Double Dutch Death

by Karen Musser Nortman

  Dean stuck his hands in his back pockets and took a casual, friendly stance. “Morning, Harry. Are you working on something here? Do you need any help?”

  “Not really. I just thought someone should check and see if some of the bulbs needed replanting or anything. Be a shame to lose all of Peter’s work.”

  “That’s good of you, but I don’t think the police want us here yet.”

  Harry nodded. “You’re probably right.” He started to walk back toward the street.

  “When you do get permission to work in the beds, Harry, give me a call. I’ll be glad to help.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Harry said over his shoulder.

  Dean and Lil didn’t speak until they were back in the car.

  “That was pretty fishy, don’t you think?” Lil said.

  “Yeah, his explanation is certainly weak. The crime scene tape is obvious.”

  “We told Detective Wilkins about Harry seeing Peter yesterday, but I never thought to mention how interested he was in the hybrid tulips that Peter was working on.”

  Dean frowned. “And?”

  “Bess seemed to think that it was extremely strange and inappropriate, so soon after Peter’s death.”

  “I can’t imagine that the police would find anything suspicious about it.”

  Lil shrugged. “Maybe not, but with the damage to the beds, one wonders.”

  Dean sighed. “I’ll let Charles know.

  At the bakery, Lil resisted her baser impulses to buy one of everything and purchased only a half dozen Dutch letters and a loaf of rye bread. Dean selected an almond coffee cake. By the time they returned home, Max and Bess were at the table discussing the events of the previous day. The fragrant smell of baking cake wafted through the kitchen.

  “What’s cookin’, Good Lookin’?” Dean asked Bess.

  “I’m making a cake to take over to Hans and Anna Bakke,” Bess said. “I just feel terrible about Helen.”

  “Well, we brought you a breakfast treat.” Dean set the almond coffee cake on the table. He and Lil refreshed their coffee and sat down to generous slices of the pastry.

  Lil turned to her sister. “How’s the ankle today?”

  Max grimaced. “A little swollen.” She pushed back in the wheelchair to display the injured limb. The skin was stretched tight around the ankle and was discolored.

  “Yikes!” Lil said. “You’d better stay off it as much as possible.”

  “Didn’t you ladies get involved in a murder at a family reunion last year?” Dean asked.

  “Well, to be precise, we weren’t involved in the murder—just in solving it,” Max said.

  “That’s what I meant to say.” Dean grinned and wiped frosting from his mouth.

  “We only got involved because our brother Donnie was accused,” Lil explained.

  “Ah yes, I’ve heard about Donnie.” Dean nodded toward his wife.

  Bess looked apologetic. “Just that when we were kids, he blamed us a lot for things he did, and the adults always believed him. Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. He was definitely a brat. He has finally become a little more responsible because he quit drinking after he was accused of that murder,” Max said.

  Lil spread butter on her second piece of coffee cake. “In the interest of full disclosure, when we were at my son Terry’s last fall, a real body also turned up at a haunted house fund raiser sponsored by the bank that he works at.”

  “That’s incredible,” Bess said. “I hadn’t heard about that.”

  “So what’s taking you so long to solve these murders? I mean, since you have all this experience.” Dean winked at them.

  “Just gathering the facts, sir. Just the facts.” Max grinned. “I assume that Erik and his brother stand to inherit quite a bit, but aren’t they already pretty well-off in their own right?”

  “Sure,” Bess said.

  “Of course, that’s not always enough for some people,” Max added.

  “I can understand that family may always be suspect in a case like this, but what about Peter DeVries? They would gain nothing from his death.”

  “What about that guy Harry?” Lil asked. “Dean took me by Peter’s house this morning on the way to the bakery, and Harry was snooping around the flower beds that were torn up yesterday.”

  Bess got up and refreshed her coffee. “I know Harry was very interested in the Semper Augustus tulip, and it would definitely make him rich, but on the other hand, what motive would he have to kill Helen?”

