Hashtag Murder

by Vreni Fox

  “Okay, let’s just see what else you have.”

  “What do you think about this deconstructed cake?”

  I looked at the picture Sabine was showing me.

  “That just looks like someone served a piece of cake to a toddler, they mashed it up with a fork, and didn’t eat any of it.”

  “Yes, that’s the point,” Sabine looked at me like I was the one who was insane. “This configuration forces the guest to confront the very nature of cake.”

  Chapter Twenty

  By the time I got Sabine out the door, it was beginning to look like this wedding cake could somehow turn into an even bigger headache than the murder investigation. How that was possible, I had no idea, but I was seriously considering asking Pudding to help me with some spell of protection that prevented Sabine from being able to enter my shop again.

  I sighed and stretched. Considering that this was supposed to be my day off, I was completely exhausted.

  Somehow, all I had accomplished was going from -- once again -- having no real evidence that anyone was a suspect in the murder to suspecting nearly half the population of Drachenfels. A murderer walked among us and I was getting to know way more than I ever wanted to know about my neighbors’ secrets.

  I headed into the kitchen to prepare myself another plate of cheese and preserves. I hadn’t eaten yet and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to cook anything. I was just dabbing a bit of tomato relish on my cheddar when the door jingled again.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I stormed into the dining room ready to throw whoever it was out. No one was about to get between me and my lunch.

  “Oh,” my expression softened. “Horst. Come on it. You want to have some cheese and crackers with me? I was just fixing myself a plate.”

  “Actually that sounds great.”

  Horst seemed like he was in a good mood, which I interpreted as a positive sign for myself. I filled up a bigger platter with food, figuring that too much snack was always better than not enough, and added a few pieces of fruit to make it look nicer.

  “Wow,” Horst marvelled at my ad hoc creation. “That’s quite a spread. You get those preserves from Ingrid?” He noticed the basket I still kept them in. “Or you got a gift? It’s not your birthday; that’s not until March.”

  “You remembered,” I felt my cheeks burn with pleasure and mild embarrassment.

  “Oh,” now it was Horst’s turn to be bashful. “I’m good at remembering details. Part of being a cop and all.”

  “Right,” I nodded. “But no, it’s not a gift. I just stopped by to chat and I couldn’t walk out empty handed.”

  “So you picked up a gift basket?”

  “It’s complicated.” I didn’t want to tell him that I had been playing private eye. Besides, it wasn’t that weird to buy yourself a gift basket of delicacies. Everyone deserved to treat themselves once in a while.

  “So what’s the news?” I asked, guessing that he wasn’t just stopping by to say hi.

  Horst finished chewing and swallowed. “Well,” he started, “it’s not bad. Turns out you were right; that Moritz Mahler does do some kind of old fashioned photography in addition to his internet stuff. I googled him and he once had a show at a gallery several years ago. So he would have access to cyanide. They don’t use it much for print photography these days, but you can still buy it easily on the internet without any kind of certification or license or anything.”

  Jackpot.

  “Really,” my face brightened. “So how are you going to find out if he made any purchases like that?”

  “I need a warrant for his computer,” Horst answered, grabbing a bit of gouda with honey.

  “A warrant,” the wheels in my mind were turning. If Horst got a warrant to search Moritz’s computer, he would surely find all those creepy pictures of Mandy! Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to tell him that I knew about the pictures and he needed to see them.

  “A warrant,” Horst nodded. “I need to get one from the court in Munich. Only problem is, warrants aren’t easy to get. They don’t just let you invade someone’s privacy on a hunch. Think of how embarrassed most people would be if the police could just come search their private computers whenever they felt like it.”

  I nodded. Yes, I would definitely be embarrassed if the police saw that I had stored hundreds -- if not thousands -- of pictures I took of my employer slash ex sleeping in various states of undress.

  “So how do we get one?” I asked.

  “We need to make a good case that we have more than just a hunch,” Horst replied, still snacking away. We need to convince Munich that there is some type of concrete evidence we have connecting Moritz Mahler to the murder of Chantal Nussbaum.”

  “Do we have that?”

  “Not really.”

  “How can we get that?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. What if he didn’t do it? We’re not going to find concrete evidence that he committed a murder if he didn’t actually commit a murder.”

  I twisted the ends of my apron in frustration. I knew that there was more evidence in that room, but how could I get Horst to see it?

  “But can’t we just try?”

  “That’s not the way policing works, Hildi. We can’t just go down to Munich, ask for an illegal warrant, and hope that whoever is working that day will be cool and just grant us one. If I try to break the rules and ask for a warrant with no evidence, I’ll get in serious trouble. I’ll definitely get removed entirely from this investigation. If they find out about our relationship, I could lose my job. And trust me, you don’t want to have to deal with these guys from Munich sniffing around here.”

  Our relationship? So we did have a relationship. I wanted to know more about what the nature of that relationship was, but it was neither the time nor the place to have that discussion.

  “So what do we do?”

