Strawberry Shortcake Murder hsm-2

by Joanne Fluke

  “I don’t know yet. It all depends on where it came from.” Hannah reached back into the hidden compartment and pulled out another envelope. It was white, business-sized, and it had the insignia of the Seattle Police Department above the return address.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the reason Norman’s being extorted.” Hannah folded it and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans. “I’m going to return it to him.”

  “Aren’t you going to open it first?”

  “No.”

  “But don’t you want to find out what Norman did?”

  “Of course I do, but I’ll wait for him to tell me about it.” Hannah glanced at Andrea and noticed that her sister had a strange expression on her face. “What is it?”

  “You’d open that letter in a heartbeat if it had the dirt on anyone else. You must like Norman a lot more than you say you do.”

  Hannah let that one pass and reached into the compartment again. It was clear that Andrea suspected romance, and Hannah didn’t want to discuss her feelings for Norman. He was a friend, perhaps the best friend she had. That was enough for now.

  “What else is in there?” Andrea asked.

  “Photos and negatives. I think we found it, Andrea.”

  “The stash of ammunition for her dirty little schemes?”

  “That’s a mixed metaphor, but it doesn’t really matter. The important thing is, we got the goods on Lucy. Just look at these pictures she took!”

  “There’s Claire and Mayor Bascomb going into the Blue Moon Motel.” Andrea sounded slightly shocked as she glanced down at the first photo. “No wonder Claire gave her all those outfits!”

  “Lucy probably put the bite on the mayor, too. He’s married, and he wouldn’t want his wife to see that picture.” Hannah put down the photo and turned to another one. “Here’s one that Lucy took at the Lake Eden Inn.”

  “You’re right. That’s the front desk in the lobby. Who are those two men?”

  “One if Mr. Rutlege, the judge who had to be excused. And the other one is a contestant’s husband. I can’t remember his name, but he’s holding the gray envelope we found.”

  “The one with the money?”

  “It looks exactly the same.”

  “Did he bribe Mr. Rutlege so his wife would win the contest?”

  “He attempted to bribe him. Mr. Rutlege must have turned it down, since Lucy ended up with the money.”

  Andrea thought about it for a moment, then she said, “That makes some kind of sense. Lucy must have seen what happened and confronted the contestant’s husband. She probably threatened to make it public unless he gave her the envelope with the money.”

  “That sounds about right.” Hannah pointed to another photo. “Look at this one. Lucy took it through Danielle’s kitchen window.”

  Andrea winced as she stared at the photo. “That’s Boyd, and he’s hitting Danielle. She looked really scared. And Boyd looks so mean.”

  “He was mean.” Hannah’s voice was hard. “I can’t work up much sympathy for him, Andrea. I know he didn’t deserve to die the way he did, but I’m glad Danielle doesn’t have to suffer anymore.”

  “Amen to that. It’s a good thing you found this, Hannah. Now we know why Lucy called Boyd. She must have been trying to get hush money from him.”

  Hannah stared down at the photo for a long moment, her brow wrinkled in thought. “This picture’s got to have something to do with Boyd’s murder, but I’m not quite sure what.”

  “I don’t know either, unless…” Andrea’s voice trailed off, and her face turned pale. “Do you think that Lucy… I mean, if Boyd wouldn’t pay her and she got mad at him, she… she wouldn’t kill him, would she?”

  “Not a chance,” Hannah reassured her. “Lucy’s short and Boyd was tall.”

  “So?”

  “The blow that killed Boyd came from above. Lucy would have had to stand on a stepstool to hit him over the head with that much force.”

  “Okay. I can see that. But what if Boyd was kneeling and begging for mercy?”

  “From Lucy? Boyd outweighed her by a hundred pounds, and we already know he wasn’t squeamish about hitting women. If he’d thought that he was in danger, he would have grabbed Lucy, hammer and all, and thrown her up against the wall.”

  “True. But maybe Lucy tricked him into kneeling. If she dropped something, and it rolled under the car, Boyd could have been trying to get it back for her.”

  “That doesn’t play either,” Hannah informed her. “There were oil spots on the garage floor and Boyd was wearing light gray pants. If he’d been down on the floor, he would have had oil stains on the knees of his pants.”

