Michelle delivered the iced tea, along with the can of cat treats. “Here, Mother.”
“But I’m wearing slacks.”
“I know, but those are linen, aren’t they?” Michelle waited until Delores nodded. “It’s the same problem, Mother. If Moishe catches a thread in those slacks, he’ll damage them.”
Delores glanced down at her slacks. “Oh, dear. If I’d thought of that, I would have come prepared.” She turned to Hannah. “Do you have a bath sheet I can use for my lap, dear?”
“Of course.” Hannah got up to find the beautiful new bath sheet her mother had given her after a trip to the mall. Since she hadn’t used it yet, she pulled off the tag on her way back to the living room, and stuffed the evidence of non-use into her pocket. “Here you go, Mother,” she said when she reentered the living room.
“Thank you, dear.” Delores took the towel and spread it out so that it draped over her legs. “What a pretty towel! Where did you get it?”
“From you,” Hannah couldn’t resist saying.
“From me?”
“Yes. You picked it out for me at the mall the last time you were there. I think it’s beautiful, too.”
“It’s lovely,” Norman said. “I should have you choose my towels, Delores. They’re getting old and I’m not sure which color to buy.”
“Of course I will, dear,” Delores said, causing Hannah and Michelle to exchange glances. They’d thought that dear was reserved for them, but now it evidently included Norman.
The doorbell rang and Hannah tabled any questions she might have about her mother’s terms of endearment. She got up to answer it and ushered Andrea in.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Andrea said, pulling Hannah aside. “I just don’t feel like talking to Bill yet, and he’s mad at me too, and . . . well . . . it’s not very comfortable at home.”
“I’m glad to see you, Andrea,” Hannah reassured her. “Come in and I’ll get you something to drink. Then you can join us for dinner. There’s plenty.”
“Who else is coming?” Andrea asked, stepping into the living room and giving a little wave to the group that was assembled there.
“We’re waiting for Lonnie and Mike and then we’ll eat. Have a seat and I’ll get you a glass of white wine.”
“That would be wonderful,” Andrea said, sounding very relieved.
As Hannah went off to the kitchen to pour Andrea’s wine, she wondered what her sister would have said if she hadn’t invited her to dinner. She didn’t think Andrea would have gone back home and ended her stalemate with Bill. That just wasn’t in the cards quite yet. Would she have gone somewhere else, perhaps out to her high school friend Lucy Dunwright’s place in the country? Or would she have parked in the garage and stayed in her car until she was sure that Bill was in bed? It must be terrible to fight with the man you loved. And it must be doubly difficult if you were Andrea. Andrea was as stubborn as they came and she wouldn’t back down easily. And unfortunately, although Hannah knew that Bill loved Andrea to distraction, he was just as stubborn as Andrea was and he wouldn’t be the first to back down. This could go on for weeks with neither of them giving an inch. Hannah knew that she would have to do something to get them back together soon, before the wall of contention between them became a permanent barrier.
“Here you go,” Hannah said, handing the glass of Cost-Mart’s cheapest jug wine to her sister. Andrea fancied herself as a wine snob and Hannah had taken care, over the years, never to let her see the green gallon jug she kept in the bottom of her refrigerator.
“Oh, thank you, Hannah!” Andrea said after she’d taken her first sip. “I just love this wine. It has such depth and complexity.”
“Glad you like it,” Hannah said, and left it at that. She knew that if she ever told Andrea that the wine she privately called Chateau Screwtop had cost less than ten dollars a jug, Andrea would never drink it again.
Hannah had just taken a seat next to Norman on the couch when the doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it,” Michelle said, rushing to the door. When she came back to usher in two more dinner guests, Michelle was beaming and Hannah knew that was because one of the guests was Lonnie.
“Hi, Lonnie,” Hannah greeted him and then she turned to Mike. “Sit down, Mike. It’s been a long day for you.”
