Dead Giveaway

by Joanne Fluke

  Vanessa glared at Laureen. “Jane Fonda’s only good for women over forty.”

  The indicator light over the elevator blinked and Grace got out. Alone.

  “Sh . . . shucks!” Moira gave a delighted laugh. “Grace! On a snowmobile?”

  Grace nodded. “You never thought anything would drag me out in the cold. Right, Moira?”

  “Right.” Moira rushed to embrace her, then poured her a cup of coffee. “I’m really glad to see you. But whatever possessed you to drive all the way up here?” Grace just smiled and Moira’s face turned slightly pink. “Well! It’s just incredible, that’s all. You’re the last person I expected to see. But Jayne said there were two people on the snowmobile. Who’s with you?”

  “That’s a surprise. Clayton took him out to check on the building. They’ll be up here in a couple of minutes.”

  Jayne’s heart began to pound in excitement. Who knew enough about the building to check on it? A structural engineer, of course. Or a builder. Or an architect. And he had to be someone they knew. If Grace had come up here with a stranger, she wouldn’t have said it was a surprise.

  The indicator light on the elevator blinked again and Clayton got out, followed by a man holding a red and yellow ski mask.

  “Paul!” Jayne jumped from her chair and ran across the floor to meet him, barely managing to keep from throwing her arms around him. “My God! What happened to your suit?”

  “It is in the mothballs. Are you well, Jayne?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, but the avalanche almost killed us all and poor Jack’s leg is broken something awful and just now I found a . . . a hand in our pool. And at first I thought it was yours!”

  Paul looked down at her in total confusion. “You thought my hand was in the pool?”

  “Yes, they have such a high suicide rate in Scandinavia. But that was only at first, before we found out that it was at least four years old. And I wrote you a song, but they’d never give it airtime on a classical station and I just couldn’t call you on the phone. Something about talking into those little holes is so dang impersonal and I like to see a person’s face when I . . . oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “I think you had better sit down, Jayne.” Paul led her over to a chair and sat down beside her. “You are beginning to sound like Grace.”

  Marc came over with a mug of coffee and set it down in front of Paul. “Here, Paul. Drink this. I put some brandy in it.”

  “Thank you.” Paul wrapped one hand around the mug, but he kept his other arm firmly around Jayne’s shoulders. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection in public, but he didn’t want to let her go. “Will you join us, Marc? And I would be very pleased if one of you will tell me about the hand from the pool.”

  It took five minutes with everyone talking at once, but finally Paul had the complete story. “So you can understand why we need to notify the police right away,” Clayton continued, moving his chair closer. “As Marc pointed out, there’s the possibility that the bones are artificial, but we need the authorities to confirm it and we can’t contact them by phone or e-mail. We don’t have any means of communication at all now that Jack’s shortwave radio is broken.”

  Paul could see that Clayton was looking at him expectantly. “Is there something you wish me to do?”

  “Yes. I know this is an imposition, but you obviously know how to operate the snowmobile. We think you should go back to get the police. As soon as you warm up, of course.”

  Jayne stared at Clayton in absolute shock. “No way, Clay! If you’re all fired-up to report those old bones, get your tail in gear and do it yourself!”

  “She’s got a point, Clay.” Marc laughed. “You’re the only one here who thinks it’s an emergency.”

  “Is that so? No one else thinks we should go to the police immediately?” Clayton waited, but no one spoke up. “All right, then. I’ve never shirked my civic duty. Come on, Rachael. Let’s go!”

  Rachael frowned. “How did I get in on this? I agree that we have to file a report, but there’s no reason why it can’t wait until someone digs us out. Driving down the mountain at night on the back of a snowmobile is not my conception of civic duty.”

  Clayton was about to make a sharp retort when he saw the tears that had gathered in Rachael’s eyes. She was clearly terrified at the prospect of leaving and he reached out to pat her hand. “You’re right, honey. The police can wait. I guess I just got rattled there for a minute.”

  “Cabin fever.” Grace nodded. “I read a book about a family trapped in a blizzard, and how they were all going crazy knowing they couldn’t get out, and the snow was rattling against the windows, and the wind was howling louder than a pack of wolves and they’d used up the last of their food three days ago, and . . . I know, Moira. I’m babbling again.”