  Andrea breathed a big sigh of relief. “I’m glad you told me that, Hannah. For a second there, I thought we might be searching the apartment of a murd…”

  “Shh!” Hannah grabbed her arm to hush her. “I hear something!”

  “Another woodpecker?”

  “Not this time.”

  Both sisters held their breath, listening intently. They heard the sound of faint footsteps and Hannah turned to her sister. “It’s Vera. She’s coming up the inside staircase.”

  “She must have heard us walking around up here.” Andrea looked panic-stricken. “We’re going to get caught, Hannah!”

  “No, we’re not. Go hide in the closet. I’ll be with you in a second.” Hannah gave Andrea a little shove. “Hurry!”

  Hannah gathered up the evidence they’d found, shoved it back in the hidden compartment, and replaced the drawer. Then she grabbed their coats, their caps, and the bag of cookies she’d brought and ran for the closet as fast as he could. If Vero Olsen caught them up here, she’d call Bill and Mike to report it. Andrea would get off with a slap on the wrist. Both Bill and Mike would believe that Hannah had been the instigator. But when Mike found out that Hannah had ignored his warning and was actively meddling in his case, he’d lock her up and melt down the key.

  Chapter Eleven

  “She doesn’t know we’re here,” Hannah whispered, pushing aside the long red skirt that was brushing up against her face.

  “How do you know that?”

  “If Vera thought we were burglars, she would have called the sheriff’s station from downstairs.”

  Andrea was silent for a moment, then whispered back, “You’re right. There’s now way a woman Mother’s age would confront a burglar herself.”

  Hannah grinned in the dim light that filtered in from the far end of Lucy’s closet where a small window had been installed. Vera Olsen claimed to be fifty, but Hannah had seen her picture in the old 1957 Jordan High yearbook she’d paged through at the school library. Unless Vera had taken a decade to complete her senior year, she was a lot closer to sixty than fifty. But if Vera chose to lie about her age, Hannah wasn’t about to bust her for it.

  Lucy’s closet door was made of knotty pine, and Hannah poked Andrea and motioned toward a handy knothole. She found another for herself, and both sisters peered out to see what Vera would do. The door next to Lucy’s bed opened and Vera stepped in with a smile on her face. She wouldn’t be smiling if she thought that she was about to confront a burglar, and Hannah knew they were safe, at least for the present.

  Vera crossed the floor and headed straight for Lucy’s computer, which was sitting on a table just opposite the closet. She flicked on the switch, fired up the monitor, and sat down in Lucy’s chair with her back toward them.

  Andrea nudged Hannah. She was wearing a puzzled expression, and Hannah answered with a shrug. Then Hannah pointed to her eye and Andrea nodded her response. Their dialogue was complete without words.

  What is she doing, Hannah?

  I don’t know. We’ll have to watch and see.

  Okay.

  Vera hummed a little tune as the computer went through its warm-up. Since the room was narrow and Lucy’s seventeen-inch monitor was sitting on top of the CPU, Hannah and Andrea could see the screen perfectly.

  Once the wa
rm-up was complete, Vera used Lucy’s mouse to click on the Internet provider icon. There was the sound of a dial tone and the number was dialed automatically with a series of musical beeps. There was a burst of static and another few beeps as Vera was connected, and then a computer-generated voice said, “Welcome Hot Stuff. You’ve got mail.”

  Andrea slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Hannah swallowed hard. The thought of Vera as “Hot Stuff” was enough to make both of them quake with silent laughter. Vera clicked on the mail icon and a message appeared on the screen. It was in large block letters and the two sisters could barely contain their mirth as they read it.

  HELLO HOT STUFF—YOU ASKED FOR A PICTURE. HERE IT IS. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK DOWNLOAD. HOW ABOUT ONE FROM YOU? I’LL BE CALLING YOU TONIGHT TO HEAR YOUR SWEET VOICE OVER THE PHONE. LOVE YOU BABY, SILVER WOLF.

