by Curry, Edna
He looked expectantly at her for recognition and she nodded. Everyone in town knew one of the area's largest employers.
“Nora keeps house and mainly does charity and community stuff, you know? There's been nothing unusual in our lives until this past week. I just don't understand it.”
“Your address and phone number?” Lacey asked, pen poised.
He handed her his card. Then, remembering the black sedan car which had almost collided with them as it followed Nora from the cemetery, she asked suspiciously, “Are you having your wife followed?”
He flushed and nodded. “My chauffeur is doing it for me. I don't think she'll notice, though, 'cause he's using his brother's car. Don't get me wrong. I love my wife. I'm only trying to protect her. All kinds of creeps are out there. Most of them are con-artists who are only interested in our money.” He stood to shake her hand.
Lacey said goodbye with mixed feelings. She was pretty sure she already knew what had suddenly upset Nora. It was unfair to keep that information from her husband.
On the other hand, perhaps Mr. Munson was involved in more ways than he admitted.
How far would he go if he thought his marriage was threatened?
Chapter 10
Using the information Mr. Munson had given her, Lacey began searching on her computer, digging for information on both him and Nora.
The Historical Society had copies of all the local newspapers on file and she found the Munson's mentioned quite often there. Reporters had done profiles on them or Munson Manufacturing on several occasions. Most of what she found was predictable and uninteresting; it seemed that they were a proper, well-to-do business couple.
After a couple of hours, her rumbling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since that hurried cup of coffee with Marion. Thinking of her friend made Lacey realize that no one knew more about the people in Landers than Marion. Marion would know a lot of stuff not printed by the newspapers. She was just the person she needed to talk to, Lacey decided, picking up the phone.
“Hi, Marion. Got time for lunch?”
“Lunch? Lacey, it's almost three o'clock.
“Oh. So it is. Coffee, then. How about the Flame in fifteen minutes?”
“Make it twenty.” By the time Lacey drove into Landers, Marion was already seated at a table in the dining room. A flame flickered in the red pebbled-glass candleholders, which echoed the restaurant's name.
Marion sent her a wide smile and said, “I was just thinking I had time to go outside for a cigarette. What are you having? I waited for you before ordering.”
“I don't know, but I'm starving,” Lacey admitted, and smiled a welcome at the young waitress who hurried over and poured her some coffee from the black carafe on the table.
“Let me guess. You had your nose glued to your computer screen and forgot to eat lunch again.”
Lacey grinned. “You know me too well.”
Marion sniffed derisively. “I should, after all these years. You were the same way in school. When you had your nose in a book, the school could have burned down around you and you wouldn't have noticed.”
“I wasn't that bad!” Lacey protested.
“Oh yes, you were.” Marion flushed, realizing the waitress was fidgeting, her pen poised to take their order.
Lacey ordered a cheeseburger and fries and Marion seconded her order. Lacey gave her a questioning look, which Marion answered with, “I only had some yogurt at noon.”
The waitress scurried away.
“Is she new?” Lacey asked, watching her nervous movements.
Marion laughed. “Yes. That's Kerry Anderson. Harry and Jean's niece. Lively little gal, isn't she?”
“You know everyone around here, don't you?”
Marion shrugged, flipping a stray strand of her long black hair behind her ear. “I'm related to a lot of them, one way or another, you know. That makes it easier. Then, of course, I listen to women chatter to each other all day while they're looking at clothes or trying them on. Gossip goes with the territory.”
Lacey nodded and unfolded her napkin. “Remember I told you about the little girl who ran into me and dropped her ice-cream last night? And the creepy man who stared at me when I waited around to buy her another cone?”
“Sure. What about it?”
“Well, that creepy guy was the ice cream lady's husband. Apparently, he was watching his wife, not me.”
Marion lifted a skeptical dark eyebrow. “You don't mean Hal Munson?”
The waitress brought their food and Lacey hungrily bit into her burger. Catsup oozed out and she grabbed her napkin to wipe it from her lip. “That's him.”
“That's weird. I mean that you thought he was scary or creepy. I always considered him a staid, business type guy.”
“Yeah? What else do you know about him?”
Marion lifted a thin shoulder and dipped a French fry into her pleated paper cup of catsup. Giving Lacey a questioning look, she asked, “We are talking about the same man, here, aren't we? Almost bald, with only a ring of red hair left, a round face?”
Lacey nodded, waiting for Marion to go on.
“He has a reputation as a ruthless, powerful businessman. He owns Munson Manufacturing in the Industrial Park. No one crosses him, I've heard, unless they are planning to leave town for good.”
“That tough, eh?”
“Yeah. But he's pretty soft when it comes to Nora, his wife. He thinks the world of her. Although, I believe he's very jealous. I heard once that's because his mother was unfaithful to his father.”
“I see.” A chill slid down Lacey's spine, making her shiver. How far would a jealous man go to protect what he considered his own? Especially one who was used to getting his own way about everything? Would he stop at murder? Or running a car off a cliff?
“He and Nora never had kids. There was some talk that they were trying to adopt a child a few years ago, but they never did.”
“So, Nora doesn't have a job, just does volunteer work?”
