Death at the Door Read online

  “I talked to Joel and you might as well get prepared. We will not live this one down for several years.” Lacey took a gulp of her large glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. She rolled her partially filled glass around observing the orange pulp and marveled that people on this northwoods island would go to the trouble of bringing enough oranges over on the ferry to give their guests fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast.

  “Screw Joel. Is there anything new on the death of the architect?”

  “Joel went through his office and his home in Chicago yesterday. He found some unsigned hate mail about his zoning board decisions at his house. Four letters appear to be in the same handwriting. They don’t threaten Paul’s life but they make it pretty clear that bad things might happen to him if he doesn’t change his stance on development in Door County. He’s having the letters compared to the ones in the Door County Ledger files. He’s also having them checked for prints.

  “Paul was very close to Daisy DuBois. She’s the sister of Rose Gradoute, who owns the house that John is remodeling. There were several pictures of him with Daisy in his house as well as some more women’s clothing. Daisy lives in Chicago but also has a house up here. Joel just missed her in Chicago; she drove up here yesterday. He’s going to interview her as soon as he gets back today. He stayed at home in Wausau last night.

  “I never eat like this at home,” Lacey said when their food was delivered. “I’m going to have to dance my ass off tonight.” That didn’t stop her from cleaning her plate.

  They were the last car on the 9 A.M. ferry. Joel was waiting for them when they pulled into the dock in Northport.

  “The good news is there were no more robberies discovered last night. The bad news is we’re starting to get a lot of pressure from a couple of the families to get these solved. Can you two take today and go over the twenty-five cases and figure out all the commonalities? I can bring extra help up from Wausau if you can point them in the right direction. The Edgewater Resort has a meeting room you can use. I gave Ann your list of what’s been stolen and she’s putting information on each kind of glass together for you. John collects coins and he’s going to do some research with the local numismatic society. He’s also going to take me to interview Rose Gradoute.”

  Wednesday Morning

  May 30—Edgewater Resort, Ephraim, Wisconsin

  After Joel got Lark and Lacey settled into the Edgewater conference room, he and John and Ann drove to Gradoute house. John told Joel what he knew about the Gradoute family as they drove north. A few minutes out of the Ephraim they turned left onto a gravel road that paralleled Eagle Harbor. Small cottages and houses were tucked into the trees on both sides of the road. Tall evergreens and hardwoods framed breathtaking views of the harbor. The road twisted away from the beach and through a tunnel of maple, oak, and ash trees that arched together over the road allowing only glimpses of the lake and dapples of sunlight to break through. The road became one lane of gravel that again paralleled the beach. East of the road stood a six-stall stone garage with a white clapboard second story on top of it. Ivy and roses climbed up the sides as if they had been there for decades.

  “That’s Paul Larsen’s gatehouse,” Joel said.

  John nodded. “That’s the gatehouse the Gradoutes want to buy.”

  “What I wouldn’t give to have those roses at our house.” Ann craned her neck to look back at them.

  Just beyond the gatehouse they drove between two stone pillars, each posted with a sign that read Private Drive, No Exit. An emerald green lawn studded with huge trees, flowerbeds, and benches stretched to the west down to beach grass and the lake. The grounds to the east of the road resembled a woodland park setting.

  “Rose Gradoute was Rose DuBois before she married Simon. Simon was born in Canada and owned restaurants in Quebec and Detroit before he decided to settle here in Door County. He currently owns the very chichi Rosemary’s Bistro in Ephraim and the Hill Top Café that serves breakfast and lunch in Sister Bay.” John paused as he slowed down to let a flock of wild turkeys scurry off the road.

  “Rose has three sisters, Violet, Lily, and Daisy. They all have summer homes up here but live in Madison, Milwaukee, and Chicago.”

  “What’s with the flower names?” Joel asked, scribbling in his notebook.

  “Family tradition. All the females for over a hundred years have been named after flowers.” The house came into view. “I’m going to stop here and give you the rest of the family history and then we’ll go on up to the house.” John pulled off to the side of a circular drive that allowed trespassers to turn and leave the property before pulling up to the house. It also showed off a magnificent view of Eagle Harbor and the old Eagle Bluff Lighthouse across the bay in Peninsula State Park.

  “Rose’s great-grandfather Amos Card built the house for his wife in 1907. His parents owned Card Shipping Lines. Their ships transported passengers and cargo on all the Great Lakes. They owned the ships that brought people to vacation in Door County before there were trains or passable roads. When Amos married Iris Bjorklund from Washington Island, his father gave him three hundred acres of property between Ephraim and Sister Bay including the land where this house stands. Iris loved Door County so much that Amos decided to build their main home here. They only left Door County in the dead of winter when they went to their home in Chicago.”

  “Three hundred acres here must be worth a fortune now.” Joel looked around in wonder.

  “The family only has two hundred acres left but they own several thousand feet of lake frontage, which is worth millions today. The house was passed on to Iris and Amos’s daughter Hyacinth Card, who married Joshua Williams. That’s how Cathy Lowery and Rose are related: Cathy was a Williams. The Williams family owned several sawmills and paper mills throughout Wisconsin, Michigan, and Minnesota, including a sawmill here in Door County, which Joshua ran.” John started the car and drove up the hill toward the house.

