Chat

Chapter 25

Willy Kunkle looked over the top of his magazine as Joe walked into the office the following morning.

"Heard your mom and your girlfriend saved your butt last night."

Joe laughed. "Yeah-I heard yours does the same for you all the time."

"Bullshit. She say that?"

Joe crossed the room and dropped his newspaper on his desk. "It's her constant burden-lugging you through life with minimal damage. Where is she, by the way-and Les, for that matter?"

"Doing one of your errands," Willy told him. "It's all about Leppman nowadays. Rumor also has it E. T. gave you a phone call before his Son Wonder showed up with the artillery."

Joe nodded as he poured himself some coffee. It never occurred to him to ask how Willy knew all he did so shortly after it happened. The man had his methods, after all, and his pride.

Moreover, it was an interesting point-one that had made a crucial difference in the night's outcome.

"Yeah, he did. From the sound of his voice, I think it almost killed him, but it was clear he'd had enough. I talked to Dan after the state police got there, while EMS was wrapping him up."

"What'd he say?"

"He'd come back to E. T.'s house to get an extra gun before heading out for good-didn't expect to see the old man. They had a blowout. E. T. told him we knew Andy had taken the fall for Dan. I guess Dan answered that he'd put things right by knocking me off. And that did the trick-E. T. finally saw him for what he is."

Willy tossed the magazine aside and stared into middle space. His tone surprised Joe with its gentleness. "Poor old bastard."

"You got to like him, didn't you?"

"You kidding? A ruthless, manipulative, unscrupulous alcoholic who drives what family members don't commit suicide to acts of homicidal excess? Of course I like him."

Joe was laughing. "Well, since you put it that way…"

But Willy was only half kidding. "Hey, the sins of the fathers… Maybe all of them were screwed before they drew their first breaths. God knows what E. T.'s old man was like." His tone changed slightly as he asked, "Did you ever find out if Dan rigged Leo's car?"

Joe had settled behind his desk and interrupted taking a sip of coffee to answer, "Yeah, threw it right at my mother. Said he was sorry things hadn't worked out as planned. She was great-shot right back that she was happy they had. He got her point. Later, he told me he regretted he hadn't just planted a bomb. Guy's such a winner."

The door opened, and both Les and Sam walked in, chatting.

"Hey, boss," the latter said, shucking off her coat and hanging it in the corner. "Everybody okay at home? I heard your mom's quite the shot."

"Both of them are," Joe conceded. "I asked Lyn afterward if she planned to shoot the gun out of the other guy's hand. Her comeback was, 'That's where I aimed.'"

"Ouch," Lester said. "Watch out for that one, boss."

"Turns out she used to target shoot with her father and brothers when they were kids," Joe explained. "Throw bottles into the ocean and blow them up. Not PC, but I guess a lot of fun."

Sam was already typing at her computer, checking her morning e-mails. "Useful, too, as it turns out. I can't believe the bastard attacked your house. It's like a big-city war story from the flatlands."

"Speaking of flatlanders," Joe segued, "you and Les get anything on Leppman?"

Sam looked up from the screen. "Yeah. We just drove down from Burlington this morning."

"Didn't trust our own people?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, considering how to answer that. In fact, the VBI had five offices strategically located across the state, staffed with squads like their own. That was what he'd meant when he encouraged her to bring in extra help if needed.

He interrupted her with a raised hand. "Don't worry about it, Sam. I know what it's like to share. Tell me what you got so far, instead."

She gave him a slightly embarrassed, rueful look. "Yeah, I'm a little possessive." She then pointed at Lester. "He's just as bad, though. Didn't once suggest farming this out."

"It was worth it," Spinney said defensively. "Nobody knows the case like we do." Not having all the years the other three had shared working for the Brattleboro PD, he was a little less sure of the limitations to this sort of banter.

Sam returned to the question. "It was good news, bad news, to be honest: the good part being that we got a solid picture of his activities and whereabouts; the bad being that, as a result, we couldn't put him in Bratt on the dates of either killing."

Joe scowled slightly. "No doubts?"

