Double Forté, page 9
part #1 of LeGarde Mystery Series
An anguished expression crossed her pretty face and her mouth tightened. She shook her head and rested it on her knees.
The poor girl harbored memories of terrible atrocities, most of which she hadn’t divulged to me until we were married.
To help ease the pain, she’d thrown herself into her musical studies. Although we’d taken piano lessons from the same octogenarian in the village, she’d progressed more rapidly than me. Her father had said it was “her calling.” He was right.
With her encouragement, I, too, had finally mastered the piano and had developed a deep affection for the instrument. One year after our wedding, Elsbeth had been on the verge of beginning a worldwide piano concert tour. She was nineteen when she’d discovered she was pregnant with our child. She’d given up the career and had devoted her life to Freddie, allowing me to plug along in the university, where I eventually discovered that teaching music was my true calling.
Shaking myself back to the present, I entered the room and sat on a plastic chair by the wall.
Siegfried tossed his long blond ponytail over his shoulder and looked around. “Grüß Gott, Professor,” he said softly.
“Hi, Sig.”
He turned back to the dog, stroked the fur around his neck, and reverently pulled a sheet over the still form. Siegfried’s broad shoulders shook several times before he regained control and turned back toward me. “He’s gone now.” He wiped the corners of his eyes.
I walked over to him and lifted my hand to his shoulder. “He was an old dog, Sig. Maybe it was his time.”
“Ja, but it is so hard, Professor. We have known Jasper since he was a puppy. Millie and Oscar will be so—” He looked up with a childlike expression in his eyes. “So—”
“Devastated, Sig. They’ll be devastated,” I said.
“Ja. They loved Jasper like a child.”
Freddie breezed into the room with flushed cheeks.
“Hi, Daddy.” She gave me a strong hug, looked up at Siegfried’s solemn expression, and glanced over at the still bundle under the sheet. She walked over to the dog and Siegfried slumped onto a nearby chair.
“Poor old Jasper,” she said. She walked back to Siegfried and laid her arm around his shoulders. He sat in the chair, looking lost.
“At least he's out of pain, now, Uncle Siegfried. You must be so tired, why don’t you let Dad take you home?”
Siegfried took one last look at the still form under the sheet. Finally, nodding his head in agreement, he got his coat from the closet and slowly walked out to the car with me.
Chapter 22
I drove down Goodland Road slowly, trying to help Siegfried work through his sorrow.
“Will Freddie call Oscar and Millie?” he asked.
“I’m sure she will, Sig. She’ll let them down gently.”
We drove past the turnoff for Lewis Road, and the memories of the previous night flooded my brain. Little Sadie tied to the bed, my insane desire to break in and rescue her, the snowmobile racing off into the distance, and the perilous climb down the ledge to save the little girl. My eyes scanned the darkening horizon. I saw no movement or sign of life.
If Baxter were out there, he'd need access to a heat source or he'd die. A fire would produce smoke, and would be visible from miles away. I wondered if he’d prepared for the day the law would come after him, and had some alternate hideaway in the woods.
The sun had gone down a half hour ago, leaving pink fingers of dusk stretching across the frozen fields under the indigo sky. Seven deer browsed around the edge of the road, picking at the shrubs that pushed up out of the snow pack. We drove past them, and they all lifted their heads simultaneously, poised for flight.
“Professor?”
I looked at him briefly, downshifting to second gear to help the old car climb Goodland Hill.
“Yes, Sig?”
“Maybe the Stones will want a puppy.”
I thought about it for a moment. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Sheba’s due soon, right?”
There had been no answers so far from the ad that we’d placed in Sunday’s paper, and Siegfried had grown fonder of the displaced canine with each passing day.
“Ja. The puppies should come soon.”
“I think I’d wait a while before asking, but next weekend when they come to dinner, you might take them out to the carriage house and introduce them to Sheba. She’s a beautiful dog. By the time the puppies are old enough to be placed, Oscar and Millie might be ready. Good idea, my friend. Excellent idea.”
