Page 26 of In the Bones
Terry Martino was not what Tim had been expecting. When he and Shana were getting ready to restore the old Victorian, before they realized they couldn’t afford outside help and decided to tackle the work themselves, they’d interviewed a contractor about the job. That experience, along with an inordinate amount of time spent in hardware stores, had led Tim to form a blanket impression. When he heard the words “general contractor,” he pictured dusty Carhartt pants and a paint-splattered work shirt worn over arms hardened by manual labor and a middle softened by too much canned beer.
Nothing about Terry fit the image in Tim’s mind, from his height—six and a half feet, at least—to his fashion jeans and desert boots, which appeared to be spotless suede. The fair hair that receded from his domed forehead was lush and meticulously styled. The guy looked better suited to handing out samples of oaked chardonnay in a liquor store, but Tim knew well that looks could be deceiving.
Terry’s current project, which Tim had discovered by calling the contractor’s office and speaking with an affable secretary named Saige, was way out in Parishville at the edge of six-million-acre Adirondack Park. The home he’d been hired to renovate was a gut job, by the look of the wall studs Tim could see through the open front door, and it was nestled in the north woods right on Blake Falls Reservoir. Though the house was huge, its rough-and-ready appearance and proximity to the water reminded Tim of his old cottage on Goose Bay. He loved his current home, but he missed that spot sometimes. It had been a place of solitude and peace, until it became the site of a shoot-out that had left Tim with a spray of dimpled scars across his right thigh. A reminder of the time he’d almost lost Shana for good.
Tim had found Terry lingering near his black BMW in the front yard, which was littered with equipment and sawdust.He’d had to wait until the man, who was pacing back and forth across the patchy grass, finished a call before introducing himself.
“I’d like a minute of your time, if you can spare it,” he said when Terry was done. “It’s about a recent project of yours. The renovation work you did for Mikko Helle?”
“Sure, sure. That house is a beauty.” There was reverence in the timbre of his voice, Tim thought. “Would you like to sit?”
They crossed the grass to a gazebo at the periphery of the woods. With its decorative braces and bright white paint, the structure would have been more at home on a turn-of-the-century fairground, but as the house was bustling with workers, Tim was grateful for a relatively quiet place to talk. In interviews with both witnesses and persons of interest, he paid close attention to tone and body language, especially when sharing news about a death. Terry Martino was appropriately shocked when he learned that human remains had been discovered in the basement of Mikko’s home.
“Well shit,” he said, his back flush against the gazebo’s railing. “I know a drywall repair guy who found a stash of creepy old dolls in a wall, but bones in a secret room? That’s a first for me.”
Same, thought Tim. “As you can imagine, we’re keen to find out who might have had access to that basement.”
Terry was nodding. “Sure, of course. The work we did was all on the first and second floors. I’m sure the electrician and plumber went down there at some point, and I’m happy to put you in touch with them.”
“And you started in March?” Tim confirmed.
“That’s right.”
“Were you in the home at all around the time that Mr. Helle bought it?”
“Sure,” he said again. “We met there a couple of times in the fall to talk about the plan, and so I could put together an estimate.”
“Mr. Helle didn’t mind that you wouldn’t be able to start work till March?”
“I did warn him I was booked solid until the spring, but it wasn’t an issue. He lives in D.C.,” Terry pointed out. “Didn’t need the place until the summer anyway.”
“And in the fall and winter,” Tim went on, “did you or any of your crew visit the house?”
Terry raised his eyes to the gazebo’s ceiling. “Not that I can think of. I don’t see why we would. I live in Hammond, but I take projects all over the place. This past winter, I split my time between Gouverneur and Watertown.”
“What about Mr. Helle?” Tim said, taking down some notes. “How many visits did he make after meeting with you?”
Terry’s eyebrows shot up. “No idea. The property was his, he could come and go as he wanted, but it’s a long way from D.C.”
“Surely you must have met with him recently? To show him your progress on the house?”
“I sent him photos all the time.” Terry paused to scratch his clean-shaven jaw, releasing a wisp of cologne from his shirt. It was strong and floral and reminded Tim of a garden at nighttime. A beat, and then Terry added, “But he did come once in person.”
“Can you recall the date of that meeting?”
The man hesitated before taking out his iPhone and pulling up a calendar app. He searched for “Mikko,” then turned the phone around to show Tim a date. Saturday, April sixteenth. Terry told Tim that Mikko had come for the weekend.
“I mostly gave him updates by phone,” Terry explained as Tim jotted more notes. “Or on FaceTime so he could see the progress. But like I said, there could have been other times when Mikko was in town. I wouldn’t know about those. Look,” he added, “you should know that place was a revolving door for months. I try to keep the homes I’m working on locked up, but with my crew and subcontractors coming and going all day, that doesn’t always happen. It’s not like I’m sitting around keeping watch. I’ve got half a dozen jobs on the go at all times, so I’m mostly in my car, hopping from site to site.”
Hopping. The use of the word reminded Tim of Jenny Smith. The phrogger. “OK,” he said. “When youwereat thehouse, did you ever see a stranger on the property? Maybe a redheaded woman in her mid-twenties?”
“A redhead? I don’t think so. The only woman I ever saw was the girlfriend. Her hair’s not red, though. She’s Chinese, I think, or maybe Korean. Gorgeous girl. Eve?”
Tim said, “Do you mean Mr. Helle’s girlfriend, Eva Ki?”
“That’s her. She came with Mikko in April. He was trying to impress her, kept asking me to explain what it was all going to look like. We had only done the outdoor stuff at that point, so there wasn’t all that much to see. Mikko seemed happy, though. Can I ask something?”
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to answer,” said Tim.
