Banana Cream Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Hi, Hannah.” Norman smiled and turned to Michelle. “It’s good to see you again, Michelle.”

  “You, too.” Michelle gave a little wave to Doc. “We’ll see you later, Doc,” she told him, and then she turned to Norman again. “Mother told us why Doc called you.”

  “Good. Then no explanations are necessary.” Norman retrieved a small, black zippered pouch from the table by his chair and stood up. “I’m ready. Let’s go down there and find those papers you need.”

  “We’re going to need the key from Mother,” Hannah told him.

  “That’s not a problem.” Norman patted the black pouch. “I’ve got what we need in here. Let’s go.”

  Hannah and Michelle followed Norman to the entrance of the penthouse staircase, where he grabbed the key that hung from a hook by the door and opened it. They hurried down the steps to the floor below and Norman used the key to open the door to the lobby of that floor.

  “Follow me,” he said leading the way across the lobby to Tori’s door. “Your mother called Tori’s neighbors to invite them up for a drink. She wanted to make sure that we didn’t run into them. They told her they’d love to come up another night, but that they were just leaving for the mall to see a movie at the multiplex.”

  “That was a very smart move for Mother to make,” Michelle commented. “She’s very devious. I think she’d make a really good criminal.”

  “Don’t tell her that!” Hannah cautioned. “It’s not exactly a compliment.”

  Both sisters watched as Norman removed the crime scene tape, then opened the zippered pouch. They expected him to take out the duplicate key to Tori’s door that their mother had made, but instead of a key, he pulled out several dental tools of various sizes.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah asked as he inserted the point of one in the lock.

  “Picking the lock. I told Doc I could do it after I looked at theirs. It’s a four-tumbler system and it’s not very complicated. I’ll have it open in just a few . . .”

  A clearly audible click interrupted the rest of Norman’s sentence.

  “There it is,” he said, turning the handle and opening the door.

  “I guess Mother’s not the only one who could lead a successful criminal life,” Hannah said, following Norman into Tori’s living room.

  “I can pick a padlock, but not a lock like that,” Michelle admitted. “Will you teach me how, Norman?”

  “No!” Hannah said, grabbing Norman’s arm. “Michelle doesn’t need that particular skill.”

  “But what if I lock myself out of the house?” Michelle argued.

  “Then you call a locksmith, show him your ID to prove that you live there, and get him to do it.”

  “But that costs money!”

  “So does a lawyer if someone catches you and doesn’t believe that you live there.”

  “How are we going to do this?” Norman asked them, closing and locking Tori’s door. “And what, exactly, are we looking for?”

  “We’re looking for the name of Tori’s business manager and financial advisor, the guy she called her money man,” Hannah told him.

  “You’re sure it’s a man?”

  “Yes. His name could be in a lot of different places. It might be on a financial record, a bank statement, Tori’s checkbook register if she wrote him a check for his services, her will if she kept a copy of that, her address book if she had one, a list of telephone numbers, or . . . what else, Michelle?”

  “A note he sent her on letterhead, or maybe a check stub that she deposited.”

  “Good! I didn’t think of those.”

  Norman looked thoughtful. “How about a stack of mail that hasn’t been opened yet? There could be an unopened bank statement.”

  “You’re right, Norman. And that could be anywhere in this condo. That means we’ll have to search the whole place.”

  “Do you know if she had a computer?” Norman asked.

  “I don’t know, but almost everybody does.”

  “You didn’t for a while,” Michelle pointed out.

  “I know, but I was stubborn. And now I couldn’t get along without it. But how can we access Tori’s computer if we don’t know her password? And if she had a computer, don’t you think that Mike already found it and took it down to the experts at the sheriff’s station?”

  “He probably did, but it won’t hurt to look. We’re going to be searching everywhere anyway. Now . . . where do we start?”

  “We start right here. I’ll search Tori’s living room while Michelle searches the patio. You start with the powder room, Norman. And then move on to the other two bathrooms. After Michelle finishes the patio, she’ll search Tori’s acting studio. There are a lot of cabinets in there and it should take a while.”

  Norman looked a bit disappointed. “It won’t take long to search the bathrooms. Where do you want me to go next?”

  “Tori’s master bedroom is huge and there are two walk-in closets. You’ll probably be done with the bathrooms before I finish in the master bedroom. You can join me in there.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had in years!” Norman quipped and then he chuckled at the shocked expression on Hannah’s face. “It’s okay, Hannah. I was just teasing you. I knew perfectly well what you meant.”

  “How about Tori’s home office?” Michelle asked. “You said that was the place we’d be most likely to find what we needed.”

  “That’s why I think we should search that together. If one of us misses something, somebody else might catch it. When Norman and I are through in the bedroom . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and sighed. “Let me rephrase that. When Norman and I are through searching the bedroom, we’ll head for Tori’s office. You can meet us there, Michelle.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Hannah entered Tori’s master bedroom. She’d found nothing related to Tori’s business manager in the living room and she was eager to start going through the closets. Some people stored important documents in banker’s boxes and Tori could have stacked them in a corner of one of her walk-in closets.

  “I’m here,” Norman announced, coming in the bedroom door. “I finished the bathrooms.”

