by Joanne Fluke
Mike gave a little toot on his horn as Hannah approached and Hannah raised her hand to wave. That was when she realized that she still held her steno pad in her hand. She shoved it down into the bottom of her shoulder bag. Mike had seemed much more tolerant of her investigation this time around, but flaunting the tangible proof of her detective work would still be a little like waving a red flag.
Hannah smiled happily as she looked around her. Alfredo’s Ristorante was impressive and so was their cuisine. Mike had reserved a table by the window overlooking Eden Lake and while she’d ordered pollo piccata, a boneless chicken breast sautéed with lemon and capers, she’d talked Mike into the osso buco. Just as she’d expected, it had come with a garnish of sliced ripe olives.
“Don’t you want your pasta?” Mike asked, eying the side dish the waitress had placed by Hannah’s entrée.
“Of course I want it, but I can’t have pasta on my diet.”
“Do you mind if I eat it then?”
Hannah shook her head, even though she minded a lot. According to the menu, the pasta was homemade fresh rigatoni tossed with first-press, extra-virgin olive oil and butter, and liberally sprinkled with parmigiano reggiano, the best Parmesan cheese money could buy. She couldn’t have it, but she really didn’t want Mike to eat it. It was the spurned lover’s reaction, If I can’t have you, nobody can. And that was a possibility she hadn’t thought of before. If Rhonda had been involved with two men and she’d made noises about leaving one for the other, the loser could have killed Rhonda rather than let her go. It was one of the reasons why so many love triangles ended in tragedy.
“What are you thinking about?” Mike asked, swallowing the last of her pasta. “You look really intense.”
“Dessert, and how I can’t have any.”
“That’s not it.” Mike shook his head. “You’d look sad if you were thinking about missing dessert. What was it?”
Hannah thought about dissembling, but she couldn’t come up with a likely subject. Perhaps the truth was her best bet. “Actually, I was thinking about Rhonda and how jealousy could make someone mad enough to kill. I figured that Rhonda might have been part of a love triangle.”
“Rhonda was involved with a married man and his wife killed her?”
“Maybe, but I was thinking of another way. If Rhonda was involved with two men, one of them could have killed her rather than let the other one have her.”
Mike thought about that for a moment. “That makes more sense. Doc Knight said a woman could have stabbed Rhonda. It doesn’t take that much force to kill someone with a knife if the blade hits a vital spot. But we’ve got to assume that the person who killed her is the one who dug that grave and that dirt is as hard as concrete. Bill and I tried to dig a hole in the corner and it was tough going.”
“Then how did the killer manage to do it?”
“He used a pickax and then he shoveled it out. We found the tools in the corner of the basement.”
“Were there any prints?”
Mike shook his head. “Not even a partial. The fingerprint guys are sure he wore gloves.”
“How about the murder weapon? Did you recover it?”
“No. We think it was a hunting knife with a long blade, the kind you can buy almost anywhere for field-dressing big game. The killer probably took it with him and ditched it later. Unless we get lucky, we probably won’t find it.”
There was a note of frustration in Mike’s voice and Hannah could understand that. Every hunter in Minnesota had a hunting knife. “How about Rhonda’s apartment? Did you search it?”
“Of course we did, but we didn’t find anything that related to her murder.”
“Was there anything unusual about the autopsy?”
“Not really. Rhonda ate dinner that night and her stomach contents helped Doc narrow down the time of death. Her blood alcohol level showed that she drank almost a whole bottle of red wine with her dinner.”
“Then she was pretty tipsy when she went down the basement stairs?”
“She must have been. Good thing she wasn’t driving. Since her car is still parked at her apartment building, we figure someone must have dropped her off at the Voelker place.”
“Do you know who?”
Mike shook his head. “We spent hours trying to track that down, but we got nowhere. How about you?”
“I got the same place you did.” Hannah felt cheered. Mike wasn’t asking her to back off and he hadn’t even mentioned locking her up to keep her from interfering. “So you’re okay with me doing my own investigation?”
“I’m not happy, but I’m okay with it. Maybe reconciled would be a better word. Just keep out of trouble and tell me if you discover anything you think I should know.”
“Haven’t I always?” Hannah sidestepped any promises. “How about the crime scene? I didn’t really look around that closely. Did you find any clues?”
“Just one. We thought we had a suspect, but it turned out to be nothing.”
Hannah leaned forward. This was the first she’d heard about a suspect. “Who was it?”
“Jed Sawyer. We found an old Minnesota Twins baseball cap in the basement and Bill remembered that he’d seen Jed wearing one just like it. We questioned him, but it turns out Rhonda hired Jed and Freddy to do some handyman work when she was getting ready to sell the Voelker place.”
“That’s true. I heard they fixed some of the windows.”
“That fits with what Jed told us. He says he remembers taking off his cap while he was replacing one of the basement windows and he must have forgotten it down there.”
“And you believe that?”
“It checks out. We took another look at the crime scene photos and the window that Jed said he replaced still had the sticker on the glass.”
“Too bad,” Hannah said with a sigh.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like Jed?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that…I’m not sure he’s a good influence on Freddy.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s probably nothing.”
