I don't have to talk with you,” he said. “You don't have any jurisdiction here.”

“May I come in?”

“No, you can't come in.” Pacello eased his daughter out of the doorway. “What you can do is get back in your car there and drive on home. I don't know anything about any murder. I barely knew Keith. Sometimes we worked in the same section. I can't help you.”

“How did you know I was headed up here? Did Raines warn you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about, mister. I came to visit my family. Is that a crime? And I don't have to continue this conversation if I don't want to, unless you've got a warrant. I'm retired. I don't work for the resort anymore. I don't know anything about what happened to Keith. That was all too bad. So if you don't mind, I'm sorry…”

He moved to shut the door.

Hauck caught it before it shut and met the man's eyes. “I can come back with a warrant if you like, Mr. Pacello. A federal one. I know about how you came to buy your inn. How you paid off the mortgage. I know precisely where the check came from. The Pequot Woods. Five hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars…That's a little more than a gold watch for your ten years. You wouldn't want to have to answer questions about that, would you? Sort of has the feel of someone who may have been bought off.”

“Bought off?”
Pacello opened the door wider. “I don't know what you're talking about, mister. Bought off for what?”

“For your silence.” Hauck shrugged. “For your participation in a scheme to implicate a federal attorney in a phony gambling scam. For covering up what happened to Keith Kramer. That is how you got your little nest egg paid off, right? After falling three months behind in the payments.
Now
do you have an idea what I'm talking about, Mr. Pacello?”

Lines tightened on the dealer's face. For a second, he seemed about to lunge at Hauck.

“I also know your place is held in a trust. For your daughter here. Your grandkids…”

“That's enough, okay?”

“You don't want to risk that, do you? So far, I'm not sure you've done anything really wrong. Nothing that a few smart words from you wouldn't correct. But if you really want me to come back with that warrant, I'm not sure I can promise how someone else might look at that little transaction down the line.”

“You don't understand.” Pacello shook his head. His voice grew hushed. “I've seen what they would do.”

“It's too late,” Hauck said. “It's going to come out. Four people are dead. If it's not me, it'll be someone else.”

From behind him, a woman stepped into the doorway. Graying hair, kind gray eyes. She put a hand on Pacello's shoulder. “Come on, Paul. We always knew this was going to happen.”

“Get back, Katherine.”

“No,” she said, “I won't get back. I won't let this go on anymore. What's done is done.” She stepped onto the landing and opened the door. “Let the lieutenant in.”

T
hey went out to the back on a screened-in porch that faced the lake. Two green Adirondack chairs and a couch covered up for the winter in a canvas tarp. It was cold. Pacello sat with his elbows on his knees and a brooding expression. His wife and daughter stayed inside.

“You've got to protect them,” he said, more of a plea than a demand. He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Linda and Cal, they can't know.”

“I'll do my best,” Hauck promised.

“No, that's not good enough. You've got to give me assurances. What's anyone going to think? They know where we are. They know that place is all I got.”

Hauck nodded.

Out on the water, a small boat chugged by, maybe a couple of hundred yards offshore.
Some kind of small fishing boat,
Hauck thought at first,
this deep into winter. Maybe checking traps.
An empathetic shiver rippled through him.
Cold as crap out there today.

“I didn't do anything wrong,” Pacello said. “They just told me they wanted to make this guy Sanger come out alright.
Sometimes you do a turn for the high rollers, certain friends of the house. It was part of my job.”

“False shuffle.” Hauck looked at him. “You stacked the deck so he would win.” Hauck suddenly realized that was where all the money had come from in Sanger's account. That and whatever else Sanger had won online.

“You think I even knew who the hell this guy was? They told me to keep the table open for him. Let him win. I saw him there once or twice before and acted like I recognized him. He said I was his lucky dealer. I didn't do anything other than my job, Lieutenant. They came to me. I want that clear.”

“‘They'?”
Hauck said. “
Raines?
”

“He wanted to point the finger at Keith.” Pacello nodded. “Make it look like it was him. I knew it was wrong. I knew there was something else behind it. You ever have to make a choice, Lieutenant?”

