He was deceived, p.14
He Was Deceived, page 14
part #1 of Zachary Goldman Mysteries Series
“Edie Dwayne.” Zachary watched the senator’s eyes for recognition and any emotion.
There was no response. Maybe he had already been told who it was about, so there was no surprise or other unguarded response.
“Edie Dwayne,” Neufeld repeated. “The name is vaguely familiar. I’m sorry, there were a lot of women working on my campaign and I don’t remember all the names or faces.”
Zachary had a picture of her on his phone, which he slid across the desk to the senator. He looked at it, again without a flicker of recognition.
“An attractive young woman,” he observed. “As I say… vaguely familiar, but I’m afraid I meet an awful lot of people. Did I know her personally?”
“No one has said you were close to her; it’s just that she worked on the campaign. She would have had more to do with the other women on the campaign, maybe your accountant and lawyer.”
He nodded. “Okay. And this recognition you wanted issued to her…?”
“Well, it would be a memorial tribute. For her husband and children.”
“She died?”
“Yes.” Zachary paused, analyzing the senator’s body language, looking for any tells. He should have known Edie’s name and how she died. Edie had been one of his campaign ladies and had been killed unexpectedly by an unknown gunman. Things like that were not just background noise. They made an impression on people. She was not just one person in a sea of faces. She was the woman who was killed out on Riverside Road. Shot and killed in the middle of his senatorial campaign.
“She was shot, actually,” he told Neufeld.
“Oh, dear.” Neufeld looked unmoved. No shock or dismay. “How terrible. What happened to her?”
“It was thought to be an accident at the time. Maybe some kids out target shooting or a hunter. But further investigation has suggested there might be more to it.”
He was deliberately overstating, hoping to see a real reaction, some emotion or concern. But he had been told that Neufeld hadn’t spent much time at the campaign office so, while he might mouth the words saying he was sorry for what had happened to Edie Dwayne and her family, the emotion did not reach his eyes. He was just hoping to get Zachary out of there before his next appointment showed up.
“What do you think happened to her? Was it suicide? Murder? We don’t see a lot of that kind of thing in this county.”
There was probably a lot more than Neufeld was aware of. He might see statistics, but they didn’t reflect the personal stories of the people who had been shot or killed.
“We have received information from an informant saying that it was a deliberate, targeted shooting.”
“Really? You never expect to see something like that in a small town like this. How terrible.”
Zachary nodded. “It really was very tragic. Three children still at home.”
“Ah,” he nodded gravely. “That is a tragedy.”
He moved a thick silver pen from the side of his desk to the middle, signaling that it was time to get on with the task.
“So you were hoping for a letter to her husband and children, expressing my sympathy for the loss of wife and mother…”
“Yes. You don’t remember her? No impressions, recollections of anything that she might have contributed to your campaign.”
“Contributed? Contributions are tracked in a database…”
“I don’t mean donations. I mean practically, what she did for you. How she helped to get you elected. You wouldn’t have made it without the employees and volunteers who helped with your campaign…”
“I can include something to that effect.”
“But you don’t remember her as an individual.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“You must have heard the news when she was killed. It would have been in the local news, talked about in your office. It isn’t every day one of your employees is shot.”
“I remember something about the accident,” he said vaguely. “But it seems to me that there wasn’t a lot of concern over it. I don’t mean that no one was concerned for the family, of course. Just that… it wasn’t like there was worry about a sniper or serial killer out there. It was just an accident, like happens out there. There are hunting accidents, people cleaning their guns, doing target shooting. It happens. In the big city, guns mean gangs and violence, but out in the country… guns are a tool, a part of country life. There are accidents, and they are tragic, but it is not something that I would have spent a lot of time thinking about.”
Zachary nodded slowly. All that made sense, but he still didn’t think the senator was being completely open. Even an accident would have been memorable. But he preferred pretending it had not meant anything to him, hadn’t made any impact on him.
“I wonder if I could talk to anyone else from your office who might have worked with Edie and remember her more clearly,” Zachary suggested. “Maybe the accountant or lawyer who worked with your campaign office.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with a tribute letter. You want something from me, the elected official. What does it matter what my lawyer or accountant remember about it?”
“They might remind you of a specific incident…”
Zachary knew it was a feeble attempt. As the senator said, who cared what his accountant or lawyer remembered? A letter to the family wouldn’t include any funny little anecdotes about Edie working at the campaign office. It would just use some stock phrases. A hard worker. Devoted to the campaign. A ray of sunshine.
“No, sorry,” Neufeld brushed him off. “I doubt if they will remember anything about her.”
“They are the ones who would have worked directly with her. I understand that she was friends with your accountant. Maybe I should contact him directly for a comment.”
“I suppose so.”
“Could I get contact information from you for Mr. Baxter?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen or talked to Ronnie Baxter in years.”
“Would your wife have his information?”
He raised his brows. “Why would she have it?”
