by Curry, Edna
“But you aren’t considering moving back to live here?”
“Oh, no. Henry loved the shop and made a good living at it, but I really don’t think I’d want to do that. I like my job in Minneapolis and I’m sure Uncle Henry would understand that the shop has to go.”
“But the town needs the businesses. There are enough empty buildings on main street as it is.”
“I’m sorry, Ben.” He couldn’t seriously expect her to come back here to live, could he? There were too many bad memories here, of her parents, her marriage, and now of a stepbrother who despised her, and Henry’s horrible murder. She loved the little town, but it was all just too much.
Mark was studying her quietly. Now he said, “Perhaps what Ben means is that Henry’s business could just be sold as it stands, and go on as before with a new owner. That way Landers’s main street wouldn’t suffer either.”
“Yes, of course, I could do that, if I can find anyone to buy it,” she agreed doubtfully. Would anyone want it? “Jake’s offer just sounded like such an easy solution.”
“Jake is also interested in eliminating his competition in the towns around him. His shop is only ten miles away, you know.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. You’re both right, of course. I’ll list it with the business realtors first.”
“Speaking of lists,” Ben said, pulling a folded sheet of computer paper from his pocket, “let’s go over this one that you gave me from Henry’s computer once more. I’ve been working on it, but there are still some names on it to check out. I’d like your comments, anything you might be able to tell me about Henry’s connection to each name, anything at all that might help.”
“Yes,” Mark agreed. “I feel the answer to everything is right there, staring at us, if we could only see it.”
Lacey picked up the paper and reread it, although she was sure she remembered every name on it well, including her own.
“You know most of these people as well as I do, Ben,” she said, frowning. “The one that says ‘unsold’ must have been the one hanging on the wall of the shop, that is missing now. My own and my mother’s names are here; those prints were gifts from Henry.”
“Kate’s name is listed twice. Did you remember to ask her about that?”
“Yes, she said one was the one I got from her--the one that was stolen from my apartment in Minneapolis. The other one she says is packed with some stuff in Jerry and Elaine’s attic. She promised to dig it out for you.”
“Good,” Ben grunted. “I’ll stop by and talk to her later, then.”
“Ask her about when she really came to Minneapolis, too,” Mark said, and explained to Ben about Mrs. Ronning seeing her in Minneapolis on Friday.
“I’m sure it was nothing,” Lacey said, her heart hammering with guilt for having said anything and anxiety for her mother. “Mom couldn’t have had anything to do with Uncle Henry’s death. Perhaps Mrs. Ronning was only mixed up in remembering the days.”
“Aunt Martha doesn’t mix up things like that. And I know that they only go into the city on Fridays, Lacey,” Mark said gently.
“I’ll look into it. We only want the truth, Lacey,” Ben added kindly.
“I know Mom couldn’t have killed anyone,” Lacey repeated.
“I’m sure you’re right. Back to our list, then,” Ben said. “The next three names are private citizens, just buying for themselves. I’ve talked to them. Highman and Johnson, the next two, are dealers, aren’t they?”
“Yes. And so is Jake Garner, of course.”
“Um-hm. Seems to be a lot of relations on that list.”
“Ben,” Lacey said with a wry laugh. “Half of the people in this little town are related to each other in one way or another.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right about that.”
“Have you found anyone who has a computer like Henry’s?”
“No, apparently there aren’t too many of these older systems still around. Most of the people I’ve talked to use newer operating systems.”
Lacey nodded. “I told Henry after he bought it that it was a white elephant, but he said it suited him, and was easy to use. Besides, he bought it for a song.”
Ben frowned at her. “But you know how to use it, don’t you, Lacey?”
“Yes, of course. I often helped Henry.”
Ben’s brows dipped again. “So far I haven’t found anyone else who can. Where did you say you two were Friday night?”
“The downtown Minneapolis Public Library. The girl at the desk will remember us. She knows us both. And then we went out to eat.” Mark grimly wrote down the names and addresses of the people for Ben to contact to verify their story.
Lacey frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you be checking out yourself as well, Sheriff?”
He turned wary eyes on her. “And what do you mean by that?”
“You were part of his card group, too, weren’t you? So you might have known what Henry was onto as well as anyone, right? I mean, if he’d found some valuable piece, he might have hinted at it while playing cards, right?”
“Don’t get sassy, girl. Henry and I were close buddies. I’d never hurt him. Don’t think just ’cause you work for that big-shot PI firm in Minneapolis, that you can solve my cases for me.”
Lacey raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t answer. She knew she should trust the sheriff, but couldn’t erase that little sliver of doubt. Was she becoming paranoid? Or just over-reacting to his questioning her own motives?
After the sheriff left, Mark and Lacey talked on over a third cup of coffee.
“You don’t think he really suspects me?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t know. Hard to tell what Ben’s thinking.”
“I wish we could do something rather than just wait,” Lacey sighed. “I feel so frustrated and helpless. Uncle Henry’s killer is probably laughing at our lack of progress in catching him.”
“Well, I was about to suggest something.”
“What?” Lacey said.
“Helping Ben check out that list. It didn’t sound like he’s had time to make much progress on it.”
