Текст книги "The Murder Pit"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

TWENTY TWO

Helen folded her arms across her expensive-looking sweater and glared at me. “Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here.”

I was surprised by her aggressive tone. It was the exact opposite of how she’d come across in the library.

“I was a little surprised to see you here, too,” I said.

“Oh. Were you?” she said, tilting her head to the side, studying me. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think it’s become pretty clear that you are stalking me,” Helen declared.

“What are you talking about?”

“Running into me at the library the other day?” she said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Now here? At the recycling plant of all places. Did you think I wouldn’t see you?” She shook her head. “Please.”

I started to say something, stopped, took a deep breath, then started again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “You came up to me at the library. And today I’m here with my kids. And my husband works here.”

She smirked. “Sure he does.”

“He does,” I insisted, preparing to launch his full CV at her. But then I stopped myself. I didn’t need to defend anything to the woman standing in front of me. “Besides, if anyone around here is lying, it’s you. You lied about working at the library.”

Her mouth twitched and she averted her gaze, examining her nails instead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” I asked. I moved closer to her. “I went to the desk after you disappeared. I asked them to find you. And they told me you didn’t work there.”

She was still focused on her nails. “You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not,” I said. “So you must be lying.”

She moved her gaze from the lacquered nails to my eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Nor does you following me to a trash plant.”

I bristled. “It’s a recycling plant.”

“Whatever,” she said. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Why are you here bothering me?”

I pressed my lips together and clenched my hands into tight fists to keep myself from strangling this nutjob. “I’m here with my kids and their friends because my husband—who works here—invited us to come tour the plant. I’ve now explained that to you twice. Why exactly are you here?”

She considered my words, then shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I work part-time at the elementary school, They needed a chaperone for today.”

That was the first thing that had come out of her mouth that made any sense at all.

“Hey, Mom!” Grace yelled, popping her head around the corner. “Come here!”

“Hang on,” I said to her. I turned back to Helen. “What do you do at the school?”

“I help in the attendance office,” she said, lifting her chin as if she was royalty. “Again, not that it’s any of your business.”

“I wasn’t aware you worked,” I said.

“You probably aren’t aware of a lot of things,” she said, glaring at me.

It was like she had become her evil twin from our library meeting. She’d been overly kind and friendly there. Now, she was looking at me like she wanted to push me into one of the bins. Emily was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for her lit class and I wished she were there so she could see a real-life reenactment of someone with dual personalities. Because I was pretty sure that was what I was witnessing.

“Mom!” Grace yelled again. “Come here!”

“Hang on!” I called. I stared at Helen. “I know that you didn’t really want a divorce from Olaf.”

Her eyes morphed into daggers. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that not only did you lie to me about working in the library, you also lied to me about Olaf not wanting the divorce,” I said, returning her glare. “You were the one who didn’t want the divorce.”

“Daisy!” Sophie yelled.

“You better take that back,” Helen growled.

“I don’t think I will,” I said.

“Olaf loved me,” she said, her voice low and thick. “Loved me. He was devastated when I told him I wanted a divorce. He begged me to take him back. Begged me.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, that’s not what I heard.”

“Oh, I’m sure that fat cow Olga had a lot of great things to say,” she spat. “I’ll bet everything she told you was a big fat lie because she’s a big, fat, lying cow.”

“Mom!” Will’s voice chimed in with the others and I could hear the urgency in his voice. “You better come!”

I ignored him. “You followed me to Olga’s,” I said, pointing a finger at her.

Helen’s face colored. “What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” I said. “How else would you have known I spoke to her? You really are stalking me.”

“You’re wrong,” she said primly. “But you better know one thing. I asked for the divorce. Plain and simple. Olaf loved me and begged me to stay.” She leaned toward me and her eyes were so wide, they practically bugged out of her head. “Begged me.”

Grace appeared by my side, just visible in my peripheral vision. “Mom, can I keep him?”

Helen glanced at her like she was a piece of trash that had drifted off the pile. She sniffed and turned back to me. “And you better stop following me or you’ll be sorry.”

“You’re insane,” I said. “I’m not following—”

“Mom,” Grace said, tugging at the back of my coat. “I want to keep him.”

I whirled around, completely out of sorts by the conversation with Helen and by the kids all screaming at me.

Grace held up her hands, her face beaming. Something small and dirty squirmed in her clutches. “Can I keep him?”

It looked like a mouse.

“Dear God,” I muttered. “Hold on.”

I whirled back around to let Helen know I wasn’t going take any more of her crap and that if I caught her around me again, I was going to call the police.

But she was long gone.