He flashed a half-smile and settled down to gaze at the passing scenery.
The clock on the dash read five o’clock.
“Do you mind if we catch the news, Sig?”
He shook his head, still watching the fading colors as night crept slowly over the land. “Nein.”
I pushed the preset selection to WRLN and turned up the volume. “Maybe we’ll hear something about Baxter.”
The NPR announcer from Washington described continuing fighting in the Middle East, another stock market plunge, and a blizzard that paralyzed the state of Nebraska.
Transitioning smoothly, the well-schooled voice of local reporter Rhonda Tuttle whispered over the airwaves. “And in local news, one of Rochester’s up and coming lawyers has been reported missing.”
I turned up the volume.
“Bob Perkins, of the DeLano and Perkins Law Firm, has been reported missing by his wife, Linda. According to reports, Mr. Perkins left for a business trip in Chicago last Thursday and hasn’t returned as scheduled. Chicago police have been notified and flight schedules are being examined to see if the lawyer did indeed make the trip back to Rochester on Saturday evening.”
An audio clip of Linda Perkins followed the announcement. Her voice trembled with anxiety. “This isn’t like Bob! I know something’s happened to him. He always calls me just before he boards the plane and when he arrives in Rochester. I’m frantic with worry. If anyone—”
The clip ended there. Rhonda continued with the local news coverage.
“The residents of the Park Road Home received donations for their new furnace, partially funded by the Home Heating Oil Fund of New York. And finally, the search continues for the suspected former police officer who reportedly kidnapped his own child and was holding her hostage in the small town of East Goodland. And now, here’s Lincoln Fielding with the traffic report.”
I turned off the radio and exchanged surprised glances with Siegfried.
“Are they talking about our Bob Perkins?” he asked.
I nodded in his direction as I spun the wheel to the left for the final climb up Sullivan Hill Road. “Uh huh. It’s Harold’s partner. Weird, huh?”
Siegfried looked at me with wide eyes. “Ja. Very strange. Considering I picked him up from the airport last night before I went to the clinic.”
I turned to look at him briefly. “What?”
“Ja. When you were helping the little girl last night, he called and said he could not get through to his wife, the phone was busy, or off the hook. His plane had been cancelled the day before because of bad weather, and he had just gotten onto the plane in what-do-you-call-it, standing mode?”
“Standby?”
“Ja, standby.”
“Did you drive him home?”
“No. I left him at his office. That is where he left his car, Professor. I dropped him next to his Mercedes.”
The color drained from Siegfried’s face. “I saw him drive away. I wanted to be sure his battery was good in the cold weather. Do you think he was in an accident, Professor? The roads were schlecht.”
“It’s possible. We’ll have to call the police when we get home.”
We drove in silence up Sullivan Road. I turned into the drive, bouncing over the snowy ruts. I parked by the carriage house, hitched the parking brake, and we both got out. On the walk to the porch, I spotted a police cruiser parked on the far side of the barn.
I motioned to the cruiser and told Siegfried I was going to have a word with the officer. Siegfried nodded and headed for the house.
I ducked my head down to avoid the strong wind and jogged to the squad car. The driver’s side window was misted on the inside. I couldn't recognize the occupant. The power window swished down, revealing Officer Adam Knapp.
“Evening, Officer Knapp.”
He smiled. “Evening Professor. Please, call me Adam.”
“Right. Adam. Quiet so far?” I scanned the land around the barn.
“Yep. Haven't seen anything 'cept a few deer and rabbits.”
“Were they in the garden? They've been feasting on the winter corn salad greens I planted in September. Nice and tasty if they can get at them through the snow pack.”
“I think so. They were over there, next to those old corn stalks.”
I looked out at the garden. In the dusky light, I could just make out the outline of the cornstalks. Their papery leaves rattled in the breeze long after we'd harvested the Silver King sweet corn. I turned back to him and shivered when a cold gust of wind stole down my neck. I pulled my parka closer.
“Yup. That's the corn salad. Oh well, it doesn't matter. I haven't been out there lately to harvest it, anyway.”
