Breaking Ground (12 page)

Julie nodded. “So Mary Ellen's not from Ryland, but she lived here for about fifty years.” Julie was silently doing some
calculating. “Then Steven must have been born quite a bit later. He's in his mid-thirties, I think.”

“Probably. A lot of people thought Dan and Mary Ellen would never have children, but then Steven finally came along.”

Came along pretty late in the marriage, Julie thought. And Mary Ellen was disappointed that Steven and Elizabeth didn't have children yet? Interesting.

“Would it help, Dr. Williamson, if I just jotted down the dates for you? I had to make a little chronology for myself when I started on the papers.”

“That would be great! I really need to understand the family since we're going to be having a second Swanson building soon. Have you seen the excavation work?”

“Haven't been back there. Not something I wanted to look at.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.” Julie silently rebuked herself for the insensitivity of forcing poor Tabby Preston to contemplate the scene of Ryland's second bloody murder in a year. “Well, I should take a look at those Swanson papers, too, one of these days. You say Luke Dyer was looking at the ones you cataloged—that would be the grandfather's, Herbert's?”

“Yes. But you know, I don't keep track of exactly what researchers look at, just the general description, the box number and so forth.”

“Right. Just curious.” There, she had given herself away. Or maybe a little more than
just
curious. “I'll ask Luke myself when I see him. He's probably looking into some town history. Well, if you do have time to jot down those dates for the Swanson family, that would be really helpful. Sorry to keep you from your work on the doctor's papers.”

“I'll do that today. And I'll see you Monday, I'm sure.”

“Good. And thanks, Tabby.”

Tabby returned her attention to the papers piled on her desk, and Julie quietly exited from the library and returned to her office downstairs.

It was late in the afternoon when Mrs. Detweiller entered Julie's office and handed her a piece of paper: “For you. From Tabby. She said you asked for it.”

Julie had immersed herself in paperwork all afternoon and had lost track of time. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 4:30. Probably Tabby had dropped off the note on her way out. Mrs. Detweiller would be following immediately. And that meant Julie had the office to herself and could put away the business of the Ryland Historical Society that had occupied her for the last few hours and privately return to her notes. From the top drawer of her desk she pulled the manila folder in which she had placed the notes she had made after talking to Henry. She was ready to add to the folder some items she wanted to note from her conversation with Frank Nilsson this morning. But first she looked at Tabby's chronology:

Herbert Oakes Swanson, 1863–1932

Daniel Oakes Swanson I (“Old Dan”), 1888–1953

Daniel Oakes Swanson II (“Dan”), 1918–1997

Married Mary Ellen Leighton, 1951

Steven Leighton Swanson, 1965

Married Elizabeth Myerson, 1995

Julie noted again the odd parallel between the last two generations she had picked up from Tabby's comments. Old Dan had apparently not approved of his son's choice of wife, just as Mary Ellen didn't like Steven's, yet both marriages had occurred, Mary Ellen's and Dan's two years before the father's death. And then there was the fact that Mary Ellen and Dan had not had a child until well into their marriage, fourteen years, and Mary Ellen had been unhappy that Steven and Elizabeth, who hadn't been
married that long, hadn't yet produced an heir. So unhappy, in fact, that she was considering changing her will. To put pressure on the couple? Or to punish them?

None of this seemed especially relevant to the question that Julie's talk with Tabby had presented: Why was Luke Dyer reading the Swanson papers? Julie placed Tabby's chronology in the manila folder and took out her yellow pad to record what she hoped she hadn't forgotten from the conversation with Frank over breakfast. She had certainly succeeded in finding out more about him and a little about the condo development he was involved in, and then there was his sharp response to her suggestion that Mary Ellen had considered canceling the deal. Julie noted that very interesting fact on her pad and then started to jot down what she had learned about Nilsson's earlier work in developing retirement communities and his involvement with Ryland Skiway. The bare facts of his life she had already on his résumé. Early life and high school in southern Maine, attendance at Bowdoin (but still no sense of whether he had graduated—she was willing to bet he hadn't), meeting and marrying Patty. What was her name? Oh yes, Oakes—Nilsson had said she was from an old Ryland family and that Julie no doubt had seen the name.

Indeed she had! And just a few moments ago. She pulled Tabby's chronology from the folder, and there it was: Herbert, Daniel I, and Daniel II all carried the middle name of Oakes. Were Frank's wife and the Swansons related? And if so, did it matter?

The growling of her stomach reminded Julie that in the midst of tours, phone calls, talking with Tabby, and paperwork, she had completely forgotten about lunch. She was starved. It wasn't yet 5:30, but she felt the need to head home to see what Rich had decided on for dinner. The green folder with the Tabor letters sat unopened on her desk. Julie glanced at it and felt guilty. But less guilty than hungry.

Julie was especially glad Rich was such a good cook. She felt weak in the knees when she spied the ceramic dish holding two gorgeous swordfish steaks in a marinade. Next to it was a low bowl holding asparagus covered with lemon juice and black pepper. Big slices of fresh tomatoes and red onions were in a third dish, also marinating. A bowl of strawberries completed the picture. Julie really wondered if she would faint.

“I can grill the fish outside,” Rich said from behind her, “but I think we should eat inside. It's still pretty chilly.” He embraced her before she could turn and moved his hands gently from her waist up to her neck. “But unless you're in a hurry …”

“I'm starved!” she said as she wiggled around to face him. “I skipped lunch.”

“Oh,” he said with obvious disappointment. “I guess I could start the fire.”

