Deer Season (19 page)

“And?”

“You don’t know my husband?” she said looking at Ray.

“No, I don’t. I’ve seen him on air, but I’ve never met him.”

“Well,” she said, her mood shifting from sadness to anger. “Biff likes the good life. This isn’t the kind of place he would stay. It’s a mom and pop operation. He wouldn’t be caught dead there unless…” her voice trailed off.

“Unless…,” Ray repeated.

“It’s a no-tell motel. He and Lynne were meeting there. A place far enough away that no one would probably notice them.”

“So how did you find out that it was Lynne?” Ray asked.

“The day after I found the American Express bill, after the kids were on the school bus, I confronted him. He was sitting at the breakfast table, and I handed him the bill and asked him why was he renting a motel room in Grayling on Wednesdays. He always comes home at night, this must have been in the morning or afternoon.”

“And his response?”

“First he got really angry at me, he was shouting at me for going through his office. Then he calmed down a bit and said one of his friends was having an affair, and he was letting the guy charge the room to his account so his wife wouldn’t find out. So I asked him why didn’t his friend use cash, he couldn’t answer that. Then I confronted him with the charge slip I found in his suit pocket.”

With a bitter smile she continued. “He knew then I had him. So he confessed. He said Lynne had been going through some bad times in her marriage, and he was spending time with her so she could talk things out. He gave me this incredible story about how nothing was really going on, and I just kept pushing until he confessed, but even then it wasn’t his fault. He was an innocent in the whole thing. He told me that he had been seduced by a determined woman.”

“Do you know how long this affair has been going on?” Ray asked.

“Biff said a month or two. But, Sheriff, he doesn’t seem capable of telling the truth, not about this. It’s just one story after another,” her eyes fell back to the table, and she appeared to collapse into herself.

“I know this must be very difficult for you,” Ray said. “Did you discover this before or after Lynne Boyd had been shot?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“Do you think there is any connection between the shooting and this alleged affair?”

“Sheriff, it’s not an alleged affair. And I don’t know if there is any connection. But I just want it out there. I want everything out. If Biff is involved in any way, I want to know. I’m not going to protect him.”

“Have you asked him if he is?”

“Yes.”

“And his response?”

“Biff, he says that he has no connection, that he can’t imagine anyone would want to kill Lynne.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. We’ve been married all these years, and now I think I’m living with a complete stranger. I don’t know who he is, and I don’t trust anything he says.”

“Is your husband a hunter; does he have a deer rifle?”

“Sheriff, Biff owns every kind of sports equipment there is: hockey sticks, footballs, skis, baseball gloves…”

“Does he own a rifle or other guns?”

“I’m sure he does. He hasn’t gone deer hunting in recent years, but I know he’s got one. In fact it came up in one of our arguments.” Her face went crimson as her anger swelled. “He asked me if I had shot Lynne,” she spit out, and then she collapsed in tears.

Ray retrieved a box of tissue from his desk and placed it before her. They waited for her to regain her composure.

“I don’t understand it,” she continued. “He doesn’t seem that upset about her. And he’s angry with me. Like I’m somehow responsible for everything that’s wrong.”

Ray allowed her last statement to hang a long moment, then he said. “Rachael, I do have to ask you if you shot Lynne Boyd. By your own admission, you clearly have a motive.”

“I do,” she responded, some strength flowing back into her voice. “I have wished her dead, both of them, actually. But I had nothing to do with it. I will take a lie detector test.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Ray asked.

“I look after our kids and work part-time for a real-estate broker.”

“Tell me about your kids?”

“We have a ninth grader and a senior, two girls. Laura is going to be going to college next year. She hopes to go to Michigan State like her dad. And now I just don’t know what’s going to happen. I may be a single parent before long.”

“Is there anything else you want us to know?” Sue asked.

“I think that’s everything. And I’m not telling you that I think he had anything to do with the shooting, but I needed to tell someone about this, and you should know what I know.”

“Do you think you are in any danger from your husband?”