Adam shifted in his seat and reached over to take another sip of coffee. I recognized a mug from the house and realized Mrs. Pierce had been out to see him. The remains of corn muffins were wrapped in a red-and-white checked napkin. It was clear our mother hen had been at work.
“We haven't got any news on Baxter, Professor. He's either left town, found a friend to hide him, or doing some pretty nasty winter camping out there.”
I sighed and looked toward the woods. “You think he's taken off, don't you, Adam?”
“Yes, I think he's probably long gone by now. But there's no evidence to support my theory, so it's best we play it safe.”
“I hope you're right. By the way, Freddie will be coming home around eight. She drives a silver Toyota Sienna. Will you keep an eye out for her?”
“You bet. I’ve already spoken with your housekeeper about who lives here and your family vehicles. Don’t you worry, Professor. We’ll find him before long. Just go on inside and relax. I’ve got it covered.”
“Thanks. Let us know if you get hungry.”
He pointed to the muffins. “Mrs. Pierce is taking good care of me in that department.”
“Okay. Good night, then.” I turned back to the house, hoping Adam’s intuition was correct. Just in case, I planned to double-check all the locks on the doors and windows tonight.
Chapter 23
I dropped my battered briefcase onto a Windsor chair in the mudroom, shrugged out of my parka, and hung it on a hook. The air filled with the aroma of bubbling mozzarella cheese. Siegfried had already joined Mrs. Pierce at the old farm table in the kitchen, and painstakingly chopped an orange pepper for the big bowl of salad sitting before him. Johnny and Max were sprawled out on the linoleum before a pile of tinker toys that we’d dug out of the attic a week ago.
“Lasagna tonight, Professor,” said Mrs. Pierce in her singsong twitter.
“Smells great, Adelaide.” I walked over to ruffle Johnny’s hair. He concentrated on a creature made with tan sticks and green joiner pieces. Max’s tail thumped on the linoleum. He jumped up and stood on his hind legs with paws planted on my chest. I patted his sides briskly and rubbed behind his ears. Satisfied, he lay back down with his head on his paws. Only his eyes moved to follow my progress around the room.
Johnny tore himself away from his project to look up at me. “I makin’ a robot.”
I crouched down beside him and examined the creation. “Nice job, Johnny. I like it.”
I straightened and turned back to Mrs. Pierce. “Freddie won’t be back ‘til eight. She’s swamped tonight.”
Her kindly, weathered face pulled into a knot of concern. “That poor girl. She works so hard. Well,” she said, adding crumbled feta to the salad, “I’ll save her a nice plate for later.”
“She’ll be starving by then, thanks.” I nabbed a piece of feta cheese before she could catch me. “Do you need any help?”
“No, Siegfried's helping me finish up. I’ll just pop the garlic bread in when we're done with the salad. It should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll be back down in a few.” I climbed the worn, wooden stairs to the second floor and picked up the phone from the nightstand. Dialing the number I’d memorized years ago for the Conaroga Police Station, I sat in Elsbeth’s favorite wing chair by the window, and looked into the backyard. The low moon partially illuminated the snow-covered grounds. I picked out the outline of the vegetable garden and once again scanned the fields that lay beyond the fenced horse pasture.
“Conaroga Police Station. How may I help you?”
“Lieutenant Russell, please.”
“One moment.”
Russell came on the line almost immediately. “Russell,” he barked.
“Gus LeGarde, Joe. Glad I caught you.”
“Everything all right out at your place?”
“Yes, Officer Knapp is in place and everything’s quiet. I’m calling for a different reason altogether. It’s about my son-in-law’s partner, Bob Perkins. You know, the lawyer who’s missing?”
I went on to inform him about Siegfried’s contact with Bob Perkins the night before. He explained that the Rochester Police Department was handling the case, but he’d contact them and let them know what happened. He warned that they’d probably come out to question Siegfried in the morning, and he’d accompany them if they did.
