by Joanne Fluke
Bill’s eyebrows shot up and he froze for a second. He took one look at her earnest face and then he began to laugh. “The lab can’t lift prints from this kind of cup. The surface is too rough.”
“I knew I never should have climbed in that Dumpster!” Hannah groaned. “How about the lipstick? Can you do something with that?”
“It’s possible, unless it’s such a popular color that half the women in Lake Eden wear it.”
“It’s not.” Hannah was very sure of herself. “Most women look awful in bright pink.”
“How would you know? I’ve never seen you wear lipstick.”
“That’s true, but Andrea bought a color like that once and it looked horrible on her. She’s got every other shade there is, so I figure that this one can’t be very popular.”
“You’ve got a point.” Bill started to smile. “Good work, Hannah.”
Hannah was pleased at the compliment, but then she started thinking about the logistics of finding the Lake Eden woman who owned that color of lipstick. “What are you going to do, Bill? Inspect every powder room in town?”
“I hope it won’t come to that. I’ll start with the cosmetic counters and see if they carry this color. Whoever she is, she had to buy it somewhere. That’s called legwork, Hannah, and I’ll need your help. You may not know much about lipstick, but you’ve got to know more than I do.”
Hannah sighed. Watching paint dry held more interest for her than cosmetic counters, and legwork didn’t sound like very much fun.
“You are going to help me, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I’m sorry I’m not more enthusiastic, but rooting around in all that garbage got me down.”
“Next time just call me and I’ll do it. I’ve got coveralls in the cruiser and I’m used to stuff like that.”
“I did call you. I even left a message, but you didn’t get back to me in time. And since Edna told me that the trash company was coming to empty the Dumpster at five, I figured that I’d better do it.”
Bill reached out to pat her on the back. “You’d make a good detective, Hannah. Your dip in the Dumpster gave us the only real clue we’ve got.”
Rhonda Scharf, her plump middle-aged body encased in a baby-blue angora sweater that might have fit her thirty pounds ago, leaned forward over the glass-topped cosmetic counter at Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy to stare at the smudge of pink lipstick on the white Styrofoam cup. Rhonda was wearing a scowl that turned down the corners of her heavily rouged lips, and her too-long, too-thick, too-black-to-be-real eyelashes fluttered in distaste. “That lipstick didn’t come from my counter. I wouldn’t be caught dead displaying a product like that!”
Bill pushed the bag closer. “Take another look, Rhonda. We need to make sure.”
“I did look.” Rhonda pushed the bag back to him. “I do all the ordering and I’ve never carried that brand or that color.”
“There’s no doubt in your mind, Rhonda?”
Rhonda shook her head, her coal-black hair swaying from side to side. The strands moved together, like they’d been dipped in glue, and Hannah suspected that Rhonda must get a massive employee’s discount on hairspray.
“See how it’s smeared?” Rhonda poked at the bag with the pointed tip of a long, manicured nail. “I don’t sell any lipstick that isn’t smudge-proof, and the lines I buy from don’t make garish shades like that.”
Hannah looked up from the color charts that Rhonda had handed her. Her grandmother had always said that you’d catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and she was about to put that old maxim to the test. “We really need your help, Rhonda. You’re Lake Eden’s only cosmetic expert.”
“Then why did you go to CostMart? I know you did, Hannah. Cheryl Coombs called to tell me.”
“Of course we went there,” Hannah acknowledged. “We checked out every cosmetic counter in town. But we saved you for last because I told Bill you’d know more about lipstick than anyone else in town. Your makeup is always so perfect.”
Rhonda preened slightly, giving Bill a sidelong glance that was definitely flirtatious. Since Rhonda had to be pushing fifty and Bill hadn’t yet celebrated his thirtieth birthday, Hannah figured the gossip her mother had told her about Rhonda and the UPS driver might not be as ridiculous as she’d thought.
“I’ll help any way I can.” Rhonda simpered a bit, her violet-colored contacts trained on Bill. “What do you want to know?”
Hannah sighed, reminding herself again about flies and honey. “If you wanted to buy a lipstick like the one on the cup…and I know you wouldn’t, having such good taste and all…but if you did, where would you go to buy it?”
