by B. J Daniels
She was taken aback by his abruptness, as well as his complete lack of interest regarding his father’s death. “Do you have any questions?” she asked almost tentatively, still standing outside with the door open. She reminded herself that he had probably let out any emotion he’d had about the news after Mercy’s call. And it had been thirty years since his father had disappeared.
She quickly did the math. Lionel, the oldest, would have been in his early thirties when his father died. His sister Angeline would have been a few years younger than Lionel, and Mercy would have been in her midtwenties. Not children by any means.
That, she realized, meant Stacy had been the age of Marvin’s offspring while Marvin had been the age Lionel was now.
A woman appeared from the shadows deep within the house, her wheelchair squeaking as she rolled into view. “Is this her?” asked a faint, hoarse voice.
Lionel didn’t bother to turn. “I’m handling this, Angeline.”
Hitch blinked as the woman wheeled herself into a shaft of light behind him. Her hair was black with a streak of white like a cartoon vamp. She was thin to the point of emaciation and, from the pallor of her skin, not in good health.
“My sister is ill,” Lionel said.
“I’m not ill,” Angeline snapped. “I’m dying. But I’m not dead yet.” The woman turned her narrowed eyes on Hitch. “So, what are you going to do about my father’s death?” she demanded, her dark gaze seeming to pin Hitch to the floor.
“Cold-case homicide detective Waco Johnson is handling the investigation,” Hitch told the two of them. “I’m sure he’ll be contacting you.”
“Murder?” Angeline croaked and then erupted in a coughing bout.
“The medical examiner just said that a cold-case homicide detective would be contacting us, Angeline. So, of course it was murder.” Lionel looked past Hitch to the street. A buzzing sound filled the air, growing louder and louder.
Hitch turned to see a dark-clad figure come roaring up on a motorcycle and park behind the state SUV where she’d left it. As the rider removed his helmet, she saw blond hair that dropped to the man’s shoulders. He looked up the hillside toward the gaping front door and Hitch standing there. His smile was filled not with merriment but with spite.
When she turned back, Lionel’s face was pinched in anger. “Thank you for letting us know, Miss...”
“Roberts,” she said in the same clipped tone he’d used with her.
“Is that Trevor?” Angeline asked. “Is Mercy with him?” She didn’t sound as if either’s arrival was welcome.
Lionel started to close the door in Hitch’s face. As he moved, he said over his shoulder, “Just Trevor, and I’m in no mood to deal with him right now.”
The door slammed.
Hitch turned to look down at the road. Mercy’s boyfriend? Mercy was midfifties, but the man standing by the motorcycle appeared younger—at least from this distance. As she descended the steps, she could feel his gaze on her. It wasn’t until she reached his level that she saw that Trevor was quite a bit younger than Mercy. Hitch would guess a good ten years.
Trevor gave her an insolent look as he flipped his long hair back. “You the undertaker?” he asked with a smirk.
“State medical examiner.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“I’m an investigator as well as a coroner.”
His eyes widened a little. “So you cut up people? Cool.”
Yes, cool. “I suppose you heard about Marvin Hanover,” she said, wondering if anyone would mourn the man’s death.
“Marv?” He shrugged. “Never met him. Mercy said someone snuffed him, but from what I’ve heard about him, he probably deserved it.” His eyes gleamed. “Is it true that now they’re going to be rich again?”
“I wouldn’t know about that.” She glanced back at the house. “They seem to be doing all right.”
Trevor laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. The house is about all they have left. Pretty soon they won’t even have furniture to sit on, but they still act like they’re better than the rest of us.” He started to turn toward the house when Lionel called down from the porch to say that Mercy wasn’t there and closed the door again.
Trevor hesitated. “I had some news for them, but if they’re not interested...” He grinned. “It will be nice to see Lionel eat crow.” He laughed and swung a leg over his bike before starting the noisy motor and taking off.
To see Lionel eat crow? Hitch had no idea what he meant by that and, at the moment, didn’t care.
Once in her SUV, she headed back to Bozeman. On the way, she’d called Waco to fill him in. Her job was done and yet she felt the pull of the case. Left with so many questions, she itched to find the answers. She likely had some time before being called in on another case and wished there was some way she could help with this one. Waco had his hands full and the DCI part of the investigation was pretty much over until he turned up more evidence—and found Stacy in the hope of getting to the truth.
Her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number or the name. Did she know someone named Jane Frazer?
She picked up with a simple “Hello?”
“Henrietta Roberts?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Jane Frazer. I thought you might be contacting me.”
“I’m sorry,” Hitch said. “What is this in regard to?”
“The death of my father, Marvin Hanover.”
“Your father? I wasn’t aware that—”
“That he had another daughter?” Jane let out a bitter snicker. “It would be just like Mercy and Angeline to completely forget me, but I would have thought Lionel might mention my name.
“I’m the product of an affair Marvin had with my mother. When my mother was killed in a hit and run, he moved me into his home. I spent time with the three of them. I knew there was no love lost for me, but it would have been nice if they’d thought to let me know about our father.”
