The son picked up on the urgency, shaking hands briefly. “Paul Whitmer, and I’ve made an appointment with Sergeant Weber, but my mother insisted on talking to you first. She has an elevated view of the importance of what she did vis à vis giving out information. I doubt very much that this has anything to do with the problems that have befallen Foster’s.”
What was this giving out information line? “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I thought your mother had something to confess?” Heaven wished she’d written down exactly what Marie had said to her.
The son looked at his mother and continued. “Foster’s bought a company in Philadelphia several years ago, Smithson’s Samplers. It was quite famous but badly run. Foster’s closed it and laid off most of the staff. An employee of that company died of cancer a few years after the buyout and a grief-stricken loved one of that employee befriended my mother over the phone and over the years, asked her questions about Foster’s. The answers to those questions were probably not for public consumption. Their initial contact was because the employees’ insurance had not been properly extended and due to that there were some problems with the healthcare. The loved one didn’t blame my mother for this, or Foster’s, it seemed. It had been mishandled at the Philadelphia end. My mother actually helped the loved one to receive compensation from the insurance company. Of course, the former employee was still dead, compensation couldn’t change that. But my mother and the loved one continued their phone calls long after the problem was dealt with. Mother now feels some of the questions this person asked and she answered were not appropriate for someone outside the company.”
Heaven took a big breath. She had a million questions and no time. Obviously she and Marie had been talking about different things. “I understand that you want to protect your mother legally. But I have no legal standing whatsoever so talking to me doesn’t count. Could you tell me the name of the person your mother talked to?” Now Heaven turned toward Marie. “I don’t suppose Janie Anderson or David Foster fit that description?” All of her suspects were going down in one fell swoop.
Marie looked at her like she was crazy. “No, it was a woman named Kathy Hager. It’s a little embarrassing for me to talk about this because the person in her life, the person who died, was another woman. Kathy was so nice and she was just brokenhearted, I can tell you that. I didn’t give it too much thought, but now, remembering things she said … I don’t think for a minute Kathy would do anything destructive but she did know about Oliver Bodden and the blimp ahead of the time those things were public knowledge. As I said she was a very nice women, even if she was a—”
Paul Whitmer held up his hand. “Mom, I’m sure this Kathy Hager has nothing to do with the Foster mess. But we came here because you felt uneasy and we’ll tell the police, just in case.”
Heaven took Marie Whitmer’s hand and kissed it, much to the older woman’s surprise. “Tony, will you get my friends a chocolate martini on me,” she said and then realized that was probably pushing the chocolate theme too far. “Or whatever they want, please,” she yelled at the bartender over the din. “I’m sure your son is right. You didn’t give away any state secrets and you can’t be responsible for what Kathy or your bosses have done. I’ve got to go. Thank you,” Heaven said as fast as she could. She found Murray talking to a six top and smiled at the guests while pulling him aside. “Call Bonnie and beg her to meet me here at ten-thirty, after she talks to Marie. I should be able to get out of the kitchen by then. And ask Joe if he knows where Kathy Hager lives.”
“I don’t know, H. You know the law. The house is pitch dark. If you can’t observe a crime being committed, how can you justify breaking in to stop a crime? Are you sure this is the right address?”
Heaven held up a cocktail napkin with writing on it to show Bonnie. “Joe has one of those electronic address books, so yes, I’m sure this is the right place. Remember why we decided to make this a casual visit, just you and me instead of a formal police thing? So we could improvise. We turn on some lights if we need to later and say whatever it takes. Bonnie, Kathy may be in there and just asleep. When we knock on the door she’ll probably let us in and we’ll take a look around and find out she’s a messy housekeeper or she keeps girlie porn but I’m sure we won’t find Janie.”
Bonnie opened her car door and got out. “Then why are we here?” she asked sourly. “This Kathy Hager never mentioned to you that she was hooked up in any way with Foster’s and to me, that stinks. Even when she told you about her lover’s insurance problems she didn’t say that it was caused by the evil Foster’s Chocolates and, boy, am I glad they’ve had a patch of bad luck.” She looked over the top of her car at Heaven. “Why are you backpedaling? Are you scared?”