TWENTY THREE

“I think it’s actually a hamster,” I said to Grace, crouching down and inspecting the small creature cradled in her hands.

“Even better!” she said, her eyes growing wider. “Can we keep it?”

Jake stuck his head around the corner and Sophie and Will burst ahead of him, running toward us.

“Can we keep him?” Sophie asked. Her hard hat hung drunkenly off her head and she shifted it back into position.

“Can we keep what?” Jake asked.

Will wrinkled his nose. “The rat Grace found.”

“The rat?” Jake asked, looking at Grace’s hands. His face paled a little. “How did you get your hands on a rat?”

“Mom was yelling at that lady,” Will said.

I glared at him. “I was not yelling at anyone.”

Jake turned to look at me. “Who were you not yelling at?”

“No one.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So you were talking to yourself?”

“Can we please keep him?” Grace pleaded. “Please?”

“Go find a box,” I said to the three kids. I pried the small animal out of Grace’s hands. “Like a shoebox.”

Will stared at me blankly. “This isn’t a shoe store, Mom.”

I waved my animal-filled hand in frustration. “There are mountains of trash as big as Mt. Everest out there. I’m sure you can find a small container to house this creature.”

“We’re not allowed out on the floor,” Sophie reminded me.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, frustrated. “Go find a mug in the workroom. A copy paper box in the copy room. Just find something!”

They all looked at each other and took off. Brenda was standing a few feet away with her kids and they took off running after mine.

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “I’m not even going to ask…”

I nodded gratefully.

“How did she pick up a rat?” Jake asked.

“It’s a hamster,” I said, inspecting the ball of fur in my hands. “And I was…otherwise occupied.”

“With?”

“With Helen Stunderson,” I said.

He thought for a moment. “The woman from the library?  The dead guy’s ex?”

“Yes,” I said. Jake’s expression darkened and I quickly explained how she showed up out of nowhere.

A look of relief washed over his face. “Okay,” he said. “So she works for the school.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” I asked. “That she showed up here the same day as me?”

“Not if she, you know, works for the school.”

“And she knew about me talking to Olga yesterday,” I said, nudging him with my leg. “Don’t you find that the least bit problematic?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know, Daisy. But, jeez. I told you to let it go and let the police do their job. Or look into getting your private eye license.”

I straightened. “You didn’t tell me that was an option.”

“Because it’s not,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Because, you know, kids.”

On cue, they came running back. Sophie was holding the bottom of a copy paper box and Grace was holding the lid. Derek was trailing after them, tears running down his beet-red face, shrieking, “Mine! Mine!”

“This was the only one we could find,” Will said, his cheeks red from exertion. He huffed and puffed a little. “We got it out of your office, Jake.

“Sophie found it,” Grace said. “Not you.”

“Whatever,” he said.

Derek tried to rip the box out of Sophie’s hands but Brenda swooped in. “Not quite sure why he has a box fetish,” she said, wrangling the toddler with a cowboy’s expertise.

“Probably because he’s two,” I told her.

Jake leaned down and looked into my hands. “We are not taking a rat home.”

I held it up and he shrank back. “I told you,” I said. “It’s a hamster.”

“Whatever it is,” Jake said. “We don’t need to bring it home. I like our home rabies free.”

“Hamsters don’t carry rabies,” I said, taking the box from Sophie. I set it down on the ground and gently placed the hamster inside. Grace was ready with the lid and squashed it on top of the box. “Besides, if we leave him here, you guys will recycle him or something.”

“No,” Jake said, shaking his head. “He’ll live in the trash with the other rodents until they get flushed out of here by trucks and loud noises.”

The kids crowded around the box and Will lifted the lid. I hovered over them, trying to get a good view. The little hamster was gray with brown spots and he scurried about, investigating all four corners of the box, his tail and whiskers twitching with every movement.

The kids giggled and a smile blossomed on my face, too. I turned to Jake, who was waiting with a look of resignation.

“We’re keeping him.”

He sighed. “Of course we are.”

“I’m glad you see it my way.”

“Don’t I always?” he asked, shaking his head. “But I’ll tell you one thing.”

“What’s that?”

He smiled at me. “If you end up in jail because of your new found investigating hobby, I’m not feeding that thing.”

TWENTY FOUR

We finished the field trip at the recycling plant without incident and made it home in time for lunch. I cooked up a plateful of quesadillas and the kids wolfed them down, anxious to go play with their new pet and to decide on a name.

As I did the dishes, I couldn’t help but think about Helen and our confrontation. I was getting two distinctly different points of view from both her and Olga. I tended to believe Olga because, despite the clowns, she’d come off as the more rational of the two. But I didn’t really know either of them. As I rinsed off the last of the glasses and set them in the strainer, I decided I needed to know more about the one person that actually mattered.

