Double Forté

  Double Forté

  A Gus LeGarde Mystery

  Book 1

  Aaron Paul Lazar

  This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 by Aaron Paul Lazar. Previous edition published by Publish America, Maryland 2004. Revised and expanded edition published by Twilight Times Books, February 2012.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  Revised Edition, October 2015

  Cover art by Kellie Dennis, Bookcoverbydesign.uk.co.

  Published in the United States of America.

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  Devil’s Lake

  Bittersweet Hollow, book 1

  Two years ago, Portia Lamont disappeared from a small town in Vermont, devastating her parents and sister, who spent every waking hour searching for her. When she suddenly shows up on their horse farm in a stolen truck with a little mutt on her lap, they want to know what happened. Was she taken? Or did she run away?

  2015 Finalist Readers’ Favorites Awards

  2015 Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Review Awards

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  Fictional series by Aaron Paul Lazar:

  LEGARDE MYSTERIES (country mysteries set in the Finger Lakes)

  GREEN MARBLE MYSTERIES (mysteries with time travel and a ghost)

  TALL PINES MYSTERIES (sensual women’s mysteries set in the Adirondacks)

  PAINES CREEK BEACH SERIES (love stories by the sea)

  BITTERSWEET HOLLOW SERIES (romantic suspense involving kidnapping)

  Dedication

  To my sweet wife, Dale, who has displayed tremendous courage in the face of adversity and who continues to fill my soul with longing and laughter.

  To my three beautiful daughters, in order of their birth: Jennifer, who is a most devoted mother, and whose sense of playfulness sparkles and is reflected in the big eyes of her adorable children. Melanie, whose lyrical, powerful voice induces chills of delight, and who is a great mother to Luke. Allison, whose artistic talent and spiritual depth fill my heart with pride, and who is a wonderful mother to her two boys.

  And to my six grandchildren: Julian and Gordon, who have always been my little buddies, my two precious grandsons who have enriched our lives beyond imagination. And dear little Bella, my little princess. My heart sings when I see you, little one! And to Christopher, the funniest and sweetest little guy on the planet. And to the youngest two of my six grandbabies: Luke, who I see too rarely (since he lives with his mother in Boston) but oh how I love his sunny disposition and big blue eyes; and to Joey, the beautiful boy who lives with us with big brother Chris. His calm and easy-going ways have been a blessing in our lives, and he is also quite the character who keeps us laughing all the time.

  To Bobbi, who passed last year, for her constant and unwavering support, for the many dishes of tomato scallop and apple pie, and whose sense of family history has been inspirational. We miss you and love you.

  To Max, for being the best mutt on Earth and for providing a terrific dog model. Although you are now gone, my wonderful canine friend, you will always live on in our hearts.

  To my beloved parents, the best parents in the world, who taught me to appreciate fine music, art, literature, gardening, country life, bountiful family meals, and a good mystery. I lost them in 1997 and 2015, but look forward to our eventual reunion some day.

  Finally, to my four beloved grandparents who have found their way into the series in one way or another. (“'Til we meet again…”)

  Reviews

  You’re about to dive into Double Forté, book 1 in the LeGarde Mystery series. If you enjoy it, I hope you’ll consider leaving a review. It doesn’t have to be long or fancy—just a few lines about what you liked best or how the book made you feel is perfectly fine.

  Thanks in advance for taking a few minutes to write a short review!

  Cast of Characters

  Primary Characters

  Gus LeGarde: Music Professor at Conaroga University. (Father to Freddie, grandfather to Johnny.) Gus mourns the loss of his first wife, Elsbeth and plays endless Chopin etudes to soothe his soul.

  Siegfried Marggrander: A giant of a man, deprived of his enormous mental ability early in life by an accident. He survived as a genial, fearless and loyal companion to Gus.

  Elsbeth (Marggrander) LeGarde: Siegfried’s twin sister who died four years before the events of this story, but survives as an unforgettable memory in Gus’s mind. Elsbeth was Gus’s first wife.

  Camille Coté: Social worker/teen therapist and troubled victim of a brutal ex-husband.

  Maddy Coté: Camille’s flamboyant mother and Gus’s secretary in the Music Department at Conaroga University.

  Freddie (LeGarde) Delano: Gus’s adult daughter who runs a veterinary clinic in town. Married to Harold Delano and mother of Johnny, a precocious two-year old.

  Harold Delano: lawyer, husband to Freddie.

  Johnny Delano: Freddie and Harold’s son; Gus’s grandson. Two-year-old and one of Gus’s best pals.

  Adelaide Pierce: Housekeeper of the LeGarde household.

  Joe Russell: Lieutenant of the local police.

  Adam Knapp: Joe Russell’s partner.

  The Stones: Oscar and Millie took the bereaved Gus under their wings as he suffered one loss after another. They are his “adopted” parents and long-time family friends.

  The Animals (and owners)

  Max (Gus): Half husky/half wire-haired dachshund.

  Sheba (Siegfried): Golden retriever rescued from hunter’s trap.

  Boris (Camille): A longhaired mini-Dachshund.