“Not as bad as usual,” Mike said, sitting down on the couch on the other side of Hannah. “I put in longer days than this when I was working for the department.”
“How about you, Lonnie?” Hannah asked him.
“This is my day off so I went down to the Cities with Mike,” Lonnie said, accepting the glass of iced tea that Michelle had brought for him.
“Tell us all about it after we eat,” Hannah said, getting up from her spot on the couch. “Please find places at the table and I’ll get us started with the salad.”
With Andrea and Michelle helping, the dinner was served in practically no time at all. Once they were all seated and the serving dishes were on the table, everyone helped themselves family style. There were praises for the salad, the Oodles of Noodles casserole, and the Smothered Chicken.
“Smart move with the extra chicken breasts, Hannah,” Michelle said under her breath as both Mike and Lonnie helped themselves to third helpings of chicken.
“Thanks,” Hannah said in the same quiet tone of voice. During the meal, conversation had been at a minimum. The comments that were made were either praise for the food, or requests for a tablemate to pass a serving dish for another helping. When everyone put their silverware down and wore expressions of hunger satisfaction, the three sisters cleared the table, made the coffee, and carried it to the table.
“What are these?” Norman asked when Hannah brought out a plate of cookies.
“Triple Chocolate Cookies. It’s a new recipe so you have to tell me how you like it.”
“Then I’d better take an extra so that I give it a fair test,” Delores said, and since she hadn’t yet taken a bite, Hannah knew she was reacting to the fact that the cookies were chocolate.
The taste test was a huge success. Hannah knew because no one offered an opinion until they’d eaten at least three cookies. Then the comments were all superlative and she made a mental note to add the cookies to their menu at The Cookie Jar.
Chapter Twenty
“I really can’t believe this,” Delores said, after Hannah had brought more cookies and Michelle had refilled their coffee cups.
“Believe what?” Michelle asked her.
“We haven’t had to put our feet up once tonight for a Moishe and Cuddles chase.”
“Moishe’s tired, Mother,” Hannah explained. “He walked for miles this afternoon.”
“He got out?!” Delores was clearly shocked.
“No, Mother. He exercised.” Hannah turned to Michelle. “You explain.”
“I was using Hannah’s new exercise machine right before you got here. I had it turned to the treadmill setting, and Moishe hopped on right in front of me and trotted along.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’re joking . . . right?”
“No. He really did it. I called Hannah and she came in to watch. Moishe likes walking on that treadmill. He likes it so much that he got a little perturbed at me when I shut it off.”
Mike turned to look at Hannah. “True?”
“True. I’ll use it tomorrow morning and we’ll see if he’ll get on it with me again.”
“You’re going to exercise?” Delores asked in the very same tone she would have used if she’d inquired whether her eldest daughter was truly going to the moon.
“I thought I’d give it a try for a couple of mornings to see if I like the machine,” Hannah said, being deliberately casual about it. “If Moishe walks along with me, I’ll let you know when we have our meeting tomorrow morning.” Delores nodded and Hannah turned to Mike. “Okay Mike,” she said. “Tell us what you learned in Minneapolis today.”
“Not enough to suit me,” Mike said, lookin
g disgruntled. “When Lonnie and I got to their headquarters about noon, Stella was just going on a break. We walked down the street to a little coffee shop that Stella and I like, and I showed her the flyer.”
“Did Stella recognize the picture on the flyer?” Hannah found that she was crossing her fingers for luck, just as she’d done when she was a child.
“No, at least not by name. But she promised to pass the flyer around. She did think she’d seen him before and he was a—” Mike stopped and glanced at Delores. “Stella thought he looked like a man she’d seen with a woman who was walking the streets in a notoriously crime-ridden area of Munsington Street.”
Delores laughed. “You don’t have to mince words around me. I know what a streetwalker is. It’s the oldest profession in the world and I just wrote about a streetwalker in my latest Regency romance novel. They called them opera girls or round heels back then.”