  Moira grinned. “I hate like h . . . heck to say it, but I was already beginning to miss your babbling. What do Norwegians do when they get cabin fever, Paul?”

  “My grandfather carved the furniture in winter while Grandmother needled.”

  “She what?”

  “Perhaps the word is not right, but she used big balls of wool to make mittens and stockings.”

  “That’s called knitting,” Moira told him. “But they did something to take their mind off the weather, is that right?”

  “Yes. The winter in Norway is many months.”

  “Well, I don’t make furniture and I sure can’t knit.” Jayne began to smile. “Maybe we could do some work instead, like packing up Johnny’s stuff. Will you guys help me?”

  “I will help.” Paul was the first to offer even though he was tired from his long trip. Jayne had obviously been glad to see him, but he didn’t know if her warm welcome would be extended to sharing their bed. There was bound to be an awkward moment and it might be wise to delay it as long as he could.

  One by one the others chimed in, all except Vanessa. “I’m not setting foot in Johnny’s place. Those two guys might be hiding out in there.”

  “What two guys?” Hal turned to his wife with a frown.

  “The mean-looking ones that were there the day he left. I went down to say good-bye, but I split right away. They were straight out of The Godfather.”

  Alan pointed at the glowing indicator over the elevator door. “Somebody’s coming.”

  “Probably those mean-looking thugs from The Godfather, ” Laureen suggested with a chuckle. “Maybe they’re afraid Vanessa can identify them so they’ve come back to get rid of her.”

  Vanessa jumped up. “I don’t think that’s very funny! You wouldn’t either if you’d seen them.”

  “Just take it easy, Vanessa.” Marc reached out to pull her back into her chair. “There’s nobody hiding out in Johnny’s unit. I personally guarantee it. I’ve shown it to buyers.”

  Vanessa nodded. “Okay, I believe you. But who’s coming up on the elevator?”

  “Probably Betty’s nurse. I stopped down there to tell her we’d be up here if she needed us.”

  The elevator doors opened and Walker stepped out. While Marc rushed to get him some hot coffee, Jayne turned to catch the smile that was spreading across Ellen’s face.

  “Walker! How did you get here?”

  “I took the KLV helicopter to the ranger station, and then I skied down. Who was on that snowmobile I heard?”

  “Paul and Grace,” Moira spoke up. “What’s in the backpack, Walker?”

  Walker handed it to Ellen. “The dye Ellen wanted. And a couple other items for survival in the wild. So fill me in, Moira. What happened?”

  While everyone talked at once, Ellen unzipped the backpack and peered inside. Along with the dye were two other packages. She opened the first and discovered a bottle of her favorite Fumé Blanc, perfectly chilled. The second package looked like a shoe box and she almost laughed out loud as she lifted the lid and found fluffy white slippers with the face of a bunny on the toes. Just yesterday she’d mentioned that she needed new slippers. Silly and whimsical, thes
e were the sort of thing she adored but would never have considered buying for herself.

  “What did he bring you?” As Vanessa tried to peer into the backpack, Ellen closed it quickly.

  “Just some things I needed from town.”

  “Like what?” Vanessa wasn’t the type to give up easily, but Ellen knew everyone would tease her mercilessly if she showed them her new slippers. She glanced at Walker and saw that he was grinning, waiting for her to think up some way out of this awkward situation.

  Ellen cleared her throat. “I told you, Vanessa. There’s the dye for my mannequins and some alcohol. And then, there’s . . . uh . . . something personal I needed.”

  Vanessa zeroed in. “What is it, Ellen? You can tell us.”

  Ellen noticed that Walker was still grinning and she shot a daggerlike look. “It’s nothing, Vanessa. I have a little problem with the hare on my feet.”

  “You have hair on your feet?” Vanessa glanced down, but Ellen was wearing boots. “That’s really gross, Ellen. I hope Walker brought you a good depilatory.”

  “Hold it!” Hal stood and held his arms up in a bid for silence. “My child-bride just used a five-syllable word. Cause for celebration.”