Mike gave her a stern look. “Spit it out, Hannah. It’s not like you to beat around the bush.”
“I think Jed’s pushing Freddy too hard and giving him ideas he can’t handle.”
“Like what?”
“Like trading in his mother’s car for a truck and going out to attract girls. Freddy idolizes Jed and he wants his approval. He’ll do anything Jed says and that worries me.” Hannah thought back to her conversation with Jed and that gave her an idea. “Would you check out something for me?”
“Maybe. Does it have anything to do with the murder investigation?”
“No, I’m just curious. Jed said that he worked on the maintenance crew at the prison and he made a point of telling me that he was a civilian worker. I don’t have any reason to think he’s lying, but there’s something about Jed I don’t quite trust.”
“That was my impression. I’ll find out if he was an inmate. Which prison?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But since he said the prison, instead of a prison, I’m assuming it’s in Minnesota.”
“Okay. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”
“Thanks, Mike.” Hannah smiled at him. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Sure. Shall I order you an after-dinner drink?”
“No, thanks. More coffee would be nice, though. I need to keep up my energy level and I’m running about a gallon short.”
Hannah left Mike sitting at the table and headed toward the entrance of the dining room. It was time to check out the restaurant’s takeout menu and see if anyone remembered who’d picked up the containers of osso buco that had landed in Rhonda’s garbage.
The hostess was at her post by the entrance. Hannah put on a friendly smile as she approached. “I notice that you have osso buco on the menu and that’s my mother’s favorite. Does Alfredo’s do takeout?”
“Yes, and we alternat
e our entrées.” The hostess returned Hannah’s smile. “Osso buco is available every Friday evening from six to eight. You have to call in advance with your order.”
“That’s reasonable. I’ll bet Friday nights are popular for takeout.”
“No, it’s actually our slowest night. Hold on a minute and I’ll show you what I mean.”
Hannah held her smile as the hostess flipped through pages on a clipboard. She was close to getting the information she wanted, but she wasn’t quite there yet.
“Here you go.” The hostess tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the page she’d chosen. “Six orders of osso buco. That’s all we sold last Friday, but I know we ran out in the kitchen. That means most people came out here and ordered it from the menu.”
Hannah was impressed. “Your system is very efficient. You actually keep the names of the people who ordered takeout?”
“We have to. It’s my job to make sure the takeout goes to the proper person at the time they specified. See? Three people ordered takeout, two orders apiece.”
Hannah blessed the fact that she could read upside down. She’d first learned that skill when Andrea was a child and used to sit facing her with a schoolbook. When Andrea had faltered over a word, Hannah had taught herself to read it upside down, so she wouldn’t have to move. And that just went to prove that laziness sometimes paid off.
“Would you like one of our takeout menus?”
“I’d like several.” Hannah accepted the printed menus the hostess gave her. “I’ll call in on Friday and order osso buco for my mother and her friends.”
“Not this Friday. We’re closed for the Fourth.”
“Right,” Hannah said. She’d been so intent on tracking down the takeout dinners, she’d forgotten all about the holiday. “I’ll call in next Friday. Thanks for the information.”
Hannah gave the hostess a parting smile and headed off to the ladies room. Once there, she pulled her steno pad out of her purse and jotted down the names from the takeout list. The first was Ken Purvis, Jordan High’s principal. Hannah really had to stretch her imagination to imagine Ken as Rhonda’s boyfriend. The second was Gil Surma, the high school counselor, and that also seemed impossible. The third name was even more unlikely because it was Reverend Knudson. He wasn’t married, but he lived with his grandmother. Hannah supposed that Rhonda could have been referring to Priscilla Knudson when she’d made her comment about not being able to marry unless there was a funeral. Mrs. Knudson had suffered a stroke only weeks before the Goetz’s New Year’s Eve party and Rhonda’d had no way of knowing she’d completely recover. Finding out which of the three men was involved with Rhonda would take time, but there was a pay phone in the ladies room and there was no time like the present to start narrowing the field.
Bonnie Surma, Gil’s wife, answered on the first ring. Hannah fixed a smile on her face—she’d heard that telemarketers used this technique to sound friendly—and took a deep breath. “Hi, Bonnie. It’s Hannah Swensen. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante and…”
“Take my advice and order their osso buco,” Bonnie interrupted her. “Gil picked it up for us on Friday night and it was marvelous.”
Hannah’s phony smile turned into a real grin. If Gil had taken osso buco home to Bonnie, he wasn’t Rhonda’s boyfriend.
“Friday was our anniversary and Gil wanted to do something special. I didn’t feel like getting dressed up and going out, so he ordered dinner and brought it home.”
“That was sweet of him,” Hannah said, scrounging for a pen in the bottom of her purse and crossing Gil’s name off her suspect list.
“It would have been sweeter if he hadn’t left for a meeting right after dinner, but even a good marriage can’t be perfection. Gil and I rub along very well together.”
Perfection. Rub along very well. Hannah came close to chuckling. Bonnie must have been at the same Lake Eden Regency Romance Club meeting as Delores.
