Yesterday's Shadow: A Lacey Summers Mystery

by Curry, Edna

  “Here we go,” she said at last. “This CD has the files on the paintings and lithographs.”

  “But they’re dated two years ago.”

  “So? Antiques aren’t dated like milk. In fact, the older they are, the better.”

  “There’s one purchase of a The Lone Wolf print, from Highman Antiques, in Mankato.”

  “Here’s another from a household auction near Chaska. And another from an auction near St. Cloud. Good Gosh!”

  “Yes, Henry bought and sold a dozen of those over the years. Mom always kidded him about liking that picture because he was a ‘lone wolf’ himself.”

  “Maybe so. But if he had bought and sold others, why suddenly ask us for this information now? What was different about this sale?”

  She shrugged. “All I know is what he said in the letter, that his buyer wanted to know more about it. But he said ‘urgent,’ and for Uncle Henry, that was very unusual.” She frowned at the screen. “None of this stuff is dated recently. I don’t see any entries within the last month here.”

  “Try this CD. It’s labeled ‘April.’”

  “It’s still empty.” She frowned. “Either he just labeled it and hadn’t yet put anything on it, or...”

  “Or it’s been erased,” Mark said grimly. “Maybe the killer knew about Henry and his computer.”

  “But who? That would narrow the possibilities quite a bit. There aren’t too many people in this little town who know how to use this older computer program.”

  “Henry liked to brag about it. He told all of the guys in our card group. He probably bragged to other dealers or customers, or...or anybody. Remember that Henry probably dealt with more people from out of town than he did with people who live here. You don’t know them all. Look at how long I knew him, but we never met.”

  “True. But that wouldn’t mean they would know how to erase these files. You use a computer but didn’t know how to use this program.”

  “But anyone with the same kind of computer would know. It’s a common enough brand, just an older one, and it’s especially user-friendly with all these menus. With a little time anyone could have figured it out. He might have even been a friend.” At the look of horror on her face, he added, more gently, “Well, former friend, of course. Until we can be sure who it is or what he wanted, we’re only guessing. What else can we do at this point? Try another CD; we’ll keep looking.”

  Hours slipped by until Mark remarked that it was noon. Nothing they had seen on the screen had seemed to be unusual, or related in any way to what Henry had asked them to look for. They were at a dead end.

  They locked the shop and went across the street to the Flame to meet Ben for lunch.

  As they ate, Ben told them what he had pieced together of Henry’s last hours.

  Every detail of Friday seemed to have been covered in his inquiries of the townspeople. But there seemed nothing unusual in Henry’s activities. He had joined the usual coffee group of men at the Flame for breakfast, tended his shop all forenoon. Ben had talked to several people who had had morning coffee with him, and several more who had been in the shop that morning, including Old Buster, Sam, Jerry, Dave, Jake and Mrs. Evans.

  “But I tried several times to call him on Friday at the shop,” Lacey said. “There was no answer.”

  “But remember the phone was still plugged into the modem,” Mark pointed out. “Henry hadn’t unplugged it. He had only one phone line. You can’t just leave the computer plugged in and use the phone, too. He probably hadn’t learned all the little tricks to using it yet.”

  “So that’s why I got no answer.”

  Everyone said the same thing: that he had talked of the usual things, ate at his usual time and place. He had closed the shop around eleven telling Mrs. Evans he “had to see a man about a horse,” which everyone understood as his standard joke meaning, “I don’t want to tell you.”

  He had returned to town about four, stopping at the Flame for pie and coffee. He didn’t mention anything unusual to the people he talked to there. Then he opened his shop again until six. No one had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

  Mr. Barker, who had the hardware store next door to Henry’s shop reported that Henry’s ‘closed’ sign was out and his door’s shade pulled down when Mr. Barker locked his door at the usual time of six o’clock.

  Everything was business as usual. Yet that same evening someone had reason to murder him. Had the murderer gotten in before Henry closed for the day? Or was it someone Henry knew and he had let him in after closing hours?

  Since Henry usually went home to his cabin for supper, and usually spent a quiet evening at home, no one had missed him that evening. His pick-up truck had been parked in the rear, as usual, to leave the parking spaces on main street open for customers to use.

  Even if someone had noticed his truck there late that night they wouldn’t have thought it unusual, since Henry, as a bachelor who had to answer to no one, kept irregular hours.

  Lacey was only too aware of the curious glances of the other townspeople in the restaurant as they ate and talked.

  The murder was sensational news, and not everyone cared about sparing Lacey’s feelings as they stopped by her table and attempted to find out more details. Soon Lacey had enough, and begged to be excused.

  Ben promised to keep in touch, and Lacey went over to Jerry and Elaine’s house to spend the rest of the day with relatives.

  Their little yellow rambler’s yard was neatly raked and the grass was already green, although she saw a last patch of snow under the evergreens along the north side. The spring rains would soon wash even that last reminder of winter away.

