Murder Under the Tree Page 10

  “Kay.” I looked over at Deirdre, who was staring intently at her screen. “Robert Peterson received his MBA at the University of Chicago. He was Executive Vice-President at Marquette Financial, Chicago for fifteen years. Then Co-President of Stanley Chase for twenty-five years. What's he doing in Sudbury Falls?”

  I told Deirdre about his buying Hawthorne Hills. “Although it seems like acquiring Hawthorne Hills would be small potatoes for him. Deirdre, is there any more coffee?”

  While Deirdre was in the kitchen I thought about how I was suspicious of Robert being in the Home when someone tried to kill me. Now that I knew that he was to be the new owner of Hawthorne Hills, well, that was a good enough reason why he might be there.

  Deirdre came back into the room carrying the coffee pot. “When you think about it, there isn't any privacy anymore with the internet.”

  I snickered. An ironic thing to say as we both were doing background checks.

  I looked down at my screen. Nancy K. Reinhardt, alias: Nancy Kathleen Reinhardt has lived in: Sudbury Falls, Wisconsin; Two Rivers, Wisconsin; Green Bay, Wisconsin. Connections: Sheila Reinhardt.

  I went into my purse, took out a credit card, and paid for a criminal check on the director. It only took a minute or two. “Doesn't look like Nancy has a criminal record.”

  Deirdre shrugged her shoulders, took a sip of her coffee, and returned to her keyboard. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Next I keyed in Les Hollings’ name. Nothing. Nothing? No record at all! Could it be that Les was a nickname? I tried Lester, Leslie. I looked up. “Deirdre, can you think of any name besides Lester or Leslie that Les could be short for?”

  She paused. “No. Are you spelling his last name correctly? Are you using one L or two.”

  I keyed in Holings. Nothing. What would explain this?

  Going back to Nancy, I said aloud, “Nancy, where did you work before Sudbury Falls?” as I keyed in her name to check on her employment history. “Bingo! Harbor's Edge Village. Two Rivers. She worked there for five years. That's almost as long as she's been in Sudbury Falls.”

  “That's a start.”

  “There's a phone number. I'll give them a call. See what kind of an employee she was. If she left on good terms. Or if she scammed residents into putting her in their wills,” I said facetiously.

  “Anything on Les yet?”

  “Les Hollings obviously got a paycheck. He must have a social security number.”

  “Could be Les Hollings isn't his real name.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. I searched a lot of public record sites. Nothing. It's like he's off the grid.”

  “Now, what will you do?” Deirdre asked.

  “Leg work.”

  “Huh?”

  “I need to find a connection between Les and someone, anyone. Talk to the right people.”

  “I'm going to call Elizabeth after she gets home from work,” Deirdre said. “Find out how her lunch went with Robert.”

  “Let me know. I've got to get going. Thanks for the scones and the stellar card!”

  After lunch I went to Hawthorne Hills, and headed straight down to Viktor's office in the basement. He was eating what smelled like a corned beef sandwich. He started to get up when he saw me.

  “Viktor, sorry to interrupt you while you're eating,” I said. “I'll come back.”

  “No, that's okay. What can I do for you?” He took another bite of his sandwich and tossed a couple of potato chips in his mouth.

  I closed the door. “I appreciate you letting me stay. I have a few questions about Les.”

  I waited a few moments while he finished chewing, but he had the bag of chips in hand and showed no signs of slowing down.

  “I get the feeling you also don't think his death was an accident,” he said. “You think Les was murdered, don't you?”

  That was rather a strange comment. Why wouldn't I, after what he told me at our last encounter? I watched as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, then took a bigger bite of his sandwich. Mustard squished out of the bottom of the sandwich and landed on his desk. Was his eating his way of avoiding a conversation with me? Or was eating just his response to grief? Or was he always this enthusiastic about his lunch? Either way, I didn't give up that easily.

  “The circumstances are suspicious,” I said. “Others at the tea had the same allergy as Les. They didn't have any reaction to the food.”

