Double Dutch Death

by Karen Musser Nortman

  “I always want to take one of every kind of cookie at these things but I suppose that’s frowned on,” Lil said.

  Max wiped crumbs from her mouth. “That was an interesting chat. Do you think the good doctor is that forgiving of both Helen and Peter?”

  “He sounded very sincere,” Bess said.

  Lil held up a finger. “Didn’t you tell us that he is a good amateur actor? In your community theater or something?”

  “Yes, he is. But I just don’t see him getting angry enough to murder his parents.”

  Detective Wilkins ambled into the side parlor and went to the serving table to pour himself a cup of coffee.

  Max lowered her voice and leaned over to the others. “There’s the neighborhood pest.”

  In the doorway, James Meijer looked around the room, saw them, and nodded. But then he turned and left.

  “Whew,” Dean said. “I don’t want to deal with him here.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to avoid the detective,” Lil said.

  “Whatever the reason, good riddance.”

  Wilkins came in and took a chair on one side of Lil. He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Your memory card. Thanks. I have some large prints of the photos in my car that I would like you all to look at. See if you notice anything. Have you thought of anything else?”

  He glanced around the room at the growing crowd and looked at Dean. “Listen, how about if we go back to your place to talk about this. Do you have time? Were you going any where else?”

  “Just for supper later. We have time,” Dean said.

  “I’ll just follow you then.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They reconvened around the table in Dean and Bess’ kitchen fifteen minutes later. Wilkins laid a file folder on the table and opened it. He handed around several 8 x 10 photos, each numbered in the upper right hand corner.

  “These are blowups of the pictures from Ms. Garrett’s memory card.”

  Each of them examined the pictures closely. Wilkins got out his notebook and laid it on the table.

  “First, I don’t think I asked you what time you got to the mill Saturday morning.”

  Dean said, “We talked about that yesterday. I think we got to the museum a little after eight. I checked in with Wanita while Max and Lil bought their tour tickets and looked around the gift shop. By the time we got into the mill, it must have been close to eight-thirty.”

  “Okay.” Wilkins flipped through a couple of pages in the notebook. “As you may know, Ben Barnes opened the first floor about eight for an expected grain delivery from Stan Gunder. Stan went to get coffee while Ben did the unloading. He then got an anonymous call about someone side swiping his car and left for a few minutes. He found nothing, so it was obviously a ploy to get him away from the mill. We assume that was when the killer got the body into a bag and on the hook. When Ben got back, he unloaded the grain, Stan returned and drove off, and Ben locked the doors. That would have been about the time you arrived and were in the museum.” He peered at them from under his eyebrows. “As you got to the museum, did you come by the mill or look over that way at all?”

  Dean leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He stared at the ceiling a moment. “We parked by the library and walked up from there so we didn’t pass the mill. The race was just ending. Max and Lil, do you remember looking toward the mill?”

  “I did,” Max said, “but I was looking up at the blades and the top. I don’t remember noticing anything down low.”

  “Same here,” Lil said. “It’s the top that draws your eye.”

  “I understand. It was a long shot. What about the photos? Do you see anything there?”

  Max shook her head. “Not really. The biggest question to me is why the killer went to all of that trouble to display the body that way? Why not just hide it in the woods or something? It seems like if you could figure out what the message was, you would have your killer.”

  They all were silent for a few moments.

  “I can’t think of any message,” Bess said. “Stay away from the mill? Don’t run in road races?”

  “That’s really not your problem,” Wilkins said, “but I appreciate your input.” Dean gave Wilkins a big wink, and Wilkins added, “Seriously.”

  Lil took a drink of her iced tea. “You know, we’re outsiders here so we don’t have a horse in the race, so to speak. But we also have noticed some things that may not have occurred to people who live here. Harry Eldridge, for example seems overly interested in Peter DeVries’ hybrid tulips. Dr. Bakke said Harry has left several voicemails pestering him about the patents on those tulips. And Dean and I saw him sneaking around Peter’s gardens yesterday.”

  “Have you arrested anyone for the damage to those gardens?” Max asked.

  “Not yet. What do you mean, sneaking around?”

  Dean said, “We were on our way to the bakery, and I drove by to show Lil Peter’s house. Not your typical Little Sneek architecture, you know. Anyway, Harry was up against the house near one of the garden beds that had crime tape around it—like he was trying not to be seen.”

  Wilkins seemed irritated. "Why didn't you call me?"

  Dean shrugged. "I know I should have. I told Lil I was going to and then forgot. I asked him what he was doing and he said he wanted to see if any of the bulbs needed replanting. When I reminded him that nothing could be done until the crime scene tape is removed, he made himself scarce pretty quickly.”

  Wilkins made a note in his book. “I’d better talk to Harry again.”

  Max thought he did not look happy about interviewing his former teacher’s son. Or maybe he thought, as she did, that Dean should have called Wilkins.

  “Did you know that Erik just found out a couple of days ago that Peter DeVries was his biological father?” Lil said.

  Wilkins jerked his head up. This was obviously new information to him. “What?”

