by V. M. Burns
“Well, come on.” Dixie marched toward the door.
Stephanie whispered, “Is Aunt Dixie serious?”
I shrugged. “I guess so, but let’s stay close to her. She’s the one with the gun.”
We hurried to catch up to Dixie, who had made it to the door and was waiting for us.
We entered the restaurant and stood huddled by the door. Dixie marched past us to a wooden seat near the window. She plopped down. We followed her example.
She picked up the laminated menus and handed one to each of us. “Best greasy burgers and shakes you’ll ever eat.”
An exceptionally thin teen with jet black hair, skintight black jeans, a black T-shirt, black lipstick, and black polish on his nails came over to our table. He placed napkins and a knife down for each of us. He had tattoos on every visible surface of his skin and earlobe expanders in each ear. “What can I get you ladies?”
“They’re going to need a moment, but can you bring us three waters and an order of fried cauliflower while they look?”
He nodded and left to place the orders.
“They have burgers with peanut butter?” Stephanie frowned.
I shook my head. “I’m more concerned with the liquid nitrogen they put in the milkshakes.”
I accidentally knocked over the salt shaker, scattering salt all over the table.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Before the waiter could get back to clean our table, Dixie reached into her purse and pulled out a package of hand wipes and cleaned the surface. When she was done, she looked at our faces and burst out laughing. “You two look as though you think I’ve lost my mind.”
“I had wondered. This place doesn’t exactly seem like your style.” I stared at my friend.
She laughed. “It’s not the fanciest place in the Scenic City, but it really does have the best burgers and shakes. Trust me.”
I put the menu down. “Okay, I trust you.”
Our Goth waiter returned with the waters and fried cauliflower and stood waiting for us to order.
Dixie took a moment and glanced at us and then ordered burgers and shakes for each of us.
Orders placed, Dixie turned to me. “Okay, fill me in on what happened with Freemont, and I’ll fill you in on my conversation with Mrs. Hansen.”
We quickly told her what we’d learned. When we finished, the waiter brought our shakes.
Dixie watched our faces as we sipped.
“That’s amazing.” Stephanie’s eyes were huge saucers as she sucked the chocolate goodness of her Shock-o-matic.
I might have moaned as the cashews and Himalayan pink salt of the Cat-man-du froze my insides.
Dixie’s face broke into a huge smile. “See, I told you.” She sucked on her own shake, which included Chattanooga’s specialty, moon pies.
After a few seconds, she popped another piece of cauliflower into her mouth and then wiped her lips. “Okay, so while you guys were trying to wring a confession out of Freemont, I got a chance to talk to Mrs. Hansen.” She shook her head. “Poor thing is devastated. Robert was her only son, and she doted on him.” She halted while the waiter brought our burgers and onion rings.
She waited while we bit into our burgers. “First, I found out that Mrs. Hansen is perfectly okay with you staying in the house for as long as you want. She’s too upset to try and deal with it.”
I nodded, grateful Dixie had thought to check with Mrs. Hansen about that, although given the recent death toll in the subdivision, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay, even if the police didn’t arrest me for the murders.
“Did she know of anyone who would want to kill him?” Stephanie asked.
She shook her head. “No. She was so gaga over her son, she can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him.” Dixie bit into her hamburger.
“Did she know about his...extracurricular activities?” I asked.
Dixie shook her head. “No. She thinks he was a legitimate businessman. However, she did say something curious.” Dixie wiped her mouth and started digging in her purse. “She hadn’t known her son was back in the country, but she did say a couple of days ago, she got an envelope with a business card with the East Brainerd post office’s address on it and a key.” She pulled out a small key and handed it to me.
Stephanie leaned close and stared at the key as though she expected it to suddenly take wings and fly. It was a regulation key. Nothing special.
“Why didn’t she go to the post office and see what was in the box?” Stephanie asked.
“The poor woman’s a basket case. She’s just buried her son. She wasn’t in any state to drive on the interstate to the East Brainerd post office. I told her we’d be happy to go and get whatever was in there and send it to her.”
I stared at my friend. “We? Are you kidding? Red is going to be furious when he finds out you have this and didn’t tell him.”
Dixie shrugged. “Okay, do you want to tell him?”
I hesitated. “Noooo.”
“I didn’t think so.” Dixie finished her burger. “I figured we’d pick up the package and then we’d tell him about it. I mean, it could be nothing.”
“Right, it could be a notice saying he won a million dollars from one of those national magazines.” Stephanie smiled. “It’s hardly likely to be a signed confession from the murderer.”
Our waiter returned with our bills.
Dixie snatched them up and hopped up. “I’ll go to the counter and take care of this while you two decide what you want to do.”
Stephanie and I sat for several seconds, staring at the key.
“You know, Aunt Dixie’s right. It could be nothing.”
I shook my head. “You’re probably right, but I don’t want to be the one to tell Red about it.”
