And We Shall Have Snow Page 20

  Brian Donohue had arrived from Winnipeg, eager to hear the latest developments and to interview Leo Isbister later that afternoon.

  “He’ll be done by three. I’ll go sit in on the meeting and pick him up when he’s finished.”

  “Kathy Isfeld says the room will be full,” said Izzy. “You’d better get there early if you want a seat.”

  Roxanne was happy to pass on the meeting. She had been around small prairie towns long enough to know that these could go on longer than expected, and this one was going to be contentious. Many local tradespeople would welcome a new development and the jobs it would bring. New buildings meant more revenue for the town. But the project involved draining some of the wetlands and the environmental lobby would be out in full force to defend the health of the lake, which relied on the wetlands to filter the water that fed it.

  On the other hand, Roxanne had made the first contact with Leo Isbister. She’d been keen to continue that line of investigation herself. Now that it was happening on her turf, she wanted back in on that interview.

  “I’ve got questions I’d like to ask him,” she said, looking up from her laptop.

  Brian glanced up at her. “Email them to me,” he said, “and I’ll ask him.”

  So he didn’t want her sitting in on the interview? What was that about? Did he want to take the credit for the Isbister lead for himself and cut her out of that part of the investigation? So much for teamwork and collaboration. He really was ambitious. Getting something on Isbister would probably score him points with their bosses. It could help him get that promotion he wanted. Izzy cut across her line of thinking.

  “Hey,” she said from the window. “Mo Penner and the Keenan guy just drove up beside the Timmie’s. And Erik Axelsson’s right behind them in his truck.”

  “Really?” Roxanne crossed over to look. Matt was close behind. “When did he get out of the hospital? Shouldn’t he still be recovering?” They watched Erik swing out of the truck and follow Mo and Keenan into the shop.

  “It looks like there’s nothing wrong with him,” said Matt.

  Izzy had pulled out her phone. “Bet he’s back at Roberta’s. I’ll call my mom. She’ll know.”

  “Would he have known he had a daughter before this?” asked Brian.

  “He must have,” said Roxanne. “He’d have known there was a baby, anyway, even if Stella didn’t acknowledge him as the father.”

  Izzy ended her call. “Roberta brought him home yesterday. He’s living back at the farm. Roberta must be so pissed off if she knows about Mo.”

  “Could Roberta have known about her before this and killed Stella?” asked Brian. “Does she have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

  Izzy looked dismayed. She really didn’t want Roberta to be guilty, but this time she didn’t protest.

  “I’ll go and ask her,” said Roxanne. Brian Donohue still sat at the table working on his own computer. She was glad to have a reason to get out of the office. “And, Matt, go down there and keep an eye on the coffee shop. Bring Erik in here when he’s done talking. Hold him until I get back.”

  “I can interview him,” said Brian.

  “It’s okay. You don’t want to be late for that meeting.” Roxanne smiled sweetly, then followed Matt to the stairs. “You take care of Isbister and I’ll deal with this.”

  Roberta Axelsson looked frustrated when she saw Roxanne on her doorstep. Her face was red and her hair was dishevelled but she appeared more annoyed than upset.

  “What are you here for?” She stood in the half-open doorway.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Erik’s not here,” said Roberta. “It’s him you want to talk to, right?”

  “No. It’s you.”

  “Oh, great. Come on in then.” She opened the door wide and walked down the hallway. “Hang up your coat and help yourself to a pair of slippers,” she called behind her. “I suppose I’d better make more tea.”

  Roxanne looked at the basket of hand-knitted slippers. They were not her style, but she thought she’d better comply. She chose the least bright pair and padded into the kitchen. A pot bubbled on the stove. It smelled like chicken soup.

  “If you’re here to tell me about Erik’s misbegotten daughter, you’re too late. She’s been here already.” Roberta reached for the teapot. “What do you take in your tea?”

  “Black’s good. You didn’t know about her?”

  “Me? No. Last to know. Isn’t that always the case? Have a seat. Do you like goat cheese?”

