by Joanne Fluke
“What are you thinking about?” Norman asked.
“Dust devils and sand devils. And I was just wondering if there were snow devils.”
“There are, but most people call them snowspouts. They happen when a mass of cold air hovers over a warmer body of water. That creates a kind of waterspout that freezes when it gets up in the cold air.”
Hannah shivered slightly. It was a cold night and talking about freezing waterspouts was making her colder.
“Cold?” Norman asked, slipping his arm around her shoulder.
“Yes. I wish I could be magically transported to somewhere warmer…like the middle of a desert.”
“Do you want to go to Palm Springs? It’s only a few hours from here by plane.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t.”
“Why not? We could fly in on a Friday night and spend the weekend. And if you felt you had to get back to Lake Eden, we could fly back late Sunday night.”
“Tempting,” Hannah commented and it was. She’d love a weekend getaway. But she had a ton of work to do and she couldn’t ask Lisa to do it all. “I’d love to, but we’re right in the middle of our busy season. Could we table it until it slows down at the end of February?”
“We can do that. I’ll ask you again on Valentine’s Day. It should be cold enough to tempt you.”
“I’m sure it will be!” Hannah wondered if she’d say yes. Valentine’s Day was less than two months away and it would be equally tempting then. The snowbirds would be gone and everyone who was left would be sick of the ice and snow.
“Okay, it’s a date.”
“But I didn’t say I’d go.”
“I know that. I just meant it’s a date to ask you.”
“Okay.” They arrived at the entrance to the Crazy Elf Christmas Tree Lot and Hannah opened the gate. “Follow me,” she said. “I know where Larry’s trailer is.”
Everything looked different now that the main lights were off. They walked past the darkened and deserted log cabins that housed the shops and turned left on Rudolf Lane.
“This is strange without the lights and music,” Norman said, and Hannah agreed. And although she’d never suspected she’d miss the loud, blaring Christmas carols, she did.
“Here’s Elf Headquarters,” she informed him as they turned down the path for the double-wide trailer where Larry lived. “The lights are on. He’s waiting for us.”
“Nice trailer,” Norman said as they approached.
“I know. It’s huge. Larry told me there are two bedrooms and he made one of them into an office. He’s got a humungous flat screen television in the living room so he can watch sports.”
“Larry’s a sports fan?”
“I’ll say! When Mike and I were here, he muted the sound but he left the game on.”
“And most ordinary fans would have turned the game off until after you left?”
“Right.” Hannah was always impressed at how fast Norman caught her train of thought.
They climbed up the low stairs to the trailer and Norman stepped aside so that Hannah could knock.
“Larry?” she called out, rapping sharply on the door.
There was a beat of silence and then another. They could hear the television playing inside and it sounded like it was a basketball game.
“Let me,” Norman said, stepping forward to knock even harder. He waited a moment and then he tried again.
Nothing, absolutely nothing happened. There was no sound from inside except the voice of the announcer and roar of the crowd.
“Try it again,” Hannah suggested.
Norman balled up his fist and pounded on the door while Hannah called out Larry’s name. It had absolutely no effect and the door remained tightly closed.
Hannah turned to Norman. “What shall we do?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s see if the door’s open. He could have fallen asleep in front of the television.”
Although Hannah couldn’t see how Larry could sleep through such a racket, she stepped aside so that Norman could try the door. When the knob turned, she gave a little gasp. For some reason she didn’t like this. She didn’t like it at all. Maybe it was because the park looked so different with the main lights off and the crowd gone home. Or maybe there was something wrong and they ought to hightail it out of here.
“What?” Norman turned to her as her grip on his arm tightened.
“I don’t know. It’s just kind of strange, that’s all.”
“What’s strange?”
“The door’s unlocked. You’d think he’d lock it at night.”
“He might not be worried about anyone walking in on him since the park’s closed for the night,” Norman suggested.
“Maybe you’re right. But do you think we should go in?”
“He said he’d meet you here, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But…” Hannah’s voice trailed off and she swallowed hard. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.
“Come on. Let’s go in and get out of the cold.”
Norman opened the door and the light spilled out. He took her hand to pull her inside, but Hannah couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She wasn’t sure why, but she really didn’t want to go inside Elf Headquarters. It was a lot like the reticence she’d experienced when Delores had asked her to go on a roller coaster with Andrea. That little excursion had ended in disaster and Hannah now knew that roller coasters and her stomach didn’t coexist well. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow,” she suggested, hoping he’d agree.
“Why? Larry should be back soon. He left the lights and the television on.”
“I know, but isn’t it rude to go in uninvited?” Hannah asked, trying to control her unreasonable urge to flee.
“The door was unlocked and it’s pretty obvious he left it open for us. That counts as an invitation in my book. Come on, Hannah. It’s silly to stand out here in the wind.”
“Right,” Hannah said, taking a deep breath for courage as she followed Norman inside.
