Dead Deceiver (8 page)

Osborne glanced down to see she was gripping the black leather folder in her lap so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Appearing uncomfortable with his wife’s words, Charles shifted in his chair, his soft eyes seeking Lew’s as if to convey a secret message.

Again a spark of something. The guy had charisma, Lew would admit that.

“Has there been any damage or theft at your home?” asked Lew, clearing her thoat. “Locks broken? Your security system tampered with?”

“We have no security system,” said Patience. “That’s why we moved here. We feel—or we
felt,
anyway—safe. Half the time we don’t even lock our doors. Ever since I was a child, coming to Loon Lake in the summertime, this town has seemed to be a lovely community with lovely people. Why would we need a security system?”

Lew studied the top of her desk for a long moment before saying, “I suggest you lock your doors.”

“We have—I mean,
I
have,” said Charles. “Ever since Patience started worrying over this, I have made sure our doors are locked at night and whenever no one is home. But we don’t have a security system.”

“Let’s go back to damage or theft,” said Lew. “Anything unusual or missing from your home? Any tampering with your cars—evidence someone has been in or around the garage? The boathouse? Any person you are aware of who might be holding a grudge against you? Or your wife?”

“No,” said Patience and Charles simultaneously.

Lew shook her head. “Then what makes you so sure you’re being stalked?”

“I wish we could give you tangible proof and I know we sound nuts—but Charles and I agree—don’t we, sweetheart?” Patience looked at her husband, who gave a reluctant nod. “We
sense
that someone is entering our home when neither of us is there. The only real evidence we have is that one time the laptop computer in my home office was left on.”

“You agree, Charles?” asked Lew. “It wasn’t left on by mistake by either of you?”

“No … I really don’t think so,” said Charles. “Patience, I think you should tell them about your office at the college.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure about that.” Patience threw a look of dismay at her husband.

“Tell them anyway.” It was the first time Charles had sounded authoritative.

“Well … okay. Chief Ferris, I am pretty sure someone goes into my office at the college when I’m traveling, away at meetings or in the evenings after hours. But,” she shrugged, “thing is that could be a staff person who just needs a computer. We have an open door policy at the college and nothing has ever been missing.

“What about the college security?” said Lew. “You must have security personnel and cameras there?”

“No security cameras. We’re a college, not a shopping mall,” said Patience. “You have to realize my father endowed the college because he wanted a comfortable setting in a region that desperately needed a technical college where students can learn construction, plumbing, electronics, computer repair, CAD/CAM design, welding—all the basic building trades and skills that rural communities need. We have only three hundred and fifty students who all work hard and our faculty has impeccable credentials. These are not people who would steal or hurt one another.”

“So you have an honor system,” said Lew.

“Yes. I can’t think of anyone at the college I don’t trust. Even our maintenance crew has been with us since we opened the campus five years ago.”

“All right. Let’s go back to square one. You have no tangible evidence or sightings of a specific individual following you but you are convinced that you are being watched, correct?”

Patience nodded.

Lew continued, “Do you have a sense they mean to do harm?”

“If you’re wondering am I fantasizing a guardian angel, no,” said Patience. “I feel threatened. I don’t even walk after dark anymore.”

Lew set down the pen with which she had been taking notes and said in a kind voice, “Dr. Schumacher, I suggest you hire a private security firm to keep an eye out for anyone approaching your property. I’m afraid that until you have something more concrete, we can’t help you.

“The Loon Lake Police Department—
and
the county sheriff’s office—we are all severely understaffed for the next ten days with the international fishing tournament taking place. While we have reinforcements from the surrounding towns and counties, we just don’t have the personnel—”

A sudden buzzing from the purse alongside Patience’ chair prompted her to reach down for her cell phone and check the incoming call.

“Oh, dear, it’s my lawyer,” she said. “I really must return the call and arrange to speak with him later. Would you mind? I promise it won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“You’ll need to step into the hall and use the conference room across the way if you want privacy,” said Lew.

“Thank you,” said Patience, getting to her feet.

