“You mean the calls supposedly made to them on the days they died?”
“Yes.”
Her lips tightened in anger. “That’s all Fenton.”
“What do you mean?”
“He claims to have found one of those prepaid phones in the drawer of Richard’s night table. But it’s a drawer Richard never used, and a phone he’d never seen before.”
“You’re suggesting that Fenton planted it?”
“He must have, mustn’t he?”
“It’s one possibility.”
“I don’t suppose he told you that Richard took a lie detector test—and passed?”
“No, he didn’t mention that.”
“Of course he didn’t! You see what he does? He only mentions things that look bad for Richard, and nothing that proves he’s innocent!”
Hammond looked like he’d been through all this before and was getting worn down by it. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask about?”
“He also brought up the subject matter of your doctoral thesis on voodoo.”
“Good Lord. What did he have to say about that?”
“He suggested it demonstrated your interest in using mind control to kill people.”
Jane threw her hands up in exasperation.
Gurney looked at Hammond. “Is it true your thesis related voodoo curses to hypnotism?”
“It was an objective analysis of the self-destructive mental states witch doctors create in their victims. I can give you a copy of the thesis, but I don’t see how it would help you.”
“Let’s leave the door open on that, in case it might be useful.”
“Fine. Anything else for now?”
“Just one last question. Was Ethan Gall gay?”
Hammond hesitated. “How is that relevant?”
“There seems to be a sexuality-related element buried somewhere in this case. I can’t say yet whether it’s relevant.”
“Ethan was too busy for the distractions of love. His energies were devoted entirely to the reformation of the world’s misbehaving souls.”
There was an edge in his tone that raised a question. Before Gurney had a chance to ask it, Hammond answered it.
“I admit I was interested in Ethan. But he wasn’t interested in me. Not in that way.”
There was a silence, broken by Jane. “Professionally, Ethan adored Richard. Absolutely adored him.”
“Professionally.” Hammond’s emphasis on the term pointedly underscored its boundaries.
PART TWO. THE BODY
CHAPTER 25
Gurney parked under the portico. His mind was shuttling back and forth between Hammond and Madeleine. The precise little man with a disconcerting interest in homicidal voodoo and eyes as bright and chilly as sapphires. Madeleine standing alone on a desolate dirt road gazing at the wreckage of a house where she’d spent Christmas vacations more than three decades ago.
He wanted to talk to Peyton Gall but suspected that getting any useful information from him would likely require more than a knock at his security gate. Figuring out the right approach was one more challenge Gurney added to his list as he entered the suite.
Half-imagining that Madeleine might still be in the tub, he was surprised to see her fully dressed, standing by the windows that looked out over the lake. He was equally surprised to see a fire blazing energetically in the hearth.
She turned toward him. “Steckle was here.”
“To start the fire?”
“And to ask what we wanted for lunch, and when we might be leaving for Vermont.”
“Did he say he wanted us to leave by any particular time?”
“No. But I got the impression he’d like it to be soon.”
“What did you tell him about lunch?”
“There were two choices. A cold salmon plate or a Cobb salad. I ordered one of each. You can have whichever you want. I’m not hungry.”
“He’s bringing it here to the room?”
As if in answer to his question, there was a knock at the door.
He went over and opened it.
Austen Steckle was standing there with a strained smile, holding a room-service tray with a silver dome. “Little late for lunch, folks, but better late than never, right?”
“Thank you.” Gurney reached for the tray.
“No, no, let me do it.” He stepped past Gurney without waiting for an answer, crossed the room, and set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the hearth. “Fire’s going good, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad about the weather. Supposed to get a lot worse. Blizzard coming down from Canada.”
Madeleine gave him a worried look. “When?”
“Hard to say. That’s the thing about these mountains. They’ve got their beauty, their wild appeal, you know, but then there’s the downside, the unknown, you know what I’m saying?”
“I’m not sure we do,” said Gurney.
“When it comes to the weather at Wolf Lake, there’s always some doubt. I know you folks need to get on to other places. Obviously you wouldn’t want to get snowed in for a week.”
What was obvious to Gurney was that the man wanted to be rid of them, and the reason probably had nothing to do with the weather. “I have a feeling that Fenton would like me out of here. You have that feeling, too?”
The interesting thing to Gurney about Steckle’s reaction was that, for a couple of seconds, he had none. When he did speak, it was in an almost confessional tone. “I didn’t want to mention it, since I figured you’d be on your way today, tomorrow at the latest. But I guess I should tell you. Investigator Fenton said that extending the hospitality of the lodge to you at a time when it was closed to regular guests could create the wrong impression.”
“What wrong impression?”
“That the Gall family was supporting your efforts to undermine his investigation.”
“Interesting.”
“He said I should be careful about aiding a person who might be charged with obstruction of justice. He said getting too close to you might not be a good thing for the lodge.”
There was thud in the fireplace as one log rolled off another. Gurney walked over to the hearth, picked up a poker, and started rearranging the logs. He wanted to take a moment to consider the hand he’d just been dealt.
He turned back to Steckle. “Sounds like an uncomfortable spot for you to be in. But the truth is I have no interest at all in undermining his investigation. The more I learn, the more I suspect he’s on the right track.”
That prompted a curious glance from Madeleine and a frown from Steckle. “Pretty big turnaround. I understood Jane hired you to prove Fenton was wrong.”
“That’s not the way I work. I just follow the facts.”
“Wherever they lead?”
“Absolutely.”
Steckle nodded slowly. “And you don’t think the facts favor the Hammonds?”
“Frankly, no. But getting back to the pressure you’re feeling from Fenton, are you saying I should leave the lodge and drop the case?”
Steckle raised his palms in objection. “Not at all. I’m just being honest with you about the pressure. I just want this shit to be over with.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Good.” He looked at Madeleine. “You understand what I’m saying, right?”
“Oh, yes. Perfectly. We all want this to be over with.”
“Good. Great.” He showed his teeth in something resembling a smile and pointed to the silver dome on the tray. “Enjoy your lunch.”
AFTER STECKLE LEFT, GURNEY LOCKED THE DOOR. MADELEINE stood by the fire, looking uneasy.
“Can we check on the weather?” she asked.
“Steckle may be exaggerating the problem to get rid of us.”
“Can we check on it anyway?”