Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen Mysteries)

by Joanne Fluke

  “And was her reaction as bad as you thought it would be?”

  “It was worse. She got angry and accused me of treating her like a…” Ken stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Do you really need to know what she said?”

  “No. What happened next?”

  Ken reached for his glass of water and took a sip. “She started screaming at me and calling me names. They were really ugly names, if you get my drift.”

  “I do. Go on.”

  “By this time I’d taken just about all I could take. I knew there was nothing I could say to calm Rhonda down, so…I left.”

  Hannah pulled out her notebook. “What time was that?”

  “Around seven-thirty.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I drove home and called Kathy at her mother’s house.”

  Hannah groaned. “Did you tell Kathy what had happened with Rhonda?”

  “Of course not. I realize I was irresponsible and stupid when I started this whole thing with Rhonda, but I’ve never harbored a death wish.”

  Hannah had to grin at that. “What did you tell Kathy?”

  “Just that I’d had a rough day and I needed to hear her voice. We talked for quite a while about the reunion and the cousins she hadn’t seen since she was little. When I finally hung up, I felt a lot better. I also felt hungry, because I skipped lunch and all I’d eaten were the sliced olives on top of my dinner. There wasn’t much to eat in the house, so I decided to go out and get a hamburger or something. I went back out to my car and that’s when I realized that I’d left Rhonda at the Voelker place with no way back to town.”

  “I was wondering when you’d get to that. So you drove back out?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t just leave her there. It was too far to walk back to town.”

  “What time did you get back there?” Hannah held her pen at the ready. The time frame would be crucial.

  “At nine-thirty or so. The lights were on so I figured that Rhonda was still there. I sat there in the car for a minute or two. I really didn’t want to go in and start fighting with her again. But I’d driven out there to give her a ride and I figured I might as well do it.”

  Hannah flipped back to the page where she’d listed Rhonda’s time of death. If Doc Knight was right, and he usually was, Rhonda had been dead and cooling off in the basement when Ken had knocked on the door. “Were there any other cars in the driveway when you drove up?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have stopped if there’d been another car. Whoever it was could have given Rhonda a ride.”

  “What happened when you went in?”

  “I didn’t go in, not right away. I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. And when she didn’t, I knocked again. Then I opened the door and went inside.”

  “What’s the first thing you did when you stepped inside?”

  “I called out for Rhonda. It’s not a big place and I knew she could hear me. When she still didn’t answer, I got nervous. I thought maybe she’d had an accident, or something like that. I went from room to room, looking for her, but she wasn’t anywhere in the house. I even went out in the backyard to search for her.”

  “What made you think that Rhonda might have been out there?”

  “The takeout boxes were gone and the back door was standing open. I figured she’d gone out with the garbage and…” Ken stopped talking and swallowed hard. “Do you think Rhonda’s killer went out that way?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Ken shivered. “I guess I could have scared him away. I never thought about that. If he was still in the basement when I drove up, he could have run out the back way.”

  Hannah nodded as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She’d discussed the grave with Mike. Both of them thought that the killer had intended to fully bury Rhonda, but someone or something had frightened him away before he could finish his grisly task. Ken Purvis could be that someone. If Rhonda’s killer had been in the basement when Ken’s car drove up, he would have had plenty of time to flee out the back door.

  “Maybe the killer was still there when I went to the backyard,” Ken speculated, his voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t hear anything, but it was dark and he could have been hiding anywhere.”

  Hannah figured she’d better reassure Ken. His face had turned a sickly shade of gray and drops of nervous perspiration were beading on his forehead. “My guess is that he was long gone. Let’s get back to what happened. After you checked the backyard, you…?”

  “I came back in and shut the back door. I figured she could come back in after I left.”

  “Think back to how the kitchen looked. Was the basement door open?”

  Ken frowned in an attempt to remember. “It must have been closed. If it had been open, I would have gone down there.”

  “So you never considered that Rhonda might be in the basement?”

  “It never even occurred to me,” Ken said, sighing deeply. “I really wish I’d thought to check. If I’d found her, I could have gone for help, or taken her to the hospital myself.”

  “Forget it, Ken. Doc Knight said Rhonda died instantly. Even if you’d found her, you couldn’t have saved her life.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Hannah.” Ken reached for his glass and took another sip of water. “That makes me feel a little better. It’s still awful, but at least I know there was nothing I could have done to help her.”

  “What did you think when you searched the house and you couldn’t find Rhonda?” Hannah asked.

  “I figured one of her friends had seen the lights, dropped by to see her, and given her a lift home. Or maybe she’d walked out to the road and flagged someone down. Those were the only explanations I could think of.”

  “So you didn’t think there was anything wrong when Rhonda wasn’t there at the house?”

  “Not really. I did think it was a little odd that she’d left on the lights, but Rhonda tended to storm off when she was mad and I thought she’d just forgotten to turn them off. It was wasting electricity since there was no one there, and—” Ken’s voice trailed off and he took another sip of water “—I turned them off and left. I didn’t know about Rhonda then.”

  “I understand. Where did you go after you left the Voelker place?”

