Bones in the Backyard Page 4

  Bashia was a head shorter than he, and Mark had an urge to smooth down her tousled auburn hair. Instead, he jammed his hands into his pockets, and felt warm all over. He thought she looked great, even though she was a little chunky; she seemed friendly and definitely curious. How many other ladies joined the Peace Corps after age fifty? These two were certainly unique.

  That made him wonder what he was supposed to call this pair these days–were they ladies, women, gals, chicks, girls? His Catholic schooling had everyone addressed as Miss, Ma’am or Sir, which was fine for contacts at work. This was a work contact, all right, but he hoped to make it more than that. Putting on his hat, he gave a brief wave and an even briefer smile before driving off. His preoccupation with Bashia soon gave way to thoughts of the stack of old files in his office. He sensed there might be a connection with this case. He knew he wouldn’t be able to call it a night until he found out what that was.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Woodstock Town Hall was closed and dark as he drove to the lower level entrance nearest his office. Unlocking the door, he switched on the light and went straight to the file cabinets containing reports of incidents that had taken place in the entire Woodstock area–North, South, East and West. When he first came to his new post he had skimmed the inactive files, promising himself he would get back to them soon to see if there were any that would be worth working on when he had some free time.

  He pulled out the “Inactive” drawer and began flipping through the cold case files, scanning the information. He came to one marked “STODDARD, DANIELLE/ DAN” and experienced a flash of recollection. Aha, this is it! he thought as he took the file to his desk, sank into his chair, and rested his aching leg on the desk.

  The name had brought to mind an uncle who used to work at the Stoddard Mills on the Merrimack River in New Hampshire. At family gatherings in the past, his uncle delighted in telling how “After old man Stoddard died, the family went to the dogs,” which was always followed by a loud guffaw, since everyone knew of Mr. Stoddard’s daughter, Danielle and her preoccupation with dogs. But now there was something else that made him connect with the file–a person missing for five years and still not resolved!

  The Stoddard file was dated 3/8/1994. Jankowski flipped through the moderately thick file of typed statements from all the principals in the case. It also contained Trooper Joe Murphy’s full batch of Connecticut State Police investigator’s forms, listing each person interviewed, the trooper’s description and general impression of them, plus his summary of case data. Jankowski read through the transcripts slowly and carefully this time.

  Elizabeth Stearns from Avon, Connecticut had been the first to report her sister, Danielle, of North Woodstock, missing. Jankowski stopped and looked at the file heading again. Yes, it said Danielle/Dan. What the hell? He shook his head and continued reading.

  The two sisters apparently were not very close, for she hadn’t realized Danielle was missing until friends called in February to say they hadn’t received Danielle’s annual Christmas card. She had been unable to contact Danielle by phone, and when someone did answer the phone it was Chuck Thompson or Terry Vaselekos, who merely said Danielle wasn’t around. She decided she had to visit the home, and drove nervously through the snow to North Woodstock. It was a difficult trip, the roads were icy and slippery but she was determined to get some answers. Once there she was greeted by Mr. Thompson who was quite blasé and unconcerned over Danielle’s absence. She had gone away the previous September, he told her. He reminded her that Danielle had had temper tantrums in the past, and often had taken off for several weeks or months at a time. Just three years ago she had gone to Paris and stayed for three months without saying when she would return. He told Mrs. Stearns he had power of attorney to pay Terry, take care of the dogs and handle other household expenses and he didn’t see any reason to be alarmed. Mrs. Stearns told Trooper Murphy she was not satisfied with Thompson’s reasoning, feeling Danielle loved her dogs too much to leave for an extended period of time without some instructions.

  Mrs. Stearns’s description of her sister’s life was well detailed and depicted an interesting, independent individual, Jankowski thought. Tall, almost six feet and erect, at age forty-five Danielle was healthy and energetic. She had never visited a doctor or dentist. During most of her life she wore her shoulder-length brown hair in a neat, efficient-looking twist. She had brown eyes, a small dimple in her chin and no other distinguishing marks.

