Tidal Kin Page 18

  Katepoo talked to Barb Ferguson in the Sagers’ yard while Coigne called ahead to the district court where Singh would be placed in lock-up and booked. He got another call the moment he hung up.

  “Got your voicemail, Coigne. And yes, use my driveway. You didn’t need to wait for my permission.”

  “Glad to hear you say that, Norma. We didn’t wait. Look, can I call you back? We’re taking Singh in right now.”

  “You got him.”

  “Yep. In the back seat. Details later.” He hated to hang up. He looked forward to telling her about it, watching her face as he walked her through each step. If only he could skip the part about failing to anticipate Laney’s early return. The girl could have been kidnapped again, or killed. Even if he tried to hide that part from Norma, foolish though that would be, Anne Sager would tell her all about it. Coigne adjusted his rearview mirror so he could see Singh’s face. “You comfortable back there?”

  “Quite comfortable. And you?”

  “Never better. Enjoy your cushy seat, because they’ve never heard of upholstery where you’re headed.”

  “By contrast, I hear you know quite a bit about the soft life.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  Katepoo called over to Coigne. “Be with you in a minute.”

  Singh spoke quickly. “You’ve been known to accept consideration in return for helping people in my situation. Am I right?”

  “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, just hold on.”

  “I think ten grand should cover the cost of an unfortunate car accident that would allow me to escape, and your partner unfortunately would have to—”

  Coigne nodded toward Katepoo, who was heading toward the cruiser. “I don’t cut my partner out. Wait until he gets in.”

  The young trooper looked in the backseat before getting in. Coigne detected the smile beneath his solemn face.

  “Now continue, Mr. Singh,” Coigne said, pulling out of Norma’s driveway.

  “I was saying ten grand should cover the cost of an accident permitting me to escape.”

  “Yes, right, and once you take off we get paid how?” Katepoo said.

  “You have heard of Tissot?”

  “Who’s that?” Coigne asked.

  “It is not a who, it is a watch, Lieutenant. My watch, to be precise.”

  “I saw it. Nice watch. So what?”

  “Each hour is diamond-studded. That’s two carats, ten thousand dollars. The watch is worth at least that.”

  “Time really is precious. Hand it over. Let me see.” Katepoo reached for the watch.

  “No. Not until the accident.

  Coigne said, “It’s a deal. Trooper Katepoo, we head toward the courthouse. I know a good place for an accident.” To Singh he said, “Be about thirty minutes this time of day.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  From time to time as they drove, Coigne caught Singh watching him in the rear view mirror, waiting for a signal the accident was about to occur.

  Forty minutes later they arrived at the courthouse, a modest, pale orange building, part brick, part concrete. Singh struggled to get out of his seat, his face a battlefield between fear and hatred. “What’re we doing here?”

  Coigne turned around. “Taking you in, barfbag. What does it look like?”

  Katepoo got out. “I’ll get the evidence bag from the trunk.”

  Coigne nodded. Two troopers came out of the building and headed their way. Katepoo waved.

  Coigne turned to the backseat. “And you get to keep your Tissot, Mr. Singh—for about five more minutes.”

  Katepoo opened the back door and pulled Singh out. “I sure could have used a new watch.”

  “I could have paid off my car with that cash,” Coigne said, joining the group as they escorted their prisoner inside.

  “Coigne! Coigne! What’s going on there? You left your cell phone on, moron. I heard the whole thing. Hell. I’m coming down there.”

  44

  “I’m too old for this.”

  “We’re just going for a drive, Norma. Simmer down,” Coigne said.

  She had arrived at the courthouse and sat in the parking lot for what seemed like hours. Her initial impulse was to barge in and get a good look at the piece of shit responsible for terrorizing Laney. She didn’t do it. This was Coigne’s show.

  Coigne had finally walked out of the building with a five o’clock shadow and baggy eyes, but his slow smile in Norma’s direction hinted he was satisfied. He told her he’d answer all her questions about Singh’s arrest, but only once they were on the road. He needed to drive. They’d pick up her car later.

  “Why do we have to go for a drive for you to answer my questions?”