  “Cut it out, Hal. I know lots of five-syllable words. I even know one that’s eleven. Antidisestablishmentarianism. So there!”

  “I’m impressed, Vanessa. Now spell it.”

  While Vanessa sputtered, Ellen glanced at Walker, who was cracking up. “We’re going down to pack Johnny’s things. Want to come along?”

  “Sure.” Walker sobered instantly. He’d heard enough bits and pieces of gossip to put the whole story together, and packing her former lover’s possessions was bound to be an ordeal for Ellen.

  Jayne spoke up. “Maybe we can find an address or a telephone number. I have to know where to ship Johnny’s stuff and I don’t have a clue.”

  “I guess I’d better help you then,” Vanessa offered. “I learned how to search for clues by watching Columbo.”

  Marc snorted. “Do you have a rumpled raincoat?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, Vanessa.” Marc exchanged a sympathetic glance with Hal. “But if you come across a Sandy Koufax ball, I could sure use it. I know Johnny bought one at the auction last year.”

  Vanessa looked puzzled. “What kind of ball was that?”

  “A baseball. Sandy Koufax was a pitcher and it’s a ball from his perfect game.”

  “Okay, Marc.” Vanessa nodded. “I’ll look around for a used baseball. But wouldn’t you rather have one that’s brand-new?”

  EIGHT

  “This gives me the creeps.” Vanessa shivered a little as they stepped into Johnny’s unit.

  “What do you think we’re going to find?” Marc chuckled. “Johnny’s corpse?”

  Vanessa turned to him in alarm. “Don’t say that! Nobody’s heard from Johnny since I saw him with those scary guys.”

  “It’s all right, Vanessa.” Marc was still grinning. “I told you I showed this unit, and I would have noticed if Johnny’s body was here.”

  “You didn’t open every closet, did you?”

  Hal laughed. “If Johnny’s body was stuffed in a closet, we wouldn’t be able to get within a hundred yards of this place. Relax, child-bride. I guarantee there’s no body here.”

  “But how can you tell?”

  Hal groaned. “Use your head, Vanessa. Have you ever smelled hamburger that’s gone bad?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Let’s change the subject,” Walker interrupted, noticing that Ellen was turning pale. “Is the electricity still on? We didn’t bring flashlights.”

  “Hold on.” Moira patted the wall until she found the switch and the hallway flooded with light. “Does anyone have a game plan?”

  Jayne shook her head. “I thought we’d just start stuffing things in boxes.”

  Moira shook her head. “That’s not the way to do it. I suggest we split up into groups. Do we have packing materials?”

  “Johnny said he’d leave boxes and tape in the hall closet.” Jayne opened it and looked inside. “Yup. Everything’s here. Even a couple of wardrobe boxes and a dish pack.”

  Moira took charge. “There’s a lot to do so let’s get our uh . . . tails in gear. Jayne and Paul? Why don’t you pack up the music rooms since you know about pianos and musical instruments. Ellen and Walker can help you. Grace and I’ll take the living room. Marc? You start in on the master bedroom and Laureen and Alan can pack up the kitchen.”

  “Why do people always put me in the kitchen?” Laureen complained.

  Alan put his arm around her shoulders. “Because you’re the expert. You’ll know what to pack and what to throw out.”

  “That’s right,” Moira confirmed. “No insult intended, Laureen, but I wouldn’t know a truffle from a trifle and neither would anyone else in this group. Clayton and Rachael can take their pick of the rooms that are left over. And then they can wander around and poke their noses into everything, since they’re the lawyers.”

  Rachael laughed. “That’s your conception of lawyers? People who poke their noses into everything?”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it quite that way.” Moira grinned. “Vanessa and Hal? You’d better take the den. There’s a lot to pack in there. And if anyone finds a clue to Johnny’s whereabouts, just holler.”

  Grace looked impressed. “You’re really organized, aren’t you, Moira?”

  “Just used to directing my work crews. Is everyone set?”

  Hal pulled Vanessa toward the den. “Come on, we’d better get started.”

  “But they never start with the den on Columbo!”

