“Mrs. Granger,” she said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Cornelia Hart. Is this a good time?”
“Have you found her?”
“We haven’t been able to locate her, but we’ve released her photo to the press and a statewide alert has been issued. Believe me, we are looking.”
Macy waved Ryan into her office. She’d gotten hold of him just as a waitress was serving him his dinner. He dropped a takeout box on Macy’s desk before slumping down in the only other chair, from where he’d kept a steady glare going through the duration of her phone call.
“I’m actually calling about some information we found on your husband’s laptop,” said Macy.
“I thought it was destroyed in the fire. Where was it all this time?”
“In turns out a fellow tenant at the Bridger Cultural Center stole it. He’s since been cleared of involvement in your husband’s murder but will be charged with theft and obstruction. Your husband had an appointment with Cornelia listed in his calendar for this past Saturday. He was planning on terminating her employment. Did you know anything about this?”
“Sort of. I’d been pressing him to let her go for the past year but he’d always resisted.”
“Why did you want to fire her?”
“It wasn’t just that she was expensive, she’d also become a little too familiar. Don’t get me wrong; Cornelia has been a brilliant personal assistant. I’d recommend her to anyone, but she’d begun to act like one of the family. It was kind of like having a mother-in-law come to stay. She meddled.”
“Did your husband mention the meeting he was having with her?” asked Macy.
“No, not a thing. To tell you the truth, I’m a little surprised. The last time we discussed it he was adamant that she stay on.”
“Maybe your conversation with him on Saturday morning changed his mind. A divorce was going to be expensive.”
* * *
Snow was falling heavily. Visibility was poor so Macy had to slow down several times on the drive over to Cornelia’s apartment complex. She sliced through the crime-scene tape sealing Cornelia’s front door and unlocked a newly installed dead bolt. She and Ryan shook off the snow that had accumulated on their hats and jackets before going inside. They trailed through the condominium, turning on the lights as they went. The entire place had been dusted for fingerprints. So far they’d only been able to find Cornelia’s.
“Okay, you’ve dragged me back here. What do you need to know?” asked Ryan.
“I have a theory about what went on here. I need you to tell me if it’s possible,” said Macy.
Macy went over to the table where Cornelia’s framed photos had all been so carefully arranged the day Macy had come to interview her. Everything that wasn’t bagged as evidence was left the way it was found. She sifted through the overturned frames. She looked under the table and sofa.
Ryan was hovering near the sliding glass doors. He was being so quiet she almost forgot he was there. His voice made her jump.
“It would help if you told me what you are looking for,” said Ryan.
“A small oval-shaped silver frame with a photo of Cornelia holding her daughter.”
“I don’t think anything like that was bagged as evidence. It should be here.”
Macy said, “I can’t find it. It’s not where it was last Thursday when I came to interview Cornelia.”
“It’s a two-bedroom condo. She could have moved it. What’s so special about it?”
“Cornelia’s daughter died when she was two. According to her ex-husband, Cornelia had a difficult time parting with anything that reminded her of Daisy.”
“I guess that explains the ceramic cookie jar she’s using as an urn.”
“You found it?”
“It’s upstairs in the bedroom.”
“Did you check whether there were ashes inside?” asked Macy
“Of course I checked.”
“Is it possible to tell if they’re not human?”
“Is this the part where you tell me your theory and I start counting the holes?” asked Ryan.
“We’re getting there. Tell me if it’s possible.”
“Absolutely. Cremated human remains have unique elemental compositions.”
Macy stood in front of the wood-burning stove. There’d been a hot fire blazing the day she’d come to speak to Cornelia. Macy opened the glass door and peeked inside. Macy was pretty sure Cornelia Hart had been burning books. Something told her that Peter Granger was probably the man who had written them.
“I think we should have a look at what’s inside that cookie jar. I need to know if they’re really Daisy’s ashes.”
“I’m not doing anything until you tell me about this theory of yours.”