“Do you think he’ll let us?”
“He can’t refuse if we don’t ask, can he?” Mark grinned.
“Right. Let’s go.”
Chapter 10
“Ben!” A burly man in greasy brown work pants greeted the sheriff as Ben left the restaurant and hurried through the rain toward his car.
“Morning, Dave.” Ben smiled in return, then unlocked his squad car and slid into it.
“Could I see you a minute?” Dave stopped beside his car, looking hesitantly at the sheriff.
“Sure thing, climb in out of the rain.” Ben closed the car door, then turned sharp eyes on the mechanic as he climbed in beside him. “What’s up?”
Dave hunched his shoulders wearily, then growled, “Lacey Summers had me tow in her car.”
“Yeah, she and Mark told me about their accident last night. I wrote up the accident report. Something wrong?”
Dave nodded, his eyes dark. “Sure is, Ben. That was no accident. Somebody made sure it would happen as soon as those brakes were really needed. Line cut almost through.”
“Damn! Then this is not over yet.” He rubbed his bony jaw, then the side of his nose, lost in thought.
Dave shifted uncomfortably. He trusted Ben to get to the bottom of this—but would he do it in time to protect Lacey? Dave had known Lacey since she was a scrawny freckled tomboy two years behind him in grade school. She had always been a little spitfire, taking no sass from anyone, boy or girl, no matter how much bigger they were than she was. He remembered how she would raise her chin and stare at her opponent, those big hazel eyes flashing.
Ben said nothing. Who dared he trust? First there had been Henry’s murder, then the burglary at Henry’s cabin. Then he’d found out about another burglary at Lacey’s apartment. Now this accident that Dave was saying wasn’t an accident. It looked like he had an attempted murder disguised
as a car accident.
What did someone want? Only a cheap lithograph print of a wolf? Unbelievable. There had to be more to it than that. Someone was hiding something from him, or maybe just throwing up a smokescreen. What could he do? Where would the killer strike next? Responsibility for the safety of the people of his county always weighed heavily on Ben’s shoulders, but especially so now when it involved his friends.
“Have you worked on Lacey’s Chevy lately, Dave?”
“No. She’s been bringing it to me for whatever she wants done on weekends. Said she hasn’t found a mechanic in the cities she can trust yet. But she hasn’t brought it to me for anything since, oh, must have been February or so.”
“So this damage could have been done anytime since then?”
Dave shook his head vehemently. “No way, Ben. She couldn’t have used it much since that line was cut. I’d say it was done since she came out from the cities, otherwise it would have given way on that same curve on the way out here from town.”
“I see. So we’re probably looking for somebody local.”
Their eyes met in understanding and dismay. “Yes.”
“Damn.”
“One more thing, Ben,” Dave said, his voice heavy with doubt.
“Yes?” Ben’s dark eyes, alert again, swung back to meet the mechanic’s.
“Might not mean anything.”
“Let me decide that. Spit it out.”
“Mark used Lacey’s car yesterday afternoon. I met him driving it alone when I came back from the cities yesterday.”
“Mark Lantro? But surely you don’t think he would...”
Dave looked away, shrugging. “I don’t really know him at all, Ben. Just telling you what I saw. Right now, I don’t know who to trust.” His broad face held a stubborn, wary look.
“Neither do I.” Ben drew a deep breath. He was quite sure Mark and Lacey were planning to spend the day together. Was she in danger? What if Mark were the killer? Would he dare use the opportunity for another ‘accident’ so soon? He shuddered, then forced himself to relax. He had trusted his instinct in this job so far; he had to trust it now.
After all, hadn’t Henry trusted Mark enough to ask for his help? And Lacey obviously liked him. He’d seen her eyes light up when Mark walked into a room. Mark just couldn’t be fooling all of them.
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then let’s just keep this under our hats for now, eh?”
“But shouldn’t we tell Lacey? He might try again.”
“Let me worry about that.”
Dave frowned, thought for a minute, then nodded. “All right, Ben,” he said, climbing out of the car.
Ben sat there, watching Dave stride off, deep in thought. He hadn’t mentioned another problem. He was quite sure that the killer also had a copy of Henry’s list. It was logical to assume that he had printed himself a copy of the contents of that CD before deleting the information on it. After all, he had probably killed Henry for just that information.
Ben shuddered at his gruesome mental picture of someone calmly sitting in the same room with Henry’s bloody body and typing away at his computer.
Several of the Lone Wolf prints on that list had been stolen in nearby towns in the last week. All from private homes and nothing else had been taken.
Someone wants one of those pictures awfully bad. But why? Give him enough rope and he’ll hang himself. But do I have enough time to wait for that to happen?
On the other hand, if whoever fixed those brakes thought no one knew, he might tip his hand.
The radio crackled into the silence, urging him to action. A car accident with injuries required his immediate attention. He had other matters to attend to. But, first chance he got, he’d question Mark and get some answers.
It was several hours before the Sheriff could continue his murder investigation.
He went first to Jerry and Elaine’s house to talk to Kate, but found he was too late. Jerry was there alone, in the kitchen, heating himself a bowl of soup and a hot dog in the microwave.
