Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour (17 page)
“You had dinner with him on Saturday?”
“No. I didn’t get as far as dinner. I think I fell asleep during the hors d’oeuvres. Alan’s cocktail hour goes on far too long. He did serve me oysters and rack of lamb for brunch on Sunday. Quite extraordinary, really,” she paused and emptied her glass. “As for drinking, I don’t know what or how much Ashleigh drank, but I’m the last person to condemn someone for… well… as you can see… I’m drunk.”
“Just one more question, about what time did you fall asleep Saturday night?”
“Well, I got to Alan’s around six, we had drinks for several hours. He does make such wonderful hors d’oeuvres, and he never lets your glass get empty.”
“Eight, nine?”
“I don’t know. I think we were both quite drunk.” She looked across at Elkins. “Now, sheriff, if there is nothing more, I would like you to go away so I can go to bed.”
Ray placed one of his business cards on the coffee table. “If anything comes to mind that you think might be helpful, please call.”
Medford gave him a drunken smile and watched him depart.
Ray followed the winding path toward his Jeep. Before he pulled the door open, he stopped and looked back at Devonshire Cottage. The lights went off as Medford moved from room to room until the building was in complete darkness. Moonlight reflected off the roof, a small coil of smoke rose from the chimney. The air was crisp and scented with the burning oak. He held the beauty of the moment, letting his other thoughts and feelings slip away.
Ray awakened at four in the morning and stayed in bed and read until five. Then he got up, made coffee, showered, and consumed a bowl of granola before setting off for the office. Shortly before seven o’clock he completed reviewing the reports of the shift commanders for the previous several days, a part of his daily routine that he had put off because of the demands of the murder investigation. By the time Sue Lawrence had arrived for their scheduled 8:00 a.m. case review, Ray had worked through most of the paper that even the smallest of police agencies generates in a few days.
“Morning,” offered Sue, setting her insulated coffee cup on the edge of Ray’s desk.
“You look a bit rough this morning,” Ray observed.
“You really know how to make a girl feel good,” she responded.
“I was showing avuncular concern for an esteemed younger colleague,” he explained.
“If truth were known… ”
Ray cut her off, “I have a sense it soon will be.”
“Long after you were home and in your warm bed, I was still gathering evidence.” She paused briefly and yawned. “By the way, you owe me for about a dozen glasses of Pinot Grigio, and you’re darn lucky it was ladies night. Maybe you can get the county to reimburse me,” she said as she dropped into a gray steel chair near Ray’s desk.
“What you talking about?” he asked.
“Yesterday, in passing, you said that you wondered about Jason Zelke’s relationship with other women. Last night, off the clock, I did some informal research.”
“I am constantly amazed by your dedication,” Ray offered in a jocular fashion. “And where did you conduct this study?”
“Well, after yoga the girls usually go to the Beanery, drink herbal tea and talk. I suggested we go to Last Chance instead. I even offered to pick up the first round.”
“How did it go?”
“Better than I, or you, could have hoped for. By the time the third round of drinks and potato skins had arrived, the conversation turned to guys. There was a lot of kidding going on. They were going through all the local guys and talking about a couple of new arrivals. I mentioned that I’d seen this guy at the health club pumping iron and described Jason. They all knew who I was talking about instantly.” Sue had a self-satisfied smile on her face.
“What did you learn?”
“Well, I’m the only one in the group who isn’t native to the area. Several of the women went to elementary school with Jason, they all knew him in middle and high school, and several hung around with him during his community college days and after.”
“Did any of them date him?”
“They had all dated him sometime between second grade and last year. According to the women, he’s too much like a brother. You can call him at three in the morning, and he’ll happily drive his big truck over and pull you out of a ditch—all that good, kind stuff. He loves to drop by your house or apartment and fix things. And he’s supposed to be great in the sack but… ”
“But what?”
