CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Customers at Pirated Treasures, the antiques shop where Vi worked, had to curb-park along the street. Daisy had driven there with April tonight. This store visit would be very different from her visit with Jonas yesterday to Landon’s Tractor Supply.
As April opened the door to the antiques shop, a buzzer sounded.
Glancing around, April moved toward the first row of shelves. “I hope we can find what we need.”
They were looking for china plates and cups, coasters, trivets, or anything else that might have a covered bridge design.
Otis Murdoch stepped from a side aisle. Seeing her, he said, “Daisy! What a treat. I haven’t seen you since I stopped in for cherry tarts last month.”
Otis was in his seventies. Daisy had met him when he’d been involved in a murder investigation. Otis’s wispy white hair splayed over his ears. There were so many character lines on his face, she couldn’t count them all. His chin, however, still had a determined point even though the skin on his neck sagged. His eyes were baby blue. Wearing a button-down white shirt with the collar open, he sported a tan cardigan sweater against the cool of the air-conditioning. He’d updated much about the shop when he’d taken on a partner. The air-conditioning was a huge improvement.
“What can we help you with today?” Otis asked.
April explained what they were looking for and why.
“Hmmm. I think my assistant can help you with that more thoroughly than I can. Vi, somebody you know is here.”
Coming from the back, Vi smiled when she saw April and Daisy. “Did you just stop in for a visit?”
“No.” April explained again why they were there. Then she said, “I’m printing pamphlets about the history of the covered bridge for the tea and to give out for the parade. Tessa drew the sketch of it for the cover.”
Otis patted Vi’s shoulder. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“How’s he doing?” Daisy asked once Otis had left the room.
“He’s doing well. He’s taking care of his house, and he’s eating right. Keith helps with that.”
Keith Rebert was Otis’s partner.
Vi escorted April and Daisy to the rear of the store, where she pointed out a shelf. “I think there are coasters there and little vases. You could use them in the center of the tables.”
“These are great,” April said with enthusiasm as she ran her fingers over the picture of a covered bridge.
Vi asked Daisy, “Didn’t Tessa do a series of paintings of the covered bridge at different times of the day? I remember the light hit it differently in the morning, at noon, and at night.”
Daisy’s gaze met April’s. “Vi is right. Maybe Tessa would let us display those in the tea garden. What do you think?”
“That would be great. We could put one in the main room and two in the spillover tearoom,” April said.
They sorted through small dishes and vases on the shelf and started picking out a few. Vi took them into her hands. “I’ll put these on the counter. Keep looking. We’re glad to supply anything you need.”
“Who’s babysitting Sammy tonight?” Daisy asked.
Vi’s smile faded. “Brielle is babysitting him. Foster’s working late again. He wants to show his boss his ambition and ingenuity, but he’s hardly spent any time with Sammy or me in the past two weeks. I don’t know what to do. And before you say talk to him, I already have. That doesn’t seem to do any good. He has this attitude that he’ll lose everything if he doesn’t keep going every minute. It’s unnerving for me and Sammy. Sammy watches him walk by, and Foster just gives him a pat on the head. Then he’s out the door.”
Wanting to restore Vi’s equilibrium, Daisy commented, “Emily seems to be doing a good job with Sammy.”
“She does. She plays with him the whole time she’s there. What’s not to like? He loves to see her come through the door. She said you stopped by to talk to her about her dad. What was that about?”
“Gavin wanted me to feel her out about something, and I did. I believe I got her thinking.”
“You always do that,” Vi said with a quirk of her brow. “Maybe you’re the one who should talk to Foster.”
“I tried that. He wasn’t any more open to me than he is to you.”
“That says a lot in itself,” Vi complained. “Jazzi told me Jonas suggested an intervention. Maybe that’s what we need to do.”
Since Daisy couldn’t divert Vi’s attention from what was worrying her most, she said, “Just let us know. We’ll do anything you think is best.”
April sidled up to Vi and pretended to whisper in her ear. “You can be grateful that she’s your mom.”
“Believe me, I am,” Vi said. “I know you’ve lived on your own for a while. I admire that. Foster and I have accepted a lot of help, and I think that’s what is driving him now.”
That insight gave Daisy pause. Had they done too much for Vi and Foster? She wasn’t sure, but she did know she’d always be there for Vi if she needed her.
* * *
Perry Russo’s Insurance Agency was possibly the largest and busiest in Willow Creek. On her lunch break the next day, Daisy drew up to the office located between an accountant’s practice and an exterminator’s office. She had no intention of changing her auto insurance from the company she was presently with. Her agent worked by himself out of his house. Jonas had his policy with the same company. Nevertheless, Perry Russo didn’t have to know anything about her intentions.
It was hard to tell how many cars were parked for the insurance company’s attention because it was a public lot for all three businesses. She parked in the second line of spots, picked up her purse, and went inside.
