Shelf Ice (26 page)

As Ray entered the central revolving door of
The
Church for the Next Millennium, he stopped for a minute, allowing his eyes to adjust from the sun light and snow-covered terrain to the more subdued illumination of the building’s interior.

“How can I direct you?” came a deep resonant voice.

Ray focused on a figure at the side of the door, a large man in a blue sport coat and gray pants. They carefully eyed one another.

Private security,
thought Ray,
and not local, but professional and expensive.

“May I direct you, sir?” the man asked again.

“I know where I’m going,” answered Ray with authority as he marched toward Gunne’s office. He found Gunne’s secretary working at a computer keyboard.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Mr. Gunne.”

“Is he expecting you, Sheriff?” she asked, looking up over her glasses.

 
“I would like to see him now.”

She picked up her phone, set it back in the cradle and said, “Excuse me a minute. I’ll see if he’s available.” As she walked toward Gunne’s office, Ray followed her, pushing past her after she opened the door.

“Excuse the interruption,” she said, her eyes moving from Gunne to Ray. She quickly withdrew, closing the door behind her.

“We need to talk,” said Ray.
 
Gunne pushed the laptop that he had been working on to the side and stood. Ray could see a spreadsheet on the screen.

“Sheriff, would you please have a seat. I can have Shirley bring us some coffee.”

“Mr. Gunne, I’d like you to sit right there,” said Ray pointing to a chair. I don’t want a desk between us.” He positioned his chair before sitting so they were directly across from each other.

“How can I help you, Sheriff?”

“You can start by telling me everything that you know,” said Ray.

“I’m sorry. I don’t quite follow.”

“Brenda Manton worked on your church, she ends up dead. Richard Kinver has worked for you and is a member of your congregation. Now he’s dead. Molly Birchard, Brenda’s best friend and one of your flock has disappeared. And you live in a house that belongs to an elderly couple, and no one seems to know where they are.”

“I don’t understand, Sheriff. I’ve been devastated by the deaths of two very good people, but what does that have to do with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out.”

Gunne remained silent; he stared at Ray. Then he said, “Am I under suspicion or a person of interest or whatever phrase is used in police jargon?”

“Not at this time,” said Ray, “but you have had contact with all of these people. And I want to know what you know. Perhaps you can help us get to the bottom of things.” Ray pulled a small notebook from an inside pocket and opened it. He peered at his notes. “Earlier you told me that you had no personal relationship with Brenda Manton. Is that still your story?”

“Personal relationship, what do you mean by that?” Gunne responded.

“Let’s not quibble. I think you know exactly what I mean by that.”

“Like I think that I told you before, Brenda Manton was one of many craftsmen and artisans who worked on this building. In the course of the design of the artwork and getting it installed, we developed a friendship. For several months we worked together very closely. And it’s true, I didn’t have that kind of relationship with most of the people on the job, like plumbers and electricians. But I am sure, Sheriff, you understand the difference. Brenda’s work was creative. I had a loose concept of what I wanted the walls to look like. There was a lot of going back and forth to attain the look and feel that I desired for this building.”

“I understand that,” said Ray. “But this relationship seems to have extended beyond the bounds of a normal professional relationship.” He looked at his notes. “For example, you told me that you visited Brenda’s home several times to look at designs. Did you ever visit her then or later as a social occasion, to have a glass of wine, to chat, something more personal?”

“Like I told you, Sheriff, our relationship was professional, nothing more, never.”

“So you never had sex with her, then, did you?”

“No,” said Gunne, straightening the crease on one leg of his pants.

“Tell me about this house you’re living in.”

“I’m renting it,” said Gunne.

“How did you learn about this property?”

“I was talking to Richard Kinver. I told him I was looking for a rental, someplace I could live for six months while I was looking for a place to buy. He told me he had a home that would be ideal for my needs. He said he was the caretaker of this property for some absentee owners and that he could get me a good rental rate for the winter months.”

“So you never met the owners?” said Ray.

“No.”

“To whom did you pay the rent?”

“I paid Richard Kinver. He picked up the rent first of each month.”

“And how much was the rent?”

“It was $2000.”

“$2000, that’s a lot of money. But for a piece of property worth millions, quite modest. Did you think that was peculiar?”

“Sheriff, I thought I was getting a deal. Richard told me that they were two elderly people who had more money than they could ever use.”

“So you never met them?”

“No, never.”

“Did you have any other business dealings with Richard Kinver?”

“He did most of the excavation work on the new building. He also helped with landscaping. And this winter he’s been clearing the parking lots.”

“Had he become part of your congregation?”

“Yes. His personal life seemed to be in chaos. I think through my ministry he was beginning to take control of his destiny.”

Ray changed direction. “Elise Lovell.” He just let the name hang and waited for a response.

“Brenda Manton’s assistant, what about her?”

“She was around a lot when the construction was going on, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. She and Brenda worked together very closely. They seemed almost inseparable. In fact, and I don’t usually talk about these things, I was wondering if something could have been going on between them, if you get my drift.”

“Did you develop a friendship with her?”

“No.”

“Did she come to your church?”

“I see her in the congregation from time to time. I wouldn’t say that she attends on a regular basis.”

“And you never had a personal relationship with her?”

“No, Sheriff, never. And I hope you can see from this, by my answers, that I have had limited contact with these people and that my relationships have always been of a proper nature.”

“That appears to be the case, Mr. Gunne.”