Chapter 22
Despite the fact that I felt like a criminal, the excursion to the post office was uneventful. We all walked in together, although I was tempted to stay in the car with the motor running in case we needed to make a quick getaway.
Robert Hansen had one of the larger post office boxes, and it was stuffed with everything from promotional circulars to letters declaring he was preapproved for large amounts of credit. Fortunately, I always carried a big purse. We dumped the contents of the post office box into my purse and hurried back to the car.
Dixie drove under the speed limit, which was so disconcerting, I found myself constantly checking the rearview mirror to see if there was a patrol car tailing us.
When we got home, we hurried inside. Stephanie let the dogs out, and I dumped the contents of my purse onto the dining room table. I sorted through the items and set aside the items that belonged to me—wallet, credit cards, cell phone, toiletries, and snacks.
Dixie and Stephanie watched me sort through the items.
“Mom, what’s with all of the artificial sweetener?”
“This is my ‘in case of emergency’ supply.” I straightened the packets and returned them to my purse. “Every restaurant doesn’t carry the blue packets. I don’t like the pink, yellow, or green packets. So I keep some of the blue ones in my purse.” I didn’t need to look at her to know she was smirking.
Dixie took the newspaper circulars and tossed them in the trash. I gasped. Something about tossing someone else’s mail seemed disrespectful, but she merely shrugged. “I’m pretty sure Robert Hansen isn’t going to need these offers or preapproved credit cards.”
What was left after the purge was mostly bills. There was one envelope, on which the address was handwritten; it stood out from the others because it was addressed to Mrs. Hansen, rather than Robert. I stared at the envelope for a long time. “What do you think we should do?”
Dixie leaned over my shoulder. “I think we should open it.”
I turned to Stephanie. She shook her head. “I think we should give it to Mrs. Hansen. I
t belonged to her son, and by giving you the key, she gave you permission to pick up her mail. She didn’t give you explicit permission to open or read her mail.”
Dixie stuck out her tongue. “Party pooper.”
Stephanie shrugged. “Tampering with mail is a federal offense. Not even the TBI should open this letter without a warrant.”
I sighed. “I agree. We need to get these items to Mrs. Hansen.” I stacked the envelopes together. When I looked up, I noticed that Stephanie was scowling at a plastic bag.
“What’s this?” She held up the bag.
I stared at the plastic bag. “Oh, I know what that is.”
“What?” Dixie frowned.
“It’s what the golden retriever had swallowed. The vet from the emergency clinic gave it to me after the surgery.”
“Eww...” Dixie frowned and shivered.
Stephanie’s frown was more of the inquisitive type than the disgusting one on Dixie’s face.
She stared so long that I wondered what was so fascinating. “What is it?”
“It looks like a flash drive.” She glanced from Dixie to me. “And the bigger question is, what’s on it?”
I looked at Dixie. She was staring at a piece of paper that had fallen out of my bag when I dumped the contents on the table. Something about the look on her face made me ask, “What’s wrong?”
Dixie held up the paper. It was one of the programs from the funeral. “Did you look at this?”
I shook my head. “Frankly, no. I just shoved it in my purse when we got to the funeral. Why?” I went around the table and stood over her shoulder so I could see what she saw. I stared at the paper. “How? Who?”
She looked at me. “According to the program, that’s Robert Hansen.”
I stared from Dixie to the program. “That can’t be Robert Hansen. That’s not the man who was buried in the woods.”
“I know.”
“That’s the man who came by claiming to be the owner of the golden.”
Dixie nodded. “I know.”
Our gazes locked.
I pointed to the program. “If that’s Robert Hansen, and he was here yesterday pretending to be someone else, then whose funeral did we just attend?”
Dixie shook her head. “I have no idea.”
Chapter 23
“I think we need to open the letter.” Dixie reached for the letter, but I moved it out of reach.
Something was stirring in my head. Like tennis shoes in a dryer, ideas were tumbling around whacking against the side of my brain. “It makes sense. It all makes sense.”
“I’m glad it makes sense to somebody.” Dixie folded her arms and leaned back.
Aggie went to the door that led out to the laundry room and the garage, and barked.
I turned and saw that, while the golden retriever was also at the door, his posture was completely different. Where Aggie barked, lunged, and scratched at the door, the golden stood, tail wagging. “Stephanie, can you let Aggie outside, please. That barking is working my nerves.”
Stephanie walked over and picked her up. Uncharacteristically, Aggie didn’t settle down but grew more restless. “What’s the matter, girl?” Stephanie scratched her ears.
“It’s probably just a field mouse in the garage or Rusty would be barking too.” Dixie turned her attention back to me. “Now, what is it that makes sense?”
Stephanie opened the door that led onto the back deck and put Aggie outside.
“Remember when Mrs. Hansen said ‘My son had a dog.’? Remember the dog’s name?” I waited and watched the lightbulb go on in Dixie’s head.
She smacked herself in the forehead. “Rusty.”
I nodded.
“Okay, that makes sense, but that doesn’t explain why there’s a dead man in a coffin in Stone Mountain, Georgia, who isn’t Robert Hansen.”