The office was a modern space, all gray, chrome, and black, with a counter and then three cubicles over to the side. Perry Russo must have had two or three agents working under him. She knew what he looked like from his yearbook photo but also from a website photo, where he’d been front and center.
There was a young clerk behind the desk who greeted her as soon as she approached. After a glance over her shoulder, Daisy saw that two agents were in two different cubicles, giving their attention to customers.
“Hi, there,” she said amiably. “I’d like to talk to Perry Russo if that’s possible. I hope I don’t need an appointment.” From past experience, she knew face-to-face, impromptu meetings often produced the most information.
“You’re in luck,” the pixie-faced young woman said. “I just saw him go into his office. Let me see if he’s free.” Apparently, Perry had his own office away from the cubicles of the other agents.
Perry Russo was another thirty-something male with a beard. It must be the style for that age this year. He was smiling when he came from his office, and Daisy got a better look at him. He had a black anchor beard, which was pointed and traced his jawline. His black hair was curly but cropped short. His large glasses were navy with lighter-blue side pieces. Since he was wearing a pale-blue short-sleeved dress shirt with a navy striped tie and navy slacks, she guessed he was a man who took pride in his appearance.
He came to meet her in the walkway between the cubicles and the counter and extended his hand. “Hello. Shannon says you asked for me.”
“My name is Daisy Swanson,” she said. “I’d like to speak with you about car insurance. I’m looking for the best deal.”
His grin was broad. “Let’s see if I can give you the best deal. Come on into my office.”
Daisy was in her work clothes—yellow Capris and a yellow-and-white polka-dotted shirt. He gave her a once-over, from her blond hair, which she’d arranged in a messy bun today, down to her white sandals.
He motioned her into his office, and she preceded him inside.
“How did you find me?” Perry asked with his most professional grin.
“Your name came up when I was speaking with friends.”
“Word of mouth is the best way to engage clients,” he commented. Then he took out a pen and moved a legal-sized tablet in front of him. “Now, tell me the make and model and year of your car.”
“I have a Dodge Journey, 2018.”
“That’s a fine car,” he said.
Daisy imagined he said that to everybody.
“Let me do some calculations. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure,” Daisy responded.
In the next few minutes, Perry asked her the usual questions for a policy—whether she wanted comprehensive coverage and what deductible she was comfortable with. His fingers quickly moved over a desktop calculator. “I can plug these into the computer for a policy, but just to give you an idea of what we’re talking about, I can do it faster this way.” He came up with a number and told her what it was.
She frowned. “That’s pretty much what I’m paying now.”
“Ah, but do you get the service I could give you? My agents are on call twenty-four hours a day. If you have an accident or a claim, you don’t have to dial an eight-hundred number or wait for a call back.”
“Let me think about that,” she told him. “But in the meantime, I wonder if I could talk to you about something else.”
Behind Perry, a set of bookshelves displayed family photos, trophies, and other memorabilia. One photo was a picture of Perry and a woman around his age, along with a boy maybe ten years old.
She wasn’t exactly sure how to begin with Perry, but again she thought honesty was the best way to go. “I understand you were friends with Henry Kohler and Axel Strow.”
Perry’s brown eyes behind the lenses of his glasses showed surprise, but his expression was stoic. “I was.”
She’d been hoping he’d say more, but he didn’t. So, she had to say, “I’ve become involved in looking into Axel’s disappearance and Henry’s death. Do you know Henry’s wife, Beth Ann?”
As if he was resigned to the discussion since she’d brought Beth Ann into it, he nodded. “Yes, I know Beth Ann. Not well, but some of us have gotten together for barbecues and that type of thing.”
“You and your group of friends from high school?”
“Sure. Sometimes we’ve had what you might call mini-reunions.”
“Can you tell me who would come to these?” she asked.
He gave a shrug. “Brooks Landon, Mick Ehrhart, Dylan Meyer.”
“So, you were all friends in high school?”
He grimaced. “As much as guys can be friends. Yeah, we tried to have each other’s backs and cover for each other. Mick got into more trouble than the rest of us.”
That was new information. “What kind of trouble?”
“In his late teens, he was arrested for shoplifting. I think the charges were dropped.”
Teenage antics? A dare? “Did the rest of you get into any trouble?”
“Miss Swanson . . .”
“It’s Mrs.,” she said.
“Mrs. Swanson, I don’t understand why you’re involved in this.”
“It’s a long story, but I help the police from time to time and pick up information that they can’t.”
“Do you think they’re going to interview me?” He didn’t sound as if he liked that idea at all.
“It’s possible. They’ve just started connecting Henry Kohler’s death to Axel Strow’s disappearance.”
