by Sandra Balzo
‘But no Pauly?’
‘Nope. And not on the cameras on the surrounding buildings either. It’s possible he jumped a train without a ticket, of course.’
‘You said the stolen car was a Chrysler?’
‘Yes.’ He hit a few keys. ‘And you, my dear, know the owner. Dark green Chrysler belonging to Gloria Goddard. Report filed Monday afternoon by Oliver—’
‘Benson.’ Small world, indeed. ‘Well, that sucks. Gloria had a stroke, which is why she’s at the manor in the first place, and now her car was stolen?’
‘From the rehab wing,’ Pavlik said, nodding. ‘She and Benson used the car on Sunday—’
‘To come to Uncommon Grounds.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ Pavlik made a note. ‘You do have a finger on the pulse of this town.’
‘Only the arteries that run by my coffeehouse.’ I settled on the chair across from him. ‘Are you back on the case?’
‘Not officially, no.’ He punched some keys.
‘But you talked to Hallonquist.’ I gestured at the folder next to the computer.
‘One of my friends on the Milwaukee PD, since the train station is there. I decided I’d be putting Hallonquist in a bad position by asking him to keep me updated. I’m his boss – or at least was – so he’d feel an obligation even if he was instructed not to.’
‘You think he’s been instructed not to?’ I asked.
‘It’s an ongoing investigation. More than one ongoing investigation. Pauly Andersen is one case, then there’s Taylor’s suicide, and also the question of whether the shoot-out at the manor was reckless.’
‘You didn’t start that – Pauly did. And you had evacuated people from the surrounding apartments. What were you supposed to do? Let him go?’
‘I know. But a complaint has been filed so they have to investigate it.’
I frowned. ‘Who complained?’
‘Well, that’s another interesting thing,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Vickie LaTour.’
‘Who happens to be Jack Andersen’s girlfriend.’
‘Which I only know because you told me. And I thank you for that.’
‘It’s what I do.’ I was chewing on this new information. ‘Do you think Jack put her up to it?’
‘I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.’
‘But Vickie is my friend,’ I said. ‘Why would she do this?’
‘I doubt that she’s thinking of it as something she’s doing to you. And even if she is, she wouldn’t be the first woman Jack Andersen convinced to abandon her friends as well as her scruples.’
‘Geez, what’s this guy got?’ I asked. ‘I just don’t see it. The only things in his face that move are his eyes. And you should have seen them change when I challenged him.’
‘You obviously pushed the right buttons. If you were one of his “ladies,” he’d make that seem to be your fault.’
Like an abuser, who only hit you because you asked for it. ‘And revert to charming, I suppose. Until the next time.’
‘Exactly.’
I’d seen the chameleon-like change in the man. ‘Could he be abusing her? Physically, I mean?’
‘It’s not his M.O. but there are other methods of abuse. Isolating somebody from their friends, for one.’
Or turning her against them. ‘Do you think that’s the leverage he thinks he has on you? Vickie’s complaint?’
‘Petty stuff for a guy like Andersen. Besides, a complaint would be public record. What’s there to expose?’
‘I don’t know, but he said I had a glass house problem and he had rocks.’
Pavlik’s lips twitched. ‘He really said that?’
‘He did.’ I got up and opened the kitchen cabinet. ‘Glass of wine?’
He nodded. I poured two glasses and handed one to Pavlik. ‘For what it’s worth, Hannah Bouchard likes Jack Andersen about as much as I do. Says he insinuates himself in situations and she’s absolutely right.’
‘What do you mean?
‘For example, he offered to come to the lawyer with her instead of me. Who does that?’
‘A con man.’
I’d been about to take a sip of wine but stopped mid-air. ‘You think he’s decided Hannah is a better mark than Vickie?’
‘From what you’ve said, she’s got money – or will, once she gets hold of it. That’s one of his pre-requisites.’
‘But Hannah is probably in her early forties. If Mort is twenty years older, tack on another ten or fifteen for Jack.’
‘Age-appropriateness is not one of his requirements. One of his victims was in her thirties.’