  “Let’s just say we’re mixing business and pleasure.”

  She got in and slammed the cruiser door. “I don’t do pleasure drives. I’m too old for that.”

  As if only now considering the question, he asked, “How old are you anyway?”

  “Thirty-nine.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Jerk.”

  They drove down the Mid-Cape Highway in silence. Norma wondered where they were headed but was reluctant to ask. She didn’t want to belabor the pleasure drive-discomfort issue. It made her seem unsophisticated. How she appeared to others didn’t usually bother her. She tried to relax. “Why didn’t you tell me the rumors about your being on the take were false?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I said—”

  “I heard you. I was trying to think of a truthful answer. I guess I wanted you to figure it out on your own. I was hoping you knew me well enough to realize the rumors couldn’t be true.”

  “How could I realize it in the face of all the evidence to the contrary?”

  “Evidence. That’s just it. I wanted you to think like a human, not a lawyer.”

  “The two being mutually exclusive, of course.”

  “Besides, if I’d told you the truth and you didn’t believe me, where would that leave us?”

  “Us? What ‘us’?”

  The cruiser entered the brand new rotary. It was said the rotary’s construction had suffered steep budget cuts, up to fifty percent, so its circumference was fifty percent what it should have been. The local paper called it “tight as a panty girdle.” The third exit led toward the beach where the Pilgrims set eyes on Native Americans for the first time.

  Norma said, “It’s an incredible coincidence the Pilgrims landed on a beach called First Encounter Beach? Okay, dumb joke.”

  He smiled.

  She suspected he was heading to Fort Trent. No matter what time of year, she loved hiking through the park’s forests and fields and exploring the salt marshes. But she loved it when she was alone. Right now she felt only turmoil. She decided the only thing to do was to say what was on her mind. “I’m sorry I didn’t see through the bribery thing sooner, Coigne. I did figure out something, though.”

  “Shoot.”

  But she couldn’t say more. It would be like leaping blindfolded over quicksand. Instead, she hummed nervously.

  “You were saying, Norma? You figured out what?”

  “I figured out where we’re going. Fort Trent. Do you know there’s a huge rock on one of the trails Native Americans used to sharpen tools? There’s even a special groove where the tribe’s shrew sharpened her tongue. Please, no obvious comment about my familiarity with that groove.” She forced a laugh. Its heartiness amplified his silence.

  “We should call it a day, Coigne. You’re exhausted. You can tell me all about catching Singh after a rest.”

  Coigne answered by steering onto a winding road. It snaked up through high beach grasses on either side, passing an occasional shingled antique, a bed and breakfast, and a graceful old captain’s house, tribute to a nineteenth century whaling family. It welcomed tourists through an odd-shaped arch made of whale bone.

  They reached the end of the road. “Let’s get out,” he said.
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br />   They stood side by side against a rotting split-rail fence at the crest of the hill. On top of the world, they breathed in Nauset Marsh, Coast Guard Beach, and the Atlantic Ocean. Sunrise cast a balm over fields of wildflowers sloping down to the beach. To the west, a lone kayaker paddled through a canal. Without warning, a breeze whipped Norma’s skirt into a frenzy and she bent over to hold it down with both hands. “Ha! Do I look like Marilyn Monroe caught over a street vent?”

  The breeze died. Coigne’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

  She turned away from Coigne and straightened up. “What I really meant before, when I said there was something I’d figured out, was this. It didn’t matter to me whether or not you took bribes. I liked you anyway.”

  Her confession mortified her. He’d think she was so desperate for a late-in-life, now-or-never fling she was willing to abandon all moral sense. Maybe she was, but she wished she’d kept it to herself. She’d spoken softly and now hoped the wind had carried off her momentary madness. Coigne was quiet and he seemed lost in thought. She was beginning to feel optimistic. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

  He took her hand. Another breeze lifted her skirt. It billowed wildly. She struggled to control it with her free hand, then let go.