  “At this point?” Horst leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “We just have to keep collecting evidence until we hit the jackpot and get something solid. So… any more leads on your end?”

  “Actually, yes,” I figured that I might as well tell him everything. “Have you checked out the Mayor’s groom, Viktor Vega?”

  “Vega? No. What would make you think he’s involved?”

  “Well he came in here and he visited Cora too. He told us both that he was glad that Mandy Unterwegs was dead because he couldn’t be photographed for his job. I don’t know what his job entails and I know that’s not really a great piece of evidence, but I thought maybe you would want to just check him out.”

  “Hmm,” Horst took out his notebook and jotted down a few notes. “You’re right, that is weird. I can do a background check on him at the station at least. Who goes around telling strangers that they’re glad that a young woman -- your wife’s relative, at that -- was murdered?”

  “Actually,” I remembered, “since you brought it up, apparently a lot of people go around saying that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Detlef Mauer was in here too. He actually got himself a big piece of cake, which he told me was in celebration of Mandy’s death.”

  “What?” Horst was incredulous. “The guy who fixes stuff at the Hotel? That guy eats cake? I never would have guessed.”

  “He’s never been in here before. As far as I know, this was the first piece of cake he’s ever enjoyed in his entire life. Anyhow, he came in here and told me that Mandy led him on and then accused him of assaulting her. She threatened to go to the police if he didn’t pay up.”

  Horst whistled through his teeth. “You think he did it?”

  “Do I think he murdered Mandy? I don’t know. Maybe? He seems kind of unstable.”

  “No, I meant do you think he actually assaulted her?”

  “Hmm,” I considered the question. “Honestly, no. It just seemed a little too convenient to me that he happened to assault her while her other boyfriend was photographing them, then she immediately had a plan for
Detlef to pay her off which involved taking him to the bank and having him drain his entire savings account.”

  “Christ,” Horst groaned. “This girl had a lot of enemies, and I can see why. That’s like a professional grifter level scam.”

  “Well, she kind of was a professional grifter.”

  It occurred to me that Drachenfels probably wasn’t the only small town full of people who wanted Mandy Unterwegs dead.

  “Alright,” Horst agreed. “I’ll put Mauer on the list. Anyone else?”

  “Yes. Sabine Natter came in here, threatened to poison the entire town, and then let me know that she’s feeding us all boiled sheeps’ heads for the Mayor’s wedding.”

  “Gross. Was she serious?”

  “About the poison or the sheep heads?”

  Horst laughed.

  “She already has the sheep heads on order from Iceland. Vega’s footing the bill.”

  “I wonder if there’s any kind of law against that. I have a duty to protect my people.”

  “She says it’s going to be the event of the century.”

  “Sounds like it. I’ll make sure to work up a big appetite solving that case.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for stopping by. It was good to see you, Horst.”

  Horst gave me an awkward hug and left to go do whatever it was that he spent his afternoons doing.

  He wasn’t gone for ten minutes before someone else was tapping on my window. I was getting more visitors on my day off than I got when I was open lately.

  “You busy?” My neighbor Mitzy entered with her familiar Rogue. “Was that Officer Hottie I just saw leaving? You two having a little lunch date?” she asked, indicating the empty platter in front of me.

  “It wasn’t a date, Mitzi. We were working on the investigation.”

  “Well that’s nice that he still wants to get romantic with you even while he is investigating you for murder.”

  “It wasn’t romantic.”

  “You sound like a teenager with a crush.”

  I felt like a teenager with a crush.

  “Can I get you something to eat? I have a cold leftover strata? It has sausage and fennel and it’s really good.”

  “I can’t say no to that.”

  I served Mitzi a big chunk and got a plate of sausages for Rogue. They tucked into their meals with an enthusiasm that made me proud to be a baker.

  “You make any progress on this case?” Mitzi asked me, talking with her mouth full.

  “Well, I have learned that half of the people living in Drachenfels are potential murderers and it’s really, really hard to bust someone who is an actual murderer. So, in short, not really. Oh, and I learned that we’re all going to be joining the world of culinary adventurers at the Mayor’s wedding.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Mitzi groaned and rolled her eyes. “Why can’t we just have schnitzel and Lammhaxe like normal people?”

  “Because we aren’t normal people. I’m serving a deconstructed wheel of Parmigiana for dessert!”

  “You’re right,” Mitzi nodded, “I don’t want to know anything about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By the time Mitzi left it was still afternoon but I felt like I had been awake for at least twenty hours. I tidied up my dining room and fixed myself a cup of coffee to perk up. I added some almond syrup and a shot of whipped cream too, because I figured that I could use the sugar.

  I knew what I had to do. Like Horst said, no hard evidence, no warrant, no arrest. I had to get back into Moritz’s room and get on his computer. I needed to somehow get those photos out, check Moritz’s online transactions, and see what else was on there. Otherwise I couldn’t see any way that this investigation was going to move forward.

  Back into the van I went. I drove myself up the mountains slender, winding roads through one way tunnels and around sharp blind turns until I found myself back in the parking lot of the beautiful and luxurious Drachenfels Hotel and Spa.