“Let me think about that.” Rhonda pursed her perfectly drawn lips. “No store in town would carry that lipstick, so I’d have to look elsewhere. Not that I would, of course.”
Hannah agreed quickly. “Of course not. We’re just pretending here, trying to get a feel for where the owner of this lipstick might have gone to buy it. You’re helping Bill with a very important investigation, Rhonda, and he really appreciates it.”
“Just a minute.” Rhonda’s eyes narrowed. “Does this have anything to do with Ron LaSalle’s murder?”
Hannah kicked Bill and he took his cue from her. He leaned close and lowered his voice. “It’s confidential, Rhonda. The only reason we asked is because we knew that we could trust you.”
“I see.” Rhonda reached out to pat Bill’s hand. “If I wanted to buy this particular shade of perfectly awful lipstick, I’d just have to get it from Luanne Hanks.”
“Luanne Hanks?” Hannah was surprised. Luanne had been in Michelle’s high school class, but she’d had to drop out when she got pregnant. “I thought Luanne worked at Hal and Rose’s Cafe.”
“She does.”
“They sell lipsticks at the cafe?” Bill asked.
“No, silly boy.” Rhonda batted her unnatural lashes. “Luanne works at the cafe during the week and she sells Pretty Girl cosmetics on the weekends. I’ve seen her lugging her sample case around town.”
Bill stepped back, preparing to go. “Thanks, Rhonda. You’ve been a big help.”
“There’s one more thing, Rhonda.” Hannah put on her most serious expression. “Bill hasn’t warned you yet.”
Bill turned to stare at her with a perfectly blank face, and Hannah knew she’d have to take charge. She turned back to Rhonda and plunged ahead on her own. “It’s like this, Rhonda. Bill doesn’t want you to say anything about any of the questions he’s asked you. If Ron’s killer finds out that you helped, you could be in real danger. Isn’t that right, Bill?”
“Uh…right!” Bill was a little slow on the uptake, but Hannah figured he was still rattled by Rhonda’s attempt to flirt with him. “Mum’s the word, Rhonda. Just keep in mind that Ron’s killer has already committed the ultimate crime. He’s got nothing to lose by killing again.”
Rhonda’s face turned so pale that Hannah could see the place where she’d blended her foundation. Rhonda deserved a good scare for flirting with Bill, but Hannah didn’t want to be responsible for the damage if Rhonda fainted and crashed into the glass cosmetic counter.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Rhonda.” Hannah reached out to pat her arm and steady her at the same time. “No one overheard our conversation and we went to every cosmetic counter in town. As far as anyone knows, you just told us that you didn’t sell this type of lipstick.”
“Hannah’s right,” Bill said. “There’s no cause for alarm, Rhonda. I’ll protect your identity by keeping your name out of my notes.”
“Thank you, Bill.” A little color began to come back to Rhonda’s face. “I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. I swear it.”
Hannah was satisfied that Rhonda wouldn’t blab, but she still looked awfully pale. “When the killer’s behind bars, Bill will put in for a special citizen’s merit certificate for you. You’ve been really helpful, Rhonda.”
Bill echoed Hannah’s words and picked up the pla
stic bag. With a final goodbye and a thank-you to Rhonda, they walked out of the store and climbed into Bill’s county cruiser. They were driving back to Hannah’s shop when Bill started to chuckle.
“What is it?” Hannah turned to stare at him.
“I was just wondering how I’d put in for a special citizen’s merit certificate for Rhonda when the sheriff’s department doesn’t do things like that.”
“No problem,” Hannah assured him. “Gil Surma’s got a bunch of blank award certificates for his Boy Scouts. I’ll just ask him for one and you can fill it in with Rhonda’s name.”
“That won’t work. Sheriff Grant will never sign his name to a trumped-up award.”
“He doesn’t have to.” Hannah gave him a grin. “We’re going to solve this case, Bill. By the time you get around to giving Rhonda her certificate, you’ll be a detective and you can sign it yourself.”