"Not much," she admitted. "We got the right judge, which got us access to Leppman's phone records and credit card receipts. We talked to neighbors, a package delivery driver who handed him something on one of the days, a few other people we found out about. All this was on the q.t.-not that he won't find out eventually-but every time, we came up empty for both dates."

"And it wasn't just the timing," Lester added. "We asked about his demeanor, too. I mean, I know he's a shrink, but they all said he's been fine-upbeat and cheery, just like he was when I was with him. No signs of stress at all."

"What about the phone records?" Joe asked. "Anything stick out there?"

Sam shook her head. "Nope. And sure as hell nothing to Pennsylvania or Waterbury or anything as easy as that. It was like taking apart Mr. Average Joe Citizen."

"You interview the vet?"

"Yup," Spinney answered. "Followed up on that phone call I made back when. What the stable lady told me was right-Leppman does like to hang out and ask questions-but the vet said he never thought anything about it, that Leppman never asked him any leading questions about overdosing or lethal chemicals, or even anything about fentanyl or DMSO."

"They use those, by the way," Sammie interjected. "But nothing's gone missing from their stock."

"What about the wife and daughter?" Joe asked. "Pardon my prejudice, but when I hear horses, I hear more their gender than Leppman's. Did they hang around the vet at all, or visit the stables?"

"No on the first," Sam told him, "but yes on the second. They both ride, but neither of them seems to have Leppman's curiosity about everything. In fact, a stable girl we talked to said none of them really liked the women that much-thought they were kind of snotty."

Joe let out a sigh. "All right, so, right now, all three are a wash."

" 'Fraid so."

"What else?"

"We met with Matt Aho and really went through his list of possibles," Les volunteered, trying to sound helpful.

"You get anything?" Willy asked.

Sam answered from her desk. "Could be." She sat back to explain. "We not only ran Aho through the wringer, trying to get him to remember anything he could, but we also chased after most of the people he'd highlighted, just in case one of them might've seen something."

"What we found," Spinney picked up, "maybe falls into the category of pure dumb luck. The day Leppman came to visit, he had an escort from their patrol division-not for security, since they considered him an insider, but to introduce him to a couple of people he didn't know."

"Richard Lloyd's his name," Sam resumed. "But he wasn't there when we were, so I left a message that we'd like to have a chat." She tapped her computer screen. "I just got an e-mail from him that he's in the office right now if we want to talk to him."

She looked questioningly at Joe.

"Go for it," he urged, his frustration mounting.

She reached for the phone, dialed the number, and hit the speaker button. In less than a minute, they all heard a young man's voice fill the room.

"Hello, this is Officer Lloyd."

"This is Special Agent Sam Martens of the Vermont Bureau of Investigation, Officer Lloyd," she said in her official voice. "You're on speaker phone, just so you know, and you and I are not alone."

"Okay" was the hesitant reply.

"A few weeks ago, you escorted a man named John Leppman while he was visiting your PD, is that correct?"

"Sure," said Lloyd, some of the tension easing in his voice. "He had to meet with a bunch of people, like the chief, somebody from accounting, and a couple of the detectives. I guess it was the deputy chief who didn't want him to get lost in the building."

"And how did that go?" Sam asked leadingly.

"Good. Fine. He met who he was supposed to meet, and then he left."

"You were with him the whole time?"

"Yeah. Never left his side."

"What kinds of things did he do there?"

"I didn't get it all. It was computer stuff. He helps out catching people through the Internet, so some of it was case related, some of it was schmoozing-like with the chief-and the accounting part was so he could get paid back for something. I don't really know what that was."

"How would you describe his demeanor during the visit?"

"He was cool. A nice guy. Relaxed, friendly. I didn't pick up on anything wrong."

"He never tried to ditch you, however subtly, like with a sudden trip to the bathroom?"

Lloyd thought back for a moment before answering. "No. He was only there for a little over an hour. Guess he never got the urge."

"And you didn't, either?"

"Nope. Just his daughter."

There was a sudden silence in the room.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi," Joe said, speaking for the first time. "This is Agent Gunther. Leppman had his daughter with him?"

"Yeah."

"And she did go to the bathroom?"

