A City Of Dread: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 7 Read online

  “And the constant agitated state he seems to be in?”

  James tilted his head. “He did seem a little out of it this morning, I’ll give you that, but I’ve never really seen him off kilter, otherwise.”

  I shrugged. “Probably just having an off day.”

  “Yeah, well, we both know that feeling, lately.”

  “True enough. Find anything in the rubble we can use to further our case?”

  James shook his head. “Take a look around. This sucker burned hot. We were lucky to be able to pull the vehicle identification number off from the car. That said, at least we know it belonged to Kramer.”

  “It’s something, right?”

  “One step at a time. By the way, what became of Sarah?”

  “Still here. She stayed in the car. The smoke was getting to her.”

  “Ah. Got it. You know, why don’t you two go ahead and get out of here. I’ll wrap it up, and give you a call if we come up with any new leads.”

  “Appreciate it,” I said. “Guess we’ll head back over to The Shallows and knock on some doors.”

  “Excellent. Our man Bruce Scott should be there today. Give him a call.”

  “Will do.”

  James gave a wave and headed back toward the smoldering mess as I returned to the car.

  “Any luck?” Sarah asked as I climbed in.

  “Nothing, other than confirmation the car belonged to Kramer.”

  “Did you ask James about our pal, Wayne?”

  “I did,” I said, and repeated what he’d shared.

  “Oh, crap. Poor man,” Sarah said. “Now I feel bad.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “It’s not like you were being mean to the guy. He’s just … different.”

  Sarah squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks. So, what next? It’s too late to go back to bed, and too early to do much else.”

  “I vote for food.”

  “Oh, yeah, coffee alone ain’t gonna cut it. Any thoughts on where you might want to go?”

  “Nowhere fancy. In fact, a simple breakfast sandwich would set me right.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes as I started the car. “Fast food? Yuck. I can’t do it this morning. I already feel crappy enough.”

  “OK. You make the call and I’ll go along with it. I’m not fussy. Just need to fill the void.”

  “Let’s go to our diner,” Sarah said. “They have way better coffee than the place we went this morning.”

  “Hometown Diner it is.”

  “Now that we’ve got our dining plans settled, what are we going to focus on today?”

  “I told James we’d head back over to The Shallows and interview some of the other owners. James said he thought the manager would be there again today.” I handed Sarah my phone and my wallet. “His card is inside. Mind giving him a shout while I drive?”

  “I can do that,” she said.

  While Sarah spoke with The Shallows manager, I thought about the unsettling news concerning the now deceased rookie firefighter we’d lost this morning. We were on our way to enjoy a nice hot breakfast at the same time the firefighter’s family would be receiving the terrible news. It didn’t seem fair, but it made me appreciate what we had.

  “We’re all set,” Sarah said. “Bruce told me he’d be keeping an eye out for our arrival. Said he was willing to knock on doors with us, and would make any necessary introductions.”

  “Good deal. Maybe we’ll make some headway.”

  * * *

  “I’m stuffed,” I said as we stood up from our booth at the Hometown Diner. “Why’d you let me eat all that corned beef hash?”

  “As if I could stop you,” Sarah said. “It would have been like taking a freshly prepared roast away from a grizzly. I didn’t want to lose an arm.”

  “OK, that’s just mean-spirited,” I said as I tossed a tip onto the table.

  “Oh, come on, you’re used to it. Don’t get all sensitive on me at this late date.”

  I laughed and waved to our server as we left the joint. “What’s today?” I asked Sarah as we walked out to the car.

  “Seriously? It’s Thursday. Why?”

  “Traffic. Maybe we should take the back way over to The Shallows.”

  “It shouldn’t be too bad on the highway this early, but it’s your call.”

  As usual, she was right, and within ten minutes we were standing face to face with Bruce. “Carter, Sarah, nice to see you again. You picked a good day to talk to the owners. There’s an annual meeting this afternoon, so most of them are here.”

  “Good to know,” I responded.

  “Where do you folks want to start?”

  “Let’s focus on the units on the west side of the building,” I said.

  “Sure thing. That’s seven units, in all. Nine, minus Cole’s and the one that’s on the market.”

  “Which unit is for sale?” Sarah asked.

  “First floor, back corner, right next to Cole’s.”

  “Happen to know the name of the owner?” I asked.

  “That one’s owned by a trust. I’m glad it’s unoccupied at the moment, and thrilled it’s being sold. To be honest, it’s been nothing but a pain in my backside. Whoever bought it used it as a rental property. Only available in two week increments. Of course, some folks would pay for blocks of time then stay here for extended periods, but it’s been one set of strangers after another parading through this place.”

  “I’m surprised the folks who wrote the covenants and restrictions for the condo association allowed for that type of activity around here.”

  “It’s my understanding that those rules are exactly what helped sell the condos to begin with, though a lot of owners shy away from being landlords or having to pay someone to manage the rental responsibilities,” Bruce said.

  “You must have the name of the company that managed the rentals for the vacant condo,” I said.

  “Whoever runs the trust set all of that up,” he replied. “Honestly, the owner or owners may use it from time to time. I have no way of knowing the difference between owner and renter.”