  “Maybe there’s no connection,” Max said. “Maybe Helen’s death was an accident.”

  “Who said ‘there’s no such thing as coincidence’?” Dean said.

  “Groucho Marx.” Max smirked.

  “He did not,” Bess said.

  “It sounds like him.”

  “Anyway, Erik insisted that Helen could not have accidentally fallen in the canal,” Lil said. “Seems like if he was the murderer, he would want everyone to think it was an accident.”

  “Let’s think about Peter’s murder. What do we know?” Max grabbed a notepad, sprinkled along the top edge with delicate sketches of violets, from the center of the table.

  “Harry said he saw Peter about 6:30 that morning walking toward the mill. He must have been headed for the race start,” Bess said.

  Max made a note on the pad. “That does two things. It gives a parameter for the time of Peter’s death. It also gives Harry opportunity.”

  “What time were we at the mill when you found the body?” Lil asked. “Did you notice?”

  Dean puffed out his cheeks and blew out through his lips. “Well, I usually take the first paying tours through at 9:00, and I think we started a little after 8:00. So 8:30, maybe?”

  “Hey, we paid!” Max said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I mean organized groups.” He grinned.

  “What about Erik? Do you know what time that clinic opens?” Lil asked.

  “Yes,” Bess said. “Eight a.m. I’ve had appointments a couple of times then.”

  “If Harry’s reported sighting is accurate, Peter was killed between six thirty and eight thirty. Both Harry and Erik had opportunity, as far as we know.” Max scribbled on the pad. “Do we know how he was killed?”

  “Not for sure,” Dean said. “I didn’t see any signs of a gunshot wound but there a crease or dent on the back of his head, like maybe he was bludgeoned. The police of course, aren’t talking.”

  “How would anyone get into the mill, though, to dump the body? Isn’t it locked?”

  Dean nodded. “Normally it is, so that tourists have to come in through the museum and buy tickets. But it is unlocked when a delivery of grain is scheduled, and that was supposed to happen Saturday morning.”

  “Who does that?” Lil asked.

  “Ben Barnes. I imagine the police have already talked to him.”

  “And once he unlocks it, he stays there until the grain is delivered?”

  “He’s supposed to. He’ll be at the cheese market this afternoon. I’ll ask him what he did.”

  Max made a few more notes on the pad. “Getting back to Harry. His mother was Detective Wilkins’ teacher, right? And Wilkins obviously has a lot of respect for her. I wonder if he will be objective enough to consider Harry a suspect?”

  “He’s very professional,” Dean said. “I really can’t imagine Charles letting that interfere with his investigation.”

  “So Erik and Harry seem like viable suspects, except Harry doesn’t have a motive for Helen’s murder and Erik doesn’t have a motive for Peter’s murder,” Lil said.

  “As far as we know,” Bess put in.

  “Yes, as far as we know. What about your friend James?” Lil asked. “He keeps popping up and seems kind of creepy to me.”

  “James?” Dean said. “I can’t think of a motive.”

  Lil looked a little embarrassed. “I guess I want him to be a suspect because he makes me uncomfortable.”

  Max frowned at her. �
�That probably won’t hold up in court.”

  A beep sounded and Bess got up to take the cake out of the oven. She set it on the counter to cool.

  “So what would you like to do today?” she asked Max and Lil. “I need to take this to the Bakkes in about half an hour but otherwise I’m free.”

  “I definitely am not going to need lunch after all this,” Lil said. “What time is the cheese market? I would like to see that.”

  “It starts at noon,” Dean said. “What about you, Hopalong?”

  “You aren’t as funny as you think,” Max said, but with a smile. “I would really like to see the cheese market, but I don’t think I’ll try anything else.”

  Bess looked at her watch. “How about this? We leave here in about an hour, drop the cake off at the Bakkes, and go to the cheese market. Dean can drop us off right at the end of the street with the wheel chair and then go park. We’ll come back here afterwards and if you wish, Lil, we can take in a couple of the garden tours before supper.”

