“Not to speak ill of the dead or anything.”
Landry leaned forward. “She was a bitch to me in high school. When we broke up. We left it in a bad place. I felt... well, I knew she’d made something of herself. I know that people change. Mature and become... different people.”
“But she hadn’t, is that it?”
He shook his head, still frustrated. “I approached her, tried to congratulate her, said how we’d been kids then and made some bad decisions...”
“What kind of bad decisions?”
Dawn Landry, lovely as ever, utterly composed, said, “My husband has a drinking problem. He’s had it a long time. And he keeps it under control. Right now he’s doing well.”
“Okay,” Krista said. “Why do you mention it?”
“His drinking problem started young. His parents kept a lot of liquor around the house, and did not keep track of it. David was helping himself as early as junior high.”
“Okay,” Krista said again.
“David has always handled it well, by which I mean... he’s not a nasty drunk. If anything, he’s a charming one. But with enough in him, he can be... uninhibited. When he knew this reunion was coming up, and that Astrid Lund would be coming, he... he told me something, so that I wouldn’t hear it from her, particularly in an ‘unfair manner,’ as he put it.”
“Go on.”
Dawn brushed some golden-brown hair away from her face. “When he was dating Astrid, they were alone at her house one night. And my guess is she was one of those girls who would let the boys do everything but... you know... everything but. The kids all said she put out, at least according to David... only she was a virgin. When David... had her.”
“He forced her.”
“That’s not how he puts it, but... I think so. He was definitely freaked out, because she was a virgin. There was blood. She got hysterical. He was worried she’d tell, but she never did. They never spoke of it.”
“The first time you talked to Astrid,” Keith said to Landry, “after that bad experience, was here? At the reunion?”
David nodded. “She was cold. Nasty. She said, ‘You think I’m a bitch? I’ll tell you what’s a bitch — karma’s a bitch.’”
“Where were you and David,” Krista asked, “the second week of August last year?”
“I was home,” Dawn said. “Saw my mother several times in Dubuque. Had lunch with friends. I was around. Easily proven. But David’s story about being busy here at the lodge? No. He was away for much of August. Drying out. He’s not had a drink since, to his credit. But this is a fairly regular routine with David.”
“Where is the rehab facility?”
“It’s in Delray Beach. Addiction Solutions. South Florida.”
While her father was interviewing Josh, Krista sat opposite Jessy, her oldest and best friend in the world, who seemed to consider all this attention, re: the Astrid Lund killing, a kind of betrayal.
“What is the idea?” Jessy demanded. “Josh told me you had him come over and explain his whereabouts in August! I told you we were with my sister and her husband.”
“You didn’t tell me you were in Florida,” Krista said, not bothering to correct the impression Jessy’s husband had apparently given her about who initiated last night’s visit.
Jessy folded her arms. “I didn’t say we weren’t in Florida.”
“No, but you led me to believe you were at their cabin on Timber Lake.”
Now Jessy’s hands flew in the air. “I can’t help it if you got the wrong idea! Talk to Judy and Gary — they’ll be able to run down everything we did with them. We cram a lot into those vacations.”
“Somebody crammed a murder in, in Clearwater.”
Jessy bolted to her feet. “I’m not putting up with another second of this crap! You want to talk to me, you go through my brother, the lawyer.”
“Please...”
Jessy leaned in, her upper teeth showing and it wasn’t a smile. “Please explain why you’re all over me and Josh and everybody else here... but where is Ken Stock and his little Mary, whose best quality is looking the other way!”
Krista frowned at the mention of the school newspaper advisor. “What are you talking about?”
Jessy came around and leaned right in Krista’s face. “Everybody back then knew about Ken and Astrid, or anyway suspected those two were... you know!”
“I didn’t know...”
“Well ask around! Ken Stock is a notorious hound! He’s always taking a girl student under his wing, ‘mentoring’ her. I don’t know how he even had the nerve to come to the reunion!”
Twenty-Five
With everyone back in their chairs at their tables, and no one looking terribly happy about it, Keith and Krista conferred at the opposite end of the banquet hall.
Hearing about Ken Stock, Keith said to his daughter, “We need to interview that son of a bitch in depth. Now.”
She gestured with open hands. “He was at that conference in Atlanta with Chris Hope and Tyler. Why would they lie to help him?”
He mulled that for a moment. “Would they have to lie to back him up? Clearwater is, what? Seven hours by car from Atlanta? That’s doable. It was a big, well-attended conference. Chris Hope was taking lectures and classes in different disciplines than Stock.”
She was already nodding. “I’ll call him. We’ll go right over there.”
Keith raised a forefinger. “First call Chris. Ask him exactly how much he recalls seeing Stock at that conference. In the meantime, I’ll chat with our guests — and see if anybody besides your excitable friend Jessy ever heard the rumor that your favorite English teacher had a hobby.”
She was shaking her head. “Pop, he was a mentor to me, as well. Encouraged my writing. He never did a thing that was even vaguely out of line.”
Pop gave her a barely perceivable half smile that Krista had come to think was exclusive to cops. “Why, are you insulted he didn’t? Think about who your father was.”
“Good point.”
“He’s looking like our man. Go make your calls. I’m going to interview Landry again — him being in Florida in August puts him up the suspect list, too.”
She nodded and went out into the hall.
Krista got Chris Hope at home.
He said, “Well, Tyler and I didn’t even get to the hotel where the conference was held till late Thursday — all we missed was early registration and a welcoming ceremony. We saw Ken there on Friday, the first real day. Had lunch with him.”
“Tell me — how did he seem?”
“His usual self. Articulate. I’ve always found him decent enough company. He did seem... well, he looked kind of... ragged.”
“How so?”
“Oh, just tired. Jet-lagged, maybe. No. Wait... you know, he didn’t fly there. He drove, like we did. Had his own car down there.”
And he would have spent a lot of time behind the wheel, driving from Illinois to Clearwater and from Clearwater to Atlanta, especially since he would have to be seen at the conference on Friday to shore up his alibi.
That was another detail they’d missed.
Irritated with herself, she called Stock.
He’d obviously seen her caller ID, because he answered, “Krista, hello. I have to admit to feeling a little insulted.”
That threw her. “Why is that?”
“Bill Bragg told me at school that you’re having a reunion of reunion goers this evening. And I wasn’t invited.”
“That’s only because you aren’t a suspect,” she lied. “But I do need to talk to you. Would now be all right?”