  I jotted down a few notes as we walked. “Do you have the name of the people who live in the other condo, adjacent to Cole’s?”

  “Her name is Connie Lund. Nice lady. Just had her eighty-fifth birthday last week.”

  “Is she around today?” I asked as Bruce held the entry door open for us.

  He laughed. “Connie is always here. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her leave the property. She doesn’t even own a car.”

  A couple knocks on the door and she appeared. “Bruce. What a nice surprise.”

  “Good morning, Connie. I hope we’re not bothering you, but I’d like you to meet Carter and Sarah. They’re helping the Bridgeport Police Department with their work and were hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  “Why, sure. Come on in,” she said and gave us a big smile.

  “I’ll be around,” Bruce said. “Send me a text when you’re ready to speak to the next owner.”

  “Sounds good,” I said and turned to give Connie a smile.

  “How about a nice, hot cup of coffee,” she said as she closed the door. “It’s fresh.”

  I stole a quick glance into her kitchen, saw the store-brand coffee canister sitting on the counter, and knew we were in for some award-winning joe.

  “That would be lovely,” Sarah said. “What a beautiful place you have. So cheery.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. I absolutely love it. Best place I’ve ever lived,” she said, her voice trailing off as she made her way toward the kitchen. “Please, have a seat. Anywhere you’d like.”

  We chose a spot on the couch where we’d have a clear view of Mark Cutter’s home.

  “I noticed you looking out at the Cutter’s place,” she said as she returned with her fancy coffee set, a frown replacing her smile. “Such a shame about the husband.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” I responded. “We’re asking folks in your building for informati
on.”

  “Any arguments that might have taken place, strangers hanging around, that sort of thing,” Sarah added.

  “I see,” Connie replied. “I’d remember a situation like that. There’s been no such trouble.”

  “Do you see your neighbor Jackson Cole often?” Sarah asked.

  Connie’s face lit up at the mention of our prime suspect’s name. “Don’t I wish,” she said as her broad smile reappeared. “Jacko is the nicest young man. Always so polite and attentive. Makes me wish I were a younger woman.” She laughed, then added, “Don’t get me wrong. His partner Robbie is as lovely as can be. They make a handsome couple, those two lovebirds.”

  “Do you remember when you saw Mr. Cole last?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s been many months. Poor thing is constantly overseas, fighting all these senseless wars we seem to keep getting ourselves into.”

  “What about the people who own the condo at the end of the hall?” Sarah asked.

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know them if I saw them,” she said. “They’re those renter types. You know, the people who buy units just so they can use them as income properties.” She shook her head and cupped her hand to the side of her cheek. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said in a quiet voice, “but I don’t like owners who do that.”

  I made note of the fact the information she’d provided jibed with what Bruce had shared. “Do the other owners feel the same way?”

  “Funny you should ask,” she said. “I really don’t know anyone else in the building … well, other than to say hello to on occasion, that is. People have such busy lives these days, don’t they? I get the impression they can’t be bothered with the likes of me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Sarah said.

  Connie winked. “Oh, don’t worry about me for a second, dear. I quite like it that way.”

  I slugged down the remainder of my coffee and turned to Sarah. “Do we have anything else to ask Connie?”

  Sarah simply shook her head.

  I stood up and gave Connie a smile and a nod. “You’ve been very accommodating, Connie. I want you to know how much we appreciate you taking time out of your day for us.”

  “Oh, not at all,” she replied. “I hope I’ve been a help to you.”

  “Absolutely,” Sarah said. “And, thank you so much for the coffee.”

  “My pleasure, dear,” she said and stood up to see us out. “It was so nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise,” I said as we stepped out into the hallway. “Bye, now.”

  “What a sweetheart,” Sarah whispered as the door clicked shut.

  “That she is,” I said as I reached in my pocket for my phone. All set to meet with the next owner, I typed into the text box and hit send.

  “Let’s go outside and wait,” Sarah said. “It’s summer. Too nice out to be cooped-up inside this building a minute longer than we have to.”

  I motioned toward the door and followed her out. I was about to review my notes when my cell began ringing. “Huh. Wonder if Bruce got tied up with another matter.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “Here he comes.”

  I looked at him then at the incoming call. It obviously wasn’t Bruce the manager calling. Problem was, I didn’t recognize the number. “Carter Peterson.”

  “Mr. Peterson, this is Steve,” the man said, his voice sounding familiar. “We met yesterday at my bar.”

  I gave Sarah a hand signal to give me a minute then walked out of range of our condo manager friend’s ears. “The Lobster Shack, right?”

  “Right,” he said. “Listen, you asked me to give you a call if I had any other information that might be useful to you and the police. Well, I was getting ready for bed late last night and I remembered an encounter I had with Jared Posner that I’d forgotten about.”

  “What have you got?”

  “Well, me and a few of my buddies were sitting inside a sports bar up in York, having a few beers, when in walks Posner, three sheets to the wind. I did my best to ignore the guy, but he wasn’t having any of it. So, he gets right in my face and says, ‘How’s that little wench you got working for you? Hope you’ve had your fill, ‘cause she might not be around much longer.’ Mr. Peterson, I’m sure you can understand why I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, but under the circumstances, his words might mean more now than they did then.”

