“Why didn’t that land become part of the National Shoreline?” asked Ray. “It’s just about at the southern border.”

“I heard a lot of talk, something about how the family lawyers were able to keep the property. The Hollingsfords had lots of political connections. Last I heard the place belonged to Faye Hollingsford, she’s gotta be way up in her 90s by now. I think she was one of the granddaughters of the people who built it.”

“This Faye, has she or other members of the family used the place in recent years?”

Ma thought about it. “No. I don’t think anyone from the family has been there in 25 or 30 years. I don’t know why they hold on to the property. Maybe sentimental reasons or something.”

“But there’s been a caretaker?” said Ray.

“Yes, Perry Ashton. He’s been there for years; took over when his father died. Perry opens the place in the spring, shuts everything down in the fall, just like someone from the family is going to show up. Every month he gets a check from a law office in New York. He used to live in the house on the highway next to the road that runs into the estate. That was the winter place for the caretaker.”

“But he doesn’t….”

“No, not no more. I think he’s supposed to, but he doesn’t. No one checks. These days he spends the winter in town with his girlfriend. They live out at the estate in the good weather.”

“The girlfriend, do you know her name?”

“Let me think, first name is Carol and last name is…something…maybe Truno.”

“So no one watches over the place during the winter?” Ray asked as he penned Perry Ashton and Carol Truno at the top of a yellow legal pad.

“True. There was never a problem in the old days. It’s just too hard to get through all that swampland, and almost no one knew it was there. But you know those damn snowmobiles can go everywhere. If you put up fences, they tear them down. There’s been some vandalism over the years. Perry told me he took all the valuables out of there years ago. He’s got them stored some place in town.”

“Other than the vandalism, has there ever been any other trouble?”

“What do you mean?”

“Drugs or anything that might have involved the police?”

“I don’t think so. The place has always been sort of its own little island, if you know what I mean. Whatever happened there was family stuff and nothing bad.” Ma paused, holding Ray’s gaze. “There was one thing, years ago. It happened in the spring, caused a bit of a stir.”

“What?” pressed Ray.

“A body, a boy in his early teens, washed up on the beach.”

“When was that?” asked Sue

Ma’s reply was slow in coming. “Maybe 20 years or a bit more. Perry found him. As I remember, he was a kid from down around Sandville. Paper said Sheriff Orville thought the kid was probably skinny-dipping down around South Bay, got caught in a rip current or something and drowned. His body got carried up here by the wind and waves. I never thought that added up. Like if he went skinny-dipping, why didn’t they find his clothes on a beach somewhere. There was a lot of talk at the time. And who would be swimming in the big lake then? It was early spring; the water was still awful cold. Too cold even for kids.”

“So what happened?” asked Ray.

“I don’t think anything happened. Orville and his deputies did their investigation and said it musta been an accidental drowning. Kid was from a poor family. Other than his folks, probably no one really cared.”

“Anything else about that case? Do you remember the victim’s name?”

“Ray, that was a long time ago. If I ever knew it, I long ago forgot. Life moves on.”

Ray looked across at Sue. He knew that they were sharing the same thoughts. Over the past several years, they had uncovered numerous examples of incompetence on the part of Ray’s predecessor, Orville Hentzler, and the collection of cronies and relatives he employed as deputies during the more than 40 years he held the office. Most of the records and reports from Hentzler’s long tenure in office had been lost in a suspicious fire that took place shortly before he left office.

“How is Bobby doing?” asked Ray, moving the conversation back to Ma.

“He’s struggling with his dad’s death. They’ve always been buddies. I’ve started taking him to an adult daycare when I go to work. I think it’s been good for him to meet other people. My job is my big worry right now.”

“How’s that?”

“The new business manager at Leiston School, he’s looking to cut costs. There’s talk that they’re going to hire an outside contractor to handle things like food service, laundry, custodial, and grounds. Rumor is that some of us will still be able to keep our jobs, but we’ll get paid less and probably lose our health insurance. I don’t know how we’ll make it.” Ma looked at her watch. “I dropped Bobby off at the barber shop. I know Leo will look after him till I get there, but I shouldn’t make him wait too long.”

“We’ll only keep you a few more minutes. Let’s count the money and Sue will get it logged in and give you a receipt. And remember what I told you.”

“You know I will, Ray,” she responded, pulling herself out of her chair.

Five minutes later Sue returned to Ray’s office. “What do you think this is all about?” she asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. The automatic response is that it must be some kind of drug deal, but that doesn’t quite make sense, does it?”

“No, I don’t think any of our dealer friends would need to wander off to some remote place in the woods to make an exchange. That’s too much like work. They are more into passing packages from one Escalade to another. And I can’t imagine bad guys leaving a stash of cash with the expectation that their distributor would leave the goods under a pine tree. What do we do now?”

“Keep an eye on things and see what develops. This drowning Ma mentioned, I’d like to know more about it. How busy are you?”

“Lots of little things need to be finished up. But less jammed than I usually am.”

“Will you see what you can dig up?”

“Sure,” she responded. “First I have to find a name, then look through the non-existent police reports from that time and….”

“There will be a death certificate, and maybe there’s a state police report.” Ray paused for a long moment. “Mrs. Schaffer, Helen Schaffer.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s been the main secretary at Consolidated Schools for decades. See her, you’ll get a name and probably some family history. She’s a really bright woman with an incredible memory.

“And I forgot to ask, how did Simone do when you were away?” Ray asked. Sue had acquired a Cairn terrier during the course of a recent murder investigation.

“The couple I boarded her with was really wonderful. They kept her with them in the house. They said she seemed to be fine, but she was off her food. I’m trying to remember, did she eat okay when she stayed with you?”

“She was great. Clean plate club.”

“Ray, you didn’t…”

“Not a chance. Nothing but dog food.”

3

The next morning, Tuesday, Sue started her exploration at the County Clerk’s office of the death of the teenager who’d washed up on the shoreline at the Hollingsford Estate. The youngest elected official in Cedar County, Julie Sutton, a woman of boundless energy and enthusiasm, greeted her.

“Hey, Susan, great tan. How was Florida?”

“It was good. I need a favor.”

“A favor or a miracle?” Sutton shot back.

“How do I…?”

“You need some information?”

“Yes.”

“A favor request would be something we’ve got on the computer, something that’s happened in recent decades. A miracle request is a birth or death record from 120 years ago. In fact, I just completed one. Been working on it off and on for weeks. This lady in New York, one of those ancestry.com addicts—most of them need a Twelve-Step Program—contacted me about a distant relative, a great-great grandmother twice removed, with three or four possible spellings of the last name, who may have been born in this county around 1880 and may have died around 1920. With a lot of digging I solved the case,” Sutton said, beaming. “Someday I will have this all computerized, and a search like this will be just a few key strokes.” She paused for a moment and smiled wistfully. “And it won’t be near as much fun. Now, what can I do for you?”