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Beverly tried one more time to convince Adam to take her with him on the hunt for Gabriel Karlstad, but he wouldn’t budge. So she tried a different tack. “I recognized one of those names, you know.”
“What?” he asked, giving her quick sideways glance before concentrating on the road again.
“From the documents in Mayor Lehmann’s study. I came across the same name while doing research on Representative Strudwick.”
“Which name?”
“Richard Nagra.”
“Never heard of him. What’s his connection?”
“He runs a moving company called Pierson’s. He was another of Strudwick’s financial backers, along with Reggie Forsythe.”
“Did you say Pierson was the name of the moving company?”
“Yes, why?”
“That happens to be the same name of an outfit involved in a furniture consignment scandal Forsythe was involved with. Accused of, at least. He was able to explain it all away, naturally.”
Beverly pondered that news for a moment. “So, Richard Nagra, via Pierson, creates a line from the mayor to Strudwick to Forsythe. And here I was feeling sorry for Nagra.”
“Whatever for?”
“His reputation took a nosedive in the past year or so. Along with his business.” She tried to recall all the details of the articles she’d read about Nagra in the Mayor’s study. There hadn’t been much to go on. “When did this consignment scandal take place, Adam?”
“A little over a year ago, about a year and a half.”
“Perhaps it’s mere coincidence, but Nagra’s fall from grace coincides with that time frame. Could Forsythe have threatened him in some way? To shut down his business?”
“The only reason to do that is if Nagra wasn’t in on the scam and found out later. Or, if he was a willing participant, he asked for more money to stay silent. Doubt Forsythe would take too kindly to blackmail.”
They drove in silence for a moment, then Beverly said, “Nagra lives near here. Or he did once, so say Mayor Lehmann’s documents.”
“Oh no, you’re not going to talk me into another harebrained scheme like breaking into the mayor’s house.”
“We didn’t break, we just entered. And you were invited in with hugs and kisses.” It wasn’t fair to tease him like that, but she was still perturbed at the scene she’d walked in on, with Adam’s arms around his ex. “We’ll stop by, ask the man a few questions, and then you can go chase after Goldie.”
Adam grimaced, but then he picked up his phone and called the office to get an address for Nagra. Beverly heard a high-pitched woman’s voice on the other end, trilling like a cedar waxwing in flight.
As Adam hung up, she said, “You need earplugs before talking to that woman.”
He grinned. “Sergeant Gray is notoriously cheerful. Whether it’s five in the morning or eleven at night, she’s always the same, even on the worse cases.”
“Did you get an address for Nagra?”
“You were right. He lives about ten miles from here.”
Adam pointed the car around in the other direction but didn’t talk much. Beverly watched the houses speed by, until they thinned out to one every few acres or so, before she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “This is what being a detective is like? Boring car rides, minimalist conversation, consorting with shady women?”
“I’ll grant you the last one,” Adam’s lips curled up into a small smile.
“What does Jinks do when she’s riding shotgun?”
“She hums.”
“Hums? You mean songs?”
“I wish. It’s more of a tuneless hum, random notes she strings together. I haven’t the faintest idea why.”
“Would you like me to—”
“God, no. She drives me nuts.”
Beverly grinned. “Score one for Detective Jinks. I’ll have to remember that.”
It didn’t take them long to reach the address Sergeant Gray had looked up for Adam. Nagra’s reputation had fallen off, and so had his homestead. Several shingles on the roof were buckled or curled, the peeling green paint on the shutters revealed gray wood underneath, and the posts on the wraparound porch were cracked.
Beverly followed Adam out of the car. He opened his mouth as if to tell her to stay behind, but instead just shook his head and motioned for her to come with him. The walkway skirted around a small creek, and Beverly clutched the railing across a boardwalk bridge, trying not to look down. When Adam looked at her strangely, she hurried along and maneuvered alongside him as he planted himself next to the front door.
Three series of knocks later, and the door opened. But it wasn’t what Beverly was expecting, and she could tell from the slight shifting in Adam’s posture that he was surprised, too.
Beverly couldn’t help herself from thinking the person in front of them could be described as a mythological troll. She guessed it was a woman from the purple striped stockings and gray skirt, but the electric white hair and cavernous wrinkles were more androgynous. The woman was half Adam’s height.
