Thirty-one

Monday found me three pounds heavier and no wiser. I also realized that Hallie deserved to know what was going on. I was not unclear on that point. I just didn’t possess the cojones to tell her all the bad news. I rationalized my cowardice by convincing myself that I only knew part of the story. She would naturally have questions, and she deserved answers. I needed the whole mess straight before I told her that her dear departed father had been murdered for a horrible crime he’d been a part of decades earlier, and that the murderer may not be through yet.

So I’d find her some answers. At least that was the plan. My first attempt was foiled when I visited the Fergus Falls nursing home to discover that Julius had been transported to the hospital to treat a recent case of pneumonia. He was currently in an oxygen chamber and not allowed visitors. I stopped by the hospital anyways to send up some flowers and a box of donuts. I was certain he wouldn’t be able to eat them, but I hoped they’d give him a smile.

My next stop was the office of Jason Paul. I recognized him as the young African American who had attended the Love-Your-Library event. It turned out he was new to town and had never been to Battle Lake before or since the library celebration. I thanked him for his time and drove to Margery Flax’s office. I had not forgotten the initials written on Lyle’s calendar—FCM and a dollar sign. Clive had received a windfall from a Fergus Falls attorney. Lyle was possibly expecting money from someone with the initials “FCM.” Two of the Fergus Falls attorneys on my list had the initials “F” and “M” in their names. I didn’t need to be Nancy Drew to know that either my meeting with Margery or my meeting with Frederick was going to be very illuminating, and my money was on Frederick.

Margery turned out to be a busy woman who was in a constant state of motion, alternating between texting, searching on her computer, and writing on a notepad the whole time we were talking. She quickly established that I wasn’t here as a potential client and got me straight to my point in an uncharacteristically—for Minnesota—straightforward manner.

“You were at the Love-Your-Library event, right?” She’d been on the guest list, but I didn’t recognize her face.

She nodded while scribbling something on her desk pad and keeping one eye on her computer screen. “Briefly.”

“Were you there at the end when a large donation was made to the library?”

“I came around 7:40 and left at 8:00. I had a dinner engagement with friends. Is that all?”

“You didn’t write Clive Majors a check for $5,000?”

She snorted. “Not unless he’s the guy who holds the mortgage on my house.”

I felt embarrassed. I was obviously barking up the wrong tree. “Your middle name doesn’t happen to start with a “C,” does it?”

“My middle name is Jean. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She glanced suggestively at the door.

I didn’t see anybody waiting to break it down but I had no doubt her time was worth more than mine. I thanked her for it and drove to the office of Frederick Milton. According to the name on the sign, he was the senior partner in a law office of four. The thick carpeting and dark wood of the lobby suggested that they were doing just fine.

“I’m here to see Mr. Milton.”

The pleasant-faced secretary smiled from behind the counter. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but he’s expecting me.”

Her nose wrinkled with puzzlement, but her smile stayed intact. “I’m afraid he’s in court today.”

“I’ll wait.” Before leaving Battle Lake, I’d called Hallie’s attorney from the Litchfield Law Firm. I’d ostensibly called to turn in my billing for the week, but I’d also asked him about the three attorneys on my list. He’d heard of Margery and Frederick, but not Paul. He’d informed me that Margery specialized in family law and that Frederick was a business lawyer who rarely took a case these days. His focus was on running for county commissioner.

“Can I ask who’s waiting?”

“Mira James. I’m a reporter with the Battle Lake Recall.”

She nodded as if that made sense and typed on her computer. She looked up a few minutes later. “He’ll be back within the hour. I might be able to squeeze you in, but he’d only have a minute or two.”

“That’s all I’ll need.” I spent the next two hours reading the Fergus Falls Daily Journal, then American Lawyer, and then New American. I was ready to slice my eyes out by the time I was finally ushered into a back office. I was unsurprised to find that I immediately recognized Frederick Milton as the lip-muff-sporting gentleman who had been chatting with Mitchell and retired Sheriff Mike at the library event, the one who couldn’t take his eyes off of Clive. Pieces were falling into place.

“Ms. James. So nice to see you again. Were you waiting long?” He had stood to greet me, but the handshake he offered was little more than a mildly obscene brushing of his warm, flaccid palm.

“No,” I lied. “I’m here to ask you some questions.” We both sat. His suit wasn’t cheap, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it hid scabs and scars underneath. It was a combination of his arrogant manner and greasy eyes.

“I assume for an article on my bid for county commissioner?”

“Okay. When did you throw your hat in the ring?”

He sat forward, stroking his mouth pelt like an old-school villain. “This past summer. You sure you don’t want something to write with?”

“Memory like a steel trap.” I tapped my noggin. “Do you know Clive Majors?”

Frederick’s eyes narrowed. “I went to high school with a person with that name.”

“Did you recently give him a chunk of cash?”

To my surprise, Frederick laughed. It was a rich, friendly sound.
It almost made me want to smile, and I had a glimpse into the personal charisma that might get him elected to public office. “I’ve been donating money to a lot of charities lately. It’s hard to keep track of them all. If you’re looking for a scandal, though, I’m afraid you won’t find one here. I did know Clive. Not well, but Battle Lake isn’t so big that anyone’s a stranger. He sold me a piece of land back in October. The deed just went through. The land is undeveloped, right on Bass Lake outside of town. I hope to build a summer cabin there, time willing.”

I was sniffing around his corners, looking for the lie in his words, but they made sense on the surface. “What’s your middle name?”

“My, you get around a conversation. It’s Craig. What’s yours?”

“Rayn.” I stood and turned toward the door. “I’ll show myself out.” I was mad that I’d revealed my real middle name and even angrier that he’d had a smug answer, but I’d gotten my information. He was tied to this, no doubt, and a quick search of my bionic database would reveal the truth about his supposed land purchase. In the meantime, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just disturbed a rattlesnake.