Marion nodded, finishing off her burger. “She's involved in lots of stuff up at the Lutheran Church and in the Hospital Auxiliary. And she always works on the Chamber promotions for the town, like our festival last night. She likes working at anything in the community which involves kids, like dishing up those ice cream cones.”
Lacey remembered seeing Nora's perfectly coifed gray head bent over the crying little girl last night. “Usually involving kids, eh?”
Marion nodded. “She's really a kind-hearted soul. I don't know why she married crabby Hal. They're so different. Why the sudden interest in our town's richest citizens? Just 'cause he spooked you last night?”
Lacey shook her head and finished off her coffee. “It's more than that. But I can't talk about it at the moment.”
“If you say so.” Marion's bright fingernail polish echoed the red of the candleholder as she leaned forward and blew out the flame. “I always seem to miss the best part of the news in this town.”
“No chance of that happening, Marion,” Lacey said with a little laugh. “Do you happen to know anyone who works with Hal? I mean close, like in his office?”
“Sure. Candy Jones is in his secretarial pool. She lives down the block from Mom and Dad. I think she works mostly with one of his managers, but you know the way gossip gets around in a small town office.”
“Great. I'll talk to her.”
Kerry returned to ask if they wanted dessert. When both women declined, Kerry plopped down their bill and hurried off to answer a customer's wave at a table across the room.
“Speaking of desserts,” Marion said, glancing at Lacey. “My mom has roped me into serving pies at the church bazaar tomorrow. Can I get you to come help me out?”
Lacey bit her lip. “Marion, you know I hate those things. Some of my relatives always show up and trap me into answering questions about my lack of a husband.”
“Please, pretty please? I'm going to be stuck for hours if you don't give me a hand. Pastor Bob
is supposed to find another gal to help me, but he's so absent-minded that I know he'll forget. I'll be stuck cutting a hundred pies and putting them on plates by myself.”
At the mention of the pastor, Lacey paused. Maybe she'd get a chance to talk to him without actually questioning him. Or maybe Nora would be there, as well. She needed to talk to both of them. “Will the pastor be there?”
“Oh, sure. He always comes by when there's homemade pie and ice cream. Candy may be there, too,” Marion added.
That did it. “Okay. What time?”
“About two o'clock. You're a doll.” Marion picked up her purse. “I'd better get back to work.”
Lacey picked up the check. “Lunch is on my newest client.”
“Great. Thanks, Lacey. Bye now.” With a wink, she strode out.
Lacey stared after her, finishing her coffee and thinking of her next move. She'd love to go talk to Pastor Bob Sawyer, who'd conducted the graveside service for John this morning. She knew he'd been pastor of First Lutheran for the past ten years and most likely knew more about his congregation than anyone else.
She was willing to bet he was the one who'd been recruited by Nora Munson to claim and bury her son's body anonymously. The unusual open casket and his sympathetic treatment of Nora pointed to that scenario. Lacey felt quite sure now, that Nora was the answer to that puzzle.
But there was no point in directly asking the pastor. He couldn't divulge his parishioner's secrets and she'd learn nothing. She'd have to be subtler than that. She'd learned over the years to read body language and put two and two together to get six.
She paid the bill and left the restaurant, deciding to deposit Hal Munson's retainer. She didn't like carrying large amounts of cash around.
The stoplight was red at the intersection. Tourists took the opportunity to cross the highway to the park, even though a sign clearly warned them to use the underpass. Apparently, they would rather risk getting hit by a car than walk an extra block on the expensive scenic steps under the bridge.
She drove to her bank, then returned. On impulse, she turned into the park instead of going home. She was tired and people-watching in Interstate Park was one of her favorite ways to relax while she worked out problems in her mind.
She left her car and climbed the cement walkway to a high vantage spot, then left the walkway and sat down on a large rock overlooking the river.
In the distance she could hear the sounds of traffic, and occasionally people talking on the paths behind her. Otherwise, the sounds of the river flowing over the rapids far below were all that broke the wonderful peace of nature.
Wrapping her arms around her knees, she spent a relaxing hour, hoping the quiet beauty of the sunny spring day would help her organize the details of her cases in her mind. She went over each detail, again and again, looking for the missing pieces to the puzzle. She knew they were there, if she could just put them together.
On the opposite bank several teens in bright red and blue jackets sat on the edge of the cliffs, swinging their feet, seemingly oblivious to the danger of falling a hundred feet to the rocks below them.
She glanced south at the turbulent current in the swift-moving river just below the cliff-hanging teens. Rocks beneath the bridge roiled it up, but she knew that it was about ninety feet deep a few yards further down the gorge below where the tour boat was unloading passengers. It wasn't her idea of a fun place to climb.
Suddenly the sounds of sirens split the air behind her and she realized that a small crowd had gathered near some rocks further down the river. She wished she'd brought her binoculars. From this distance, she couldn't see what was going on, but soon saw some men making their way to those rocks, carrying a stretcher.
Damn. Another climbing accident! She watched them put someone dressed in blue on the stretcher and carry it to the waiting ambulance. They'd made little effort to do anything like mouth to mouth before taking the person away. She shuddered, knowing that meant the person was past help.
