Old Chaos (9781564747136) Page 18

  “What’s her background?”

  Bjork snorted. “She doesn’t have any. Nobody from nowhere, that’s our Cate. Parrish was her first husband’s name. He was an actor or musician, died of an overdose.”

  In fact, Cate had gotten mileage out of her first husband’s death when she ran for office. She had strong ideas about expanding the county’s drug abuse programs.

  “She has a P.E. degree from some state college,” Bjork drawled. He had a Wharton MBA. Rob had checked. Cate’s degree was from UC Santa Barbara, hardly a backwater institution but certainly state-funded. Of the two, Cate struck Rob as being the more intelligent. Her stepson’s stupidity was beginning to annoy him.

  “She worked as an aerobics instructor. When Dad met her she was a personal trainer.” Warren Bjork’s voice put the term in quotation marks. “His assistant was having health problems, so Cate started keeping track of Dad’s social engagements, and the next thing we knew she’d replaced Mrs. Schulz. I don’t think my mother even noticed Cate. I sure didn’t. I still don’t understand the attraction. Cate was no great beauty, just another skinny blonde. She must have made Dad feel young or something.”

  Rob wondered if the first Mrs. Bjork had been a great beauty. He thought he might look into that if he had time. Right now he didn’t. “So there was a divorce and a property settlement.”

  “Had to be,” Bjork said with some complacence. “My mother’s family owns a chunk of Orange County. She has good lawyers.”

  Rob said mildly, “Then your grievance against the present Mrs. Bjork seems a little overblown.”

  Caution shuttered Warren Bjork’s eyes. “I don’t know that I have a grievance. I don’t like her, and I don’t trust her an inch, but I can’t prove anything against her. So far.” He rose. “I also don’t see how I can help your investigation. If that’s all?”

  Rob considered. “If you uncover financial improprieties that touch on the investment your father made with Drinkwater, I want to know about them.”

  Bjork looked mulish.

  “I mean it,” Rob said. “This is a murder investigation.”

  Bjork shrugged. “Okay. Whatever.”

  “You’ll be at the hotel?”

  “As long as I have a reason to stay. I’ve asked to look at Dad’s financial records. The lawyers are talking it over.”

  Rob shook hands, and the man left. Rob had learned very little, or rather he’d learned very little that could help his investigation of Drinkwater’s death. What he’d learned about Cate Bjork made him more sympathetic to her than he had been. He didn’t know why he had bothered checking up on her. He’d never suspected her of Drinkwater’s murder, but her husband’s connection to Fred’s business affairs puzzled him.

  If what Warren Bjork said was true, the amount Lars invested with Fred, though large, would have seemed trivial to the retired banker. Still, Lars could have been involved, at least in the beginning, in suppression of the hazard warning. If so, Ed Prentiss would find out. That left Rob with two chief murder suspects, Akers and Inger Swets, plus Darla Auclare. Of them, his money was on Inger. Still, he was a long way from proving anything, and he had yet to interview Darla. Or talk to Kayla about Fred. He reached for the phone.

  KAYLA TALKED TO Rob briefly on the phone before he was called away on another matter. That frustrated her. She didn’t think she had anything significant to tell him about Fred, certainly not about Fred’s finances, but she enjoyed hearing Rob’s voice. She was rather hurt that he hadn’t called her sooner.

  The next morning, after visits from flitting surgeons who were working up to the bone graft, she distracted herself by gossiping with three aides from her own care facility. They had made a special trip to Portland to see her on their day off, which touched her, and they brought her up to date on Patrick Wessel’s latest atrocities. She sent them off to shop at Nordy’s and thought about work. She wasn’t sure she could stand to go back, even if they’d have her.

  She drank a milkshake for lunch. Chewing hurt. Then her mother descended. Dede brought her a peach-colored frou-frou bedjacket Kayla wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. She thanked her mother like a good girl and sent her off to Saks. She gave the bedjacket to her favorite aide, who regarded it with wondering eye. Then she read a nursing journal and tried to start a paperback romance her friend, Barbara Olsen, had brought. The opening chapter gave her the giggles.