“Of course not. Did I mention she went pheasant hunting so she must know how to shoot a gun?”
“Yes, and I mentioned that you shoot pheasants with a shotgun, not a rifle like what took down the airship. But it does establish that she can shoot at least one type of gun and the fact that you brought it up right now establishes that you’re scared.”
Heaven slammed her car door and marched up the sidewalk toward the house, head held high, not looking back at Bonnie. “Nice house. Brookside is a nice neighborhood.”
Bonnie hurried to catch up to her friend. “Slow down. Let me do the talking,” she barked as she climbed the steps to the front porch. “Kathy, hello, Kathy Hager,” she called, knocking on the front door.
Heaven peered in the front windows of the house. “I see a couch, two leather chairs.”
Bonnie gestured to her. “Get away from that window. You know better than that.”
“Try the door,” whispered Heaven.
Bonnie’s hand moved instantly down to the doorknob and when it turned, she held up her hand for Heaven to stop. “Stay here. It may be a set-up.”
“She probably just forgot. Probably goes in and out the back door,” Heaven said, doubting her own words. What if Bonnie was killed or wounded because of her? “Pull your gun,” she hissed.
Bonnie waved her Smith & Wesson at Heaven, already by her side. “Stay here,” she said and opened the door and stepped inside with her weapon in front of her. She turned on all the light switches by the front door, lighting up the front porch, the entry hall and the living room. “Kathy Hager. Are you all right?” Silence. The house felt empty. She stepped back to the door and smiled at Heaven. “You followed my orders for once. How refreshing.”
“This was a bad idea,” Heaven said as she stepped into the hall. “One of my really bad ideas. Maybe we should call for backup.”
Bonnie was already in the living room and headed for the kitchen. “Stay with me now. Be close to the one with the gun.” She turned on the lights in the dining room as they passed through. An arched doorway without a door led to the kitchen. She found the light right inside the arch and they peered in at a tidy, clean kitchen with President plates displayed around the top of the cabinets. “I haven’t seen President plates since grade school,” Bonnie observed.
“The whole house has a retro feel to it,” Heaven remarked. “I haven’t seen an Early American dining-room set for a while either. I’m surprised there weren’t crocheted doilies on the chairs. Maybe I’m all wrong on this, Bonnie.”
Bonnie Weber had already moved toward the bedroom wing of the house, gun still out. “Stick close,” she said softly, opening the first door. “Bathroom,” she said. Heaven caught up with her for the next door opening. It was a home office with a computer station, a file cabinet and a bookshelf filled with lots of photos of Kathy and a pretty, feminine-looking woman with long, curly, strawberry-blond hair. There were also photos of the strawberry blonde in a baseball hats and turbans. It was clear she had lost the beautiful locks, Heaven supposed during some form of chemotherapy. There were also a dozen trophies from body building contests on the bookshelf.
Bonnie went to the last door at the end of the hall and opened it, Heaven right behind her. It was clearly the master
bedroom. The bed was made, the comforter fluffed, the television turned off, the shoes and dirty clothes put away somewhere. Bonnie turned on the light in the closet and master bath as well as the bedroom. “Her closet is still full. If she ran, she didn’t take clothes with her from this closet.”
Heaven opened a drawer in a wooden bureau. It was full of tee shirts. “Same here. Maybe Kathy went to the grocery store and just forgot to lock the front door.”
“At eleven-thirty at night?”
Heaven shrugged. “That’s why they have twenty-four-hour stores. Someone uses them. Did you see a door to the basement? Most of these Brookside houses have basements.”
“Let’s go back to the kitchen,” Bonnie said and as they headed down the hall they spotted a door tucked in the entryway area that Heaven had taken for a coat closet during the first tour. Bonnie quickly opened it. “Well, well, what do we have here?” she said as she flipped on the light. There were stairs leading down.
Heaven bent down and peeked. She saw a washer and dryer. “I hate this part. This is always where the detective gets jumped by the homicidal maniac.”
