by B. J Daniels
“You’d run like the devil was chasing you if any woman seriously showed an interest in you,” she said, laughing. “Save your sweet talk for someone who cares. I’d be interested to see what you make of the family. Just...be careful. I picked up on some real animosity.”
“You’re worried about me? I knew you had a soft spot for me, Hitch.”
“Just between my ears,” she said and disconnected.
* * *
Ella didn’t know what to make of her encounter with Mercy Hanover Davis. But apparently she and the detective weren’t the only ones looking for Stacy. She couldn’t help her disappointment in not finding her mother, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her.
She drove home, anxious to see if Stacy might have called the ranch. At the main house, she found Dana and Hud in the kitchen. What she overheard as she walked in shocked her. An intruder had knocked down her aunt?
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Ella asked after hearing what had happened at her mother’s cabin. She could see that her aunt was more scared about her sister than before and trying hard not to show it.
“I’m fine,” Dana insisted. “You and Hud don’t have to worry about me.”
The marshal snorted at that and said he had to get back to the office. “Can you stay out of trouble until I get home?” he asked his wife before he kissed her goodbye.
“I’ll do my best,” Dana promised, smiling as she watched him leave. Then she quickly turned to Ella. “Any luck finding her?”
Ella shook her head. She hadn’t learned anything from Nora Cline except that Stacy kept secrets—even from her secret friend.
After being sure that her aunt really was all right, she walked up to the cabins, going straight to her mother’s. The marshal had cleared it after the forensics team had finished. Her uncle had said the intruder had apparently been wearing gloves, so he hadn’t left any fingerprints.
Ella set about cleaning up the mess. Her aunt had mentioned that the intruder might have taken some photos. Dana said she had never seen the photo albums before. Ella realized that neither had she.
Taking them to a chair, she began to go through them, wondering why her mother had never shown her these albums. She’d never seen them before or any of the photos. Nor did she recognize any of the people in the snapshots—except for her mother.
When and where had these been taken? There were photographs of her mother when she was much younger, possibly in her late twenties or early thirties, with people Ella didn’t know.
It felt strange, seeing her mother so young—before Ella’d been born. From the photos, it was clear that Stacy had known these people well. So where had the shots been taken? Not on the ranch or in the canyon, from what she could see.
She found her mother’s magnifying glass. Stacy had been complaining that printed instructions were either getting smaller and smaller, or her eyesight was getting worse. As she studied the photos, Ella noted that they were from different years, different decades, given the clothing. Each year, each decade, there was her mother—often with the same people. The people aged the deeper she got in the album—just as her mother did.
Ella had an idea, gathered up the photo albums and took them to her cabin. Taking out her own albums from the same time period, she compared the photos of herself as a child on the ranch with her mother and family, and realized that she’d stumbled onto something.
There was a photo of her mother in a favorite summer dress that Ella remembered—and there she was in the exact same dress in one of her mother’s photographs from her secret albums with the mystery people.
With a shock, she realized this had to be where her mother disappeared to for days at a time over the years—and it could be where she had gone now. Her mother had two separate lives; she’d been coexisting all these years. A secret life away from Cardwell Ranch.
Why couldn’t Stacy tell them about this place, these people? Why keep it a secret when this other life obviously meant something to her? She wouldn’t have kept the photos otherwise. It made no sense—just like her mother’s moods.
Where was this place that her mother had gone to year after year before Ella was born? She scoured the photos again, looking for something in the background that would give her a clue as to where they’d been taken. If she could find the place, she had a feeling she would find her mother.
Her hand holding the magnifying glass stopped on what appeared to be a sign, barely distinguishable in the background. A bar? Ella looked for other similar photographs until she found one with a more legible portion of the sign. She wrote down the letters she could see and searched for more until at last she looked at what she had written. Hell and Gone Bar.
Her heart beat faster. So where was this place? Recognizing some of the license plates on cars in the background, she noted Montana plates from different years and decades. There were enough Montana tags, she thought excitedly, that the town had to be in the state.
Going to her phone, she thumbed in the words Hell and Gone Bar. She blinked as an older article came up on the screen. The story was about a place in Montana with a photo that made it look like a ghost town. Was anyone left? It appeared that at least a few businesses were still operating when the photo had been taken.
Removing a couple of the snapshots of Stacy and her friends from her mother’s album, people who appeared to have families of their own, Ella pocketed them. If there was anything left in Hell and Gone, Montana, she thought, she would go there. Her instincts told her that it was also where she would find her mother.
But as she thought it, she realized that she wasn’t the only one with photos from this other place, this other time. Whoever had broken in had taken some of the older snapshots. By now, the intruder could have also figured out where Stacy had gone.
Chapter 9
Jane Frazer was a surprise. Hitch put the woman who answered the door somewhere around forty-five. An attractive brunette with wide gray eyes, she wore a suit and heels, explaining she had been called into her office earlier and had only just returned.
“You’re a doctor of psychology,” Hitch said once they were seated in her neat, modern living room.
