Mert raised a trembling hand to her forehead. “Dab-nabbit. Maybe she didn’t fertilize it. Maybe it’s just a by-product. That’s what you’re thinking, aren’t you, Kiki?”
I nodded. “We need to call the police.”
Chapter 30
Detweiler and Hadcho arrived within minutes of each other. Mert had decided we should stay under the maple tree until we’d talked to the detectives. Since it was the middle of the day and the sun was slamming down on us in those sauna-suits, we were happy to comply.
“Go ahead, Kiki,” said Mert, after she perched on the lid of her cooler so the detectives could sit on the lawn chairs. “Tell ‘em what you’re thinking.”
I turned to the detectives and said, “Let me fill Mert, Laurel and Johnny in. You two have been working a series of cold cases involving local women who have disappeared, right? The cases span quite a few years. None of their bodies have been found. There’s never been any evidence of struggle. Nor evidence of robbery as a motive. All the missing women had cats, right?
“Whoa,” Mert said. “What’s that about?”
“Hang on,” I told her.
“That’s right,” said Hadcho. “They all owned cats. Big whoop. So do a lot of folks.”
“What if our killer used cats as bait? If he said there was a stray and he needed help capturing it? Most women would go along with that. Especially if the woman was an animal lover,” I said.
“You’re thinking that’s how our killer lured the women into his car? Maybe set loose one of Marla Lever’s many cats, then asked for help capturing it?” Detweiler’s green eyes narrowed and he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “But her hoarding cats was a recent development, right?”
“Right, but I’ve seen her calendars going ten years back. She’s owned cats for decades and there’s more. Laurel, what are the specs on the NorthStar brush chipper we found in the garage?” I turned to the woman with the iPhone.
“It can take anything up to a six inch diameter,” she said, staring at the screen.
“I’m thinking the killer chloroformed the women. Killed them. Then fed them through the woodchipper. We found a big commercial grade brush chipper in Marla’s garage. The missing women were all thin, right? He could fit their limbs into the chipper. I bet the killer ordered the woodchipper,” I stopped and took a deep breath, “and that explains what Mert and I found in the refrigerator freezer. And what Hadcho and Mert found sitting on top of the corpse. Those weren’t bags of hamburger. They were baggies of people parts. In the process of grinding them up, the excess fell on the lawn, which is why it’s so overgrown and green especially in patches.”
I paused and we all did a slow survey of the grounds.
Johnny laughed. “She’s right! I noticed it was a well-fed lawn, but I didn’t notice how it’s extra green only in big half-circles. If you were running flesh through the woodchipper, you’d naturally get spillage but only in a rough half-circle.”
“Yep. The killer bagged up the, um, stuff and gave it to Marla to feed to her cats. Of course, Marla had no idea,” I said. “She thought it was venison. He probably field-dressed the bodies, or even dismembered them and froze them, maybe even stored them in a freezer at his own home, then ran them through the chipper. Except for the last one. He didn’t have time to do his usual routine because Marla scheduled the crop here.”
Detweiler and Hadcho exchanged looks. Detweiler spoke softly. “That’s interesting, but highly speculative. What makes you think that the missing women were fed to the cats?”
“On Marla’s calendar, she wrote ‘Devon—cat food’ in several places. I’m betting that when she ran low on baggies of frozen meat, she’d tell Devon Timmons. He’s unemployed, so he doesn’t have a set schedule—and her call was the signal for him to bring her more baggies full of ground meat or to go hunting. He’d lure a woman into his car. Do whatever with her, and finally run her through the woodchipper.”
“Interesting. But we need facts,” Hadcho said. “Ways to follow up.”
I nodded. “All the cat litter pans are missing. I have a hunch that Marla talked to Devon about our visit. He panicked. He offered to come over and clean her house. He probably brought cheeses and other foods high in tyramine.”
“What? Now you are talking Greek,” Hadcho said.
“Tyramine. It occurs naturally in fermented foods,” explained Laurel. “But it can be deadly if ingested along with an MAO inhibitor. They call it the ‘cheese factor.’”