He asked her, “I’m looking for Mr. Richard Nagra. This is his last known address.”
“It’s his all right.” The woman scowled at them.
Adam asked, “May we speak with him?”
“If you can find him, sure.”
Adam clenched his jaw as he added, “Where did he go?”
“Damned if I know. I’m the caretaker here. He put me in charge to keep an eye on things, said he was only going to be gone for two weeks. That was two months ago.”
“No calls or letters from him since?”
“Not jack shit.”
Beverly didn’t think she’d heard a troll curse before. She bit her lip and concentrated on Adam’s questioning. “Did you call his business, Pierson Moving Company?”
“Every day. Said they don’t know where he is, either, even filed a missing person report. I tried to get them to fork over more money, but they hung up on me.”
“Money? You mean to pay you for being the caretaker?”
“I’ve eaten my way through the pantry. The only things left are cans of sauerkraut. Electric company’s come by twice to turn me off, but I sweet-talked ’em into keeping it on.”
“Did he say where he was going when he hired you?”
“Squat. I called up the mayor. They hung up on me, too.”
Adam did a good job of keeping his voice nonchalant as he pressed the troll further, “Why call the mayor?”
“They was a message from the mayor on Nagra’s answering machine. Figured they must know each other.”
“What did the message say?”
“Didn’t make no sense. Said, ‘Forsythe says you’re in.’”
“Only that, nothing else?”
“That and ‘don’t screw this one up.’”
The troll gawked up at Adam, her scowl so deep it was like a like the edges of a pit opening up among the caverns of wrinkles. “You’re a cop, right? ’Cause I can smell a cop a mile away.”
Adam nodded, and she added, “You find him. Find Mr. Richard Nagra. I want my money. And if he don’t come back soon, he might not have a house to come back to.”
“If you’re threatening arson, Miss—.”
She cackled at that. “No names. And if this house was to burn to the ground, you wouldn’t find me around nowheres. Just like Nagra.” With that, she stepped back and slammed the door in their faces.
Beverly looked at Adam, who shrugged, and they headed back to the car. Beverly forced herself to walk quickly over the footbridge and only grabbed the railing once. Adam put a hand on her shoulder and said, “If you’re afraid of more trolls under the bridge, I think we’re safe.” Beverly whirled around, knowing she hadn’t mentioned her troll impression out loud. Guess they were thinking alike.
She licked her lips. “What did the mayor mean by that ‘Forsythe says you’re in’ bit?”
“I’m more interested in the second part, the ‘don’t screw this one up’ comment. And whether it’s tied to Nagra’s disappearance. Not proof but intriguing all the same.”
Beverly said, “Did you have one of those troll dolls when you were a kid?”
“A girl at my school had a two-headed one. Butt-ugliest thing I ever saw.”
“That would fetch a ton of money today. The two-headed ones are rare. The original dolls were made by the Danish company Thomas Dam and called Dam Things. They’re said to bring you luck.”
Adam motioned with his thumb back at the house. “Tell that to our friend back there.”
“You don’t believe in luck, Adam Dutton?”
“You make your own luck. No prayers or rabbit’s feet or four-leaf clovers can take the place of sweat. As in hard work and perseverance.”
“But look how lucky it is I bumped into you at the Apple Valley Resort.”
“Is it? I arranged that you know.”
“Could have been Detective Jinks, but it was you.”
“And you think that’s lucky?” He eyed her with a look that was half-joking, half something more.
“Depends upon whether you buy me dinner or not.” She winked at him, and his jaw dropped open.
“Are you flirting with me, Miss Laborde?”
“I don’t flirt, I manipulate.”
He unlocked the car door but paused before slipping into the driver’s seat. “I’m not sure we should be seen together in public too much.”
She frowned at him. “Why not? Embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Hell, no. Worried Forsythe’s goons will see us and put two and two together.”
Beverly followed his reasoning for a moment and nodded. “You may be right. But I want a rain check.”
“Checks I have plenty of, rain not so much lately. But you’re on.”
She was a little disappointed but knew he was right. This was no time to get careless and make them both more of a target than they already were, both physically and politically. But the minute this whole nasty business was over, she was going to call in that rain check and maybe . . . No, that was all. Never think too far ahead, never plan, never trust anyone. It was the only way for her.
