Breaking Ground (29 page)

“I'm not sure I follow, Frank.” Julie shifted away from him.

“Just keep your eyes on the ball, Julie,” he said as he held the scoop in front of him. The metal portion
did
resemble a ball. Was that what he was trying to illustrate? she wondered. “The construction project,” he added. “If I were you, I'd let someone else deal with stuff like the archives. You were very nice to have a look at Patty's family papers, and I know you keep track of what goes on in the library. But Tabby Preston can handle all that. No need for you to worry about things like the old Oakes diary, or papers and letters and the like. It'd be better for you to let others do that so you can concentrate on the project. Just a word to the wise, Julie—advice from someone who's been around the block.”

As he spoke, Frank was looking intently into Julie's eyes. Then he turned and walked toward the heater and replaced the scoop in
the bucket. The message Julie got came as much from Frank's look as from the words—or even the scoop that he used like a baton to accompany them. Was it kindly advice? Or a warning? Julie really wasn't sure. Before she could respond, he turned back to her and held up the timer. “Couple of minutes left, but I think I hear Patty and Rich. Shall we try that Akvavit?”

The Akvavit, icy cold, went rapidly from Julie's mouth to her stomach to her brain. She felt momentarily disoriented, woozy from the steamy heat, unsteady enough to take Rich's arm for support. “Eat some sausages and crackers,” he told her. A few nibbles helped, but she continued to hold onto him. Patty noticed and asked if Julie was okay.

“I think so,” she said, uncertain if that was true.

“Better stick to one shot,” Frank said pleasantly. “Pretty powerful stuff. Why don't you folks take a cool shower and get dressed? I guarantee you'll feel better then, Julie.”

The concern for her well-being was so obvious in Frank's words and tone that Julie had trouble connecting what he had just said to what he had said to her in the sauna. Actually, she had trouble connecting much right now and was happy Rich took over. He guided her into the changing room and into the shower.

The pulsing water revived her.

“That Akvavit really hit you.”

“I guess so, but I think it was more than that. In the sauna, when you and Patty were gone, Frank talked to me about the historical society, about being willing to join the board later, and then about how I should focus on the construction project and not get involved in diaries and letters. ‘Keep your eyes on the ball'; ‘a word to the wise.' It was really strange—I think it was a warning. And he was sort of brandishing that water scoop while he talked, twirling it around.”

“Threatening you?” Rich asked, alarmed.

“Not exactly. Maybe just a nervous thing, wanting to hold something while he talked. I don't know, Rich—maybe I just got too hot in there and was imagining things.”

“Or maybe Akvavit's not your drink,” he said, adjusting the water temperature.

“Too cold!” Julie said.

“No, it's good this way—bracing. It'll wake you up.”

They took turns standing directly under the shower, but after two turns Julie said she was cool enough. “And wide awake,” she added. “I can see how this works—warming, cooling, warming, cooling. Have to admit it's refreshing.”

Although the shower hadn't fully washed away Julie's concerns about Frank's comments in the sauna, nor his hand on her leg, which she decided not to tell Rich about at least for now, by the time they had dried and dressed and gone upstairs she was feeling relaxed and actually eager for dinner. After dinner they returned to the family room in the basement, Julie making sure she was beside Rich and across from Frank and Patty. Just before ten o'clock, the pent-up emotions of the last few days, combined with the aftereffects of the sauna and the wine and food, hit her with an almost physical force. She suddenly felt too exhausted to say another word. Rich and Frank continued to talk with animation, now focused on that perennial New England summer topic: the Boston Red Sox's chances this year. If they didn't leave now, Julie thought, Rich would surely have to carry her to the car. Patty sat up alertly when Julie interrupted the baseball talk to say they should be leaving. Julie hoped they hadn't overstayed their welcome, but Frank was pleasant and talkative as he walked them upstairs and out to the driveway. “We'll do it again,” he promised as he waved good-bye.

“Nice evening, except the part about the threat,” Rich observed as he drove out of the residential area and came onto the access road just below the ski lodge.

