The Devil's Puzzle (17 page)

“Great-granddaughter,” she finished my sentence. “I’m here about my great-uncle Winston.”

“Is she providing DNA?” I asked Jesse.

“No. Winston’s sister, Elizabeth, gave a swab to a facility in California. We’re waiting on the results.”

“But it has to be Winston,” Molly said, with a touch too much enthusiasm in her voice. “We assumed he was dead,” she told me. “He just disappeared and my grandmother said that if he were alive, he would have gotten in touch at some point. He and Elizabeth were very close, but even if they weren’t, there was an inheritance he would have claimed.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I grabbed Jesse and pulled him several feet away. “Why would this make me laugh?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.” He moved me back toward Molly. “It’s okay to tell Nell what you told me.”

“I’m studying criminology in Boston, so when I saw the mayor’s blog about the skeleton, I figured I should come down and see if I could help with the investigation.”

“You thought you would what?” I asked.

“You know, help, in whatever way I can. As long as I don’t get in the way.”

“Archers Rest has a very capable police force,” I told her. “Jesse was a detective in New York.”

She looked embarrassed. “I’m sure everyone’s great. It’s just that I have a great mind for puzzles and I’m good at reading people. I’m only a freshman, but I’ve taken two criminology classes and got an A in both of them.”

“So you thought you would just come up and see if you could solve Winston’s murder?”

She nodded.

“So why didn’t you just say all of this the other day, instead of pretending to be an intern helping with the anniversary celebration?”

“I’m not pretending. I took the internship.” She sat up straight, trying to look more imposing. “I didn’t know anything about this town, so I wanted to find out what I could and see if any of the suspects were still around. If I said who I was, people might not be willing to talk to me.”

“So why say anything now?”

“You said you were going to talk to the mayor about the file. I knew he’d tell you he hadn’t asked for it, and you’d probably bring it to the chief.”

“What was in that file, aside from a copy of my grandmother’s deed?”

“Just old papers about the history of the house. I thought I might find something that explained how your grandmother got the house, but there really wasn’t anything that helped.”

“You took them from the historical society,” I said.

She blushed. “Glad caught me. But I made up an excuse about being lost, and I think she bought it.”

I turned to Jesse. “And this was supposed to make me laugh?”

“It made
me
laugh.”

CHAPTER 26

J
esse and I had settled back in his office. He was behind his desk, I was leaning against the window, and Molly was in a chair facing us. The police department in Archers Rest didn’t have an interrogation room. Usually there was no need for one. But today I felt like it would have been nice to have a long metal table and a two-way mirror, just like they do in the movies. Obviously Molly wasn’t a suspect in her great-uncle’s murder—she’d been born almost twenty years after his death—it was just that she was . . . I don’t know. I just didn’t like her, and that was reason enough for me to want to sit in while she and Jesse talked.

“What do you know about Winston Roemer?” I asked.

Molly smiled at me but directed her answer to Jesse. “From what I understand he was very smart, well respected. He was close to his sister and mother.”

“Didn’t anyone in your family wonder where he’d been all these years?” Jesse asked.

“No. He spent years in South America in the 1950s and 60s, going to some places that were unstable. It was understood in our family that he must have been killed on one of those trips.”

“Did he have any financial issues?”

“No. He was quite well-off, actually. He had an inheritance from his father, as well as money he’d made on his own. And of course, he was set to inherit an even larger estate from his own mother when she passed away.”

“What about romantic issues?”

She shrugged. “As far as I know, he didn’t have a wife, or kids, or anything like that. I can’t say whether he might have been involved with someone.”

“Your grandmother never mentioned a woman to you? Or a man, for that matter?”

“No.” She smiled. “But she was his sister. Do you talk about your love life with your sister?”

Jesse smiled back. “I don’t have a sister, but I take your point. I couldn’t find any legal problems, and if he had no financial or romantic ones, then it’s unlikely he just took off to start a new life.”

“Very. As I said, he was close to his sister and his mother.”

“When’s the last time anyone had contact with him?”

“My grandmother says that they spoke last in the summer of 1975, shortly before Grace died. Winston had visited Grace and was concerned,” Molly said.

“Concerned in what way?”

“I’m not sure. But he was quite worked up about something. That’s the impression I got. He felt she was being taken advantage of.”

I stood up. “Who did he think was taking advantage of her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he told Elizabeth. She was his younger sister and she was three thousand miles away in California. I think he wanted to protect her. Until he was sure.”

“Sure about what?” I asked.

“If it was true. Grace was a trusting person, and apparently Winston believed that someone was abusing that trust,” Molly said. “I don’t know all the details. It wasn’t really talked about much because it was so long ago, and Grace was dead, and we assumed that Winston had died on one of his trips. But I always thought that it was possible that Winston knew something, and that’s why he disappeared.” She sat back. “And, well, it looks like that’s turned out to be the case.”

“So you’re suggesting someone killed Winston to stop him from exposing a mistreatment of Grace?” I said my words carefully, as calmly as I could. “Is that why you stole a copy of my grandmother’s deed?”

“I just wanted to see when she took over the place.” Molly was getting defensive. “It was my family’s property.”

“Until they sold it,” I pointed out.

Jesse looked back at me and quietly shook his head. “Let me ask, Nell.”

I leaned back against the window and crossed my arms. I finally knew why I didn’t like her. She was here to accuse Eleanor of manipulating Grace and possibly killing Winston, a charge that was not only untrue, it was outrageous.