There was a table just inside the doorway on her left. Hannah glanced at it and saw an envelope with her name written on the front. Larry had made out her check and receipt, just as he’d promised to do. She picked up the envelope, stuffed it in her purse, and followed Norman as he stepped deeper into the room.
Even though it was silly, she found herself holding her breath. There was something wrong. She was sure of it. And…there it was!
“What’s wrong?” Norman asked, turning to her in alarm as she gasped out loud in shock.
“The TV,” Hannah said, pointing at the huge flat screen hanging on the wall. Something was drastically wrong with Larry’s giant screen television set. Areas of the screen were glowing and other areas were dark. There were a couple of holes in the top part of the screen, but it continued to glow and fade almost like a light show and Hannah was mesmerized. And all the while the announcer continued to blather excitedly about the game they couldn’t see.
The holes in the screen looked a lot like bullet holes to her! Hannah’s mind went into overdrive. Had Larry gotten so angry with the outcome of the game that he’d shot his television set? Her gaze shifted to the coffee table in front of the couch. There were chips and a container of dip, along with a half-empty bottle of brandy and a snifter that had a bit of amber-colored liquid in the bottom. It was pretty evident that Larry had been drinking and that lent credence to her theory about the holes. “I don’t like this,” she said.
“I’m not exactly happy with it either,” Norman replied. “But I don’t think it’s all that unusual. My dad threw a glass at the television once when they preempted his favorite show for a political debate.”
As Norman spoke Hannah turned to survey the rest of the room. Nothing was moving, there was no sign of any other damage, and everything appeared to be perfectly…
“Hannah?” Norman turned to his suddenly silent companion. “What’s the matter?”
“There,” Hannah
somehow managed to say and she pointed to the area on the other side of the door.
Norman turned to look. “Oh,” he said. “There’s Larry.”
“Yes.”
Norman moved a smidgen closer to the prone figure on the rug. “There’s a brandy bottle on the coffee table. He could be dead drunk.”
“Or he could simply be dead,” Hannah said, swallowing again in an attempt to lubricate her suddenly parched throat.
“I’d better feel for a pulse.”
Hannah stepped back. She wasn’t about to fight about which of them should feel for Larry’s pulse. She didn’t really want to touch Larry anyway. Instead, she averted her eyes as Norman knelt down next to Larry on the rug and that’s when she noticed her platter on the floor, along with some scattered crumbs that could only have come from her Minnesota Plum Pudding. Larry must have been carrying the platter when he answered the door.
“No pulse,” Norman said straightening up and turning to her. “He’s dead.”
“Dead,” Hannah repeated, not liking that diagnosis one bit.
“I’d better call Mike,” Norman told her, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone. “You can wait outside if you don’t want to stay here.”
“Alone?!” Hannah realized that her voice had turned into a frightened squeak and she regretted it. But she really didn’t want to stand outside when she wasn’t sure how Larry had died. “Was he…murdered?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I won’t know unless I turn him over and I’ll leave that to the authorities.”
“Right,” Hannah said, leaning against the wall. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at Larry, and listened to the sportscaster’s voice as he gave a play-by-play account of the basketball game. She didn’t know who was playing and she didn’t care, but if she concentrated on what he was saying, she could avoid listening to Norman as he called Mike and told him why he should come out to the Crazy Elf Christmas Tree Lot right away.
Chapter Fifteen
“So he might have been expecting you when he opened the door?”
“It’s certainly possible. He knew I was coming to get a check for the cookies, and I called him from the Inn to tell him we were on the way.” Hannah refilled Mike’s coffee cup from the carafe on her coffee table.
“What time did you call him?”
“It must have been close to nine. I could hear someone announcing that the park was about to close over the loudspeakers.”
“And what time did you enter the park?”
Hannah shrugged. “It was probably after nine-thirty, but I didn’t check the time.”
“I did,” Norman spoke up. “The clock on my dash read nine-fifty when we got out of the car. It’s five minutes fast.”
“So you’re not late to work?” Mike asked.
“That’s right. You do the same thing?”
“You bet.”
Hannah wasn’t interested in a discussion of tardiness in the workplace and she cut them off by asking Mike a question. “Was Larry shot?”
“We’re waiting for a final determination from the coroner.”
“Doc Knight couldn’t tell if Larry was shot?” Hannah couldn’t believe her ears.
“Of course he could tell.” Mike turned to Norman who was sitting next to Hannah on the couch. “Describe everything you saw when you entered the park.”
“Well…the music and the main lights were off. Only the dim lights they use at night were on. The gate was closed, but it was unlocked and that’s how we got in.”
“Did you see or hear anyone?”
Both Hannah and Norman shook their heads.
“No one,” Hannah said.
“I guess someone could have been hiding in one of the shops or tents,” Norman qualified it, “but we didn’t actually see anyone.”
“No noises that might have led you to believe that someone else was in the park with you?”
“No,” Hannah answered that question. “Of course the wind was blowing and that might have masked any sounds.”
“Did you notice any footprints outside the trailer?”