  “I drove to the Quick Stop to get some gas, and then I went to the Corner Tavern for a burger and fries.”

  Hannah closed her steno pad, shoved it back into her purse, and got to her feet. “That’s all I need for now. Thanks for being honest with me, Ken.”

  “Wait a second.” A look of panic crossed Ken’s face. “You don’t think that I killed Rhonda, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t. And there’s a way you can prove it right now if you want me to clear you completely.”

  “I do! What do you need? Telephone records so you can prove I went home to call Kathy? My gas receipt from the Quick Stop?”

  “Those wouldn’t do it, but your bursitis will.”

  “It will? How?”

  “Just call Doc Knight and have him verify that your bursitis was acting up on Friday.”

  “I can do that. I’ll call him right now.” Ken reached for the phone and punched in a series of numbers.

  While Ken explained what he needed to Doc Knight, Hannah glanced around his inner sanctum. There was an array of Jordan High graduation class photos that ran the length of three walls, one for every year since the school had been built. She found hers and grimaced slightly as she saw her younger face. No doubt the photographer had told them to say “cheese” because she was smiling so widely, she had chipmunk cheeks.

  “Here, Hannah,” Ken said, handing her the phone. “I told Doc Knight to give you any information you needed.”

  Hannah took the phone and leaned across the desk, so the cord wouldn’t stretch out too much. “Hi, Doc.”

  “Hello, Hannah. Ken says you need to know about his bursitis. When I saw him last Friday, it was in an acute stage and his r
ange of motion was severely limited.”

  “How limited?”

  “He couldn’t raise his right arm any higher than his waist and his left arm was even worse. You’re working on Rhonda’s murder?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You should have asked me before you put Ken through the wringer. Even if he’d been mad as blazes, there’s no way he could have stabbed Rhonda. She was standing with her back turned to her assailant at the time and they’re approximately the same height.”

  “Would it work if she was standing in the hole?”

  “No. The angle would be wrong. Take him off your list, Hannah. Ken’s not your man.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks, Doc. You’ve been a big help.”

  Hannah hung up and turned to smile at Ken. “Okay. Doc Knight says you couldn’t have done it. You’re in the clear.”

  “Then nobody has to hear about my…uh…relationship with Rhonda?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hannah said as she headed for the door. “I was just here to check some old school records that you were kind enough to find for me.”

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  B usiness was brisk when Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar. After she had stashed her vanilla and chocolate ice cream in the freezer, she managed a brief private word with Lisa. She said nothing to tarnish the image of Lisa’s former principal and she certainly didn’t mention his liaison with Rhonda. She just said that she’d needed to check some old school records and that Ken had been very helpful.

  It didn’t take long to mix up a batch of Pecan Chews and in less than an hour they were baked and cooling on the racks. Hannah was about to soften the ice cream to make the sandwiches when Freddy Sawyer knocked on the back door.

  “Come in, Freddy,” Hannah invited. “Have a cookie or two.”

  “Thanks, Hannah. I love your cookies. They’re almost as good as the ones my mom used to bake.”

  Hannah took that as a compliment. As she remembered, Mrs. Sawyer had made very good cookies. She poured a glass of milk for Freddy, set two cookies on a napkin for him, and waited until he had finished munching.

  “I wish I knew how to bake,” Freddy said, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Miss Cox promised to teach me, but I’m too busy helping Jed right now. We’re making real good money. Did you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “Did you see my new watch?” Freddy pointed down at the watch on his wrist. “Jed bought it for me this morning and it cost almost ten dollars. It was in the window and the girl climbed in to get it for me. She said it was a sports watch. I don’t play sports, but that’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “That’s fine. Lots of people who don’t play sports wear sports watches.”

  “Why is that?”

  Hannah shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because they’re more rugged.”

  “I like that answer.” Freddy smiled widely. “Jed’s always after me to be more rugged. He thinks I should stand up for myself if somebody teases me, and he’s even teaching me to fight.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure she liked that idea. She was sure that Freddy could defend himself in a pinch quite well enough already. But it was a chance to ask a few questions about Freddy’s cousin. “Does Jed know how to fight?”

  “You betcha! Jed told me he once licked a guy twice his size. Put him right in the hospital. I don’t understand how being licked could put you in the hospital, though. Mrs. Cox’s dogs lick me all the time and it doesn’t hurt me any.”

  “That’s true, but what I think Jed means is…” Hannah paused, trying to think of a way to explain slang usage to Freddy.

  “Oh, gosh! I forgot the time!” Freddy glanced down at his new watch and sighed. “I’d like to stay and talk to you more, but I have to meet Jed at the café in fifteen minutes.”

  Hannah remembered what Lisa had told her about Janice Cox teaching Freddy to tell time. It seemed he had the concept down pat. “That watch is going to come in really handy for you, Freddy.”

  “I know. I was careful to pick out the one with hands instead of just numbers. That’s the one I learned how to do.”

  Freddy stood up and headed for the door, but Hannah stopped him. “Was there something you needed, Freddy? Or did you just come in to say hello?”

