25

BACK INSIDE THE RELATIVE peace and quiet of his office, Mike decided he might just as well tackle another piece of unpleasant business. No reason to let the bitter taste in my mouth go to waste. He picked up his phone and dialed the number listed on Frank Cheslo’s business card for the home office of Computer Solutions of New England.

A relentlessly perky female voice answered on the second ring with a scripted, “Thank you for calling Computer Solutions of New England. What solution can we provide for you?”

Thankful he had at least gotten a real person and not a recording, Mike identified himself as Chief of the Paskagankee, Maine, Police Department and asked to speak with the man or woman in charge. The voice came back, “May I ask what this is in regards to?”

“It’s a confidential matter regarding one of your employees, Mr. Frank Cheslo,” Mike answered.

“Mr. Cheslo is out of the office right now and is not expected in until at least tomorrow, perhaps the next day,” the disembodied voice told him.

“I understand that,” Mike said evenly. “Now, please connect me to the person in charge immediately. This is an urgent police matter.”

Coolly, the voice replied, “Hold please,” and Mike listened to two or three minutes of elevator music that quickly convinced him—not that he had had much doubt to begin with—that it would be more pleasant to continue his conversation with the two Statie jokers setting up shop out in the station than have to suffer through this musical torture. He wondered idly how many customers Computer Solutions of New England lost every day just because the callers couldn’t stand having their ears assaulted on the telephone by bland Muzak versions of ABBA and KC and the Sunshine Band while waiting on hold.

At last an authoritative male voice came on the line and without introduction asked brusquely, “What’s Frank done? If it’s something stupid like drunk driving again, this company won’t be held responsible.”

Mike introduced himself and asked, “Who am I speaking with, please?”

“This is Earle Stanley. I’m the owner and CEO of CompuSol New England. This is a small business and I’m very busy, Chief . . . I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“McMahon,” Mike replied. “Mike McMahon.” He wondered how Stanley’s company remained in business given the lack of telephone etiquette that seemed to be in evidence from the top man on down. “So, Mr. Stanley, Frank Cheslo is an employee of yours, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Mike could imagine the man holding his telephone handset away from his ear and fuming at his inability to rush things along.

“Mr. Stanley, we’re not calling you about a drunk-driving situation.”

“Then what is it? What has Frank gone and done now?”

“He’s gone and gotten himself murdered, Mr. Stanley.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line while Earle Stanley digested the information. “What? Murdered? What are you taking about? Where are you calling from again?”

“The name of the town is Paskagankee, Maine, Mr. Stanley, and you’ve probably never heard of it. We’re on Route 24, roughly halfway between Presque Isle and Orono.”

“I don’t understand,” Stanley said. “What was he doing in a hick town in the middle of nowhere anyway? What happened to him?”

Mike swallowed the sarcastic retort that tried to leap out of his mouth of its own accord and said, “Mr. Cheslo was involved in a car accident on a remote section of road during the terrible ice storm that has been ravaging the area for the last few days. We believe he stepped out of his vehicle to retrieve some survival gear from the trunk and was ambushed.” Mike decided the man didn’t need to know the condition of Cheslo’s body when they found him. He almost wished he didn’t know.

He concluded, “That’s all the information we can really divulge at the moment, but the investigation is ongoing. The reason I’m calling, sir, is that we could find no contact information of a personal nature in Mr. Cheslo’s possession. Does he have a wife, girlfriend, or some other relative we could notify?”

“Well, Chief McMahon, Frank just started working here a few months ago, and as far as I know, no one has gotten too close to him. Our sales force works long hours and each member has quite a large territory to cover, so contact between our employees is spotty and rather random at best. I don’t know offhand if Frank ever mentioned a wife or girlfriend, but I will certainly check our records and notify the appropriate next of kin; the person Frank listed as his emergency contact in our employment package.”

“I would appreciate that, Mr. Stanley. If you think of anything you believe might be of help in our investigation,” Mike said optimistically, still hoping the State Police team wouldn’t shut him out, “no matter how trivial it might seem, please call at any time of the night or day. Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry to have to deliver such terrible news.”

Mike hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, relieved to have gotten the call out of the way but disappointed with its result. A man had been brutally murdered and there didn’t seem to be anyone who would even notice, much less give a damn. Kind of a depressing prospect, Mike thought sadly.