Yikes. ‘I guess at least he’d leave Vickie alone.’ And likely heartbroken.
‘And destroy Hannah instead.’
‘True. Though I think she’s more able to take care of herself. Besides, Vickie is a friend.’
Pavlik’s eyebrows went up. ‘I thought Hannah was a friend, too.’
‘A very new friend, so if I had to rank her on my concern-o-meter she’d have to be below Vickie.’
The sheriff grinned. ‘Good thing you didn’t go into law enforcement. You’d have to serve and protect people you didn’t even know.’
‘Oh, I would if I swore to.’ I looked over his shoulder. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘Checking the layouts of the bus station and adjoining buildings to see if we missed something.’
‘Somewhere he could have disappeared to.’ I sat down. ‘Didn’t you say the Milwaukee police are on this?’
‘They are, but I can provide an extra brain and set of eyes. I’ve studied Pauly and—’
My phone rang but I sent it to voicemail. ‘Sorry.’
‘Anyway, the MPD is happy to have me helping and it gives me something to do, which makes me happy.’
‘And me.’ I reached across the table and put my hand on his mouse. Which was where his hand was. ‘I—’
The phone rang again and this time I glanced at the readout. ‘Christy – both times.’ Then, ‘Hi, Christy,’ I said into it.
‘Maggy, did you hear? It’s just the saddest thing. Nancy Casperson has died.’
‘Died of what? I just saw her this morning.’
Pavlik’s chin gestured, What’s going on?’
I lifted my shoulders.
‘I know you did, which is why I was sure you’d want to know. Hannah brought Nancy home after your meeting and then ran over to see Mort about the funeral expenses and all. When she got home an hour later, Nancy was dead.’
‘She died in her sleep?’
‘Yes, isn’t it awful? Just like Celeste. Déjà vu.’
Or a horror version of the movie Groundhog Day. Except at Hannah’s house, fewer and fewer people were waking up each morning.
TWENTY
‘So, Hannah finds out she can’t remove Nancy as trustee, at least easily. A few hours later, Nancy is dead.’
We’d moved on to the second course of our meal, from the wine to peanut butter sandwiches.
‘Convenient, but maybe too much so.’
I stopped smoothing my chunky spread onto the bread. ‘Too obvious, you mean?’
‘I mean she’d have to be an idiot to kill Nancy and think she’ll get away with it.’ Pavlik appropriated the knife and jar of Skippy from me. ‘Is she?’
‘I don’t think so. But she is desperate.’ I gestured at his sandwich – more a mutilated piece of bread. ‘Can I please help you with that? Spreading peanut butter one-handed is not working.’
‘Fine.’ He passed the peanut butter to me and I took his plate. ‘You don’t have any Jif, do you?’
Jif brand peanut butter, instead of Skippy? Sacrilege. What was next? Pepsi over Coke? Decaf over regular?
But I just said, ‘Sorry, no.’
‘Or cracked wheat bread?’
Them’s fighting words. ‘Peanut butter on cracked wheat? That’s un-American.’
‘Not for this American,’ Pavlik said, getting up and swinging open the refrigerator door.
‘You have any decaffeinated Diet Pepsi?’
‘Nooooooo …’
Frank raised his head and then cocked it, the doggy version of, What the hell are you doing?
Pavlik just asked, ‘Was it something I said?’
‘No, I’m fine. And I don’t have any Diet Pepsi that’s de—’ I choked on the word, ‘decaffeinated. But I can get some, if you like.’
‘Nah.’ Pavlik sat back down with a Diet Coke and popped it open one-handed. ‘I just wanted to see what you’d say.’
I passed his sandwich of Chunky Skippy on white bread, thank you very much, to him. ‘That was mean.’
‘But kind of fun.’ He put his hand over mine. ‘I know that two people of our ages thinking about blending households … it isn’t an easy thing.’
‘But,’ I ran my index finger down his palm, ‘it’s kind of fun.’
‘I did mention to Pavlik,’ I said to Sarah the next morning, ‘that—’
‘Wait,’ she said, waving a dishtowel in my face, ‘was this before or after sex?’
