Black Frog, page 9
Anne smiled at the characterization but remained silent, and Doug forged ahead.
“I’m sorry Anne. It was a mistake. I never should have agreed, but I thought I owed it to our marriage to try to work things out with Beth.”
Anne took a sip of her coffee, set the cup down, and casually asked the question.
“So how are things going with you and Beth?”
“Beth’s pregnant.”
Anne couldn’t hide her surprise, both at the announcement of Beth’s pregnancy and at Doug’s seemingly nonchalant attitude. Puzzled, Anne’s response came out forced and insincere.
“Congratulations. You both must be very pleased.”
Doug shrugged, looked directly at her, and replied.
“It’s not mine.”
“Not yours? So…what does that mean?”
“It’s over. Beth left town a few days ago – has lined up a job in Santa Fe, is moving out there with the child’s father. I’ll file for divorce – uncontested. So in a few months I’ll be unmarried.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I’m not. Maybe still a little confused, but mostly just relieved. I don’t think Beth was ever really happy with the marriage or with me. She was always angry and disappointed – wanting more. It’s weird, really - not having to worry about what kind of a mood she’s in anymore.”
Doug was about to say more when Kate showed up with the bill. Doug’s phone rang and after listening briefly, he responded “I’m on my way,” and ended the call. Standing up from the booth he moved to the counter to pay the bill, motioning to Anne to follow him. When they stepped outside, Doug scanned the parking lot before turning to Anne.
“Another body’s been found - up at Kokajo – axe to the head. It could be the second axe from the Patten Lumberman’s Museum. Can you come with me to the scene?”
Anne shook her head.
“I can’t. Hudson would fire me. You’d have to clear it with him first.”
Doug nodded, reached out, gently pulled her to him, and kissed her on the lips. Stepping back, he smiled and asked if she would be at the fundraising event at Central Hall that evening. Anne nodded, somewhat bemused, and Doug laughed, pleased to have surprised her.
“See you there.”
Inside Spencer’s Café, Kate Bishop was standing behind the cash register, frozen in place, her mouth hanging open.
“Oh. My. God.” she whispered to herself. “Doug Bateman just kissed Anne. He just kissed her in the parking lot.” She reached for her phone and began texting rapidly.
Doug pulled the blue police flasher up from the floor of the jeep, turned it on, and placed it on the dash for the trip over to Greenville. He made good time as the vehicles he overtook pulled over for him to pass, including Jimmy Bob’s white pickup truck a little north of the town of Shirley. When Doug reached Greenville he continued up along the east side of Moosehead Lake on Lily Bay Road, passing Northwoods Outfitters, the Shaw Public Library, and Auntie M’s Restaurant on the way out of town. It took him another half hour to reach Kokajo. Boasting a general store and a population of “not many,” Kokajo was situated at the west end of First Roach Pond and marked the end of paved roads. North of it stretched a vast wilderness of crisscrossing logging roads and scattered remote fishing and hunting camps.
Doug slowed at the curve south of Kokajo and pulled over behind a Greenville Police SUV that was parked next to a large hand-painted billboard that read “Keep Maine Green. This is God’s country. Why set it on fire and make it look like hell?” A Greenville police officer was leaning up against the billboard and Doug could see yellow crime scene tape stretched into the woods behind it. Showing his ID and signing the crime scene log, Doug stepped around the corner of the billboard and joined Chief Marcus and another of his officers.
Shaking Doug’s hand, Marcus pointed back into the woods.
“You can see the body back through the trees. We haven’t gone any closer – just taped it off until the Evidence Response Team can check it out.”
Doug peered back into the woods in the direction the chief had pointed.
“I called Peter Martell first thing chief, and they are on their way. Should be here in an hour or so. Meantime let’s mark a trail over to the body with some tape. As long as we stay close to it we shouldn’t disturb much in the way of evidence.”
Doug and Chief Marcus approached within about ten feet of the corpse, which was close enough, given the smell of decomposing flesh and the maggots actively feeding in the multiple wounds they could see.
“Looks like it’s been here two or three days,” Doug estimated. “Who discovered it?”
“Two teens from Kokajo, twins – Shaw and Hope Walker, smelled it when they walked passed the billboard and went to investigate. They saw it well enough when they rounded the billboard to figure out what it was and didn’t go any closer. The call came in from the general store in Kokajo. We questioned the twins and then let them go.”
Doug nodded and replied.
“Adult female, tied to a tree, axe still embedded in the back of her head – similar to the Richard Potter murder but not identical. Could be the same killer but there are some differences. The axe is definitely not the second axe taken from the lumberman’s museum. This one is a double-bitted axe – maybe Wisconsin or Michigan pattern, and it has a name written on the handle. It’s worn down quite a bit, but I would guess it says ‘Merrill.’ The Merrill’s were a big timbering dynasty in this part of Maine. We need to follow up on that. And the wounds are different – no killing blow at the nape of the neck, but a number of wounds on the victim’s back, both blunt trauma and gashes – looks like both the blade and side of the axe head may have been used. The lack of bleeding from any of the wounds, including the head wound indicates, I would guess, that the killing occurred elsewhere. So we need to be careful to preserve any tire tracks or footprints. Let’s extend the perimeter to include the shoulder of the road in both directions for fifty yards or so.”
