Page 62 of The Instruments of Darkness

“If you don’t mind staying here a while longer,” he said.

“Not at all. I do need to use the restroom, though, after which I will take you up on the offer of a coffee, and something sweet to go with it, if you can oblige me. My blood sugar is getting low.”

“I’ll send Officer Loscarso back in,” said Pascal. “She’ll show you to the restroom, and ensure that you’re fed and watered.”

“You make me sound like a horse.”

“A thoroughbred, I hope.”

“I hope so, too. However unlikely it may sound, I’m telling you the truth.”

She stood and smoothed her skirt, a gesture more habitual than practical. Pascal didn’t even want to guess when the skirt had last seen an iron. She placed a hand on his arm, the intimacy of the gesture the final step in his disarmament.

“Have you met him, the man who owns that punching bag?”

“Yes.”

“What does he look like?”

“He looks like a regular guy.”

“When you arrest him, remember that he didn’t mean to kill Verona.”

“But he did kill her.”

“Yes,” she said. She looked desperately sad. “A regular guy.”

“You sound almost sorry for him.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

She blew her nose, and added the used tissue to the others in her Ziploc bag.

“Because,” she said, “I have some inkling of what’s waiting for him on the other side.”

CHAPTER XXXVI

Ronnie Pascal had a problem, one he had to work through alone. He left the station house, and Sabine Drew, and walked by the banks of the Kennebec, heading south instead of north so that he would not be forced even to glimpse Mill Park, however distant it was from Union Street.

The man with the punching bag in his yard was named Lester Boulier. He lived with his mother at a two-building property in Sidney, about twelve miles north of Augusta. He had been interviewed about Verona Walters’s disappearance because, some weeks previously, he’d been involved in an altercation with her father, who was one of his bosses at the Public Works Department. Boulier worked in sanitation, and had been accused of theft by a woman on one of his routes. Walters had been prepared to give Boulier the benefit of the doubt—sometimes good stuff was left out as garbage, either deliberately or accidentally, and one man’s trash was another man’s treasure—but that was before a pattern of such complaints began to emerge, all of them linked to routes Boulier worked. He had narrowly avoided losing his job, but was taken off the trucks, which he loved, and sent instead to the Hatch Hill Solid Waste Disposal and Recycling Facility out on Route 105.

When interviewed by Pascal and his partner, Erik McCard, Boulier maintained that he wasn’t too bothered by his transfer, ascribing the whole affair to a series of misunderstandings. He was sorry he’d raised his voice to Chris Walters, he said, because he knew his boss was only doing his job. As for the day of Verona’s disappearance, Boulier’s alibi came from his mother, Estelle, who declared he’d been home with her all morning and afternoon. But, as McCard pointed out when they left the property, Mrs. Boulier wasn’t too confident about what day today was, never mind any other day that her son might or might not have been at home. She was very elderly, and claimed to be able to hear better with her glasses on.

So Lester Boulier had remained a person of interest, but no more than that, given his alibi and a complete dearth of witnesses to the abduction. He’d since been re-interviewed by McCard, but he and his mother were sticking to their stories, Mrs. Boulier being, if anything, still more insistent on her son’s presence at home on the day in question. In light of what Sabine Drew had told him, Pascal was now considering the possibility that Lester Boulier could have coached his mother, or convinced her that a falsehood might be the truth.

After leaving Sabine, Pascal made a call to the Kennebec County Registry of Deeds, to be told that the Boulier family owned a total of forty acres around Sidney, largely planted with pine to be sold for Christmas trees. That constituted plenty of acreage in which to dispose of a body, although Pascal now had a crude map with a grave marked on it.

That brought him back to his main problem: he couldn’t approach a judge or justice of the peace for a search warrant based on the evidence of a woman who claimed to be psychic, a medium, or whatever. Pascal couldn’t say in what world that might constitute probable cause, but it wasn’t this one. He could ask for Boulier’s consent to search the property, though that was unlikely to be forthcoming if Verona Walters really was buried on it.

Except…

Lester Boulier wasn’t the registered owner. That was his mother, who had inherited the land following the death of her husband in 1999. Of course, the old lady might be sharper than she acted, in which case she’d send them on their way before they could get their spades dirty, but not before calling her son, a lawyer, or both. On the other hand, if she really believed that spectacles improved her hearing, and refused to accept a Black man had been president, they had a chance.

Pascal returned to Union Street and the interview room, where Sabine Drew and Officer Loscarso were now speaking about books from childhood. Pascal requested that Loscarso join him outside. What he was about to ask of her didn’t necessarily make him feel good about himself, but potentially allowing Verona Walters’s disappearance to remain unsolved would make him feel a whole lot worse.

“Your mom has Alzheimer’s, right?”

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