“Yes. He was at the . . . Yes, he’s been there forever.” She stopped talking, not wanting to mention the sore subject of the reunion.
“She mentioned that. She said he’s having trouble adjusting to the dog.”
Mike warmed her heart with his smile and topped off her wineglass with the Chianti Reserva he had selected. Its full-bodied taste was perfect with the robust Italian flavors. The candle on the table flickered and danced, helping create an intimate space where only the two of them and the table of delicious food existed.
“What does that mean? Have they never had a dog before? I don’t think they ever had children.” She forked another piece of lasagna. Yum.
Mike swirled some of his spaghetti carbonara, but didn’t take a bite. “Sounded like he might be allergic. She hasn’t had him long. He’s a tiny lap dog, teacup Chihuahua.”
“Is he cute?”
Mike shrugged and took his bite. After a bit he said, “I prefer more natural breeds. This one is neurotic.”
Chase thought a lot of Chihuahuas were neurotic. “Can you be allergic to such a tiny dog?”
“Sure. Size doesn’t matter. What got me, though, was what she was saying to me, as a perfect stranger. She brought up your reunion and how awful the murder was. Then she repeated, several times, that her husband and a business colleague were together at her house all night, so they couldn’t possibly have known anything about the killing.”
“Why would she talk about that with you?”
“The more she went on, the more I thought she was trying to convince me. And, I should add, the more I thought she was lying. Why she would need to tell me this, I don’t know.”
“Maybe,” Chase said, “she was rehearsing her story for the police.”
FIFTEEN
“Detective Olson, please.” Chase had called the station Saturday morning after the homicide detective didn’t answer his cell phone. She heard her back door opening. A minute later Anna called up the stairs that she was here. Chase ran to the top of the stairs and motioned to her that she was on the phone. Anna nodded and proceeded into the kitchen. Quincy slipped down the stairs. She would have to make sure he got into the office before they opened for business.
“Yes?”
She tried to detect his mood from that single word. He didn’t seem angry or abrupt this time. The receptionist probably told him who was calling, so that must have meant she wasn’t on his bad side at the moment.
“I talked with my friend Dr. Ramos last night. He told me that Mrs. Snelson, who owns a little tiny dog, was talking to him about her husband being with Langton Hail all night after the reunion.”
“Yes, that’s also what she told us.”
“Well, don’t you think that’s odd?”
“It’s odd that a married couple has a friend over? No, I don’t think so. Why would you?”
“But all night? It’s not something people go around saying. She’s, well, she’s protesting too much. Know what I mean?”
“Yes, I’ve read Shakespeare.” He was silent for a moment. She heard Anna humming the chorus of “Dancing Through Life” from Wicked in the kitchen as she waltzed, Chase was sure, from counter to stove to refrigerator.
“Okay, Chase,” Niles Olson said. “I agree it’s a strange thing to talk about. How well does she know Dr. Ramos?”
“Not at all. She’s a brand-new customer at his clinic.”
“I’ll make a note. Thanks for calling.”
That was a tiny bit of progress, Chase thought. There must be a guilty secret there, some fire under the smoke. It made some sense that, if Hail were too drunk to drive, he might go home with Snelson, since he lived close to the school. She needed to think this through. Later.
Right now, she needed to get to work. It was Saturday, with only a week and a half to go before Christmas. The closer the holidays got, the more people craved sweets.
The pudgy tabby was enjoying himself immensely. He didn’t usually get this much time in the kitchen in the morning. Normally, his feeder person let him downstairs, then herded him into the office straightaway. While she lingered upstairs on the phone, though, the older woman was content to let him wander the room, trolling for tidbits that hadn’t been mopped up the night before. If they were there, he couldn’t find them. Too soon, the feeding woman came downstairs and shut him into the office. He checked to make sure the paper he’d hidden was still under the desk. This room was never cleaned nearly as thoroughly as the kitchen. Otherwise, it wouldn’t still be sitting there, right where he had stuffed it.
“How was your date last night?” Anna asked, as soon as Chase took care of corralling Quincy and came to help get the day started.
“Very nice.”
“I can tell from your smile.” Anna set up a racket getting out the metal baking pans.
Chase cocked her head, recalling part of her conversation with Mike. “He said that Mrs. Snelson is one of his new customers.”
“That’s our principal’s wife? Our principal who wants to do real estate scams?”
“Yes, indeed. And he was most likely being blackmailed for that. Even so, maybe he didn’t kill Ron North. He and the little guy he was with spent the night at Snelson’s house. What about Dickie Byrd? He might be a better suspect. I doubt he’ll get elected. If even I have seen him with another woman, I’ll bet a lot of other people have, too. In fact, Ron North was probably planning on blackmailing him.” She was recalling the “BIRD” on the blackmail book. It didn’t have a dollar amount next to it, but surely it would have if Ron had lived longer.