  Bess jumped in. “Anna Bakke and I are good friends. She told me when I took a cake over there yesterday. Helen Bakke apparently had an affair with Peter before she married Adrian. Erik and Hans did their DNA and just found out—same mother, different fathers. Helen admitted the affair when they confronted her.”

  “When was that? Did he say? Never mind, I need to talk to him myself. Nothing about this was mentioned when I talked to Erik and Hans Saturday night.”

  “Sure. But apparently this all came out on Thursday. Erik talked to Peter about it and he said Peter felt terrible and said he was changing his will,” Dean said.

  Wilkins sat back in his chair. “Hmmm, it’ll be interesting to find out if that change actually occurred.”

  “Erik said he wasn’t interested in that—said he didn’t need the money,” Lil added.

  “Of course he would say that. And maybe that’s true. It won’t be that difficult to find out,” Wilkins said.

  Max squirmed in her chair and rearranged her leg for a more comfortable position. “I know someone said that Peter never married or had children—well, as far as we know—but did he have any other family? What would have happened to his estate before he acknowledged Erik??”

  “I have some information on that, but after what you just told me, I need to do more research,” Wilkins said. He stuck his notebook in his pocket and stood. “Thank you for your time. How much longer will you be visiting?” he asked Max and Lil.

  Max grimaced and pointed at her ankle. “Until I can drive again.” She glared at Lil, who was about to say something. “Don’t even think it.” She turned back to Wilkins. “A few more days, unless Dean and Bess throw us out before then.”

  Dean opened his eyes wide in mock panic. “Bess, you promised!”

  Bess laughed. “Dean, if you don’t start minding your manners, I’m going to send you with them when they go.”

  Wilkins looked around the group, trying to decide if they were serious.

  Bess got up to walk him to the door. “Don’t fret, Detective. This goes on all the time.
Yes, they will be around for a few days—just give us a call if you need anything else.”

  After they heard the door close, Dean folded his arms and looked at the rest. “I have to say—you gals are good at this. Obviously several connections he didn’t know or hadn’t thought of. We helped him quite a bit” He pursed his lips and nodded.

  “Before you get too over-confident,” Max said, “we didn’t tell him much that he wouldn’t have found out eventually. I’m sure he would have done more in-depth interviews with the Bakkes after the services are over and found out all about Erik’s relationship to Peter.”

  “I’d sure like to know if Peter actually changed his will. And who benefits if he didn’t,” Lil said.

  Bess got a look in her eye and pulled in her bottom lip.

  “Bess,” Dean cautioned her.

  “What? I just thought maybe Max and Lil might want to go to lunch at the Station tomorrow.”

  “What’s the Station?” Lil asked.

  “Just a small restaurant in the old depot downtown. Good salads and sandwiches and….”

  “…popular with the courthouse crowd,” Dean finished for her.

  Max leaned her chin on her hand. “And?”

  “And one of Bess’ good friends, Lois Bender, usually lunches there.”

  “And?”

  “And Lois is the receptionist for Gloria Van Wert, who just happens to be Peter DeVries’ lawyer.”

  “Ahhhh. I see.”

  Bess shrugged. “You never know what tidbits you can pick up if you’re in the right place at the right time. And speaking of lunch, we need to think about supper. You probably think I never cook and that’s almost true. So what are you in the mood for tonight?”

  “We haven’t really treated them to the festival food. Since today is the last day, maybe we should do that,” Dean said.

  “I would love that!” Lil said. “I’m not terribly hungry but I’ve seen people eating things that I can’t identify and look delicious!”

  “Let’s do that then,” Bess said. “We can all pick what we want from the different vendors.”

  “That sounds great,” Max said. She looked down at large brown eyes staring up at her. “Would someone want to take Rosie out before we go?”

  The dog leapt up and dashed in circles. Dean laughed. “How about if we hook her up to the wheelchair and she can take you for a run?” He grabbed the leash off a hook by the door. “Come on girl.”

  After the flurry of Dean and Rosie’s departure, Max turned to Bess. “So you are thinking we can find out from your friend if Peter changed his will? That’s privileged information.”

  Bess scoffed and waved her hand. “Of course not. That would cost her job and she wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

  “Then what?” Lil asked.

  “Since Erik confronted Peter on Thursday and Peter was dead on Saturday, any changes would have to have been on Friday. She might tell me if she saw Peter at all on Friday…you know, just passing by.”

  Lil grinned. “You’re sneakier than Max.”

  “That’s a compliment,” Max said.

  The downtown venue was crowded as visitors grabbed their last chance to pick up handmade gifts or watch the dancers or sample the special foods. Dean pointed out a large open tent sheltering long tables. “We’ll get our food and meet in the tent there. That sound okay?”

  “Sounds fine,” Lil said. “What do you recommend?”

  “Depends on how hungry you are. If you just want something light, try some poffertjes, or ‘small hats.’ They’re pancakes served with hot butter and powdered sugar. Or that vendor in the red truck has great Rookwurst and sausage burgers if you want something more filling.”

  “Let’s just all go together, Dean,” Bess said, “so we can push Max and they can ask questions.”

  They inhaled the wonderful smells as they traipsed from vendor to vendor. When they felt they had enough sustenance to stave off starvation, Dean pushed the wheelchair toward the tent while Max held many of the purchases in her lap.

