Crack the Code (Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Shannon VanBergen

  Irene growled. “Greta said we were using too many ‘bad words’.” She used air quotes to emphasize the words. “She told us we couldn’t make it one week without using one and this flibbity biscuit over here,” she pointed to Hattie, “told her she was wrong! Before I knew it five hundred dollars was on the table.”

  My eyes about popped out of my head. “Five hundred dollars!?”

  “Well, I wasn’t about to back down!” Hattie said. “Plus, it will make for a good story later, when we’re spending our money!”

  Irene rolled her eyes. “We have four more days to go and I’m not sure we’re going to make it.”

  Grandma put some tea bags and sugar on the table. “Well, I think it’s good for you two. You need to expand your vocabulary a little.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “And it will be fun for the rest of us to watch you two struggle.”

  “You laugh,” Irene said, her eyes narrowed. “But just wait until you hear what we came up with to call you!”

  “You call me names behind my back?”

  “Girls, girls,” Grandma said above the whistling tea kettle. “Just ignore them Nikki. This is like coming off of an addiction for them. They’re going to be grumpy until they get it all out of their system.”

  The front door swung open and Virginia walked in with Greta right behind her. I loved how the grannies were like family and no one knocked. I looked up and saw Grandma smiling so I assumed she liked it too.

  “Did you see what was in the paper today?” Virginia asked.

  “Oh yes,” Grandma answered, grabbing more teacups. “I’ve already had a little chat with Winston.”

  Greta shook her head. “What is going on with Delores? She used to be so good, so factual, now she writes opinion articles and calls them facts.”

  “That’s the way the media is heading,” Virginia said shaking her head. “Now we’re left to sift through it all to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.”

  “Well, I found her piece on lowering the speed limit over by the park riveting,” Hattie said. She smiled. “I said riveting! My vocabulary really is improving!”

  Irene nudged her. “You only thought it was riveting because it included that picture of the commissioner in a sleeveless shirt!”

  “Yes,” Hattie added. “And that part where it talked about how him and his wife were separated.”

  “See what I mean!” Greta added. “Why was that even in there? And they’re not even separated. She went up north to help take care of her parents for a while.”

  Grandma sat at the table. “Maybe we’re being to rash to blame her. Maybe something is going on in her life that is causing her to lash out. One of us should probably invite her to tea, see what’s going on with her.” We all just looked at her, blankly. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it myself! Maybe it will be nice to visit with her.”

  My phone rang and I had a call from a number I didn’t recognize. I answered it while the grannies continued their conversation. When I hung up, I looked at Grandma. “Well, it looks like you’ll be seeing Delores sooner rather than later.”

  “Why’s that?” Grandma asked.

  “Because she just called me and said someone left a note for me at the Newspaper and she wants me to come and get it. And I’m not about to go there by myself.”

  8

  We pulled up at the little brick building downtown. A minute later we were standing inside, the smell of burnt coffee filling the small receptionist area. We sat in some very uncomfortable metal chairs while someone went to get Delores. There was a stack of magazines on the little table next to me, so I picked up a People magazine that had a picture of George Clooney and a beautiful woman in a wedding dress on the cover.

  “George Clooney is getting married again?” I said out loud. “What happened to Amal?”

  Grandma looked alarmed and took the magazine. “It’s dated October 2014. Don’t scare me like that.”

  I looked at the cover and sure enough it was from 2014. You’d think a place like this would at least have up to date magazines. As I flipped through it, it suddenly hit me – since when did I care about celebrities? And how did I even know Amal’s name? Grandma was really rubbing off on me.

  Halfway through an article about the Property Brothers, the receptionist came back with a short woman who looked to be in her sixties. Her blond hair framed her round face and skirted her shoulders. She looked like the sweetest person on the planet.

  “Geraldine,” she squealed, “It’s so good to see you!” She gave her a hug and then she looked at me, waiting for an official introduction.

  “Delores, this is my daughter’s daughter, Nikki.” She never called me her granddaughter because it made her feel old.

  Delores’ face got serious. “I heard that I overstepped some boundaries again. I’m so sorry. But I would like to add that I think you and Detective Owen would make a lovely couple.”

  “Well, they’re not a couple,” Grandma pointed out, “and that had no place in that article.”

  “I agree completely,” Delores said sweetly. “I hope you accept my apology.”

  She was looking at Grandma and Grandma gave her a nod. “We accept.”

  Well, that was that then.

  “How have you been?” Grandma asked her. “Is Rusty still living at home?”

  Delores nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, it was four years ago last week.”

  Grandma’s eyes got big. “Four years, already?”

  “Yep,” Delores said, still forcing a smile. “It’s been interesting having a grown child move back in. But in some ways, it’s been nice. Like today for example. I had forgotten my lunch at home, again, and he brought it to me.”

  “Well, that’s very nice,” Grandma said to her. “I’m glad he can be a help to you. How is his health?”

  “His diabetes has been under control for years now. You know my daughter has it too, right? They both take insulin, and so far things are going smoothly.”