Chapter Five
Hannah hung her slacks and sweater on a hanger and reached out to catch Moishe before he disappeared into the still-warm interior of the dryer. “No, you don’t. Dryers eat cats and I think you’re already on your ninth life.”
With Moishe tucked under one arm, she folded a towel one-handed and carried it out to the couch. The moment she set it down, Moishe jumped on top and started to purr.
“What’s a little cat hair between friends?” Hannah asked, reaching down to scratch him under the chin before she went back to retrieve the rest of her clothes. Five minutes later, she was dressed and ready for the mayor’s fundraiser at the community center.
“I’ve got to go, Moishe.” Hannah stopped at the couch to say goodbye to him. “I’ll turn on the TV for you. Do you want A&E, or Animal Planet?”
Moishe flicked his tail and Hannah understood. “Okay, I’ll put it on A&E. Emergency Vet is on Animal Planet tonight and you don’t like to watch that.”
She had just flicked on the television when the phone rang. Hannah exchanged a glance with Moishe. “I’d better not answer that. It’s probably Mother again.”
Hannah listened as her outgoing message played: “Hello. This is Hannah. I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll be glad to call you back. Wait for the beep.” The beep sounded and then her mother’s voice came through the speaker. “Where are you, Hannah? I’ve called six times already and you’re never home. Call me the minute you step in the door. It’s important!”
“Would you say that Mother sounds a little miffed?” Hannah grinned down at Moishe. His ears were laid back flat against his skull and he’d puffed up in anger at the sound of her mother’s voice. She smoothed down his ruffled fur and gave him another scratch. “Don’t worry, Moishe. She won’t come over here. She just replaced the last pair of pantyhose that you shredded.”
A rumble came from Moishe’s throat, a deep self-satisfied purr. He was definitely proud of himself for chasing away the woman he’d labeled as the “bad guy.” Hannah laughed and fetched him a couple of salmon-flavored kitty treats from the kitchen and then she rushed out the door. She had a stop to make before she could go to the mayor’s fundraiser and she was running late.
Hannah gave thanks for Lisa once again as she started her Suburban, put it into reverse, and backed out of her parking spot. A neighbor was staying with her father tonight and Lisa had offered to cart the cookies and coffee urns to the community center for her. By the time Hannah arrived, the refreshment table would be set up and all she’d have to do was smile and serve.
Night had fallen and Hannah switched on her headlights. Once she exited the complex, she turned south on Old Lake Road and took the country road that led to the Hanks place. She’d promised Bill that she’d talk to Luanne tonight to see if the lipstick was one that she carried. Luanne had finished her shift at the cafe at six and she should be home by now.
Birch trees lined the sides of County Road 12, their white bark catching in the beams of Hannah’s headlights as she drove. The Sioux had used birch bark to make canoes. When Hannah was still in grade school, her class had taken a trip to the museum to see one. Young Hannah had decided that if the Indians had built canoes so many years ago, it should be even easier to do using modern tools. Unfortunately, her mother had spotted the barkless patches on the stand of birch in their backyard. Her canoe hadn’t gotten past the planning stage before Hannah had received the scolding of her life from Delores for attempting to kill her birch trees, accompanied by a spanking from her father for pilfering his best pocketknife.
Hannah’s lights caught the metal reflective triangle that was nailed to a tree trunk at the mouth of Bailey Road and she slowed to take the turn. Bailey Road was gravel because it provided access to only three homes. Freddy Sawyer still lived in his mother’s cottage at the edge of the puddle they called Lake Bailey. He was mildly retarded, but Freddy did just fine living by himself and doing odd jobs for the people in town. The second house on Bailey Road had been finished only last year. Otis Cox and his wife had built their retirement home on the site of his parents’ old cottage. They’d told everyone in town that they liked the quiet and the solitude, but Hannah figured it had more to do with the Lake Eden statute that limited dog owners to three canines per residence. Otis and Eleanor were crazy about dogs and now that they lived outside the town limits, they could take in as many strays as they wanted.
Hannah grinned as she drove past the cozy three-bedroom house. Otis and Eleanor’s matching Explorers were in the driveway, each sporting a new bumper sticker. They were rip-offs of the old “I New York” stickers. They read: “I My Dog.”