I paced. “Red said someone at the TBI had been watching Robert Hansen, so what if he found out and got scared.”
Dixie nodded. “And he hightailed it out of the country.”
“But he wasn’t out of the country,” Stephanie said.
“Right. He only told his mother he had to leave the country, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he faked his death to confuse the authorities.”
Dixie and Stephanie both looked skeptical.
“What’s wrong?”
Stephanie shook her head. “I can accept the fact that he wanted the authorities to believe he was dead, but he didn’t just pretend to have drowned in the ocean or something.”
“He killed someone and stole his identity.” Dixie shivered. “That’s a bit extreme.”
I paced. “I know, but it all fits. Remember what Red said?” I looked from Stephanie to Dixie. “He said Theodore Livingston had a brother, Martin. Martin came to live with Theodore and then disappeared.”
They were silent but I could tell the pieces were falling into place for them just as it had for me.
“Martin didn’t disappear, did he?” Stephanie asked.
I shook my head.
“I think Robert Hansen killed him.”
“Why?” Dixie asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he was the right size.” I paced. For whatever reason, he wanted Martin dead. “He got lucky when we found the body.”
“Lucky?” Dixie asked.
“We’d never seen him before, so we wouldn’t be able to say it wasn’t my landlord.” I paused. “He must have had a backup plan. There had to be someone else who was supposed to find the body.” I walked faster as I thought. I stopped when I remembered. “His girlfriend, Lynn. Remember his mother saying his girlfriend lived here too.”
Stephanie walked over to the golden. “What’s wrong, boy?”
Dixie nodded. “That’s right, but I don’t know anyone named Lynn. Do you?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure Red will find her.” I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number.
He picked up quickly, but I didn’t bother to let him talk. Instead, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Red, I figured it out. It was Robert Hansen. He’s not dead. We need you to—”
“That’ll be enough.”
I turned.
Robert Hansen was standing in the living room. He had his arm around Stephanie’s neck and a gun pointed at her head. “Hang up now or I’ll kill her.”
I could hear Red talking, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the gun pointed at my daughter’s head. I ended the call.
“Good. Now, put the phone down on the counter and go stand by your friend.”
I followed instructions and stood by Dixie near the window. We clutched each other’s hands for support. For a brief moment, Dixie’s nearness gave me courage. I looked around for her purse, knowing she most likely had her gun with her. My eyes saw it on the counter at the other end of the kitchen.
“Please, don’t hurt my daughter.”
Robert Hansen grimaced. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to get what I came for and get out of here.”
“What did you come for?” I barely managed to squeak the words out.
He propelled Stephanie forward toward the table. Before he could reach out and take what he wanted, we heard a noise in the garage. Hansen stiffened. He grabbed Stephanie tighter and pulled her closer to his body.
She winced as he pressed the gun into her head.
With his mouth inches from her face, he whispered, “Don’t do anything stupid or you’re dead.”
The door opened, and Carol Lynn Hargrove stood just inside the laundry room. She stopped suddenly at the sight of Robert Hansen and froze for a split second.
I released a sigh. Surely he wouldn’t be able to control all of us.
For a split second, there was tension in the air that was only broken by the sound of Aggie’
s barking from the back deck as she lunged and pawed at the door.
My relief at seeing Carol Lynn vanished when she smiled.
“What took you so long?” Hansen asked.
Too late, I realized the truth. “Carol Lynn...Lynn. You’re his girlfriend?”
She proved the point by walking over to Hansen and reached up and kissed him. “My family and close friends always called me Lynn.”
“You’re involved in this whole thing with him.” I didn’t even try to hide the disgust in my voice.
She smiled. “It was a beautiful plan. Robert bought up all of the houses and vacant lots.” She leaned across the breakfast bar. “I was even able to use the association’s money to help pay for it.” She frowned. “Until that batty old fool started snooping around.”
“I thought she was involved with the association president,” Dixie said.
The counter behind us served as a bar. There were glass-fronted cabinets where I stored wineglasses. On the counter, I kept a corkscrew, ice bucket, and various alcoholic beverages. The bottom of the cabinet was fitted with a wine rack.
Carol Lynn laughed. “That fool. I just needed him in case anyone requested soil samples.”
“Enough talking. Grab the letter and the file and let’s get out of here.” Hansen pointed to the table.
“What’s so important in that letter that you risked coming back here to get it?” Dixie asked.
He smiled. “Ask your smart friend. She seems to have all the answers.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the fake credentials Freemont made for you—passport, airline tickets, and identification to help you get out of the country.”
He looked at me with respect in his eyes. “You really are smart.”
Dixie and I leaned against the counter. Shoulder to shoulder as we were, I could feel as she slowly reached for the corkscrew. I knew Dixie was tough, and she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Why send it to your mother?” I needed to keep him talking.
“If you can’t trust your mother, who can you trust?” He laughed. “Besides, this way she would know I was okay.”