The answer was long in coming. “He’s never touched me or the girls.”

“We will need to have a conversation with your husband, and he will quickly know that you’ve talked to us. We don’t want your personal safety in jeopardy.”

“If it happens, it happens. Perhaps it will bring clarity to this whole incredibly awful situation.”

“If you feel threatened in any way, please call 911. One of our dispatchers will immediately get you the assistance you need.”

The conversation was over, and they all rose at the same time.

“Thank you for coming in,” said Ray. “I know this has been very difficult.”

“Thank you for listening,” She responded. “I hope Biff isn’t involved, but if he is I need to know.”

They shook hands again, and Sue escorted her out of the office and returned a few minutes later.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think we should talk to him as soon as possible. See if you can get him in here later this afternoon. And after you get that set up, would you check and see if Lynne’s mother is still available. I want us to drive up to Crescent Cove to talk to her. While you’re doing that, I’ll call the hospital and see if I can get a medical update. If only we could question her.”

“Will do,” said Sue, and she hurried out of Ray’s office.

32
Sue had pulled her vehicle next to the rear entrance and was waiting as Ray emerged from the building. He opened the door on the passenger side and asked, “Going my way?” “Get in,” she responded. After she pulled onto to the highway, she said, “It’s interesting being your chauffeur.”

“How’s that?” asked Ray.

“Before you were injured…” she looked over at him, wondering if she should have opened this topic.

“Go ahead,” said Ray.

“When we were traveling in the same car, you always drove. We were like an old married couple. Now you seem to prefer the right hand seat.”

Ray thought about what she had said, then responded, “Well, I never knew what I was missing before. I’ve been behind the wheel since I was sixteen, never in the passenger’s seat. I’ve never had the opportunity to relax and look around. My eyes were always focused on the road. Since you’ve been driving me, I’ve seen all kinds of thing I’ve never noticed before. And these are roads I’ve traveled hundreds of times.”

“Are you going to ask the county board for a permanent driver?” she teased.

“Sure, that will be my top request for the next fiscal year.”

“Anything new on Boyd’s condition?”

“She’s stable, and they consider that a good sign. How are you feeling?” Ray asked, changing the subject.

“I assume you’re talking about the case?” Sue responded.

“Yes.”

“Probably the way you are, frustrated. I’ve never worked a crime scene before where I didn’t find something useful.”

“No one will ever fault you for not doing a thorough job,” Ray responded. After a brief pause he continued, “Assuming that this wasn’t a random event, and nothing about this appears to be random, let’s focus on other strands.”

“So we switch to motive, the “Ls” again,” said Sue.

“Would that have worked in the Leiston case?” Ray asked playfully.

“I think so, to a degree,” Sue answered. “Love and lust were part of it, perhaps loathing, too. They seemed to loathe the rest of humanity. But lucre was not. The two of them had enough lucre between them to get along. Maybe we have to add codependence to the list. And lunatics, too. I guess that’s not too politically correct,” Sue looked across at Ray.

“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends.”

“Do you know how much better I’ve gotten at Jeopardy since I’ve started hanging with you? Shakespeare, right.”

“Now give me the play and the speaker of those lines?” he quizzed.

“Hey, Ray, that’s enough proof of my cultural literacy for today. Don’t push it,” cautioned Sue with feigned gravity. “How about wrapping that mind of yours around this again.”

“I’ve been doing that. After Dirk, we’ve got to look at friends and family. And even with what appears to be a fairly airtight alibi, there still is a hell of a lot more I want to know about him.”

“Like what?”

“Like he might have known Lynne’s parents, at least her father, long before he entered her life.”

“Well, that’s an intriguing bit of information. Where did you get that?”

Ray told her about his conversation with Nora Jennings. How there was a fatal hunting accident on Round Island during deer season. Sheriff Orville Hentzner, Ray’s predecessor, deemed the shooting accidental, and according to Nora’s story, by this time Orville had more or less turned the day to day operations over to three younger offices, Dirk being one of them.

“That’s amazing,” Sue responded.