Returning to the pavement, Chief Marcus and Doug watched the two officers tape off the shoulders of the road and talked over the progress, or lack thereof, on the Richard Potter case as they waited for the Evidence Response Team to arrive.
“Well, we’ve followed up on a lot of leads, Doug, but turned up nothing. John Shea, the malcontent from the town hall meeting, has an alibi for all day Sunday, as do most of the other people with an axe to grind with Potter.” Marcus smiled at his turn of phrase before continuing. “We’re still looking for the second axe – the divers are back out at Sugar Island this afternoon.”
Doug nodded and responded.
“The big question now is whether the two murders are linked. Is it the same killer, or do we have a copycat killing? If the victim here was at the town hall meeting and was opposed to the Lily Bay project, that will certainly strengthen the likelihood that it’s a single killer and strongly suggest a motive.”
Once the Evidence Response Team arrived and began to process the scene Chief Marcus and Doug had to wait another half hour before they were allowed back behind the billboard. Peter Martell briefed them on what they had learned.
“We have a good outline of what happened here – no rain this time and little disturbance of the scene. It looks like the victim was killed somewhere else and transported here based on the lack of blood, the nature of the wounds, and evidence on the ground. There’s a good set of tire tracks pulling off the pavement about 30 yards south of the billboard, coming from the direction of Greenville. We’ve got shoeprints leading from the driver’s side back to the rear of the vehicle and then over to the tree where the victim was tied, along with drag marks where the body was pulled, and corresponding lacerations, scuffing and dirt on the victim’s heels and lower body. So if you get a vehicle or footwear we can make a match.”
“What about the wounds?” Doug asked.
“Cause of death, which happened somewhere else, looks to be a single stab wound to the chest – a big knife, probably dead center on the heart.”
“What about the other wounds on the back?”
Leading Chief Marcus and Doug over to the body, Martell continued.
“It looks like the killer tied the victim to the tree in the tree hugger position and then practiced his axe throwing. You can see where he walked back and forth maybe a dozen times. He wasn’t very good – mostly he hit the victim with the poll or handle of the axe, with the blade cutting into the victim only two or three times. It might be significant that he threw from about 20 feet away, which is the standard distance for axe throwing competitions. So maybe he’s an axe-throwing enthusiast. If so, he’s not very accomplished.”
“And then, after he’s done with the throwing, he goes for the head?”
“Right. A single stroke to the back of the skull.”
“What about the victim – any indications of identity?”
Martell shook his head as Chief Marcus bent down and looked at the face of the dead woman before answering Doug’s question.
“I know who it is – should have identified her sooner. It’s Virginia Breen. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the state – or was, I should say. A real piece of work – a knockout when she was younger, but she put on a lot of weight in the last decade – early forties I think. Breen has had lots of issues with alcohol and pills – in rehab off and on. I can think of at least a half dozen people who would be happy to see her dead – so we have no lack of suspects. She’s a major landowner in central and northern Maine and owns a lot of real estate down on the coast – big into timber harvesting and high-end resort development. Very litigious – her hobby is taking state and local governments and business competitors to court and fighting over property development and resource extraction regulations and contracts. She’s a real bitch.”
Looking for a possible link to the Potter killing, Doug asked if Breen had been at the town hall meeting on the development plans for Lily Bay.
“Yes – she was definitely there and spoke out against it. Not because she was concerned about the environment or the impact of the development, but because it wasn’t her development. I also think that she has an active case in court against Richard Potter for some property issue.”
“O.K.” Doug replied. “We need to notify her family of her death and interview them about her recent movements and any disputes that might have flared up over the last month or so.”
Chief Marcus nodded. “We can handle that Doug, and can also start working up a list of her adversaries and their possible motives for you.”
Bateman, Marcus and Martell walked back out to the road just as a hearse from the local funeral home arrived to transport the body down to Augusta for autopsy. Doug and Chief Marcus headed back down to Greenville, and Doug decided to drop in at the Kamp Kamp Indian Store to see if Randy and Cheri might have any leads on the double bit axe with ‘Merrill’ written on the handle. It looked to be a vintage axe – probably dating back to the 1930s or earlier, and a lot of vintage items, including axes, saws, and other tools associated with the lumbering industry passed through their hands. Randy maintained a large network of contacts throughout the state and worked both ends of the camp trade – being called in to look at old camps being sold or going through probate and selecting items to be recycled into new homes being built or renovated by his hunting camp and lake cabin customer base.
Skirting around the crowd of kids and their parents looking at tourist tchotchkes in the front room of the Kamp Kamp store, Doug found Cheri in her office staring at her computer screen, going over new orders. He had known her since he was a kid, and always enjoyed seeing her. Cheri was hard working, always moving, and always smiling and upbeat.
“How are things Cheri?”
“Oh, busy,” Cheri replied, smiling up at Doug. “It was kinda slow last week with the rain but overall it’s been a good summer so far. Can’t complain. How about you? I hear you and Beth have split up. That’s too bad, Doug. Someone else will come along.” Patting Doug on the arm and moving quickly on from a sensitive topic, Cheri asked.