  Their parents were wealthy–their father, John J. Stoddard, owned several woolen mills in the Merrimack Valley, near their home in Nashua, New Hampshire. Danielle and Elizabeth both had attended Miss Hall’s School for Girls, in the Berkshires. Danielle had been a stubborn child and was often punished for it, but she never grew out of it, Mrs. Stearns recalled. When she married, for example, Danielle refused to participate in the wedding and insisted on wearing a pants suit to the ceremony.

  Danielle graduated from Miss Hall’s two years later and returned home. Soon after that her mother had died. Being single, Danielle continued to live with their father, occasionally working with him in the mill office but more often spending her time with her four springer spaniels. Her father, on the other hand, felt she should have some work experience and tried to instill a sense of noblesse oblige in her. Back in Nashua she made few new friends, but kept in touch with her former school chums. She became more and more interested in raising dogs, purchasing and training several sporting breeds, and competing in shows. Over the years she increased her kennel to a point where her father began to complain about it.

  When their father died almost ten years ago, Danielle became silent and depressed, Mrs. Stearns said. She began wearing his clothes around the house, refusing to get rid of them. Old school friends told Mrs. Stearns that Danielle had become eccentric, cranky, and obsessive over her dogs. When they mentioned this obsession, Danielle stopped visiting them.

  As time passed, Mrs. Stearns saw less and less of her sister. She knew Danielle had sold their parent’s home in 1989, but she had never visited the North Woodstock property until after her sister disappeared. Proceeds from the sale of the Stoddard homestead had been divided between the sisters and placed in a trust, adding to others set up previously by their parents. Each was easily able to live on the interest from their trusts. Stoddard’s partners took over the business and neither of the sisters had any further connections with the mill.

  Trooper Jankowski stared out the window, comparing his life with the Stoddard family. He grunted, rose to stretch his legs and walked around the desk, reminiscing about his strict Polish childhood. He was good at drawing cartoons but had never thought he could make a living at it. When it became obvious he didn’t want to become a priest and his blue-collar family didn’t have the funds to help him through college, he volunteered for a four-year stint in the Army as an M.P. He loved it and the experience led him to apply for the police academy when his military tour was completed.

  His police career was interesting and rewarding, but it was a constant struggle to provide for his wife and children. He tried to recall when he had last seen his own three children. Since his wife died four years ago, he’d had very little contact with them and they were scattered about the country–in San Francisco, Philadelphia and Brunswick, Maine. He felt he should be making more effort to keep in touch with his family, regardless of costs. How would it feel to never have to worry about money, he wondered?

  He sat down again and continued reading. Elizabeth Stearns’s report about her missing sister ended with an account of the last time she had seen Danielle. She was surprised when Danielle had invited her to the Hanover Shoe Farm Dog Show in the fall of 1991. There she met Thompson, Danielle’s accountant, for the second time. He sat with them in the stands while Terry Vaselekos groomed the dogs. She had met Terry earlier in Nashua when the young girl first started working for Danielle. Elizabeth was also introduced to André Lizotte, a man Danielle had met in Paris and brought back with her.
Mrs. Stearns felt an immediate distrust of him. He had an annoying habit of constantly brushing invisible dust particles off his jacket and seemed entirely bored with the show. He was very good looking, in a feminine sort of way, she reported, but his relationship with Danielle was a mystery to her.

  Elizabeth Stearns had been shocked to see her sister dressed in men’s clothing–a navy three piece suit, white shirt and tie and black wing-tipped shoes. She wore a masculine haircut and even walked with a man’s swagger. That was the last time she saw Danielle, she said.