“Cornelia may have faked her assault and abduction. I’m certain she was the person Richard Nichols overheard arguing with Peter on Saturday. She was yelling about how he’d taken advantage of her one too many times, which fits what I know about their relationship. She must have been livid when she found out she was being fired. I’m guessing that she pulled a gun on him at some point, which is how she could control him. She’s not a registered owner, but getting one illegally isn’t all that difficult.”
“Okay,” he said. “Go on.”
“Evidence suggests that he’d been taped to his chair. Perhaps he’d urinated he was so frightened. Things have gotten out of hand and she’s suddenly in a hurry. She bundles him off to her car, thinking she’ll come back to clean up later. She accidentally leaves the door ajar.”
“Enter Richard Nichols.”
“Precisely. Cornelia takes Peter to his house on Madison Road and at some point Taylor Moore stumbles in on them. Cornelia kills her and makes arrangements to set the fire, but she hesitates. If she wants to get away with this she really needs to get rid of Hannah as well, which is why she sends the texts from Peter’s phone. Maybe Cornelia assumes Hannah knows that Peter was going to fire her, or that it was Hannah’s idea in the first place. Either way her plans are on hold. Halloween provides an opportunity she doesn’t feel she can pass on. Someone is setting fires around Bolton so she acts fast. The paintings have already been removed from the house and Peter and Taylor are both dead. She douses the house, stashes the fuel cans, lights the match, and leaves.”
“I thought you said earlier that Cornelia had an alibi for Monday evening.”
“Her alibi is a ninety-five-year-old woman named Tess Madden,” said Macy.
“I have a ninety-five-year-old uncle who smokes a pack a day and cheats at golf. Your problem is?”
“Tess is Cornelia’s much-loved friend. Someone she saw as a second mother. Tess is absolutely devoted to Cornelia. She may have lied to protect her.”
“There’s devotion and then there’s perjury. It’s a big jump.”
“Cornelia has been looking after Tess for years. Plus she’s ninety-five. She had nothing to lose by lying to the police when they checked Cornelia’s alibi.”
“And what about the crime scene we’re standing in right now? Something happened here.”
“Cornelia was a critical care nurse for twenty years. A sixteen-gauge needle and some tubing and she’d have enough blood to stage this. All we have is what appears to have seeped through a carpet as she was dragged away—a half a pint would have been more than enough.”
“The shoe prints are a size eleven.”
“She puts on some men’s shoes and walks around the condo a bit. Not exactly sophisticated. You didn’t find any trace in the footprints, which means they could have been straight out of the box. The thing I keep going back to is when Cornelia’s body could have actually been moved. A patrol officer stopped by the apartment on Saturday morning. He went around the side just like I did, but the back door was shut and the curtains were closed, which means that if this really was a serious assault, Cornelia would have had to have been dragged out of here in broad daylight on Saturday. That would have taken some nerve. The sales office was open
and is only five hundred yards away.”
“Did they see anything?”
“Apparently there was a minivan parked nearby for most of Friday and Saturday. She only noticed it when it drove into the complex on Friday because she thought it was a potential buyer and sales have been slow. She couldn’t make out who the driver was.”
“Let’s have a look at that cookie jar,” said Ryan. “If you’re right about that, I’ll believe everything you’re saying.”
“Won’t that take time?”
“Give me five minutes to do a preliminary examination here. The answer may be very obvious. If it’s paper there should be visible fibers, while cremated remains normally have the consistency of coarse sand.”
* * *
Ryan had positioned one of the spotlights the crime-scene techs had left in the house so it was shining directly onto the dining room table, where he’d placed some sterile plastic sheeting and a petri dish. He carefully removed the cookie jar’s lid.
“This feels wrong,” said Macy.
“Do you want answers or not?”
“You’re not just going to dump them out on the table?”
