Cold River - Carla Neggers [99]
“How well did you know him?”
“Not well at all. He stopped by once when I was raking leaves down by the road after we first bought this place. Now that I think about it, he must have been building his cabin then. I imagine he was on his way to the north side of Cameron Mountain.”
“What did you talk about?”
“He just said hello and welcomed us to Black Falls.”
Lowell Whittaker came up the walk from the turnaround, in boots, not on snowshoes or skis. Sean assumed he’d taken the road down from the farmhouse. He was bundled up against the elements. He peeled a scarf off his lower face. “I do believe it’s going to snow tonight,” he said cheerfully. “Not a major storm, but even a dusting would freshen up the landscape. How are you, Sean? I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“He’s asking about Bowie,” his wife said.
Sean didn’t correct her. Her husband said, “I saw his van at Four Corners on my way to your sister’s house after I’d run an errand in the village. I think he must have been cleaning up the mess at the crypt. Everything seemed perfectly normal.”
“Why did you go to Rose’s?” Sean asked.
“She’s been educating me on dogs. Hannah came by not long after I arrived. She and Rose talked, but I was busy with Ranger. What a remarkable animal.”
“I wouldn’t want a golden retriever,” Vivian said. “Too much hair, and they even look friendly.”
Lowell ignored her. “What else can we do for you, Sean? Anything?”
“No, nothing,” Sean said, and got out of there, the wind fierce now.
On his way back along the river, he ran into a blinding snow squall that dissipated by the time he arrived in the village. The café was closed, but all the lights were on in the dining room. He pulled into the driveway next to Hannah’s car and went in through the mudroom, its door unlocked. He knocked on the kitchen door before entering.
Dominique was alone, standing by the stove. She looked up at him from the giant pot she was stirring. “You’re back,” she said, visibly pale. “I hope that’s a good thing. Hannah’s in the cellar. She was checking on Bowie’s work on the leak. Scott Thorne just left.”
Sean eased her spoon out of her slender hand, set it on the counter and took her by the shoulders. “Dominique,” he said. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Hannah found the café’s petty-cash jar. It was tucked in among the old canning jars in the cellar. Sean…” She blinked rapidly and took a breath, calming herself. “I don’t know how much more I can take. How much more any of us can take.”
“The jar?”
“There was no money in it. It’s just…a jar.” She smiled halfheartedly. “And here I am in shock over a stupid empty jar.”
“You’re experiencing a sense of violation. Someone came into your kitchen and took the jar and the money in order to frame an eighteen-year-old kid.”
“What if it wasn’t one of those killers? Sean, what if—” She pulled away from him, grabbed her spoon and stuck it back in her chili pot. “I don’t even want to think what I’m thinking.”
Sean could guess what it was—that Devin had stolen the money from the lodge, the café and Nora Asher’s apartment, after all, and Kyle Rigby had only capitalized on what was already going on in Black Falls.
He left her and headed down the steep, dimly lit cellar stairs. He found Hannah crouched down by the shelves of old canning jars. Bowie had pulled out the old stones where water was getting in and had neatly piled them on the floor for later repointing. He’d obviously discovered more rot in a section of wall above the foundation and had cleaned it out, heaping that mess onto a sheet of plastic.
Start one repair in an old house, find more repairs to do.
“Hello again,” Hannah said, her voice distant, the shock of her discovery evident. She got onto her knees, opening up the old trunk she’d moved to make room for Bowie. “Since I don’t own the building or hang out in the cellar, I’ve never bothered checking to see what’s inside—just as I never dug through all the canning jars down here.”
“I talked to Dominique,” Sean said.