  “Another case where money attracts money,” Joel quipped.

  “Their child, Camellia Williams, married Robert DuBois, an attorney and businessman from Chicago. Camellia is Rose Gradoute’s mother. Camellia never really liked living in Door County. She spends most of her time in Chicago. She has a house further up the road. She stays there when she comes up once or twice a year, and that’s where she and her husband keep their yacht. The boat is called Flower Power.”

  “You weren’t kidding about the flower names, were you?” Joel said as he finished up his notes.

  “Dead serious. I remember all this because the bed-and-breakfast rooms are each going to be done in a different flower theme. One of Rose’s sisters is an interior decorator. She’s already working on that part of the project.” John pulled up under the porte cochere.

  “This place is incredible,” Ann said as they got out of the car and took a better look at the house and grounds. The house, really a two-story, cedar-and-stone lodge, was set up on a hill east of the beach. The rooms in the front of the house facing west had a panoramic view of Eagle Harbor. Ann noticed that one section of the house had a third story and a belvedere that was primarily glass. She hoped she would get to go up there to get a better look at the area. The east or back side of the house was surrounded by part of the grove of tall trees they had driven through. Ann’s eyes followed a pink stone path from the north side of the house across the road and down to a large white gazebo that sat at the edge of the beach. Their study of the house was interrupted when the front door opened.

  “John, how nice to see you. Rose is out in the greenhouse.” The woman shook hands with John and introduced herself as Delia Head-ley. She escorted them down a long center hall. They walked through a massive kitchen full of commercial-looking appliances and out to a greenhouse full of orchids and other exotic plants. Rose asked Delia to have the cook make tea for the Thomas Lee room and the sunroom. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Rose came from old money. She was gracious but used to giving orders and being waited
on. Everything about her from her just-so blond hair to her perfect posture and her matching slacks, sweater, and shoes shouted money.

  She took Ann’s arm as she led them back through the hall to a room off the dining room. Ann had been dying to see the Thomas Lee room for months, since Cathy Lowery had first told her about it. The large room had windows on one wall and a fireplace on another, but the remainder was covered with lighted, built-in shelving filled with carnival glass. The room was flooded with sunlight and the walls seemed to sparkle from the light reflecting off the iridescent glass. Ann was so excited that she had to remind herself to breathe. She walked over to the shelves, ignoring the large pastel Oriental rug, the cherry mantel, and the four carved cherry card tables that would normally have held her attention. She was drawn like a magnet to a cabinet full of red carnival glass.

  “I told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” John said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m speechless.” Ann smiled at Rose. “You have more carnival glass than the Fenton Glass Museum.”

  “I’m sure John’s told you the story behind this, but let me give you the short version before we sit down and talk about Paul.” Rose took Ann’s arm and led her to one of the card tables. “My great-grandmother’s family settled in Pennsylvania before coming to Washington Island. Three of her brothers stayed behind and went to work as mold makers and glassblowers in the glass factories in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia. Nimo worked at Imperial and Millersburg, Thomas Lee worked at Fenton, and Jed worked for Northwood. When great-grandmother married, she received a lot of very fine Tiffany glass. You’ll see it all over the house. Her brothers made taffeta glass or poor man’s Tiffany glass, what we now call carnival glass.” Rose stopped and looked around the room.

  “Grandma Iris tried to buy at least one of everything her brothers made. They also sent her their ‘one of a kinds’ and whimsies. As you can see from the card tables, this used to be the card room. That was always a big joke around here since Grandpa Amos’s last name was Card. Thomas Lee came here for his summer holiday and died in a boating accident out in Eagle Harbor. Grandma Iris had the cabinets built around the room and put Thomas Lee’s carnival glass in here and renamed this the Thomas Lee room. Our most unusual carnival glass is now in here, and the rest of her collection is all over the house.”

  “There’s more?” Ann said, finding it hard to believe that someone could have more carnival glass than what was in this room.

  “Grandma Iris never saw a piece of glass or pottery she didn’t like and Amos couldn’t resist books of any kind.” Rose got up from the card table. “This house has twenty bedrooms and an attic, so they had plenty of space to fill. They were both pack rats. My sisters and I inherited an incredible amount of wonderful glass and books. Violet has most of great-grandmother’s Flow Blue, Lily has her majolica, and Daisy has her cut glass.” Rose showed Ann the carnival glass reference books and told her to enjoy herself while she talked with Joel and John about Paul Larsen.

  Rose led the way to the sunroom. “Sheriff Skewski asked me to talk with you about Paul’s death.” She seated herself in an old white wicker rocker and fixed her eyes on Joel.

  He fished a tape recorder out of his jacket pocket and laid it between them on the wicker coffee table. “Would you mind if I tape this? We can go so much faster if I don’t have to take notes. Then one of the sheriff’s staff can bring a transcript of the tape back out here for you to sign.”

  “That’s fine,” Rose replied as she poured tea.

  “How did you know Mr. Larsen?”

  “We’ve known each other as long as I can remember. Paul’s grandparents and great-grandparents worked for my family when this was Card House.” She paused and offered them tea.

