Double Dutch Death

by Karen Musser Nortman

  Lil split the chicken breasts and, following the recipe that Bess had laid on the counter, dipped them in a beaten egg and breading and placed them in a baking dish.

  “She finally is getting some work out of you, huh?” Dean said as he walked out in the kitchen. “What did she do—go take a nap?”

  Lil looked up at the clock. “No, she went out quite a while ago to pick some spinach for the salad. Maybe she stopped to talk to a neighbor.”

  “Maybe. I’ll go out and see what’s keeping her.” Rosie had followed Dean from the living room and pranced over to the door at the word ‘out.’

  “You stay here, Rosie. I’ll take you out later.” She explained to Dean, “If she’s not on the leash, she’ll be long gone after some squirrel.”

  Dean laughed. “I have more than a few squirrels that I’d gladly be rid of.” He opened the door and stepped out, closing just the screen door behind him.

  It was quiet for a few moments, and then Lil heard Dean calling her name in a low urgent voice. She rinsed her hands and dried them on a towel as she walked to the door. “Did you find—?” Lil stopped and stared toward the back fence where Dean pointed. James Meijer stood under a large old maple and held Bess around the waist with one hand at her throat.

  “Don’t come out here. He has a knife,” Dean said quietly. “Call the police. Call Wilkins.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lil stood to the side of the window above the sink and watched Dean walk toward James with his hands up. She dialed 911.

  “Can we talk about this, James?” Dean called.

  “No. Bess here is going to be my ticket out. You brought this on yourselves—you and your nosy nellies.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s going with me until I don’t need her. I can’t stay here.”

  Max hobbled in to the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  Lil started to answer but the dispatcher had picked up. “What’s your emergency?”

  Lil ducked her head back to the phone, holding a finger up telling Max to wait and then pointed at the window. Max frowned, looked out the window, and dropped her jaw.

  “Yes, I’m calling from the Dean Gregory residence. I’m afraid I don’t have the address handy but Bess Gregory is being held hostage at knife point in the back yard. Please tell Detective Wilkins and get us some help! Hurry!”

  “Can you stay on the line until help arrives?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will.” She thanked the dispatcher in a shaky voice.

  Max turned from the window. “What the hell—?”

  Lil held the phone away from her mouth. “Bess went out to pick some spinach from the garden. I got busy with the chicken and didn’t realize how long she’s been gone until Dean came out. Oh, Max, poor Bess!” Lil threw one arm around her sister, almost knocking her over. Max hugged her back and then broke away to support herself on her walker.

  “What can we do?” She stared out the window at Dean negotiating at a distance with James. James’ short hair stood on end and he had no sweater arranged around his shoulders.

  “Nothing. That’s what’s horrible. Max, I should have told them not to use the sirens! What if they startle him…”

  “Wilkins will know.”

  Lil hoped so. No sounds came through the evening air. Lil slowly cranked the casement above the sink open. She could hear Dean’s voice, low and soothing, but couldn’t make out words. James shook his head like a recalcitrant two-year-old, and his insistent “No! No!” came through the window clearly.

  Max turned her walker and headed for the front of the house. “I’ll watch for the police.”

  The thump of the walker alternated with shuffling feet until Lil heard the front door open. She was torn between watching the tableau in the back yard and trying to hear Max’s exchange with, she assumed, the police. The thump-shuffle-thump signaled Max’s return to the kitchen.

  “The police?”

  “Yes. I explained what was happening and they’re going to move in around to the back on the other side of the fence. That should work.”

  Lil returned to the phone. “Ma’am? The police are here. Thank you.” She disconnected.

  They returned to watching the window. No one appeared to have moved for some time. They could still hear Dean’s placatory voice, pleading with the agitated man. The eight-foot wood fence effectively shielded any rescue squad that was hopefully circling the perimeter.

  To occupy her hands, Lil covered the chicken and put it in the refrigerator. She rinsed the dishcloth and wiped off the counter, all the while keeping one eye out the window. Max leaned on her walker and stared out the patio door. The refrigerator hummed. The wall clock ticked. Rosie’s toenails clicked as she came to join them.