  Tristan (Gus): A Himalayan cat with the instincts of a thief.

  Diablo (Gus): A Morgan gelding with visions of a steeple-chasing career.

  Maggie (Gus): A dainty Morgan mare.

  Rascal (Gus): An ill-tempered rooster who rules the barn.

  Jasper (The Stones): Beloved old collie who passes away early on in the story.

  Tinkerbell (The Stones): Sheba’s mongrel pup who replaces their beloved Jasper.

  Ginger (Camille): An orange tiger cat who snoozes as much as she eats.

  Dunster (Joe Russell): A tri-colored collie, alive in his owner’s memory.

  Chapter 1

  We’d been skiing across the snow-covered field for twenty minutes when I heard the howl. The sound echoed over the frozen landscape, sending chills down my spine. Was it a coyote? A wolf?

  I turned to Siegfried, my best friend and brother to my deceased wife. “Did you hear that, Sig?”

  He slid to my side in a white spray of snow, courtesy of the fresh powder that coated the two-foot base. It had been swirling white since we started out in the murky dawn, hoping to get some exercise before we started our busy Saturday.

  He slowly shook his massive head. “No, Professor. Was hörten Sie?”

  At six-eight, Sig was taller than me. With broad shoulders, huge hands, and tree trunk legs, this man who’d stood by my side since childhood appeared a gladiator among normal men. But I knew his secret. He was an angel on earth, put here for the animals and children, sent to teach us how to be better people. I loved him fiercely, and he’d been my friend since I was five.

  We listene
d at the crest of the hill. I pulled back my hood, but the biting cold of the January gusts sliced into my face and neck, numbing my skin. This windy ridge, which overlooked the east side of the gently rolling Genesee Valley, boasted the most beautiful view for miles. Today I was almost too cold to notice.

  “I’m not sure, buddy. It was a—”

  The cry came again. This time it was louder, more plaintive.

  Siegfried’s sea blue eyes widened and he pointed with his ski pole toward the woods. A wisp of long blond hair escaped from his hood, fluttering about his face. “Mein Gott. It sounds hurt.” When my friend grew worried, his German accent thickened. “We must help.”

  Resolved, he lifted his poles, pushing hard in the direction of the cry.

  As if to emphasize the urgency of the moment, a red-tailed hawk shrieked, gliding in circles overhead. I tightened my grip on my poles and hurried after Siegfried, who’d already put some distance between us.

  I caught up when the hill sloped downward, and met him at the edge of the woods. He snapped out of his skis and stopped to listen again. I did the same, pulling my wool cap down around my ears.

  A whimper came from the deepest part of the woods. Siegfried spun toward the sound. “Auf gehts.” He headed straight for the sound, crunching through the two-foot layer of snow that blanketed the forest floor, softly connecting silver birch to maple to oak. The silence was broken only by another wail from the troubled animal.

  We had to tromp one step at a time, our feet sinking to the ground and snow up to our knees. We found her fifteen minutes later, lying in the flattened snow.

  “Mein Gott,” Siegfried whispered. “It’s a dog.”

  The golden retriever lay in the snow with her hind leg clamped in a rusty trap. Spots of red soaked the snow beneath her. She raised her nose in the air when she saw us and thumped her tail against the frozen ground, whining.

  I approached her, holding out my hand. “Shh. It’ll be okay.” She sniffed my glove and began to lick the fabric. I pulled off the sweaty glove and reached for her ears, stroking them. When I ran my hand down her side, I realized she was pregnant. Her sad brown eyes searched mine and she lapped my hand.

  Siegfried knelt by the trap, his brow furrowed. “Easy, now. Good dog.” He inspected the mechanism. “She is very cold. We must hurry.”

  He’d studied a lot about the treatment of injured animals in my daughter Freddie’s veterinary clinic. I’d learned to listen to him.

  The cold penetrated deep into my limbs and the exposed fingers of my hand were starting to burn. It was different when we were skiing across the fields—we worked up a sweat no matter what the temperature. “Sig? Can you get her out of that thing?”

  “Ja. Hold her collar. On drei, okay?”

  I slid my hand beneath her worn leather collar. She turned her big brown eyes to me, instantly melting my heart. “Careful. Don’t hurt her.”

  “I will be careful.” Siegfried spoke softly, but with purpose. “Eins, zwei, drei.” He applied his muscle to the contraption. After several nerve-wracking seconds, the jaws snapped open.

  The dog jumped up, hanging her rear foot. Siegfried unwound his scarf, gently wrapped it around the shaking dog’s leg, and lifted her into his massive arms.

  Chapter 2

  I drew on my glove, flexing my fingers to get the blood moving. We were about four miles from home, as the crow flies. With each step through the forest, we sank to the bottom of the pack. We both tried to follow our tracks to minimize the exertion, but poor Siegfried couldn’t see over the bundle of fur he carried. Soon he gave up, and simply trudged forward, one slow step at a time.

  He couldn’t ski the dog home, it would be impossible to hold her and steady himself with his ski poles. What we really needed was snowshoes. Or a friendly helicopter.