  A long time ago, Kayla had decided she wasn’t a romantic. She liked sex. She liked to party. She liked most men some and some men a lot. But the steroidal dude on the cover of the romance embodied the author’s vision of a man women would want, not Kayla’s. What Kayla wanted at that moment was conversation. She settled down to wait for Charlie.

  He finally showed up after her lonesome puréed dinner. He looked strange.

  “You got a haircut.”

  He nodded.

  “And you’re wearing a suit.”

  “Please!” He sounded insulted.

  “Well, a sports jacket and what, slacks? Is that a necktie I see peeking from your breast pocket? What’s the matter? Did you have to attend a funeral?” In fact, she thought he looked handsome, though not in the bloated style of the cover model.

  “Very funny. Job interviews.” He plunked down on the visitor chair. He looked so depressed her heart went out to him.

  “Never mind. Someone’s bound to hire you soon.”

  His mouth twisted in a wry grin. “I’ve had three offers so far.”

  “Three! Then I don’t see the problem. What do you want, Charlie?”

  He didn’t answer at once and frowned when he did. “I won’t work in Saudi. I turned that one down flat. I’m thinking about the other two.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to leave the area right now.”

  Kayla stiffened. She recognized the signs. He was going to fling himself onto his knees, declare his undying passion for her, and demand marriage. And she didn’t know how to let him down gently. He was going to ruin everything.

  He glanced at her. “Er, my cousin’s tangled in the murder investigation. He needs backup. Did I tell you they found the kids who attacked him?”

  Kayla’s neck muscles relaxed. “Yes. So did Rob. He called.” She felt relief and an unaccountable twinge of disappointment.

  “Ah. Then he probably told you the county clerk has gone missing.”

  “Inger? Good grief, no. Tell me.”

  “I don’t know much. Meg said Inger Swets apparently upped and left town. Her car’s missing. When she didn’t show for an appointment at the courthouse yesterday, the state detective called Rob, and Rob called her husband.”

  “And Larry didn’t know where she was either?”

  “You know him?”

  “I know who he is. Big guy. I know Inger a little. Was Larry out on his barge?”

  “He had a trip down the river as far as Portland, and she was gone when he got back. When she does that, she usually leaves him a note. Not this time.”

  “And she isn’t answering her cell?”

  He shrugged. “I just know what Meg said. Hey, are they going to let you go home for a while before they do the graft?” That was one of the issues her surgeons had been dealing with. They didn’t agree.

  Kayla told Charlie all about it. She got a little emotional, but he listened without too much sympathy. She found his matter-of-fact attitude comforting. He offered to take her to Klalo whenever she was allowed to leave.

  “In your ghastly pickup? No way.” An idea struck her. “You should be driving my car. I bet that old junker of yours slurps gas.”

  He blinked at her like a startled owl. “It does.”

  “Well, I’m not using the Civic. Go ahead. There’s an extra set of keys in the drawer by the kitchen sink.” She reached for the bedside table. “I forgot. There’s a set here, too. Barb brought it this morning.” Barb had rescued Kayla’s purse from her locker at the Beaver Creek Retirement Village.

  “I can’t borrow your car. Wh
at about insurance?”

  Kayla scrabbled in her purse. “Mine covers any driver with a valid license. Tiffany used the Civic all the time. She put a couple of dings in it.” One reason Tiffany was an ex-roommate. Kayla was fond of her little car. She could trust Charlie’s driving, though. She held out the keys. “The extra one is for the house.”

  Charlie hesitated but took them. “Thanks.”

  Kayla sucked in a sharp breath. “I just thought. What if they won’t let me drive anymore? Oh, God!”

  He said, “Your right eye’s gone, Kayla. The left is the one you need for driving.”

  That was true. She thought about it, panic ebbing. “I won’t be able to drive in England.”

  He laughed. After a moment, she did too. Sobering, she said, “Things are going to change, aren’t they?”

  He said gently, “They’re bound to. They always do.”