“Made any progress on the Little Rick murder?”
“Well Cheri, that’s why I’m here. You’ll hear soon enough – we have another killing with an axe, and I’m wondering if by any chance you’ve seen any double-bitted axes with ‘Merrill’ written on the handle.”
“I don’t think so Doug,” Cheri replied, looking up from her computer. “But let’s ask Randy – he’s in the back room wrestling with an albino porcupine.”
Walking through the curtained doorway into the back room, Doug was once again mesmerized by the profusion of treasures that were crowded into the various alcoves and isles – taxidermied animals, snowshoes and skis, old signs, lamps, oars and paddles, fishing rods and lures, vintage clothing, dishes, chairs hanging from the rafters, rough camp furniture, primitive paintings, mounted fish…. Randy was in a back corner putting up a shelf for his newest find – a well mounted pure white porcupine with a price tag of $200. Doug laughed as he shook Randy’s hand and then pointed at the porcupine.
“Randy, is someone really going to pay that much for that?”
“Doug, you would be amazed what people will pay good money for. Last year a couple from down your way, on Sebec Lake, paid fifty bucks for a snarling stuffed opossum. I had put it under a table way in the back because it was scaring the little kids and they pulled it out, got excited about what a good deal it was, and how good it would look in their camp. It didn’t make any difference that we don’t have opossums living around here – they liked that it was scary. Said they were going to name it Satan.”
Doug shook his head and asked.
“We’ve got another axe murder and I’m trying to track down the murder weapon. Ever seen any double-bitted axes with ‘Merrill’ written on the handle?”
“A few over the years. We sold one here just a few weeks ago I think – I don’t see it now and it was right over there in the corner with the other axes.”
Turning to Cheri, Doug asked.
“Do you think you might have a receipt or credit card bill?”
“Probably not. I don’t remember the sale, and we have a lot of people working for us during the busy season. We can check the CCTV footage though – we have a camera in the back room and I think it covers the axe corner. We can set it up for you – not sure how far back it goes, but we might get lucky.”
It took several hours of looking, but Doug finally found the grainy footage of an average sized male with a slight limp and a large wide-brimmed hat, perfect for hiding his face from the camera, sorting through the axes. He hefted a double-bitted one with writing on the handle and then carried it out of view toward the front room and the cash register. Doug was about to turn off the recording when he noticed that the man had returned into view and walked back to the collection of axes in the corner. He sorted through them before picking up a second double-bitted axe and carrying both selections through the curtained doorway to the front of the store.
10.
ANNE
Friday
Anne stood in the parking lot of Spencer’s Bakery and Cafe and watched Doug’s Jeep Cherokee turn west on route 6 toward Greenville. His announcement that his marriage to Beth was over, and then their very public kiss, had still not fully registered with her. Turning back toward the restaurant she saw Kate Bishop standing at the window, watching her while talking on her phone. Anne smiled at her, shrugging her shoulders, and Kate started jumping up and down. Wondering how long it would be before she got a call from her friend June Torben asking about her and Doug, Anne walked over to her vintage green Toyota Land Cruiser and started back to the office.
As she drove down Main Street, Anne felt a profound calmness settle over her. Douglas Bateman had been married for more than a decade and during their marriage she knew that Beth had not hesitated to let him know both how unhappy she was with their life – stuck in central Maine, and how disappointed she was in him. Given a chance – and they now had that chance, Anne was confident that she and Doug could build a lasting partnership. Things were definitely looking up. There was still a lot they had to discover about each other but Anne looked forward to a slow and easy development of their relationship. Driving over the Piscataquis River bridge between Foxcroft and Dover, she mused about what she might cook for their first dinner together – maybe her favorite - crab cakes, served on the dock of her south shore cabin, under the stars. Anne’s cell phone rang, pulling her back from her daydream of crab cakes and candlelight, and she turned into the Center Theatre Coffee House parking lot to answer it.
“Hi Anne, it’s Carol Merner at the Mayo – we just got another rape victim with a brand on her hip.”
“I’m two minutes away, Carol. Meet me at the front door.”
Carol led Anne back to a conference room. Once they were seated she slid a folder across the table to her.
“Her name’s Becky Crawford. Here’s the basic info we have so far. They brought her in early this morning by ambulance from her home in Milo. She had regained consciousness by the time she arrived but was still disoriented and pretty hysterical. We were able to get permission from her to do a full sexual assault forensic exam, but she has not told us much yet or agreed to be interviewed by law enforcement.”
Opening the folder, Anne saw the photos of the brand - a “10” about the same size as the “9” that had been branded into the hip of Gayle Robertson, the first rape victim.
“Did she mention anything that you can tell me at this point?” Anne asked.
“Not really.” Carol replied. “She was pretty out of it. She’s sleeping now, and when she wakes up we’ll ask again if she would be willing to talk to you. You’ll want to review the 911 recording, though – someone called in on Becky’s phone to report a medical emergency – it could have been her assailant.