  Elaine answered the door, looking more harried than usual. Lacey felt sorry for the young girl. She was a nice person, open and friendly. But being suddenly thrust into being hostess to her mother-in-law and lots of drop-in company along with a small baby was enough to throw anyone into a tizzy.

  “Come in, Lacey,” she said over the loud screams of the baby in her arms. She brushed back her tousled red hair with her hand. “Make yourself at home while I change Jimmy so he’ll shut up. Kate’s in the kitchen.”

  Lacey saw that Kate had taken charge with her usual overabundance of energy and efficiency. She was as neat as Elaine was unkempt, her still blonde hair upswept in a neat do, which smacked of a professional hand. She was dressed in an expensive brown traveling suit that shouted class and money.

  She greeted Lacey with a warm but absentminded hug, and scolded her for missing church that morning.

  Lacey explained about the burglar, and the sheriff’s early visit, and then had to answer questions on all the details.

  “Is there any coffee on? I had to escape the gossips at the Flame before I got my second cup,” Lacey commented. “I left Ben and Mark to cope with their questions.”

  “Humph, they won’t get anything out of Ben,” Kate sniffed. “I know him. What’s this Mark like? Did you like him? Elaine tells me he’s good-looking, and he’s renting the cabin next to Henry’s. What does he do?”

  “He teaches history at the U, Mom. And yes, he’s nice looking, but don’t go on one of your matchmaking trips again.”

  “I don’t go on ‘trips.’ And must you always wear pants?” Kate fussed, taking a mug from the rack on the wall and pouring Lacey a cup of coffee. “If you dressed up more, I wouldn’t have to worry about you so much. I thought that maybe the Twin Cities would change you a bit. Take some of the tomboy out of you.” She returned to her seat at the table and carefully smoothed her skirt.

  “I wear suits to the office every day, Mom. I like to relax a bit at home.”

  “I do hope you brought a proper dark dress for the funeral, at least.”

  “No. I didn’t even know about Uncle Henry when I left the Twin Cities.”

  “Didn’t know! Didn’t anyone call you?” Kate exclaimed in consternation.

  “We tried. The operator said her phone was out of order,” Elaine defended herself an
d her absent husband, returning with a now quiet baby on her hip.

  So then, of course, Lacey had to tell the whole story of her apartment burglary to both of them, as they exclaimed and asked questions. Once again, she left out the part about the lacy under things. She just didn’t feel up to another of her mother’s lectures on the dangers of living alone in a large city. She answered as best she could, then got up for more coffee, though she was feeling restless enough without more caffeine.

  Lacey sipped her coffee, then did the dishes for Elaine. As usual, she felt out of place here. Kate was busy playing with her new grandson and Elaine was busily straightening the house so it would be free of its usual clutter of toys when the customary visitors arrived.

  Soon many friends and neighbors arrived with numerous offerings of food and sympathy. Kate was Henry’s only sister and nearest relative, so she and her stepson’s home were the focal point of the local people’s attention.

  The afternoon slipped by fast. Lacey enjoyed seeing and talking to people she hadn’t seen for a while, but soon found it emotionally exhausting. Her mind kept straying to the questions about Henry’s death and the intruder the night before. She found herself often suspiciously wondering which of their visitors might know more than they admitted, or even which of them might be the killer looking for more information on whatever it was he (or she) wanted, or to find out how much the police knew about the murder.

  Because, she remembered, Ben had said last night’s efforts might mean that the murderer hadn’t gotten whatever he wanted the night of the murder. And might try again to get it.

  She smiled and talked and drank more coffee, but at the back of her mind throughout every conversation was the question, “Is this person involved? And what could they possibly want?”

  Late in the afternoon one of her high-school friends, Marion Sanderson, who now worked at the local dress shop, arrived to chat, having heard through the grapevine that Lacey was there.

  Seeing Marion reminded Kate that Lacey had no suitable dark-colored dress for the funeral, as Kate quickly informed Marion.

  “Mom, the shop is closed today,” Lacey protested. “I can come into town in the morning.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll open the shop. I have a key,” Marion said.

  “Go on before she changes her mind,” said Kate, shooing them off.

  Lacey was more than happy to comply. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Marion?”

  “Of course not. I can see you’d had about your limit of people, there.”

  “You’re so right about that. I’m exhausted.”

  They gratefully left the house, and she and Marion spent a relaxing hour chatting at the dress shop. She allowed Marion to outfit her suitably in a pencil slim navy dress that was surprisingly attractive on her in spite of its simplicity. Or maybe because of it. The dress emphasized the lovely young body inside it instead of calling attention to itself.

  Lacey really cared little for convention, but bowed to the necessity of following it. Actually, she told herself, Henry would have preferred her in one of her bright sun-dresses. Or her jeans and a pretty blouse. He had often commented on how cheerful and vivacious she looked in them, and how that kept him feeling young.

  Marion put the navy dress in a brightly flowered paper bag and handed it to her.

  Reluctantly, Lacey took her leave.