‘Who said we had sex?’ I snatched the towel.
‘Your face.’ She snatched it back. ‘And your laid-back vibe.’
‘I’m always laid back.’ I opened the dishwasher and started to load in the dirty cups from the morning rush hour.
‘That’s clean,’ Sarah said.
‘Oops, guess we’d better run it again.’ I added soap, closed the door and pushed the power button.
‘See?’
‘See what?’
‘See how chill you are. Non-sated Maggy would have been ticked off at whoever didn’t empty it, then ticked off at herself, for not checking before she put in the dirty cups.’
‘I—’
Sarah held up her hand. ‘I’m not done. Then you would have debated leaving the cups and taking out the clean dishes around them. Taking out one, you’d have sighed, put it back, finally slammed the door and re-started the machine.’
‘You make me sound demented.’
‘You are.’ My partner was feeling better, with just the occasional cough to show she’d been sick. She chalked it up to the antibiotics. I just figured germs didn’t stand a chance against her.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I told Pavlik that you and I both questioned Hannah’s …’
‘Martyrdom?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He seemed more inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.’ I felt myself blush. ‘But then we kind of got off the subject and didn’t quite get back to it.’
‘I’m sorry I brought it up.’ Sarah hiked herself up on the kitchen counter.
Not sanitary practice, but what the hell.
I did the same.
‘Returning to our regular G-rated programming,’ Sarah said, ‘what does Nancy’s death mean for Holy Hannah?’
‘Poof goes the problem of accessing the trust, for one thing.’
‘That’s awfully convenient.’
‘Plus, they both died in their sleep? How lame is that?’
Sarah bobbed her head. ‘To be fair, probably a lot of old people die in their sleep. If they’re lucky.’
Since when was my partner fair? ‘You have a point, but I’m not going to give up on mine.’
‘I didn’t think you would.’
‘So Celeste dies …’
‘In her sleep …’
‘Or at least while napping,’ I continued, ‘on Sunday while Hannah is away.’
‘And the same thing happens to Nancy four days later,’ Sarah continued. ‘Also when Hannah is away again.’
‘You know,’ I said, ‘someone like Christy or Amy—’
‘Somebody with a heart?’
‘Well, yes,’ I admitted. ‘They’d say Nancy died of a broken heart.’
‘Sweet,’ Sarah said. ‘And I’m sure it happens, but it’s just too convenient. Don’t you think?’
‘I do. I asked Pavlik to see if there was an autopsy on Celeste.’
‘Will he?’
‘He would and he did. Believe me, Pavlik’s looking for anything and everything to keep him busy.’
‘And?’
‘As he suspected, there was no autopsy, given her age and all.’
‘Old people die.’
‘They do. And the body’s been cremated, so there’s no going back.’
‘What about Nancy?’
‘You mean will there be an autopsy? Yes.’
‘Then Nancy’s death is considered suspicious?’
‘Pavlik might have suggested that it might be.’ I shifted my bum on the hard counter.
‘You said he wasn’t in touch with his department. That it wasn’t fair or something I didn’t quite understand.’
‘Not fair for him to press his detectives – Hallonquist, in particular – on the shooting, which involves Pavlik and is still under investigation. He had no problem letting them know about the trust and what Hannah has to gain.’
‘Which you told him.’
‘I did.’ I couldn’t resist a satisfied smile. ‘All of a sudden, we’re like Nick and Nora, trading theories. It’s kind of nice.’
‘Don’t get used to it. He’ll be back to being sheriff and shutting you out in no time.’
I hopped down. ‘True. But right now I’m enjoying having him around.’
‘Aww.’ Sarah tipped her head. ‘Are those wedding bells I hear?’
I heard them too, except, ‘Those are my sleigh bells!’
Mort Ashbury came around the corner dangling two red ribbons with bells attached. ‘Look what I found.’
I took them. ‘Where were they?’
‘In the dumpster in the parking lot.’
Sarah slid off the counter, too. ‘What were you doing in our dumpster?’