I continued, “If Marla was on an MAO inhibitor that could have caused her stroke. While he was here, he picked up the cat litter pans and dishes and as many of his baggies as he could. But then he got to thinking, and it occurred to him that if he left Mrs. Newcomber behind, Marla would get blamed. And since it’s been so hot, he hadn’t had the chance to put Mrs. Newcomber through the woodchipper yet. If you can find the ground up meat or the cat litter pans, I bet you could check those for human DNA. Oh, and there should be fingerprints and blood on the woodchipper.”
“I’ll call the forensic specialists. I guess you all should take a long break,” said Detweiler.
That’s exactly what we did.
That break lasted much, much longer than any of us anticipated.
Chapter 31
“I baked a batch of pumpkin cookies,” said Rebekkah, opening a Tupperware container. “They’re for my going away party this evening, but you can sample them, Kiki. I know you insist on making sure they’re worthy of our customers.”
“You bet I do!” I bite into one of them and moaned with joy.
“You aren’t going away,” said Dodie to her daughter. “Not exactly.”
“That’s right, Rebekkah,” I said as I “sampled” my second cookie. I take my quality control job very seriously. “Since you will be taking classes at Wash U, you can still help us out here at the store. Is that what you mean, Dodie, mean about her not going away?”
“Exactly.” She bit into her third cookie. I mean, every quality control officer needs a good second in command.
Of course, I was kind enough to stop there. I didn’t need to add that we’d limit Rebekkah’s “helping at the store” to specific activities where the young woman couldn’t ruin any craft supplies. She typically trashed more paper and products than a springtime flooding of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers.
“Sort of. But I am giving up my job as sales manager. I’m also moving out of the house. I decided to get a roommate and live off campus. My parents and I needed a break from each other,” Rebekkah said.
“Your father and I love you, but you’re probably right.” Dodie’s smile was colored with sadness, but I agreed. It was time for Rebekkah to go back to school and to get out of Dodie and Horace’s collective hair. Or what they had left of it. She’d applied and been accepted to Washington University, with the goal of finishing her undergraduate degree and then attending the George Warren Brown School of Social Work as a graduate student.
“By the way,” Rebekkah said. “I called Rabbi Sarah yesterday. She told me there’s no prohibition against burying Jews with tattoos in Jewish cemetaries.”
Dodie muttered a prayer.
“Wow. You aren’t planning to your own burial, are you?” I asked Rebekkah. “I mean, you’re awfully young.”
“Not until I help you prep for your crop tonight. You do need help, don’t you?” Rebekkah asked.
“Nope. I’m going to show scrapbookers how to use Zentangle in their pages and albums. I’ve been working on the session for months, and I’m really excited about it. In fact, I’ve been doing a tangle daily—most days—and it’s helped me feel calmer. I was afraid I’d have nightmares about Devon Timmons and his woodchipper.”
“I’m glad that’s settled,” said Dodie, leaning back in her big desk chair. Styled with those cute gelled tufts, her hair made her look like a wise old owl. “His defense was insanity?”
“Yep. He’ll go to prison for life. The more that Detweiler and Hadcho uncover
ed, the worse it got. Seems Devon Timmons had been using those poor cats as bait for years. In fact, he’s the one who got Marla started hoarding them. Ali Timmons never knew her husband was working against her to encourage her mother to add to her brood of kitties.”
“Twelve women. All killed by one guy,” Rebekkah shook her head.
“Twelve and counting,” said Clancy, who’d walked up behind us. She arrived in time to help me set up for the evening crop. “Part of the deal to avoid the death penalty was that Devon Timmons would come clean on all the women he’d killed. I have a hunch that number will quickly exceed a dozen.”
“There’s Marla’s death, too,” I said. Shortly after Detweiler and Hadcho arrested Devon Timmons, Marla Lever suffered another massive stroke and died while in the hospital. I suspected that somehow Marla knew she could move on, so she did. While her son and daughter mourned her death, there was a sense of relief at the memorial services. The death of Marla’s youngest child, Tommy, had left a gaping hole in the woman’s psyche that the years had never healed. She tried to fill that pain by hoarding. As the priest said at her funeral, now Marla and the child she’d lost would be reunited.