In spite of his beard covering a good part of his face, Daisy could see his frown deepen. “I don’t understand how they could be doing that. Axel disappeared twenty years ago.”
“New information has come to light. Can you tell me anything else about your friendship with Axel?”
“We were just guys . . . going to the same school . . . liking the same chicks. That’s it.” All of a sudden, Perry leaned forward in his chair and rubbed the middle of his back. “A back spasm,” he said with a pained expression. “Sorry. It happens.” He stood as if to soothe his muscles. “Is that all?”
She could see Perry was going to push her out. Could it have been a physical fight with Henry that caused that ache in his back? Or could the ache have come from dumping Henry’s body into the creek?
“I own Daisy’s Tea Garden with my aunt. I often strain my back from lifting trays.” She didn’t, but a little white lie wouldn’t hurt.
“It’s an old track injury. Then a few weeks ago, I made the mistake of skateboarding with my son. That didn’t go so well. In fact, Henry was trying to convince me to go to PT. He said he had some strategies that would make it feel better. I really don’t have time for lying around on a table or doing exercises. I’m just too busy.”
Could it be true that Henry had tried to convince Perry to go to physical therapy? Maybe Beth Ann would know the answer to that one.
* * *
It was almost six when Daisy parked at the freestanding building on Market Street. Jonas was working on their gazebo on his friend’s property. She’d stayed at the tea garden to catch up on paperwork till five forty-five, knowing that Beth Ann Kohler got off work at six. Daisy had texted her and asked if they could meet after work. She went inside the dental office, thinking she’d sit in the waiting room until Beth Ann was finished for the day.
All was quiet in the office until she saw Beth Ann walking toward her from the hallway, sweater over her arm, purse in hand. Beth Ann was dressed in what Daisy presumed was the dental office’s uniform—navy slacks and a flowered scrub shirt. Though Beth Ann conjured up a wan smile, Daisy noticed how tired she looked. Grief could do that.
“How are you doing?” Daisy asked her.
“I came back to work hoping it would take my mind off everything, but it might be too soon. I’m off again tomorrow for a long weekend. I decided to have a memorial service for Henry next month when I bury his ashes. I couldn’t handle it now. That will give me time to assemble photographs and ask his friends to give eulogies. How about if we walk to the frozen yogurt shop? I need to stretch my legs.”
If Beth Ann needed time to pull herself together, a service in a month made sense.
The yogurt shop was about two blocks down Market Street. “Having yogurt for supper?” Daisy asked with a grin.
“That sounds good, don’t you think? Maybe I can get a banana split with nuts and count them as protein.”
Beth Ann was trying for levity, and Daisy went along with it, knowing their talk would turn serious soon enough.
As they began walking, Beth Ann took several deep breaths of the evening air.
After half a block in silence, Daisy decided to stay quiet and let Beth Ann vent or express free-form thoughts if she wanted to.
Beth Ann asked, “Do you have more questions for me about Henry?”
“Do you mind?” Daisy asked.
“Not if they get you some answers. When I signed my statement, the detective collected my DNA. I’m sure they’ll call me back again. They as much as said they would.”
Taking a spouse’s DNA was standard procedure, as was locking in their story to see if it remained consistent. “I have a feeling they’re busy with other interview subjects. I’d like to ask you about Henry’s friends.”
“Henry was friendly with everybody.”
“I’m more interested in his friendship with the guys he went to school with.”
“At college?”
“No. I mean high school. Did he have a present relationship with Brooks Landon?”
Beth Ann stopped walking as she thought about the question. “Henry bought a lawn tractor from Landon’s Tractor Supply. I think Brooks was the one who sold it to him. But as far as much other contact, I don’t think so.”
“How about Perry Russo?”
Beth Ann shrugged and began walking again. “We have our auto insurance through Perry. I think Henry and Perry went to a few Orioles games together. They were both baseball buffs. We went to a barbecue in the spring, and Perry and his wife and son were there. Come to think of it, Brooks Landon was, too, along with Dylan Meyer. Henry was better friends with Mick Ehrhart. They met now and then at Bases to watch games together and have a beer.”
Bases was the town’s go-to sports bar.
“Mick came over to the house now and then. Last fall he helped Henry split wood for winter.”
“So, Perry’s married, but Brooks and Mick aren’t?”
“I don’t know about Brooks but Mick has never married. Actually, he offered to help me with yard work if I need it since Henry’s gone. Does any of this help?”
“I’m not sure. I do think I’d like to talk to Mick Ehrhart, though. Maybe Dylan, too. I want to get a feel for all the men in their group. That’s hard to do with just a few questions.”
They’d reached the yogurt shop. Daisy opened the door, and Beth Ann preceded her inside. No other customers stood at the counter.
“A banana split,” Beth Ann told the clerk, as if just the idea of the treat could make her feel better.
Daisy hoped it could.