  “And you didn’t find anything?”

  “Nothing except the fact that Tori used Charmin Ultra Soft bathroom tissue, and was very fond of scented soap.” Norman walked over to Hannah. “Do you have your phone on vibrate, Hannah?”

  “Uh . . . I think so.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In my purse in the living room. I know I shouldn’t have brought it with me, but I feel naked without it.”

  Norman made a choking sound. “I’m not touching that one,” he said. “I’ll go get your purse and bring it back here. It’s so big, it would be the first thing anyone saw if they came in the door.”

  “But who would come in the door?”

  Norman shrugged. “A detective from the sheriff’s department who came around to check that their crime tape was still up? If he saw that it wasn’t, he’d come in here right away.”

  “Right,” Hannah said quickly. “I didn’t think of that when you took it down.”

  Norman was back in a moment with her purse and Hannah handed him her cell phone. “I think it’s on vibrate, but you’d better make sure I did it right.”

  Norman checked Hannah’s phone settings. “It’s on vibrate. Now, what shall we do with your purse?”

  “We could put it on the floor of the closet. I noticed that there were other purses there. It won’t look out of place if someone does happen to come in. But what are we going to do if that happens?”

  “Hide.” Norman walked over to the bed and knelt down, looking beneath the bedskirt. “There’s room for us under here,” he said, flipping the bedskirt back into place and standing up straight again.

  “How about Michelle?”

  “We already discussed it. She’s going to hide in one of Tori’s costume wardrobes. There are three of them against the wall in back of t
he stage area and one’s almost empty.”

  Hannah was impressed. Norman had everything all worked out, even an emergency plan. She hoped they wouldn’t need it, but planning ahead was a lot better than trying to find a hiding place at the last moment.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Norman,” she said, smiling at him. “Let’s start in the closet and maybe we’ll hit pay dirt.”

  After twenty minutes in the first walk-in closet, they had nothing to show for their efforts except a tangle of multicolored yarn that had yet to be rolled into balls, fuzz from a stack of blankets they’d unfolded, a box of old grocery receipts that Tori had kept for some unknown reason, and a torn veil that had fallen off a hat they’d been unable to identify.

  “Nothing here,” Norman said lifting another box of useless receipts and putting them back on the closet shelf. It’s got to be somewhere . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence and gripped Hannah’s arm. “Listen!” he whispered.

  “I don’t hear . . .” Hannah drew in her breath sharply as she heard the distinctive creak of the hinges on Tori’s front door. “Someone’s here!”

  “Under the bed. Quick!” Norman pulled her to her feet and both of them raced for the side of the bed. They’d just managed to squirm underneath when the sound of footfalls on thick carpeting approached the master bedroom.

  Hardly daring to breathe, Hannah gripped Norman’s hand. Would the intruder find them? Was Tori’s condo being burglarized? Or was the person who’d broken into Tori’s condo the person who’d killed her?!

  Heart beating so frantically in her chest that she was afraid the intruder might hear it, Hannah shut her eyes and hung on to Norman’s hand. She was grateful she wasn’t alone. If she’d been under the bed, all by herself, her terror might have escalated even more rapidly. Norman’s presence steadied her, made her body remain perfectly motionless, listening for any sounds that would tell her what the intruder was doing.

  A drawer in Tori’s bedside table opened. The intruder was searching for something, rummaging around in its contents. Hannah found herself wishing that they’d started their search with the bedside tables. Then she might have known what the intruder was searching for.

  “Ah-ha!” a low voice exclaimed, a man’s voice. “I knew you wouldn’t throw it away and now I’ve got it back!”

  There was a creak as the man sat down on the bed, immediately above her, and Hannah held her breath again. He wasn’t going to stretch out and go to sleep here, was he?

  Something was happening. He was panting slightly.

  Hannah turned her head and took a chance she would not have taken if she’d thought it through before she acted. She lifted the bedskirt and peeked out of the opening she’d made.

  Black tennis shoes with silver shoelaces. And there was a silver stripe on the side, about an inch up from the sole. They looked as if they were new, or almost new, and the tip of the lace she could see was shiny, as if it were made of real silver.

  “I knew you’d save it,” the voice said, and paper rustled above Hannah’s head. “You said you’d thrown it away, but I knew you wouldn’t do that. It meant too much to you, and you kept it. You would have changed your mind about me, Tori. I know that. But you never got a chance to tell me so. Who did this to you? I just wish there were some way you could tell me! Who could do something so horrible to you?!”

  The bed creaked as the man got up, and Hannah dropped the bedspread and let it whisper back into place. And then, as he moved toward the door, his footfalls grew softer. He was heading down the hallway with whatever he’d taken from Tori’s bed table.

  “Shhhh!” Norman warned in a whisper, squeezing her hand. “Not a word until he leaves.”

  They remained there, stretched out on their stomachs, motionless and still until both of them heard the sound of the outer door opening and then shutting again.

  “He had a key!” Hannah whispered.

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’s as good as I am at picking locks. Don’t get up, Hannah. If he forgot anything, he might come back.”

