Sins and Needles (21 page)

“If he needs money to start a business, you would have thought he'd at least not pick something that was going to cost him money,” said Betsy.

“That's our golden-haired boy all over,” sighed Susan. “His boating business may be a really good idea—and if he did have the money, he could do worse than have that boat as part of the business. It used to be kind of famous out here on the lake.”

“Why? Is it steam powered, like the
Minnehaha
?”

“No, it's not that old. It's a runabout from the twenties, made of wood, with an inboard motor. And it's big—more than thirty feet long. I'm sure there are people who'd get a thrill out of riding in it, some of them people who would remember seeing it on the lake when they were kids. But he couldn't charge them enough to make up for what it's going to cost to repair.”

“Maybe it's not going to cost as much as you think.”

“Oh, it's a real mess. Would you like to see it?”

“Sure.”

“Come on. It's out back.”

They went downstairs and out the back door from the kitchen. “Looks like that building used to be a stable,” said Betsy.

“It was. Aunt Edyth and my mother had ponies when they were young.”

The padlock wasn't closed. Susan pulled it out of the hasp and opened the big doors to let the light in. The stuff that had formerly blocked the doors was piled up on either side, leaving a clear view of the boat.

“Golly!” said Betsy. “It
is
big!” She went closer. “Is it a Chris-Craft?”

“No, it was built by someone, or a company, named Gar Wood. The engine is a World War I aircraft engine.”

“Are you serious? An aircraft engine? Where would you find a mechanic who could work on it?”

“Exactly,” said Susan with a dry tone. “Where indeed?”

Betsy smiled. “I bet it used to just tear up the water.”

“It sure did,” said Susan, a smile flickering across her face. “Nothing on the lake could keep up with it.”

“You've ridden in it?”

“Yes, I have, lots of times. Aunt Edyth was still driving it on the lake in the early sixties. But look at it now—the finish is destroyed, the seat covers are shot, and after all these years of sitting, no doubt it leaks like a sieve.” She walked up to it, reached as if to touch it, then turned with an angry gesture. “Let's get out of here.”

Susan stalked to her car, said a brief good-bye, and left. Betsy stood awhile, thinking, then looked at her watch and made a little exclamation. She hurried to her own car, drove out through the pillars and turned left, heading up Highway 15.

Weaving between the bays of Lake Minnetonka, she followed Highway 15 until, near Wayzata, it connected with Highway 12. At this point Twelve still thought it was I-394, but a couple of miles west it went around a sharp bend and became a two-lane highway, and soon after that ran along the south side of Long Lake, where Billy's Lighthouse Restaurant was. Billy's was well-known—it appeared to be just a shaggy roadside place, as much bar as restaurant.

Betsy had barely found a parking place when she saw Stewart crossing the lot, heading for the front door. He had made a reservation for an indoor seat—there was a large deck out back, facing the lake and its surround of trees, but the weather was too hot and sticky to dine
al fresco.
The indoor dining area was faced with tall windows that gave the same view, unleavened by mosquitos and humidity.

They both ordered the walleye, the most popular fish in Minnesota—lutefisk might be more famous, but it certainly wasn't the best tasting. Billy's walleye was fresh and came with a white wine and grape sauce that was fabulous.

Betsy found Stewart a charming luncheon companion. He told stories about Lake Minnetonka she had never heard before and described catching fish in a way that made her decide she really needed to try for a “lunker” herself some day soon.

“You know,” he said, “you have the quiet, sensible attitude of a good angler, and I really look forward to showing you some of the places that have rarely failed me.”

“Thank you,” said Betsy.

“In fact, I wish you were more of an angler, because I'm working on a business deal that could earn you a lot of money, if you wanted in—but you have to understand the lure of the lake—” He stopped short and began to laugh. “My best pun in a long while!” he said. “Maybe I should name my company Lure of the Lake!”

“What company?” asked Betsy.

“It's an idea I've been working on, ironing out the kinks and all. You know, if you really understood the powerful attraction that fishing holds for Minnesota residents and tourists, you'd know how valuable a business catering to that might be.”

“If you're about to begin a pitch for an investment, I'm going to ask you to contact my investment advisor, Marty Kaplan. I do nothing without his recommendation.”

“May I call you about contacting him as my plans mature?”

“Certainly. But can't you persuade your daughters to invest in this plan?”

“They haven't got the kind of money it would take.” He looked surprised that she would suggest such a thing.

“They may now. Didn't they each pick items of considerable value from Edyth Hanraty's house?”

His eyes went frosty. “Who told you that?”

“Susan. More, she said you at least suggested to each of them what to pick with an eye toward getting them to invest in your new company.”

“Well, damn her!” He scowled and took a breath to continue. “All right, since you got the distorted picture from her, let me tell you what I really did. I did everything in my power to convince Aunt Edyth to leave a share to each of them—and then when she wouldn't budge, I asked her to leave each of them something from the house, as a memoriam. She didn't seem to think that was such an awful idea, and so I went on the Internet to do some research. I picked the most valuable items I could find the value of and told Lexie, Bernie, and CeeCee about them. I said that I would try to get permission for each of them to pick something, and if I succeeded they weren't to get all sentimental but to pick from the list I gave them. That way, they'd have something more like a share in what should have been their inheritance. So Susan is right, I coached the girls—all but Katie. She knew she wanted the silverware and wouldn't think of picking anything else. But then I found out what it was worth, and thought,
attagirl!
Now even Susan will agree the will was unfair, so why she's all mad about this now, I don't know. She and Jan were okay with them picking something. I just wish this could've been done by the old woman herself. I'm so angry she was murdered! What a stupid waste! I hope that police investigator finds out who did this.”