Suddenly the beautiful day seemed less so. Lacey picked her way carefully off the rock and followed the cement path back to her car, then drove home.
***
After his brother's funeral, Paul dropped Lacey at the auto repair shop. He waited to make sure that they had a rental car for her and then drove back to Canton. There, he assured his banker that he was alive and made sure his accounts were still active. Then he went back to his apartment.
With a sigh, he surveyed the mess, then went to his big roll-top desk and pulled up the cover. Apparently the guy hadn't missed much. Although it was in as big a mess as everything else, his checkbook and papers were all still there. He frowned. If it had been an attempted robbery, why hadn't the intruder taken the blank checks? Maybe he didn't like forging and only wanted cash? He saw the round metal candy can he kept his silver coins in, and pulled it out. Metal rattled against metal and it was still heavy. He opened it and found his coin collection intact. Odd. Maybe the guy had missed it.
With a sigh, he went to his easy chair, replaced the seat cushion and sat down. He picked up the phone to report the break-in.
While he waited for the local police officer to arrive, he made some calls to check on his trucking business. He'd neglected it long enough. His employees were great but he didn't want to take advantage of them.
He went back to his desk for his customer files but they weren't there. After searching through everything, he concluded they were what the burglar had been after. Now why would anyone want those?
Andrew, an employee on the East Coast, didn't answer at either his cellular or his home telephone. Paul left a message on his home voice mail, and tried Kate, another trucker who worked for him part-time.
“The load of fruit and vegetables were delivered to Philadelphia on schedule,” she assured him.
“What about the return load of dog food?”
“I don't know about that. I think someone else must've already picked it up when the driver got to the warehouse. Hank would know.”
But Hank didn't answer either. Damn it, why weren't they answering their cell phones? They couldn't all be out of range or out of battery power at the same time, could they? He knew their cell phones didn't work in the mountains a good deal of the time, but....
Paul hung up, feeling frustrated. He wished he could get back on the road, but didn't want to leave town without Sheriff Ben's okay. Out of sheer orneriness, Ben would probably put out an APB on him and arrest him if he did.
Next Paul telephoned Lacey to ask if she'd discovered the identity of the woman they'd seen at the cemetery. She gave him the name and address of Nora Munson.
He hung up thinking Lacey had sounded wary, like she was hiding something. What was she up to now? He had the awful feeling that she was in danger. That thought made him sick to his stomach. He'd never forgive himself if she got hurt while trying to help him.
Maybe he should just tell her to drop this case. But then he'd never know who'd killed his brother. He closed his eyes in frustration. He felt sure Lacey could find the answer, if anyone could.
What if they'd meant to kill him instead of John? What if Lacey was still in danger? Would they let her alone if he fired her, or would they think she knew too much and try to kill her anyway? He shouldn't have left her alone. He was about to call her back when the Canton police officer arrived to investigate the burglary.
As he'd expected, he wasted an hour answering his pointless questions, mostly with 'I don't know.'
After the officer left, Paul tried calling Lacey again. No answer. Damn it anyway, where was she?
He tried Hank again. This time, Hank's girl friend answered.
“I think he's in the Twin Cities.”
“What the hell is Hank doing in the Twin Cities? I scheduled him on runs up and down the East Coast this month.”
“He didn't say. He's supposed to call me at ten tonight, but I don't know if he will, now. We had a quarrel just before he left.”
Great, Paul t
hought as he listened to her complaints about Hank. “I'll try his cellular phone again, then. Thanks.”
He decided to look up Nora and try to find out if she was really his birth mother. He drove over to Landers and looked up the address Lacey had given him. Her house was easy to find. In fact, it stuck out like a sore thumb.
It was a large, red brick rambler, set back against acres of evergreens cascading down the hillside behind it. Red and yellow tulips bloomed in well-kept beds under the picture windows along the front, and a manicured expanse of green lawn lay like a blanket between a concrete driveway and sidewalks. A gardener on a riding lawnmower looked at him curiously, but made no move to stop mowing.
The maroon Cadillac he'd seen her get into at the funeral was parked in front of the double garage, telling him he had indeed found the right house.
Obviously, she'd married well. What would it have been like to have grown up here, with John and maybe other brothers and sisters to play with? To have been wanted and loved instead of adopted and separated from his twin?
Paul parked his blue Cavalier boldly in the driveway, strode to the door and rang the bell. He heard the musical chimes echo through the house.
Nora opened the door, gasping in consternation when she saw who stood there. “Paul!”
“Yes, it's me.” He stepped forward and pushed the door wide, before she could recover from her surprise. He stepped inside and closed it behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I think it's time we got to know each other, don't you, Mother?”
She flinched and her face paled, making him feel like a heel. She ran a nervous hand along her perfectly coifed brown hair. He noticed some gray in it, and creases in her forehead suggested she'd had a lifetime of worry.
After a long moment she nodded and said quietly, “Perhaps you're right. Come on into the kitchen.” Her cultivated voice held a note of strain. Turning, she led the way across thick, beige carpet to the sparkling yellow and white kitchen. She busied herself pouring two cups of coffee from the coffeemaker on the white counter.
