Hanna was in scrubs, waiting as Ray came through the emergency entrance. “I just talked to the radiologist. The CT scan is unremarkable. They sedated Tom for the scan. He’s awake now, but remains quite subdued. His mother is with him. He’s been admitted for observation and most likely will be released in the morning.” She chuckled.
“What?” asked Ray.
“I was in the room when Tom started to become aware of his surroundings. He kept looking at me with this confused expression. Finally he said, “You really are a doctor.”
35
Shortly before 9:00 A.M. Ray slowly rolled through the three-block long business district of the Harbor Village. Most of the brick buildings lining both sides of the street were constructed after the great fire of 1906. Once a thriving mercantile hub for farmers, lumbermen, and sailors, the stores now catered to the tourist trade with windows filled with t-shirts, sandals, summer frocks, and regional art—seascapes in oil and watercolors. The summer people and tourists were already filling the streets, heading to the coffee shops, the bakery, and restaurants in search of breakfast.
A few blocks away from the lake, a series of widely spaced, single-story structures—most constructed of cement block—housed auto and marine repair facilities and the shops and businesses of the local tradesmen. Ray pulled onto the blacktop lot in front of North Lakes Electrical and Fire Equipment. He sat in the car for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the final movement of Schubert’s Trout Quintet. As the last note faded, he switched off the engine and emerged into the hot, humid air of the August morning. He crossed the threshold, the front door propped open by an old electric motor.
The counterman, short and round, looked up from the sports page of the Record Eagle as Ray approached. “Can I help you, Sheriff?”
“Is Dale in?”
“He’s back in his office.” He pointed to a hallway that ran along the left side of the building. “It’s the one at the end.”
Dale Van Beers was on the phone, his head bent to the right holding the phone, his eyes on a computer display, his fingers moving on the keyboard as he talked. He noted Ray’s presence with his eyes and a nod. Ray could tell from the conversation that he was doing his best to bring it to an end. Finally, Dale rang off.
“Hey, Ray. It’s been awhile,” he said extending his hand.
“How’s business?” asked Ray, settling onto a gray steel chair.
“We’re keeping the lights on. That’s an achievement in this economy. What can I do for you?”
“You service the fire extinguishers and other safety equipment over at the Old Mission Summer Colony?”
“Yes, have for decades. That was one of my father’s accounts, maybe my grandfather’s, too.”
“That includes the emergency egress lights, the ones in the Assembly Hall?”
“Yes? What’s happened?”
“They lost power Saturday. And….”
“Half the county was out, on and off. And I was worried about those lights in the Assembly Hall. I was hoping that situation wasn’t going to come back and bite me in the ass. Am I in trouble?”
“Dale, this is part of a murder investigation.”
“Yeah, the murder. I read about that. Guy was a big shooter, huh. Big bucks from Chicago with that concrete and glass house. I bid on that house. The job would have covered my retirement.”
Ray nodded. “Yes, all of the above. And the egress lights not working just seemed way too convenient. I was wondering if….”
“If you’re thinking about sabotage or something, there’s a possibility. I can even name a suspect, not an actual suspect by name, but I can provide a pretty good description.”
Ray noted that Dale’s expression had gone from one of concern to one of mirth.
“That whole egress lighting system is older than the hills, first generation stuff that was installed right after the fire code made those things mandatory. It’s needed replacing for years. We do the whole nine yards out there, routine inspection and recharging of the extinguishers, no problem there. The cost is built into the colony’s maintenance budget. Same is true for the service on the egress lights. They need to be inspected and the batteries and charging units need to be swapped out from time to time. But replacing the whole system, that’s a problem. It’s a capital expense item, and Grubbs never seems to have the funds for it. So we’ve been cobbling the system together the past several years. The original manufacturer has moved all its production to China and is no longer providing parts for these old units. The last few years I’ve been getting parts by cannibalizing units we’ve pulled from churches and schools as they’ve upgraded. The colony is the last of our customers that still has this old stuff. But we had an incident last week that…well…brought everything to a head.
“What was it, Thursday, Grubbs calls all concerned about an electrical kind of burning smell in the back of the Assembly Hall. I rushed over there personally. As soon as I got into that back hallway, I knew where the problem was. The egress lighting unit over west door was smoldering.”
“And the cause?”
“Mice. It was crammed full with acorns. They must have been chewing on some of the wires, too. This has always been a problem with those units, especially in a building like that. It’s easy for the mice to run along the walls and follow the Romex into the unit. Probably a great place to spend the winter, a heat source and a good supply of food.
“The unit was toast, Ray. Grubbs wanted me to repair or replace it, but I didn’t have anything. So I made a pitch that this was the time to replace the whole shebang. First, pointing out that they had become a fire hazard. Then I gave him my usual sales pitch, and it’s all true. The new units are more reliable, energy efficient, and have come way down in price. They are also rodent proof, according to their manufacturer. He said he’d find the money, and I put in the order as soon as I got back to the office. The replacement lights came FedEx late yesterday. I’ll have everything back together by quitting time.”
“Sure it was mice, no chance of sabotage?”
“Yup. It isn’t the first time it’s happened. There was no sign that anyone not having four paws had tampered with the interior.” He looked at Ray, his tone becoming more serious. “So here’s what I was dealing with. I had to take this unit out of service. I could have wired around it, but I started to wonder about the other units. Grubbs was telling me that he didn’t think the system had ever been activated, not once in his memory. So the easiest thing to do was pull the breaker. I didn’t want anyone noticing it was tripped and flipping it back on. So I deactivated the whole system, all the egress lights. I’m the responsible party. Grubbs told me about the play, and I advised him to make sure that every usher had a flashlight, a new one that worked for sure on the off chance that there was a need for emergency lighting. So am I in trouble with the law?”
“I think you were being prudent, and you gave Grubbs good counsel. I imagine the fire marshal will be pleased to see the improvements on his next inspection.”
36
“Just the lunch you ordered,” said Sue, unpacking a brown paper bag. “One tofu burger with a side of chipotle, brown rice, and a kefir ginger shake. Bon appétit.” She gave him a mocking glance and under her breath said, “I couldn’t live like that.”
“And what are you having?” asked Ray, noticing a grease spot on the side of the bag.
“A half-pound burger from free-range buffalo, topped with farmhouse, aged-goat cheese from the new creamery up in Northport, and organic sweet potatoes fries. I just go for the healthy stuff now. It’s your influence, Ray.” She gave him a mocking smile. “I see you revamped our suspect chart.”
“I’m trying to get some focus. I would like to see if we could start dropping some people, at least tentatively. I would like to get them in rank order and start a second round of interviews.” He studied the chart and looked over at Sue. “I had trouble sleeping last night. With all the summer people leaving in the next two weeks, I can just see this case slipping away. By Labor Day we’ll be talking to ourselves.”