"Right-once."

"She asked to do that shortly after you passed the supply room, is that correct?"

Now, the pause was on Lloyd's part, as he assimilated the question and its possible meanings. "Yeah-I think it was. How did you know that?"

"It connects to something we're looking into. What was she like? Wendy, right?"

"Yeah-Wendy. Gee, I don't know. Nice enough lady-a little older than me… kind of wired. She laughed a lot, talked too much. I remember her father asking if she was all right."

"What did she say?"

"Just that she was in a really good mood. She seemed more nervous to me."

"And after she got back from the bathroom?" Sammie asked.

"Kind of the same."

"She carrying a bag or purse?"

"Purse."

"And she kept that with her at all times?" Joe asked.

"Yeah."

"Officer Lloyd," Joe continued. "This is important. Think back and tell us if her body language concerning the purse was any different after her trip to the bathroom."

There was a thoughtful hesitation before the young cop said, "She wore it slung across her body when she came back. And it was slid forward, so that it rested less to her side and more across her stomach."

"Great," Joe told him. "You're really good at this. One last question: Did anything at all happen when the three of you passed the supply room?"

"Not really."

"What's that mean?"

"Well," Lloyd answered, "neither one of them did anything, but I noticed that the door was open and Aho was gone."

"Nothing was said?"

"I might've said, 'Huh-wonder where Matt is?' or something like that. It surprised me, 'cause Matt's a real stickler about keeping that area secure."

"The Leppmans didn't say anything?"

"He asked me what the room was, and I told him, but that was it."

"Could you see anything through the open door?" Sam asked him.

They could almost hear him shrug over the phone. "Usual junk-ticket books, pads, a few Taser cartridges, bundles of those plastic envelopes they use for parking tickets, maybe some pens." He thought some more. "I don't know. There might've been a couple of those Cordura equipment pouches, like for cuffs or OC spray, for our duty belts. Guys are always asking for things like that."

Joe glanced around the room to see if anyone had any more questions. "Okay, Officer Lloyd. Appreciate your time. This has been a big help."

"Sure. My pleasure."

The line went dead and Sam hit the Disconnect button on the phone console.

"No question Wendy swiped the cartridge," she said before asking rhetorically, "but was Dad in on it?"

Joe was staring at the floor, buried in thought. "We better find out," he responded, adding, "and I'm not so sure I'm going to like the answer. Something's making me think maybe Leppman's used his daughter for more than just that Taser cartridge."

"What d'you mean?" Willy wanted to know.

"Something Hillstrom discovered," Joe answered him. "Remember? She said the chemicals that killed Nashman were mixed in with a cookie he'd just eaten."

"Yeah?"

"Well, how does that fit? The guy checks in, takes his two key cards, goes to the room, sticks one of the keys to the outside of the door in an envelope, and waits for his date. Where's the cookie come in?"

"With the date," Lester said simply.

"I'm not gonna open my door to you, big fellah," Willy told him, seeing Joe's point. "Not if you're carrying a goddamn cake with candles."

Sam and Lester looked at him.

"He's a guy," Willy said with eyes wide. "I'm expecting a girl, for Christ's sake."

"My point exactly," Joe said with a smile. "But there's more. He is expecting a girl-a young girl. And what he sees walking through the door-which is why there had to be a key outside, or he might not have let her in-is a woman in her twenties."

"Bummer number one," Willy chimed in, playing Joe's second fiddle.

"Correct," Joe resumed. "So, she's got some seductive one-liner or something to stall him, and a cookie as a peace offering. He eats because that's what you do for a pretty girl when she's caught you off balance."

"And then you die," Willy concluded. "Bummer number two."

"Which," Sam suggested, dragging out the word for emphasis, "now means you have a one-hundred-and-ninety-pound body on your hands."

"So what?" Willy asked. "Nashman wasn't moved."

Sam laughed. "Exactly. Metz was. Why? Same basic m.o., same motive, same people."

"Because with Metz, you had more than one person in on it," Joe suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed. "So, who was stuck alone with Nashman?"

He looked up at them. "I think it's time for that chat with the Leppmans."