“There’s also the vandalizing of your home,” Clancy said. “Not that it’s a big deal compared to his other misbehavior. Thank goodness all that’s over!”
The Lever house in Ladue had since been razed. The lot was quickly sold, and I suspected a large McMansion would take its place. Of course, the lawn had been totally trashed by the Crime Scene Investigation unit. New sod would cover the microscopic particles of Devon’s victims. But given that housing was at such a premium in Ladue, I doubted that it would hurt the selling price of the lot one bit.
“Hey, everyone, I want to show you my old white purse. Remember, Kiki, how I got ink all over it? How the pen leaked the day we showed up at Marla Lever’s house?” Clancy held up her purse for our inspection. Where there’d once been a plain white leather hobo bag, there was now a cool purse covered with black and white designs—a Zentangle dream!
“Another crime solved, another item-bound-for-the-trash re-purposed, and—” I reached into the cat carrier box and plucked out the newest member of my family “—another homeless pet rescued.”
Martin snuggled under my chin and purred loudly.
Dodie smiled. “A fitting conclusion to another adventure in scrapbooking!”
—The End—
If you enjoyed Ink, Red, Dead, then you’ll love the other Kiki Lowenstein mysteries:
Book #1—Paper, Scissors, Death
Every scrapbook tells a story. Memories of friends, family . . .and murder?
Mousy housewife Kiki Lowenstein has two great loves: scrapbooking and her young daughter, Anya. But her happy family album is ruined when her husband, George, is found naked and dead in a hotel room. As Kiki tracks down George's murderer, she discovers his sordid secret life.
Cruel taunts by George's former flame compel Kiki to spout an unwise threat. When the woman is murdered, Kiki's scissor-sharp words make her the prime suspect. She could be creating scrapbook keepsakes for the rest of her life-behind bars. Supported by her loyal friends, along with a little help (and a lot of stomach flutters) from the dashing Detective Detweiler, can Kiki cut the true killer out of the picture and design a new life for herself and Anya?
Includes expert scrapbooking tips and techniques, and a coupon for free Snapfish photos!
http://www.amazon.com/Paper-Scissors-Death-Lowenstein-Scrap-N-Craft/dp/0738712507/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1318015487&sr=8-1
Book #2—Cut, Crop & Die
All it took was one scone. When the hot-tempered (and widely hated) hobbyist Yvonne Gaynor eats a tainted pastry at Kiki's scrapbooking crop party, it triggers an allergy that leads to Yvonne's death. Even worse, the police suspect foul play when they realize that someone tampered with the treats and swiped the victim's allergy medication.
An expert at stealing design ideas, Yvonne had enough enemies to fill a memory album. Soon, the scrapbooking community pins her murder on Kiki's friends and our ace scrapper finds herself dealing with anti-Semitic threats at the shop, a quarrelsome pre-teen daughter at home, a meddlesome mother-in-law, and constant financial pressure. Despite help from the handsome yet annoyingly coy Detective Detweiler, Kiki has her work cut out for her in solving the crime.
Includes innovative scrapbooking tips and a coupon for 50 free digital prints!
http://www.amazon.com/Crop-Kiki-Lowenstein-Scrap-N-Craft-Mystery/dp/0738712515/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1318015487&sr=8-3
Book #3—Photo, Snap, Shot
Old money and tradition are the hallmarks of the St. Louis prep school that Kiki Lowenstein's daughter Anya attends. But the elite academy is stamped with scandal when Anya finds the dead body of teacher Sissy Gilchrist in its elegant theatre. Even worse, Anya might have seen the killer.