“No, I’m going to scoop out a small sample. I’ll use a magnifying lens to look at it. I’ve got a microscope in my van if we need to take a closer look.”
“Shouldn’t we say a prayer or something?”
Ryan ignored her. He placed the cookie jar’s lid to the side and turned on his headlamp. Ryan used a spatula to scoop some of the contents into the petri dish. He peered at it with his magnifying glass for a few seconds. He switched off his headlamp.
“These aren’t human remains,” said Ryan.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Ryan handed Macy the magnifying glass. “Have a look for yourself.”
“Fuck, I can actually see bits of lettering.”
“Still feel like praying?” asked Ryan.
“Cornelia Hart fooled everyone.”
“Not quite everyone. You figured it out.”
“She could be anywhere by now.” Macy checked the time. It was coming up on nine o’clock. “I need to get over to the nursing home where her friend is a patient. I’m pretty sure it’s on this end of town.”
“You’d better get going. The roads may not be passable for much longer.”
* * *
The receptionist at the Norwood Pines Home for the Elderly was pacing the small area behind her desk with a telephone pressed to her ear. She took a long look at Macy’s detective badge before returning her attention to the person she’d been speaking to.
“That was fast. A police officer has already arrived.” The receptionist pulled her hair back from her face. Beads of perspiration had formed along the bridge of her nose. “It’s a Detective Macy Greeley,” she said. “Yes, she’s standing—”
Macy interrupted her. “I’m here to see Tess Manning. I know it’s late but it’s important I speak to her immediately.”
The receptionist put her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece.
“Tess Manning was found dead in her room. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
They stared at each other.
“When did this happen?” asked Macy.
“Just now. Someone broke in. There’s glass…”
A heavyset nurse came barreling down the hallway waving her arms. She was red-faced and breathing hard. According to the nametag, her name was JOYCE.
“I just saw a car driving out of the parking lot. It was Cornelia…”
Macy held up her detective badge.
“Joyce,” said Macy. “This is important. What did the car look like?”
Joyce took a big gulp of air. “It was minivan. Dark color. Blue I think.”
Macy’s cell phone rang. Brad had just got word that she was already at the care home. Macy spoke as she ran from the building.
“Brad, we’ve got to move fast. Cornelia Hart was just spotted driving away from Norwood Pines in a dark blue minivan. I’m heading after her. You need to set up roadblocks on Route 90.”
The weather had worsened. It was difficult to see anything through the heavily falling snow. Macy walked a few paces in each direction before finally stopping so she could get her bearings. She took out her car keys and pressed the fob that unlocked the SUV’s doors. She ran toward the flashing headlights.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Brad. “Cornelia Hart is missing, presumed dead.”
“She staged the whole thing and if we don’t move fast she’s going to get away.”
Macy climbed behind the steering wheel and started the car. The big engine rumbled to life.
“I’ll arrange the roadblocks and send assistance. Anything else?”
Macy almost laughed. “Don’t suppose you can do something about the weather,” she said.
“Sorry, you’re on your own on that front.”
Macy tucked the phone in her pocket and turned on the sirens. Cornelia had a head start but the road back down to Route 90 was steep and had several hairpin turns. Snow was falling heavily throughout the valley. In this weather there were only a handful of roads out of Bolton that would be passable in a minivan and Route 90 was one of them. If the police set up roadblocks in time they might be able to keep Cornelia Hart from leaving town.
* * *
Snowflakes glowed like paper lanterns in the glare of Macy’s headlights. The town of Bolton was no longer visible in the distance. The powder-dry snow swirled in eddies across the slick surface as sixty-mile-an-hour gusts of wind smacked hard against Macy’s big-four by-four SUV. Keeping it on the road was proving to be a struggle.
Macy sat as far forward in the driver’s seat as she dared and peered over the steering wheel. Another vehicle had left faint impressions in the freshly fallen snow. She was hoping it was the minivan. She took the first switchback a little too fast and her vehicle’s back end started to go into a slide. She turned into the direction of the skid and slowed down. She was no good to anyone if she ended up in a ditch.