Bonnie held her gun out in front of her. “Put your hand loosely on my shoulder and let’s go,” she ordered and they quickly went down the stairs. There was another light switch on the wooden beam at the bottom of the staircase and Bonnie flipped that on. As well as the laundry area, the basement had a workshop with a pegboard wall hung with tools, coffee cans full of nails and a work table built from a four-by-eight piece of plywood. Back in the corner was a small door.
Heaven straightened up from the crouch she’d been in coming down the stairs, looking around with relief. “Just a normal basement. No torture chamber or chain saw or anything. Let’s go.”
“Are you thinking of that old case where the guy escaped from a house just wearing the dog collar and nothing else?” Bonnie asked. “And the killer cut up his victims in the basement? I worked that case. Let’s just check this little door. Probably full of Christmas decorations.”
Heaven shuddered. “Bonnie, did you notice? There wasn’t one holiday decoration upstairs? The house was totally Midwest traditional. Why wasn’t there a Christmas tree?”
“You told me she said she wasn’t in the holiday spirit,” Bonnie said as she walked carefully toward the small door. She tried it and it was locked.
Heaven had moved over behind Bonnie. “That’s weird. Usually these canning rooms aren’t locked up.” Using the phrase canning room jolted Heaven’s memory. “Bonnie, do you remember when that darling little old lady tried to kill me in her canning room?”
Bonnie nodded her head, then threw her weight into pushing at the door. From the other side, there was movement, the rustling of paper. “Hello, this is Detective Bonnie Weber. Is someone in there?
Muffled sounds. “That sounds like a person trying to talk,” Heaven said. “Let me help you with this door.” She threw herself against it but it didn’t give. However, the weight of Heaven’s body jarred the door frame enough that a key fell off the top of the doorjamb to the floor.
Bonnie scooped up the key and grinned. “Now I know why I let you come with me on these jobs.” She leaned over, working the lock, and shortly the little door popped open toward the main room of the basement. Bonnie straightened up and looked at Heaven. “We’re almost done,” and she felt around inside the open door for a light switch. As she stepped in the darkness, the smell overwhelmed her. “H, come here.”
“Oh, my God. It must be a chocolate cellar,” Heaven said as she stood in the door, breathing in deeply. “Try the middle of the room. Usually there’s a lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room.”
“You’re now an expert on canning rooms,” Bonnie said with a chuckle. She stepped deeper into the room and her foot hit something soft. “Oh, shit. Stay there.” In just a second, the lightbulb was turned on and Bonnie and Heaven saw Janie Anderson, trussed up like a Christmas turkey on the floor covered with candy wrappers, her face and body soiled with chocolate. As Bonnie reached down to pull the duct tape off Janie’s mouth, Heaven looked around the small room, lined with every kind of chocolate she could think of. “Bonnie, this place is a stash. Look, there must be a hundred pounds of Scharffenberger over there.”
“Water,” Janie moaned, her eyes fluttering.
Bonnie looked up at her from where she was kneeling beside Janie. “H, do you have your cell?”
“In the car,” Heaven said.
“Then get the hell up the stairs, find a phone and call 911. And be careful. You can ogle the chocolate later. Bring some water and a blanket.”
Vegetarian Chili with Chocolate
1 15-oz. can kidney beans
1 15-oz. can garbanzo beans
2 15-oz. cans black beans
1 15-oz. can diced tomatoes with the liquid, or 2 cans Rotel tomatoes and jalapeños
1 onion, peeled and chopped
1 yellow pepper, chopped
2 stalks celery, diced
2–6 cloves garlic diced, according to taste
2 jalapeños, seeded and sliced 1 package chili seasoning
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 oz. bittersweet chocolate, broken up
This is a wonderful meatless dish first created by playwright Phil Blueowl Hooiser.
Drain the beans and throw everything but the chocolate into a slow cooker for 6–8 hours on low. Add a cup of water if it’s too thick. Stir in the chocolate about an hour before serving.