  There was Eno Saputra’s classic Mercedes Roadster and there was Sabine Natter’s shining black luxury sedan. I wished that I had paid more attention to my schooling so that I could cast an invisibility spell on myself to avoid her alone, but it was too late for me to learn now.

  I parked by the laundry vans again and entered a side entrance this time, avoiding hot spots like the reception area, restaurant, and pool.

  My earlier success had made me bold. The maids had moved on to an entirely different wing of the Hotel. I crept along the hallway until, once again, they left their giant key ring on their cart while they were inside one of the rooms.

  I quietly snatched the keys and this time skipped the part where I made a huge mess to distract them. Keys in hand, I quickly traversed the entire wing of the Hotel. I made my way across to the area with all of the fanciest suites and down to the room where Moritz Bauer was staying.

  I entered the hallway, fully prepared to just let myself right in to his room again when I ran in to…

  The poor maids, still pushing a carpet cleaner around the hallway rug.

  One of the maids took one look at me, eyed the giant key ring in my hand, and asked “Can I help you Madame?” never taking her eyes off the keys.

  “Help me?” I stumbled, searching for an explanation. “Um. Yes. I was just looking for Mister Saputra. I found these keys and I wanted to return them.”

  “You found the keys?” the maid repeated, her voice deadpan.

  “Yes, I found them. Behind a plant. You see, I was here discussing the Mayor’s wedding with Ms. Natter and I found these keys behind a plant. They seem very important. I would like to return them immediately.”

  “I can take them back to Mister Saputra.”

  “Oh, could you? Thank you so much. That would be such a great help. Because I am very busy. Planning the wedding, of course. It looks like you are busy too.”

  I cringed. I was nervous and my mouth just kept running. I had better shut up before I gave myself up.

  “Anyhow here are the keys. That I found. Behind a plant. Thank you!”

  I hurried myself back out of the Hotel before I managed to make anything worse. I made a mental note to somehow repay the maids for the trouble I had caused; the carpet smelled even more like stinky mop water than it had in the morning when I first spilled it.

  I got back into my van and sped away before anyone else spotted me at the Hotel again.

  Rats. That was a bust. There was no way that I could try to break into Moritz’s room again after what the maids had just seen. I was already afraid that they would tell someone about running in to me. I had no reason to be at the Hotel and, in fact, my presence would have been suspicious.

  “What am I going to do now?” I asked Pudding, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. “I really need to see inside of that room again.”

  You can’t go back there, he answered, saying what I was already thinking. You’re going to get arrested. If you get caught breaking in to that room, it won’t matter how much that cop likes you. You’re going to jail.

  “I know,” I groaned, slumping into my chair. “I have to come up with another plan. Or else I’ll be going to jail either way.”

  Do you know anyone at the Hotel who could let you in?

  “Not really. I mean, I know people who have access but I wouldn’t really describe any of them as my bosom buddies.”

  I guess it’s too late to become best friends with one of those maids.

  “I’m pretty sure the maids want to kill me at this point. Or at least they would if they knew what I did.”

  We both sat and thought for several minutes. We were stuck.

  “I think I’ve got it,” I finally said, unsure of myself.

  Well?

  “I think we’ve got to try magic again. My mother’s orbuculum.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re failing at enchantment, you’re failing at conjuration, and now you want to try
your hand at failing at divination?

  “Thanks again Pudding. But I don’t see any other choice we have. We’ll just have to give it a try and see if the ball will show us what we need to know.”

  At least the ball can’t hurt anyone.

  “We’ll just follow the instructions.”

  You’re the worst witch in Bavaria.

  “And you’re the rudest cat.”

  Can we please just ask Uncle Conrad for help?

  “No, we can’t. You know how he gets. Plus, I don’t even know where he is. I haven’t seen him in days. Now, can we get started or do you want to continue berating me for a while?”

  I didn’t even know where my mother’s crystal ball was, which I felt bad about since it was one of her prized possessions. Her orbuculum had been handed down between the women in her family for generations, and she no doubt once believed that I’d treasure it just like she had.

  Unfortunately, much like her skill and talent, the crystal ball had fallen by the wayside with me.

  After approximately an hour and a half of searching, we were able to find the ball in its teak box in my attic. I brought it down to my bedroom and took a look at it, carefully removing it from the velvet pillow upon which it rested. I didn’t ever use the ball, but I was very careful not to break it.

  “Okay,” I set the ball and the dusty old book on my bedspread and crossed my legs. “Let’s do this.”

  I opened to the page on seeing the future. I didn’t need to see the future. I needed to see the present. I kept turning through the book until I found a chant that would help me to see my enemy. Was Moritz Mahler my enemy? I didn’t quite know. Maybe. It seemed like the closest spell to what I needed, though, so I gave that a shot.

  I darkened the room and lit some sage candles for protection and lavender so that I could relax enough to complete the spell. Any kind of tension tended to inhibit my magic, so I took every step that I could take to make things work.