  Early that morning, Nancy Hoover, Beth’s dyslexic student and Maddie’s favorite lieutenant, found Inger’s car parked at a turnaround that overlooked the Choteau River above Two Falls. Ordinarily Nancy would not have stopped at the turnaround, car or no car, but she was on her way to school and in no hurry about it. Besides, local radio news had just reported Inger missing, and everybody knew the county clerk drove a vintage green Volvo. It was kind of a joke, that car. It was empty, no sign of the driver.

  As a good lieutenant should, Nancy called Maddie. Maddie told her to stay where she was, phoned Rob at home, and rang the high school office to explain Nancy’s absence. Nancy had a small problem with truancy. Jack was off fishing with a buddy, so Maddie hopped in the pickup and drove upriver.

  Anywhere else, the Choteau would have been considered a major river. Here it was just another tributary of the Columbia. Maddie loved every inch of it. It was in spate and roared cheerfully along the slope of the mountain, spray flashing in the morning light.

  Inger had parked at a spot with a great view of the water across a field of sword ferns. The turnaround overlooked the first of the two cascades that gave the town its name. It was tribal land but not true wilderness. A few fishing shacks clung to the rocks along the streambed. Maddie could see the Redfern place upriver—Jack and his brother Leon shared it—where the stream swept a wide curve. No lights showed in the cabin, not even the security light.

  She parked on the shoulder some distance from the graveled area in case the turnaround was a crime scene. As she got out, Nancy jumped from her battered Toyota and trotted over, cell phone in hand.

  “Hi, Maddie. What did Rob say?”

  “Sit and wait.”

  Nancy groaned. Patience was not her strong point. “I peeked in the car.”

  “You didn’t open the doors, did you?”

  Nancy looked injured. “You told me not to. Besides, they’re locked.”

  Maddie studied the girl’s broad, good-natured face as Nancy backed out of the phone conversation with which she had whiled away the fourteen minutes it had taken Maddie to get there. Everybody used cell phones now, though reception in the Gorge was spotty. She wouldn’t have parted with her own phone, but she wondered how much of the natural world kids would notice if they were constantly wired. Well, Nancy had noticed the Volvo.

  “Come and sit with me. Tell me all about it.”

  So Nancy did.

  Maddie listened to Nancy’s adventure and administered praise. That took time. Then she asked after brother Ben from whom Nancy had inherited the Toyota when he joined the army. Ben had just enlisted. Maybe the war would be over before he finished basic training. Fat chance.

  The first cop car drove up and parked beyond Maddie’s pickup. Rob got out of the passenger side. His left arm hung in a sling, and he was still moving stiffly.Jake Sorenson had driven him. Maddie liked Jake. He had been her nephew Todd’s partner when they were both in uniform.

  She introduced Nancy, and Rob and Jake shook hands with her. Rob called her Miss Hoover and thanked her for being alert and conscientious, but Maddie stood beside the girl and listened carefully all the same. It was not in her to give her full trust to any policeman, though she didn’t expect Rob to bully Nancy—he let her go after only a few questions. Maddie thought Nancy was disappointed, but she chugged off toward school and was on the cell phone again before she had driven ten yards.

  By that time the incident van had showed up, and after it, the state patrol officer who was investigating the missing landslide hazard warning. Maddie found the police consultations boring and began to cast about for an excuse to leave.

  One of the technicians was placing crime-scene tape around the graveled area. When Lt. Prentiss joined the others at the Volvo, she edged over to where Rob stood alone.

  “So what does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Rob. Nancy found the car out here on tribal land. That makes it my business.”

  He smiled a little. “It’s a county road.”

  “Don’t be picky,” she snapped. The tribal council could have contracted with the Yakama, who had a good-sized police force, but, for now at least, the county provided police services. The Kla-lo Nation was too small to field a full-time officer. Elected constables took care of minor problems and “attended” the deputies in domestic calls, but the disappearance of a white woman from a county highway was a county matter. Maddie didn’t intend to dispute that.