  She reached into the fridge, brought out a bowl and indicated a chair at the table.

  “You didn’t know that he was involved with Stella Magnusson years ago? When they first knew each other?”

  “No, how would I?” She bustled around the kitchen, put bread on the table and sliced it up. Roxanne watched how expertly she wielded the bread knife. “Some people go off their food when bad stuff happens. Not me. I just get hungry. Eat up, Corporal.”

  She slathered butter on a slice of bread, put it on a plate and added a large spoonful of creamy white cheese. “I just made that yesterday.” It wasn’t what Roxanne ought to be eating, but she reached for the plate. A friendly chat at the kitchen table might yield results.

  “She must have just been a kid,” Roberta continued. “What was he thinking of? And he gets her pregnant and then what? He doesn’t marry her, does he? She has to go away and have the baby by herself and get it adopted. Poor Stella. I never thought I’d ever say that.” She bit into a mouthful of bread and cheese.

  “She put the baby up for adoption. Then she was able to get on with the rest of her life.”

  “No thanks to Erik.” Roberta’s mouth was still full of food. “You know what, Corporal? He’s just plain useless. I’ve kicked him out. Again. This time it’s for good. I don’t want to have anything more to do with him. I’m getting a divorce.”

  “When did you find out about Mo?”

  “She came here, looking for him. Her and the boyfriend. God, she looks like Stella.”

  “Where will Erik go? Does he have any other family? In Winnipeg?”

  “Sure. He has a couple of kids, both grown. But they won’t have anything to do with him. He treated their mother badly. Real bad. Drank too much back then. You know what, I’ll bet he married her on the rebound from Stella.”

  “He was drinking when he met you?”

  “He went to AA. He’s been going ever since and he’s been okay. Stayed off it all these years.”

  “And you two always got along?”

  “I thought so. Stupid me. He must have been mad about Stella the whole time. His other wife and me, we were just second best.” Her face drooped but then she held her head back up. “So we’re done, me and Erik Axelsson. Too handsome for his own good, that’s Erik, Corporal. He gets away with murder, that’s his problem.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Never said that, did I?”

  Roxanne had no doubt that Roberta Axelsson was telling what she believed to be the truth. Mo’s existence had been a surprise to her.

  “What will you do now?” she asked. “We’re going to need to know where you are for the time being.”

  “We’ll have to sell this place, but meantime I’m staying put. I’m not letting him move back in.”

  “You’re going to be here alone?” Roxanne wondered how safe that was, if Erik got drunk again.

  “No. My daughter Lizzie’s coming out, soon as she’s finished work. She’s staying all weekend. Bringing the grandkids.” So she’d have company for now. “Mike Little is Erik’s best friend. If you’re looking for him, he’ll probably know where he is.”

  Roxanne took her leave. “The bread and cheese was delicious,” she said. It was. It had reminded her of being at her grandmother’s farm when she was little. She took out a card and gave it to Roberta. “My cellphone numbe
r is on this,” she said. “You need me, you call, right away.” It wouldn’t hurt to be on the safe side. Roberta had come to the door with her and was pulling on a jacket.

  “I’m going to go talk to my goats,” she said as she stomped off towards the barn. Roxanne checked her phone before she drove away. There was a text from Brian.

  Leo Isbister at Tim Hortons. Will check.

  She drove back to Fiskar Bay, fast.

  22

  Roxanne arrived in time to see Mo Magnusson and her boyfriend, Keenan, leaving the coffee shop. Their rusty Fiesta was parked at the roadside. Roxanne pulled up right in front of it.

  “Hey, you looking for my dad too? You missed him.” Mo flashed a silver-studded grin as she opened the passenger door. “Can you move your car out of the way? I’ve got to get to get to Winnipeg in time for work.”

  Roxanne looked past her. She could see Brian Donohue and Matt Stavros crossing the parking lot. So they’d lost track of Erik Axelsson? Both of them avoided looking at her as they walked briskly towards the RCMP building. She got back into her car and pulled it forward so Mo and Keenan could drive out. Mo gave her a cheery wave as she passed. Roxanne caught up to Brian and Matt upstairs in their office. Matt appeared sheepish but Brian was unapologetic.