“I’m sure they’re probably not thinking clearly,” Hitch said, wondering why she was covering for them. “This has to have come as a shock to all of you.”
Jane laughed. “You’ve met them. Did they appear any more shocked than I am? Nor am I surprised someone killed Marvin.”
Hitch noticed that Jane hadn’t immediately pointed a finger at Stacy Cardwell.
“Marvin and my mother were engaged when she died. Who knows if my mother would have actually gone through with a wedding? My father...well, he was a difficult man. But he had his...allure when it came to women, if you know what I mean.”
Hitch thought she did. “Was this after Marvin’s first wife died?”
“Only months after her tragic accident,” Jane chortled cynically. “For years I was convinced that Marvin had killed his first wife as well as my mother. I still wouldn’t be surprised. I expected him to kill his third wife. So I was shocked to hear that someone had killed him instead.”
Hitch was trying to put all this information together, but Jane Frazer had added a whole new dimension to the family tree. “I would love to sit down and talk with you. From your area code, you live in Idaho?”
“Not far from the Montana border. If you want to know about Marvin and that family of his, then I’m your girl,” Jane said.
Hitch knew she couldn’t walk away. Not yet. “When would be a good time?”
* * *
MERCY HADN’T WANTED to believe Ella Cardwell, but she did after their talk in the coffee shop. The daughter didn’t know where her mother was. She also didn’t know anything about the money.
Her cell phone rang. She saw that it was Trevor and picked up.
“I have something you might want to see,” he told her.
Since he was her boyfriend, and also her drug source, she brightened. “I’m on my way to my apartment. Am I going to like it?”
“See you in a few.” He disconnected.
Fifteen minutes later she heard his motorcycle pull up out front. As he came in the door, he glanced over his shoulder as if afraid he’d been followed. Whatever he had must be good.
Mercy couldn’t help her excitement. “So?” she said, holding out her hand.
He reached into his pocket and laid three photographs on her open palm.
She stared at them, trying not to be disappointed. “I thought... What are these?”
“I broke into Stacy Cardwell’s cabin. I didn’t find any money, but I found these in some photo albums hidden in a space in the wall behind the closet.”
She glanced at the snapshots, still unimpressed. All she’d really heard was that Trevor hadn’t found any money. Nor had he brought drugs.
“I think it might be a clue,” he said excitedly. “I was going to show them to your family, but they weren’t interested in seeing me. Their loss.”
Mercy looked more closely at the photos. They were old, the clothing out of style, the shots not even that well composed. But she did recognize the much younger Stacy.
“How are these helpful?” she asked him.
“I don’t know.” She heard his disappointment. “I thought you might have some idea. They have to be important, right? Why else would she hide them?”
Mercy looked again at the photos. She didn’t want to tell him, but breaking into Stacy’s cabin had been a bonehead idea. Worse was thinking that these old photos were important. The least he could have done was taken something of value.
“I’ll have to give this some thought,” Mercy said, dropping the snapshots on the coffee table. “You don’t have anything to smoke on you, do you?”
Trevor looked crestfallen for a moment. “I have a little weed.”
She brightened, the photos forgotten as she snuggled up against him. She hoped her brother wouldn’t hear about what Trevor had done. Lionel had enough problems with her young boyfriend.
Chapter Eight
Marshal Hud Savage swore as he watched his wife rub the side of her thigh she’d landed on. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again after she finished telling him everything that had happened.
They were sitting on the porch swing in front of Stacy’s cabin. Inside, several crime-scene techs were searching for evidence that could be used to locate the person who’d not only ransacked the place, but also knocked Dana down when he’d escaped.
“I’m fine.” She sounded more embarrassed than hurt. He could be glad of that. “I’ll be black-and-blue tomorrow, but fortunately, nothing was broken.”
Hud shook his head. “Can you describe the man?”
“There wasn’t time to get a good look at him. He was wearing a hoodie. I only got a glimpse of his face. Maybe forties. Brown eyes. Long blond hair. He smelled of exhaust fumes.”
Hud chuckled. She made a better witness than most detectives he’d come across.
“Oh, and there was something jingling in his pocket when he moved,” Dana said. “He was just under six feet, slimly built. And he was wearing boots. I remember the sound they made on the wood floor. Biker boots, because after he left, I heard a motorcycle start up behind the cabin. That would explain the exhaust fumes I smelled on him.”
Hud couldn’t help but smile at his wife. “Is that all?”
“I think so. No, he also was wearing gloves.”
So that meant no fingerprints. “You have no idea what he was looking for in Stacy’s cabin?” The whole place had been vandalized. Full drawers dumped on the floor, containers pulled from the closet added to the pile.
“That’s what’s odd. If he hadn’t taken the photos, I’d think he was there to steal something of value,” Dana said. They’d discovered several old photo albums on the floor. Empty spaces on a few of the pages indicated that some of the photos were missing.
“I’ve never seen those photo albums before,” Dana said. “I can’t imagine the young man broke in to take photographs. Can you?”
