by Joanne Fluke
“You think you’re a pretty smart little cookie, don’t you?”
Hannah kept mum. It was a rhetorical question and he didn’t really want an answer. And all the while her mind was spinning, trying to think of some means of escape.
“I assume you figured out that I planned to meet up with Vanessa in Lake Eden after her husband was killed?”
“Killed?” Hannah couldn’t help asking. Her only chance was to keep him talking and perhaps some escape route would open up for her. “I thought her husband died of natural causes.”
“Oh, he did.” Winthrop laughed a mean little laugh that didn’t bode well for Hannah. “The pillow Vanessa put over his face was filled with goose down, and you can’t get more natural than that.”
Hannah came very close to groaning out loud. Winthrop was admitting too much and there was no way he was going to let her go. If she couldn’t figure out some clever way to stop him, she’d wind up as dead as the goose who’d given up the down that had smothered Neil Roper.
“Vanessa wouldn’t cut me in. I thought that was pretty rotten, considering we’d hatched up the whole scheme together. She said she should get all the money since she’d had to put up with the old man for almost a year.”
Hannah judged the distance between Winthrop’s gun and her own position. Too far. Even if she were a martial arts expert, which she wasn’t, she still wouldn’t be close enough to kick the gun out of his hand.
“The first day she got to town, I went right over to see her. I figured everything was just fine, you know? We had long-range plans in place and both of us had done our part. But all that money had changed her. She thought she was too good for me. She actually had the nerve to threaten to turn me in as a fugitive if I didn’t get out of town right away.”
Hannah knew it was risky, but she risked a comment. “But you didn’t get out of town. You’re still here.”
“That’s because it was a standoff between us. She couldn’t turn me in, because I knew exactly how she killed her husband. And I couldn’t turn her in, because she knew I’d escaped from prison.”
“So why didn’t you let it go on like that, a standoff with nobody getting hurt?”
“Because we had a deal, that’s why! And because she was trying to get out of it!” Winthrop’s eyes glittered with hatred and Hannah was sorry she’d asked. “There was no way I was going to let my partner get away with that!”
The words flashed before Hannah’s eyes, been known to work with a female accomplice. Vanessa Quinn Roper was the female accomplice mentioned in the printout Norman had given them.
“I kept my end of the bargain. They would have reduced my sentence if I’d named her, but I didn’t.”
Hannah was reminded of a phrase her Grandma Ingrid had used. There was no such thing as honor among thieves. Once the code of ethics had been broken in one area, it was weakened and that much easier to break in another area.
“I couldn’t let her get away with threatening me, not after I taught her everything I knew and helped her get started. It was just a question of waiting for the right time.”
“The wedding,” Hannah breathed, remembering how Winthrop had gone to get the rice for her mother.
“That’s right. I let everybody see me at the church with your mother. And then, when I forgot the rice in the car, I told her I’d run right out and get it.”
“And you did. But not until after you’d taken a little side trip to the Magnolia Blossom Bakery.”
“That’s right,” Winthrop said, beaming at her like a teacher rewarding a bright pupil. “You catch on fast. Too bad you’re so honest. You would have made a great partner.”
Hannah wasn’t sure if she should thank him or not. Being considered for the position of accomplice to a con man wasn’t exactly a compliment. She felt around behind her for something to use as a weapon, but the only things that came to hand were soft pillows. And then she heard honking. Andrea was honking her horn in the parking lot, but she wasn’t supposed to honk unless Winthrop drove up. And Winthrop, or Bobby Joe, or whatever his real name was, was right here pointing a gun at her. “But Vanessa wasn’t at the bakery that afternoon,” she said, still stalling for time.
“That’s right, but I didn’t know that.”
Hannah looked down at the package in her lap. It was the framed picture of Winthrop and Vanessa, and the frame had sharp edges. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do if she couldn’t find anything else. She just hoped that Andrea wouldn’t try to come up here and walk straight into trouble. “So what happened when you got to the Magnolia Blossom Bakery? It was snowing, right?”
“That’s right. It was snowing pretty hard by then. I went around to the back of the shop and I saw Vanessa taking something out of the oven.”
“But the woman you saw wasn’t Vanessa.”
“I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. The window was steamy and I wiped it a little on the outside. That didn’t help much. Then I fired the first shot through the window, but I missed her.”
“You fired two shots?”
“That’s right. She turned and I nailed her. I didn’t realize I’d killed Shawna Lee until the next day. That was when Delores told me that Vanessa had gone to Georgia for a couple of days.”
“So you killed the wrong sister,” Hannah said.
“It’s just a temporary setback. I’ll get Vanessa when the time is right. I just have to wait until your disappearance blows over.” Winthrop gestured at her with the gun. “Get up. We’re going to the basement. There’s a little room next to the furnace and I’ll put you there. It’s noisy and nobody can hear you scream.”
“You’re going to…kill me?” Hannah asked, still stalling for time. Shouldn’t the cavalry arrive about now? Or shouldn’t her sister start honking the horn again to distract him?