  Both men declined.

  “Paul’s grandmother was my grandmother’s maid and his grandfather ran our orchards. His grandfather died very young and my grandfather gave his grandmother, Minevra Larsen, the carriage house and an acre of land as a permanent residence as long as we could use the carriage section to house our vehicles. My father had a garage built up here at the house in the sixties and gave her restricted ownership of the carriage house. Dad gave her the option to pass ownership on to her family, but it could never be sold out of her family without us having a first right of refusal to buy it back.” Rose took a small sugar cookie from a plate on the wicker tea cart after offering some to each of the men.

  “Do you know who will inherit the house now that Paul is dead?” Joel asked.

  “Paul was divorced and has two young children. I’m sure it will be them or we will buy it back for the estate.”

  “I’ve heard you were trying to purchase the carriage house.”

  Rose paused before answering. “We’d made inquiries but he turned us down.”

  “I’ve also heard that you two were having some difficulties with each other over the conversion of your house into an inn.” Joel studied her face, trying to read what her carefully chosen words were guarding.

  “As you can imagine, property development of any kind is a major issue here in Door County. We have to maintain a balance between nature and progress.” Rose nudged the rocker into gentle motion with the toe of her shoe. “Paul had managed to get himself on the zoning board for Door County and the planning commission for Ephraim. He hadn’t yet come out in opposition to our plan, but he’d told Simon that he was thinking about it. He’d also angered several other people in the community when he voted against their plans to sell their land for development.”

  “Why would he oppose you turning Gradoute House into an inn?” John asked. “This is the first time I’ve heard about this.”

  “We haven’t said anything to you because we know we have the votes on both councils for approval. Paul had talked to Simon about his displeasure over all the additional traffic and activity he’d have around the gatehouse.” Once again Rose set the rocker in motion.

  “Can you think of any other reason why someone would want to kill Paul?”

  Again Rose paused before answering. “I really can’t. Paul and I grew up together but we had grown apart over the years. We went to separate universities. He was frequently here on the weekends but we had different sets of friends. We had words last month over something that happened almost a hundred years ago. I really do believe his grandmother knows where the Thomas Lee carnival stash is.”

  Joel and John looked at her blankly.

  “I just assumed someone had told you about it. Thomas Lee and one of Paul’s relatives died out in Eagle Harbor when their boat capsized in 1919. He had come to Door County for his summer holiday and had brought two barrels of Fenton glass with him. One barrel was unpacked on his arrival but the other one was hidden away because it was Grandma Iris’s very special birthday present from him. He had supposedly been working on it for over a year. After his death no one could find the second barrel. Thomas Lee joked to Grandpa Amos that he’d hidden the barrel well because he knew that Grandma Iris would get into it early if she could find it.” Rose poured herself another cup of tea.

  “Minevra, Paul’s grandmother, has stated many times that as a little girl she saw the two barrels but could never remember what happened to the second one. She thought she saw Thomas Lee and one of the help rolling a barrel up to the attic, but it was never found there. Minevra had two very rare pieces of red carnival glass in the gatehouse when she went to the nursing home two years ago. Paul told me she bought them at a garage sale in Sturgeon Bay. I’ve always thought she knew where the missing stash of glass was and those two plates were probably part of it. They were much too rare for her to have found them at a garage sale.” Rose was rocking quite vigorously by the time she finished talking.

  “You think she stole them?” John asked

  “I don’t know what to think but we know from old Fenton Glass Company records that there were two barrels of glass shipped up here when Thomas Lee left for holiday. We know they came off the boat with him down
on the old Anderson dock. The whereabouts of that second barrel nearly drove Grandma Iris crazy.” Rose got up and paced the room. “Paul never cared at all about glass. He tried to give me his grandmother’s two pieces of red carnival for the Thomas Lee room. They were Fenton Stag and Holly, which is very rare in red carnival. We got into an argument about the Thomas Lee stash and how I think his grandmother knows where it is. That’s the last time we talked.” She sat back down in the rocker and wiped tears from her eyes with the corner of her napkin.

  “Where were you Sunday morning around eleven A.M.?”

  Rose glared at Joel. “I was here. Delia and the cook were at church and Simon was at the Café.”

  “No one else was here?” Joel asked

  “No one,” she replied, her eyes defiant.

  “Do you play golf?”

  “Of course I do.” Her eyes bored into Joel’s. “Do you think I killed Paul?”

  “Everyone is a suspect right now,” Joel replied.

  “You are wasting your time with me. I was angry with him but I would never have hurt him.”

  “You mentioned that Paul has an ex-wife and kids.” Joel fished out his notebook. “Did he have any other family?”

  “His grandmother Minevra is in a nursing home in Sturgeon Bay. She’s rarely lucid and has already deeded the gatehouse to Paul.” Rose gave him the name of Paul’s ex-wife and kids living in Atlanta. She did not know their address. Rose told them that she thought Paul had been seriously dating someone in Chicago but did not know her name. She referred them to her sister Daisy, who sometimes did interior design work for him, thinking that she would probably have better information. She sent Delia to get Ann and then escorted them to the door.