Savannah sighed and ordered her eyeballs not to roll. “Just think about it, Olive. Try to remember. It might be important.”
Again, Olive’s forehead furrowed with the effort of getting ready to think. “Okay.” Finally, she answered, “On the floorboard. It was on the floorboard the whole time.”
Savannah loved it when she got the answer she wanted. “Where is your purse now?”
“That trooper guy took it. He put it in a brown grocery bag and wrote something on it.” The blonde’s eyes blazed. “Boy, he’s got a lot of nerve doing that. My mascara’s in there! I’ve been running around with no eyelashes because of him!”
Hmmm, a natural blonde, Savannah thought as she left the room. Wonders never cease!
* * *
As planned, Savannah and Dirk rendezvoused in the picnic area.
Patricia Chumley was still reading. She ignored them, and they returned the favor.
They sat down at a table and watched for a moment as some children purchased a five-dollar soda from the innkeeper, who then allowed them to give it to the eager bear.
He sat back on his haunches, lifted the bottle like a baby taking its formula, and downed it in a few seconds.
The children pealed with laughter, and the innkeeper looked pleased, too, as he shoved the five dollars into his pants pocket.
“That bear’s going to get diabetes,” Savannah said. “How many of those things a day do you reckon he drinks?”
“Let’s just say, I’ll betcha that old coot makes more money off the bear than he does this flea-bag motel.”
“This spider-ridden, flea-bag motel.”
He rubbed his hand over his eyes and it occurred to her that he was probably exhausted. Sleeping scrunched in the back of the Bronco hadn’t helped.
Just to keep his arachno-whacked-out wife company.
How sweet. No wonder she loved him.
“Did she identify Edith?” he asked her.
“Bingo. She said Edith asked her to get out of the van to check something that turned out to be bogus. Olive left her purse in the vehicle when she did.”
“Good. Dr. Johnson said he found prints on the syringe and the purse that weren’t Olive’s. I told him to compare them to Edith’s.”
“Her DMV thumbprint?”
“Better. He’s got her full set. Years ago, she and her sister used to do some courier work back and forth from Ketchikan. They had to be bonded.”
“Good.”
“He shared another juicy tidbit. Turns out that the syringe had human blood in it, mixed with the pento-whatcha-ma-call-it.”
“Wow, that’s great! Can we get a DNA?”
“He sent it off. Who knows when it’ll be back.”
Savannah’s phone rang. She looked at it and said, “Ryan. Good. Maybe they found out something up at the glacier center.” She answered it, “Hi, sugar. What’s shakin’?”
“Not sure how this shakes out,” was his reply. “Don’t know if you’ll be glad or distressed to hear our news.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“The Van Cleefs weren’t at the Tongass Glacier Visitor Center yesterday. We showed their picture to everyone and then, just to be absolutely sure, we watched the security video of the entrance from when the center opened until after the accident. Nary a Van Cleef.”
“Your eyes must be tired.”
He laughed. “Yes, that much fast-forwarding can make you a bit dizzy, but we’d do anything for you, kiddo.”
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”
Savannah looked across the table and saw Dirk grimace.
He didn’t really mind if she flirted with Ryan, since there was no threat of it ever going anywhere. But he seemed to feel the need to register at least a modicum of disgust when it occurred. It was the macho thing to do.
“There’s another reason that you’re going to appreciate us even more,” Ryan was saying. “We heard about your little, um, domestic dispute last night. We’ve arranged to change rooms with you. We didn’t see anything in our number ten that had more than two legs. So, we’ll swap with you. Okay?”
Gratitude flowed through her soul like the Hoover Dam floodgates opening. “Really? Are you kidding? You’d do that for me?” Then she paused, considering the ramifications. “Are you telling me that you’re willing to sleep with Dirk’s parents?”
“No,” was the firm reply. “They’re great people, and we like them a lot. But we talked to them about this already. They’re definitely moving with you.”
Savannah had another call coming through, so she said good-bye, along with some more slobbery sweet expressions of undying gratitude.
Switching modes, she answered the new call with her most professional hello.
It was Dr. Johnson with still more news.
“I’m shocked to say it, but you and your husband were right,” he said. “Those were Edith Yager’s fingerprints on the syringe. Also on the clasp of the purse that belongs to Ms. Kelly.”
Savannah gave Dirk a thumbs-up. “That’s great news, Doctor. But why would you say you’re shocked?”
“Because Edith Yager is one of the best people I’ve ever known in my life,” he said. “Yes, she’s a bit rough around the edges, and maybe not everybody’s cup of tea. But I always figured that anybody who loves animals can’t be all bad. I’ve been her vet for twenty years, and her father’s before her. The Yagers have always been good people.”
Savannah considered his words, then stacked them against the evidence. “Then tell me this, Doc. What’s a good person doing with a syringe containing a lethal concoction mixed with human blood?”
* * *
While Dirk met with Sergeant Bodin and the magistrate to obtain a warrant to search Edith Yager’s trailer and property, Savannah decided to take a short walk down the street to Myrtle’s taxi office.
She figured if anybody was expert on the town’s gossip, it would be the owner/dispatcher of the local taxi service.
