The Killing Game(59)

She was slightly surprised Gretchen remembered. “Tommy. Grace said Tommy used to mow lawns. She acted like she was a kid, but it’s hard to know what time frame she was thinking of. Any way around it, Grace’s account could be terribly flawed.”

“Bound to be,” her partner agreed.

“I called Mr. Bromward and left a message on his phone, asking if he remembered Tommy. He’s hasn’t called me back, so I’m thinking about just stopping in. He’s one of the few not sick of answering questions.”

“The guy with the cats.”

“The guy with the cats who’s really hard of hearing,” September added. “Probably why he doesn’t answer his phone.”

Gretchen grunted an assent. “Maybe Tommy mowed his lawn, too.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“What about the Asian neighbors?”

“The Lius’ daughter, Anna, has become less and less interested in helping. She’s tired of interpreting. Says her parents don’t know anything. Pretty much everyone I’ve interviewed is fed up with my questions.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Gretchen said, setting her jaw.

As glad as September was to have her partner back on the case, she knew Gretchen’s take-no-prisoners approach could backfire. It had before. “I’ve also got a call into Elias Mamet. His house is the rental two doors down from the Singletons’. He’s been promising me a full list of his renters over the last twenty years, but he hasn’t come through.”

“Give me the number.”

“I will. But . . .”

“What?”

“Try not to piss him off. He’s brusque and impatient and I’ve worked hard to get him on my side.”

“You don’t think I have the finesse to deal with him?”

September looked into Gretchen’s blue cat’s eyes and answered truthfully. “No, I don’t.”

“Then I won’t threaten him with jail if he doesn’t produce the list by Monday.”

“Good idea,” September replied dryly. “I mentioned Tommy to him and he didn’t remember him, but . . .” She flipped through her notebook. “He said I should talk to the Hasseldorns, who moved away about ten years ago. Randall Hasseldorn’s retired, but his wife, Kitsy, is a real estate agent with Sirocco Realty. Mamet acted like Kitsy knew all.”

“Great. Let’s start with her,” Gretchen said.

“After Bromward.”

“Hell no.”

“You just don’t want to revisit all Bromward’s cats.”

“You got that right.”

“Too bad,” September said, unlocking her desk drawer and reaching for her messenger bag. She used to keep it in a locker in the break room, but she was in and out of the station so often, she liked it closer at hand.

Gretchen looked like she was going to argue the point about Bromward, but then her gaze strayed to George and her expression grew thoughtful. With a shrug, she led the way out of the squad room, saying, “Fine. I’ll drive.”

*

Andi arrived at the lodge fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting. She could smell the clean scent of fresh lumber and realized they were adding wings that jutted away from the main building at forty-five-degree angles to both ends of the central structure. A lot more money, she thought.

The echo of hammers reached her as she walked across chunky gravel toward the lodge, stepping carefully around pieces of wood, stacks of shingles, various piles of building supplies, workers’ trucks, and vans. There was a makeshift ramp made out of two-by-six boards that led to an open six-foot-wide gap that was the lodge doorway at this point in the construction. She headed up the sloping planks, glad yesterday’s rain had stopped; she suspected the wood could be slick.

Inside, the foyer’s soaring roof, still just rough framed, rose up two stories. The hammering was sporadic: rhythmic for a while, then not, then ceasing altogether, then starting up again. The muffled whine of a saw sounded from down a hallway. She wasn’t sure where Carter planned to meet, so she stayed just inside the door, aware the lodge was still in the beginning stages. Maybe it would be ready for business by next summer . . . maybe.

She heard a car approach and looked back through the front door opening. It was Carter’s BMW. She watched him climb out and remote lock his car as he walked toward her. He hurried lithely up the planks. “You’re already here,” he said.

“Well, yeah.”

“I guess I’m used to Emma, the perpetual no-show.”

His eyes were bright with some inner excitement and Andi asked, “What?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You’ve got something on your mind, so . . . what is it?”

“Oh, I’ll wait till Emma gets here.”

“If she gets here,” Andi reminded him. “You just said she’s a perpetual no-show.”

“We’ll just wait for a little while, then. What do you think of the place?” He gazed up at the ceiling and around, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was like a proud papa, Andi realized.

“It’s coming along. I see the wings are going on. I thought that was going to be our second phase.”

“It was. But you know how it goes . . . it’s cheaper to get the work done now, while all the subcontractors are here.”