Hauck nodded. “Every day.”

“No.” Pacello shook his head. “A real choice. Something that defines who you are. That won't go away. I worked thirty years across the felt and never took away shit. Maybe a hundred-dollar tip here and there when I tossed someone the right card or spun a lucky number. You sit across from all that money and you just have to look at it as if it's fucking oranges or cabbage. So I made a choice. They knew I wanted to retire and come up here. They knew I had this house, this stupid dream we had, and that I was falling behind. You can't let them take that from me, Lieutenant.” Pacello stared at Hauck. “I've earned that. It's all I have. Thirty friggin' years…” He motioned inside. “For
them
…You understand what I'm saying. They deserve it. All I had to do was deal out some cards.”

“Tell me what Raines asked you to do.”

“Not till you get me a deal. I'll deny anything I said. You don't know what they'll do.”

“Raines warned you I was coming, didn't he? He told you to get out.”

Pacello took off his glasses. He massaged his brow. “Yeah, he called me.” Pacello sat back. “He told me to get out. He said if you asked anything about Kramer…”

His eyes drifted from Hauck toward the water. Hauck noticed that the fishing boat had come in closer. It was just sitting there. Its engines appeared to have been cut.

Something didn't seem right.

No reason for anyone to be out here this time of year…

Hauck stood up, stared out at the water. “Mr. Pacello, I want you to get down now—”

The first shot whined in, catching Pacello in the throat, a burst of crimson spraying all over the deck.

The shocked dealer coughed, his eyes stretched wide.

The second shot caught him in the chest, before Hauck could even react. He turned, confused, spewing a spittle of blood and tendril all over his chest.

Hauck screamed into the house.
“Everyone get down!”

Another shot zinged in, barely missing Hauck's head, crashing into the siding.
“Stay inside!”

Then another. Hauck felt the heat from it against his shoulder as he leaped and pushed the wounded dealer to the floor. The screen door opened. Pacello's wife rushed out.
“Paul?”

“Get back in!” Hauck shouted.
“Get down!”

She stared down at her husband in horror.
“Oh, my God, Paul!”

Hauck pulled her down from the line of fire and took out his own gun, leaping up and running to the railing. The trawler had started up. It was moving away. He aimed and squeezed off
six shots from the Sig. The boat was over a couple of hundred yards out.
“God damn it!”
he yelled, helpless, at the retreating hull.

He ran after it down the steps and continued squeezing off eight more rounds, emptying his clip.

Out of range.

Hauck looked back at Pacello.
“Sonovafuckingbitch!”

He ran back onto the deck and found Pacello's wife lying over him, talking to him.
“Paul! Paul!”
She was covered in her husband's blood.

The dealer's eyes were beginning to glaze.

Hauck kneeled. The man was fading. He didn't have much time.

“Kramer wasn't guilty, wasn't he?”
Hauck lifted Pacello's head. “There was never any scam. They just told you to frame a case around him—
isn't that right?
That they'd pay off the mortgage?”

Pacello coughed out a bubble of blood, nodded.
“Keith…,”
he wheezed, almost smiling. “He was a good guy…”

“What was it all about?” Hauck demanded.

Pacello's wife screamed, “Please, God, can't you see what's happening? Just leave him alone!”

The man's gaze started to dim.

“Why did they kill them?”
Hauck pressed. “Kramer knew something, didn't he? He brought in Sanger. What the hell did they know, Mr. Pacello? They tried to make it seem like it was all a gambling scam. What was it all about?”

Pacello gripped Hauck's arm. The desperate grasp of someone's last glimmer of strength. He raised himself up, lips quivering. “Ask Raines…” His eyes locked onto Hauck, his smile hapless. “Bad choice, huh?”

Hauck saw his pupils were no longer moving.

“Paul. Paul…”
Pacello's wife latched onto him.

Hauck leaned back against the deck and slammed his fist against the boards. He gazed out over the lake, his chest bursting with rage. Pacello's blood was still warm and sticky on his palms.

The boat had disappeared. Only an evaporating and widening wake where it had once been.