Code 61 - Donald Harstad [134]
“Whoa.” I was impressed. “That's not a public park, then?”
“No, that's the lawn. About three hundred yards of lakefront lawn. And it runs back to the highway at least that far. With a big stone wall, and a huge iron gate. You won't be able to miss it when you go by.”
“I'm impressed,” said Hester. “What does Mr. Hunley do, to be able to afford a four-story home like that?”
“It's Mrs. Bridgett Hunley,” said our waitress. “She's a widow. I don't think she does anything, really. My brother works for their landscaper. Full-time job, mowing that lawn and taking care of the grounds. All summer and into the fall. I'm not kidding. Every day but Sunday. Eight hours a day. Three of them working.”
As she left our table, we exchanged glances. “Holy shit,” said Harry, in as close to a sotto voce as he was capable of assuming, “maintenance on that sucker must cost close to a hundred thousand a year.”
“God bless waitresses,” said Hester. “Carl, why don't you leave a nice tip?”
About halfway through the second coffee, a thin, balding man dressed in slacks and a sweater came toward our table. Harry stood, and greeted him. “Guys,” he said, “this is Jimmy Hawkins, the best detective in this end of the state.” He introduced us.
After the waitress brought Hawkins a cup of coffee, Harry gave him the ten-cent brief, including both murders, some details, the window peeking incident, and the disappearance of Alicia.
Hawkins listened very intently. “Glad those aren't my cases,” he said, when Harry had ffnished. “I just wish they weren't connected to my town. So, what can I do for you?”
“We need a little background,” said Hester.
“On Jessica Hunley, for instance,” I said.
Hawkins told us a lot. Jessica was something of a ffxture in the community, and a welcome one. She did lots of charity work, arts oriented, and spent a lot of time working on community projects that furthered music and dance. She was well known, and highly regarded. There was nothing, as far as he knew, that had ever indicated she might have any criminal involvement of any sort.
“Besides,” he said, “her Aunt Bridgett Hunley would have a fit if she thought Jessica was into anything that might damage the family reputation.”
Bridgett Hunley was a “mega-millionaire,” according to Hawkins. He looked very serious, and said, “I mean 'mega,' too. Really one of the wealthiest women going.”
Jessica lived with her Aunt Bridgett. We sort of knew that already. “I understand she might have taken ill recently,” I said.
“I hadn't heard that, but I'll check,” he said. “She's always struck me as being healthy as a horse.”
“And that,” I said, indicating the four-story building across the lake, “is her house?”
“Yeah, it is. Good size, isn't it? There are about a hundred places with about that much property, or more, around here,” said Hawkins. “But that's the biggest house. Well, the biggest stone house, I should say. Lots of the upper crust from Chicago, years ago, discovered Lake Geneva. People like Wrigley, and Marshall Field, and people like that. Large money. They built summer homes here.”
“That's not a summer home?”
“Not today. But it was in the twenties.” He sipped his coffee. “Today, I think Bridgett and Jessica own four or five places, in fact. But this is the main place.”
“How did they make their money, do you know?” asked Hester.
“Meat packing and railroads, I think. And one of their ancestors married into lumber, as well.” He held his cup up in a “toast” gesture. “Here's to diversification.”
“It's going to be a little intimidating just going to the door for an interview,” I said.
“You can probably find Jessica at her studio during the day,” he said. “That's right at the end of the lake, here, in Lake Geneva. Got a map?”
I was disappointed, I have to admit. I'd had hopes of getting inside the estate.
Hawkins smiled. “Unless you'd care to wait until this evening.” My disappointment must have showed.
“No, that's okay. Some things are just best left to the imagination.” But I felt pretty certain that the residents of the Mansion in Nation County had been