The room seemed half empty after Patience left. No one spoke. Lew gathered up the papers Ray had dropped on her desk and set them to one side. Osborne cleared his throat. Ray checked his watch, then his cell phone.

“May I share something before my wife returns?” asked Charles, getting to his feet and walking across the room to close the door she had left open. He walked back to Lew’s desk before saying in a low voice, “You should know that my wife is under tremendous stress right now. There are budget problems at the college, which are the result of a series of computer malfunctions that are costing a fortune. Patience feels wholly responsible even though it is certainly not her fault.

“The call from the lawyer? She’s trying to convince the executor of her father’s estate to release more funds to the college endowment in order to cover the costs of new equipment.

“While that situation is getting worse by the day, she is a nervous wreck when she is home, too.” He hesitated then said, “I don’t know if she is hallucinating or what but late last month she accused me of stealing from her. She was convinced that I had somehow accessed one of her bank accounts. There
was
an error, but it was a computer glitch at the bank.” Charles paused, crossed his arms and stared down at his feet, thinking. He looked up. “To be perfectly frank, I’m not sure how much more
I
can take.”

“Is she on meds of any kind?” asked Osborne.

“Patience takes quite a selection of vitamins every day but nothing more potent than that. At least as far as I know.”

“Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been married?” asked Lew.

“I don’t mind in the least,” said Charles. “We met last year and were married … it’ll be six months this next weekend,” he gave a slight smile and raised his left hand as he spoke, displaying a wide gold wedding band. “She’s been fine until all this pressure hit. It has really changed our lives. Used to be she would come home at night relaxed and happy. Now she’s so rattled, it takes a glass or two of wine to calm her down.”

The door to office opened and Patience walked over to her chair, “Sorry about that, everyone.” She sat down saying, “You have my full attention, Chief Ferris. Charles, what did I miss?”

“I gave them a few more details concerning your office at the college,” said Charles. “I also promised that we will keep the house secure and call 911 if we see or hear anything suspicious.”

Osborne caught Lew’s eye. Surprising how easily the guy lied to his wife. Sure he wanted to keep the level of upset down but still …

“Regarding your office at the college, Dr. Schumacher,” said Lew. “If you think someone is entering without permission—why not have a security camera installed? The cost will be well worth the peace of mind if you discover you have nothing to worry about.”

Patience swung her head towards her husband as she said, “What did you say, Charles? Did you tell them this is all in my head? You did, didn’t you!” She stood, both hands covering her face and half-sobbed in a muffled voice, “I give up. No one believes me.” Her shoulders shook as she cried silent tears.

“Of course I do, Patty,” said Charles as he got to his feet and reached to put a supportive arm around his wife. “All I said was that you are under a lot of stress at work and this isn’t helping. That’s all. Chief Ferris needs to know that.” He stroked her back as he spoke.

Patience wavered, then reached for her purse and a Kleenex, which she used to dab at her face. She blew her nose. “You’re right, Charles, I am so sorry. You are so good to me.”

“Chief Ferris,” said Charles, continuing to stroke his wife’s arm. “Do you need anything more from us right now?”

“This is a start,” said Lew. “Enough for today.”

Patience sniffled and got to her feet. “Thank you for your time,” said Charles, holding his wife’s fur for her to slip into.

“Dr. Schumacher, Mr. Mason,” said Lew as she walked them to the door, “Here are two of my cards with my cell phone number. One for each of you. The cell phone is on 24/7. I trust you won’t use it unless you have a sighting of the person—or people—behind your concern. Call 911 first, then my cell. I would like that alert ASAP. Does that help?”

“You think there could be more than one person behind this?” said Patience, tucking her wet Kleenex into her coat pocket.

“I have no idea,” said Lew, “but I have learned to trust intuition. So we will work with you until we figure this out.”

Patience was so relieved her eyes shimmered with tears. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Yes,” said Charles, pausing to shake the hands of Lew, Osborne and Ray as his wife hurried on down the hall. “Thank you for listening.”

“Mr. Mason,” said Osborne, “before you leave, may I have a look at that wedding ring of yours? I’ve worked in gold and silver extensively in my dental practice and that is quite the ring.”