He couldn’t.
“Is it likely this has something to do with why that homicide detective is so anxious to talk to Stacy about her ex-husband’s death?”
Hud wished he knew. Stacy was missing. Someone had ransacked her cabin. The intruder had knocked Dana down as he’d escaped. What bothered him most was how bad things might get before this was over.
“What do you know about this former husband of hers? Marvin Hanover?”
“Nothing, really. I never met him. He was a lot older than Stacy. She’d been married a couple of times by then. She was living in Bozeman at the time, I think. Mother and I hardly ever heard from her back then. I never really knew who she’d married or divorced,” Dana said. “It wasn’t like she ever brought them to the ranch. I vaguely remember her mentioning someone named Emery. That’s it. She could have already been married maybe a couple of times by the time she married Marvin. That’s probably why she didn’t tell us about him, let alone about the marriage and annulment.”
“Dana, you need to be ready for the worst. You know Stacy. She could have killed the man. She could have known about the body that had been thrown down the well on the ranch.”
Dana glared at her husband. “I refuse to believe it. Everyone knew about the remains found in our well. Disposing a body in an old well would be an obvious choice to a lot of people who might have wanted to get rid of someone.”
Hud had to laugh. “Remind me to stay away from old wells.” Rising from the swing, he said, “You think you can walk back to the house?”
She rose, wincing but clearly trying to hide it. “Stop treating me like an old woman.” Stepping past him, she started down the mountain path.
Hud followed. In his years of law enforcement, if he’d learned anything, it was that most people were capable of murder. Some people more than others, Stacy being one of those people. When backed into a corner, people did whatever they had to do to survive. Before she’d had Ella, Stacy had proved over the years that she was a survivor—even if it meant breaking the law.
“You really should have told me the minute this homicide detective called,” he said to his wife’s back as they descended the mountain. “Now Ella’s gone looking for her?” He groaned. “What am I going to do with the women in this family?”
Dana stopped and turned to look at him. He saw the fear and worry in her expression. Family meant everything to her. He put his arms around her and pulled her close.
“Do what you always do,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Protect us, Hudson Savage. Don’t put a BOLO out on her. Not yet, please.”
He wanted to argue but instead he kissed the top of her head, holding her tighter. He didn’t know what he would do without Dana. She was his life. He hated to tell her that the cold-case homicide detective had probably already issued a BOLO for Stacy. If he hadn’t, he would soon.
“Ella was asking me about Stacy’s past,” his wife said as she stepped out of his arms and they walked together the rest of the way to the house. “I didn’t know what to tell her because I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to know.”
Stacy had attracted trouble much of her life. Some of it she’d brought to the ranch. It appeared she had again. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Stacy will turn up.” He just hoped it would be alive and not under arrest.
In the meantime, he had to find out everything he could about Stacy’s past and Marvin Hanover and his murder.
* * *
WACO COULDN’T WAIT to hear what had been discovered in the bottom of the well. “What did they find?” he asked the DCI agent at the other end of the phone line. He’d worked with Bradley before and knew he was thorough.
But right now, he also had something else on his mind. Ella Cardwell. He’d followed her to the grocery store and circled the block. He’d almost circled the block for a third time when the vehi
cle in front of him stalled. Ella certainly seemed to be taking her time at the store, which was either a ruse or she was headed back to the ranch with a pickup full of groceries and no longer in search of her mother.
“It’s a key,” Bradley said.
“A key?” Waco echoed with disappointment. “A car key, safe-deposit key...?”
“Larger than a normal key. Odd shape. Definitely not a key to a car or house. Of course, we have no idea how long it’s been down there or if it even belonged to the deceased. But from the look of it, the key’s been down there for years.”
“I’m going to want to see it,” Waco said as another call came in. “Can you get it to me at General Delivery in Big Sky?” he asked before disconnecting.
“I just finished notifying the rest of Marvin’s family,” Hitch told him.
He listened as she described her reception at the Hanover house, her impressions of Lionel and Angeline, as well as Mercy’s boyfriend, Trevor.
“The surprise was another daughter by another mother,” Hitch told him. “Jane Frazer. I’m on my way to talk to her.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help on this one,” Waco said as the man in the car in front of him finally got the vehicle running again.
“I’ll be off this case as soon as I talk to Jane.”
“Just don’t stick your neck out too far. I wouldn’t want you on the wrong side of your soon-to-be relatives before you even get to the altar. Or worse.”
“There is one thing Jane told me on the phone that might interest you,” Hitch said. “Her mother was killed when she was young. Jane ended up living with Marvin and his other children. None of them mentioned her to me.”
“Interesting.”
“That’s not the interesting part. Marvin’s wife and fiancée died in accidents. I just looked it up on my phone. Wife number one fell down the stairs, broke her neck. Almost-wife number two, Jane’s mother, was killed in a hit and run.”
Waco let out a low whistle.
“So it is rather amazing that Stacy Cardwell Hanover is still alive.”