Olaf.

I toweled off my hands, laid the towel on the sink to dry and plopped down on the couch with my laptop.

The truth was that I remembered very little about Olaf. I remembered that he was nice and that we had decent conversation over dinner. He was polite, with a good sense of humor. But I couldn’t recall many details about his life. That made me feel bad, like I hadn’t really participated when we’d gone to dinner and I wondered if maybe I hadn’t really engaged. Not that it would’ve changed anything, but maybe I hadn’t paid as much attention to him as I should’ve.

I pulled up the Around The Corner dating website. I hadn’t been on it since the night I’d accepted Olaf’s invitation. I’d set it up with my usual email address and a simple password, so it was easy to get back into my account. It was strange to see the picture I’d posted of myself and to see the words I’d written to describe myself. I’d been so unhappy at the time and it felt like I was looking at a different person. I was grateful for Jake and the turn for the better my life had taken.

I scrolled through my messages and shuddered. There were so many messages from random men that were just flat-out creepy. I remembered reading them the first time and just shaking my head, disbelieving that I was back in the dating pool. They were rude, they were arrogant and they were thoughtless. Olaf’s message was the first one that came through that sounded like he had both a brain and respect for women. It was why I’d responded to him and no one else.

I clicked on his profile pic, a shot of him smiling and holding a can of soda. His page came up, revealing a larger sized profile pic and his little caption about himself, as well as all of his likes and dislikes in a bunch of different categories.

He liked animals, dessert and the occasional beer.

He disliked liars, vegetables and white wine.

And he worked for a taxidermist.

That finally rang a bell for me. I remembered him telling me that he worked for a local taxidermist and that one of his on-call jobs was to collect animals that had been injured and killed on roads. He brought the ‘clean kills’ to the taxidermist for preserving but dropped the others off at a local wolf sanctuary for…consumption. I thought his job was at odds with his stated love of animals, but he’d told me at dinner that he looked at it as just the opposite. He liked animals—all animals—so delivering carcasses to the wolf sanctuary provided much needed food for the animals that lived there. The ones he was able to bring back for preservation were an added bonus, he’d said. What better way to honor an animal than preserve it in the afterlife, to display at nature centers and in homes for people to appreciate and enjoy. I remembered thinking that was a nice way to look at the untimely death of animals.

I looked through more of the information on his page, but didn’t find much that told me anything significant about him. I returned to the main page with his job information and stared at it for a minute.

Then I opened up another tab and started looking for a taxidermist in Moose River.

One popped up immediately.

Stuff It.

How appropriate.

I clicked on the link for Stuff It’s website. It was a bare bones. single page site that showed the address, the times they were open and a giant picture of a deer head. There was no email contact or phone number. It looked like it had been thrown together in about five minutes. I was pretty sure Will could’ve put together a more elaborate site.

My instinct was to jump in the car and drive across town to Stuff It. But Jake had specifically asked me to stop playing amateur detective. And I was home and I needed to do more laundry and figure out what we were having for dinner.

Stuff It was going to have to wait.

I closed the laptop and dove back into the world of running a family and home. I got the laundry done. I took chicken out for dinner. I made bread in the bread machine. I played Twister with the girls and nearly threw my back out. I chatted with Emily when she came home from school about her math test. By the time Jake walked in the door, I felt like the epitome of a domestic goddess.

“Smells good,” he said, dropping his keys on the shelf in the kitchen. He kicked off his boots and joined me at the stove. Not to peer into the pots simmering on the stovetop but to put his hands over the rising steam, warming them.

“Hopefully, it tastes good, too,” I said. I turned around and kissed him lightly on the mouth. His stubble rubbed my cheek.

“As long as you tell me we aren’t eating that hamster for dinner, I’ll be excited.”

“I thought you’d like hamster on a stick,” I told him.

“I would not.”

“Then you’re safe,” I said. “Chicken, rice, veggies and homemade bread.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’m gonna jump in the shower before we eat.”

The shower kicked on and when I heard it shut off a few minutes later, I started getting the food together. I sliced the loaf of bread and transferred the rice and vegetables into serving bowls. Emily appeared and, unasked, help bring food to the table. I wondered what favor she needed. I called up to the other kids and told them to hurry down. I was pulling cups from the cupboard when Jake strolled back in, laptop in hand. He’d donned track pants and a long-sleeved Notre Dame t-shirt and he smelled all after-shavy and looked all athletic and all I wanted to do was snuggle up next to him and breathe him in.