“Thank you,” said Charles, holding his left hand out for everyone to see, “I designed both our rings. No stones, just wide bands beaten with a special mallet that I like to use. It’s 18kt gold. The best you can get these days.”

“Very handsome,” said Osborne. “I haven’t seen anything like it.”

“Take a look at Patience’s ring next time. It’s wider and you can see the pattern better. I am quite proud of it.”

“So, Lewellyn, what do you think?” asked Osborne when she had closed the door.

“I think we listen and wait. It would appear that Dr. Schumacher is neurotic if not clinically paranoid—and that may be. If that is what it is, then all we have is an emotionally troubled person who needs professional help. But if that is not the case and she
is
being stalked and we do not listen, then we have a victim.

“We could have a homicide—or, if someone is out to drive her crazy—a suicide. Patience strikes me as pretty darn fragile.”

“In other words, why risk the worst?” asked Osborne.

“Exactly. Though I sure as hell wish her timing was better,” said Lew. “Hey,” she said, turning her attention to the man still seated at the conference table, “Ray, what’s your impression?”

“Huh?” Startled, Ray looked up from his cell phone, which he was checking for the umpteenth time. “She’s very tall.”

“Thank you. That’s a
big
help,” said Lew. Her eyes narrowed as she said, “I would like to know more about those two. They seem rather an odd couple to me.”

“I’ll ask around,” said Osborne. “I know I heard something not too long ago.”

“Thanks, Doc. Meantime, you two, I have Roger and Todd interviewing the property owners with land within a three-mile radius of the Merriman Trails. I figure Kathy Beltner could not have gone much farther than that even if she decided to snowshoe off trail.

“Ray, you will get out there
now
while the sun is out, won’t you? Those trails have been closed to accommodate us and I’ve already had two calls from the DNR. They have some upset skiers …”

“Yep, I’m on my way. Got a trail map in the truck and I’ll cover as much territory as I can before the sun goes down. Doc, you coming?”

“On the condition you tell me why you keep checking that damn cell phone.”

“The producers of ICE MEN said they’ll call everyone who makes the first cut today. I’m hoping to hear.”

An hour later, Lew’s cell phone pinged with a text message: “Got a minute? Charles.” She hit the “call” button and Charles Mason answered.

“Is this an emergency?” asked Lew.

“Hi,” said Charles in a tone Lew found seductive and alarming, “I thought we might talk some more about, oh, Patience and—”

“If it’s not an emergency, Mr. Mason,” said Lew, enunciating each word, “I don’t have time.” And clicked her phone off.

Lew pondered the call and her visceral response to the man. Once before in her life she had found herself attracted to a man like Charles—physically appealing and with a certain intensity in his eyes and manner. She almost married the guy, but a minor disagreement blew up between them, exposing the fact he was borderline schizophrenic. It was a hard lesson learned but she remembered it now.

Could she be dealing with two disturbed units in one household? Time for background checks on Patience and Charles, especially Charles.

C
HAPTER
12

O
sborne bent to strap on his snowshoes. He had had them for years and never failed to admire the workmanship in the handmade wooden frames with their varnished rawhide webbing. Some people—like Erin, who had outfitted all his grandchildren in aluminum snowshoes—pooh-poohed vintage models. They preferred modern versions: machine-generated with aluminum, plastic and vinyl fittings.

But Osborne held fast to his antiques and enjoyed badgering his daughter with, “Erin, snowshoes like mine are true to the culture of the Ojibway nation whose blood runs in your father’s Metis veins. If you valued the traditions of our ancestors, you would wear snowshoes like mine.”

“Yeah, right, Dad.” And on she would walk in lighter, shorter, narrower snowshoes: her loss.

Hunched over as he sat on the tailgate of his truck, parked next to Osborne at the trailhead, Ray had his gloves off as his fingers worked fast to strap snowshoes on over his Sorel boots. He had arrived late and Osborne suspected he had stopped by his trailer to check email in hopes he had received news on-line from the ICE MEN producers. From the expression on his face he hadn’t heard anything and Osborne knew better than to ask.