Part 20 (1/2)
Lucy ordered a black decaf for herself, then pulled out her notebook. ”I hope you don't mind if I take notes?”
Graves shrugged.
”First of all, I need your full name and rank... .”
He raised an eyebrow and slid a business card across the table. ”Not my service number?”
She smiled back, taking the card. ”That won't be necessary.”
”It's major. Major Lawrence Graves, United States Army, currently stationed at Camp Edwards in Ma.s.sachusetts.” Norine set the coffees in front of them and he busied himself adding cream and sugar.
”And you were married to Tamzin?”
”Yeah.” He nodded, stirring his coffee. ”For three years, back in the nineties. She was in her early thirties. Beautiful. I never knew such a beautiful woman.”
Lucy nodded, wondering how to broach her next question. ”She made quite an impression here in town... .”
Graves laughed. ”I bet she did-especially with the male half of the population.”
”Well, yes,” said Lucy. ”Was she always so ... ?”
”Promiscuous?” Graves took a long drink of coffee. ”She was.”
”Is that why you divorced?”
”Yeah.”
”But you stayed in touch?”
”Sure. It was a lot easier being her friend than being her husband.”
”So what was she really like?”
”She grew up in Troy, it's one of those towns in New York State that have fallen on hard times. She couldn't wait to get out and joined the army; that's where we met. She's the only person I ever heard say she loved boot camp, but she thrived on physical challenges, she just loved the workouts, the obstacle courses, the runs. And she really liked being with all those guys.”
”How come she left?”
He shrugged. ”She was stuck in Texas and didn't like it much, so when she got twenty years-enough for a pension-she didn't reenlist. She always loved New England so she came up here to Maine. She loved this town, she said she'd never been happier.”
Lucy felt the pull of a great sense of guilt. ”I'm so sorry... .”
”It's not your fault,” said Graves. ”You didn't kill her, did you?”
”I could have been nicer to her.”
”It's okay. She never had a lot of girlfriends,” he said, signaling Norine for a refill. When she'd filled his cup and he'd gone through the rigmarole of tearing open the little paper pouches of sugar and poured in the cream, he made eye contact with Lucy. ”So what do you know about this guy she was working for? This Trey Meacham?”
Lucy s.h.i.+fted in her seat, uncomfortably aware that the situation had changed and she was now the interviewee instead of the interviewer. ”I don't know him very well,” she said, feeling that the incident with Corney was something she shouldn't talk about. Corney deserved to have her privacy protected.
”But you told me you know everybody in town,” he said, challenging her.
”I may have exaggerated,” she said, attempting a chuckle.
Major Lawrence Graves was not amused and Lucy had the feeling she was up against a skilled questioner, someone who was able to get information from toughened Taliban fighters. ”How big is this chocolate operation of his?”
”Oh.” Lucy was relieved. This was something she could talk about. ”There are four stores: Kittery, Camden, Bar Harbor, and here. The chocolates are made in Rockland, in a converted sardine factory, and there's a shop there, too. I haven't seen the corporate balance sheet, but Trey himself seems quite prosperous-he drives a Range Rover-and the chocolates have won prizes.”
”Is he a local guy?”
”You mean, did he grow up here?”
”Yeah.”
”No. He left a high-powered career in public relations, I think, and started Chanticleer Chocolate about a year ago.”
”Did he and Tamzin have a relations.h.i.+p?”
”That's open to debate,” said Lucy. ”They certainly seemed friendly.”
”What about this woman they say killed her? Dora Fraser?”
”She's a local woman, her family owns a fudge shop so she was a compet.i.tor with Chanticleer. Also, Tamzin had a relations.h.i.+p with Dora's ex-husband and she may have been jealous.”
”I don't buy it,” said Graves. ”I don't think a woman could take Tamzin. She was into martial arts, she taught hand-to-hand combat.”
Lucy brightened. ”That's what I think, too. I don't see Dora as a double murderer.”
Graves's eyebrows shot up. ”Double?”
”Dora's ex-husband was killed last month when he was ice fis.h.i.+ng. Knocked on the head and tangled up in fishline and shoved through the ice. They're charging Dora with that, too. Or trying to. I'm not sure of the status of the investigation.”
”Wow, this is some nice town you've got here.”
Lucy decided not to respond. ”Are there any funeral arrangements yet for Tamzin?” she asked.
He drained his cup and set it down. ”Her family is still back in Troy. They'll have a service and she'll be buried there.”
”Thanks for your help,” said Lucy. ”I guess you'll be heading off to Troy?”
Graves caught her in his gaze. ”Oh, no. I'm staying right here until I find the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who killed her.”
The cool, calculated way he said it took her breath away. ”Oh,” she said, her voice a whisper. ”Good luck.”
”Luck will have nothing to do with it,” he said, reaching for his jacket and pulling his watch cap over his head. ”I have a mission and I intend to complete it. Thanks for the coffee.”
Lucy watched as he left the coffee shop, feeling a bit like a bystander in a superhero movie. Graves, it seemed, was no ordinary mortal, he was battle ready and itching for a fight. She was convinced he had the skills and the mental preparedness to fight his enemies and even kill them.