After the third switchback the road straightened out. It was now a five-mile stretch of relatively flat terrain before the road intersected Route 90. Nothing was visible outside of the headlight’s arc. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator and drove as fast as she dared.
At first the twin pinpricks of red taillights were barely visible, but it wasn’t long before Macy caught up with the minivan. She flashed her high beams several times but Cornelia wouldn’t pull over to the side.
Macy risked a quick glance at the speedometer. They were travelling at nearly seventy miles an hour. The minivan was starting to fishtail on its narrow wheels and soft suspension. It soon lost traction and went into a skid, its back end whipping around until it was sideways in the middle of the road. Macy veered to the right to avoid broadsiding it but clipped its front bumper as she hurdled past. There was a loud crunch, then silence. In the rearview mirror Macy watched as the minivan spun out of sight.
Macy came to a stop and reversed until she was parallel to where the minivan had crashed into a tree that overlooked a shallow drainage ditch. Macy looked toward the southeast. The emergency lights on the horizon were growing brighter. She put a call into dispatch and requested an ambulance before stepping out into the storm.
Macy struggled to stay upright on the icy surface and ended up sliding down the side of the shallow drainage ditch on her bottom. She shined a flashlight into the minivan’s dark interior. Cornelia Hart was staring straight ahead with her hands gripping tight to the steering wheel. A fallen tree branch blocked the door so Macy couldn’t get it open. She knocked on the window with the butt of her gun.
“Cornelia, are you okay in there?”
Cornelia started sobbing. She rested her head against the steering wheel. Macy removed her firearm from its holster.
“I want you to roll down the window,” said Macy. “No sudden movements.”
Cornelia did as directed.
“Keep your hands back on the steering wheel
where I can see them,” ordered Macy. “You got a firearm in there?”
Cornelia took one hand off the steering wheel and gestured to the glove compartment.
“I told you to keep your hands on the steering wheel,” said Macy.
“There’s a handgun in the glove compartment,” said Cornelia.
Macy removed a pair of handcuffs from her belt. “Anything else?”
“No, ma’am.”
Macy reached in and secured Cornelia’s wrists with the handcuffs before pulling the key from the ignition. Two patrol cars drove up just as she started to inform Cornelia of her rights.
* * *
It was freezing in Tess Manning’s room. A bitter wind lifted the drapes and rattled the sliding glass doors. The elderly woman appeared to be sleeping. Ryan stepped away from her body.
“She hasn’t been dead long. A little over an hour, tops.”
“There’s a pillow on the floor. Do you think she was asphyxiated?” asked Macy.
“I believe that is the case, but we will have to do tests to be absolutely sure. According to staff, Tess has been despondent since Thursday afternoon. She was refusing to eat.”
“I bet Cornelia told her she was leaving.”
“I imagine Cornelia was getting a little jumpy. Hiding twenty million dollars’ worth of paintings in a minivan is a tall order for anyone,” he said.
“She also knew someone out there had stolen Peter’s laptop. She had no choice but to run.”
Macy checked her phone but there wasn’t anything new from the team at the accident site. In the morning, they’d interview Cornelia Hart formally, but as far as Macy was concerned she’d already gotten a confession. The whole story came out while they’d waited for rescue workers to remove Cornelia from the vehicle.
“Cornelia murdered someone she saw as her mother. How could she do that?” asked Macy.
Ryan was pouring over Tess Manning’s medical records.
“You’ll have to ask Cornelia to be sure, but my best guess is that it was a last act of mercy. According to these charts, Tess Manning was in the final stages of bone cancer. She would have been in a lot of pain.”
Macy inspected the sliding glass doors. The glass was broken from the outside and the lock forced. Fresh snow was thick on the ground. Any tracks Cornelia may have left were gone.
Silent Rain Page 27