  45

  Sunrise on the Cape was an early morning opera. The birds tuned up at 4:00 a.m., and by 4:05 were well into their overture. Norma was awake anyway. She stood in front of her bathroom mirror examining her face for signs that the evening before with Coigne had changed it. She felt like someone else. Surely that showed. But it was the same strong jaw and slight overbite. She leaned in closer. She saw a woman trying hard not to laugh.

  As a concession to Coigne’s comment the night before—“You’ve got style, Norma”—she took five minutes instead of three to dress. The skirt from yesterday would do, her lucky skirt.

  Ravenous with hunger, she headed to the kitchen. In that room no one would ever suspect it was the 21st century: no individual coffee maker, no soapstone countertop, and no double-bowl stainless steel sink. Mr. Coffee and Formica counters worked fine, though her sink could use some Ajax. She spread peanut butter on toast, shook bacon-bits and raisins on top, and crunched her way to the front porch.

  By now the birds had gotten the surprise of sunrise out of their systems. When she’d first moved to the cottage, they would all flock to a ledge on her porch, an ideal spot for nesting as evidenced by the wisps of cotton strands and bird droppings everywhere. Instead of moving the ledge, Norma fortified it with two-by-fours to contain spillage. Now warblers swooped from across the yard and landed, displacing their angered kin, who’d fly off and whistle protest folk songs.

  Norma suspected her preoccupation this morning with birds was tied somehow to yesterday’s events, but it also allowed her to delay thinking about Anne. The conversation she needed to have would be awkward. “Needed to have” because Laney’s safety was still at risk. Sure, Varn was dead and Singh, locked up, but as Coigne had warned, Singh had a boss, and the missing letter was still that, missing.

  The question was how to approach Anne? Why should it be so difficult? They were best friends. Norma knew most people saw her as loud and rash, as did Anne. But her friend not only didn’t mind these traits, she delighted in them.

  “You’re the person I would have been if I’d had more courage, less refinement. You’re my id, Norma.”

  “I think you mean idiot, but never mind.”

  Anne was not easily led to divulging information unless she meant to. She would immediately catch on if she were being manipulated by Norma into spilling the beans, and close down. Worse, she’d retain the bitter aftertaste of such a ploy.

  The logical answer was to approach Anne directly, but how could she? It was none of Norma’s business, and by asking she’d make a fool of herself. She almost wished Dohnan hadn’t unwittingly tipped her off.

  Her hesitation concerned her. Have I turned myself into a ninny with my Coigne crush? Oh well, ‘Twere well it were done quickly.

  Anne’s car was parked in her driveway, but no one answered the door. Norma stepped inside.

  “Knock, knock. Hello, hello. Anne?”

  Anne appeared from the back hall. Her hair was flattened on one side. Her slacks, normally pressed, were wrinkled and her top, untucked. She squinted, as though even early-morning sun was too bright.

  “Looks like you slept in your clothes. You must be absolutely exhausted, poor woman. Did I wake you?”

  “Good morning, Norma.” Anne came into the living room and leaned against a wall, arms folded.

  “Your usual greeting is a kiss on the cheek or a shoulder squeeze. I’ve lost my touch,” Norma said. “Anyway, thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing after all the hubbub yesterday. Coigne told me about Singh’s arrest. Awful for Laney. For both of you. Is she here?”

  “No.”

  Norma waited, but Anne didn’t elaborate. Anne’s clipped answer probably meant she wanted Norma to shove off so she could get back to bed. Norma sat down. “I was wondering. It’s a small detail, need to clear it up.”

  “I see something’s on your mind, but can it wait? I’m awfully tired.”

  “No. I’m sorry, Anne. It can’t.”

  Anne shrugged and joined Norma by the couch, but didn’t sit down. “What is it?”

  “I’m wondering,” Norma said, fiddling with the fringe on a throw pillow “why you’re getting legal advice from Bitty Buchanan. Have I done something wrong? You know she’s unethical, don’t you? She thinks a scruple is a German pastry.”

  Anne cracked a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  Norma laughed, like they were having a good joke. “It’s not jealousy. It’s that I had to learn about it from this other lawyer, Derek Dohnan. It was a tad humiliating.”

  “You know I’m grateful for your legal advice, Norma. For all your help. God—you can’t possibly doubt that?”