“I blame the Hanovers for that. Spending time in that house would make anyone crazy.” Jane laughed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not polite to use the word crazy anymore. Unfortunately, dysfunctional just doesn’t cover families like Marvin’s. I was fourteen when my mother died. Fortunately, a maiden aunt of mine came and rescued me.”
Hitch was delighted to get this kind of insight into the family dynamics and said as much to the doctor.
“Oh, my view is too biased to be clinical,” the woman admitted. “So, what exactly do you want to know?”
“I’m curious. Your text with your address said that you would meet with me, but only if I didn’t let anyone in the Hanover family know where you were.”
Jane raised a brow. “When I tell you what I know about Marvin, I think you’ll understand. I haven’t been around his offspring in years, but I would suspect the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Marvin was a very dangerous man.”
“You said you thought at one point that he’d killed his first wife and your mother. Do you still feel that way?”
Jane nodded.
“Any idea who killed him?” Hitch asked.
If Jane was shocked by such a direct approach, she didn’t show it. “Any number of people.”
“Family members?”
“Definitely. They all hated him. The only reason they put up with him at all was because of the money.”
“So I’ve gathered, but what kind of money are we talking?”
The doctor shrugged. “Apparently, a fortune. He’d inherited it from his father, who had made the money in shady deals back East before moving to Montana. Marvin’s father is the one who built the house. Have you seen it?”
&nbs
p; Hitch nodded.
“Like his father, Marvin didn’t trust banks. At least, that was his story. I suspect the money hadn’t gone into the bank because it would then be traceable and—even worse—taxable. The story was that the bulk of his fortune was hidden somewhere in that maze of a house—and Marvin was the only one who knew where. Believe me, everyone in the family tried to find it, myself included. It was this delicious mystery.” She chuckled. “As far as I know, he never revealed where it was. He had this key he wore around his neck and guarded with his life.”
A key? Like the one Waco said had been found in the bottom of the well? “Like to a safe-deposit box?”
Jane shook her head. “It was larger and odd-shaped. More like to a building or a steel door somewhere.”
“What was your first thought when you heard about Marvin’s remains being found in the old homestead’s abandoned well?” Hitch asked.
“Someone found a way to get that key and now has his fortune.” She smiled. “Once they start spending the dough, you’ll have your killer.”
“And if they didn’t get the key?”
Jane frowned and seemed to give that some thought. “How disappointing. Unless, of course, the killer just wanted Marvin dead.”
“Stacy Cardwell?”
“She wasn’t the only woman who wanted him dead. There was another woman before Stacy, but just for a short time. Her name is Lorraine Baxter. She’s in a county nursing home now. I can give you the information, but she has mild dementia. If you can catch her on a good day, she’ll probably be happy to tell you why she had every reason to want to see Marvin at the bottom of a well. Or then again, she might not,” Jane said with a chuckle.
Hitch thanked her and left.
Once behind the wheel, she called Waco. His phone went to voice mail. She left him a message highlighting what she’d learned and giving him Jane Frazer’s phone number and address. “She’s expecting your call. You might want to talk to a girlfriend he had between her mother and Stacy. Her name is Lorraine Baxter. From what I heard, she might have had reason to want Marvin dead. But so did the rest of his family members, according to Jane.” She left the name of the nursing home in Livingston.
She’d gotten only a few blocks along when her cell phone rang. Seeing it was her fiancé calling, Hitch was already smiling when she picked up. “Hey,” she said into the phone.
“Hey. You working?”
“Actually, I just finished.”
“Good,” Ford said. “Mind going to dinner at the ranch? Dana’s got a giant pot roast on. I think she just needs the company tonight,” he added. “I suppose you heard.”
“I got called in on the case, but once I realized who the deceased was, I pretty much just notified the relatives. I’m now leaving it to the investigator, cold-case homicide detective Waco Johnson. I’m sure he’ll be talking to everyone in the family.” Silence filled the line for so long, she thought they’d been disconnected. “Ford?”
“Sorry, I was just closing the gate here on the ranch. I wasn’t referring to a case, but maybe I was. Dana was up in Stacy’s cabin earlier. There was an intruder. He knocked her down on his way out.”
“Is she all right?” Hitch asked quickly.
“Just bruised. I’m sensing it’s connected to this case you mentioned.”
“I would imagine,” she said. “What is Stacy to you?”
“My dad’s cousin. Does that make her a second cousin? I don’t know. Still close enough that I’m glad you aren’t involved. Must be hard for you, though.”
She laughed. “It is an interesting case, but like I said, I’m stepping away. Is that why you called?”
“No, actually. I just called about dinner. Dana is getting the whole family together. It’s what she does when there’s trouble. Can you make it?”
Hitch glanced at the time. “I probably won’t make dinner, but I’ll definitely make dessert. I’ll meet you there.”
* * *
Waco got Hitch’s message and decided to swing by the nursing home. He had hired a private investigator to watch Cardwell Ranch and follow Ella if she left again.