When she opened the door to the office, she could hear Myrtle raging at Jake yet again.
“How many times have I told you to check in with me before you leave the center, huh? You drop off a fare, you call me and see if there’s somebody there who wants a ride back. This ain’t that hard, lame brain! Now here you are, back in town, and you’ve gotta turn around and drive back up there. You’re burning twice as much gas, and your fare’s waiting half an hour!”
She slammed down the phone and spit loudly into the soda can on her desk.
Seeing a dark brown streak run down the woman’s chin, Savannah knew she would never again be able to drink from a soft drink can for the rest of her life.
Myrtle looked up, saw Savannah, and accidentally allowed a smile to play across her lips before squelching it.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
Savannah shrugged and stepped farther into the dark, tiny office. “I just wanted to pop in for a minute and say hi.”
“I doubt that,” Myrtle replied. “Nobody drops by here just to see me.”
“Okay. I have an ulterior motive. I want to gossip, too.”
Myrtle’s eyes gleamed, but like her smile, the glimmer was fleeting.
“Then sit down,” she said, pushing a metal folding chair in Savannah’s direction. “Take a load off. Want a soda?”
“No, thanks. I’m on a diet.” Savannah reached up to make sure her nose wasn’t growing.
Heaven knows, girl, she told herself. That’s the biggest whopper of a lie you ever told!
“Who you wanna gossip about?” Myrtle said, almost looking excited.
“Edith Yager,” Savannah replied. “Do you know her very well?”
“Know her? All my life.”
“What’s your impression of her? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Myrtle considered her answer a long time before answering, which pleased Savannah. It was rare to have someone give a thoughtful reply to such a question.
“I’m fond of Edith,” she
said finally. “Though I don’t care to be around her much the way I once did.”
“Why is that?”
“Because she used to be nicer. Back when her father and her sister were alive. She used to be happy and that made her easier to be around.”
Savannah nodded. “The same could be said of most of us, I reckon.”
Myrtle’s eyes bored into Savannah’s with such intensity that Savannah had a hard time not looking away. The dispatcher reminded Savannah of Dirk when he was interrogating a very difficult, potentially violent suspect.
Finally, Myrtle said, “Have you ever lost somebody you loved, Savannah Reid? Somebody you loved with all your heart.”
“Yes, I have. I lost my grandfather, and he was very, very dear to me.”
“Then you know that it changes you. You don’t get over it. You don’t ‘find closure,’ whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. You don’t reach the end of your grief and ‘go on’ with your life. Your life will never be the same once they’re gone, and neither will you. That’s the truth about grief.”
She stopped to spit in one can and then take a swig of soda from the other. “That’s a little secret we humans keep from each other. We don’t talk about how some losses kill a part of you, and you never get it back. Grief ain’t the Iditarod. You can’t pass over a finish line and be done with it.”
“Whom did you lose, Myrtle?” Savannah asked, afraid she might have ventured too far.
But Myrtle smiled as tears filled her eyes. “I lost my husband five years ago. He was a pilot, the best anywhere around. But the storm was a big one and it came on fast.”
She paused, pulled in a shaky breath, and finally continued. “Part of me died that day along with him. Just like part of Edith died six months ago with her sister.”
“What was her cause of death?”
“Cancer. It’s the one that takes all the truly good people, ain’t it?”
Savannah nodded. “Seems it does, yes.”
“Edith nursed her sister up until the day she passed. Never complained to anybody about it neither. I respect that in a person.”
“Me too.”
“But once Mary Beth was gone, Edith just closed herself up there in that trailer with her dogs and none of us heard from her. Not until that business with the author, her so-called best friend forever.”
Savannah sat up straight in her chair and held her breath. “An author? Her best friend?”
“Yeah. I guess it was that one who was killed up by the glacier.”
“She was Edith’s best friend?”
Myrtle shook her head and sniffed. “In Edith’s mind, I guess. Edith said that author contacted her about buying a husky puppy. According to Edith, they e-mailed back and forth a lot about all the different markings on huskies and colors and how to raise them. Really bonded, they did.”
Savannah’s mind was already racing forward to the time when she would try to get the authorities to let Tammy search Edith’s computer for those correspondences.
“Then Edith found out that Natasha gal was coming here, getting off a cruise ship and spending a day here in little ol’ Saaxwoo. Edith went crazy, telling everybody in town that her very best friend was coming to see her. She bought paint and re-did the inside of that old trailer. She sewed new curtains for the windows. She couldn’t wait for her author friend to come visit her.”
“Did she? Go visit her, that is.”
Myrtle leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on her desk. “Don’t know. But something’s wrong. Once a week, like clockwork, Edith drives into town to pick up dog food. Normally, she would’ve come in today. But she didn’t.”
“Is that a big deal?”
“To Edith it is.”
“If you had to guess about what happened between Edith and Natasha, what would you reckon it was?”
“I’d say, if that famous author gal didn’t take the time to go to see Edith, she would have been mighty disappointed. More disappointed than you or me’s ever been in our lives. Devastated. Not to mention humiliated, since she told everybody in town that gal was coming to visit her. On the other hand, if the author gal did go see Edith, and then she wound up dead a stone’s throw from Edith’s house, I’d say that was a strange occurrence. Wouldn’t you?”