  And so they remained there, under Tori’s king-size bed, until they heard the sound of the elevator descending.

  Norman released Hannah’s hand. “Okay,” he told her. “You can get out now. Let’s go see if Michelle’s okay. I don’t think he went into Tori’s studio at all.”

  Hannah squirmed out of her uncomfortable confinement and stood up to brush off her clothes. She was covered in dust and it was obvious that Tori’s cleaning woman hadn’t bothered to vacuum under her bed.

  “Did you see him?” she asked as she followed Norman to the bedroom doorway and down the hall to the studio.

  “No, did you?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, but I saw his shoes. And I’ll recognize them if I see them again. They were black with silver laces. And they had a stripe on the side.”

  “That’s something,” Norman said, turning back to give her a friendly hug. “You did fine, Hannah. I’m positive that he didn’t know we were there.”

  “Me, too.” Hannah followed Norman into Tori’s studio and both of them hurried to the standing wardrobes. “Which one?” Hannah asked him.

  “This one.” Norman lifted the catch and opened the wardrobe. He pushed aside several period dresses from the turn of the last century to reveal Michelle, crouching there.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you!” she said, holding out her hands so that Norman could help her to her feet. “I forgot to look, but these things don’t open from the inside. I would have been in there until Mother and Doc came looking for me. I think I would have been frozen in that crouch for the rest of my life!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Did you find anything?” Delores asked as her daughters and Norman arrived back at the penthouse.

  “Maybe,” Hannah told her. “We found a bill from a business management service in New York.”

  “Then you know Tori’s business manager’s name?”

  “Not exactly,” Norman admitted. “The bill has the name of the management firm on top, and it lists four of the principals below it.”

  “Then one of those four people was Tori’s business manager?” Delores asked them.

  “Not necessarily.” Michelle answered. “If it’s the same as a big law firm, we have to assume that more people work at that firm than the principals who are listed.”

  Delores sighed. “Of course you’re right. So how are you going to tell which one was Tori’s money guy?”

  “I’m not sure,” Hannah told her. “Do you and Doc have any suggestions for us?”

  “Let’s go ask Doc.” Delores led the way to the garden area. “We’re enjoying a glass of champagne. Would you like one?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, thanks, Mother. I’ll just have cold water, if you have any left in the cooler.”

  “There’s always plenty of bottled water in the cooler. I also have iced tea and iced coffee.”

  “Then I’d love iced coffee!” Hannah told her.

  “Me, too,” Michelle echoed the request.

  Norman nodded when Delores turned to him. “I agree with the Swensen sisters. Iced coffee would be wonderful. But if you don’t have enough, iced tea will do just fine for me.”

  “I’ll have plenty in just a minute,” Delores told him, picking up the phone on the table next to her chair. “This is a direct line and I’ll simply order it. That’s one of the wonderful perks about living in the penthouse. We can order anything we want from the Red Velvet Lounge in the lobby. They send it right up and all I have to do is meet them at the elevator.”

  Hannah remembered the nights on the cruise ship when Ross had ordered drinks, or food from their butler. It was a convenience most people didn’t have in their lives.

  “Doc and I decided that we were hungry at midnight last night,” Delores went on, “and all we had to do was call down to the lounge and they brought up grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream.” She turned to Doc. “You liked it, didn’t you, dear?”

  �
�You know I did. I ate half of your grilled cheese and all of mine. And the homemade strawberry ice cream was great.” Doc slipped his arm around Delores’s shoulders and gave her a little hug. “You’re a much better cook than you used to be.”

  Delores laughed good-naturedly, and Hannah realized that her mother would have bristled at the remark from anyone else. Delores really loved Doc and that was proof of it.

  As her mother ordered their iced coffees, Hannah thought about rich people in luxury apartments who ordered from restaurants whenever they wanted and didn’t even know how to turn on their expensive, gourmet stoves. In her mother’s case, it was a very good thing if she didn’t turn on her stove. And her daughters would be the first three people to testify to that! Her favorite two entrees, perhaps her only two entrees, were Hawaiian Pot Roast and EZ Lasagna. They were certainly edible, but no one could eat the same thing every other night. Perhaps that was the reason that their father had made lunch and dinner for them every time Delores was gone. And perhaps it was also the reason that Hannah had learned to cook and bake. That meant she ought to be thanking Delores for falling short in the meal preparation department.

  As their mother’s new husband, Doc deserved good cuisine when he came home from the hospital. It was a very good thing that her mother and Doc were living in a place where they could order good food by simply picking up the telephone.

  Could that be one of the reasons why Doc had purchased the penthouse condo and given it to Delores as a wedding present? Hannah’s mind latched onto the idea, and she gave what she thought was a silent chuckle. As it turned out, it wasn’t so silent.

  Norman turned to give her a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?” he asked her.

  “Nothing at all,” she responded. “I was just thinking about having a good restaurant a few floors below me and being able to order anything I wanted at almost any time.”

  “A few floors below you would be the sub-basement below the parking garage,” Norman pointed out. “I don’t think you’d want to order food from there.”

  “Rat-toui,” Michelle said, and everyone laughed except Hannah, who bit her lip in order to maintain a sober expression.