“I understand she worked closely with the campaign. Maybe she kept in contact with him or knows where he went after the election.”
He frowned momentarily as if confused, then shook his head. “No, I don’t expect she would know anything. As I recall it… he retired to the family home in Scotland.”
Zachary was surprised. He had been picturing the possibly predatory Mr. Baxter as a fairly young man. In his thirties, maybe. Not as a sixty-year-old. But that might explain why Edie Dwayne had not been concerned about his offering her son candy. An older man with breath mints in his pocket. Not a virile, hormone-driven man in his prime.
But there were plenty of grandpas and other older men who used their age as a cloak for predatory activities. Even into their seventies and eighties, harmless older men were not always harmless old men. With modern medicine, people were healthy and active much later in life. Not drooling, senile, white-haired men slumped in rockers. Men who hiked and biked daily, who took on second or third wives or mistresses, and who continued to prey on children long past what would have been their expiry dates in decades gone by.
Zachary realized the senator was watching him, waiting for a response.
“Oh, I didn’t realize he was that old,” Zachary told him. “I didn’t realize that he was retirement age.”
“What is ‘retirement age’ in this world? Tech mavens retire at thirty. People like me are still going strong in their eighties. Our lives are not as cleanly divided into seasons of life as they once were.”
“No, I guess not. How old was he? Is he?”
The senator waved this question away without answering it. “I think that as far as a tribute letter goes, we will stick to stock language. If you give my wife the address that it is to be sent to, she will prepare something. I’ll sign it and we’ll get it out to them. I assume that would be satisfactory?”
“Uh, yes. Of course. I would like to make contact with some of the other people she worked with.”
“That’s up to you. I’m afraid I am not in touch with Ronnie anymore and don’t know of anyone who is. He’s entered another phase of his life—landowner in Scotland rather than American accountant. I imagine there are people in town who are still in contact with him, but I don’t have any suggestions.”
“And what about your lawyer? Brent Cousins?”
“What about him?”
“Do you have his contact information? Maybe he would remember something about Edie Dwayne.”
“Maybe he would… I’m sure you can find him in the directory.”
Zachary didn’t ask what directory. Of course it would not take him long to track down the phone number, email address, and postal address for a lawyer practicing in Vermont. The name was all he needed.
“Is he not working for you anymore either?”
“He is, but I’m not wasting billable hours having him draft a congratulatory letter to this woman.” He seemed to have forgotten for the moment that they were not talking about a congratulatory letter, but a tribute for a woman who had died. “If you want to contact him personally, go right ahead.”
“Of course.” Zachary rose to his feet. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I really appreciate it. You’ve been more than accommodating.”
He could see the relief in the senator’s eyes that he was going to leave on his own without any cajoling. There hadn’t even been a tap at the door to indicate that his next appointment had arrived. He would have a few minutes to breathe and maybe take a bathroom or coffee break before meeting with the next person on his busy schedule.
And how much of the relief was due to not having to discuss Edie Dwayne any further?
Zachary extended his hand across the big desk, and the senator rose, smoothed his bespoke suit, and shook Zachary’s hand briskly and firmly. “Thank you for coming. It was good to hear from one of my constituents.”
28
Zachary gave Cathy Neufeld the information she would need to pull together the appropriate tribute letter for Edie Dwayne. He had to follow through or they would wonder just what the heck he had been there for if it wasn’t really to get the requested letter.
Neufeld’s next appointment arrived while Zachary and Cathy Neufeld were talking. She nodded at the dark-haired man in a well-fit three-piece suit.
“He’s ready for you.”
The man nodded back and entered Neufeld’s office.
After giving her the information she would need, he returned to his car.
In the car, Zachary called Heather to give her a few more assignments.
“Hey, Zachy,” Heather greeted. “How is the new file going?”
“I’m not sure I’m getting any traction on it. But I’m still working on it. How is your workload?”
“I can take more on.”
“Okay. I am looking to speak to Ronnie Baxter and Brent Cousins. Ronnie Baxter was an accountant and apparently retired and moved to Scotland sometime in the last ten years. Cousins is a lawyer, so he should be easy to track down. Both of them worked for Senator Neufeld during his election campaign. He may or may not still have contact with them. I would be interested in any connections you can find between them.”
“Senator Neufeld?”
“Yeah. Our victim, Edie Dwayne, worked for him. Or for his election campaign. He professes not to remember her, but I think that’s a load of crap. I think he just doesn’t want to get involved.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I’m sure he has plenty of work to do without getting himself involved in a ten-year-old accidental death.”
“The thing is, I didn’t ask him to. I just asked him to write a tribute letter to Edie Dwayne, since he knew her through the election campaign. But he denies ever knowing her.”
“Oh… well, that does seem a little bit odd. But he probably didn’t have much to do with the election campaign employees and volunteers. He would have had a lot of other stuff to do.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t even remember her? Don’t you think you would remember if someone you worked with died? Or even someone at Grant’s office?”
