Chapter 20

There was a dusting of snow on the ground when we arrived in Lake Placid. It looked like it had been there for a while. It also looked like the town was gearing up for the winter sports season. We parked the car and checked into the resort. Our room had a great view of Mirror Lake and the Mountains beyond. We headed into the bar to unwind and have lunch

“This is nice! Very scenic,” said Tim as he looked at the view of the village and lake.

“Yes, it is. I’ve been here before and liked it very much. So what are we going to do?”

“Jack Riley made a donation to the Global Neighbors Fund, which has its headquarters here. He also attended a conference here just before he died. I thought I could do some investigating and we could also have some down time.”

“This is the first time we’ve actually gone away together,” I observed. We both ordered a pale ale from a local brewery.

“Yes, it is,” replied Tim with a smile. “But it won’t be the last time!”

“I’m still having trouble picturing Jack Riley as a doer of good deeds. He was such an asshole to everyone in Bath. Even Reverend Bailey found it hard to find anything nice to say about him at the funeral.”

“Not to mention,” added Tim, “that his wife broke into hysterical laughter at the eulogy when someone said something nice about him.”

We read over the menu and both ordered the grilled trout with wild mushroom rice, accompanied by baked squash. The food was excellent and we both ate in silence. As the plates were cleared away, we ordered coffee.

“The weather is great and we have the whole afternoon ahead of us,” I said. “What are we doing first: business or pleasure?”

“It’s chilly out, but sunny. Let’s go bundle up and head out for a walk through the village. We’ll stop at the Global Neighbors’ office and then walk around Mirror Lake. If it’s not too far, that is.”

“The walk is two point seven miles around the lake,” I said.

“How do you know that?” Tim asked.

“Just a piece of trivia I remembered. Now if you ask me what I had for breakfast, I couldn’t tell you,” I replied. Tim just nodded.

We headed back to our room and dressed for the weather. Though it was sunny, there were clouds gathering by the mountains, and the weather people were calling for snow later. We headed into the village and since it was between seasons, there was very little activity. We found the Global Neighbors’ office on the third floor above a sports shop in the center of town.

A young woman was sitting at the reception desk when we walked in. Tim showed her his badge and asked to see the person in charge.

“That would be Mrs. Bancroft. She is the regional director of the program.” She disappeared into the office and returned with a middle-aged African American woman in a rather severe business suit.

“What can I do for you Chief Mallory and …?” she looked at me.

“This is my collogue, Dr. Ashworth,” said Tim. I gave him a sideways look. I never use my academic title. Tim must be trying to impress.

“A pleasure, Dr. Ashworth,” she said as she shook my hand.

“We are looking into the murder of Jack Riley. He made a rather large donation to your organization recently and traveled up here for a conference shortly before he died,” Tim said as Mrs. Bancroft took us into her office and indicated that we should sit at the small conference table.

“I see,” she said. “Let me get out the files for you.” She went to the file cabinet, picked up a red file folder and handed it to Tim.

“Jesus Christ!” said Tim after briefly looking over the folder.

“Exactly,” replied Mrs. Bancroft. Tim handed the file folder over to me.

“My, my, this is interesting!” I said as I looked over the file. It appeared that Jack Riley wrote out a big check that his bank could not cover. The check bounced.

“That’s only half the story,” continued Mrs. Bancroft. “Jack Riley was on our board of directors and had access to our funds. Most of our money goes to medical assistance in South America. Apparently only half the money we sent arrived at its destination.”

“So Jack was ripping your organization off?” said Tim. It wasn’t really a question.

“I’m afraid he was,” Mrs. Bancroft replied.

“Did you report it to the authorities?” I asked.

“We’ve only just discovered the discrepancy during an outside audit.”

“So you haven’t yet reported it?” asked Tim. I noticed that he was taking notes.

“No. We will as soon as the audit is finished.”

“Did Jack know that your organization was going to be audited?” I asked.

“It was in our annual report, which went out in late October.”

“Jack was already dead when that came out,” Tim observed. “Thanks for your time. You’ve been most helpful. If you think of anything else give me a call.” Tim gave her his card.

“I certainly will.” She got up and walked us to the door.

I noticed the receptionist checking out Tim as we walked out of the office.

“What do you think?” asked Tim as we walked out of the building and up the street.

“I think the receptionist would like you to interrogate her.”

“I meant about the interview, asshole.”

“I think that everyone is justified to think that Jack Riley was scum. Stealing from charity? That very well might be the motive for murder,” I replied.

“Money is always a motive. I think we need to look much closer at Jack Riley and his charity works.”

 

The rest of the day we spent sightseeing by taking a drive out in the Adirondacks. The sky was a brilliant blue and really emphasized the snow covered mountains. Skiers were already on the slopes thanks to the cold weather and the ability of modern technology to create snow.

We returned to the village and found a great little Italian restaurant for dinner. Then we went to an ice skating completion at the ice arena.

“I’m not sure I get what they are trying to do,” said Tim as we watched the skaters glide and loop over the ice.

“Looks lovely, though, doesn’t it?” I replied as a male skater in a tight costume jumped and twisted.

“Yes, yes it does,” answered Tim.

On the drive back the next day we took the ferry across Lake Champlain. It was very cold and we stayed in the ferry’s cabin where it was warm and dry. We arrived in Burlington and crossed Vermont into New Hampshire and then back to Maine. I was anxious to get home and pick up Argus. I knew the Lowells would take good care of him, but this was one of the few times he had spent the night without me.

It was after dark when we pulled into the Lowells’ driveway. I could hear Argus barking as I went up the steps.

“How did he do?” I asked Dorothy Lowell.

“He was fine. He sat in my lap all day and then slept on the bed all night. He does seem glad to see you, though” she said. That was an understatement. Argus was jumping on me and barking and then running to Tim and barking and going back and forth.

“Thanks so much for looking after him,” I said as I handed her a wrapped package. I had bought them two Adirondack mugs.

“Anytime,” said John. “He was no trouble at all, and he was great company.”

“Did you learn anything from your trip?” asked Dorothy.

“Oh, yes,” answered Tim. “More than we wanted to know. But as usual, the more answers you get, the more questions that pop up.”

“And that,” stated John, “is what makes life interesting.”

 

“This happened to you last year, too,” said Dr. Kahill as he took the thermometer out of my mouth. “As soon as you close the windows for the season, you develop allergies.”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s too cold for fresh air this time of year.”

“That’s why you need to come in and get a prescription for allergy medicine.”

I was sitting on the edge of the examining table. Since coming back from Lake Placid, I had been stuffed up and uncomfortable.

“I thought people had allergies during the spring and fall,” I said.

“They do! And some, like you for instance, are sensitive to indoor pollution. Try to spend more time outdoors when you feel stuffed up.”

“I will,” I promised.

“Anything new on the Jack Riley murder?” he asked.

“Not that I know of,” I answered. I wasn’t at liberty to discuss what Tim and I found out about Jack Riley in Lake Placid.

“Not to speak ill of the dead, but we shouldn’t be wasting tax dollars looking for Jack Riley’s killer. Jack was a nasty piece of shit.”

“That,” I said, “seems to be the general feeling about him.”

“Now go get this filled and get some fresh air. And let me know if Tim makes any more progress on the case.”

“I will,” I said as I left the doctor’s office.