“Elaine and the baby went to take Kate to the airport,” Jerry said. “Want some lunch, Sheriff?”
“Thanks, I guess I will,” Ben said, pulling a chair up to the dinette table and curling his long legs around its rungs as he sat down. “Been too busy to stop to eat.”
“Did you want to talk to Kate about anything special?” Jerry asked, running his square, large hand through his bright red hair.
“Just a few questions, details to clear up. Say, maybe you can help instead.”
“Sure, fire away.” Jerry set the bowl of soup in front of Ben and turned back to put another napkin-wrapped hotdog in the microwave to heat.
“First off, did Kate say anything before she left about finding her copy of The Lone Wolf painting for me? She told Lacey it was in her stuff in your attic, and that she would dig it out for me.”
“No.” Jerry frowned. “I’ll ask Elaine when she gets back. But she didn’t mention it to me. ‘Course the baby was yelling. Things get a bit hectic around here, you know.”
“Humph. Did you call Kate in Florida on Friday?”
Jerry’s head snapped around. “Of course. She came, didn’t she?”
“I mean, did you actually talk to her there, yourself?”
“Well, no, she was out. I left a message on her answering machine and she called me back a couple hours later.” He handed the hot dog to the sheriff and sat down.
“So she could have been calling from somewhere other than Florida?”
“How do I know? She had to be there to get the message didn’t she?” He took a big bite of hot dog and dipped a spoon into his soup.
“Not if she has the kind of answering machine or voice mail that can be called and told to play back messages over the phone from anywhere.”
“They can do that? Well, what’ll they think of next?”
Ben watched the expression of surprise flit across Jerry’s face, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not it was genuine.
“And the plane, Jerry? Did you see her get off the flight from Florida?”
“Well, no, she said her plane got in early. She was sitting in the baggage lounge with her luggage, waiting for me.”
“So she could have merely met you there then, as far as you know?”
“I suppose. Say, what is this?” Jerry stared at him. “You think she came sooner or what?”
“Mrs. Ronning claims to have talked to her in the mall on Friday.” Ben watched Jerry carefully as he sipped his hot soup, and finished off the hot dog.
“The hell she does.”
Jerry was definitely nervous. He was hiding something all right. Ben sipped his hot coffee and threw out his bombshell. “Where were you on Friday night, Jerry?”
Jerry’s face relaxed, and he grinned slowly at the sheriff. “Why, you remember, Sheriff. You called me to tow old Mr. Thompson’s car after he ran into a tree out on Highway 95. I worked on it in my garage for hours with him watching me and cussing me out something fierce. You’d a thought I was the one that caused the wreck instead of him the way he carried on. You can ask him how long it took. He was counting the minutes, figuring out how much it was going to cost him.”
Damn! How did I forget that? Back to square one. That lets Jerry out as Kate’s accomplice, if indeed she is involved.
***
Inside Mark’s car, the temperature rose quickly. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out.
The first name on Lacey’s list took them to a small white farmhouse. A gray-haired lady wearing a red heart-shaped apron answered the door. She was not in the least happy to hear what they wanted.
“What’s with that stupid blue picture?” she demanded harshly. “Like I told policemen two different times already, I don’t know why someone broke into my house and stole it from me. I didn’t even like it. My husband bought it ‘cause his folks had one like it and it reminded him of hom
e. Go away.”
With that, she slammed the door.
Mark raised an eyebrow, looked at Lacey and burst out laughing at the sight of her open mouth. “I don’t think she’s going to tell us anything more,” he said, taking Lacey’s arm and heading her back towards his car.
“But Mark, she said someone stole it. Maybe we could knock again, and just find out when. It might be important.”
“She also said she’d talked to the police. We can find out from the sheriff, can’t we? He obviously knows already and didn’t mention it to us.”
No one was home at the next address. They stopped for lunch, then went on to the next town on Henry’s list.
There, an older lady in a run down apartment was thrilled to hear that they were interested in that picture.
She brought it out to show them. She named a price, reached eagerly for the cash Mark handed her, and tucked it carefully down into her ample bosom.
“I didn’t even get an offer for it at my rummage sale,” she told them with a big smile and a wave good-bye.
“Well, that was easy,” Mark said, helping Lacey back into his car and carefully handing her the picture.
He walked around and got in beside her. Together they examined that copy of The Lone Wolf. It was an average sized copy, about fourteen by twenty inches, with a plain brown wooden frame. Blue glass covered the print itself.
“What do you think, Lacey? You know more about antiques than I do.”
She shrugged. “It looks just like a dozen others I’ve seen over the years. This print was done in New York, some that are slightly different were done in Chicago. You paid her at least twice the going rate, too.”
Mark shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t want to take the chance of being turned down. Besides, she looked like she could use the money.”
He locked the picture in the trunk and started the car, then flipped on the air conditioner.
Lacey wiped her brow. “Man, that cool air feels good. I can’t believe it’s this hot the first week of May.”
“Well, you know what they always say about Minnesota’s weather,” Mark said. “If you don’t like it, wait twenty minutes and it’ll change,” they quoted in unison, then laughed.