“Yeah… you’re right about that. If Grant came home and told me that someone at his office had died—even if it was just an accident—it would be a big deal. I’d want to know all the details. Talk about it with my friends.”
“And you wouldn’t forget it next week. Or in a few years, when someone says, ‘Oh, do you remember that woman who was killed at Grant’s office,’ you wouldn’t say that you didn’t remember it.”
“Do you want me to do background on the senator?”
Zachary considered that. He was sure there would be plenty of information online with his official biography and social media channels on it, but there could be a lot of information that was suppressed or kept quiet. Joe Blow voter and the spoon-fed media would never find out about it, but a good detective could dig up a lot that an elected official would prefer to keep quiet.
“Yeah. Why don’t you do some background on him for me? Medium depth. I don’t need to get deep into his financials or acquaintances, but more than is in the official biographies.”
“All right,” Heather agreed cheerfully. “I will track down these two guys and find out what Senator Neufeld has been doing that he would rather the rest of the world not know about.”
After talking to Heather, Zachary headed to Oliver’s acreage. He had the geo-coordinates, which he plugged into the maps app on his phone. He hadn’t arranged for the visit ahead of time, but he figured it was time to give Oliver an interim report. And he wanted to see where Edie Dwayne had lived. She hadn’t been there for ten years, but Zachary still wanted to get a feeling for where and how she had lived before her death. The more he could get into her head, the better chance he had of finding out what had happened to her on the isolated road.
He still didn’t know why she had been out there. Had she been planning to meet someone? Taking a shortcut? Running an errand? What reason did she have to be sitting out there where it was so isolated when she was shot? Oliver had not suggested any reason for Edie to be out there. But he hadn’t said it was unusual either, so maybe she had a legitimate reason that he hadn’t bothered to mention.
The house was about half an hour out of town. Far enough to feel like it was secluded, but still close enough to get to the schools, Edie’s and Oliver’s work, the grocery store and bakery, and whatever other amenities they needed without having to drive for hours.
Oliver’s car was parked beside the house, not in the garage. Zachary stopped and listened before getting out of the car. He didn’t want to run into a guard dog unexpectedly. They’d previously had a pit bull and might have a new one.
But apparently, Rosie had not been replaced, and there was no guard dog in place. No other obvious security measures. Zachary looked around, pondering that. Oliver had been getting odd phone calls and had not bothered to beef up security? If he thought that it was possible that his wife had been murdered, then why hadn’t he taken the steps necessary to protect himself and his home better?
Zachary climbed out of the car and took a step away, intending to go straight to the door. There was no one out here to break into his car or to plant a bomb or mess with any of its electrical systems. But he couldn’t make himself leave it unlocked and go up to the doorway of the house.
He locked the car, pressing the button several times to arm the security system. The locks depressed as they were supposed to, and the light came on to indicate that the proximity and tampering sensors were armed. He could rest easy that it was well-protected, even out in the middle of nowhere where no one could touch it.
But he didn’t feel happy about it. He pressed the button on his key fob a couple more times. He wanted to try the handle of the door, but knew that would set off the alarm. Not the impression of competence he wanted to give his client.
The door to the house opened and Oliver stood on the threshold.
“Zachary?”
Zachary was able to break away from the car. He strode up the gravel walkway, mostly cleared of snow, and approached the door.
“Hi, I was in the area and thought I would stop by,” he told his client with a smile.
“You were in the area.”
“I have been making some inquiries. If you’re not too busy, it might be a good time to stop by and let you know what I have found so far.”
“Yes, of course. That’s just fine.”
He pushed the door open wide for Zachary to enter.
The house was rustic but well-lived-in. The furniture was twenty years old and had not been updated since Edie’s death. Pictures on the walls and fireplace mantle showed the family’s maturation over the past twenty-some years since Oliver and Edie had gotten married: young children with both parents, older children with just Oliver. The pictures of Edie had not been cleared away or lodged in a photo album but remained on display.
Zachary saw a picture of Jeff with a square-faced dog that must have been Rosie. A happy boy, despite all that had happened to him. He had been lucky enough to be able to stay with his father and siblings, and they had helped to cushion the fall. Not like Zachary, cast out and on his own, trying to deal with burns and PTSD, new families, bullies, no friends, learning disabilities, meds and their side effects, and the various abuses that went on in the foster families and institutions that he churned through. Jeff had still had a loving, caring family.
29
He forgot all about the car, the security or insecurity of their isolation, and even the Christmas decorations on display inside the house when he saw the roaring fire in the fireplace.
He had been able to push through his anxiety over fire. At least, he was no longer thrown into a tailspin of controlled flashbacks to the fire that had burned down his boyhood home. But that didn’t mean he was comfortable sitting in a room with a fire burning or didn’t worry that an ember could fly out and set the house on fire…