Mort looked surprised at the abrupt question. ‘Well, I …’
‘Don’t mind Sarah,’ I said. ‘We’ve had trouble with people dumping things and then we’re charged for the removal.’
‘Get your own damn dumpster, I say,’ Sarah said.
‘Not you, Mort,’ I said. ‘I’m sure the mortuary has its own trash removal service.’
‘And who knows what you put in it,’ Sarah added.
Thankfully, Mort didn’t enlighten her. ‘To answer your first question, Sarah, I had an old to-go cup in the cup-holder in my car and dumped it to make way for the new one.’
Getting the hint, I set down the bells and picked up a cup. ‘Today’s brew is Sumatran.’
‘Sounds good,’ Mort said. ‘It’s going to be another busy day. Both the Hartsfield and Taylor services are scheduled for tomorrow.’
I assumed Pavlik would want to go. ‘They’re not at the same time, are they?’
‘No, no. The Taylor service is at one o’clock at Angel of Mercy and the Hartsfield funeral will be at four in our chapel. We knew people – especially law enforcement – would want to attend both.’
‘Christy called to tell me about Nancy,’ I said, pouring his coffee.
He sighed. ‘Another tough one. The elderly die, of course, but so soon after Celeste? It’s very hard on Hannah.’
‘I bet,’ Sarah said, the inflection somewhere in the wasteland between sympathetic and sarcastic. ‘We hear there’s an autopsy.’
‘This morning,’ Mort confirmed. ‘It’s unnecessary in my opinion, given she’d been ill and under Doctor Goode’s care. But for whatever reason, it’s been ordered.’
Pavlik and I were the whatever. ‘Is Hannah worried?’
‘I think more relieved than anything.’ He opened his wallet and took four dollars out.
Sarah’s head went up. ‘Relieved that Nancy is dead?’
‘Oh, heavens, no. That an autopsy is being done. She feels responsible, I think, and an official cause of death will give her closure. Well, thank you for this,’ he continued, picking up his cup, ‘and just put the change in the tip jar.’
‘Thank you,’ I called after him as he hurried out of the door. Then I
turned to Sarah. ‘That’s interesting.’
‘What do you mean?’ She’d picked up the dishtowel and was wiping the ring Mort’s cup had left.
‘If Hannah killed Nancy, why would she be grateful for an autopsy?’
‘Maybe she just told him that to cover her tracks. Or maybe he’s in on it and he’s just saying that.’
‘Both possible, I guess.’ I chewed on my lip. ‘It’s curious that Mort said Doctor Goode was Nancy’s doctor when she’d only seen her once. And that time, according to Hannah, only to prescribe a sedative after Celeste died.’
‘Maybe that’s all it takes.’
My phone jangled. ‘Would you please get a clean towel? You’re just smearing around coffee smooge with more coffee smooge.’
Sarah looked skyward, and then went to the backroom to do as she was told. For once.
I checked my phone and saw that it was Pavlik. ‘Hi, there.’
‘The autopsy results are back.’
‘And?’
‘And there are petechiae in the eyes.’
Small hemorrhages. ‘Nancy was strangled?’
‘Suffocated. There were no ligature marks or bruising.’
‘She’d been sick – a cold or the flu. Could congestion have caused it?’
‘Struggling to breathe causes the petechial hemorrhaging, so theoretically, yes. But there’s something else.’
Sarah had returned with a fresh cloth and held it out to me.
I punched up the speaker on the phone so Sarah could hear and mouthed, ‘Pavlik.’
‘Yes?’ I said to the sheriff. ‘You said there was something else?’
‘We – or Hallonquist and his new partner – think a pillow might have been used to smother her and there’s a pillowcase missing.’
‘The killer took the pillowcase?’
‘A yellow flowered pillowcase, according to Hannah Bouchard.’
‘Maggy,’ Sarah whispered.
I waved her off. ‘Why take the pillowcase and not the pillow?’
‘Something on it, I assume. Something that didn’t penetrate to the pillow, which was hers in the first place.’
‘So finding Nancy’s DNA on the pillow would mean nothing.’
‘Most likely.’