Dead Down East by Carl Schmidt Page A

drove straight to Eric Cochrane’s house. He was out
front, standing on the sidewalk with a doughnut in one hand and a
cup of coffee in the other. It’s a new look for Eric. Not the
doughnut and the coffee, but the morning sunshine on his face. Eric
sets his alarm for noon and then oversleeps on a regular basis.
    “Should I bring an overnight bag and my toothbrush?”
Eric asked. Then he winked and climbed into my Forester.
    “She’s not that kind of woman, Eric. Don’t make any
moves. She’s frightened.”
    Eric took a bite of his doughnut. I couldn’t tell if
he was hungry or just needed to console himself. “Let’s roll,” he
said.
    Cynthia lives on Ridgewood Drive just east of the
Kennebec River. When we got to her street, I drove all the way to
the cul-de-sac and back again, passing Cynthia’s house twice. I
wanted to see if anyone might be hanging around and possibly
waiting for her. Nothing seemed suspicious, so I turned around,
drove back to her house and parked in the driveway.
    Eric and I got out of the car, collected the
surveillance equipment from the back and went inside. The house
looked tidy; there were no signs of trouble. As we walked into the
garage, I gave Eric the keys to Cynthia’s Camry.
    “I’ll set up the camera equipment myself, Eric.
Please just drive her car back to my place and wait for me. Here
are my keys; you’ll have to move the Forester. Park it on the
street and leave the keys in it. When you get to my house, just say
hello to Cynthia and give her the keys. She’s nervous about the
stalker that’s been hanging around here, so just let her be. When I
get back to the house, I’ll drive you home.”
    “Will do, Jesse.”
    “And don’t talk to anyone about the cameras. We don’t
want to blow our cover.”
    “Roger that.”
    I opened the garage door. Eric moved my car and then
backed Cynthia’s car down the driveway and into the street.
    I took a walk around the property to determine the
best locations for the cameras, and got to work. When the cameras
were in place, I turned them on and booted the computer. In about
half an hour, the system was up and running.
    I called Cynthia to see if she could view the video
images on my computer. “All four images look good,” she said. “Eric
is here now, and he made himself at home. You were right. He looks
like a lost dog, but he seems harmless.”
    “Looks can be deceiving, Cynthia. Remember…no
bones.”
    “Right,” she said.
    “I’ll pick up your things and swing by the grocery
store on my way home. I should be back in about forty-five minutes.
If Richard calls, have him come over as soon as possible. Just be
sure not to talk about the case in front of Eric.”
    “All right,” she said, and we hung up.
    I retrieved her personal belongings, cleaned out the
refrigerator and went to Shaw’s for the rest of the groceries. Then
I drove straight home. The only car in the driveway was Cynthia’s
Camry, so apparently Richard was still engaged with the FBI.
    I put the groceries away and went to check on the
camera system. It looked fine. I could see a lady walking her dog
along the road in front of Cynthia’s house. Nothing was happening
on the other three screens.
    Eric had helped himself to some breakfast cereal and
was watching the latest news about the murder on the TV. “It’s
weird,” he said. “The Governor of Maine gets murdered, and two days
later they don’t even have a suspect.”
    “It’s hard to figure,” I said.
    “There’s some speculation that the governor had a
mistress,” Eric added.
    “Who’s speculating?” I asked.
    “Fox News.”
    “Really? Then it must be true,” I said.
    “Don’t be sarcastic, Jesse. Sometimes they get a
scoop. I don’t watch Fox much either, but I’ve been switching
through the news stations to catch all the perspectives. Fox is the
only station that has offered a possible motive. They don’t have
any names yet, but they are pushing the mistress angle.”
    Eric