HARRY WAS ALREADY in his office when Nathan showed up.
“Well, aren’t you the early bird.” Harry peered at him more closely. “It’s not even seven o’clock. Look a little the worse for wear, Nate. Been carousing in the dens of Canyon City, have you?”
“Not exactly,” Nathan said. He went over to the ancient percolator that had steam still coming out the top of it. He poured some coffee into a cup and brought it back to the desk.
“Got a call around about dawn,” Harry said. “The search of Henley Place didn’t turn up anything, at first. Margaret Freeman was there, calm as could be, sure of herself, they said. The computers were used just for ordering supplies, which was curious but not proof of anything, though they took all of them away to analyze, of course. No file cabinets, not even a desk drawer with folders.
“I don’t know how it happened, but an unhappy worker on the night shift was apparently eager to help. Mentioned among other things that the director spent a lot of time in the copy room, where none of them was allowed. Now, the agents had already checked that room but back they went, just in case. Turns out the clever lady had been very clever indeed in this day of high tech. She’d opened new reams of copy paper and replaced the paper in them with her records. She resealed the packing on each ream so it looked like new. The agents just saw boxes of copy paper sitting in a corner waiting to be used and didn’t touch them. Only this time they were more thorough and tore them open and found the whole record of the operation. Every bit of it, as far as the investigators can tell. The stuff implicates French as well as Freeman. All the evidence we need. Thing is, have to wonder why she kept any of it.”
“Blackmail comes to mind. Who knows, given her rich clientele. Arrogance in there somewhere, too. She could’ve used a flash drive. So that’s a real coup. Except we don’t know where French is.” Nathan sipped the coffee. It was still too hot, but good.
“True, but unfortunately they did find Jimmy Norton. They pulled in local officers and their K-9 unit. He was in the ground behind a garden shed four feet under. Just like you thought he might be. Lot of digging. They found three more bodies there. Since more patients have gone missing, that part of things is ongoing. Still, it means Freeman has a life sentence ahead of her, and French, too, when they find him. No way out of that.”
“I understand the purpose of their so-called business, but none of it explains why Nora had to be killed. We don’t know the connection.”
“True. It’s a big hole in the case. Nothing we can tell the feds, much less Nora’s family.”
Nathan sat back and wondered what else he could do. An unfinished case was his idea of a worst scenario.
Harry’s landline sounded and he picked it up. The call was short and he seemed dismayed when he put the phone down. “I don’t want to make it easy for you. Seems too tidy for my taste.”
When he didn’t say anything more Nathan prompted him. “Am I supposed to read your mind?”
“What—oh, no, just, like I said, it’s all pretty convenient. Must be the cynic in me. That was Reynolds, the agent. Nice of him to call, though maybe he just wanted to brag. It seems Margaret Freeman is very interested in getting a break. She told the federal investigators that French had contacted Nora for more of her paintings. He’d done it on a whim, and she’d warned him against it. Jimmy Norton had seen the Wanted poster for French and knew French had contacted Nora, so he met with the guy in Jackson and set up a deal. Money in exchange for silence. The meeting was at Henley Place with Margaret, and Jimmy brought Nora along. That meant she could recognize them and by then knew too much.”
“Blackmail, just as I thought!”
“Old, old story, and it never works out well, does it. Poor souls. Babes in the woods with Freeman and French pulling the strings,” Harry said.
“They must have killed them both at the same time. So why bury Norton in their back yard and take Nora’s body all the way out to the mine?”
“Okay, one mystery left. Two, if you count that French is missing, of course.”
“Maybe Margaret Freeman disposed of Paul French herself,” Nathan said, in sudden insight.
“We might never know where he is. At least now we have something to tell the family. We’d never know anything if you hadn’t run with it. You didn’t give up. You found Henley Place. See why I want to keep you on?”
Nathan finished his coffee and stood up. “Mind if I take a few hours off?”
“Even though you just got here? Can’t say I do. A shower and some sleep wouldn’t hurt your image.”
Nathan smiled and left the office.
Out in the street he punched in a number on his cell phone before he remembered he couldn’t get a call through that way in Canyon City. May as well throw the cell away, he thought, and somehow the idea pleased him. He walked behind the sheriff’s office to Harry’s house and went into the sun porch. The computer was already on. It looked as if Harry had been trying to do some research in a browser and it had hung. Nathan released the program and opened Skype.
“Nathan! I hoped you’d call. You left me hanging with your unsolved case. What’s going on?”
“Hey, Nan. Your information gave us the lead we needed. Just want to say thanks.” Nathan gave her a summary of the outcome.
“Wow. Here I thought you were just twiddling your thumbs up there. Glad to hear it’s resolved. Couldn’t ask for better. So does this mean you’ll be back here soon?” Nan said.
He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Nathan? Hello? Still there, or have the boonies cut us off?”
“I don’t think so, Nan.”
It was her turn to be silent. When she spoke he caught the sadness in her voice.
“You’re not coming back at all, are you,” she said, a statement, not a question.
Hearing her words he realized he had made the decision final, maybe in that very moment.
“No, I’m not. Staying on here.”
Nan sighed. “I’ll miss you.
“Same here, but this isn’t the end, you know. I plan to call you whenever I need your help.”
“My expertise is available to you anytime. So is my undying affection. Talk to you, then, whenever.”
Nathan hung up. That was the only call he needed to make. Everything else could take care of itself.
He looked out the window. The sky was a mix of clouds and sun. The lake was calm, like glass.
“Good stuff,” he said, as he shut off the computer. He left the house, knowing exactly where he was going.
YOU ARE READING
The Magic Hour
Mystery / Thriller"It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof." -Childe Rowland "T...