  I could tell Grandma wanted to ask more questions, see if there was anything else bothering her, but she held back. Clearly Delores had been under a lot of stress lately with her son living at home and two children with health problems. That could make anyone not act like themselves.

  “And John Asuza,” Delores said shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. “His death was so tragic.”

  That surprised Grandma and me. She was the first person who seemed even remotely upset that he was dead.

  Delores turned to me and smiled a real smile. “This was found on the receptionist’s desk today. It has your name on it.”

  She handed me a white envelope; my name was printed on a label in the middle of it. “What is this?”

  “I don’t know. It’s sealed so I didn’t open it. An admirer perhaps?” Delores smiled. “Or possibly someone read the article in the paper this morning and has questions for you. That happens sometimes.”

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the small piece of paper. I was immediately confused.

  XZMWKKCXQML

  “What does this mean?” I asked, reading the little note twice, in case I missed something.

  I handed it to Grandma and she looked at one side, then the other. “I have no idea what this means.”

  She handed it to Delores who looked just as confused. “That’s just weird, if you ask me. Why would someone send you random letters?”

  Suddenly I remembered the message in the bottle that Piper had found. “It’s a code!” I yelled. I needed to talk to Owen immediately.

  9

  Owen was at the police station and told me I could stop by. Even though I hadn’t told him exactly what was going on, I did tell him I had some possible information on the case. He had responded with, “Of course you do.”

  On the way over, I called Annalise and asked her to text me Piper’s number. Before I had even pulled into a parking spot at the station, she had sent it. I typed in Piper’s number as I sat in my car.

&n
bsp; “Hey Piper,” I said when she answered. “This is Nikki, Annalise’s friend.”

  She sounded exhausted. “Hey Nikki, what’s up?”

  “Have you had a chance to figure out that code you found?”

  “No,” she answered. “I haven’t even wanted to look into it. I just haven’t felt like myself since Saturday.”

  Finding a dead body will do that do you.

  “Well, I know this sounds crazy, but someone just sent me a code in an envelope, and I think they’re connected. Can you take a picture of your code and send it to me?”

  She perked up. “Of course! You don’t think it has to do with that guy’s death, do you?”

  “Possibly,” I answered honestly. “I’m at the police station now. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  She sent me a picture of the note and I emailed it and a picture of my code to myself and to Grandma Dean – just for safe keeping.

  As soon as I walked in, the guy sitting at the front desk snickered at me. “Here to see your lover?” He had seen the paper. Most likely this was going to be just the beginning of the lover jokes. “He’s in a meeting but you can go on down. I’m sure he’ll be done soon.” He chuckled to himself as I walk past him. “If the office is a rockin’, I won’t come a knockin’! Or maybe I will!”

  I walked down the hall to Owen’s office, and I heard his voice. He was laughing and talking to someone. I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about his laugh that did that to me.

  Two men walked out of his office and were laughing too. Owen thanked them for coming by and they said hello to me as I stood next to his doorway. “Who was that?” I asked as I walked in and Owen closed the door behind me.

  “That was Justin and Reed, two well-known snake guys in the area. I had some questions and they came in and answered them for me. Real nice guys, but they kind of ruined the outdoors for me.”

  I laughed. “That bad, huh?”

  “They say knowledge is power, but I have to admit, I’m more freaked out than ever. They showed me a video of what happens to blood when it’s mixed with venom. You can find it online, but don’t. It’s fascinating but disgusting.”

  “So, you’re still thinking John Asuza was murdered?” I asked.

  Owen nodded. “And from what Justin and Reed said, it wouldn’t be that hard. They showed me this video where someone put plastic wrap over a glass and held it tight with a rubber band. They held the snake up to it and it bit the plastic wrap, and when it did its venom dripped into the glass. All you’d have to do is use a syringe to suck up the venom and inject it into someone.”

  “Yikes! That’s frightening.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “And since I’ve seen the video myself, I’m even more convinced that’s what happened to Mr. Asuza.”

  Owen rifled through the stack of papers on his desk like he was looking for something then he sat down. “Give me just a minute.” He pulled out his phone and made a quick call. “Hey Cranston, you know those guys who just left my office? I’m going to send you a quick text where they were around the time of Asuza’s murder. I’m sure they’re clean but let’s check their alibi’s just to be safe.”

  He hung up the phone and smiled at me. “So, are you here to talk about the fact that we’re lovers or do you actually have something to tell me about the case?”

  “Grandma Dean had a talk with the guy who runs the newspaper and there’s supposed to be a written apology to us tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Owen said, looking through the papers again. I couldn’t help but notice that his office was a mess. It was the complete opposite of his house. His house was so clean and modern and this…this looked like something straight out of a crime show. Not only was his desk littered with stacks of folders but there was a stack on his printer as well. The fake plant in the corner was covered in dust and a dried puddle of what I assumed was coffee sat next to his desk.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have too much going on today. I thought I’d have more time to talk but I need to find something and run it down to…” He looked up from his pile and saw that I was glancing around his office.