“It is the case, Sheriff. I assure you. This is all very tragic. These were good people. And if there’s anything I can do to help your investigation, please let me know.”

“Well,” said Ray, “there is one thing. Would you be willing to come to the office and take a polygraph?”

Gunne was slow in responding. Finally he asked, “I would do that. When?”

“Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Just come to the main desk at our office and someone will make sure you get to the right place.” Ray stood and shook hands with Gunne, wondering if he would really show up.

44.

When Ray returned to the County Center, he saw Sue at the far end of the parking lot with Simone tethered on a long lead. After parking, he walked over to join her.

“No daycare today?” he asked as Simone ran to greet him.

“No daycare this week or next,” said Sue. “They’ve gone to Florida, said they needed a break from March in Michigan. How was his eminence, the Reverend Mister Gunne?”

“He affirmed again that he knows nothing about anything,” said Ray, picking up the wiggling terrier and absorbing a couple affectionate licks to the right cheek.

“I thought you’d find a way to squeeze him a bit.”

“He’s coming in for a polygraph tomorrow at 9:00,” said Ray, as he returned Simone to the ground.

“Cool,” said Sue as they walked back toward the office. “How did you do that?”

“I let him tell me all of his contacts with Manton, Kinver, and our Molly were strictly professional. Then I offered the opportunity for a polygraph.” Ray held the door for Sue and Simone. After they got to his office, with the door shut, Sue asked, “What does your gut tell you about Gunne?”

“He probably is not responsible for the crimes, but he’s no innocent. Right now he’s doing his best to distance himself from these events. He is in full protection mode. I’m sure a scandal wouldn’t be good for business. How did you do?” Ray asked.

“Interesting afternoon. First of all I attempted to call Elise Lovell. It appears that the Lovell landline has been disconnected, so I thought I’d drop by the house. They have this cute little place in the village close to the bay. It’s an old Victorian cottage, quite small, and beautifully restored. But the place appears to be empty. So I went next door and talked to the neighbor, a Mrs. Clara Galbraith. She says she remembers you as a little boy and says that she was a friend of your mother’s from church.”

“Clara Galbraith,” said Ray, “I think I remember her. I’m not sure.”

“Well, she’s a real chatty Cathy. Once you pull the string you can’t get her to shut up. Her hearing is probably mostly gone. It was difficult for me to get her to listen to my questions.”

“So did you learn anything?”

“I learned that this is a person you don’t want to live next to, even if you live the most exemplary life. She seems to spend most of the day watching everything that happens in the neighborhood. When I was finally able to get a few questions in, I learned that Joe Lovell has taken a one-semester teaching job at a small private college in Ohio. She said Joe told her that he hoped that it would lead to a full-time position. He and the kids made the move there in late January.”

“How about Elise?”

“Clara said that she sees Elise occasionally. That she was continuing to live in the area to keep her business going and supposedly making trips to Ohio on an irregular basis. Clara made it clear she didn’t understand this. A mother’s place was with her children. And then she launched into a long discussion about Elise and her lifestyle. It was hard for me to sort things out. In addition to being hard of hearing, I think the old dear is a bit dotty, also.”

“So you’re sort of stalled,” said Ray.

“No, not really. When I got back to the office I started a computer search. Elise Lovell does not pop up on any of the usual databases, no arrests under that name. So then I was wondering about her maiden name. The Internet is really wonderful. I found her wedding listed in her sorority newsletter, complete with her maiden name and hometown. Remember in our first interview with her, she mentioned that her husband had taught at Northern Illinois University. It appears that she was a student there also, at least as an undergraduate.”

“So did she study both chemistry and psychology?” ask Ray.

“That’s still a mystery,” said Sue. “I haven’t found the right sources for that yet. But finding her home town was very helpful.”

“Let me guess, you got into the archive of her hometown paper and got lots of information.”

“I’m not sure there’s a local paper. She’s from a small town in northwestern Illinois. I did talk to the sole detective in the local police department, a woman. She was very cagey and not forthcoming. I had to explain to her the case we’re working on and that Elise Lovell, nee Brickston, who grew up in her town, was one of many individuals whose background we are looking into. She told me she couldn’t talk about juvenile records that had been sealed by the court. And that almost sounded like the end of it. But then she said that if I showed up in person with suitable identification, she would steer me in the right direction.”

“We need to figure out how to get you there,” said Ray.

Sue chuckled. “Well, I know that the department has a ban on any unnecessary travel, but I have a reservation for the seven o’clock flight to Chicago. I’ll pick up a rental there and drive the rest of the way. With your permission, of course.”

“I’ll find the money somewhere,” said Ray.

“There’s one more thing,” said Sue, pointing to Simone, who was curled up and asleep in the one overstuffed chair in the office. “You’d have to look after her, but she’s really not much trouble. Just some food and water and a walk now and then. She goes to the door and makes a command bark. She’s very good at letting you know what she needs. Also, she will want to share your pillow. I hope you’re not averse to that.” Sue sat down a brown paper bag on the desk. “Here’s a supply of food for Simone, give her half a can at night and in the morning. She’s a bit of a picky eater, I’m afraid,” Sue added. “I should be only gone a day, two at the most. I’ve got to pack, and get to the airport. Brett is going to drive me.”

“You’ll keep me in the loop?”

“Yes. Which means that you have to keep your cell phone charged, Ray. That’s the number I’ll call you on.”