  “Absolutely. Can you give me a rough idea when this encounter took place?”

  “It happened the evening of June tenth. I know, because we were celebrating my best friend’s birthday that night.”

  “That’s helpful,” I said. “I appreciate your call, and can assure you, we’ll be paying Posner a visit.”

  “Good. You know where to reach me if I can help in any way,” Steve said and ended the call.

  I stood there for a beat, doing my best to weigh whether we should finish what we were doing here, or track down this Posner character for a non-optional question and answer party.

  And, though I’d probably regret missing the opportunity to be served another cup of delicious coffee here at The Shallows, word of Posner’s previous threat concerning Robbie Kramer made me think a trip across the river into Maine was the right answer.

  Chapter 15

  “Are we going to alert York Police Department as a precaution?” Sarah asked as we crossed the river into Maine.

  “I ran the whole scenario by James while you were talking to Manager Steve,” I said. “James said he’d notify the chief, and that the chief would place a call to York PD.”

  “Should have known you’d be right on top of it,” Sarah said.

  “I hated to leave The Shallows, but what this Posner character said to Robbie Kramer’s boss hit me as a direct threat.”

  “I get it,” she said. “The old bird-in-the-hand philosophy, right?”

  “Pretty much. Seems easier to confirm Posner as a suspect, or cross him off our list than it does Cole, right about now.”

  “I guess, but it seems to me he’s far less likely to be our killer. I mean, I get Posner’s connection with Kramer, but what about Cutter and Sprague?”

  “No idea. That’s what we need to find out.”

  “Maybe we’ll find fireplace tool number four at his house,” Sarah teased, just as my cell began buzzing. “It’s James,” she said and placed my cell phone on the dash.

  “Guess our confirmation with the York PD came through, huh?” I asked James.

  “Uh, no, not yet,” James replied. “Better than that. We’ve got a handle on Cole’s whereabouts. Well, sort of.”

  “Sounds a little cryptic, Detective,” Sarah said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “I got on Luce about how you two found Cole’s photo and travel information on his social media pages. Not one to be outdone, Luce rose to the occasion and got busy. According to what she found, good old Jacko is somewhere along the northeastern portion of the Appalachian Trail.”

  “He’s off hiking, somewhere?” Sarah inquired.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look at what she found, but that’s my understanding.”

  “Our soldier suspect is allegedly rummaging around in the woods? That’s unsettling,” I said. “Where does that leave us?”

  “I don’t know, yet,” James said. “I’m on my way to the station now. I plan to review the information Luce found with the chief. We’ll decide how best to proceed after that.”

  “All right. We just crossed into Maine, so we’re about ten minutes from the York Beach police station. Seems to me we’d better check in with them before rattling Posner’s cage.”

  “Absolutely. Sorry I haven’t been able to get confirmation from the chief. As you well know, it’s been a crazy morning, and it isn’t even nine o’clock, yet.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll figure it out.”

  Sarah reached for my phone and ended the call. “When it rains, it pours.”

  “Been a busy one, but I guess it’s better
than being bored.”

  “Yeah, provided we can catch our killer. This morning’s loss brings the total to four. Four deaths, related to foul play, in our city within two weeks. Bridgeport’s our home, not some derelict wasteland circling the drain. This needs to end, Carter.”

  “That’s why we’ve been up since the four-thirty. It’s all super heroes and miracles on television and in the movies. Out here in the real world it comes down to tenacity. You. Me. James. We grind it out until the truth comes to light. Some days are easy. Others days, nothing but dead ends and wasted time. But, here’s the thing. I’ve never once heard you say you wanted to give up.”

  “Yeah, screw that. Someone’s got to help end the madness. Might just as well be us.”

  “That’s the way I see it,” I said as I signaled and slowed for the off ramp leading to York Beach. “I’ve been at this gig a long time. Knock one bad guy down and two seem to pop back up. But, somehow we find the wherewithal to get up and do it all again the next day.”

  Sarah nodded. “You know I don’t make a habit of throwing compliments at you, but I feel strongly about this. You inspire me to keep doing what we do. There are days when I really do feel like throwing in the towel, but you … well, I never see you waver.”

  “Thanks. As I’ve said before, I don’t know what else I’d do if we weren’t chasing bad guys around. Basket weaving and such just wouldn’t be a good fit for me.”

  “I have to agree. It cracks me up to picture you sitting at a table working on crafts.”

  My phone began buzzing again as we pulled into the police station parking lot. “I’ve got it,” Sarah said. “It’s James again.”

  The conversation lasted no more than twenty seconds.

  “York PD left five minutes ago to round up Jared Posner,” Sarah said. “James said they’re planning on bringing him back here for questioning, and that we have the green light to observe. The officer who’s handling the interview will speak to us before he starts. We’re to sit tight until they get back. He also said there’s no way of knowing if the social media post showing Jackson Cole out on the Appalachian Trail is current. It was posted recently, but could have been taken days ago.”