I breathed in deeply, as much to catch my breath from all the talking I’d just done as to heave a sigh of relief. I was pretty sure I’d convinced him not to turn me into the authorities…or to preserve me as Moose River’s notorious murderer.
“I assume you know about his wife, then?” Elliot asked.
I nodded. “Helen. Yes. The divorce.”
Something flashed through his eye. “How much do you know about that?”
I shrugged. “We didn’t talk much about it on our date. But since the incident…well, I’ve talked to his sister. And to Helen.”
“And what did you find out?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Olga told me one thing and Helen sort of sang a different tune, if you know what I mean.” I adjusted my purse strap on my shoulder. “I just…I’d like to know what happened. Seeing as how Olaf was found in my coal chute.”
Elliot motioned toward the rockers positioned near the wood stove. “Sit,” he ordered. He moved away from the counter and stopped at the table with the coffee carafe. “You want a cup?”
“Sure,” I said. I sank into one of the rockers and stripped off my jacket. A cup of hot coffee was the last thing I wanted but I didn’t want to jeopardize whatever conversation Elliott was planning to have with me. My face was already flushed from conversation and I was about ten seconds away from roasting to death, now that I was sitting next to the fire.
He handed me a styrofoam cup and dropped his burly frame into the chair next to me. “Don’t believe a word Helen says.”
Straight and to the point. I was figuring out already that this was the way Elliott Cornelius was used to communicating.
“Okay,” I said. I blew on the coffee before taking a sip and it still burned my tongue. “Why is that?”
He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, seemingly oblivious to the searing temperature. “Because she lies.”
“You know her well?”
Elliott nodded. “I know her well enough.”
“Can you…elaborate?”
He crossed one leg over the other, his booted foot resting on his knee. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I admitted. “Anything that will help me figure out why Olaf was found in my coal chute. I honestly don’t know a thing about him—well, other than what I knew from our one date a couple of years ago. We didn’t run into each other in town. I’d actually forgotten he lived here.”
“It’s not that big of a town,” he remarked, his one eye assessing me in that unnerving way he had.
“I know,” I said. I tried another sip of coffee. “But I just keep to my own people, you know?” I didn’t want to say that my kids didn’t do school and I didn’t do church.
“I know,” he said, nodding. “I’m a bit of a loner, myself.”
I smiled, hoping he believed I was a kindred spirit.
“Alright. Everything.” Elliott sighed and rubbed at his chin. “I guess I’ll just tell you what I know. You can figure out what to do with it.”
I leaned forward and offered an encouraging smile.
“Olaf was upfront about what was going on in his personal life. Assured me that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his work here.” He paused. “I appreciated his honesty, told him I was sorry about it. Divorce isn’t fun.”
I nodded in agreement. It sounded as if Elliott was speaking from experience but I didn’t want to pepper him with more questions.
“Things were alright for a few months. But it eventually got in the way of his work.”
“What got in the way?”
“He started showing up late. Getting phone calls while he was here in the shop.” He grimaced. “Once the divorce was finalized, I thought things might settle down, get back to normal. Olaf was a good employee and he did work that a lot of folks couldn’t handle.”
I nodded again. I wasn’t sure I knew anyone who would willingly scrape roadkill off the highway, even if it paid well. And, from what Olga had said about Helen riding Olaf’s gravy train, I had to believe that Elliott did compensate him well.
“But, it didn’t,” he said. With his free hand, he played with the laces on his boot. “There were some quiet months when things were back to normal. But then the phone calls started again. And then the visits.”
“The visits?”
“Helen,” he told me. “She started popping in while he was here.”
“Here in the shop? Why?”
“At first, it was to bring by papers,” Elliott said, closing his eye in concentration. “Some addendum or something to the divorce. There were a bunch of those. And then she’d swing by with questions about the house; she’d gotten that as part of the divorce settlement. Olaf was polite but distant.” He opened his eye and looked at me. “He was a good man.”
“It sounds like it,” I said. “So, did she finally get the hint?”
He was silent for a minute. “Yes.”
“And so she left? Just decided to leave him alone? Stopped coming by?” This didn’t line up with what Olga had told me. According to Olaf’s sister, persistence was Helen’s middle name.
“Yes and no,” Elliott said, his expression morphing. He looked uncomfortable, like he was sitting on a bed of nails.
“I’m not following…”
He uncrossed his leg and stood up. “That’s all I know.”
I stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
His mouth twisted into a frown. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth. And I didn’t have to tell you anything.”
I held up a hand in apology. “I know. I’m sorry.” I swallowed and looked at him. “But if there’s anything else, no matter how small of a detail you might think it is, I’d appreciate it if you could tell me.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” he finally muttered.
“Excuse me?”
He walked over to the table and poured himself more coffee. “I have a soft spot for pretty women.”
I didn’t know how to respond to this admission so I said nothing, just sat and fidgeted in the rocker and waited for him to return to his seat.
“Helen stopped coming to see Olaf,” he said, adjusting himself back in his chair. He crossed the other leg on to his lap.
“Okay.”
“She started coming to see me.”
TWENTY SIX
“You?”
Elliott nodded.
Now that was interesting. And weird. “Why?”
“At first, I thought it was to make Olaf jealous,” he said. He ran his thumb along the rim of his cup. “But then it…changed.”
I sat up a little straighter. “How?”
“She kept coming by.” He paused, then cleared his throat. I glanced at him and his ruddy cheeks had taken on a deeper red color. “But she came by to see me.”
“You?” I repeated, my voice squeaking a little on the single word.
He nodded. “Hard to believe. But true.”
“I didn’t mean— ” I began, flustered.
Elliott held up his free hand. “No need to explain. The women aren’t exactly lining up for me.”
I thought it would be insulting to argue with his statement, and just as rude to agree, so I simply nodded and kept my mouth shut.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding like a balloon, then deflating when he exhaled. “I guess you could say she was flirting with me. Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve played the game but I was young once.”
“That must’ve been…awkward. For both you and Olaf.”
“Yes.”
“Did that cause problems?”
“For Olaf?” Elliott shook his head. “No.”
I took a sip of my coffee. It was now lukewarm and I tried not to make a face as I swallowed it down. “For…you?”
“It was uncomfortable,” he said. “Her attention. Helen can be a bit…forward.”
I thought back to my encounters with her and what Olga had told me. She was definitely an in-your-face kind of person. I could only guess how she would interact with the opposite sex.
“Anyway, I nipped it in the bud,” Elliott told me. His ankle bounced on his knee and he kept his gaze fixed on one of the deer mounted on the wall.