“That’s funny, Mother,” Michelle said, “Especially the round heels name.”
“It wasn’t funny if you were one. Prostitutes in Regency England didn’t have the benefit of modern medicine or antibiotics. Disease was prevalent and most opera girls lived a very short life.”
“Did Stella say the man was soliciting the woman?” Hannah asked Mike.
“Stella was pretty sure he wasn’t. She’d seen him before with a couple of other girls she’d identified as known prostitutes. She didn’t think he was a customer. She was almost positive that he was a . . .” Mike stopped and glanced at Delores again.
“A pimp?” Hannah provided the word.
“Yeah. That’s what Stella thought.”
“So Grandma Knudson might have been right!” Michelle said, laughing as she remembered what Grandma Knudson had said when Lisa told her story at the coffee shop.
“Grandma Knudson?” Delores questioned Hannah.
“That’s right. Grandma Knudson saw the picture of the dead man when Lisa was telling the story at The Cookie Jar and she said he looked like a pimp.”
Delores burst out laughing. “Leave it to Grandma Knudson to tell it like it is. That dear lady is a breath of fresh air, even if Reverend Bob doesn’t appreciate it sometimes.”
Hannah turned to Mike again. “But Stella didn’t know for sure that he was a pimp . . . right?”
“That’s right. She suspected he was, but she wasn’t sure. She told us she’d pass the flyer to the vice squad when they came back to the station.”
“We know more than we did this morning,” Hannah said, noticing that Mike still looked disappointed.
“Yes, but we don’t know anything for sure. I really thought we could wrap this up today.”
Hannah felt a bit like chiding him for being unrealistic, but perhaps that was a trait all detectives had. The desire to wrap up a case quickly might be the reason Mike was so successful and worked so tirelessly.
“How about Doctor Jones, the dentist?” Norman asked him. “Did you get a chance to talk to him?”
“No. His office was closed. I called and got a recorded message that said he only takes patients by appointment.”
“Did you make an appointment?” Delores asked.
“I left my name and cell phone number. If he calls back, I’ll make an appointment.”
“So you don’t really know much about him?” Hannah asked.
“Not really. I’m waiting for his call to find out more.”
“I know something about him from that phone message,” Norman said. “If Doctor Jones only takes patients by appointment, he’s either independently wealthy, or he’s receiving money from a secondary source. A dentist can’t support a practice if he’s only open by appointment. If your office is a storefront, you have to take walk-ins.”
“Did you meet Doctor Jones at the dental conference last year?” Delores asked Norman.
“Not that I can remember. All I know about him is that he took a seminar in tooth embellishment.”
Mike turned to Norman. “And you didn’t take that seminar?”
“No. I did embed some tooth jewelry when I worked at the clinic in Seattle, but there’s not much call for it here in Lake Eden.”
“Unless some college student asks you to play a joke on her older sister,” Michelle said, and Hannah knew she was reminding him of the removable caps with rhinestones he’d made for her.
“True,” Norman said, smiling at Hannah and then turning back to Mike. “I might have run into him at the conference. There were over eighteen hundred dentists there. But if I did, he must not have made a lasting impression on me.”
“We drove past his office,” Lonnie said. “It was really small, just a storefront.”
“That’s right,” Mike took up the story. “The plate glass window in front has heavy curtains and we couldn’t see inside. It’s in a high crime area, very close to the area where Stella thinks she saw the man on the flyer. It all fits together, especially if Jones is the dentist who put that diamond in the tooth.” Mike turned to Norman again. “You said you took the diamond to a jeweler to have it appraised?”
“Yes, and it’s worth over twenty thousand dollars according to the jewelers at the mall. I took it to three places to make sure, and the lowest appraisal they gave me was twenty thousand.”
“Could a pimp afford something like that?” Delores asked Mike.