“How long will that take?”

“Half an hour.”

“Just enough time,” she said and took his arm to lead him out of the kitchen. “I should take a shower anyway,” she added. “Go light the fire. I'll be upstairs.”

The dining room seemed too formal to Julie, or maybe she was put off by its location right across the hall from the living room where she had found Worth's body. Whatever the reason, she and Rich had avoided it so far. The kitchen was cozy, and without consulting Rich she set up for dinner there after she came downstairs. Rich was placing the asparagus in the oven to broil. “A little heat in here isn't such a bad idea,” Rich said as he stepped back from the oven. “How about some wine while the fish grills?”

“God, you're good,” Julie said as she chewed the first bite of the swordfish.

“I aim to please,” Rich said, raising his eyebrows in a mockwolfish way. “Everything tastes great when you're hungry. You really shouldn't work so hard.”

“I just got so involved in things that I forgot. This really is terrific,” she said as she took another forkful of the swordfish and then complemented it with the asparagus.

“What
things?
Historical society business, I hope, rather than—just to pick a topic at random—solving a murder?”

“What makes you think they're not connected?”

“What's not connected?”

“The Ryland Historical Society and Mary Ellen's murder?”

“Julie, you promised!”

“Well, they're obviously connected,” she continued. “Mary Ellen was killed
at
the historical society, and I'm beginning to think that it had to do with her gift. So …”

“There's no way I'm going to stop this, is there?” Rich asked. “Short of agreeing to do a jigsaw puzzle or something equally exciting.”

“We could do that.”

“Think I'll pass on that. Go ahead, tell all.”

“Well, if you really want to know,” she began. “Of course I told you a little about breakfast with Frank Nilsson, but here's what's really fascinating …”

“I'm afraid it's just strawberries for dessert,” Rich said nearly an hour later when both Julie's report and the main meal were done.

“They'll be perfect. Local?”

“I got them at that farm stand on River Road. Tomatoes, too, though they're obviously
not
local. Or not local to Ryland, Maine. Soon though.”

“They were fine. Everything was, Rich. I don't deserve you!”

“True, but what's a girl to do?”

“Well, I could end my report with a list of conclusions,” she offered.

“Why does that not surprise me? Okay, your conclusions, please.”

“My conclusions, in no particular order: One, Frank Nilsson is definitely a suspect. He was really ticked off that Mary Ellen might have hinted to me that she had second thoughts about the land deal.”

“Your reasoning?” Rich interrupted.

“Simple. If Mary Ellen backed out, Nilsson stood to lose a lot of money, or at least not
make
a lot. So he had a motive to kill her before the deadline, July fifth. And he's unhappy that someone—me—might know she was thinking about doing that. Ready for number two?” Rich nodded. “Luke Dyer is interested in the Swanson family, at least enough to start reading their papers in our archives, which isn't the sort of work he normally does. He's in the condo development with Nilsson, so he was also at risk if Mary Ellen canceled. Remember that it was Luke's father, Paul, who sold the land to Dan Swanson in the first place. Maybe he's trying to find out why, because if he owned the land instead of having to buy it back from the Swansons, he'd probably make a lot more money. And Frank Nilsson's wife may be related to the Swansons—her maiden name is Oakes, and that was the favorite middle name for Swanson men.”

“Pretty weak,” Rich said.

“Just because I don't have it figured out yet. But there's something funny about Luke Dyer's interest in the Swanson papers.”

“So you suspect Dyer, too?”

“For now, because like Nilsson he had a motive to kill Mary Ellen before the fifth of July. Remember when we were talking about this right after the murder? You said—or maybe I did—that the question isn't just
why
Mary Ellen was killed, but why at the excavation site. Maybe that's wrong; maybe the real question isn't
where
she was killed but
when
. If the timing's important, then Nilsson and Dyer had a motive—each of them individually, and even together—a shared reason to do her in before July fifth.”

“I see what you mean about timing, Julie, but don't you also have to add Steven Swanson to the list for the same reason?”

“Absolutely! Both Steven and Elizabeth had a reason to kill her before she changed her will, which she told them Tuesday morning she was going to do. So they're definitely on the list.”

“Beyond the list, do you have any more conclusions?” Rich asked as he stood to begin clearing the table.

“Two more, actually. First, that I don't know nearly enough about town history, and especially the families and how they're connected. I've got to find out more about local genealogy. And second, I don't know enough about the condo development.”

“I can't help you with the first one, but I might be able to help with the second,” Rich said. “Coffee?”

“Think I'll skip—it'll keep me awake. How can you help about the condo development?”

“Indirectly. Are you still off tomorrow?”

Julie said she was. It was Saturday, after all, and she had arranged with volunteers to handle tours.

“Good,” Rich continued, “because I've been looking into routes for a hike. It's supposed to warm up tomorrow but still be cool enough for hiking.”

“I could do with a hike.”

“Me, too. So I found a trail that runs from the river back to the west over Sutter's Mountain. Let me get the map.” Rich went to the shelf along the window, rummaged through some items, and extracted a large topographical map. “See, it's right here.” He pointed to the trail marked on the map he spread on the kitchen table. “It follows the ridge to just above a brook, and then you drop down beside the brook and come back in at the river, about three miles west. We could just walk back on the road by the river, or we could leave a car out there and drive back. Anyway, it looks pretty good to me—nice views, and probably four to five hours if we use two cars.”

“That looks great, but what does this have to do with the condo development?”