“I would.”
Savannah’s phone jingled. She glanced down and read the simple text from Dirk: Got warrant. Coming to get you.
“I have to go, Myrtle,” she said, rising from her chair. “But I want to thank you for taking time to talk to me.”
“No big deal. I didn’t mind.”
Savannah reached for Myrtle’s hand and shook it, then enclosed it in both of hers. “I have to tell you,” she said, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my husband. I’m so sorry that you lost yours. That you lost part of your life. That you lost a precious part of yourself that you won’t get back.”
Once again, Myrtle’s eyes filled with tears. She gave an abrupt nod and said, “Thanks.”
Savannah left quickly, because she could tell that Myrtle was about to cry. Even though she’d known her less than twenty-four hours, Savannah knew that Myrtle wouldn’t want anyone to see her cry.
Chapter 29
Savannah and Dirk stood beside the Bronco, near the YAGER’S CHAMPION HUSKIES sign, listening to Sergeant Bodin instruct Corporal Riggs as they prepared to execute the search warrant on Edith Yager. He warned Riggs that, while she was a seemingly gentle woman, she was also a murder suspect and they should exercise caution at all times.
Finally, he turned to Dirk and said, “Since you’re outside your jurisdiction, Detective, you won’t be acting in an official capacity. But all the same, I’m glad you’re along, and I’ll appreciate any help you can offer.” A look of humility crossed his face. “I’m sure you’ve done this sort of thing more often than we have.”
“No problem,” Dirk said. “But if she’s got a grizzly in that trailer, he’s all yours.”
“Deal.” Bodin turned to Savannah. “The same goes for you, Ms. Reid. You and the members of your agency have brought us this far in the investigation. Please feel free to assist any way you can, as long as, well . . . you know . . .”
“As long as I don’t touch any of your evidence with my dirty civilian hands and bungle the chain of custody.”
He grinned good-naturedly. “Something like that.”
With a wide wave of his arm, he said, “Okay, let’s go get ’er done.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, they were all four inside Edith Yager’s trailer. It was an extremely cozy fit.
Edith stood quietly in the corner, her head down, staring at the soiled, fur-matted carpet. Savannah thought she’d never seen a suspect looking so sad.
Not nervous. Not frightened. Not anxious.
Just sad.
Corporal Riggs was sticking close to her side, watching her, a wary look on his face, as though he expected her to fly into a frenzy of violence at any moment.
Bodin, Dirk, and Savannah were trying to search the trailer, but it wasn’t a simple task. Obviously, there had been efforts made to improve the place: the fresh paint, badly applied, on the walls and some new gingham curtains over the windows. There were signs that it had been in bad shape before those renovations.
The carpet bore the stains and smells of dogs who weren’t house-trained. The furniture was almost as thickly covered with the shed fur as the carpet.
The stench was overpowering and made Savannah’s eyes water.
In the course of her law enforcement career, she had seen as bad as this. Maybe even worse. But it had been a long, long time.
She reminded herself that she wasn’t there to judge Edith Yager’s housekeeping skills. Myrtle had said that she was depressed. Sometimes depressed people found it difficult to do even simple tasks in the interest of basic sanitation.
She was here to determine whether or not Edith was a killer who had taken two people’s lives in a horrible way.
They had all been written by Natasha Van Cleef.
Edith had collected the hardcovers, paperbacks, and large-print editions of each release. French, German, Spanish, and Japanese versions were also scattered among the collection.
“I thought you said you didn’t know Natasha Van Cleef,” Savannah said to her. “You said you’d never heard of her.”
Edith said nothing, but just kept staring at the floor.
At the end of the shelf was a picture frame and inside was one of Natasha’s author headshots. It had been autographed: To Edith, with best wishes, Natasha.
Sergeant Bodin was searching through a tiny desk in the corner. An ancient laptop computer took up most of the desk writing surface. On the floor beneath it sat an antiquated printer.
Bodin opened the desk’s one drawer, and almost immediately he found several things of interest.
The first was a stack of letters, all written to or received from Natasha Van Cleef. The ones sent by the author were still tucked in their envelopes. The letters from Edith to Natasha were printed on computer paper.
To Savannah’s delight, Edith appeared to print and save a copy of any letters she wrote.
Bodin handed Savannah a stack of the papers and she began to skim through them. At first, the correspondence seemed to be typical fan letters from a reader to a beloved author, with Edith extolling Natasha’s talent and thanking her for hours of reading pleasure. Then Natasha had responded with a couple of brief notes, acknowledging the fan mail.
Soon, the women had begun to discuss the prospect of Natasha purchasing a husky puppy from Edith. More letters followed, arranging the payments and making transportation plans. Pictures were sent of the available litter mates, and a deal had been struck.
“You and Natasha had quite a pen pal thing going on here,” Savannah told Edith. “Until you found out she was coming through on a cruise ship. Looks like you invited her to come visit you, but she declined.”
Edith shrugged, looked up for a moment, then lowered her eyes again. “She said she was busy. Had a lot going on. No big deal.”
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