  “Okay, I’m great. Now how about it? Why Bitty? She’s a divorce lawyer. You’re a widow.”

  “You’re right. Ms. Buchanan doesn’t have a stellar reputation. But she knows family law. That’s what she does. You’re a generalist, Norma, as you’ve told me many times. And you’re an excellent one. Besides, I was, well, you know it was just an impulse.”

  As Anne mentioned “family law,” another conversation with Anne came back to Norma. What had Anne said?

  Norma’s momentary distraction allowed Anne to go on. “I had a few questions about my role as Laney’s legal guardian, that’s all.” In a slightly mocking tone she said, “I’m completely loyal to you, Norma, and I’ll never consult her again. Scouts honor.” She saluted. “Better?” Anne wandered to the window by her piano.

  Norma had seen Anne mock other people, but always when they deserved it and with such a light touch they only suspected ill-will. She and Anne would later snicker as the target tried to work it out. Now Norma was the target. She tossed the pillow away and waited until Anne rejoined her.

  “Did you consult Bitty because there was something you didn’t want me to know?”

  “I’ve just told you why I consulted her, Norma. What’s making you so insecure anyway? Did that lieutenant put you up to this? By the way, you said he was dirty, but the other evening you sure seemed to have warmed to him.”

  It was as Norma feared. Anne was trying to change the subject. Coigne. What about Coigne? Then it came to her. It had been a casual remark during that awful meeting with Coigne about the cigarette pack and Rahul Singh. Anne had said something about Laney’s father and paternity claims. Anne must have talked to Bitty Buchanan about Buddy Todd’s paternity claims. Why else do you go to a family lawyer? But what paternity claims? Norma regarded her friend, who seemed tired and oblivious to the tension in the room. Norma was about to raise it up a notch for her.

  “Did you already know Buddy was in town before he rolled up on the beach, dead?”

  Anne didn’t hesitate. “I did, actually. He came to see me.
Said he wanted custody of Laney. Incredible. I sent him packing. But if you’re going to throw the book at me for not sharing this detail with you and the authorities, even though maybe I should have…maybe there was a reasonable argument to be made—”

  “Like Laney’s life was at stake!” Norma picked up the pillow and hurled it across the room.

  “Wait a minute. Do you think if I’d known there was any connection between Laney’s kidnapping and Buddy’s bothersome visit I wouldn’t have shared every detail with the police? But I didn’t. You’re looking at the situation with 20/20 hindsight. The last thing I wanted, the last thing that was in Laney’s interest when she went missing, was to get the police off on a wild goose chase about Buddy’s visit.”

  “Bullshit, Anne. There was a whole day between the discovery of the body on the beach and Laney’s disappearance. You could have sped up the identification of his body by coming forward sooner. Everyone in the neighborhood was asked if any stranger had been around. If you’d spoken up, everything might have changed.” Norma was shouting.

  Except for a slight pallor, Anne didn’t appear shaken by Norma’s tirade. “I had no idea it was Buddy who’d drowned and rolled up on the beach. I am telling you the truth—I had repressed that man’s previous visit.”

  “At some point, Anne, you must have realized there was a connection between his demand for custody and Gin’s, and Ken Crawford’s murder, and most of all, Laney’s kidnapping. And even if you didn’t, that’s the goddamn reason for the goddamn rule that you tell the police everything you know and let them put it together. You’re not a dummy, Anne. You know that.”

  After a long silence, Anne nodded. Her voice shook as she said, “I know it now. I made a horrible mistake.” She seemed to wilt.

  Their argument was leading nowhere. And how was it that, in a few short minutes, years of trust and friendship had gotten blown to smithereens? Norma knew she’d be devastated once she had time to reckon with all she’d just lost. For now, she needed answers. There was no longer any mystery about what all the bad guys had been after. She just couldn’t figure out how it all had gotten started and who killed Buddy. Other than Anne, who now seemed too tired to be helpful, everyone who could possibly enlighten her, Gin, Buddy, Old Man Todd, and Ken Crawford, was dead. She had only one card to play.