  Trooper Jankowski found that Chuck Thompson’s interview provided considerably more depth about Danielle Stoddard. At age 58, he was an accountant and owned the Harmony Kennels in Lincoln, Massachusetts. He had a strong reputation for breeding and showing dogs that consistently won top honors. He had met Danielle at one of the dog shows several years ago, and they became good friends, he had told Trooper Murphy, “because she was so interested in learning more about ‘the fancy’, which is what we dog people call our kind. I don’t know where it came from, but it actually is used occasionally in conversation.” Danielle obviously had the wherewithal necessary to become a top competitor if she wanted to, he believed, and it would reflect well on him in some circles if he helped her become acquainted and qualified as a competitor.

  Later, he became more involved when she sought his advice about increasing her number of dogs. She realized her parents’ Nashua property really wasn’t large enough to house and train the dogs as well as she would like–she needed a larger kennel. Thompson had offered to search for a suitable place, since he also dabbled in real estate.

  His friend, Harold Reagan, an attorney, told him of a site he had to dispose of which contained thirty acres in North Woodstock. With plenty of land, Thompson suggested building a modern kennel and offered to supervise the construction for her. She agreed, purchased the property early in 1989 and gave him carte blanche for the kennel project as well as renovation to the house. After she moved into the home, he began to handle more and more of her finances, to allow Danielle and her assistant, Terry Vaselekos, to spend all their time grooming and training the dogs to become champions. She always wore men’s clothing and even cut her hair short, he reported. He assumed she felt it was more convenient in working with the dogs.

  Thompson stated Danielle was well known in American Kennel Club circles and entered her springer spaniels and German pointers in many shows, sometimes spending weeks at a time away from home. Thompson said he had assumed responsibility for Danielle’s entrance applications to the best dog shows and often assisted in packing her yellow and white Dodge Caravan with crates, food, brushes, blankets and other essentials. Things went along smoothly for a year or two, until she took a sudden trip to Paris. She returned three months later with a male friend, André Lizotte, who moved into her house. About that time, Danielle began to grow a mustache and announced that she had legally changed her name to Dan.

  Trooper Murphy noted that Thompson seemed to become uncomfortable and had to be prompted to continue. When he did, he said, “Danielle insisted we call her ‘Dan’, but, pardon the pun, I’m an old dog and it’s hard for me to learn new tricks so she’ll always be Danielle to me.” Aha, thought Jankowski. That’s the explanation of the Danielle/Dan heading on the file! He went back to his reading.

  As time passed, Danielle became close to André Lizotte and began to be curt and rude to him and Terry, Thompson said. He had been helping Danielle Stoddard professionally, explaining about breed standards and what to look for when purchasing a pup, but was not privy to her personal feelings other than her strong desire to own championship dogs. Her relationship with André Lizotte was a total mystery to him since it was obvious Lizotte did not share her love of the dogs or the sport. Then just last summer, as suddenly as he had appeared, Lizotte moved to Worcester, but continued to visit Dan frequently.

  Thompson said the last time he spoke with her over the telephone was the evening of September 13, 1993. Danielle was furious. She had just received notification that her application to the fall Oyster Bay, New York show was incomplete and Millhaven Kennel’s entry was disqualified. She swore at him, ranted and threatened to replace him as her accountant and general factotum. He tried to calm her, saying he would fax a request to resolve the error and submit a new entry in the morning by express mail.

  Their conversation, he related, had ended abruptly with an enraged Danielle shouting obscenities so loudly he had to hold the receiver away from his ear. Then the torrent of foul language ceased. He wasn’t sure whether she had hung up on him or he had accidentally touched the disconnect button. Not wanting her to think she was getting to him, he dialed her back immediately, but got a busy signal. He kept trying every fifteen minutes, but the line was always busy. He stopped calling, assuming she was ignoring him or had left the phone off the hook. He would calm her ruffled feathers in the morning, he thought.