“I didn't say it was a threat, exactly. I'm too tired to even talk about it. Sorry I pooped out,” Julie said. “Everything just hit me at once. It's been such a crazy week. I'm so glad you're here!”

“Happy to be your guard dog for the night. Think you'll be able to sleep?”

“I'll be lucky if I can stay awake to crawl up the stairs to the bedroom.”

She was able, but once she hit the bed she was out instantly.

The alarm clock said 12:25 when she awoke with a start. The memory of Wednesday night flooded in on her, but this time it wasn't a noise downstairs that woke her. What woke her was Frank Nilsson. They were alone in the sauna, and he was wielding a shovel instead of the water scoop, and calmly but menacingly walking toward her through the steam and repeating “a word to the wise,” “a word to the wise.” The steam was filling the sauna, becoming thicker, covering her like a hot blanket. And still Frank kept coming, getting closer now, and still repeating that phrase. She shuddered and grabbed desperately at the blanket to tear it off her. And that woke Rich.

“Sorry!” she said as she sat up. “I had a bad dream.”

“It's okay … I'm here. Don't think about the other night.”

“I wasn't. I was dreaming about Frank Nilsson. In the sauna. Rich, it was really scary. I mean, when he talked to me in the sauna about staying away from the business of the diary and the letter, I sort of sensed it was a warning, but I wasn't scared. I guess I really was but didn't let myself think it then. But now I'm sure he was threatening me, warning me.”

“About?”

“About not trying to put things together, to figure it out.”

“This is why I'm so worried about all this, Julie. You may not have any idea what you're getting into. You don't really know these people.”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry. Let's finish this conversation in the morning.”

When they woke at 6:30 on Saturday morning, Julie felt more rested than she'd expected. They lay in bed and talked quietly,
Julie reviewing her dream and her unease about Frank, Rich mostly listening but interjecting occasional questions.

“And the shovel—did I tell you my idea about that?” she asked. “That definitely needs to be checked out right away,” she resumed before he could respond.

“Okay, okay,” Rich said when she finished. “Maybe. But I think we need a good long run to clear our heads.”

She agreed, and as they did a cool-down walk across the Common, Rich said, “We've earned it.”

“What?”

“Breakfast. A big, high-calorie feast, with lots of coffee. Let's go to the diner and indulge ourselves.”

“I'm beginning to appreciate the value of running,” she said.

The Saturday-morning crowd was different than the weekday customers. No carpenters and plumbers starting their day over coffee and gossip, no businessmen like Frank Nilsson. In fact, at eight when they arrived, the diner was nearly empty. Two young couples dressed for hiking occupied one table, and a woman sat at the counter reading the paper. Otherwise, they had the place to themselves.

“So the shovel does seem to be key,” Rich said after they placed their order. “You should just tell Barlow your idea and then drop the whole thing, Julie.”

“What idea would that be,” a voice said. Julie and Rich both turned to locate the source of the words. “Had a funny feeling I'd find you here,” Mike said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please,” Julie said. “How come you thought we'd be here?”

“I saw you running this morning, and when you didn't answer at the house later, I guessed you'd be here. Rewarding yourself for running.”

“It was Rich's idea,” Julie said.

“But you didn't disagree,” Rich pointed out.

“Julie's gotten to be a regular here,” Mike said. “Pretty soon they'll be giving you your own mug. Thanks, Doris,” he said to the waitress who handed him a cup of coffee. “Like mine—see?” He held up a mug that said
CHIEF OF POLICE.

“You were looking for me?” Julie prompted.

“Right. But let me just order.” He beckoned for the waitress and said, “The usual, Doris. So,” he said, turning to Julie, “I figured you'd be interested in what I found out about Frank Nilsson.”

“As a matter of fact,” Julie said, “I have something to tell you about him, but go ahead.”

“You remember Frank said he spent the night at the camp in Boothbay? I called there—didn't expect an answer, but their son was there, Ted. Seems he's working on Frank's project and using the cabin. I told him I was checking out that famous auto accident we had here, and it turns out his dad came down Wednesday afternoon to check on the project.”