  “I know, it’s a mess. One of these days I’ll get around to cleaning it.”

  “I could help you,” I suggested.

  He laughed. “Now how would that look, me making my lover clean my office.”

  “Ha ha! Very funny,” I said sarcastically.

  “So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” He seemed so distracted I almost said I’d talk to him about it later. But I felt like this was important enough it needed to be discussed now.

  “Do you know anything about geocaching?” I asked him.

  He looked up at me and winked. “I know sometimes you find a dead body.”

  “Well, from what Annalise and her friends tell me, that’s not the norm. Anyway, you find the cache and sometimes there are little trinkets inside. If you take one, you have to leave something in its place.”

  Owen was still frantically searching through his piles. “Are you listening to me?” I asked.

  “Yes…trinkets…leave one, take one…”

  “So, Piper, one of the friends with us, took a message in a bottle out of the cache on Saturday. When we looked at the message it had a code on it. That was is it, just a code. She thought it was just a fun little game, but today I got a code too.”

  Owen looked up, concerned. “You got a code? What do you mean?”

  I explained the note left for me at the Newspaper office and I pulled it out and extended it to him. He walked over and took it.

  “This was left for you in an envelope?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you have the one your friend found?”

  “I have a picture,” I told him. “I’ll text it to you.”

  “Are you the only one who touched this?” he asked.

  “No, Grandma Dean and Delores from the newspaper did too. And now you.”

  He cursed and walked over to his desk drawer and pulled out a bag. “I’ll have this analyzed for prints.”

  “Do you think this has to do with Mr. Asuza’s murder?”

  “I don’t know” he said, dropping the paper in the bag. “I doubt it. Murderers usually try hard not to get caught. They don’t typically send people codes and do things that will end in their demise. This is most likely someone who read about you in the paper and isn’t sick enough to murder someone, but is sick enough to mess with them.”

  He finally gave me his full attention. “Please be careful. There are some real crazies out there, and for some reason, they seem to gravitate toward you.”

  “Like you?” I teased.

  “Oh yes,” he said with a sly smile. “That’s exactly why we’re pretend lovers.”

  I left the station not really feeling like Owen took the whole code thing seriously. He obviously had a lot on his mind and the codes weren’t a priority. I didn’t care what he thought – I felt like it was a real possibility that they were connected to the murder.

  My phone rang and it was Grandma Dean. I answered it and put her on speaker.

  “Nikki,” she said as soon as I answered. “John Asuza’s mother lives in our retirement community and Virginia got ahold of her and asked if she felt up to talking with us and she said yes. We’re heading that way in a few minutes. We can wait for you if you want to come with us.”

  “I’m about five minutes away," I told her. “I’d love to come with you.”

  This should be interesting.

  10

  John Asuza’s mother had the creepiest apartment I’d ever seen. Dolls lined every surface and each one stared right into your soul. And if that wasn’t creepy enough, in the middle of her table, where one might have a bowl of fruit as a centerpiece, she had a bowl of doll heads.

  “I make them,” she said, a plume of cigarette smoke coming out of her nose and mouth, possibly even her eyes and ears. There was so much smoke. Her walls were a sickly yellow, stained from y
ears of smoking. She coughed and it reminded me of the sound of dice in a cup when you play Yahtzee. Things rattled in her chest and she spit phlegm in a can of root beer like one would spit when they were chewing tobacco. She was not well, but she didn’t seem to care.

  “Thank you for letting us come by, Florence,” Grandma said as she moved a doll wearing a long pink lace dress so she could sit on a chair in the living room. “I’m so sorry about your son.”

  Florence picked up a basket and rummaged through it, pulling out a ball of yarn and a crochet hook. “It’s terrible. He was such a lovely child. Never liked snakes. No, he had hamsters growing up, though. Lots and lots of hamsters.”

  “Dear,” she said pointing to me. “See that box right there, the round hat box with the pink flowers?” I turned to look and, in the corner, there were boxes of various sizes, colors and shapes. I found the one she asked for and started to bring it to her, but she stopped me. “Can you look through that and find me a matching pair of arms about yay big?” She moved her pointer finger and thumb about three inches apart.

  I opened the lid and it was full of baby doll arms. I found her a left and right and brought them to her. “You have a good eye!” she complimented. “Now, look in that long blue one and pick me out some legs.”

  “Did any of you know my Johnny?” Florence asked us. We all shook our heads no.

  “Aw, you really missed out. He was a competitive kid from the moment he could play anything clear up until the day he died.”

  “I looked him up online,” I said to Florence as I looked through the box of legs. “It looks like he played just about every sport.”

  “Oh, he loved sports, any kind of game really. It didn’t matter if it was on a field or on a board at the dining room table. If it was a game, he played it. He had a gift. He was good at everything he tried.”

  She got quiet for a minute. “But I suppose money and fame made a lot of things go to his head. I don’t know if you knew this about him, but he was a bit cocky.”