“So, what’s this?” he said, holding up the computer.

I spread the cups out on the counter. “The laptop?”

“Funny,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I mean the website you left up. I went to check my email.”

I pulled the water pitcher from the fridge. “Oh, I can explain. Stuff It is a taxidermist here in town. I know you told me not to—”

“I’m not talking about a taxidermist,” he said and thrust the laptop at me. “I’m talking about this.”

I looked at the screen.

Which currently displayed the home page for Around The Corner.

Blood rushed to my face. “Because I had to look up Olaf to find the taxidermist.”

“So you weren’t trolling for more dates?” he asked, arching his eyebrow.

“Oh, please.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me about the date with Olaf,” he said, shrugging. “So how do I know?”

Emily made a noise. “This is getting awkward.”

Jake grinned. “Just wait until it’s your dates we’re discussing.”

Her cheeks reddened and she darted out of the kitchen.

Jake closed the laptop and set it on the counter. “Just tell me why. Why did you feel the need to look up Olaf and his job at a taxidermy shop?”

I thought back to the conversation we’d had at the recycling plant and the fact that my husband was absolutely not on board with my investigating. “Um, well—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said.“You aren’t going to listen to me are you?”

I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It’s not that I don’t listen. I absolutely hear you.”

His arms encircled my waist. “You just disregard everything I say.”

“Not everything.”

“Mmhmm.”

I laid my hands on his chest. “Look. I’m just poking around. Nothing to worry about. But this Helen woman has totally invaded my space and I want to know why. I won’t do anything dumb and I won’t do anything dangerous. But I want to know who’s telling the truth.”

He made a face at me. “And if I ask you not to, you’ll conveniently ignore me, correct?”

“I’d never ignore you,” I said truthfully. “But I might selectively remember what you asked.”

He fought back a smile. “Selectively remember. That’s a good one.”

“Right? I thought so.”

He sighed. “Fine. I give up. But stay off the damn dating websites. Please.”

I held up my hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Fine,” I said, smiling at him. “Sex goddess’ honor.”

TWENTY FIVE

The kids were out early the next morning, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather to try their hand at building their own bobsled track in the backyard. The daytime temperatures were finally in the twenties which meant death by frostbite wasn’t imminent. They had shovels and boxes and an assortment of other tools they’d pulled out of the garage, and after nearly two hours, they were screaming and laughing as they took the sleds down their own hilly, curvy course that ended with each of them plowing feet first into a snowbank.

I watched from the kitchen window, coffee in my hands. I was sure a lot of people wouldn’t be able to fathom how this was in any way comparable to school. In fact, some of my biggest opponents to keeping the kids home had been members of my own extended family. But I looked out that window and I saw kids learning how to communicate and work together as they explored concepts of physics and engineering in a real-life situation. They were driven to make that bobsled track work and, by the process of trial and error—and scientific principles they probably couldn’t identify but were still using—they were making it work.

By lunchtime, they were cold, wet and exhausted. They stripped out of their wet clothes and boots and huddled under blankets while I I made a plate of peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. After devouring these and a bowl full of grapes, they settled on the couch and love seat and started watching Frozen. It was a fitting choice.

I cleaned up the lunch dishes and poked my head back into the living room. Each of them had a blanket pulled up to their chin, their eyes glued to the screen. An idea blossomed.

“I have errands to run,” I told them. “Anyone want to come with?”

They barely lifted their eyes from the screen, shaking their heads no. I smiled. Just what I’d hoped.

I grabbed my own winter gear, bundled up and, blowing kisses to all three, headed out the door. I didn’t really have errands I needed to run. But I had decided a visit to Stuff It was in order

The shop was on the western edge of town, in a nearly abandoned stretch of buildings on a snow covered lot. Three shops had For Lease signs in the window. The fourth building was a small log cabin with a giant moose head on the roof and a sign in the front that read:

Stuff It – For All Your Taxidermy Needs

Were there taxidermy needs other than getting an animal stuffed?

I wasn’t sure, but I parked the car and headed inside to find out.

I pushed open the cabin door and a bell jingled, signaling my arrival. It looked remarkably like a lobby at one of the up north resorts, with its knotted pine interior and warm, ambient lighting. The honey-colored pine was everywhere: the walls, the long wooden counter, the rocking chairs strategically placed around a small, black wood stove. Just to the right of the counter, a small table housed a thermos of coffee and a domed plate filled with large, bakery-style cookies.

It would have been easy to grab a cup of coffee and a cookie and relax by the warmth of the wood stove if it hadn’t been for the dozens of dead animals staring down at me from shelves throughout the room. Moose. Deer. Racoons. Squirrels. Wolves. If it lived in Minnesota, I was pretty sure their dead counterpart was mounted on one of the walls inside Stuff It.

