Meghan sat down again, satisfied their man heard the announcement.
“That’s pretty good.”
“I worked in a convenience store years ago while I went to college. I can work an intercom system.”
It was a few more minutes, and a full cup of coffee before Edmond York appeared in the office. He looked perplexed in navy blue insulated coveralls and bomber hat.
“You that cop?” he asked.
“I am,” Meghan said. “We’re those ‘cops,’ yes.” She motioned to Lester standing by the sofa where Eric reclined. “We’re curious about the blue house you own down the way.” The difficulty of making references to a house without an address was a challenge.
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Want to rent it?”
Meghan frowned. “Aren’t you renting it now?”
“Well, yeah, sure. Norman and Matt rent it from me. It was my sister’s house. She moved to North Pole. I look after the place.”
“Are they good on their monthly rent?” Lester asked.
York shrugged. “Sometimes I got to lean on them a little. Why? Did someone say something?”
“No, we’re trying to figure out who lives there,” Meghan said. “We counted sixteen people in there. Everyone’s eighteen and older.”
“Yeah, I don’t want no kids in there. I can’t talk for who sleeps there sometimes. As long as we get paid, they don’t knock holes in the walls. We’re all good.”
“So, when it’s time for rent, how do they pay you?” she asked.
“Cash or money orders from the post office.”
Meghan nodded and made notes.
“Sometimes Hilma Fisher paid their rent.”
“Did she do that a lot?”
“Not too much,” York said. “She paid rent in August, September, and November. Norman and Matt paid December rent.”
“They pay in cash or money orders?”
“Cash.”
Chapter Seventeen
Barbara McKenzie looked like she suffered from the flu. Meghan knew it had to do with the fact the woman had a traumatic weekend. Estranged from a loveless mother, Barbara still had feelings for the woman, even though the opposite was true for Hilma.
Linda Franks’ house smelled of cinnamon and pine. The scented wax air freshener helped tamp down the aroma of cigarette smoke. Linda sat at a round kitchen table in a nightshirt and purple slipper boots. She smoked a cigarette watching Meghan and Lester cautiously while a toddler in a rolling plastic walker padded around the kitchen.
Barbara and Meghan sat together on the gray sofa. One of the three cushions wasn’t on the couch. Lester stood with his back to the front door watching the toddler trapped in the plastic toy ring, limiting its access to grabbing at items cluttering the kitchen counter. It was too old, too big for the walker. Somehow, it didn’t matter to the toddler. It concentrated on the nook in its mouth while carrying a sippy cup in a puffy left paw.
“Someone disconnected the leads into the house for the heating oil,” Meghan explained. “We think the arson was a direct result of our investigations.”
Normally, Meghan kept her interviews and conversations about cases private, quiet, and mostly behind closed doors. The tiny town of Noorvik had limited access to social media. It had an active gossip and news network through orators who added their spin to the information. Meghan knew the arson wasn’t secret, any more than Hilma’s murder at the moment.
“Why would someone do this to my Mom?” Barbara asked. She sniffled and coughed into a facial tissue.
“I think it has to do with money. Your mother collected cash out of the ATM at the store. We talked to Edmond York. He said Hilma paid the rent on the house where your nephew lives for the last three months. December’s rent was paid in cash from Norman and Mathew Anuun.”
Barbara looked at Linda across the space of the living room and dining area. “Isn’t Diana living there?” she asked.
Linda nodded. She snuffed out the cigarette butt in the deep ashtray. “She’s been there off and on since March. She ain’t doing nothing wrong.”
Meghan focused on Barbara. Linda’s defensiveness was exactly what Lester warned about when it came to residents. She remembered speaking to Diana Franks at the house. She shared similarities with her mother, weight, eyes, and the need for breathing cigarette smoke. Meghan picked up the moment Barbara mentioned Diana. Linda looked at the toddler. It spoke louder than a mother and grandmother’s defense.
“We’ve got a few leads. It would be in your best interest to contact the bank regarding your mother’s property,” Meghan said. “Eric Kennedy can get a copy of the death certificate if you need it.
“My mother’s house belonged to her. She didn’t pay a mortgage.”
“Well, okay. But you can help us with access to her bank accounts. You can show proof of death and relation, anything they have regarding your mother’s accounts, I think they will accommodate you. I’m trying to figure out how much money your mother had in the bank, and they might be able to help us understand how much cash she had in the house.”
Barbara sniffled. She blew her nose and nodded. “Okay. I can try.”
“Thank you.” Meghan stood.
“Do you know who killed my mom?”
Meghan didn’t answer. She looked from Barbara to Linda. Leaving options open allowed her to continue working the case, while simultaneously getting under the surface of the key players in town.
Treading through the snow that went to her knees, Meghan breathed deep the clear air of the town. Away from the tobacco smoke, she needed to clear her head.
“What are you thinking?” Lester asked.
A few snowmobiles raced by them. A four-wheeler puttered by in the opposite direction. In the dark of midday, villagers went home for lunch. She heard children laughing in the schoolyard on the hill. People dealt with the darkness of winter in Alaska with indifference.
“I’m thinking Linda’s watching her daughter’s kid. I’m thinking someone in