Thirteen
Iwish Sal was open,” Heaven said as she looked over at the barbershop from the front windows of Café Heaven. She and Bonnie Weber were eating vegetarian chili with chocolate in it and Diet Cokes. It was ten in the morning on New Year’s Eve.
“It’s Sunday, Sal’s only day off. What’s the matter, don’t you think we’ll be able to think on this side of the street?” Bonnie teased.
“Thanks for coming over here,” Heaven said, ignoring the jibe. “I had to stay put. I came in at eight and everyone else came in at nine. We have lots of prep to do for tonight.”
“Are you having your usual floor show?”
“Oh, yes. Chris and Joe asked for a hundred bucks last week for costumes. I’m afraid to ask.”
“So, I guess you want to know what Janie Anderson said when she got hydrated and calmed down.”
“Every word.”
“It will be disappointing to a drama queen like you. No big confrontation. She drove home and even though it was barely five it was getting dark and as we know from Stephanie, Janie had acted out at the Christmas dinner so she was in an agitated state and probably wasn’t watching her surroundings. Let that be a lesson to us all. She got out of the car and Kathy evidently had been watching her house, waiting. She came up behind Janie with chloroform or something like it on a rag. Kathy is strong; Janie was caught off guard. She just remembers being grabbed from behind and this smelly rag put over her face. When she woke up she was in the chocolate cellar. She still didn’t know who had snatched her until the next day sometime when Kathy came down, smacked her around and crammed chocolate down her throat for a few minutes then left. She called Janie a Foster’s bitch but didn’t say much else. I’ll talk to her again tomorrow when she gets out of the hospital. Her folks are going to take her to their house and they promise to get her in therapy. I told them about the food specialist at the Med. Center. Everything Janie told me was a little sketchy, unfortunately. Janie isn’t the best witness on a good day, and this isn’t a good day.”
Heaven pulled out a cocktail napkin from her chef’s jacket pocket. “I’m guessing you haven’t found Kathy?”
“You guessed right. What’ve you got there?”
“A list. First crime: the airship incident. Kathy Hager is certainly muscular enough to look like a boy-type Santa in a Santa suit with some padding.”
Bonnie nodded. “Yes and I suppose knowing she can shoot a shotgun could lead to the assumption that she could be good enough with a rifle for the airship hit.
It’s a stretch but I think we can put a small check on that one.”
Heaven took a pen out of her pocket and made a big check. “Now, the death of Oliver Bodden. Kathy was strong.”
“She could have knocked him unconscious, pushed him in the chocolate, and then pulled the wire tight, yes.”
Heaven made another check. “Stephanie has never met Kathy, to my knowledge. In all the bustle at the Chocolate Queen last week she could have slipped some larvae in the back room storage containers and she wouldn’t have recognized her as anything but a random customer.”
“What about the bad chocolate at Foster’s?”
“I don’t know how she could have pulled that one. Unless the secretary let Kathy come into the building?”
Bonnie slapped Heaven on the shoulder. “Marie Whitmer. That’s probably why she’s feeling so guilty. I’ll have to talk to her son, the lawyer.”
“So I’ll put a check by the bugs and a question mark by the bloom at the factory.”
“The graffiti and the windows here at the café have to get another question mark. We don’t have anything to tie Kathy to that.”
“Oh, please. Who else could it be? She knew I was friends with Stephanie and that I was going to be a chef for the Foster’s party. It must be her.”
“It most likely is but we don’t have any proof. Actually we don’t have one eyewitness for any of this,” Bonnie pointed out. “You were hot for Janie as the perp just yesterday. And she is deluded. Maybe she broke into Kathy’s house and set her up to conceal her own guilt.”
“And duct taped her own mouth and tied herself up? Come on, Bonnie,” Heaven said impatiently.
Bonnie got up. “I’m just bringing up a point. We don’t have jack. I believe as you do that Kathy Hager has the best motive so far. And she’s missing and her daughter in Omaha says she told her she was going on a retreat for Christmas. She didn’t go pheasant hunting with the son-in-law.”
Heaven stacked the dishes and loaded them on her arm. “Have they heard from her?”
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