Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods Read Free Page B

Buster.”
    “Lenny, I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, my gaze shifting from him to chunky Stan who bulldozed past the deputy at the front door and disappeared inside. My heart should go out to both brothers. It didn’t, and I could not understand why. I usually have empathy for people. I cry at sad movies, happy ones, too, and although I keep it to myself, there are a few commercials that touch my heart.
    Why the plight of these nephews left me feeling nothing, I’m not sure. They had just lost a relative. Was I being judgmental based on their appearance? If that were so, how shallow of me. Shaking the judgmental thoughts from my head, I stepped off to the side, and watched. From this angle I noticed that Lenny’s face seemed free of expression. Maybe it meant nothing, I thought, giving him the benefit of the doubt. People react differently to catastrophic events.
    Nick moved away to talk on the radio.
    Lenny leaned against his truck, seemingly at ease with the situation. I watched him carefully, studied his body language for signs of anxiety. His breathing was even, his body still. He reminded me a teenager trying to be cool. Whether this was an act or not, I had no idea.
    Those judgmental thoughts rocketed back into my head and took another tour. Maybe he didn’t like his uncle. That would explain it. Lots of people didn’t like their relatives.
    That made me think of Mom’s cousin. I could hear my mother’s scolding voice as clear as yesterday.
    Nora, his new wife is a paragon, a wonderful woman, but as usual you jump to conclusions based on the shallowest of reasons. Just because she wore spike heels and a mink wrap? How absurd. How petty. You just met the woman .
    It was more than her shoes and wrap, although that’s the reason I’d given. I was a kid and couldn’t think of anything better. I didn’t understand gut feelings. A few years later, the paragon took him to the cleaners financially. It was hush, hush. My mother never said a word about it.
    I felt it now, the gut feeling.
    Nick joined Lenny and told him what we knew, which wasn’t much.
    Minutes later Stan returned. He hitched up the jeans that looped under his big belly and shook his head. “Terrible thing. And him in such good shape, and all. Always took care of hisself. Uncle Buster exercised and lifted weights. He never ate ice cream that I seen. Wouldn’t even have it in the house. Raises the cholesterol, you know. He didn’t want to have a heart attack like his father, but I guess he did.”
    “Shut up, Stan. Who cares about that now?” Lenny muttered as he toed an embedded stone with the tip of his alligator boot. “The thing is he’s gone and we’re sad about that. Period.”
    I tried not to stare at the boots. I’d never seen an overlay of red and gold flames on alligator boots before. I’d never seen boots with attitude and a truck to match. Hunh. He turned slightly and I noticed his heels were flaming, too. Double hunh.
    No tears were shed by either man.
    “He loved his home,” Stan said, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s sad he has to leave it.”
    “It’s a very nice house,” I said, trying for a connection. “I love the way the deck wraps around.”
    “The body will go to the morgue for autopsy,” Nick informed them. “It’ll probably be a few days before you can pick it up and arrange the funeral.”
    “Military funeral,” Stan said. “He was a Marine, you know.”
     
     
    By early afternoon I was on my way to Vivian’s house, less than two and a half minutes away. I called my brother Howie, a Miami-Dade cop, and presented a thumbnail sketch of the latest from Silver Stream.
    “Nora, you’ve been in Maine two months and this is the second body you’ve found. Do you notice a pattern here?”
    “Oh, gee, not at all.”
    “Maybe it’s my law-enforcement background that enables me to zero in?”
    “You have a keen sense of the obvious, that’s for sure.”
    “I hope you intend to stay out