In the meantime, all he could do was keep investigating Marvin Hanover’s death without Stacy. She would eventually have to show up.
Unless someone got to her before he found her.
The notion had come from out of nowhere. Could she have run because she was in danger? From Marvin’s family? Or from someone else?
Lone Pine View turned out to be an assisted-living facility in Paradise Valley. It looked and felt more like a resort, he thought as he got out of his patrol SUV and entered the ultramodern facility.
Lorraine Baxter wasn’t in her room. He was directed to the tennis courts, where he saw two fiftysomething women in great shape in the middle of a vigorous game of singles. Lorraine, it turned out, was the attractive redhead who tromped the other woman in the last set. She was still breathing hard when Waco walked up to her.
“Nice game,” he said, recalling what Jane had told Hitch about Lorraine having mild dementia. He wondered what this place cost a month and what a person had to do to get in here. If Lorraine had gotten in because of her dementia, he had to question how bad it was. She sure hadn’t had any trouble remembering the tennis score.
He introduced himself, getting no more than a serene eyebrow lift at the word homicide. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Marvin Hanover.”
Lorraine motioned to a patio with brightly colored umbrellas and comfortable-looking outdoor furniture. Two women appeared to be having tea at one of the far tables, but other than that, they had the place to themselves.
“I’m not sure how helpful I can be,” Lorraine said.
“Because of your dementia?”
She smiled. “Because it’s been so long since I dated Marvin, let alone was engaged to him—neither for very long.”
“Who broke it off?” he asked.
A waiter appeared at the table. “Would you like something, Detective?” Lorraine asked. “They serve alcoholic beverages.”
He wondered if she thought all cops drank. At least she hadn’t suggested doughnuts. “I’m on duty, but thanks anyway.”
“Then I’ll take a sparkling water and a gin and tonic with lime.” The waiter nodded and left. “I’m sorry. You asked who broke it off. Actually, it was mutual.” She shrugged.
“You knew about his other fiancée and his wife’s death?”
With a chuckle, she nodded. “Terrible accidents. Poor Marvin.”
Poor Marvin? Waco stared at her until the waiter brought her drinks and left again. “From what I’ve heard about Mr. Hanover...well, he wasn’t well-liked.”
“Really? I found him delightful.” Smiling, she glanced around the facility.
He took a wild guess. “Marvin is putting you up here?”
“Why, yes, he is, even in death,” Lorraine said.
“I hate to even ask how much—”
“Wise not to,” she said. “It’s mind-boggling what they charge. But it is a nice place, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say. But what I really want to know is how it is that Marvin is paying for it—‘even in death’?”
She gave him an innocent look. “Well, when we mutually agreed to part ways, Marvin insisted on taking care of me for the rest of my life.” She blinked her blue eyes and Waco got a glimpse of the young, beautiful woman who’d conned Marvin Hanover into taking care of her.
Waco let out a low whistle. “Neat trick, if you can pull it off. What did you have on him? It would have to be something big with enough evidence to put him away for life—if it ever came out.” All he got from the attractive redhead was another blink of eyelashes and that knowing smile. “Does his family know?”
She chuckled. “I doubt it, since I’m still alive.”
He realized she wasn’t
joking. “You think they would have killed you years ago if they knew how much this was costing their father?”
“In a heartbeat. So let’s keep it between us. Even with my insurance, that bunch is so unstable, I wouldn’t trust them to have good judgment. Anyway, that’s not why you’re here. You want to know who killed him. You don’t have to look any farther than that house of vipers. They all hated him, desperately wanted his money and couldn’t wait for him to die.”
“What about you? He could have changed his mind after he met Stacy Cardwell and wanted out of the deal he made with you.”
“Our deal was ironclad,” Lorraine said as she touched a diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist. “There was no getting out of it. And if I die of anything but natural causes before I’m eighty... Well, he wouldn’t want me to do that and besmirch the family name. Marvin worried about his legacy.”
“So, just to be clear, you didn’t want him dead?” Waco asked.
“I didn’t care one way or the other,” she said, draining her sparkling water before reaching for her gin and tonic. “But I have to admit, I haven’t missed him. Not that I had any contact with him after he married Stacy. I admired her for holding out for marriage—even knowing what happened to the others.”
“Maybe she thought she would make out like a bandit the same way you did,” he suggested. “I understand his first wife’s jewelry disappeared at some point.”
Lorraine’s laugh was bright as sunshine. “Really? How sad. Marvin wanted me to have it.” She shrugged.
Waco shook his head. “You must have had proof that he killed his first wife and his fiancée.”
Lorraine didn’t admit it. But she also didn’t deny it. “I got lucky. But I don’t think things went as well for Stacy.”
Waco didn’t think so, either. So why had she married him? He watched the woman finish her drink as quickly as she had her water.
“I need to go change,” Lorraine said, excusing herself. “I have a massage soon. I hope I answered all of your questions.”