  His eyes watered. He stood up holding on to his sandwich, looking away as if he didn't want me to see his reaction. Then he popped the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and turned back to me. “Do you know where Les lived before he came to Sudbury Falls?” I asked. “Chelsey said she started the same day as Les.”

  He stared at his soda then took a swig. “Some small town in eastern Wisconsin. Why? What would that matter?”

  “I thought if someone wanted to do Les harm, it might be someone from his past.”

  He seemed hesitant. Was he holding something back? Or was Les' past just as much a mystery to Viktor as it was to me? “I can't think of anyone who would want to harm Les. He was the kindest, big-hearted guy. Everyone—” Viktor's eyes filled up with tears. He looked away. “—loved him.”

  I felt bad for him. “Viktor, the last time we met, you almost said the name of a resident Les saw Nancy in an embrace with, in his apartment. Could you please tell me who that was? It could be very important.”

  He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.”It was James Barnowski.” Viktor shook his head. “I have no idea why him. I have thought about this so often. Barnowski has a humorless disposition, a really unpleasant old bastard. I've heard the guy is filthy rich, but there are many well-to-do gentlemen here with a lot better temperaments.”

  Oh my gosh, James Barnowski was Uncle Ben's friend. Viktor didn't seem to share Ben's opinion of James.

  I tried hard to hide my surprise. “Did Les ever mention others?”

  “Yes. Les heard her set up a time to meet with a different man in his room. But his wasn't a garden apartment.”

  Viktor sat back down. “Les said that Nancy always seemed to be chummier with the richer fellows, the ones who didn't have family or anyone coming around.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “He planned to start keeping track of her targets.”

  I wonder if he had, and Nancy had found out. “Why didn't Les go to the police?”

  “It would have been his word against hers. His wouldn't have meant anything, her being the director.”

  It might have if any of those men had died and their wills checked. I leaned forward in my chair. As long as Viktor was talking, I might as well get as much information as I could. Maybe I could get clues to some other suspicions of wrongdoing. “Did Les mention anyone else? Someone who might have died suddenly?”

  “What are you talking about...murder? That's another whole ballgame.”

  Well, if there was reasonable suspicion that Nancy had murdered Les, he might not be her only victim. This seemed to come as a surprise to Viktor, though. “I don't know, I'm just asking questions.”

  Viktor looked thoughtful. “There was another man Les mentioned that did die, but in his sleep. He was in his late eighties.”

  It would be hard to prove anything there. Although it would be easy enough to kill an elderly person without leaving any traces. I decided to switch gears. “Did Les ever talk about his past?”

  Viktor sniffed, then looked back at me. “Only that he was a foolish, crazy kid....like all of us. Did crazy things.”

  “Such as?”

  Viktor started rolling up his sandwich bag, not answering my question. What was he holding back?

  “Was Les Hollings his real name?”

  He looked at me and squinted. “Lady, why would you ask that?”

  “I'm trying to help here. Trying to find out something, anything about him.” I looked Viktor right in the eye. “And I am having trouble finding any information at all on a ‘Les Hollings.’”

  Viktor returned my gaze. “A
s far as I know, he was Les Hollings. Listen, if someone tried to kill Les, I want to find that out as much as you do. I want to cooperate. I'll look around his apartment again. See if I can find anything out.”

  “You have the key to his apartment?”

  “Of course I had his. He had mine.” His voice sounded angry. Loud. He paused then said softly, “Sorry. We had each other for such a short while. I don't know what I am going to do without him.”

  I put my hand on his upper arm. “I am so sorry.”

  “I did let the police in to look around the apartment already.”

  The police? Maybe Police Chief Kirk did think this was more than an accidental death. I wouldn't mind taking a look myself. “Really?”

  “His address book was in his apartment. They needed to know the contact information of his next-of-kin. The Home didn't have it.”

  I lowered my head and sighed. “Oh.”

  “We found his sister's phone number, actually his twin that he didn't see too often. After the police left, I called her and said I would start packing up his belongings.”