“Did you need something, Hannah? Gil’s at a city council meeting. He said he’d call before he left for home, so I need to keep the line free.”
“Uh…yes. Yes, I did.” Hannah thought fast. She should have had an excuse for her call all prepared. “Tracey was talking about joining the Brownies the other day. She wanted to know how old she had to be.”
“I’m glad Tracey’s so interested. She’s still too young, but I’ll mail a packet to Andrea tomorrow with the guidelines.”
“Thanks, Bonnie. That’s all I needed. I’ll let you go.” Hannah hung up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. She liked Bonnie and Gil and she was glad that Rhonda hadn’t been a threat to their marriage.
The next name on Hannah’s list was Kenneth Purvis. Hannah had trouble visualizing Jordan High’s principal, a man whose most notable habit was polishing his glasses, in a steamy embrace with Rhonda, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Ken had picked up two orders of osso buco on Friday night.
Hannah had learned her lesson from Bonnie. She needed a good excuse for her call. When Ken or his wife, Kathy, answered, she’d ask about the community outreach night classes Jordan High was planning to hold in the fall. There had been an article about it last week in the Lake Eden Journal. She could pretend to be interested in signing up for basket weaving, or fly casting, or something like that.
Hannah looked up the number and dialed. The phone rang several times and then their answering machine clicked on. Rather than leave a message, Hannah hung up and turned to the third name on the list, Reverend Knudson.
“Redeemer Lutheran,” Reverend Knudson’s grandmother answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Mrs. Knudson. It’s Hannah Swensen.”
“Hello, Hannah.” Mrs. Knudson sounded pleased to hear from her. “The reverend isn’t home right now, but I can take a message and have him call you in the morning.”
“That’s okay. Maybe you can help. I meant to call earlier, but I forgot. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante. Have you ever had their osso buco?”
“No, but it’s one of my favorite dishes.”
“Maybe your grandson could pick it up as takeout for you,” Hannah said, hoping to solicit more information. It was obvious that Reverend Knudson hadn’t taken osso buco to his grandmother, but he’d left Alfredo’s last Friday night with two takeout orders. “They have it on their menu every Friday night.”
“You might know it would be Fridays!” Priscilla Knudson gave an exasperated sigh. “The reverend is always gone on Friday nights. Church-related meetings, you know.”
“Of course,” Hannah said, drawing a circle around Reverend Knudson’s name. If he’d gone to a church-related meeting on Friday night, she was willing to bet he hadn’t arrived with two orders of takeout osso buco from Alfredo’s Ristorante.
“You said earlier that you thought I might be able to help you. With what, Hannah?”
Mrs. Knudson’s question brought Hannah back from her speculations and she launched into the excuse she’d prepared. “I heard about the bake sale Redeemer Lutheran is holding on Saturdays and I wanted to contribute something. How about a box of cookies?”
“Why, that would be lovely, Hannah. I’m sure the reverend will be delighted. Can we count on you for this Saturday?”
“Absolutely.”
Hannah smiled as she hung up the phone. A box of free cookies was a small price to pay for the information Priscilla Knudson had given her. She’d eliminated Gil Surma and she had yet to reach Principal Purvis, but Reverend Knudson had just jumped to the top of her suspect list.
Chapter
Fourteen
H annah glanced at her watch in the light from Mike’s dashboard as they came over the crest of a long steep hill and neared the Quick Stop. They still had almost fifteen minutes before Michelle’s bus was due to arrive. “Let’s park on the side and go in. I want to see how my cookies are doing for Sean and Ron.”
Mike pulled into a spot at the side of the building and shut off his engine. “We can go in, but I already know y
our cookies are selling really well.”
“How do you know that? Did you ask Sean and Ron?”
“I didn’t have to ask. The guys at the station used to stop for doughnuts and coffee on their way to work, but now they bring in coffee and your cookies. Nobody buys doughnuts anymore.”
“Thanks for telling me.” Hannah was pleased. She’d started to supply the Quick Stop with cookies several months ago and the volume of their orders had been steadily increasing. That was a good sign, but she hadn’t been sure if Sean and Ron were selling more cookies, or just eating more of them.
“You can go in if you want to.” Mike turned to smile at her. “I’ll stay here and meet Michelle if her bus comes in early.”
Hannah laughed. “Thanks, but that won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve never met Michelle. You don’t even know what she looks like.”
“Yes, I do. There’s a picture of the three of you on the mantel over your fireplace. I recognized Andrea and you, so I figured Michelle had to be the one in the middle with the brown hair.”
Hannah was impressed, even though she knew Mike had been trained to notice things. “You’re right, but that’s an old picture. You might not recognize her now.”
“She can’t be that different. Her hair could be another color and she could have gained or lost weight, but her basic bone structure is the same. I’ll spot her. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Hannah began to grin. “I guess any cop who can recognize a suspect from his DMV picture wouldn’t have much trouble with an old family photo.”
“That’s right.” Mike lowered his window, looked out for a moment, and then he turned to grin at her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go inside. Here comes the bus now.”
Hannah glanced out his window, but all she saw was an empty road. “Where? I don’t see anything.”