  When he arrived the next morning, he first stopped at Terry’s apartment with her paycheck. She said she was just about to go to the house to discuss a few things as Danielle was taking her to next week’s competition in Boston. When they entered the home, they found the living room a mess, the phone cord ripped from the wall jack, furniture overturned and papers strewn up the stairway. Upon further inspection, they discovered some of Danielle’s clothing was missing and her jewelry box empty. He figured she did all this after their phone conversation, leaving him to fix the problem with the Oyster Bay show registry. He told Terry about the phone call the night before and she became upset so he sent her to the post office with the new application, telling her to take the rest of the day off while he cleaned the place. He said he expected Danielle would return as soon as she calmed down.

  When a week passed without hearing from her, he phoned André Lizotte, but he hadn’t seen or heard from her either. Thompson decided she would come back sooner or later, as usual, and instructed Terry to care for the dogs while he continued attending to financial matters. He saw no reason to suspect foul play, he emphasized. Trooper Murphy asked the accountant to detail his financial arrangements and relationship with Ms. Stoddard.

  Atta boy, Murphy, thought Jankowski.

  Thompson seemed to dodge specifics about this; there undoubtedly was a large amount of money, responsibility and privilege involved. Thompson stated that, as her accountant, he was given power of attorney to draw from a trust account to pay all bills. Trooper Murphy apparently thought that was logical, since there were several years involved in developing a trusting relationship between him and Ms. Stoddard. Murphy made a note that Thompson seemed egotistical and uncompromising, however.

  When Jankowski put down the last page of Thompson’s interview, he found himself pondering the whole investigative process. He wondered how he would feel if his innermost thoughts were challenged the way Thompson’s were by Murphy. Mark had begun to realize how personally invasive the investigative process is, sometimes being meaner and nastier than he would wish to be treated. Maybe he was getting too old for this sort of thing. Perhaps he should retire. He was tired of it all, but the prospect of full benefits at twenty years possessed him. He needed it and to get it, needed to stay two more years.

  André Lizotte’s report was much shorter than Thompson’s, Jankowski was happy to see. It was getting late and he was tired. Lizotte had met Danielle in Paris in the spring of 1991, became her guide around town and then returned to this country with her when she promised to “take care of him”. Trooper Murphy noted that he was an attractive thirty-five-year-old. He was close-mouthed and frequently unresponsive to Murphy’s questions, fidgeting and shifting in his seat during the interview, refusing to make eye contact. He wore an expensive leather bomber jacket and brushed invisible specks from his well-creased charcoal slacks. The tassels on his highly polished black loafer flipped about as he nervously jiggled his foot. He had pampered and patronized Dan, he said, empathizing with her discomfort with her own body. It was his understanding he would liv
e with her and be her mentor, but things had not worked out as well as expected. Dan became increasingly demanding and eccentric. Lizotte found he couldn’t stand the dogs, or the always hovering, annoying accountant–Chuck Thompson. He also longed for companionship of his own sex. So when he found a homosexual community in Worcester about a year later, Lizotte moved in with some new friends. Periodically he returned to visit Dan. He knew nothing of her life before he met her and now wanted to distance himself. His problem, he admitted, was money.

  Trooper Murphy noted that Lizotte was unresponsive to all efforts to draw him into further conversation on the subject of Danielle. It was as if he had said all he intended to and that was that; he had closed his mouth and had nothing more to say.

  Hmm, thought Jankowski.

  The report on Terry Vaselekos was more interesting. She was the youngest in the group, age twenty-four. Murphy had apparently been interested in her, for he described her a little more thoroughly than the others, Jankowski noted, chuckling to himself. “Short cropped, shiny black hair, black eyes, olive skin, an athletic figure, and a little over five feet tall.” She had worked for Danielle for the past six years as a groomer and assistant-trainer and was trying to save money to become a veterinarian. She said Danielle had promised to “take care of her”, knowing she wanted to go to college. Timid and quiet, interested in animals, her life revolved around Danielle and her dogs. She often accompanied her and acted as a handler at the dog shows. Danielle had even bought her a striking black sequined pants suit to wear at the shows. Terry recalled advice Danielle had given her at her first show: “Keep your nose clean, your eyes open and your mouth shut until you know what it’s all about.”