  “Oh, boy! I guess Jed is right and I really am a dunce!” Freddy thunked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “It just went clean out of my head, Hannah. I wanted you to save something for me. Will you?”

  “Sure,” Hannah said, guessing that it was a rock or some little object Freddy had come across in his handyman work.

  “I’ve got it right here. Be real careful of it. It’s precious.” Freddy pulled a battered shoebox out of his backpack and handed it to Hannah.

  Hannah accepted the box gingerly. It was tied up with twine and it didn’t look too clean. “It’s not alive, is it?”

  “No.” Freddy gave a little laugh. “And it’s not a sandwich, either. It won’t spoil.”

  “Good. Can you tell me what it is?”

  “It’s something Jed lost. I found it in the trash right before the garbage truck came. I’m going to shine it all up and give it to him for a present. Boy, will he be surprised!”

  “That’s nice,” Hannah said, wondering if Jed would appreciate getting something he’d thrown away as a present. “Where do you want me to keep it?”

  Freddy glanced around and then he pointed to the walk-in cooler. “How about in there? Nobody will find it there.”

  “Okay. Come with me.” Hannah carried the box to the cooler and opened the door. She stepped in and Freddy followed her inside. “I’ll put it right here, on the shelf behind the milk cartons.”

  Freddy nodded, watching while Hannah removed the cartons and slipped the shoebox in the back. “That’s real good, Hannah. Nobody’ll see it there.”

  “Just tell me when you want it back and I’ll get it for you,” Hannah said, leading Freddy to the door.

  “Okay. Thanks, Hannah. Good friends are like sunshine. A day is gloomy without them.” Hannah turned to give Freddy a quizzical look and he grinned. “Mom used to say that. She had a lot of friends and she said they were my friends, too.”

  Hannah had just finished mixing up the next day’s cookies and stashing them in the cooler when Lisa came into the kitchen waving a ten-dollar bill.

  “Look at this, Hannah. There’s something funny about it.”

  “Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?” Hannah asked, repeating the words of Mrs. Carlson, her third-grade teacher.

  “Funny peculiar. You must have had Mrs. Carlson, too.” Lisa gave a little laugh. “Just look at it, Hannah. I’ve never seen an old one that’s this new before.”

  Hannah walked over to take a look and she didn’t point out the inconsistency in Lisa’s statement. The issue date was nineteen seventy-four, but the old-style bill was crisp and clean, and it looked as if it had just been minted. “That is strange.”

  “Do you think it’s counterfeit?”

  “It could be. We’d better ask at the bank.” Hannah glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was past three and the bank would be closed, but Doug Greerson, the president of First National Mercantile, stayed in his office until five. “I’ll run over and check with Doug. Do you have any idea who gave it to you?”

  Lisa looked a little worried. “I think it was your sister.”

  “Andrea?”

  “No, Michelle. She stopped by while you were having lunch with Norman and bought a half-dozen Short Stack Cookies to take to her friend’s house. The only reason I remember was that we were running short on fives and I had to give her all one-dollar bills in change.”

  Hannah frowned as she looked down at the bill. “If Michelle had it, it could have come from the Twin Cities area. I’m going out to the cottage tonight to have dinner with the family. If Doug says it’s counterfeit, I’ll ask Michelle if
she remembers where she got it.”

  Doug Greerson looked surprised to see Hannah standing outside the front door of the bank and holding up a ten-dollar bill. He motioned for her to wait a moment, then walked back to a keypad that was partially hidden from her view. After he’d entered some numbers, he came back to the door and unlocked it, a lengthy procedure that involved several complicated locks.

  “Thanks, Doug.” Hannah stepped in, waving the bill. “This came into the shop this afternoon. Lisa and I both think it looks funny peculiar.”

  Doug chuckled. “Mrs. Carlson, third grade. I’ll never forget her for that. Go on back to my office and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there as soon as I reset the alarm. There’s some coffee in the pot. It’s a combination of Columbian, Guatemalan, Brazilian, and Sumatran.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It is. It’s darkly roasted, heavy-bodied, and it has a smooth finish.”

  “I’ll have to taste that,” Hannah said with a grin as she walked back to Doug’s office. He’d discovered gourmet coffees at Christmas when his wife, Diana, had given him a sample pack of beans and an electric coffee grinder.

  Doug’s coffeepot was spotless, a sharp contrast to the one in Jon Walker’s office. Hannah had just poured herself a cup and taken one of the chairs in front of the desk when Doug came in.

  “So what do you think of the coffee?” he asked.

  Hannah took a sip and smiled. “It’s really good.”

  “Just wait until next week. I ordered a shipment of Blue Mountain from Zabar’s in New York. It’s supposed to be the finest coffee in the world.”

  “It’d have to go some to beat this,” Hannah declared and took another sip. “Take a look at this bill, Doug.”

  Doug took the bill Hannah handed him, switched on his halogen desk lamp, and took what looked like a jeweler’s loupe from his desk drawer. He examined the bill for several moments and then he shook his head. “It’s not counterfeit.”

  “But look at the date. It says nineteen seventy-four. Don’t you think it’s odd that it looks so new?”