“So you didn't tell Katie to pick the silver,” said Betsy.

“No, she's wanted that silver ever since she first saw it—when she was about ten years old. I told her to register the pattern for a wedding present, but she couldn't find anything like it. Then I told her to ask about buying it at the estate sale. And then I brought up my idea that each of the girls should get to pick something, and when they didn't jump all over me, I decided to expand the request so that everyone got a chance to grab something. I wouldn't have done it, except it's not like Jan or Susan are hurting for money.”

“Susan seems rather down on you, but Jan doesn't.”

He nodded. “Jan's a good sport. If she were mine, I'd say she was a chip off the old block—but for her to be mine I would've had to've gotten married before I started shaving.” He grinned.

“Did she know your Aunt Edyth well?”

He considered that. “Pretty well. When Jan started nursing school, the old woman asked to see her—there was a bit of a rift between Susan and Aunt Edyth over Susan's marrying so young, and visits really slacked off. But Aunt Edyth liked Jan. Not Jason, of course. I don't think he's been out there more than four times his whole life. But Jan's kind of a regular.”

“Did they ever quarrel that you know of?”

Stewart shook his head. “Not that I ever heard of. And I think Jan would've told me. She and I are buds from way back. I used to take her fishing when she was just a tyke, back before I started having my own set of girls.”

“So Jan was quick to approve your proposal to let your daughters pick an item from the house?”

Stewart nodded. He was using a wad of bread to soak up the last of the delicious sauce on his plate.

“And this proposal wasn't a scheme to get your hands on items of value to fund your fishing business?”

“No, it wasn't.” He dropped the bread on the plate and looked at Betsy. “Do you have children?”

“No.”

“Too bad, because then you'd understand how I love my girls and want to give them everything they need to get a good start in life. I've never been a good provider. I just can't get the hang of it somehow, so I couldn't give them the finer things myself. But I wasn't going to pass up a chance for them to acquire something of real value. They may have to sell those things, but the money will be theirs, to pay for college or whatever they need.” He said it very firmly. Betsy nearly smiled to think Stewart was confessing that his latest business scheme wasn't the surest way of building a secure fund for his daughters.

Since she was paying for the lunch, she got to ask if he wanted dessert.

“They do a terrific cherry cobbler,” he said promptly.

So Betsy ordered some, too. After it arrived, she continued. “Susan said she quit going to her Aunt Edyth's house when she got into high school, but I'm wondering if she didn't spend a last summer there later than that. I know she's quite a bit older than you—”

Stewart smiled a little sadly. “Ten years isn't as big a gap nowadays as it was when we were kids.”

“That's very true. Do you recall what year it was when Susan last spent part or all of a summer at the Hanraty house?”

Stewart looked up at the ceiling while he calculated. “I was going into third grade, I think. No, fourth. The summer before I had gone out there a couple of times with Suze and got to ride in the boat, but for some reason that summer she got to stay out there the whole vacation and I wasn't allowed to go at all. Susan was being a typical teenager, full of angst and very touchy. Mama said she'd come home happier, but she didn't. I was upset about not getting another boat ride, I remember—but I did get to go see the place decorated for Christmas.”

“What year was that?”

He thought for a moment. “That must have been the summer of 1959.”

Betsy smiled. “That was the year Alaska was admitted to the Union.”

“Was it?” He looked at her, surprised. “You may be right. But don't you mean Hawaii and Alaska? Didn't they come in together?”

“No, they made Hawaii wait until the next year, 1960.”

“The things you know,” he said admiringly.

“But you're sure 1959 was the year Susan spent the summer with your Aunt Edyth?”

“Yes. She hadn't gone out for a long stay the year before, but she went the whole summer that year. And that was the last time. She never went on even an overnight trip out there after that. Of course, she got married right out of high school, so she must've been dating Dave by then. Aunt Edyth was very disappointed about her interest in boys, so I bet that summer was a long one for Susan, with Aunt Edyth trying to talk Susan out of getting serious over Dave. I can remember our mother saying the letter she wrote to Susan after the wedding burned the fingers of anyone who touched it.” He smiled. “I think that was the first figure of speech I ever really understood.”

“Did she ever express direct hostility to you?”

“Not to
me
, no. As a representative of the male sex, you bet. You started her on the subject, and she'd give you a real stem-winder.”

Betsy was still thinking about Stewart's last comment when she got home from lunch. She was in the middle of straightening up the apartment when the phone rang. It was Jan, very distressed. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I've been calling and calling!”

“I'm sorry, I just got home a little while ago, and I forgot to check my phone messages. What's the problem?”

“That police detective, Sergeant Mitchell Rice, came over to our house last night with a
search warrant
! He went into my needle case and counted my Skacel steels—and the one that was missing is
back
! I told him I didn't replace it, but I'm sure he doesn't believe me! He took all of them away with him, and I'm sure he thinks I'm a murderer! Betsy, I don't understand why there was one missing and now it's back. I didn't replace it! What am I going to do? I'm sure he thinks I murdered Aunt Edyth. What will I do if he comes and arrests me?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm at the clinic, of course! Can he just walk in and put handcuffs on me?”