A Vintage View of Murder

by Mary Maxwell

  “Better now?”

  “You look spectacular, sweetie,” I said. “But I’m still dubious about Tammy’s advice.”

  “There’s no reason to doubt her just because she’s young,” he said. “Heck, Katie. We were both young once.”

  I groaned. “Maybe about a century ago,” I said. “Some days I feel as old as dirt.”

  He leaned over and cupped my chin. “Today’s obviously not one of those days,” he said. “You look fresh as a daisy.”

  I glared at him. “Where’d you get that one?”

  His cheeks turned pink. “Same place.”

  “From the new graphic designer?”

  Zack nodded. “It was on the bulletin board in her cubicle.”

  “Alright, I give up,” I said. “I’m almost twice her age. She hasn’t seen her first wrinkle. And she’s probably never heard of Olay Regenerist.”

  “Neither have I,” Zack said with a big smile. “What is it?”

  “It helps me look fresh as a daisy,” I said. “And mark my word, there will come a day when Tammy needs it, too.”

  He laughed. “Touchy, touchy! It must’ve been one hell of a day at Sky High.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I replied. “Maybe it’s the guest list. We keep putting it off and putting it off. I’m worried that our Save the Date cards won’t go in the mail until the night before the ceremony.”

  “Very funny,” Zack said. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen. We can get this thing done tonight if we put our minds to it.”

  “I know,” I said. “You’re totally right.”

  “So where do we begin?” he asked.

  I looked at the bowl of popcorn. Then I glanced at Zack again. And then I suggested that we could both probably benefit from a short drive and some fresh air.

  “Before we get started?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Any particular destination?”

  I smiled.

  “Ice cream?” asked Zack.

  “Aha!” I said with a playful laugh. “You really can read my mind!”

  He got up from his chair, stood behind me and kissed the top of my head.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll drive. You can bring one of these pads and we can call out names on the way. Then we’ll be killing two birds with one stone.”

  “Sounds like a winner to me,” I said, pushing back from the table. “Let me make one quick stop and I’ll meet you in the car.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Julia was cursing at the waffle iron at nine o’clock the next morning when I came back from helping Harper in the dining room.

  “Are you two having an argument?” I asked.

  She hissed. “No, it’s me! This is the third time that I’ve attempted to get Herb’s waffle done the way he likes.”

  “I wondered what he ordered,” I said. “I saw him out there with Mr. Schilling.”

  She glanced at the two elderly customers through the pass window.

  “If they’d both just go back to oatmeal and dry white toast,” she grumbled, “my life would be a whole lot easier.”

  I laughed. “You can blame that on Blanche Speltzer,” I said. “She started doing workshops for seniors at the Community Center.”

  “About what?” Julia asked. “How to be as demanding as possible in restaurants?”

  “No, but that’s probably on her upcoming list,” I said. “The first seminar is about learning to take risks and be more daring in your retirement.”

  Julia thought about my reply. Then she jiggled the waffle iron handle and leaned down to check the progress.

  “A couple more seconds,” she said. “If I mess up this one, I’m going home for the day.”

  I watched as she hovered over the waffle iron. When she finally lifted the top, the golden brown disk inside was perfect. We both waited silently after Harper retrieved the order and delivered it to Herb. After what felt like ten minutes, Harper finally returned with the verdict on Herb’s breakfast.

  “Jules?” she whispered.

  “Please tell me that it was okay,” Julia said.

  Harper slid a twenty dollar bill across the stainless steel shelf.

  “That’s your tip,” she said. “Don’t buy anything that I wouldn’t buy.”

  Julia’s face lit up with a vivid smile. She grabbed the money, slid it into her apron pocket and did a little happy dance down the front line from the grill to the deep fryer and back.

  “That is so sweet,” she said. “And all because he liked the waffle?”

  Harper shook her head. “Actually, you can thank Blanche,” she said. “Herb told me that he’s trying to do a better job of tipping when he goes out to eat.”

  Julia clapped her hands. “Mission accomplished!” she said. “I’m going to have to pop out in a second to thank him for being so generous!”

  “He’d love that,” Harper replied. “But he won’t love me if I don’t get back out there with more syrup.”

  After she left, I started to ask Julia about one of the final special orders on the whiteboard, but my phone rang. When I checked the display, I saw Dina’s office number.

  “Do you mind if I take this?”

  “Not at all,” Julia said. “I’ll wait until you’re back before I go out to see Herb.”

  “Deal,” I replied, swiping the screen to accept the call.

  “What are you doing right now?” Dina asked as soon as she heard my voice.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” I said.

  She laughed. “Sorry, Katie. I’m running to a meeting with Alison Brewer and wanted to talk to you before I get to the conference room.”

  “Who’s Alison Brewer?”

  “She’s our new public information officer,” Dina told me.

  “What happened to Shelly?”