We hung up, and I reached down to grab the Southern Tier White Pages. Flipping to the Conaroga listings, I looked up Coté. Maddy’s number was listed. Beneath it was a listing for C. Coté, on Twin Bridge Road. I dialed the number. A heavy pulse began to throb in my throat and my nerves bunched in my stomach.
“Hello?”
I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual. “Hi Camille. It’s Gus.”
A teakettle whistled in the background. She didn’t answer immediately, so I tried again.
“Gus LeGarde. From last night.”
“Of course, Gus, could you hold on one second?”
I waited for her to return.
“Okay, I’m back. I had to turn off the kettle. How are you?”
“Just fine. More importantly, how are you and Sadie making out? Joe Russell said she hadn’t spoken since last night?”
Camille sounded worried. “No. Not a word. Did Officer Russell mention—”
I rescued her, sensing her reluctance to ask for a favor. “I’d like to pay a visit to Sadie. Would that be okay?”
“Of course! I hoped you’d come.”
“I wanted to see how she was doing, anyway.”
“Good.” Relief poured from her voice. “I really think it will help her, Gus. She’s withdrawn right back into her shell, poor little thing. A child psychiatrist evaluated her this morning, and she said she’s reacting as any child would to a series of traumas. It’ll take time for her to recover. Time, and of course the reunion with her family when they locate them.”
I explained about our family’s involvement in the Perkins disappearance, and told her I expected tomorrow would be tied up with police interviews. I planned to take the morning off from school, but needed to be back at the university for a staff meeting at one o’clock. We finally agreed to meet at her house tomorrow after dinner, at seven. I hung up feeling energized, and rejoined the family in the kitchen.
Harold hadn’t returned from his law offices, per usual, so I quickly explained to Mrs. Pierce the news we’d heard about Bob Perkins. She raised her hand to her mouth and looked down at Johnny, who was still captivated with his tinker toys. She moved over toward the living room, whispering, “What in the world is happening out there, Professor? First, this awful Baxter character, and now Harold’s partner is missing? It feels like the whole world is falling apart.”
I patted her shoulder. “Try not to worry too much. We have protection outside, and Bob Perkins may just show up in a local hospital if his car ran off the road. I’m sure they’ll find him.”
Siegfried finished setting the table for four and we sat down to eat. The lasagna was smothered with bubbling mozzarella, filled with layers of ground beef and ricotta cheese. I dug into it ravenously and enjoyed the piquant flavors of spicy tomatoes, cheese, and parsley. The garlic bread was prepared from hunks of French bread Mrs. Pierce had made in her machine. She’d used real butter and had topped it with garlic powder and paprika.
Johnny chattered nonstop about his day, describing the pictures he drew, the walk he took with Mrs. Pierce to the mailbox, the red squirrel they saw, and the gingersnap cookies they made together.
Siegfried brightened. “Cookies?”
Mrs. Pierce turned to him and smiled, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, Siegfried. We made four dozen. I’ve put up a tin for you to take over to your apartment.”
He beamed at her. “Vielen Dank, Frau Pierce.”
I bit into the crusty bread and wondered about Baxter. Would his anger drive him to stick around and exact revenge? Or would self-preservation take over and make him scatter to the winds? I tried to put myself in his position, but found it impossible. How did one put themselves into the brain of a lunatic?
“Opa?” Johnny tugged on my shirt sleeve. “Will you play my dancin’ songs?”
From the whine in his voice, I figured he’d already asked me a few times. I pulled myself out of the reverie. “What? Oh! Sorry. Sure I will. Right after we finish up with dinner, buddy.”
He smiled. “Good.”
Our customary after-dinner music hour involved me playing piano and him twirling around the room.
He took a noisy drink of milk from his yellow Winnie the Pooh cup. “I like dancin’.”
When we’d worked our way halfway through the meal, Freddie arrived. She dropped her coat and bag in the mudroom and carried a plate of lasagna into the dining room to join us. Johnny slid down from his antique high chair and ran to her, hugging tightly onto one leg, making her totter under the force of his assault. She put the plate on the table and reached down to pick up her little boy.