  We made our way slowly through the woods. The sky brightened slightly, making it a bit easier. And at least the trees cut the stiff wind whipping with fury over the open fields.

  I stopped to catch my breath and turned to Siegfried. “Did you bring your cell phone, buddy?”

  He ignored me and nuzzled the dog’s fur with his face. “I’m going to call her Sheba.” She lapped his cheeks enthusiastically.

  I couldn’t help the smile stealing onto my lips. “Um, Sig? Your cell? I left mine on the charger.”

  He dragged his attention from the dog and shrugged. “It is on my bureau, Professor. Sorry.”

  “We’ll have to get a ride. You can’t walk all the way home with her. It’s too far.” I pointed to the dog, who flapped her tail against him and wiggled with joy in his arms.

  He glanced briefly in the direction of home. “Ja. It is a long way.”

  When we made it back to our skis and the edge of the field, I glanced around the lonely landscape, pointing to a rundown house in the distance. “I think that’s the Hatfields’ tenant house. They probably have a phone.”

  Faint wisps of smoke floated from the chimney. I figured I could make it there in ten minutes on skis. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll ski over there, call Freddie, and have her meet us on Twin Bridge Road with the Jeep.” I motioned toward the road at the top of the hill.

  Siegfried twisted around to look for a landmark, squinting against the rays of sun creeping over the horizon. “Up there?” He indicated a tall grove of pines.

  I nodded. “That’ll work. Are you sure you can carry her all the way?” The half-mile trek was mostly uphill.

  “Ja. Naturich.” With a determined look on his face, Siegfried repositioned the dog in his massive arms and began to stagger through the deep snow.

  I stepped back into my skis and made my way across the field, stopping halfway to check on Siegfried’s progress. He’d climbed about a quarter of the distance to the road. Although my nose and cheeks were frozen, now I was soaked in sweat beneath the layers. I unzipped my parka, repositioned the wool cap over my ears, and pushed ahead.

  When I reached the backyard of the ramshackle house, I circled around to the front and clicked out of the skis, leaning them against the hull of an abandoned farm truck. The only other vehicle was a rusty Dodge, wedged into a small shoveled rectangle in the driveway.

  The curtain moved briefly in the window. I pulled off my hat and tried to smooth my sweaty hair. I didn’t want to scare the occupants by showing up at their front door way too early in the morning, looking like some wild-eyed monster with spiky hair.

  In spite of the heavy blanket of snow, I could make out shapes of junk littering the yard. An old bicycle lay across the pathway, half-buried. I stepped over it and nearly fell into two truck tires catching myself on a dilapidated wrought iron railing. The muffled sound of cursing came from inside. I slowed and glanced up and down the road. Although I’d rather not bother an already ticked off guy, there were no other houses in sight. I had to get to a phone. I checked Sig’s progress, noting he was more than halfway to the road. I had no choice but to disturb the man behind the curtain.

  I knocked once on the storm door.

  “Go away.”

  I banged with my fist this time. No way was I leaving my buddy stranded up on the road with an injured dog.

  The door was flung open. A guy with red hair stood in the doorway wearing a ragged plaid bathrobe, long johns, and orange wool socks. His bushy red beard stuck together in clumps as if it hadn’t been brushed in days. He stood eye-level with me. I estimated he was six-one and weighed about two hundred and eighty. He glared with flat gray eyes.

  “Whaddya want?” His breath smelled of cigarettes and stale beer. “I told you to go away.”

  I held out my hand. “Gus LeGarde, from up on Sullivan Hill Road.”

  He ignored my extended hand. “So?”

  I lowered my arm. “Sorry to bother you, man, but I need to use your phone. It’s an emergency.”

  He scowled, looking me up and down.

  I brushed damp hair from my brow. “Listen. We were skiing in the fields over there,” I pointed to the hill
, “and found a dog caught in a trap. My friend is carrying her up the hill to Twin Bridge Road, but I need to call my daughter to pick us up—”

  Expelling a stinky breath, he glowered at me. “Emergency? What a crock. God damned bleeding heart.” The door slammed in my face.

  I stared at the door for a few stunned seconds, wondering if he’d come back.

  I was about to hammer on it again when he reappeared with an old-fashioned grimy beige rotary phone. He threw open the storm door and let me inside a few feet, stretching the cord as far as it would go. “Make it fast. I haven’t got all day.”

  I stepped inside and was hit full force with the odor of garbage. Overflowing trash bags piled beside the refrigerator. A pyramid of empty beer cans towered in one corner. Dirty dishes covered the countertops. An ancient nineteen-inch color television flickered from the opposite side of the small room, tuned to an infomercial. And a sleeping bag had been thrown over the couch from which I had obviously roused the man.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll just be a second.” I took the phone and dialed as fast as my frozen fingers would go. While I waited for someone to answer, a muffled sob erupted from the other side of the room behind a closed door. The mournful sound mirrored the wail of the retriever we’d released from the trap. I glanced toward it.

  Red-beard practically ran to the television to turn up the volume.