There was a small metal bell on the counter and I tapped it once, the ring echoing in the room. Footsteps shuffled on the floor from the wall behind the counter and a man in his fifties wearing a long sleeved red wool shirt over a black T-shirt stepped into the room. He had on a baseball cap and an eyepatch over his left eye. He towered over both me and the counter.

He lifted the brim of his cap. “Help you, ma’am?” His voice was low and gruff.

“Um, yes,” I said, still unsure of how I was approaching this. “Hello.”

He nodded. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

I looked around the room. “You have a lot of animals in here.”

“Yes.”

I squirmed a little. His stoicism was unnerving.

“You do a good job,” I told him, hoping I sounded sincere. I wouldn’t know a well-stuffed animal from a bad one, but from the looks of the animals surrounding me, these appeared to be lifelike and realistic.

His visible eye lit up. “I can take care of nearly any animal you bring me.”

“Is that so?” I glanced around the room, studying the animals. “I don’t see any domestic animals. Do you focus on wildlife?”

“Primarily,” he said. “But I do house pets, too. A lady brought in her cat last week.”

I didn’t know if it was the heat from the stove or the fact that we were talking about stuffing house pets, but I suddenly felt warm. I unzipped my jacket.

“A cat, huh?” I said.

He nodded. “She wanted him curled up like he was sleeping. So she could move him from room to room.”

His tone was matter-of-fact but I thought I saw something flash in his eye that signaled he didn’t think it was a good idea. I had no experience with stuffed, dead animals but I couldn’t image why anyone would want to carry their dead cat around.

“Anyway,” he said, bracing his hands on the counter. He stared at me with his one good eye. “What can I do for you?”

I swallowed. Standing in an empty taxidermy shop to ask questions about a deceased employee suddenly didn’t feel like such a good idea.

“Did you bring an animal in?” the man asked, leaning over the counter to inspect the floor.

“No, no,” I said shaking my head. “Nothing like that. I just came in because…because I have some questions.”

“About taxidermy?” he asked, raising the eyebrow over the eyepatch.

“Not really,” I admitted. “I actually have some questions about one of your employees.”

His mouth tightened. “Who are you?”

“Daisy,” I said. “Daisy Savage. I live here in town.”

“Daisy Savage.” He lifted a hand and rubbed his chin, thinking. “Alright.”

I didn’t know if he was just stating a fact or if he was accusing me of lying.

“I moved here several years ago,” I told him. “From Atlanta. My husband works at the recycling plant. Jake Gardner.”

His expression changed. “Jake?”

I nodded, puzzled. How on earth did Jake know the taxidermy man? He hadn’t said anything when the web site was opened on the laptop the previous evening. “You know Jake?”

“I know of Jake,” he corrected. “Mutual friends.”

“And you are…?” I asked.

A small smile appeared, the first one I’d seen since he’d walked out from the back room. “Elliott. Elliott Cornelius.”

He extended his hand and we shook. His hand was rough and calloused, and it absolutely felt like he’d spent his entire life pulling animals apart and putting them back together.

“Actually, I’m here because of Olaf Stunderson,” I told him.”

His smile flickered and died. “Ah. Olaf. Alright.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I heard he passed away. Was sorry to hear that.”

“Yes.” I was glad I’d chosen honesty as my approach as opposed to something else that probably would’ve gone awry.  “I understand he worked here?”

Elliott nodded slowly and set his large hands back on the counter. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

“For a long time?”

He kept his head lowered. “Couple years,” he answered.

I nodded, staring at his hands. What else was I supposed to ask him? He’d just confirmed Olaf had worked there and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. I don’t know what I’d expected from my visit to the taxidermy shop but, whatever it was, this wasn’t it.

Elliott lifted his head and stared at me with his good eye. “Are you a friend of his?”

I hesitated. “I was, yes.”

Which was, technically, the truth. We’d gone out on a date, hadn’t we?

“Then why did they find his body in your house?” Elliot’s voice suddenly had an edge to it.

I felt my cheeks color and my heart jump. Maybe he was more familiar with me than he was letting on. “I don’t know. That’s sort of why I’m here.”

He lifted his eyebrows and waited. I drew in a shaky breath and explained to him what happened. He tapped his fingers on the counter while I talked, his face devoid of expression.

“So, you didn’t do it?” he asked.

I shook my head vigorously. “No. Of course not!”

He chewed on his lower lip, his good eyes assessing me. “I believe you.”

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.”