  The cabin was isolated and it was of course, easier for people to express their sympathy in town, so Lacey could be alone out there. She drove back out into the now lovely evening, enjoying the tranquil view of a reddening western sky across the lake with its rim of trees and cabins. A beautiful sunset should mean nice weather tomorrow, she told herself. Why couldn’t the rain have held off last night? Would she be disturbed again tonight?

  She looked around the cabin nervously for signs that the intruder might have returned while she had been in town for the day. Nothing seemed out of place or disturbed.

  Amazingly, the phone worked again, in spite of Ben’s comment that it would have to wait until tomorrow. The broken lock on the window had been replaced. Evidently Ben’s influence had gotten results fast. Her heart warmed at that comforting evidence of small-town caring and protection.

  Although, there would be nothing to stop the intruder from cutting the wires a second time if he chose to return, she reminded herself with a nervous shudder. He wouldn’t scare so easily the second time.

  She fed Scamp and warmed up some of the casserole Kate had insisted she take with her for her supper. Then, feeling exhausted, she lay down on the bed to relax. She would have loved to have stayed there.

  But there was the wake, or ‘visitation’ as they called it here, to be gotten through yet tonight. She would just close her eyes for a few minutes.

  She awoke with a scream. Someone was shaking her arm. Opening her eyes, she saw Mark’s angry blue ones.

  She sat up quickly, at once acutely conscious of his virile body leaning over her.

  Chapter 6

  “Mark! How did you get in here?” Lacey exclaimed.

  “Through the unlocked front door. After last night I would think you would be more careful,” he scolded.

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she glared. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock before walking in people’s houses?”

  “I did knock. When you didn’t answer, I tried the door. When it opened, I was afraid I wasn’t the first to find out that it was unlocked.”

  She pushed back the hand-crocheted afghan and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. He was right, of course. She was being careless, even with Scamp nearby. And Mark was much too close again, her pulse was telling her. She tried to keep her voice even. “Why did you come over, anyway?”

  “To drive you to town and back for the visitation. I don’t like the idea of your driving these country roads alone at night.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

  “I know, Lacey,” he said gently. “But I want to. Come on. It’s almost time for you to be at the funeral home. I’ll wait down in the living room while you get ready to go.”

  His determined voice left no room for argument. She glared at his back as he walked out and closed her bedroom door behind him.

  In fact, she welcomed his escort on the lonely, dark country roads, whether she would admit it or not. As they drove along, their headlights made only a small, narrow yellow tunnel between the thick wall of evergreens. The stars were tiny and far away, and only served to emphasize their isolation and loneliness.

  Lacey was only too aware of the warm masculine body on the seat next to her, but he chatted normally, as if her nearness made no difference at all to him. She wondered if she would ever figure this man out. One minute he was cold and impersonal and proper, the next he was undressing her with his eyes and she could swear there were deep feelings of desire in them. Could she get past the proper veneer of the man? She shook herself, reminding herself of what had happened the last time she had allowed a man to get close to her.

  It seemed a long evening. Henry looked like a stranger laid out in the gray steel casket in his blue pin-striped suit. Lacey had seldom seen him wearing that Sunday suit when he was alive, and it looked wrong, false and pretentious for him to be wearing it now.

  A dozen colorful fresh floral bouquets surrounded him, standing like soldiers on guard in stiff formality on either side of the casket.

  Nearly everyone in the business community in town stopped by the casket, paying their respects to one of their own, and milling about the formal room in quiet groups. Most of them still seemed in a state of shock, unable to believe such a thing could happen in their quiet little town.

  Relatives she hadn’t seen for years had come to town, and she was soon exhausted, repeating the same details over and over, although somehow the telling of it seemed to assuage some of her pain. Kate and Jerry bore the brunt of the questions, and they both seemed to be holding up well.

  Just then Mark appeared bes
ide her, possessively taking her arm. “I think Kate is ready to leave, now,” he said.

  “Do you mind if we don’t go right back? I really should spend a bit of time with Aunt Lydia. She has to fly back to California tomorrow night.”

  “Why not?”

  Mark accompanied her, Kate and Lydia to the Flame where they spent an hour talking about family things over coffee.

  Lacey was amazed that Mark could be so interested in Kate and her sister’s family reminisces.

  “I’d be interested in anything that tells me more about you,” he said seriously as they drove back to the cabin.

  “But most of the things they talked about happened so long ago, when I was only a child.”

  “And a tomboy, too,” he teased. “Can you still climb a weeping willow tree? Or a wind charger?”

  “If I had a good reason to.”

  “Hmm. Then I’d better not give you a reason. What is a wind charger, anyway?”

  Lacey laughed. “It’s a primitive version of the wind power they use today. A metal frame tower with a wheel on top whose blades were turned by the wind. The power was sent to a bank of large batteries in the farmhouse basement. From there, it powered the house lights and appliances. At a lower voltage than they use nowadays, of course. But it did the job before the government’s REA came through and made it all obsolete.”

  “REA?” He frowned, then laughed. “Of course, I remember now. Rural Electric Association. It used tax money to bring electricity to the rural areas where the electric companies wouldn’t go before because the costs of miles of wires and poles was too high.”