  “This isn’t fair,” she complained. “I didn’t think I was hungry, but smelling all of this is driving me crazy!”

  They found seats at the end of one of the long tables. Dean started to push the chair up to the very end when Max stopped him. “I’m going to sit on the bench. I need to get more mobile.”

  “Boy, you are really worried about your sister driving your car, aren’t you?” Dean laughed.

  “No—well, yes, that too—but I just need to move more. I feel like I’m a prisoner in this chair. Hold the chair steady, please.”

  “Bossy, bossy,” Dean said under his breath, while Lil wagged her head vigorously. Max hoisted herself up to a standing position with most of her weight on her uninjured ankle. Then by leaning on the corner of the table, she was able to get to the bench with a couple of hops.

  “There!” She sat down hard and looked up, smiling. “Now I know why babies are so pleased with themselves after their first steps. Let me at that Rookwurst!” She started rummaging through the various sacks.

  Bess helped hand out their purchases and for a few moments, the only sounds were grunts of satisfaction. The fading sun lit up the west wall of the tent and the group was treated to a shadow theater of the people walking past.

  “A mother with two crabby children,” Bess said, pointing at the large feminine shape struggling with two smaller ones.

  The shadow of a man trudged several feet ahead of a short woman. Max pointed. “Those two have been married a long time.”

  “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Lil smirked at the shadow of a man ambling by who appeared to have a prominent hump on his back.

  “Hmmm,” Dean said. “A little high for a backpack and the wrong shape.” They watched the figure round the corner and continue to the open east side of the tent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When the man walked into the tent carrying a sack of food, his ever-present sweater tied across his shoulders (although today it was gray), the group looked at each other with understanding and some dread.

  “James,” Bess whispered. “Hunchback, indeed.”

  He spotted them and headed their way. He set his sack on the table and climbed over the bench. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  Max wondered what he would say if they answered ‘yes, we do mind.’

  He held up one hand and continued. “I promise, no sales pitches.”

  Dean grinned. “That’s okay then. Have a seat.”

  “I think I saw you at Helen’s visitation?” Bess said.

  “Yes. Grim business.” He shook his head as he pulled a bologna on a stick out of the sack. He removed the wrappings and carefully applied ketchup. “I suppose you’ve heard about Erik’s relationship to Peter?”

  “I didn’t realize it was common knowledge,” Dean said.

  Bess had to hide a smirk and Max winked at her.

  “Well, I’m not sure it is. But it involves clients of mine, although I can’t say who. It doesn’t surprise me a whole lot, I guess. Peter was pretty wild when he first came to town and Helen was quite naive.” James took a big bite of the bologna.

  “I didn’t know you had been here that long, James,” Bess said.

  “Oh, I haven’t. But these things come up, as I say, in dealings with clients.”

  “You mean like gossip that clients share?”

  “Oh, heavens, no. Not gossip. I just mean that I’ve become privy to some information in the course of my work. Let’s hear about you ladies.” He looked pointedly at Max and Lil. “You travel around together a lot?”

  “A couple of times a year,” Max said. It’s really none of your business.

  “Mostly in the Midwest?”

  “Not necessarily,” Lil said. “We often visit family around the country.”

  “I see. Dean, how was the crowd Saturday in the village?”

  “Pretty typical for Tulip Fest. Maybe down a little.”

  James nodded. “Yes, yes. To be
expected, I guess. Do the police have any leads?”

  “We’re not privy to that,” Dean said.

  James swallowed another bite of his bologna. “Sure. I just thought since you had been questioned…”

  Dean frowned and gave his neighbor a piercing look, which James didn’t catch because he was busy rolling up his sandwich wrappings and wiping his mouth. He looked up at them, smiling, and got up. “Nice seeing you. Have a good evening.” And he was gone.

  “I almost get whiplash, trying to keep up with his subject changes,” Max said.

  “But how did he know we had been questioned? I mean he could surmise that, but still…” Dean watched James leave the tent.

  “Or he was walking by and saw Wilkin’s car,” Bess said.

  Dean shrugged. “I suppose. But it’s an unmarked car.”

  “I think he’s just odd,” Lil said. “You know, it was the night the detective came—Saturday—that I took Rosie for her walk and ran into him. He warned me about staying safe, offered to walk me home, and then turned off before we got there. Maybe he could have seen the car at that point and recognized it?”

  Max laughed. “On Sunday, when he chased his dog into your back yard, he offered to take me out to supper and then immediately did a disappearing act.”

  “Well, that’s understandable—,” Lil started to say until Max slugged her arm.

  Bess rolled up her food wrappings. “Well, speaking of home, I’m ready to head there. Anyone else?”

  They all agreed it had been a long day and followed Bess out.

  On the way to the car, Lil checked to see that no one was nearby and then asked, “What do you think about James as the murderer?”

  Bess almost stopped. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know him well enough to figure out a motive. But he certainly seems to have had opportunity. He showed up at the village not long after Dean discovered Peter—Max, remember when you were sitting outside the quilt display?—and then James told me that he saw us at the Rotterdam Room that night.”