  She took the offensive. “I bet you were looking for Inger’s car somewhere else. Portland airport, for instance.”

  Rob didn’t answer her immediately. At last he said, “Prentiss sent out an APB. All police jurisdictions were looking for it. This road isn’t patrolled very often, partly because of your well-known distaste for police presence in your territory—”

  “Hey!”

  He held up his good hand. “And mostly because we’re short-staffed.”

  Maddie let that go. “If you’d found the car at the airport, you’d have known what to think, right? Admission of guilt. Flight to avoid prosecution.”

  “Been watching TV?”

  Maddie growled.

  Rob sighed. “Shrewd of you. Way out here, the car’s ambiguous. I don’t know what it means.”

  “Ha! Ambiguous? Inger committed suicide. If she threw herself in the river, she wouldn’t be the first.” At least three tribal members Maddie knew of had drowned in that stretch of river under circumstances that suggested suicide.

  Rob said wryly, “Or that’s what I’m supposed to think. Maybe Inger had a rendezvous here.”

  Maddie’s hackles went up. “Not with me she didn’t. I had no personal contact with Inger Swets. I voted for her. That’s it.”

  “You wanted me to speculate. The truth is, I don’t know what finding the car here means. I’m surprised. Blind-sided. I need to talk to Larry again.” He turned away from her as Prentiss came up.

  Prentiss acknowledged Maddie with a nod. “So what do you say, Neill? Suicide? We’ll have one hell of a time finding the body. That water’s high and fast. She could be in the Columbia already. Hell, she could be halfway to Astoria.”

  “Or hung up at Bonneville Dam,” Maddie said sweetly.

  Prentiss shot her a hostile glance. “Or that.”

  Rob frowned. “Where’s Jack?”

  “Out on the Columbia fishing.” Maddie didn’t elaborate. The commercial salmon season hadn’t opened yet.

  Rob wasn’t interested in Jack’s freewheeling attitude toward fishing restrictions. He turned to Prentiss. “Jack Redfern has to know every pool and eddy on the Choteau.”

  “I could call him,” Maddie offered. “He may be home by now.” Jack hadn’t intended to make a day of it. He just wanted to see how the salmon run was shaping up. She flipped her cell phone open and speed-dialed home.

  Jack answered with his mouth full. Breakfast. She could hear his friend Will in the background clanking pans. “Maddie,” Jack said to Will. To her he said, “Where’s the truck?”

  She explained what had happened in some detail. Jack li
stened without comment the way he usually did.

  “That’s not good,” he muttered when she wound down.

  “No. Here’s Rob Neill. He wants to talk to you.” She handed Rob the phone.

  Rob explained that they had to look where a body might come ashore, listened to Jack’s response, and said, “Okay. I appreciate the offer.” He handed the phone back to Maddie. “His friend will drive him over. Thank you, Chief Thomas.” He was being formal in the presence of the state detective. “You can leave now if you want to.”

  Maddie said, “If Jack’s going to take police onto trust land, I’m coming.”

  “I’m not.” Rob twitched the blue sling. “I’ll leave the search to Jack. Prentiss and Jake can go with him. No need to call in Search and Rescue until they’ve checked the likely spots.” He meant the places between the first cascade and the second where a body was apt to wash up.

  It was not raining but it had rained. The sword ferns would ooze water over anyone walking through them. Maddie decided to go home. She left Rob peering in the windows of the Volvo as the SOCO crew worked over Inger’s car. Maddie wondered whether they’d find a suicide note.

  There was no clue in the car as to what had happened to Inger Swets. When Jack didn’t find a body, Rob set a full search of the west bank of the river in motion. He got back to his office in the courthouse annex well after noon and found a message waiting for him from Meg, and a list of Drinkwater’s telephone calls, courtesy of Jeff, who was now working the financial angle.

  Rob rang Meg at the library. She announced that she was about to do battle with her insubordinate assistant, Marybeth Jackman, an unsuccessful rival for headship of the library system. Jackman had been doing her best to undermine Meg’s authority since Meg’s arrival last fall. It was time to confront her.