  As they watched, Vera downloaded the picture and a photo of a man with silver hair appeared on the screen. He was smiling at the camera and waving from the deck of an expensive-looking sailboat. Vera turned on Lucy’s color printer and printed it out, snatching it from the tray with a smile. Then she hit the button to reply and typed in a message.

  I’LL SEND YOU MY PICTURE TOMORROW. I HAVE TO FIND JUST THE RIGHT ONE. I PROMISE I’LL BE WAITING BY THE PHONE FOR YOUR CALL. LOVE YOU TOO, HOT STUFF.

  Hannah didn’t risk glancing at Andrea for fear she’d lose it. Vera Olsen, a woman she hadn’t even known was computer literate, was carrying on an online romance.

  Once Vera had deleted her personal message and shut down Lucy’s system, she walked across the floor with a spring in her step and Silver Wolf’s picture in her hand. She opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind her with a click.

  Neither Hannah nor Andrea said a word as they listened to Vera’s receding footsteps. When they were certain that she’d gone back downstairs, Hannah nudged Andrea. They emerged from the closet, glanced at each other, and promptly burst into a volley of laughter.

  “Do you think Vera’s really going to send Silver Wolf her picture?” Andrea asked.

  “Why not? She looks good for her age.”

  “She’d look even better if she got her roots touched up.”

  “Maybe she will.” Hannah chuckled. Leave it to Andrea to notice something like that. “Come on. It’s only seven thirty-five, but why take chances? Let’s grab the evidence and get out of here.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Won’t Lucy notice that it’s missing?”

  “Of course she will, but she won’t know who took it. And she can’t very well complain that it’s been stolen.”

  Andrea started to grin. “I guess not. She’d have to explain how she got it in the first place. How about the money? Are you taking that, too?”

  “Absolutely. It doesn’t belong to Lucy. I’m going to return it to the contestant’s husband and give him a lecture about trying to bribe a judge.”

  Andrea found a stack of large manila envelopes next to Lucy’s computer and handed one to Hannah. “Put everything in here, and I’ll stuff it under my parka.”

  “Good idea.” Hannah pulled out the drawer, released the catch on the false back, and retrieved the evidence. She dropped it into the envelope and stuck her hand back into the compartment to make certain she hadn’t missed anything. “Here’s a roll of exposed film. I’d better take that, too. Norman can develop it for us.”

  Andrea pointed toward several other rolls of film that were scattered on Lucy’s desktop. “There’s more film here. Do you want to take it?”

  “No. If it were important, Lucy wouldn’t have left it out. The roll she hid in her secret compartment is different. It could be evidence that she didn’t have time to develop.”

  “Do you want me to check around to make sure we didn’t leave anything?” Andrea offered.

  “Yes. Check the kitchen and the bathroom, and I’ll look around in here.”

  Hannah had just concluded that they’d left no telltale traces when Lucy’s phone rang. Hannah glanced at her watch and frowned. It was only seven-forty, and Norman was supposed to keep Lucy in his dental chair until eight.

  “Is it Norman?” Andrea appeared in the doorway looking concerned.

  “I don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait for her answering machine to pick up.”

  The phone rang a second time, and then a third. Lucy’s machine kicked in before the fourth ring and they listened to her outgoing message. This is Lucy Richards, feature journalist. Leave a number and I’ll get back to you.

  Hannah rolled her eyes at the ceiling. The closest Lucy ever got to journalism was writing a description of a wedding dress.

  Lucy? Where are, Lucy? Hannah’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice on the speaker. It was Norman, and he sounded nervous. I came in at seven to do the impression for your caps, and you’re over thirty minutes late. I can’t hold any more time for you. You’ll have to call me to reschedule.

  The answering machine clicked off, and Hannah met Andrea’s startled gaze. “Come on, Andrea. It’s time to run for the hills.

  * * *

  Hannah’s heart was still thudding as they walked into the Rhodes Dental Clinic. They’d left Lucy’s apartment on the fly, and only luck had kept them from running into her.

  Norman slid back the panel just as soon as he heard the front door open, and he looked very relieved to see them. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go over to Lucy’s! She never showed up for her appointment, and she didn’t call to cancel.”