“Of course I’m going to kill you. You’re smart enough to know I can’t let you live.”
“How about Mother?” Hannah asked, her heart beating hard at the thought that Winthrop might harm her mother. “You won’t hurt her, will you?”
“No reason to hurt her. She’s a foolish old lady, but that’s the way I like them. The old ones are grateful for the attention.” Winthrop stopped and frowned. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Hannah asked, although she’d heard something, too. It had sounded like someone was outside in the hallway, but she wasn’t about to mention that.
“I thought I heard something.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Hannah said, praying that the cavalry, any cavalry, was coming.
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now. You’re actually doing me a favor, you know? The old lady’s been worried that you don’t like me. Now you’ll be out of the way. I’ll give her lots of love and comfort when she hears about her daughter’s tragic accident and she’ll give me even more money.”
Hannah clutched the picture frame. She’d learned something. Winthrop was planning to disguise her death as an accident. That meant he wouldn’t shoot her unless he had no choice, because there was no way he could explain away a gunshot as a tragic accident.
“Get up. Now!” Winthrop waved the gun again.
Hannah stood up, watching his eyes. The slightest evidence of inattention and she’d lunge with the picture frame, and pray for the best. That was when something happened that shocked both of them. The front door to the apartment flew open and a whirling dervish blew in.
“You unmitigated scoundrel!” Delores shouted. She grabbed an umbrella from the stand next to the door, held it in front of her like a foil, and hurtled it at Winthrop full bore.
“Mother!” Hannah screamed, lunging for Winthrop’s arm with the picture frame and succeeding in knocking the gun out of his hand.
Winthrop yelped in pain as the point of the umbrella plunged into a soft spot near his shoulder. It wasn’t a killing blow, but he was down and Hannah jumped on him before he could get back up. “Find something to tie him up with, Mother.”
&nb
sp; “Certainly,” Delores said, recovering some of her equilibrium. “How about an extension cord? There’s one behind the television set.”
“That’ll be fine. Just unplug it and hand it to me. And then call the paramedics.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s bleeding. The point of the umbrella went into his chest.”
Delores shrugged. “He’s not bleeding that much. I’ll call the sheriff’s department and tell them to come. They can decide if he needs the paramedics.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, bowing to the higher authority of a woman who’d been insulted. It was obvious that Delores had heard what Winthrop had said about her.
Since it was a long extension cord, Hannah bound Winthrop’s hands and his feet, trussing him like a Christmas goose. Then she spotted his robe on the back of the bathroom door and took the belt to gag him. There was no way she was going to let him insult her mother again!
“Why do you have him gagged, dear?” Delores asked, coming back from the kitchen where she’d gone to use the wall phone.
“He’s said enough. I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Very good.” Delores gave Hannah an approving nod. “The dispatcher said a squad car should be here any minute.”
“It can’t be soon enough to suit me. Thank you, Mother.”
“For calling the sheriff’s department?”
“No, for getting here in the nick of time. You saved my life.”
Delores gave a little shrug. “Perhaps I did, but you were very good with that picture frame.”
“Thanks, Mother. What were you doing at the door? Coming in to give Winthrop money?”
Delores looked nonplussed for a moment and then she gave Hannah a questioning look. “That doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“Not really. Not the way it turned out. The bad guy’s down and the good women won.”
“That’s the way it should be.” Delores perched on the arm of Winthrop’s sofa. “So what did you think of my technique, dear?”
“What technique?”
“I took fencing in high school. Of course we used foils and not umbrellas, but the concept’s the same.”
“Your technique was perfect, Mother. You won the match.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Delores gave a pleased smile.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hannah signed her statement and passed the pen to her mother, who signed hers. They were sitting in one of the interrogation rooms at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department and they’d been there for the better part of an hour, waiting for their statements to be typed. Since Andrea had been in her car the whole time and not party to what had happened in the apartment, Mike had told her to go home to her children, and Bill would take her statement in the morning.
“We’re clamping a lid on this,” Mike warned them. “I don’t want either one of you to say a word about what happened.”
Hannah started to frown. “But Winthrop…I mean Bobby Joe, told me that Vanessa killed Neil Roper. He said they planned the whole thing together. Isn’t that enough to arrest her?”
“It would be in most circumstances, but this one’s a little tricky. Bobby Joe Peters is an escaped felon. His word isn’t highly credible. And the alleged murder took place in Macon, Georgia. That’s way out of our jurisdiction. I think we could get away with arresting her and getting the warrant from Macon later, but I don’t want to take the chance that some smart lawyer could get the case dismissed on a technicality.”
“That makes sense,” Delores said, sipping the coffee that one of the deputies had brought her. She made a face and Hannah sympathized. The coffee at the sheriff’s station was awful.
“I guess I can understand how you’d have to be careful to follow procedure,” Hannah said, “but aren’t you afraid Vanessa’s going to hear that Bobby Joe was arrested and take off?”
Mike shook his head. “Not if you ladies don’t talk. Bill already warned Andrea, and now I’m warning you. Mum’s the word.”
