Monday, June 5
It was 7:30 when I pulled my truck into Jake’s drive. He had the good fortune to have a cottage adjacent to Newport State Park. So he was surrounded by open fields that backed to protected woods.
Behind his limestone cottage was a spectacular display of large, tumbling clouds against a cobalt blue sky. New grass was greening in the fields round his place. I shut off the engine and sat for a moment taking it all in. On the drive over, a guy had pulled off Highway 42 to snap the sunset, reminding me once again why I came here. Sunsets so moving they made people pull off the road; people so moved by sunsets they pulled off the road.
Well, I could only delay the inevitable so long.
I knocked on the carved wood door. Zoe opened it.
“Hi, Ms. Girard. C’mon in. Dad’s in the kitchen.”
“Leigh, call me Leigh.” I could smell the familiar scent of Asian cooking—Jake’s specialty. Peanut oil, mushrooms, onions, shrimp, celery, garlic and his secret ingredient, turmeric.
Jake stuck his head around the corner. “Zoe, get Leigh a glass of wine. It’s in the fridge.”
Zoe went into the kitchen. I could hear the low murmur of voices and Jake’s laugh. Talk about feeling like a fifth wheel.
Zoe came back. Again I noticed how she shared her father’s lean bones. She was all angles. Her jeans barely hugged her hips, and her tight, blue knit top revealed small, high breasts. Around her neck was a leather strap holding a silver leaf pendant. She had silver studs in her ears. And there was that scarlet halo of hair.
“You starting college next fall?” I asked, taking the glass of wine from her.
She sat down on a chair, putting one foot under her. She wasn’t wearing shoes. Her toenails were painted a lipstick red.
“Well, actually, it’s my second year,” she said, laughing. “I skipped a year.”
Smart and cute. Ugh. “Where?”
“Northwestern.” She played with the leaf around her neck.
“What are you studying?”
“Theater. You ever teach there? Dad says you used to be a college teacher.”
Theater? She also shared her father’s love of the artistic and impractical. Another dreamer who’ll have to find a day job.
“Uh, no. Not there. They wouldn’t hire the likes of me.”
“Oh.” She looked up at the ceiling. “What’s up with you and my father?” She had the decency to flush when she asked the question.
“Not much right now,” I said, taken aback by her directness.
She nodded her head up and down slowly. “That’s what I thought. Except, sometimes he’s awful sneaky about stuff. He thinks he has to protect me from things. But if something’s going on, you should just tell me. I can handle it.”
“What’s your dad say?”
“You work together. But I know there’s more. I could tell that day on the beach.”
I put my glass of wine down on a side table. I didn’t see any point in lying to her. “We were involved over the winter. But we’re not now.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Jake said. I wondered how long he had been standing in the doorway.
* * *
“I don’t know who’s pulling your chain,” Jake said. “But I’m not running this or that other one now that Ritter’s been arrested.” I had played Weathers’s message for him, given him the second letter from the killer to read, and detailed my encounter with Weathers in the bar, omitting my suspicion that he might be the killer. I wanted Jake to make the connection.
Jake continued. “I have to agree with Burnson on this. To run this would be irresponsible.”
“Ritter didn’t do it,” I said, pushing my plate away. My appetite had soured. An assortment of carrots, celery and mushrooms, and a clump of rice were still on my plate.
“Says you. Still can’t do it.” What with Jake’s cautious attitude and his new haircut, I felt like I was talking to a stranger. At least he was wearing his usual blue work shirt and jeans. Maybe he could be saved.
“Jake, there’s no way Ritter wrote that first letter. And that second letter, which is almost identical to the first, came after he was arrested.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t do the murders.”
“What’s his motive?”
“Sometimes there doesn’t have to be one. Some people just get off on killing.”
I knew that only too well. “He’s not a killer. He prides himself on sexual conquest the old-fashioned way, by lying and manipulation. He considers himself a stud. And this second letter gives us another literary clue.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “You mean the title of Maclean’s book, A River Runs Through It? Where’s the clue, everyone knows the murders happened near a river.”
Jake was purposely being dismissive. “The letter doesn’t say, ‘a river runs through it’, it says ‘a river running through her, soon you’. The only way a river can run through a person is if the person is dead and her body is in the river. Neither Stephanie nor Lisette were found in the river. And since these are the first homicides committed in the vicinity of the Mink, I think he’s referring to another murdered girl and another river?”
“C’mon, Leigh, that’s reaching. Like I said some guy is yanking your chain.”
“Dad, I think maybe you should listen to Leigh. If what she says is right, this guy who left the letters is sort of like stalking her. Even if he isn’t the killer, he’s got serious problems. And that one part about a river running through her sounds like he wants to hurt her.” Zoe dropped her voice. It was obvious hurt was the wrong word.
She was an unexpected ally. But I wasn’t sure she was helping my cause. “Let this go. Zoe’s right. Who knows what this guy’s agenda is. Take the second letter to the police. If it’s Weathers sending the letters, let the police deal with it. I’d tell you to take the tape to the police, but then you’d have to explain your breaking into Weathers’s place.”
“I didn’t break in. I walked in. What do you know about Andy Weathers?”
“Not much. He’s lived on the Island for about ten years. Nice enough guy. He and Roz have been together a while.”
“You don’t find it strange his leaving that message on my machine? Or the way he acted last night in the bar?”
Jake gave Zoe a look. She started cleaning up the plates. He waited until she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Leigh, this time I’m going to play by the rules. No heroics from you. Let the police handle it. I don’t know if Weathers is playing with you or if your imagination is getting the better of you. You’ve been through a lot lately. You probably should take some time off. Take a trip. Get away from here till things settle down. As for the letters, who knows? After all, you put yourself out there last fall with the Peck case. Granted, you were right. But you can’t keep doing this kinda thing. Eventually your luck’s going to run out.”
I was furious. “What kinda thing would that be?”
“Sticking your neck out. I don’t know if Ritter is the killer or not. But I don’t want you involved in it.”
“Seems you don’t want me involved in a lot of things.” I pushed back my chair from the table.
“Okay, is that what this is about? I apologized. I was wrong not to tell you about Zoe. I gave you some space. Now let’s get past it.” He’d pushed his chair back as well.
“I’m investigating the murder of two young women. That I found. How do I get past that? You put me on the story. And I intend staying on it until I think it’s over. As for the rest, don’t flatter yourself. I knew what we were about from the beginning. Like you said on the beach, I haven’t told you everything either.”
I stood up. “Thanks for dinner. Tell Zoe goodbye.”
Jake followed me to the front door. “Leigh, c’mon. You look like hell.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that today,” I said, storming out the door.