  “Hey, it happens,” he said. “He went out the back door, to go to the bank. We came in the other way.”

  The bank was across the street. Roxanne noticed Izzy reach for her phone. Calling Roberta? How much money could Erik Axelsson access?

  “Isbister had shown up and Erik took off right away,” Matt added, trying to placate her. “At least that’s what Mo says. Didn’t want to spend time with him.”

  Roxanne was not going to be appeased. “So why did both of you have to go into the coffee shop?”

  “Isbister and Axelsson were both there. My decision,” Brian said, dismissively authoritarian. He sounded annoyed. That was fine by her. She was thoroughly pissed off. And she had thought he was attractive?

  “Except Axelsson wasn’t yours. He was mine. Why didn’t one of you keep an eye on the truck? Matt, I told you to watch out for him.”

  “Bad timing,” Brian answered instead. “Axelsson must have got to his truck while we went into the shop for coffee. We were looking the other way.”

  “So he’s gone. And now he’s out there with cash in his pocket.”

  Izzy got up and reached for her parka. “He could have gone to Mike Little’s. I know where he lives. Hey, Matt. Let’s go find him. We’ll check the bars if he’s not there.”

  They disappeared off down the stairs, leaving Roxanne and Brian alone. The phone rang. It was Roberta, calling back. Erik had emptied most of their joint account. He’d walked off with almost a couple of thousand bucks.

  “Did you not think, Roberta? Couldn’t you have transferred some into your own account?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

  “Lizzie took the afternoon off. She’ll be here soon. Not to worry, I know how to handle Erik.”

  “Lock your doors, Roberta.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be fine.” She hung up.

  Brian was leaning against a wall, arms folded. “So he’s out there drowning his sorrows with a buddy. Nothing illegal about that.”

  “He’s recovering from a head injury and he gets violent when he’s drunk.”

  “So, tell Gilchrist. He can handle it. It’s not our problem, is it? We’ve got a murder to solve. Why are you wasting time on a small-town drunk that we know has an alibi? Did the wife have anything to do with it?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Well then. And there’s Angus Smith. Did they even know him? They don’t live near Cullen Village. Erik Axelsson has nothing to do with the murders. This line of investigation is dead. Give it up. I’m going to go and get some lunch before this planning committee meeting.”

  That was her told. He was team commander, after all. That was an oxymoron. All command and no questions asked. So much for teamwork. He turned on his heel to leave. She spoke to his back.

  “I want in on that interview,” she said. “Sir.” If he wanted protocol, he could have it. “If I’m the investigator on this case, I need to know what Isbister has to say.”

  “No problem.” Suddenly the hostility evaporated. He relaxed, actually smiled, back to his good-looking self. “Come along to the meeting if you like. I’ll buy you lunch first.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, refusing to be charmed. She needed to skip lunch anyway, after what she’d eaten at Roberta’s. “I’ll be here when you bring Isbister back for questioning.”

  Once he was gone, she looked at the whiteboard on the wall. Brian was right that this was a dead end, but so many leads in this case were. The Andreychuks, George Smedley, they all led nowhere. Isbister was interesting. He might know something about Stella Magnusson’s money, but he’d been out of the country at the time of the murder. It was another watertight alibi. She sat and stared at the board, running different scenarios in her head. Something was missing, some vital bit of the puzzle. She couldn’t figure out what it might be.

  Kathy Isfeld excused herself from her desk at 1:45 precisely. She returned an hour later. The meeting that was predicted to take all afternoon had lasted exactly twenty-two minutes. The lake support group had been out in full force, with placards and photographs that described how the new development would damage the lake’s ecosystem. They’d packed the seats in the chamber. She’d seen Sergeant Donohue there, sitting in the back row. She’d found a space just in front of him. She didn’t think he’d recognized her out of the office.