  “I have to do all of the work,” Dean grumbled.

  “That’s as it should be,” Max said.

  Chapter Ten

  Dean pulled up in front of the Hans Bakke residence for the second time in twenty-four hours. “It looks like you’re going to have to run the gauntlet.”

  Standing on the sidewalk were Darcy Dugan and her cameraman, who held a small mirror for her while she fluffed her hair. They were apparently lying in wait for any unsuspecting interviewees.

  Bess got out with a peach bundt cake dusted with powdered sugar.

  “I’m very good at ignoring people when I want to. I’ll be right back.”

  True to her word, she breezed past Darcy Dugan and headed up the walk to the Bakke house. She left them standing on the public sidewalk looking like a couple of kids who didn’t get invited to a birthday party.

  “Apparently they’ve been warned to stick to public property,” Dean said.

  They watched Darcy and her cameraman fidgeted around trying to look important and briefly discussed other annoying habits of local news media people.

  “Here comes Bess,” Lil said. They looked toward the front door, but Bess was stopped by a woman who had followed her out.

  “That’s Hans’ wife, Anna,” Dean said.

  The two women appeared to be involved in a very intense discussion with lots of head-shaking and ending with a hug. Bess continued down the walk toward the car, again ignoring the media.

  “Well!” she said, as she got in the back seat with Lil. “That was interesting.”

  “So, spill,” Max said. “What was that about?”

  “Erik Bakke found out on Thursday that Peter DeVries was his biological father.”

  Silence hung heavy in the car as each of the four processed this information.

  Bess finally continued. “Remember I told you that Helen was a very beautiful and bright young woman and was a student of Peter’s?”

  “Right,” Max said.

  “Anna said that Helen was engaged to Adrian Bakke, but had a little fling with Peter and got pregnant. Adrian assumed the baby was his, and they went ahead with the wedding. Later, when he found out about the affair, he got Peter fired, but the reason was kept hushed up and Peter was allowed to resign. Peter always said the reason he left was that he wanted to be free to get his own patents instead of letting the college get all of the profit.”

  “How did Erik find out? Did Peter tell him?” Lil asked.

  “No, Erik and Hans became interested in genealogy and had their DNA done. When they got the results this past week, it showed they had different fathers. They confronted Helen, and she admitted what had happened.”

  “Wow,” Max said. “So maybe Erik did have a motive to get rid of Peter. Did Anna say how he took the news?”

  Bess shook her head. “She just gave me the basics. But I thought of something else. Remember yesterday when we were in Erik’s office, and I asked him how his mother had taken the news about Peter’s death? He seemed offended that I even asked and brushed me off. Said he would talk to her about it at supper.”

  “Yes,” Lil said. “You even commented at the time how odd it was.”

  “It just wasn’t the reaction I expected from him. But if he was angry about the paternity thing, that would explain it.”

  Dean started the car and pulled away from the curb. “We’d better go if you’re going to see the cheese market. You can continue your investigating later.”

  “We could be Dean’s Angels.” Bess struck a pose with her clasped hands pointing upward as a simulated gun.

  “Ha!” Max said. “We might need to slim our silhouettes a bit before we have our picture taken.”

  Lil laughed. “That’s what Photoshop is for. But, seriously, this week must be incredibly traumatic for Helen’s sons.”

  “You’re right. This has all made me so anxious, I guess I was attempting a kind of gallows humor.”

  The group in the car was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, for the ride downtown. Dean pulled up to a sawhorse barricade, and got out to remove the wheelchair from the back. Lil and Bess helped Max out of the car and into the chair.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I find a parking place,” Dean said.

  “We’ll get seats at end of the bleachers and just pull Max up next to us,” Bess said. “Do you have your phone? I’ll give you a call to tell you where to find us.”

  Dean saluted. “Will do. Jeeves over and out.” He got back in the car and Lil pushed the wheelchair toward rows of temporary bleachers lining the street.

