Old World Murder - Kathleen Ernst [106]
Chloe sighed. She truly didn’t know, not really. Despite everything that had happened with Markus and the miscarriage, she’d arrived in North Dakota with at least some of her professional passion intact. The small historic site there should have been manageable. But somewhere during that dull, gray winter, she’d realized that she simply didn’t care anymore. Not about her staff’s needs, not about the visitors’ experiences. Not about anything.
Chloe took a sip of tea. She didn’t have any idea why Roelke had become a cop, but she had a feeling that words like “passion” and “joy” wouldn’t enter into the equation. So how could she explain what happened to her?
Finally she said, “It was just a thing with a guy.”
“That guy on the phone?”
“… Who? Oh, Ethan. No, he’s an old college friend. This was someone I knew in Switzerland.” Chloe shifted her weight again. “Look, Roelke, people don’t choose to be depressed. Maybe Joel did make a cowardly decision. Or maybe he was clinically depressed and beyond help. Or maybe … maybe he ended his life so Nika and his parents wouldn’t be dragged through the public ordeal of a trial. If so, I’d say that what he did took a certain amount of courage.”
Roelke ran a hand over his hair. “It’s something I simply don’t understand.”
“I hope you never do.”
For a while neither one spoke. “He saved my ass,” Roelke said finally. “I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have done last Wednesday.”
Chloe stared at him with dawning dismay. “Did you get in trouble because of me?”
“Not much.”
I am so stupid, Chloe thought.
“The chief and I had a conversation. We’re square. I lied to Waukesha County deputies, though. Twice. That would have come out in the whole trial process. But now … it’ll likely all disappear. Because there will be no trial.” Roelke scrubbed his face with his palms. “I wanted to pound the crap out of Carlisle there at the farm. Instead, I did my job. I believed he’d have to answer for his crimes in court. Now I feel cheated. And angry.”
“Well … I’m angry at him too. And I’m angry at Mrs. Lundquist. I thought she was a sweet old lady. I screwed up my job for her sake! And instead—she was a horrible racist.” Chloe looked away, thinking, And what about me? She’d wondered if a current employee at Old World might somehow be descended from Berget. But she’d never considered Nika. It wasn’t the same thing. Not at all. But still.
The back door opened and her mother emerged with a tray. “I’ve got fattigman and almond cookies,” she said, as she deposited plates and forks and napkins.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ellefson,” Roelke said.
“Kallerud,” Chloe’s mother said pleasantly. “I use my birth name. But please, just call me Marit.” She beamed at him before heading back to the house.
Roelke watched her go. “I should have seen that coming.”
“Don’t worry about it. It happens all the time.” Chloe began pleating a napkin. “Was Joel really the one behind everything?”
Roelke sighed. “Berget Lundquist mentioned the family heirloom in her letter to Carlisle. Before you started your job, he went out on site to help Nika. He was with her when she took a look around the artifact trailers. She got called away for something, and left him there. Presented with that opportunity, he decided to look for the bowl’s accession record. He ripped it out of the ledger before Nika got back. He looked in the Norwegian houses without finding it. Later he got Rupert Engel to ‘borrow’ Stanley’s key so he could take a closer look in the trailers—”
“I was nice to Rupert! And I thought he was being nice to me! He even helped me with my car.”
“Rupert and Joel Carlisle were bar buddies. Rupert mentioned your car problems to Joel that evening, but he swears he didn’t know that Joel planned to break into your house.” Roelke gave her a sideways look. “Rupert is Stanley Colontuono’s nephew.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. The kid has a long rap sheet already—”
“With Stanley egging him on, no doubt.”
“It doesn’t look that way. Rupert’s dad is out of the picture. His mother