“Mum’s the word,” Hannah repeated, because Mike seemed to expect it. “But we’re not the only ones who know you made an arrest. How about the secretary who typed our statements? And the other deputies who saw you bring him in cuffed? They know, so we’re not the only ones who know, you know?”
Hannah gave a little groan as her last sentence replayed in her mind. She’d always prided herself on having decent grammar and a good command of the English language, but she’d just used the word know three times in one sentence.
“That’s not a problem. The only other people who know are sheriff’s department employees. They can’t talk.”
“You mean mustn’t. If they can’t talk, they’re mute,” Hannah mumbled under her breath.
“What was that?” Mike asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself. Are we through? I still have some things to do today.”
“We’re through.”
“Thank goodness!” Delores looked very grateful. “I’m going to tell Andrea that she should do something with this room now that Bill is the sheriff. This institutional tan paint is dreadful. Perhaps she could put a nice pale yellow on the walls, since there aren’t any windows. That would make it a lot more cheerful. And new furniture, of course. I’ll never understand why they bothered to bolt down these chairs. No one in their right mind would want to steal them!”
Mike smiled at her and Hannah could tell he was amused. “You’re absolutely right. This furniture is pretty bad, but it’s an interrogation room and it doesn’t have to look good. See that rub mark on the arm of your chair?”
“This?” Delores touched a spot where the paint had worn off and the metal showed through.
“Yes. Those scratches are from handcuffs. We leave one hand free so the suspect can write, and the other is cuffed to the arm of the chair. That’s why the chairs have to be bolted down.”
“Oh,” Delores said. “I didn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know. I really doubt that you’ve been in an interrogation room before.”
“You’re right.”
Delores gave a little laugh and Mike joined in. So did Hannah. She was glad Mike was handling her mother so well. Delores had suffered a big shock this afternoon and her pride was bound to be at low ebb.
“Thank you very much for your cooperation,” Mike said, smiling at both of them. “I know giving your statement hasn’t been fun, but it was necessary.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Hannah quipped, but she quickly sobered when Mike didn’t laugh. “Sorry. We’ll be going then. And don’t worry about us saying anything. We won’t.”
Mother and daughter were silent as they headed out to Delores’s car. Once they were buckled in, Delores turned to Hannah. “Do you have to go straight home, dear?”
“Not really,” Hannah said, reacting to her mother’s expression. Delores looked dejected.
“Do you have time to get a cup of coffee somewhere?”
“Of course I do,” Hannah said, because if she didn’t have time, she’d make time. Then she glanced at her watch in the light from the dash. It was five forty-five and winter darkness had closed in. “Let’s go back to The Cookie Jar and I’ll put on a fresh pot. Lisa’s gone, but there’s bound to be some cookies left. I had a whole bag for you when I started out this afternoon, but Andrea ate them all while she was waiting for me in the car.”
Instead of the outraged expression Hannah had expected, or the good-natured laugh that would acknowledge her middle daughter’s love for Hannah’s cookies, or even a comment about how Andrea had best start watching her weight, Delores just nodded. That made Hannah worry. And what made her worry even more was the fact that her mother didn’t ask what kind of cookies they’d been. Delores always asked. At least, she had always asked in the past.
Delores drove through the silent streets to The Cookie Jar. There was only the swoosh of an occasional car as it passed by on the other side of the road, heading home to he
arth and family. When Mike had first moved to Lake Eden, he’d commented that they rolled up the streets at six o’clock in the winter. Except for bright lights spilling out of the front window of the Cut ’n Curl signifying that Bertie Straub had a late customer, all the businesses on Main Street were closed. And since it was such a cold night, no one was out on the sidewalk, walking.
“I hope Carrie remembered to turn on the alarm,” Delores said, turning in the alley and driving past the back of her building.
“Do you want to stop and check?” Hannah asked.
“No, that’s okay. She’s usually pretty good about that.”
Delores pulled into the small parking lot in the back of The Cookie Jar and took the spot right next to Hannah’s truck. “I could just go home if you’re busy, or something.”
“I’m not busy. And I’m not something, either.” Hannah tried for a laugh, but she didn’t get it. “Come in, Mother. You need some chocolate to perk you up.”
Five minutes later, mother and daughter were sitting at the back table in The Cookie Jar, sipping coffee and dunking Chocolate Almond Toast.
“Wonderful,” Delores said, looking much relieved. “You’re right, Hannah. Chocolate does improve one’s mood. I’m sure that’s why men have given women chocolates over the ages. They had chocolate in Regency England, you know.”
“They did?”
“Yes. They primarily used it in beverages. A young woman would have chocolate for breakfast.”
“Was it like our hot chocolate?”
“It was similar, but much less sweet. Marge Beeseman gave a report on it last year.” Delores stopped and raised the corner of a paper napkin to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m just so depressed. I keep thinking of Winthrop’s favorite saying.”
“What was that?” Hannah asked, not reminding her mother that Winthrop was really Bobby Joe Peters, the con man, and that his favorite saying, if he had one, would be, Never give a sucker an even break.
“He used to say, Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