“Depending on how many girls he has in his stable, sure he could afford it. But he probably didn’t buy it from a jeweler and he probably paid a lot less than twenty thousand for it. Chances are it’s stolen property and he bought it from a fence.”
“Is there any way you can tell if it’s stolen?” Michelle asked.
Norman shook his head. “Not according to the jewelers at the mall. I asked about that. Sometimes you can identify stones by the type of setting they’re in and this one is simply embedded in the tooth. And that means there’s no way to identify it from the setting. The only other way anyone can trace the background of a gem is if it has some distinguishing characteristic like an unusual color or cut. All three jewelers agreed that this diamond doesn’t have any distinguishing characteristics.”
“I think he probably stole it,” Delores said. “Either that or one of the girls in his . . . What did you call it, Mike?”
“Stable.”
“Yes, stable. That’s really a denigrating term, isn’t it?”
Hannah nodded. “Yes, it is, Mother. I don’t think pimps really care if their girls have low self-esteem.”
“It probably works in their favor,” Michelle said. “Otherwise, the girls might decide they could do something better with their lives and leave.”
Hannah happened to be watching Mike when Michelle made her comment. The corners of his mouth twitched in laughter, but he didn’t comment.
“They can’t leave, dear,” Delores said, addressing Michelle. “These girls depend on their pimps for their very survival.”
Michelle frowned. “Then what happens when their pimp dies? If we’re right and the dead man was a pimp, what happens to the girls in his stable?”
“They’re up for grabs,” Mike answered. “There’s always another pimp in the wings who’ll take them on.”
“But can’t they run away before that happens?”
“They could if they had somewhere to run and the money or the means to get there. But most of them don’t have that desire. They stay where they are and do what they’ve been doing all along. Most of them are so beaten down by their circumstances that they don’t even think of trying to get out.”
“That’s just sad!” Michelle said.
Mike nodded. “You’re right. It is sad. Life on the street is never easy.”
They were all silent for a moment and then Delores posed another question. “Is it possible that one of the girls in the dead man’s stable stole that diamond from a client?”
“Happens all the time,” Mike said. “The pimps encourage it as long as the girls turn over the money, or the jewelry, or whatever to them. Unfortunately, when a girl r
olls a John, the John’s usually too embarrassed to report it. That means we don’t hear about the crime and there’s nothing the authorities can do about it.”
“So the diamond could have been stolen, one way or the other,” Delores clarified.
“That’s right,” Mike agreed.
“All right then,” Delores squared her shoulders. “We have to talk to one of the girls in the dead pimp’s stable.”
“First things first,” Mike told her. “First, we have to find out if Stella was right and he was a . . .” Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone to look at the display. “It’s Stella,” he said. “I’ve got to take this.”
They all watched as Mike got up and stepped into the kitchen for privacy before he answered his cell phone. The room went quiet as they listened to his end of the conversation, but Hannah quickly realized that she could learn nothing from his one-word replies.
“Will you feel better if he was a pimp, dear?” Delores asked her.
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t, but maybe I will.” She looked at their puzzled faces and hurried to explain. “I know I shouldn’t feel better . . . morally, that is. A man is dead because of me and his character or lack of it shouldn’t change that fact.”
“But you might feel better?” Delores followed up on her earlier question.
“Maybe I would. And if I did, then that would be a fault in my character.”
Just then Mike came back into the living room, effectively taking Hannah off the hook. She didn’t want to answer any more questions from her mother about the dead man.
“He’s a pimp.” Mike confirmed it. “Stella showed the photo to Vice and a couple of them knew the dead man. They hadn’t seen him in the last couple of days and they were wondering what happened to him.”
“Do they know his name?” Hannah asked.
“Keith Branson. At least that’s what it said on his driver’s license when they pulled him over for running a red light.”
“But you have to show your birth certificate to get a driver’s license, don’t you?” Delores asked.
Blackberry Pie Murder (A Hannah Swensen Mystery) Page 21