Death of a Survivalist Read online

  “I haven’t really seen him much over the past five years since he divorced my mom and moved to Vermont to live with his girlfriend.”

  She spat out the word “girlfriend” as if she would have used a more choice word but didn’t in deference to Charles’ elderly and delicate ears. Although the tone was harsh, the trembling around the mouth indicated to Charles that she felt the loss of her father more than she cared to let on.

  “That must have been very difficult for you,” Charles said.

  “Harder for Mom. She thought she had a happy marriage until Dad decided to hit the road.”

  “What did he do before he decided to move to Vermont?” Charles asked, although Joanna had already told him.

  “He worked in the family business putting up commercial buildings in the Boston area. The business was started by Granddad. Dad and Uncle Reggie inherited it.”

  “Was he always interested in survivalism?”

  “Not until he met her,” Tori said, her face twisted into a sour smile. “Oh, he always had an eccentric streak. Mom and I were never sure what group he was going to join or what he was going to get up to. But he was pretty sane until he met Lavinia. She was the really crazy one.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “She was selling commercial office space in Boston, basically she was just a real estate agent. He met her at some meeting.” Tori frowned, “There’s no accounting for chemistry.”

  “What does your Mom do?”

  “She’s a lawyer for the commonwealth. At least she got a good divorce settlement. Dad had to sell off some of his shares in the company to cover it. Served him right.”

  “Well, I’m sure his death has been hard for her.”

  Her eyes opened in surprise as if she didn’t expect Charles to be so perceptive. “Yeah, it has been. I guess she must have still loved him in spite of everything.”

  Charles nodded, knowing that was how he felt about his late wife.

  “When did you see your father last?”

  “The night before …” she paused and took a deep breath. “He took my boyfriend and me out to dinner. I think that was one of the reasons he came down here, he wanted to get a look at the guy I was seeing.”

  Charles smiled. “Fathers like to do that.”

  “Do you have a daughter?”

  He nodded. Thinking how all his expressed doubts and warnings hadn’t prevented Amy from marrying Jack the Philistine.

  “You know my boyfriend, he’s in our class—Jason Savoy.”

  Charles pictured a tall, serious lad who almost never spoke, an interesting contrast to the lively, garrulous Tori.

  “Dad didn’t like Jason,” the girl said.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me when Jason went to the bathroom. He said that Jason wasn’t strong enough, and I should dump him. I told him that he wasn’t my father anymore, and he couldn’t tell me what to do.”

  Charles nodded.

  Tori’s eyes filled with tears. “I guess that was kind of harsh, but I’m an adult now, and he had no right to boss me around.”

  “Right or wrong, I’m sure he was just concerned about you.”

  “He should have been more concerned when he decided to run off with that woman.”

  “Yes, he should have.”

  A small tight smile came over Tori’s lips. “Well, I’m his next of kin since he never married Lavinia, and I can guarantee she isn’t going to get her hands on his body. She’d probably burn him on a bonfire out in the woods somewhere as part of a weird pagan rite.”

  “I’m sure his body won’t be released until the police investigation has been concluded.”

  “When that time comes, I’m going to make sure he gets a normal funeral.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have killed your father?”

  She shook her head. “It could have been anyone. I’m sure he hung out with a lot of strange people up there in the woods. Who know which one of them might have had it in for him.” She paused and almost whispered. “But I think my father was getting ready to dump Lavinia. So my money is on her.”

  “Why do you think he was going to dump her?”

  “It was something he said when he told me to break up with Jason. He said that sometimes you just know that it’s time to move on, and he had a look about him like he wasn’t happy. I didn’t ask him. I didn’t really care. After all, he wasn’t really my father anymore. He’d left me behind. I guess that’s just as well since he got killed. Can you imagine losing a father that you’d really loved?”

  Charles kept his face blank, not admitting that he really couldn’t.

  Chapter 6

  That evening Charles sat in his living room and read the obituary that appeared in the local paper, trying to convince himself that it was tastefully non-effusive rather than cold. As he’d directed, the wake was listed as open to family only, and he hoped this would discourage colleagues from Opal College from attending. Amy, Jack and the boys would be enough of a showing, and Joanna, if she could take time away from her investigation. Charles realized with surprise that he would like to have her at the funeral as a representative of his current life and perhaps a sign of his future. Did this mean he was slowly getting over the death of his wife? He looked across the room, which was still much the way it had been before she died, and wondered if that was possible. For the first time he felt there was real potential for change, both for the room and for himself. He no longer felt the sense of loss or the anger that had followed the initial discovery of why his wife had died. In its place was a sad acceptance and a realization that his own blindness to his wife’s needs had been part of the problem.