The only other residence on Bailey Road, way down at the end where the snowplows had no room to turn around, was the old Hanks place. Ned Hanks, Luanne’s father, had recently died of liver disease, the result of his years of alcohol abuse. Now that Ned was gone, the only occupants of the Hanks place were Luanne, her mother, and Luanne’s baby daughter, Suzie.
As she pulled up in front of the four-room cabin, Hannah thought about Luanne’s strange reaction to Bill. He’d told Hannah that he’d stopped Luanne once, for a broken taillight on the old car she drove, and she’d seemed positively terrified of him. Hannah didn’t understand that at all. Bill was a giant teddy bear, with his easy smile and his nonthreatening manner. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body, and everyone in Lake Eden knew it.
Hannah really didn’t know Luanne that well. She’d met her a couple of times when Michelle had brought her home from school and she’d seen her at the cafe, but they hadn’t exchanged more than a few polite words. All the same, Hannah admired her. Even though Luanne had dropped out of high school in her senior year, she’d continued to study throughout her pregnancy and she’d passed the equivalency test for her diploma. Luanne was a hard worker at the cafe, always pleasant and neatly groomed, and now that her father was dead, she was the sole support of her mother and Suzie. Though there were rumors, no one really knew who had fathered Luanne’s baby. Anyone who’d had gall to ask Luanne directly had received a perfectly polite, “I’d rather not say.”
Naturally, Hannah had brought cookies. She’d packed up a bag with a dozen of her Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies and she grabbed it as she got out of her Suburban. There was a mouth-watering aroma in the crisp night air and Hannah sniffed appreciatively. Someone was cooking supper and it smelled like fried ham and biscuits.
Luanne was clearly surprised to see Hannah when she answered the knock at the door. “Hannah! What are you doing way out here?”
“I need to talk to you, Luanne.” Hannah handed her the cookie bag. “I brought some Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies for Suzie.”
Luanne’s eyes narrowed perceptively, and Hannah didn’t blame her. She was practically a stranger and after all Luanne had been through, it was natural not to trust people. “How nice. Suzie loves sugar cookies. But why do you need to talk to me?”
“It’s about lipstick. Do you have a couple of minutes?”
Luanne hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Come on in. Just le
t me serve supper and then I’m all yours. I already ate at the cafe.”
Hannah stepped through the doorway into a wide rectangular room. The kitchen was at one end, there was a table in the center for eating, and a couch, two chairs, and a television set were down at the other end. Though it was shabby, it was squeaky-clean and two-thirds of the floor was carpeted with carpet samples that had been sewn together in an attractive crazy-quilt pattern.
Mrs. Hanks was sitting at the table, holding Luanne’s baby, and Hannah walked over to her. “Hi, Mrs. Hanks. I’m Hannah Swensen. Luanne went to school with my youngest sister, Michelle.”
“Sit down, Hannah,” Mrs. Hanks invited, patting the chair next to her. “Nice of you to drop by. You need some of Luanne’s lipstick?”
For a moment Hannah was floored, but then she remembered what she’d said at the door. Mrs. Hanks had sharp ears. “That’s right.”
“Why don’t you get Hannah a cup of coffee, honey?” Mrs. Hanks motioned to Luanne. “It’s nippy outside tonight.”
Luanne walked over to set a plate of ham, a bowl of green beans, and a basket of biscuits on the table. “How about it, Hannah? Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, if it’s made.”
“It’s made.” Luanne went back to the old wood stove and filled a cup from the blue enamel pot that sat at the back. She set it down in front of Hannah and asked, “You still drink it black, don’t you?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“From the cafe. The tips are bigger if I remember things like that. Just hold on a minute and I’ll put Suzie in her highchair. Then we can talk about that lipstick.”
Luanne slid her daughter into the highchair and pushed up the tray. She handed Suzie a biscuit and laughed as the little girl tried to push the whole thing into her mouth. “She’s still not clear on the concept of small bites.”
“They never are at that age,” Hannah responded with a smile.
Luanne retrieved the biscuit and broke it into bite-sized pieces. Then she turned to her mother. “Will you feed Suzie, Mom?”