  Max said, “Oh…dear.”

  “What?” Lil hurried to stand beside her at the patio door. “What is it?”

  Max nodded toward the left side of the yard. Charles Wilkins came around the corner of the house and James Meijer started shouting, pulling Bess back closer to him.

  While James was focusing on Wilkins, three cops came over the back fence and took an assault stance. Wilkins motioned to Dean to get back by the house.

  “Mr. Meijer! You need to let her go and surrender yourself to the police. Otherwise this cannot end well,” Wilkins called out.

  James appeared to tighten his grip and Bess screamed. Dean tried to go to her but Detective Wilkins held him back. One of the cops behind James fired into the air, hitting a branch in the old maple. A yowl so grating that it seemed to have physical force erupted from the tree, as Bill the Cat leaped from the branch, landing on James Meijer’s shoulders. James lost his grip on Bess and clawed at his neck, trying to get the cat off.

  Bess ran for Dean and threw herself in his arms. A young cop came up behind Meijer and grabbed his wrists to cuff him while another cop pulled the cat free. Max and Lil headed outside, with Max moving faster than she had since her accident. They fell into a group hug and Lil tried to wipe the tears streaming down Bess’ face.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Is this your cat?” One of the young policemen tried to control the mongrel and hand him over to Bess at the same time.

  “Ohhh,” Bess said, and held out her arms. “He is now. Come here, Bill.”

  Bill, however, was suspicious about this change in his circumstances and continued to express that by thrashing and screeching.

  Detective Wilkins joined the group. “Logan!” he called out to the third cop who had come over the fence. “Get that animal carrier out of the cruiser.” The cop loped off and Wilkins turned back to the group. “That cat’s kind of the hero of the day.”

  “He sure is, and I think we’re going to make him part of our family,” Dean said.

  “Well, you were right. James Meier was up to no good. We checked with Peter DeVries’ attorney this afternoon and the bulk of his estate was originally to go to the college but he planned to direct at least part of it to Erik Bakke and also more to the Heritage Foundation. I suspect we’ll find something similar with Helen Bakke’s estate. I’ll stop back in the morning and let you know how things ended up.”

  The officer came back with the animal carrier, but Bess declined to take it. Bill the Cat seemed to have scaled back his objections and decided to give this relationship a try. They moved toward the patio and Dean got Bess seated in a cushioned chair. She cradled the cat on her lap. Lil went to get a small dish of milk for the cat and Max fetched a box of tissues for Bess.

  Bess wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She looked at Lil. “So is supper done?”

  Lil laughed. “I’m just waiting for your salad.”

  Bess threw her head back. “Dang! That’s the worst part. When James surprised me, I spilled everything that I had picked on the ground. The rabbits are probably having a feast.”

  “That wasn’t the worst part,” Dean said sternly.

  “I know.” She held up a shaky hand. “I’m falling apart but I feel positively giddy. Should we o
rder Chinese?”

  “Certainly not,” Lil said. “I have that chicken ready to go in the oven. If I can get some work out of Dean, we can have it on the table in half an hour.”

  “I get no respect,” Dean said.

  Max shook her head. “That’s been over used. I’ll open the wine.”

  The next morning, feeling a little hung over, the women gathered in the kitchen to find Dean making crepes. He looked at his watch and fixed them with a disapproving gaze.

  “A little lazy this morning, ladies. Detective Charles Wilkins will be here in about an hour, and I expect to see you all looking pretty snappy.”

  “Apparently, he doesn’t think a scrape with death is adequate reason for exhaustion,” Max said to Bess and Lil.

  ”Plus losing my spinach,” Bess said.

  Lil elbowed her. “Better than losing your cookies.”

  “That may happen too.” Bess opened the refrigerator. “What do you want on your crepes?”

  “Butter and cinnamon sugar.”

  “Peach jam.”

  “I think we will try and take off tomorrow,” Max said as she spread butter on her crepe.