“No,” Norman answered the question. “The wind had blown most of the snow away from the steps and the pathway.”
“Hannah?”
Mike turned to her and Hannah shook her head. “If there were footprints, we didn’t notice them.”
“Okay.” Mike jotted something in his notebook. “All right, Hannah. Describe everything you saw when you entered the trailer. I’m interested in your first impressions.”
“Norman stepped in and I followed him. The second I stepped in the door, I thought something was wrong.”
“Why?”
“There was no reason, not really. I hadn’t noticed the television screen yet, and I didn’t see Larry’s body until later.”
“But your slay-dar was working overtime?” Mike asked.
“I guess you could say that.” Hannah smiled slightly, not really minding Mike’s use of the word Norman had coined a few months ago to describe her affinity for finding murder victims. “When I first stepped inside, I looked to the left and I saw an envelope on the table next to the doorway. It had my name written on the outside and…uh-oh!”
“What’s wrong?” Norman asked when Hannah fell suddenly silent.
“It’s just…When I saw my name, I assumed it was the check and receipt that Larry had promised to give me. I picked it up and put it in my purse, and that means I removed something from the crime scene!”
“You removed something from a place you didn’t know was a crime scene,” Norman corrected her.
“That’s right,” Mike said. “Do you still have the envelope?”
“Yes. Do you want it?” When Mike nodded, Hannah went to get the envelope out of her purse. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
Mike opened the envelope and took out the papers inside. “It’s a check made out to The Cookie Jar, and a receipt for the cookies you delivered.”
“That’s what I thought it was. Do you need to keep it for evidence?” Hannah asked.
Mike thought about it for a moment and then he shook his head. “Not if it was just sitting on the table. I can’t imagine any way this envelope could relate to the killer, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a copy of it for the file.”
“Would it work if I scanned the envelope and the contents?” Norman asked. “That way Hannah can deposit the check tomorrow.”
“That’ll do,” Mike said, turning to Hannah as Norman went to use her computer. “What did you see next?”
“The holes in the television screen. And then the half-full bottle of brandy and the nearly-empty snifter on the coffee table. I remember thinking that Larry might have had one too many and shot his own television screen.”
“But you still didn’t know that Larry was dead?”
“No. Not then. I remember saying that I didn’t like the way things looked, and Norman agreed with me. But then he said something about his father getting so mad when they preempted his favorite program that he threw a glass at his television set.”
“And that reassured you?”
“Not really. I still had the feeling that something was wrong. That’s when I turned around to look at the whole room and I saw Larry on the floor.”
“And that’s when Norman called me?”
“Not quite yet. First Norman went over to feel for a pulse and then he called you.”
“Okay. Thanks, Hannah.” Mike began to jot things down in his notebook again.
“Coffee?” Hannah asked him. “It should be ready by now.”
“Sure.”
Hannah went off to get the coffee, leaving Mike to his notes and Norman to print out the scans. By the time she came back into the living room, Norman was handing Mike the prints he’d made.
“You still haven’t told us if Larry was shot,” Norman reminded Mike.
“You wouldn’t need to ask if you’d turned the body over. Thanks for not doing that. It mak
es our job easier if the victim’s body hasn’t been moved.”
Hannah waited for the answer to Norman’s query, but it wasn’t forthcoming. It probably wouldn’t be. She knew Mike well enough to predict that he’d give them as little information about the murder as possible. It was always a trade-off with Mike. If she tossed him a piece of information that he wanted, he’d feed her scraps about what he knew.
“I wonder if Larry’s unorthodox business practices had anything to do with his murder,” she mused. And then she waited.
Mike turned to her quickly. “What unorthodox business practices?”
“You’ll have to ask Mayor Bascomb about that. He can explain it better than I can. How was Larry killed?”
“That’s confidential.”
“Not for long,” Hannah went into her best argument. “Minnie Holtzmeier’s son is Doc Knight’s night ambulance driver. And he’s fishing buddies with Jake and Kelly on the News at O’Dark-Thirty show. How long do you think it’ll take them to broadcast it on KCOW radio?”
Mike thought about that for a minute and then he sighed. “He was shot through the heart, and I’m guessing it was a small caliber pistol. Maybe a twenty-two, but we won’t know for sure until Doc fishes out the bullet and forensics gets through with it.”
“So the killer shot Larry and the television screen?” Norman asked.
“In that order?” Hannah added her own question.
“That’s probably right,” Mike admitted. “The way I see it, Mr. Jaeger opened the door expecting you, and someone else was there. That someone pulled a gun and Mr. Jaeger was backing up in a futile attempt to get away from his killer when he was shot.”
“How many times?” Hannah asked.
“Only once. Doc Knight found one entrance wound and no exit wound. After Mr. Jaeger fell, the shooter crossed over to the television set and put three bullets in the screen.”
“I wonder why the killer shot the television,” Hannah said.
“We won’t know until we catch him,” Mike said, and then he grinned. “Of course I’ve got my own personal theory.”
“What’s that?” Norman asked.