Pegged as a shameless flirt and a lousy teacher, Sissy would've made everyone's "least popular" scrapbook page. Especially for those who were seeing red over Sissy's mixed-race romance with a colleague. Fearing her daughter is in danger, Kiki sifts through the school community's many shocking secrets to pin down the murderer, while doing all she can to avoid starring in her own memorial album.
http://www.amazon.com/Photo-Snap-Lowenstein-Scrap-N-Craft-Mystery/dp/0738719765/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1318015487&sr=8-4
Book #4—Make, Take, Murder
Dumpster diving for her lost paycheck is definitely the low point of Kiki Lowenstein's day—that is, until she finds a severed leg thrown in with the trash. Who'd toss a body part in the garbage outside the scrapbook crafts store where Kiki works?
Accompanying the grisly "gift" is a creepy computerized voice message, a warning to the store's "rich and snotty" female shoppers. Kiki soon discovers that the leg belonged to Cindy Gambrowski, a customer with a tyrannical and violent husband—who's now harassing Kiki. Combing through Cindy's scrapbook projects for hidden clues, Kiki tries to find the killer. Was it a crime of marital malice, or did someone else beat Cindy's husband to the punch?
Includes holiday-themed projects and recipes!
http://www.amazon.com/Make-Murder-Lowenstein-Scrap-N-Craft-Mystery/dp/0738720666/ref=pd_sim_b4
Book #5—Ready, Scrap, Shoot
For Kiki Lowenstein, only one thing is (marginally) worse than her selfish, hyper-critical mother coming for an extended visit — dodging bullets. In the merry midst of the time honored May Day celebration at Kiki’s daughter’s private school, a sniper fires shots into the crowd, killing deep-pocketed alum Edwina Fitzgerald. Did someone want to punish the imperious, widely hated matriarch — or was Kiki the intended target all along?
Includes creative scrapbook design tips!
http://www.amazon.com/Ready-Scrap-Lowenstein-Scrap-N-Craft-Mystery/dp/0738727474/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1318015806&sr=8-1
**
~Rebekkah’s Recipe for Pumpkin Cookies~
Pumpkin Cookies:
Cream:
1 cup Crisco
1 cup sugar
Add:
1 egg
1 cup pumpkin (Rebekkah swears by Libby’s)
1 teaspoon vanilla
Beat well
Add:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon salt
Drop onto greased cookie sheet (Rebekkah uses a small melon baller so the cookies are uniform in size and shape) and bake for 15 minutes at 300 degrees on the top rack of the oven.
Boil:
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup whole milk
3 Tablespoons butter (Rebekkah uses Land O’ Lakes)
For 2 minutes
Cool and stir in:
1 ½ cups powdered sugar (Rebekkah uses C&H)
1 teaspoon vanilla
Spread on cookies.
Author’s Notes and Acknowledgements:
Many thanks to my sister Jane Ca
mpbell and our friend Paula Dear for reading early versions of this book. Thanks to D. for the fabulous cookie recipe. Also, multiple hugs to Linda Hengerer for her help “Kindle-izing” this manuscript. You can visit Linda at http://www.HengerWords.com. Gerry Malzone and his wonderful daughter Jenn Malzone helped with the cover design.
The Zentangle® art form and method was created by Rick Roberts and Maria Thomas, and is copyrighted. Zentangle® is a registered trademark of Zentangle, Inc. Learn more at http://www.zentangle.com.
**
~Free Gift!~
Enjoy this crafty mystery featuring Kiki Lowenstein and her friends!
A Crafty Kind of Murder
What happens when seven crafty sleuths try to take a hobby holiday? The tangled web of crime follows them! They might be amateurs when it comes to crime detection, but these women are professionals in the world of handicrafts and hobbies. Join scrapbooker Kiki Lowenstein, miniaturist Gerry Porter, needlearts expert Betsy Devonshire, pet-sitter and attorney Kendra Ballantyne, rubber stampers Rocky Winchester and April Buchert, and crochet enthusiast Molly Pink as they put their heads together to solve the worst sort of murder possible, the crafty kind.
By Joanna Campbell Slan, Margaret Grace, Monica Ferris, Linda O. Johnston, Terri Thayer, and Betty Hechtman
Copyright ©2010 by Joanna Campbell Slan, Camille Minichino, Monica Ferris, Linda O. Johnston, Terri Thayer and Betty Hechtman
Ink, Red, Dead (A Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery) Page 10