  Thinking of loss and anger brought Charles to the subject of Sebastian Locke. He recalled the pent up violence in the man, especially with regard to his daughter. Could the man’s death have anything to do with his daughter’s boyfriend, whom he didn’t approve of? Charles thought about how Jason presented himself in class. Tall and thin, he rarely spoke, and seemed rather shy and self-effacing, especially when compared to Tori, who had opinions about almost everything and a cheerful willingness to freely express them. Charles could see why Locke might have considered the boy a bit too colorless to serve as a good match for his daughter. Had the man contacted Jason and arranged a meeting to warn him off his daughter? Although Jason seemed rather timid, such a confrontation, especially if Locke drew his gun, might have led to violence. There could have been a struggle during which the survivalist was accidentally stabbed. The boy would naturally be too frightened to come forward, but would he be disciplined enough not to tell his girlfriend? Charles doubted it, and he felt that Tori had been genuine in her ignorance of who had killed her father, so that seemed to take Jason off the suspect list. Plus there was no record on Locke’s phone of a call to the boy.

  Then there was Lavinia Cole. If Locke was really planning to break with her, as his daughter suspected, she might have snuck down to Opalsville to have it out with him, and such a meeting could have ended in violence. Charles didn’t know, but he suspected that all survivalists must have personalities that are a heady mixture of paranoia and anger, so possibly Lavinia and Sebastian would settle their differences with weapons.

  Deciding that Joanna needed to know the information that he had gotten from Tori Locke, he called her on his cell phone. When she answered, he could tell by her tone of voice that she was harried and he could hear shouting in the background.

  “I’ll have to get back to you, Charles, I’m out here at the scene of a motorcycle accident,” she said briskly.

  “No problem, what I have to say can wait.”

  “I’ll stop by your house in the morning, and I’ll provide donuts,” she said in a gentler tone.

  “Sounds good.”

  After ending the conversation, Charles locked up the house and made his way upstairs to the bedroom. When he reached the top of the stairs he realized that he was very much looking forward to seeing Joanna tomorrow.
Was this love, friendship or companionship? At my age, such fine distinctions probably don’t matter, he thought, as he got ready for bed. Just before he fell asleep, he wondered if he was fooling himself.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning at the breakfast table Charles reached into the box and fished out a coconut donut. His favorite. He was rather touched that Joanna had remembered. She was sitting across from him biting happily into a glazed one.

  “It was nice of you to do this, since I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said.

  “Yeah, not enough. By the time the ambulance took the motorcyclist to the hospital, and we got everything cleaned up, it was past one. I didn’t get to sleep until around two.”

  “You really didn’t have to do this, under the circumstances.”

  Her eyes locked on his. “I said I would, and I keep my promises.”

  “I know you do,” he said emphatically, vaguely ashamed, as if he had questioned her integrity. He told her about his conversation with Tori Locke.

  “So Locke’s daughter thought he was planning to break up with this Lavinia Cole,” Joanna said, chewing thoughtfully. “He could have called her right after having supper with his daughter and her boyfriend, and told her that they were through. She could have driven down the next morning and had it out with him in the basement of the library.”

  “When did you call Lavinia to tell her about Locke’s death?”

  “Around four in the afternoon.”

  “Of course, if the number was her cell phone she could have been anywhere.”

  Joanna shook her head. “The number we called was a landline at Locke’s place in Vermont, and she was there to answer.”

  “Well, we know Locke was killed between twelve and one. She could easily have done it and made it back to their place by four. What is it? About three and a half hours to his place?”

  “If she killed him on the early end and did some really fast driving, it’s certainly possible, I suppose,” Joanna agreed and sipped her coffee. “Cole is coming down later this morning to talk with us. I’ll try to find out more about her relationship with Locke. Would you mind if I gave her your name? She wants to meet with anyone who spoke at length with Locke on the day he died.”

  “Why?”

  “She said that she wants to get to the bottom of things.”

  “Sounds like she plans to conduct her own investigation. I’m not sure I like the idea of being grilled by some crazed female survivalist.”

  Joanna grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll set clear parameters for her, so she won’t harass you.”

  Charles reluctantly agreed, feeling somehow that his masculinity had been challenged.

  “Who else are you planning to talk to?” he asked.

  “Well, the ex-wife and Locke’s brother are coming out here tomorrow, so I’m going to meet with them. I want to find out where they were on the day of the murder. Ex-wives frequently have a grievance. I’ll also question the daughter with her mother present, although you’ve already given me a good idea of what happened recently between her and her father.”

  “And don’t forget the boyfriend, Jason Savoy, he had a reason to be angry at Locke as well.”

  Joanna nodded. “I’ll have them all come in at once that way I can establish timelines for where everyone was on the day Sebastian Locke was killed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Joanna paused and gave Charles an appraising glance. “How would you like to go out to dinner on Saturday night, assuming, of course, that no emergencies arise?”

  “Can we do that in the middle of an investigation?”

  “Why not? You aren’t a suspect.”

  “I did find the body.”