“So there’s that,” said Ray, “but back to friends and family. As I told you, Lynne’s father doesn’t look too healthy. Does she have siblings who are out there waiting for him to die? Could there be a brother or sister trying to limit the number of inheritors? And we may have had an impossible crime scene, but if there’s a shooter who planned to kill Lynne and hoped her husband would be suspect number one, well Dirk’s credit card receipts are an unexpected twist.”

“So you want to know about the family? If a brother or sister might have some motive to off Lynne. Fratricide,” said Sue.

“Sororicide,” Ray retorted.

“Touché.”

“I want to know about the family, siblings or anyone else who might want Lynne dead. I also would like to know more about her father. Might he have enemies who would strike at his children as a way of getting to him?”

Sue turned onto the private road that ran into Crescent Cove and came to a stop at the bright orange steel beam that blocked the road horizontally. A young man in the uniform of a private security company got out of a large white SUV and approached her vehicle.

“We’re expected,” Sue said after opening the window.

The man looked down at a clipboard. “You’re Detective Lawrence?”

“Yes,” she responded.

“And who are you, sir?” he asked, looking toward Ray.

“That is the sheriff of this county,” Sue answered.

The man peered over at Ray, studied his face and uniform, and then carefully inspected the contents in the rear of the vehicle.

“Okay,” he said, then he walked to side of the road and easily lifted the heavily counterbalanced bar.

Sue slowly accelerated.

“Tell me I’m in Oz,” said Ray.

“The gate was open, and there was no security person here on Monday,” said Sue. “But this is really strange. What just happened?

“Check your rearview mirror. See if one of those little black helicopters is tailing us,” Ray quipped.

33
Ray had seen the main house of the estate from his kayak the past summer and thought he had a sense of the size of the place, but when Sue turned onto the large circular drive that ran to the main entrance of the building, he was surprised by the enormity of the building.

“Like I told you,” said Sue, noting his reaction, “quite a joint.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

Before they got to the entrance one of the double doors swung open, and Harry Hawkins greeted them.

“Sheriff and Ms. Lawrence I believe,” he said, momentarily holding Sue in his gaze.

“Yes,” said Ray. “This is Harry Hawkins, Mr. Boyd’s personal assistant and lawyer.”

“Let me give you a more complete description of what I do. Actually, I work for an international law firm headquartered in Chicago. I’ve been assigned to the Boyds’ corporation, and I look after the day-to-day needs of Mr. Boyd and the family.

“Mrs. Boyd is expecting you. If you would follow me, please,” Hawkins directed, after shaking hands with the two of them. They were led down a large staircase into the atrium area. A wall of windows faced west, providing a view of Lake Michigan and Round Island. Ray paused briefly and looked at the waves breaking on the shoal at the south end of the island. He wished that he were out there in his kayak paddling into the swell and then turning and surfing back to shore—directly experiencing the power of nature. “Strong winds from the south today,” Hawkins observed, as he paused, waiting for Ray.

They followed Hawkins across the atrium, Ray inspecting the elaborate pattern of the parquet floor, noting that he saw no native woods.

At the south end of the room, double doors stood open. Hawkins led them into a large paneled room. Two ample couches in a rich, port-colored leather faced one another in the middle of the room, separated by a rectangular coffee table. Several chairs were positioned near the couches. An elaborate silver tea service and delicate china cups and saucers were arranged at the center of the table. Lights high in the ceiling brightly illuminated the sitting area. Ray observed that the room was lit like a theater stage and wondered if they were about to be participants in a play.

“We have coffee and tea set out, but if you wish to have anything else…,” Hawkins inquired, after he indicated they should sit on one of the coaches. He looked first at Ray, then at Sue.

“Coffee would be fine,” Ray responded.

Hawkins picked up a cup and saucer and poured a steaming stream of mahogany-colored liquid from the silver coffee pot.

“And you?” he asked, looking in Sue’s direction. When she didn’t instantly respond, he asked, “Would you like something else, perhaps a Diet Coke?”