  Bess put her fork down. “I feel terrible about how this visit turned out. Nothing like I planned.”

  Lil laughed. “When we were seven and eight, we would have thought this was really exciting.”

  “You mean instead of seventy and eighty?” Dean said as he added another crepe to the stack.

  “No one was talking to you,” Bess said.

  Max smiled. “No one expected you to control circumstances for us. It’s been great seeing you and the events were fun.” She grimaced. “Even the dance lessons.”

  “Well, I’m convinced that these murders wouldn’t have been solved as quickly without the Mystery Sisters, whether Charles Wilkins admits it or not,” Bess said. “Speaking of the good detective, I guess we’d better be cleaning this mess up and get ourselves dressed.”

  An hour or so later, Wilkins arrived. “I don’t mean this personally, but I hope this is my last visit for a while, at least in a professional sense. I can report that James Meijer is safely behind bars and has been charged with two counts of murder as well as vandalism.”

  “Vandalism?” Bess asked.

  Wilkins nodded. “He’s the one who tore up Peter’s tulip beds, trying to throw suspicion on Harry or some other tulip grower.”

  Max nodded. “He’s the one that told me about that—that was about 9:00. Had you even been called yet?”

  “No,” Wilkins smiled. “Not until about noon.”

  “So Harry Eldridge is only guilty of poor taste and lying about his interest in tulips,” Dean said.

  “Seems so. James said Peter called him Friday and said he planned to change his will to leave a substantial portion to Erik and a bigger chunk to the Heritage Foundation. That would cut his bequest to the college in half. James has serious financial problems and Peter’s decision was going to make things worse. Besides, the community support of the tulip fest angered him.”

  Max nodded. “He told me Saturday morning that he was at the village to check on things for the Foundation but when I mentioned that to Bess yesterday, she said he has nothing to do with the Foundation.”

  “True,” Wilkins said. “So, Saturday morning, James knew that Peter was entered in the ’Tiptoe through the Tulips’ race and that he would be near the end since he was walking it. James stationed himself near the middle of the route, where it was heavily wooded, and followed along until Peter was in a short stretch by himself.”

  “But was he close to the mill? Otherwise, how did he move the body?” Lil asked.

  “He left it there and walked to get his own vehicle. When he drove by the mill, he saw the delivery truck at the mill and decided to use Peter’s body to put a stain on the Tulip Fest and discourage support for it. Then maybe people would direct more donations to the college—through him, of course. It was a stretch, but it did make the national news. Apparently, that’s where he was headed in the photo you took.” Wilkins nodded at Lil.

  “So he called Ben Barnes to lure him away, put Peter’s body in a bag and left,” Dean said.

  “And Helen?” Bess asked.

  “After Erik found out about his parentage, Helen and Peter decided they would both change their wills to give Erik more control over their bequests. Erik has plenty of money of his own, but he has always had a strong interest in several medical charities. They thought perhaps they could ease some of his anger over their lifelong deception by letting him direct some of their estates to his medical charities, if he wished. James found out that Helen and Erik were meeting for supper Friday night to discuss this, so he took care of Helen while she was walking across the campus.”

  “He really thought these murders would save him financially?” Max asked. “Seems pretty far-fetched.”

  Wilkins sighed and leaned back in this chair. “That’s something that will have to wait for the psychological exam, I’m afraid. I noticed during the interrogation that Mr. Meijer has a hard time focusing sometimes or following through on things, as well as anger issues.”

  Max and Lil both nodded. “He offered to walk me home one night ‘for my safety’ and then turned off before we got here,” Lil said.

  “And he sort of asked me to supper and then changed his mind,” Max added.

  “Which we understand,” Lil said.

  “Shut up.”

  Charles Wilkins got up. “This might be a good time for me to leave.” He smiled at the group. “Seriously, thank you for your help, and I hope you ladies decide to give the Tulip Fest another try in the future.”

  “We will have to see about that,” Max said. “At least, hopefully, it will have a future.”