  “She quit.” Dina’s sigh hinted at drama and discord. “Without any notice at all.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her,” I said. “What happened?”

  She sighed again. “It’s a long story. Let’s save that for another time.”

  “Okay,” I said. “In that case, which story should we talk about instead?”

  “The one where Evie Hale tries to pull the wool over my eyes,” Dina said.

  I laughed. “That doesn’t sound like you’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” she replied. “I went by her office to talk to her about the items in the briefcase that Maureen turned in. I didn’t tell Evie how we came to be in possession of the ransom note addressed to her father, but she denied the incident ever happened in the first place.”

  “Maybe she was reluctant to dredge up trauma from the past,” I suggested.

  “Or not,” Dina said quickly. “When I explained the reason for my visit, Evie’s entire demeanor changed. She went from warm and bubbly to ice princess in less than ten seconds.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like her,” I said. “She’s usually civil and—”

  “I’m sorry,” Dina said. “I thought that I’d have enough time, but Alison just got off the elevator. Can you do me a favor?”

  “Name it,” I said.

  “Will you please talk to Evie again?”

  “Really? Why would she be more forthcoming if I ask about the kidnapping?”

  “Because you’re a lot sweeter than me,” Dina said. “Plus, you’ll show up with a dozen of her favorite Sky High cupcakes and a big, beautiful smile.”

  CHAPTER 15

  We’d just closed for the day when Dina called again to let me know they’d officially identified the remains found on Mariposa Road as Caroline Whitman.

  “I suspected that would be the case because of the medical alert bracelet,” she added. “But it still felt like a punch to the gut. Her parents have been on tenterhooks since Tyler and I went by to give them the news that we were working new evidence in the case.”

  “Do they have the official word on identification?” I asked.

  “They
do. I went by earlier this afternoon,” Dina said.

  “That’s a difficult conversation,” I replied.

  She sighed heavily. “Among many others that we have in this job.”

  “Was that area searched ten years ago?” I asked.

  “It was,” Dina said. “But the notes in the case file also described a series of tips that sent us in the opposite direction.”

  “Were the tips anonymous?” I said.

  Dina released a withering sigh. “Unfortunately,” she said. “You know, sometimes those can be incredibly helpful. But other times, they waste time and resources. People want to see a resolution to the situation so the family can have something like closure.”

  “Either way,” I said, “it adds to the frustration for everyone involved.”

  “Yes, it does,” Dina said. “Just like something else that I learned from Caroline’s parents today. They received a series of post cards from her after she was reported missing.”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “That wasn’t in the file from ten years ago.”

  “It actually was,” Dina said. “I hadn’t mentioned it yet because I wanted to see if we had a positive match on the remains.”

  “Well? What’s the story?”

  “There were six cards,” Dina began. “They arrived every few weeks with a short message on the back. The first one was an apology to Caroline’s parents for leaving town without telling them. She claimed to be in love with a new boyfriend and determined to be out on her own.”

  “Wasn’t she doing that here?” I asked.

  “I can’t explain it,” Dina replied. “Caroline’s mother and father were pretty shell shocked. I didn’t see the wisdom in pressing them too hard about things. There will be time for another conversation in a day or two.”

  “Where are the original cards?” I asked.

  “In the evidence lockup,” Dina said. “I have copies in my office. I’ll show you the next time you stop by.”

  “Or could you email them to me?”

  She laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I’m a little slow this afternoon. I’ll send them to you shortly. And I know that you know this, but—”

  “I won’t show them to anyone else,” I said. “You can count on me to be circumspect.”

  “Thanks, Katie. It probably gets old hearing that same disclaimer, but I think it’s a good reminder for all of us to treat evidence, witnesses and the case with discretion.”

  “I understand,” I said. “And I completely agree.”

  “I know,” she said. “When you get the email later, take a close look at the handwriting. I’ll send a sample from something that Caroline wrote for comparison. Whoever forged the post cards did a nearly flawless job.”

  “So you’re certain that they’re forgeries?” I asked.

  “They have to be,” she replied. “Based on the results of the tests run in the Crime Lab, the remains found on Mariposa Road have been in the ground for just over ten years. The first card was postmarked about three weeks after Caroline was last seen.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So you think the person that abducted and murdered Caroline sent the cards to her parents to create the illusion that she was still alive.”

  “That’s the most likely scenario,” said Dina. “Unless we’re dealing with a truly sadistic perp who wanted to do something that would add insult to injury.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s essentially what they’re going through now,” she replied. “When they received the cards after their daughter vanished, they hoped that she was still alive. And now that we have proof that Caroline died ten years ago, the memories of that hope is adding further pain.”

  “Ah, okay,” I said. “I’d have to agree with your assessment.”

  “You should’ve seen the look on their faces when they talked about those cards this afternoon,” Dina said. “It was crushing to witness; like the hope they’d held so closely for so long suddenly shattered in an instant.”

