Lost & Found - Jacqueline Sheehan [64]
She knocked at the open door, although she doubted anyone could hear her above the racket. She stepped inside and headed for the source of the noise. A blond-haired man with a flannel shirt hollered to someone, “All these cabinets got to come out. That Dumpster is leaving in two days, get the lead out!”
“Excuse me,” said Rocky.
The carpenter whirled around. “Hey, I didn’t know anyone was there. I don’t suppose you brought us hot coffee and a late lunch?” he asked.
He was built low to the ground, thick arms and legs. His boots had a stout two-inch heel and Rocky suspected that without them, she would be taller than he was.
“Sorry, I’m not the lunch lady. I have possession of the last owner’s dog. I’m the Animal Control Warden from Peak’s Island. Elizabeth Townsend owned this house, didn’t she?”
“She used to. Then she sold it, and she must have rented it from the new owners for a couple months. People do that a lot if they need extra financing time on the other end of things. So what can I help you with?” He held a small, claw-headed crowbar in his right hand.
“I’m not sure. Her dog is in my care and I need to place him in the best home. Her parents are meeting me tomorrow to get the dog, but I don’t have a really great feeling about them. Did you find anything, I don’t know, that stands out to you?” Rocky knew this sounded too vague.
“All I can tell you is that she killed herself and unfortunately, she wasn’t found for close to a month,” he said. “After the police left, a crew that specializes in that kind of thing had to come in. They’re the ones who clean up after a messy death. That was news to me, cleaning crews who specialize in homicides and suicides. How would you like that for your job? Anyhow, then the parents came up here and took a couple of things, pictures I think, that’s what the present owners said, then we were hired to gut this place. They’re thinking of selling it. No one wants to live in a house where someone committed suicide,” he said.
“Did you know her?” asked Rocky.
“No. I heard she was a university type. Hung out there, taking classes. We have to finish emptying out this place; you got anything in particular that you’re looking for? I can’t see how I can help you.”
“Could I just look around the house?”
“For what? We’re down to the walls and floors upstairs. We only have the main floor left for demolition. What did you say that you did?”
“Animal Control Warden. When you were throwing stuff out, did you find anything that made you stop? Anything that had to do with a dog?” Rocky said.
“Nothing about a dog. I did save something, though. She had sawed right through a bow-and-arrow rig. Nice too. Didn’t know what it was at first, then I started putting it together like a puzzle. She sawed it all up into pieces about three inches long and stacked it in neat little piles right on the kitchen table. But I already gave that to her old boyfriend. He came around the other day and I figured it meant something to him. Couldn’t hurt to give it to him. He looked pretty broken up.”
She remembered the man at the convenience store parking lot in Portland, the one who sent Cooper into a fit just by getting out of his truck. She remembered his strut and the way he had slammed the door on his SUV with enough energy to rock the vehicle.
“Did he say anything else?” she asked.
“No, just that he had lived here for a while during the summer, and they split up,” he said.
“What was he driving?” asked Rocky.
“Some kind of dark rig. It was almost quitting time when he got here, too dark to really see what it was,” he said.
When it looked like there was nothing left that the carpenter wanted to say to Rocky about the state of the house or any visitors, she asked if she could look through the downstairs rooms. He had already told her that everything had been stripped from the upstairs.
“Don’t fall down and hurt yourself,” he said.
Rocky caught the sudden tone, the inflection, that he had been unable