“The consensus is that he’s sort of boring, and he’s totally self-contained. He likes to have a woman around when he wants a woman around, but most of the time he’s out fishing or hunting or heading to his cabin in the U.P. You can’t get him to go dancing or a movie; no one has ever seen him read a book. And he doesn’t like parties. He’ll cook you a great meal, but he won’t take you to a restaurant. He’ll hang out with you for three or four days, and then you won’t see him for three weeks. And it’s not that he’s out with other women, he just gets so close and then he pulls back. No one thinks he’ll ever really take the chance on a close relationship, unless you’re a black Labrador.” She laughed at her own joke.
“How about violence. Any suggestion that… ?”
“I probed that very carefully. You’ve got to remember all these women are long-term friends and occasional loves of Jason. I approached the topic by saying I wouldn’t like someone that big getting angry with me.” She looked at Ray. “Which is true. But the consensus is that Jason just gets hurt when things aren’t going well. And he doesn’t have the capacity to talk things out or confront. He just wanders away with his dog. There was a lot of armchair psychology, something about his mother splitting when he was a kid.”
“How about Ashleigh, were you able to explore that angle?”
“I got lucky on that one. I was just waiting for someone to suggest that my interest might be something other than… ”
“Social,” Ray interjected.
“Yeah, social,” she chuckled. “They wanted to know about Ashleigh, wanted to know, woman to woman, if Jason was a suspect. I felt sort of false when I told them this, but I pretended I was giving them some inside stuff. I said that we’d talked to dozens of people, to everyone Ashleigh had any contact with. Jason was on the list, but not a suspect. They agreed that he couldn’t have been involved. And then there was some talk about how Ashleigh was really out of his… ”
“His what?” Ray probed.
“I was going to say ‘class,’ but that wasn’t it. A couple of them had been acquainted with Ashleigh. She came to yoga classes her first couple of years at Leiston. I think the way they phrased it was that Ashleigh was a bit too exotic for Jason. They thought she’d probably had some good rolls in the hay with him and then got bored. But there was the suggestion that he was upset when it was over.”
“How did they know?”
“Hey, in this little burg there’s a lot of talk.”
“The marijuana use, did you put that out there?”
“I floated that a couple of times, but no one responded. They were a bit wary, me being a cop.”
“So, your gut feeling, what about Zelke?”
“I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“You’re not going to go out with him, are you?”
“He might be the best thing out there at the moment,” she said in a teasing fashion. “But no, probably not. He’s not a reader. You’d never approve.”
“Thank you,” said Ray, “interesting stuff.” He got up from his desk and pulled down a large white board from the ceiling. Ray went to the list of interviewees and added a question mark to Zelke’s name.
“Not convinced?” said Sue.
“I agree, I think it’s highly unlikely. But maybe something in him snapped, and he followed them out there. He knows the terrain; he’s big enough and strong enough, and he’d have a hunting knife. His only alibi to his whereabouts on Saturday evening is his dog.”
“Too bad dogs don’t talk. Bet they’d be a lot more reliable than people,” said Sue.
“We should talk to him again in a day or two to let him know we’re still interested in him. Both of us this time, good cop and bad cop. Are you finished with the crime scene?”
“Yes. We went over the entire area again and then vacuumed the back of tarps on the off-chance that something was clinging to them.”
“And?”
“No new findings at the scene. I’ll look over the debris we collected when we vacuumed the tarps. We’ve canvassed the area; I’ve talked with the Department of Natural Resources. I was hoping there might have been a game warden in the area that evening. Nothing. And I went back to Arnie’s shack. Evans and I did a thorough search of the building and the area. I was hoping I’d see something we missed in the wind and rain. Nada. Anything new on Arnie?”
“Not much, and nothing good,” said Ray. “I talked to the trauma doctor and to the cardiologist who’s treating him. They think if he survives he’ll have a lot more cognitive damage. I think it’s doubtful that he’ll ever be able to tell us anything. Poor kid. Poor Kim. Either way, it’s going to be awful for her.” He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “How do you feel about a fast trip to Cleveland and Ann Arbor?”
“You want me talk to Dowd’s parents?”
“Yes, and perhaps go through his apartment in Ann Arbor. You’ll have to do some liaison work before you go. I’ve always had very good cooperation with other agencies when I’ve needed to do this.”