  After a short search, Bess found several seats on end of the second row of a section of bleachers with room for the wheel chair along side. She called Dean. “We’re straight across from the pharmacy, near the fountain.”

  Waiting for the market demonstration to start, Lil stared in fascination at the semi-organized mayhem going on. Men in white pants and shirts and different colored straw hats mingled among wooden platforms with great wheels of cheese stacked on them.

  “The color of their hats tells what company they’re with,” Bess explained. “They are the porters and their job is to carry the cheeses on those sled-like things for weighing and delivery to the buyers.”

  “Look, there’s your friends.” Bess nodded toward the Channel 17 pair. They were filming the cheese market and interviewing participants. “They must have given up on the Bakkes.”

  “I bet they’re just getting this footage in case they can’t get anything really juicy,” Max said. “Or they can use it as backdrop for blatant speculation.”

  Dean soon joined them and the cheese market ritual began. Porters carried the cheeses on the colorful sleds, suspended by straps from their shoulders. Price negotiations were carried out between buyers and sellers through a series of shouts and hand claps.

  “This is fascinating,” Lil said. “I have no idea what’s actually being decided but that doesn’t make it any less interesting. Almost like a dance.”

  “Don’t say dance,” Max said, pointing at her foot.

  Dean waved at a man standing off to the side who appeared to be directing the participants. “That’s Ben Barnes, the man who was supposed to be waiting for the grain delivery yesterday. I’ll go over, and when he has a break, ask him what happened.” He let himself down off the end of the bench and made his way through the crowd.

  The women continued to watch the reenactment. When it ended, Max asked Bess where the cheeses could be purchased.

  “We’ll stop at one of the markets on our way home,” Bess promised.

  Dean returned from his snooping. The crowd was disbursing around them, so he lowered his voice. “A local farmer, Stan Gunder, made the delivery Saturday. Stan just had shoulder surgery and couldn’t do any lifting, so he went to get a cup of coffee while Ben unloaded the grain bags. Right after Stan left, Ben got a call from someone who said they had sideswiped his car by accident but wouldn’t leave their name. He went to check it out but didn’t f
ind anything. When he got back, he unloaded the grain, Stan returned and drove off, and Ben locked the doors. Of course, he told the police all of this.”

  “But what about the bag with the body in it? That couldn’t have been there before he left,” Max said.

  “There was a bag on the hook ready to be raised. Someone frequently does that the night before. He didn’t examine the bag when he returned—just assumed it was the same one. Obviously it was not. Of course it was out of shape compared to the regular grain bags, but who would think of a body?”

  “So that answers the question of how the murderer got the body into the mill,” Lil said. “What time did Ben unlock the door?”

  “A little after 8:00 a. m. He said the delivery was supposed to be at 8:15. He always makes sure there is a bag on the hoist in time for the 9:00 tour. But sometimes there’s already one there, like that day. He said the police are trying to find a witness who saw someone besides Ben and Stan around the mill at that time. Well, I’ll go get your chariot, ladies, if you will meet me back at the barricade. By the way, it wouldn’t hurt if you would mention to my wife how lucky she is to have me.” He tipped his ball cap and was off.

  Lil said to Bess. “He really is a nice guy. I’m glad we got to know him better on this trip.”

  Bess smiled. “He has his moments.”

  Once they returned home and had Max settled on the patio with reading material and an adult beverage, Dean took Rosie out for a walk. The dog hesitated before heading to the door, looking at her mistress as if Max had forgotten her true purpose in life. “Go with Dean,” Max said. “I promise he won’t bite.” But she looked at Dean with raised eyebrows.

  “Not this time,” Dean said, and off they went.

  Lil and Bess decided to walk to the nearby city tulip garden. When they reached the entrance, Lil stopped to take in the view.

  “The color is just stunning. I don’t know where to start.”

  The bright beds of tulips were accented by blossom laden flowering crabs and red buds. Small arbors sheltered welcoming seats and other benches waited in the warm sun. Brick paths led in all directions from the entrance.