  Joanna grinned. “But you weren’t alone, and unlike the last time, you had no reason to want the victim dead.” Her smile broadened. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “Of course not. But I think Officer Henley has a different idea. He looked at me like I was the prime suspect.”

  “He’s young. He was just practicing his cop stare.”

  “I’d say he’s doing pretty good with it.”

  “I’ll let him know. He’ll be pleased. So what about Saturday night?”

  “I think that would be a fine idea.”

  Charles wondered what the next step in their relationship might be. Saturday would be their fifth date, and he suspected that a healthy, down-to-earth woman like Joanna, would soon be developing expectations. He tried to imagine what it would be like sitting across from her in the kitchen in the morning after they’d spent the night together. He found the idea simultaneously intriguing and a bit frightening. After having had sex for over thirty years with the same woman, he wondered what difficulties might arise with a change in partner, especially at his somewhat advanced age.

  Joanna must have sensed his nervousness. “Are you sure? We can always make it another time.”

  He shook his head. “Saturday will be fine.”

  She picked up her cup and plate, took them over to sink and rinsed them off. When she turned back to Charles, Joanna was smiling again in a slightly teasing way.

  “Well, I’ll see you this afternoon at the wake. I look forward to meeting Amy.”

  “That’s fine. But only if you can make it.”

  She gave him a knowing glance, as if she realized that he was still reluctant to let her too deeply into his life.

  “Like I said last time, I’ll make it.”

  • • • •

  Later in the morning, Charles was laying out the clothes he planned to wear to the funeral home, when the telephone rang.

  “Hello, I’m Roger Mornington. I’m an attorney here in Opalsville, and I’m handling your father’s estate.”

  “I thought my father’s lawyer was located down in Connecticut.”

  “That would be John Sweeny of Sweeny and Sweeny. Yes, he was with them for a number of years, but he transferred his business to me when he relocated to Massachusetts.”

  “I see.”

  “If it would be possible, I’d like us to get together at a time convenient to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’re mentioned in your father’s new will.”

  Charles was silent for a moment.

  “Were you aware that your father made a new will when he came to Massachusetts?”

  “No. Apparently he forget to mention that during my many visits to the nursing home.”

  A chuckle came down the line. “It’s been my experience that many people become a bit secretive as they get older.”

  Charles wondered if the same was already true of him.

  “I would also like to meet with Amy Rossiter. I believe she’s your daughter. I don’t seem to have an up to date address or phone number for her. I saw in the newspaper that there is going to be a wake for your father today in town, and I was wondering if it would be possible for the two of you to meet with me after that.”

  “The wake is from two to three. Would three-thirty work for you?” Charles asked.

  “That would be fine. I look forward to meeting you. My office is at 201 Main Street in the center of town.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find it with no problem.”

  Another chuckle echoed in Charles’ ear.

  “Yes, we hardly have a downtown one can easily get lost in.”

  Since Charles had offered to take Amy and the boys out for ice cream at a local family restaurant after the wake, he was sure she would have time available, but he called her to make certain.

  “Why does the lawyer need to see me?” she asked, sounding no happier than she had yesterday when he had informed her of her grandfather’s death.

  “I imagine your grandfather left you something in his will.”

  “Did he have anything left to leave after his time in the nursing home? Especially on top of the long stay Grandma had in a home before she died.”

  “I have no idea. I was just the designated visitor. Your grandfather neve
r confided in me about his financial affairs. Everything was handled by lawyers, first a fellow in Connecticut, and apparently now this guy Mornington. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up that he left you much. Your Uncle Ed was always his favorite. He probably just left you some token, but after all, he did like you.” Charles left unspoken the words more than he liked me.

  Amy remained silent. Charles knew she thought he was too hard on his father, but then she had never had the pleasure of being his child.

  “See you later,” she finally said.

  “Drive safely,” Charles said, but the line was already dead. Something was definitely wrong there.

  Chapter 8

  Charles arrived at the funeral home twenty minutes before the wake was due to begin. A middle-aged man in a black suit opened the front door and gave him a small, solicitous bow causing Charles to reflect that when you’re in mourning you’re temporarily elevated into minor royalty.

  He went into the room with his father’s name on a placard outside the door. He walked to the front and looked into the casket. Being nicely fixed up and wearing one of his thousand dollar suits, his father appeared almost as impressive as he had been in real life before the time in the nursing home had diminished him. Even his expression made him look poised to say something hurtful and sarcastic. Charles shook his head in amazement that such a powerful personality in his life could have come an end. How much of a change would this make in his own attitude, Charles wondered? Was the death of a father the punctuation point that so many people claimed it to be?

  He heard a noise behind him and turned around to see Amy coming into the room herding the boys in front of her. Charles smiled at his solemn grandsons, who were unusually silent as they proceeded up to the casket, glancing over their shoulders at their mother for reassurance. Amy appeared tired and worn as if she hadn’t been sleeping and had a lot on her mind.