  “Les had a twin?” I'll need to talk to her. “What's her name?”

  “Melissa. She's coming to town the day after New Year's. Couldn't get here before that. That's when we'll have Les' burial. A small, private burial.”

  Maybe I shouldn't ask this. “Can I call on you again?”

  “Kay, I know you are trying to help. It might be more comfortable for both of us if you come to my apartment to talk more.”

  “That'd be great. When?”

  “How about tomorrow. I get off at five o'clock.”

  “I'll be there at five thirty. What's your address?”

  * * * *

  When I came up the stairs into the lobby, Nancy stood at the lobby desk. I made a detour to avoid her. I looked at the directory and went down the hall to James Barnowski's apartment and knocked on his door. After waiting a good minute, I knocked again, waited, then left.

  I went back through the lobby and decided to try Dr. Lee again. He was in his office talking to a woman. I knocked on the door.

  “Sorry to bother you, Dr. Lee. I've come by a couple of times wanting to speak with you. Can I have a minute when you are finished here?”

  “Come in now, Kay and meet our new resident nurse, Celine Winterberg.”

  The blonde woman sitting in the chair turned around and stood up. “Please to meet you, Kay.”

  Oh...my... gosh! Celine was the woman walking past the herbal shop with Robert Peterson the night I was painting with Deirdre. I closed my gaping mouth for a second, and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Kay, Dr. Lee has spoken highly of you and told me that you tried to save Les. I only wish I had been at work that day.” Her smile showed concern.

  We shook hands. She looked older close up than I thought she was.

  Dr. Lee interjected, “Kay, what did you want to see me about?”

  Still surprised about Celine, I had to think for a minute. “Oh...I just wanted to ask you why the food at Les' table wasn't saved as evidence, despite your request to do so.”

  “I felt bad about that. After I spoke to Chief Kirk, Nancy called me into her office. She had questions regarding the report she was making on Les' death. Before I left, as you said, I told the kitchen staff to be sure and have the food packaged up. When I returned, I learned it had been thrown into the garbage with the rest of the food. Let me tell you, the Chief of Police was angry that protocol wasn't followed.”

  Celine put her hand on Dr. Lee's shoulder. “Don't feel bad, Mark. It was accidental.”

  Accidental? The woman who was out with Robert Peterson at midnight and now touching Dr. Lee’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed uncomfortably intimate, was saying it was accidental, as if she had been there and knew what she was talking about! Who was this woman? I was tired of hearing the word “accidental” in regards to this entire situation. A man was dead. And the same “accidental” explanation given. I needed to get out of here before I lost my temper.

  Before leaving, I asked, “Celine, are you the one who makes sure that the epi-pens are available in the kitchen and dining room?”

  “Yes. I make sure they are full and haven't gone past their expiration dates.”

  “I was told the epi-pens were missing from the dining room and kitchen when Les went into anaphylactic shock.”

  She gave me an strange look. “Odd. I checked them that week. There was a full supply.”

  I made my excuses and left. Earlier in the week, there were plenty of epi-pens stocked in the kitchen and dining room. Sometime before Les' death they had been removed by someone. Or else Celine was a liar? Someone was either a thief or a liar, or both.

  When I came out of the room, I had the eerie sensation of being watched. Nancy stepped forward out of the dark room next door into the hallway. I jumped. She must have been listening. I looked at her and kept walking towards the exit.

  “Kay!” she called out. “Could I have a word with you, please?” Heavy emphasis on the last word.

  I turned around, nodded, and followed her into her office. She motioned to a chair. I sat down. She shut the door and sat behind her desk. Her chair must have been elevated, since I was taller than her and she looked down at me. Probably felt it gave her a feeling of superiority when speaking to the staff.

  In a cold tone, she started, “Kay, the kitchen staff has been complaining about you bothering them with questions about Les' death. This has got to stop. Quit stirring up trouble.”

  “Nancy, can you please answer one simple question? How did the peanuts get into the caretaker's food?”