  Leo Isbister had been introduced. Everyone waited to hear his pitch. He didn’t deliver. He agreed with the ecologists, he said. They should protect the wetlands. He wanted them to know that he was a progressive developer, one who listened to the community’s concerns, who took the needs of all stakeholders into account. And in this case, he had decided that Isbister Homes should withdraw its application for development and respect the natural habitat. He hoped they would be able to do business at some point in the future, but as of now he had no plans for development in the area. He thanked them for their attention.

  “All the lake supporters cheered,” said Kathy in her tiny voice. “It was quite exciting. A lot of the guys who have businesses around town aren’t too pleased. You could tell by the looks on their faces.”

  “Guess they’ll be over here real soon then,” said Sergeant Gilchrist. “Him and Sergeant Donohue.”

  “Here?” Kathy had taken up her usual position at her computer. “They’re not coming here. They’ve gone to the hotel.”

  “What?” Roxanne couldn’t believe it. She reached for her phone. There was nothing from Brian. A text from Izzy said that Erik Axelsson had been at Mike Little’s house earlier but Alice, Mike’s wife, had insisted he leave. She and Matt were checking the bars. No luck so far.

  “Leo Isbister’s lawyer spoke to Sergeant Donohue after the meeting,” Kathy whispered. “I was standing right there. He asked him to meet them in the lounge at the hotel at three.”

  It took Roxanne ten minutes to get out of the building, into her car and down to the hotel. She found Leo Isbister comfortably ensconced in an armchair beside a blazing log fire, a bowl of nuts on the table in front of him. He’d ordered whisky. The hotel’s selection of malts was limited. Glenlivet would have to do. Brian sat on one side of him and on the other was a man wearing an impeccable tan-coloured suit, a pale yellow shirt with a lilac tie. His soft leather briefcase sat on the table in front of him. Any surprise they had at seeing her was quickly suppressed, especially by Brian.

  “Well, well, the gang’s all here,” said Leo. He introduced the third man as Ivan Gregory, his lawyer. Of course he was. Sleek and foxy. “Have anything you like, Corporal. Ivan’s sticking to a soda. He�
��s driving. And your buddy here’s having a Coke, since he’s on duty. I guess you are too.”

  Leo sniffed the malt and sipped it, looking smug. A server hovered. Roxanne ordered a mineral water. Gregory searched his briefcase for some papers and looked at them over the top of gold-rimmed reading glasses.

  “I act on behalf of Mr. Isbister and his company, but Ms. Stella Magnusson was also a client.” Gregory laid an envelope on the table. “She invested in a real estate company. Central Holdings. They own rental properties around the city. These papers will provide you with the details.”

  Brian opened the envelope, glanced at the contents and passed them to Roxanne. A bottom-line figure of just over $1,685,000 jumped out at her.

  “Central Holdings is a subsidiary of Isbister Homes?” Brian asked.

  “No, Sergeant. Definitely not. It’s a separate enterprise. Mr. Isbister’s finances in no way connect to those of Ms. Magnusson.”

  Roxanne’s drink appeared at her elbow. “So she was using this company to launder money?” Was that why the bosses in Winnipeg were so interested in Isbister? Was Brian involved in a related investigation?

  “All our dealings with Ms. Magnusson were legitimate,” said the lawyer.

  “See,” Leo drawled from the depths of his armchair, “Stella had money when she came back from the States, from when she was married to Freddie Santana. Divorce settlement and some other stuff. She used some to fix up the house. And she asked me where she could put the rest. I sent her to Ivan here.”

  “Her investment paid off,” the lawyer added. “She did well from it. It’s built up over the years.”

  “And she added to it?”

  “She did. When she could.” Leo swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. “Stella had a head for business. Smart girl.”

  “So why is there no will?” Roxanne asked.

  “Ah, but there is.” Ivan Gregory produced another envelope, Houdini-like. He slid it across the table. “Your copy. She left the bulk of her estate to her daughter, Ariel Star Magnusson, a.k.a. Maureen Penner. There’s a small bequest to Mr. Isbister here, for all his help. That’s all. It’s very clear. I am her executor.”