“No.”
“He’s killed twice; the kid in Iowa, and then Carolina.”
Suddenly I felt like I’d been carrying bricks. I dropped back into the overstuffed chair. “Yes.”
Leo started up his pencil, waiting.
“Reynolds said the sheriff probably hasn’t done much investigating,” I said after a minute. “They’ll be interested now. I can show them motive and point them to a zip code in Iowa.”
“Slam dunk,” Leo said.
“Slam dunk for sure,” I said.
I had to call a couple of counties before I got the sheriff’s department that oversaw Rambling. A woman named Budzinski answered after I followed the required number of tape-recorded instructions.
“How would I find out who’s working on an investigation of a killing in Rambling?”
She paused half a beat. “Rambling, Michigan?”
“That’s the place. Happened a month, maybe six weeks ago, on County Road 12.”
“Give me the deceased’s name and I’ll have someone call you back.”
“Her name was either Louise Thomas or Carolina Dare.”
“Same woman?”
“I think the Louise Thomas name was an alias. Your people thought the killing was the result of a home invasion gone bad. I’ve got evidence that points to premeditated murder.”
“Your interest?”
“I’m the executor of the deceased’s estate.”
“And you’re not sure of her name?”
“I don’t even know how she knew mine.”
“I’ll have whoever’s in charge call you,” she said and hung up.
A lieutenant named Dillard did, in thirty minutes. “Give me those names again.”
“Louise Thomas and Carolina Dare.”
“We’ve got nothing under investigation for either of those names.”
“It’s probably the state police, then.”
“No, it would be us,” Dillard said slowly, sounding like he wished he could submit me to a Breathalyzer exam. “Are you sure about the town, and the names?”
“She left a will with a lawyer in West Haven, signed as Louise Thomas. He called me, said she’d named me her executor. The lawyer gave me her keys, which fit a house in Rambling, a house with blood spots in it. Both the lawyer and a local watchman say they got messages from your office, advising them of the death. Now I’ve received an envelope that might contain significant clues about it.”
“Before I called you back, I checked all the state’s databases, every municipality, every county. There’s been no reported death of a Louise Thomas or a Carolina Dare.”
“Any dead Jane Does in the Rambling area?”
“No unknowns in that area for years,” he said.
I stared at the turret’s limestone walls. A minute passed.
“Mr. Elstrom?”
“Do you want the envelope I’ve come across?”
“What’s in it?”
“Some letters from a frightened child in Cedar Ridge, Iowa, a few newspaper columns, and a very big threat from the killer.” Listening to myself, I realized I was coming across loud and stupid.
“The crime is murder?” he said.
“Of course.”
Dillard sighed. “And the victim is?”
“Carolina Dare.”
“Or Louise Thomas?”
“Of course.”
Dillard breathed into the phone.
“There might have been another murder victim,” I went on. “That kid in Cedar Ridge who wrote the letters.”
“What’s the name of the kid?”
“I don’t know.”
“Boy or girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mr. Elstrom, what do you know?”
“That this information might point to the killer.”
“You mean for a murder for which there’s no body, or other evidence?”
“I told you, there is evidence: blood spots in a cottage.”
“How much blood?”
“A dozen spots, maybe more.”
“About the amount you’d get from a cut on a finger?”
“Sure, but…” I let the question fade.
He waited.
“Can I file a missing persons report?” I asked.
“Sure.” He paused, like he was signaling a drummer in a clown act to pick up his sticks. Then, “Who’s missing?”
I could almost hear the drum-and the laughter.
Fourteen
This time Reynolds returned my call. In two minutes.
He sounded out of breath. “What do you mean, no body?”
“Who saw the body?”
“I saw the blood, same as you.”
“Did you speak to anybody who saw the body?”
“I told you: I didn’t speak to anybody at all. I got a message saying there’d been a death from a home invasion on 12. The place was locked up, but the windows were busted out. I was supposed to keep an eye out when I passed by.”
“Who called?”
“The county, I thought. Except now you’re telling me they don’t know anything? Maybe it was the state. That would explain the runaround I’ve been getting from the sheriff’s office.”
“Forget the state. According to a guy named Dillard at the sheriff’s office, nobody has a record of any death of a Louise Thomas, a Carolina Dare, or a Jane Doe in Rambling.”
“This is bullshit. I’ll call you back.”
“I’ve got new information.”
“About that key?”
“That’s turning out to be a dead end. But Carolina mailed letters to herself that point to her killer.”
“How?”
“A kid wrote to the advice column, saying his or her stepfather was involved in a bank robbery in Iowa. Then the kid quit writing, and Carolina started receiving threatening letters, presumably from the stepfather.”
“Saying what?”
“Saying, ‘Return what’s not yours.’“
“The kid had sent something to your columnist?”
“I think so.”
Reynolds took a minute to let it all settle into place, then asked, “Like what?”
“Like the money from the robbery, or perhaps just proof that the stepfather pulled the job. I’m leaning toward the money, though.”
“You told the county all this?”
“I tried, but Dillard said without a body, or proof of a crime, there’s nothing he can do. I’m going to take a run at the cops in Iowa, but I want you to lean on Dillard.”
“I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up.
I called Aggert.
“Elstrom,” he said, “I’d given up on you.”
“Where’d you get the keys to the house in Rambling?”
“Speaking of keys, how’s it going?”
“You’ll be the first to hear. Where did you get the house and car keys?”
“The police.”
“Which police?”
“I presumed it was the county sheriff. I got a message, telling me about Louise’s-excuse me, Carolina’s-death and saying they’d found one of my cards at her place. They dropped off the keys in an envelope, after hours. Is there some question about jurisdiction?”
“Was it a man’s voice or a woman’s on your answering machine?”
“A woman’s, I think. What’s going on?”
“The county sheriff’s office knows nothing about any death in Rambling.”
“They must.”
“They don’t. The security guy out in Rambling is on the phone with them right now, trying to get them interested in what’s going on. We’ve got new information.”
“What new information?”
“Carolina mailed herself a few letters, something about a crime.”
“What crime?”
I paused as a thought flickered and then raged into full fire inside my head.
“I’ll tell you when I know,” I said.
Reynolds called back an hour after I hung up with Aggert.
“I talked to the county sheriff’s office,” he said. “Then I called the state police.”
The tone of his voice had already said enough, so I waited.
“Nobody knows anything about a death in Rambling,” he finished.
“Was it a man who called you?”
“Is that important?”