  <<<<>>>>

  Thank You

  For taking your time to share Max and Lil’s adventures. Just as the sound of a tree falling in the forest depends on hearers, a book only matters if it has readers. Please consider sharing your thoughts with other readers in a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Or email me at karen.musser.nortman@gmail.com.

  My website at http://www.karenmussernortman.com provides updates on my books, my blog, and photos of our for-real camping trips. Sign up on my website for my email list and get a free download of Bats and Bones.

  Little Sneek, Iowa is based loosely on the town of Pella and other Dutch towns in the United States that observe Tulip Time. The bequest system used in the story is entirely fiction.

  To my Beta readers, Ginge, Elaine, and Marcia, thank you for all of the great catches and suggestions. And to all of my readers, especially my advance reader team, words are not enough.

  The inspiration for the Mystery Sisters was memories of my Great Aunt Mary, who taught phys ed in Missouri until she was in her seventies. She owned a Studebaker and during the summer would drive up to southern Minnesota, pick up my grandmother, and off they’d go to California or Connecticut or some other exotic place (in my teenaged mind). My cousin says they argued constantly, but they made trip after trip. I stole the names of the sisters (but not the personalities) from three of my youngest aunts--the ones who were between my and my parents generation. They were the ‘cool’ aunts—young and hip. And they were a great example to us all.

  Other Books by the Author

  The Mystery Sisters

  Reunion and Revenge: Maxine Berra and Lillian Garrett, sisters in their seventies, travel together to visit friends and relatives in Max's 1950 red Studebaker with her Irish Setter, Rosie. Does that mean they are amicable companions? Not at all. But when, during a family reunion, the murder of a family friend throws suspicion on their shiftless younger brother, they put their heads together to try to save him.

  Foliage and Fatality: Seventy-something sisters, Max and Lil, visit western Pennsylvania, partly to see Lil's son Terry and his family, and partly to enjoy to colorful fall foliage. The sisters volunteer to help staff a fund-raiser haunted house. The house has amazing special effects and a haunted g
arden. It is hugely popular and should bring in a lot of money for the new school auditorium. What could go wrong?

  The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries:

  Bats and Bones: An IndieBRAG Medallion Honoree. Frannie and Larry Shoemaker are retirees who enjoy weekend camping with their friends in state parks in this new cozy mystery series. They anticipate the usual hiking, campfires, good food, and interesting side trips among the bluffs of beautiful Bat Cave State Park for the long Fourth of July weekend—until a dead body turns up. Confined in the campground and surrounded by strangers, Frannie is drawn into the investigation. Frannie’s persistence and curiosity helps authorities sort through the possible suspects and motives, but almost ends her new sleuth career—and her life—for good. As a bonus, each chapter ends with a camping tip or recipe—some useful, some not so much.

  The Blue Coyote: (An IndieBRAG Medallion honoree and a 2013 Chanticleer CLUE finalist) Frannie and Larry Shoemaker love taking their grandchildren, Sabet and Joe, camping with them. But at Bluffs State Park, Frannie finds herself worrying more than usual about their safety, and when another young girl disappears from the campground in broad daylight, her fears increase. Accusations against Larry and her add to the cloud over their heads.

  Peete and Repeat: (An IndieBRAG Medallion honoree, 2013 Chanticleer CLUE finalist, and 2014 Chanticleer Mystery and Mayhem finalist) A biking and camping trip to southeastern Minnesota turns into double trouble for Frannie Shoemaker and her friends as she deals with a canoeing mishap and a couple of bodies. Strange happenings in the campground, the nearby nature learning center, and an old power plant complicate the suspect pool and Frannie tries to stay out of it—really—but what can she do?

  The Lady of the Lake: (An IndieBRAG Medallion honoree, 2014 Chanticleer CLUE finalist) A trip down memory lane is fine if you don’t stumble on a body. Frannie Shoemaker and her friends camp at Old Dam Trail State Park near one of Donna Nowak’s childhood homes and take in the county fair. But the present intrudes when a body surfaces. Donna becomes the focus of the investigation and Frannie wonders if the police shouldn’t be looking closer at the victim’s many enemies.