“So his alibi checks out,” Julie said, with clear disappointment in her voice.

“Did I say that? Matter of fact, Ted says his dad left around seven to drive back to Ryland. Didn't spend the night.”

“Wow! That means he lied to you—and that he did it. Or he could have.”

“The first thing you said is true: Frank
did
lie to me, and I mean to sort this out with him. As to the other things, we'll have to see. I'm going to go talk to Frank this morning, but the reason I was looking for you is that I wanted to find out more about that diary. Figure it might be useful to bring that up at the right moment, just to see his reaction. So tell me again why you think it's important.”

Julie explained that if the Oakes diary did contain information about a survey of the Birch Brook land, and that information was
used in settling the dispute in the nineteenth century, then Frank might want to keep it from being discovered. “Patty was surprised it wasn't in the boxes,” she reminded him, “and Frank is the one who brought the boxes from the rental storage place. So he could have taken it.”

“That's helpful. Just in case. Now I need to find out where he was Wednesday night. So,” he added, as he tucked into his eggs, “you said you had something to tell me about Frank.”

Julie told him about Frank's comment in the sauna. Recalling Clif Holdsworth's warning about not attributing to him the information about Frank's indebtedness, she confined herself to speculating that the Birch Brook development must be putting a financial strain on both Frank and Luke.

“Typical real estate project,” Mike said. “Using someone else's money is the way to go. But come back to last night, Julie. Did you really think Frank was threatening you?”

“He didn't say ‘If you do this, I'll do that.' It wasn't that kind of a threat. But it was certainly a warning.”

“ 'Course, I've done the same myself,” Mike said with a laugh. “I think even Rich here has been guilty of trying to keep you out of things, am I right?” Rich quickly admitted his guilt.

“But he really was warning me off, Mike,” Julie insisted. “I feel sure of that.”

“Okay. I think I'll head up to the skiway to have another chat.”

“Have you confirmed Frank's story about being at home with Patty the morning Mary Ellen was killed?” Julie asked.

“Not yet. Maybe I can talk to her, too. Have to see how it goes.”

“That might be a problem,” Julie said. “Patty is going to their camp this morning. She might already be gone.”

“Well, if I can talk to Frank alone it might actually be better. I can always confirm the other story with Patty another time. You
going to be around later today?” Julie said she and Rich would be at the house because he had papers to read. “Okay,” Mike said, “I'll give you a call if I find out anything you should know. Hope that won't interrupt your work, Rich.”

“The only way to read student papers,” Rich said, “is with a lot of interruptions. We'll be there.”

When the policeman left, Julie said, “Rich, this is it! It's all coming together now. I told you it would. I just wish I could go with Mike when he talks to Frank.”

“Settle down!” Rich said. “Finish your coffee and relax. There's nothing for you to do till you hear from him.”

“No, there
is
something to do. Remember about the shovel?”

“I thought you were going to tell him that.”

“I was, but then after what he said I just forgot. But that doesn't mean we can't check ourselves.”

“True, but it doesn't seem right to do that on our own until Mike talks to Nilsson.”

“I guess that's fair enough. And it shouldn't take too long. Mike said he'll call. So maybe we should go home and wait to hear.”

“I've got plenty to do, Julie—a carload of papers to read.”

“What a thrill!”

Her only teaching had been as a graduate assistant while she was working on her PhD, but it had been enough to make Julie sympathize now with Rich as he faced the stack of papers on the kitchen table. She had transferred the State of Maine puzzle, still incomplete, to a folding table and sat down there just a little away from him.

“You don't miss the academic side at all, do you?” Rich asked as he thumbed through the stack as a way of delaying the hard work.

“Not really,” Julie said. “Remember I never taught full-time.” She added after a pause, “Besides, I like running things. Oh, I know, Ryland Historical Society isn't the Smithsonian or even a state museum, but it's big enough for me now—and I'm responsible for it.”