“I’ll get started on it right away. Hopefully I can get out of here before noon. Anything else?”
Ray handed her a grocery list. “If you have time on your way out of Ann Arbor, here’s a few things I need from Zingerman’s Deli.”
“Is this in my job description?” she asked in a mocking tone.
“Consider it a professional development activity,” he responded. “Zingerman’s is a model of efficiency and good customer service.” He paused and smiled, “And you will also have my eternal gratitude.”
Shortly before ten, Ray pulled into the almost empty parking lot of the Bay Side Family Market. He sat in his car for several minutes trying to remember what he needed, the exhaustion of a long day clouding his thoughts. He pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket, switched on the map light, and listed the necessities: milk, bananas, coffee, bread. Then he wrote “dinner” followed by a question mark.
Collecting a shopping cart near the front door, Ray picked through a pile of bananas, most overripe, until he found a bunch that was more green than yellow. After picking up a quart of milk and a loaf of whole-wheat bread for toast, he noticed a lone baguette on the display rack of a local baker. He tested the crust; it was still hard. The bread became the determining factor for the choice of other menu items for his late-night supper. He grabbed a bag of golden delicious apples, checking the label to make sure they were from an area orchard. Then he moved to the cheese counter, an oval island between the produce section and the wine, four-fifths displaying domestic varieties, the final wedge covered with imported products, including a small collection of artisan and farmhouse cheeses. In a far corner he unearthed a petite pyramid of Valençay, a rare find so long after the summer people were gone. Holding it up and turning it slowly, he inspected the hard rind of charcoal and mold before putting it in the cart. Then he selected a piece of Brie and looked through the modest offering of Stilton, five small packages, checking the rind. His selection technique didn’t go unnoticed. He looked up to find Sarah James watching him with great amusement.
“You do a much better job of shopping than I do,” she said good-naturedly, playfully offering him her grocery list. She came around the island and inspected the contents of his cart. “Looks like you’re planning a picnic.”
“Late dinner, actually. Something that doesn’t require any cooking.”
“Late,” she said glancing at her watch. “Very late. You look like you’ve had a long day.”
Ray just nodded.
“I meant to call you today,” Sarah said. “Something occurred to me that might be useful.” She looked around after she said it. “I don’t think it’s real important, but it may be of some interest. But this is hardly the place. I’ll call you in the morning?”
“If you have time,” Ray offered, “we could get a coffee over at the Beanery. At this time of night, I’m sure we could get a booth at the back where we can talk without an audience.”
“Done with your shopping?” she asked.
“Just need to pay. How about you?”
“Same.”
They chatted as they waited in line. The lone cashier—a tall, thin teenage girl with pinkish hair and multiple facial piercings— worked through customers in front of them, people on milk, beer, bread, and chips runs. Ray walked Sarah to her car, a Subaru wagon, and then followed her to the center of the village. He was out of his car and halfway to the door before he noticed the lights, with the exception of a red neon tube that spelled BEANERY, were out. He studied the sign on the front door.
Fall Hours Now In Effect.
Sarah came to his side and looked at the sign. “It’s not that important, sheriff. It can wait until tomorrow. Just a couple of things that might be useful.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you don’t mind, you can come up to my place.” He pointed to the bluff behind the village. “I live up there, it’s five blocks.”
“No, it will be nice to have someone to talk to over bread and cheese.”
Ray opened the packages and arranged cheese on a board while Sarah wandered around the kitchen and living room. He sliced up the baguette, put a clean dishtowel in a basket, dropped in the pieces, and folded the towel over the bread. “What would you like to drink?” he asked. I have Diet Coke, coffee, tea, or I could open a bottle of wine.
“A little wine would be nice, but please don’t… ” “Good choice,” said Ray. He selected a Vouvray from a collection of bottles stored horizontally on the bottom shelf of his refrigerator and retrieved a corkscrew from a drawer.
“What a wonderful home you have here,” she said, looking around at the kitchen. She stood for a long moment and examined a bookcase on the side of the kitchen island. “Are all these cookbooks yours?”