  “What was the cause of death?” I asked.

  “Her neck was broken,” Dina said. “But there were also notches on a couple of ribs that suggest she may have been stabbed as well.”

  “So awful,” I said, thinking about the terror that Caroline experienced during the ordeal.

  “There was one more thing,” Dina said.

  “About the cause of death?”

  “No, it was some additional evidence found with the body,” she said. “Caroline’s wrists had been bound with gray duct tape. It’s a match to the roll in the briefcase that Maureen found at Vintage View.”

  “One step closer,” I said.

  “You’re right,” Dina replied. “And I hope the next one takes us to the killer’s door.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Louella Flint was kneeling beside a flowerbed in front of her house when I drove up that afternoon. A wheelbarrow sat nearby holding two bags of potting soil, a flat of daisies and a radio blasting Michael Bublé. She was dressed in faded jeans, a gingham blouse and Crocs. The only telltale clue that she was over the age of sixty-five were a few wrinkles around her eyes and the silver hair spilling out from beneath the Broncos cap on her head.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she called after I honked and got out of the car. “What a delight, Katie!”

  I made my way up the sidewalk as she dropped the trowel, got to her feet and turned off the music.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Let me look at you.” She took both of my hands in hers. “You resemble your mother more and more every time I see you.”

  I smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “Well, it’s the honest-to-God truth,” she replied. “I think you and your sister both look just like a younger version of Audrey.”

  “Don’t let her hear you say that,” I suggested. “She’s also getting more and more sensitive about her age.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense,” Louella said. “I heard someone on the news the other day say that our sixties are the new forties.”

  “It’s just a number,” I said with a smile.

  She made a face. “Well, I’ve never been very good at math. Or worrying about getting older. It’s part of the deal, whether we like it or not.”

  “True enough,” I said.

  “So what brings you by?” Louella asked. “Did your mother send you to check on me?”

  “Actually, I’m helping the police with a cold case,” I said.

  She nodded. “Audrey told me that you might be doing some sleuthing. It’s nice that you can still use your detective skills and help Deputy Chief Walsh and the other folks.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “And I feel lucky that I can help out now and then.”

  “So what’s the cold case all about?” she asked. “Is Marla Sheen still trying to find out who spray painted graffiti on her garage?”

  I smiled. “I haven’t heard about that one.”

  Louella laughed. “It was a few weeks ago,” she explained. “In the middle of the night. When Marla went out the next morning to leave for work, she found a horrible thing written on the garage door in black paint.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t really want to repeat it, Katie. But it made reference to her…” She lifted one hand and made a circular motion in front of her chest. “You know she had some work done, right?”

  “Breast reduction surgery, wasn’t it?”

  Louella blushed. “Yes. She was having a terrible time with her lower back and whatnot, so who can blame her? I just think it’s a shame that some jackass was rude enough to put up that graffiti about it.”

  “That is rude,” I agreed. “And she doesn’t know who did it?”

  “She has her suspicions,” Louella said. “But I don’t think it matters. The best part was Arnie Lyons and Homer Figg got out there while Marla was at work and painted over it. She was speechless when she got home from the office.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said. “Those
two old guys are good role models for younger people in town.”

  “That they are!” Louella smiled. “So what cold case are you helping on?”

  “It’s actually the Evie Hale and Caroline Whitman kidnappings,” I said.

  Her smile vanished. “I’ve been expecting someone to ask me about all of that,” she said. “Tobias told me at tai chi last night that you’d been by to see him.

  “Tai chi?” I smiled. “At the Community Center?”

  “That’s right,” Louella said. “It’s excellent for improving balance, leg strength and range of motion.” She arched an eyebrow and winked. “It’s also a great place to meet single men of a certain age, but we can chat about that another time.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll be curious to hear about your adventures.”

  She blushed again. “I don’t know about that, but I’m still optimistic that I might meet a nice gentleman at some point before they put me six feet under.”

  “And we’re a long way from that,” I said.

  “I hope so,” Louella replied. “Now tell me how I can help with your investigation.”

  “It’s my understanding that you were working for Evie’s family at the time of her abduction, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you mind talking about that with me?” I said.

  Louella folded her arms over her chest.

  “Unless it’s too upsetting for you,” I added. “Detective Kincaid asked me to see what you might recall about what it was like in the Hale household during that incident.”

  “The same as always,” she said. “Just worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, c’mon now. Surely you’ve heard people gossip about Sean and Rosalind Hale. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen two people more unsuited for marriage. I kept quiet about it when I worked for the family. But now that they’re divorced and I’m working at the hospital, it doesn’t seem necessary.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d have to agree with you.”

  “Not to mention that I believe in being tactful about private matters,” she added. “Nobody should go throwing stones, since we all have faults and flaws.”