  “We did go.” Hannah was still a little miffed that Norman hadn’t called to warn them. “We were just leaving when you called. Why didn’t you let us know earlier?”

  “I tried to. At first, I thought she was just running late, but at ten after seven, I called Andrea’s cell phone.” Norman turned to Andrea. “You didn’t answer, and I called at least a dozen times.”

  Andrea sighed. “I left it in Hannah’s truck. I didn’t want it to ring while we were breaking in. I thought maybe Vera might hear it.”

  “All’s well that ends well,” Hannah reassured her. And then she reached into her back pocket and handed Norman the envelope from the Seattle Police Department. “I think this belongs to you?”

  Norman’s mouth dropped open as he stared down at the envelope. “You found it!”

  “That and a lot of other stuff.” Andrea reached inside her parka and pulled out the manila envelope. “Lucy had five victims that we know about, and there may be more.”

  “More?”

  “That’s right.” Hannah opened the envelope and drew out the canister of film. “We found everything in a secret compartment in her rolltop desk, and this roll of film was there, too. It’s got to be more evidence, or she wouldn’t have hidden it. Can you develop it for us right away?”

  Norman glanced down at his appointment book and shook his head. “I’d like to help, but Mrs. Haversham is coming in at eight-thirty. There’s no way I can run back home and develop it in less than forty-five minutes.”

  “I’ll take care of Jill Haversham for you,” Andrea offered. “I’ll just tell her that you had an emergency and ask her to reschedule. And then I’ll take her over to the café and treat her to breakfast for being so cooperative. She doesn’t get out that much, and she’ll love it.”

  Hannah turned to her sister in surprise. Andrea wasn’t usually this generous with her time. “Does this have anything to do with that rental duplex she owns over on Maple Street?”

  “Well… actually it does.” Andrea’s face turned slightly pink. “I’ve been meaning to talk to her about it anyway. I’ve got a buyer that’s interested, and she could make a nice profit.”

  Hannah grinned. Her sister was as tenacious as a pup with a bone when it came to selling real estate. Andrea had been trying to get Jill Haversham to sell her duplex for at least a year, and she wouldn’t quit until she got the listing.

  “If you want to take care of Mrs. Haversham, that’s fine with me,” Norman agreed. “I
don’t have another appointment until ten, and that’ll give us plenty of time. Come on, Hannah. Bring that film, and let’s go over to my darkroom to see what you’ve got.”

  * * *

  “Your mother acted really surprised to see me.” Hannah stepped into the large walk-in closet that Norman had turned into a darkroom. “And I’m not sure she approved when you told her that we were going upstairs to your room.”

  Norman laughed. “That was a mistake on my part. I should have said that we were going upstairs to develop a roll of film. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Mrs. Beeseman hadn’t been visiting. Mother would never gossip about you, but I’m not so sure about Mrs. Beeseman.”

  “I am. Mrs. Beeseman will tell everyone within a five-mile radius and then some.”

  Norman gazed at her curiously as Hannah handed him the roll of film. “You don’t seem too upset about that.”

  “I’m not. Anyone who knows me won’t believe it. And anyone who doesn’t know me doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s a good attitude.” Norman held the film canister up to the light. “It’s black-and-white. It’s a good thing I’ve got a complete setup. I started out in black-and-white because I liked the contrast. It was at least ten years before I added color. Almost everyone uses it now.”

  “Then it’s unusual that Lucy used black-and-white?”

  “Not really. She works for Rod, and he doesn’t print color very often. It’s just too expensive. Lucy probably loaded her camera with black-and-white so that she could develop it in Rod’s darkroom. He does his own black-and-white at the office, but he sends all his color work out.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. Lucy wouldn’t want to send any incriminating film out to be developed.”

  “Sit over there, Hannah.” Norman pointed to a stool in the corner. “I’ll have to go to total darkness until I have this film in the tank.”

  Hannah headed for the stool and sat down. She was interested because she’d never been in a darkroom before. “How can you see what you’re doing if it’s totally dark?”

  “I can’t. But I’ve done it so many times before, my fingers know the moves. A lot of photographers use a pouch, but I don’t like them. They make my hands sweat. Are you ready for me to turn out the light?”