  Hal propelled her through the door. “Johnny practically lived in that room. If he left an address or a telephone number, it might be in there.”

  “Oh.” Vanessa looked slightly mollified, but she turned to deliver a parting shot. “At least we didn’t get the kitchen. Laureen’ll probably dig through the garbage to find out what Johnny had for his last meal.”

  Laureen started to sputter and Alan put his arm around her. “Easy, honey. Vanessa’s just jealous, that’s all.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of you. You’ve got a husband who’s crazy about you. That’s more than she’ll ever have. And she’s too young and too stupid to understand why.”

  Laureen looked up at him suspiciously. “Do you really think she’s jealous of me?”

  “Of course. All she has going for her is her looks. You’ve got that plus a lot more.”

  Grace looked pleased as Laureen and Alan headed for the kitchen. “How sweet! They’re actually holding hands. Think Laureen’s finally forgiven him?”

  “Maybe.” Rachael shrugged. “And maybe not, but it’s a good sign. Come on, Clay. I’m beginning to think Vanessa’s right. Something really could have happened to Johnny. Let’s start with the bathrooms.”

  “The Harris case. Good thinking, honey.”

  “Hold it a second.” Moira stopped them. “What’s the Harris case?”

  “It got a lot of press last fall in the scandal sheets,” Clayton explained. “Harris was a doctor in Boston. His wife’s friends got worried when she didn’t show up for her bridge club a couple of weeks in a row and called the police. Dr. Harris told them that his wife had packed up all her clothes and left while he was at the hospital. He said he was so embarrassed that he hadn’t told anyone. Since it was common knowledge that Mrs. Harris had been involved with several other men, the police were ready to file a missing person report and close their investigation.”

  Rachael picked up on the story. “Then some smart woman detective searched the house and found his wife’s contacts in a bathroom drawer.”

  “That was the turning point.” Clayton took over the story. “The optometrist confirmed that Mrs. Harris was too vain to wear glasses and she was legally blind without her contact lenses. It was so unlikely she would leave them behind that the police reopened their investigation.”
r />   “Did they eventually locate Mrs. Harris?” Paul asked.

  “Oh, yes.” Rachael nodded. “Dr. Harris had used some kind of acid to dissolve her flesh. Her skeleton was hanging in his lab at the hospital.”

  Jayne stuck close to Paul as they entered the huge music room. Even though she was sure they wouldn’t find Johnny’s skeleton, the Harris story had still unnerved her. Then Paul flicked on the lights and the sight of Johnny’s collection took her mind off her concern. He had twenty museum-quality pieces in his studio, all set off with spotlights.

  “Look at this!” Walker walked over to the huge upright mahogany cabinet in the center of the room. “It’s awfully big. Did people actually have these in their homes?”

  Jayne shook her head. “They were usually in restaurants or hotel lobbies. Do you want me to show you how it works?”

  Walker nodded and Jayne flicked the switch. The two antique lamps on either side of the mahogany cabinet began to glow and the doors in the center slid open to expose a full-size piano keyboard. “This is an orchestrion. It mechanically replicates the sound of an entire orchestra. The music is recorded on a roll, just like a player piano, and those little levers behind the glass activate the whole thing. I think it plays a Strauss waltz, but I don’t remember which one.”

  Ellen laughed in delight as the orchestrion began to play. “Tales from the Vienna Woods. I never could play that last part right.”

  “You played the piano?” Jayne turned to her in surprise.

  “I tried to play the piano,” Ellen corrected. “I was so awful that I finally convinced my mother that lessons were a waste of money.”

  “Were you awful on purpose?”

  “Of course not!” Ellen stopped and looked slightly guilty. “Well . . . maybe I didn’t exactly apply myself. It made me mad when I had to stay inside to practice. My mother was raised in the old school. She believed a girl should learn to embroider, play a musical instrument, and draw. I managed to learn how to draw, but that’s only one out of three.”

  “That’s not a bad average.” Walker’d been around long enough to realize that Ellen had made a career out of selling herself short. “As Marc would say, they sure won’t kick you out of the majors for batting three thirty-three.”