  Nancy's voice was tense. Horizontal creases appeared across her forehead. “I've said all of this before. Over and over again. We don't use peanut products...period! Are you bothering the owner of the patisserie as well?”

  “I know Marissa. She's very conscientious.”

  “Conscientious, perhaps, but beyond reproach? We are conscientious here as well. That doesn't mean mistakes couldn't be made, but not in this kitchen. We check everything twice to make sure that there are no allergens, which means no peanuts!”

  I would have loved to tell her about Chelsey finding the jar of peanut butter.

  “If you think there's some kind of conspiracy to plot murder going on here, you've been reading too many mystery novels. And you've got a better imagination than Anne Niven.”

  I looked longingly toward the door, but the tirade continued. “You're upsetting the staff. You lack any reason for your inquires. I'm asking you to refrain from this or I'll...”

  She stopped, her mouth opening and closing several times, at a loss for words. Was she trying to threaten me?

  Her eyes bulged behind her spectacles. Finally she found her voice. “...bring in the authorities!” She finished shrilly.

  She picked up a pencil and bounced the rubber eraser end on her desk a few times. She gave an accomplished smile, and waited for my response.

  I said nothing.

  “And keep away from Viktor. I imagine he's who you were speaking with earlier. Limit yourself to your friends here.”

  The clock struck three. I got up and left her office without saying a word.

  I heard her say, “Give my regards to Phil,” as I started down the hall.

  Jerk! Bringing Phil into it. She was obviously trying to spook me, but she was definitely bluffing. No way did she want to get the “authorities” involved, considering all the secrets that she harbored. Calling the police would do her a lot more harm than it would do me.

  It was sleeting out when I left the Home. The cold against my face was a welcome break from the heat of my dislike for Nancy. I got into my car. I wasn't in any mood to go to the clinic to look up Lola's chart. That would have to wait until tomorrow.

  * * * *

  Our dinner reservations were for seven o'clock that evening. Gatsby's was the closest thing to a romantic restaurant that we had gone to in a long time. Dim lights, candles o
n the tables, warm teak interior, cozy tables in the corner for intimate conversation. It fit the bill close enough. When we came in, Phil asked to be seated at a table by the front windows, which were closer to the stage where they would be playing New Year's Eve.

  We ordered drinks and started out with a lineup of tapas from Middle Eastern to Catalan. Sort of strange, since this was more of an English pub type restaurant, but the owners knew how to recognize a food trend in its heyday. Last year, it was sushi.

  A large gold leaf mirror hung on the wall. While Phil and I talked, I looked up at the mirror and watched as Nancy Reinhardt and Shelia Harris were led to a table against the side wall by the stage. I didn't realize they were such good friends that they would dine together at a restaurant, Nancy and Sheila. Hmm. Perhaps it was a business dinner.

  The waitress brought our entrees. I had the grilled wild salmon and Phil, red wine-braised short ribs. Phil kept looking in the direction of the two women.

  “Phil, what are you looking at?” I asked, hoping the women wouldn't notice Phil staring at them.

  “The stage area. It's kind of small. I hope our equipment fits on it.”

  He hadn't even noticed Nancy. Still, Phil, try paying attention to your wife on your anniversary!

  “Think I'll go over there and see how many outlets there are.” He put his napkin on the table and started to get up.

  “Sit down! Not now!” I said a bit too loud. “We're eating!”

  He caught my eye, smiling at me with the barest hint of acknowledgment. He sat back down. “By the way, we could invite Nancy and her friend over to join us for dessert.”

  He had noticed them!

  Then he broke out laughing. “Kay, you should have just seen your face.” He leaned forward and kissed me on my cheek.

  I looked in the mirror and saw Nancy and Sheila looking over at us. Their heads moved towards each other. Minutes later, after getting the attention of the waiter, they left. As they passed by the window where we sat, they both looked the other way. They got into a car down the street.

  “Nice friends.” Phil burst into laughter. “It's pretty obvious they left because of you.”

  “Don't forget, Nancy was your friend,” I said with a smile.