Even from my vantage point I could see Jesse smile at Molly, but it was a cop smile, not a friendly one. “Assuming this is your great-uncle, did anyone in your family have medical records or dental records on him? It might help us make a preliminary ID as we wait for the DNA results.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Not after all these years. But I do know he broke his leg when he was in his twenties. He was on a ship somewhere, going on one of his trips. Apparently he limped slightly.”

“That fits with the description we have of our skeleton,” Jesse told her. “According to our forensic pathologist, there was a broken leg that had not been properly set, which might fit with his being somewhere with poor medical care.”

“There you go,” she said. “It is him.”

“Maybe,” Jesse cautioned. “Do you have any letters or diaries, anything that might give me some indication of his whereabouts the summer he disappeared?”

“I asked my grandmother to send me copies of anything she has from Winston in those years. She kept everything in a box in her study. It was all she had left of him.” Molly glanced toward me, then back at Jesse. “I know this was a long time ago, and maybe it’s easy to forget that there are victims here, but my grandmother lost her mother and her brother in the same summer. All these years later, it’s still painful for her. If we can find out what happened to Winston, I know it will mean a great deal to her.”

“We’ll do our best,” Jesse told her.

“You don’t believe that,” I said to Jesse as he walked me outside the police station. Ushered me, really—practically escorted me from the building.

“It’s as good a theory as any.” He put his hand up to my mouth.

“And before you yell at me that I’m accusing Eleanor of murder, I want you to understand that I’m not. I am open to the theory that someone was taking advantage of Grace, but that could have been a lot of people, okay?”

I nodded. He lifted his hand from my mouth.

“What was all that ‘if we can find out what happened’ stuff?” I asked. “Who does she mean?”

“She’s just offering to help. He was family, after all.”

“She’s a kid. She’s what, eighteen years old with two whole criminology courses. Don’t you find it a little insulting that she’s offering to help you?”

He laughed.

“What is so funny?”

“You don’t notice a resemblance between her and another person with no law-enforcement experience butting into a police investigation—all enthusiasm and theories but no evidence?”

“No.” As I said it, I could feel my neck burning a little and I’m sure my face was turning bright red. But I ignored my embarrassment. “No, I don’t,” I said again.

Jesse’s jaw tensed. “Look, Nell, she’s not going to hurt the investigation, and who knows, she may help. I’ve had some luck with amateur assistance.”

“Did you check her DNA against the blood we found on the skeleton ?” I asked.

“She didn’t come to town until after the mayor posted the blog. The body was at the morgue by then.”

“She
says
she didn’t come to town until after the blog.”

“I’ll check her story, and if you want to help . . .”

“I will help, because I’m going to protect Eleanor,” I said. “And if Molly’s going where I think she’s going with this ridiculous theory of hers, then I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make sure the truth comes out.”

“Good. I’ll keep talking to Miss O’Brien, and I promise I’ll share with you anything interesting she has to say, okay?”

I nodded. I took a deep breath and forced myself to change the subject. “There’s something else. Will you look to see if Ed Bryant was ever arrested or involved in any crime? It might be years ago.”

“Ed from the movie theater? He taught me science in sophomore year. What do you think he did?”

“Nothing, really. He was just acting weird at the theater today. And Glad said something a few days ago about my grandmother not wanting to be in the same room with him. It’s just a hunch, but I want to know for sure there’s no reason to suspect him of anything.”

“You got it. But I have to tell you he was the world’s dullest teacher, so I doubt he had some secret life.”

“You might be surprised. I’m beginning to think this town is full of secrets.”

“Okay.” He kissed me. “I’m making spaghetti. Be at my place at eight.” He grabbed my arm at the elbow and hesitated. “Nell, until we get the results of the DNA, we don’t even know for sure if that skeleton was once Winston Roemer. But I think we can assume it’s him. Which means it might be a good idea to find out where Eleanor was in July of 1975.”

“And you trust me to tell you what Eleanor says?”

“The only reason you wouldn’t is if Eleanor had done something wrong.”

“Then I’ll tell you everything.”

CHAPTER 27

B
y the time I got back to the shop, Eleanor’s office door was open.

But one peek inside made it clear that it was also empty. Natalie was busy with a customer and Jeremy was asleep in his crib. No one could tell me what had happened or where Oliver and Eleanor had gone.

I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting on customers and trying to ignore a growing feeling that I might sound as ridiculous as Molly had sounded to me. Coming to Archers Rest to play detective! Didn’t she realize she wasn’t needed here? And for Jesse to draw a comparison between us. And be amused by it. I hated to think that deep down he might see me as a silly pest with stupid theories who just got in the way, like Molly O’Brien.

But she had said something that I couldn’t pass off as silly—that Winston believed someone had been taking advantage of Grace. I just couldn’t imagine who would do it or why anyone would want to harm such a wonderful woman.

Natalie and I closed up the shop at five and, instead of walking directly home, I stopped in at several businesses along the way to ask about displaying quilts in front of their shops on the anniversary weekend. It wasn’t a hard sell. The quilts wouldn’t block the store windows and probably would even draw interest to them.

After getting a yes from the pharmacy, the ice cream parlor, Jitters, and the post office, I made the last stop on my list—the one I’d been dreading. I went to the movie theater to see if Ed would let me merge the world of quilting with the world of fine cinema. It was only an hour until a movie was supposed to start, so the door to the theater was open, but no one seemed to be manning the ticket counter or the concession stand.