Mallory and Inger arrived at the same time, bringing a burst of frigid air in with them from the parking lot.
Chase sniffed the air. It smelled moist, like it might snow soon.
“You’re both early,” Anna said.
“It’s been so crazy,” Inger said, “I thought I would get a head start.”
“Here are the trays of dessert bars for the case.” Anna pulled some from the refrigerator and Mallory and Inger both started carrying them to the front.
The morning wore on with a few deliveries and lots of customers. After Chase and Anna got several batches of bars baked, filling the shop with the aromas of cinnamon, lemon, and cherry—which blended surprisingly well—Chase decided to get started on payroll. Monday was the fifteenth and she would pay Mallory and Inger then.
She greeted Quincy with a head rub as he jumped up onto the desk, settling beside her keyboard. She toiled over the tax tables and state forms for an hour, then stood, ready for lunch. Quincy jumped down and dislodged a business card he’d been lying on top of.
“What’s this?” Chase bent down to pick it up. “Vita Life for a Vital Life,” she read, puzzling over it. Then she turned the card over and saw a name and room number. She remembered it now. This was the card Bart Fender had given to Julie at the reunion. Julie had handed it to Chase and Chase had ended up taking it home. Where had it been until today, a week later?
“Quincy Wincy, did you hide this somewhere? You naughty boy.” He was developing a habit of secreting away what must be treasures to him. Maybe he was part dog. Or squirrel.
Bart had told Julie that Dillon would like visitors, but the women who had been talking about her said she was in a coma. Chase remembered Dillon as a volleyball player, clean cut and always bouncy. The women said she had attempted suicide. That didn’t square with the cheerful pony-tailed blonde whom Chase remembered. Maybe she and Julie should look in on her and at least find out what was going on. Bart had said something enigmatic about her parents in the shop, too. This was a small mystery, and Chase liked to solve mysteries. She would call Julie tonight and propose they visit on Monday after Julie got home from work.
When Chase went out front so Inger could have lunch, she saw a few lazy flakes circling toward the pavement outside. She hadn’t checked a weather report for days, b
ut Mallory assured her that several inches were expected. Chase had filled a watering can in the kitchen and bent to water the poinsettias. Their leaves had started to curl slightly, so they should welcome a drink. She hoped they would stay pretty until Christmas.
“If it starts accumulating, we’ll send you home,” Chase said, looking out the windows again. “You and Inger. There’s no reason for you to have to battle the roads before they’re plowed.”
Mallory gave her a grateful smile. She had been smiling at the customers more, but Chase thought she forgot about it sometimes, especially when she was rushed and got harried.
A woman in a bright red cloth coat came in and stomped the flakes off her shiny black boots. Her nose and cheeks were almost as red as her coat. Black curly hair framed her round face. After she’d perused the goods in the case and picked out a mix of Lemon and Peanut Butter Fudge Bars, she struck up a conversation with Mallory, who had greeted the woman with a friendly smile that had been returned. Chase nodded to herself when she saw that.
“I’m so glad I found this place. We’re entertaining tonight and Van wanted a nice dessert.”
“How did you hear about us?” Mallory asked.
Chase was listening in, curious about the mention of “Van.” Was she the principal’s wife? This woman was the only customer in the store at the moment, so Chase helped bag her choices.
“I found you online,” she said. “I searched for desserts and your webpage popped up. It’s so attractive and the pictures look delicious.”
“I’ll have to let our web designer know,” Chase said. She would also let Anna know that the efforts she’d been against were paying off.
Anna hurried into the salesroom with some filled boxes to restock the dwindling supplies on the round tables.
“My husband wants to make a good impression tonight. It’s for a job.”
Chase snuck a peek at her credit card when she handed it over the counter to Mallory. Sure enough, her last name was Snelson. “Are you related to Van Snelson?” Chase asked.
She nodded, beaming with a proud smile.
“He was my principal at Hammond High,” Chase said. “I saw him at the reunion last weekend. Were you there?”
“No, no, I didn’t go. He said he would be busy talking to important people.” She frowned to emphasize how important those people were.
“He spent a lot of time with Mr. Hail, the real estate developer.”
“Yes, yes.” She brightened. “Van is going into real estate. Langton Hail has been advising him. Langton knows a lot about it. In fact, they spent the rest of the night together and Van didn’t come home until the next morning.”
Hm, that wasn’t exactly the story she had told the detective. “Is he going to resign as principal?” Chase asked.
“Oh my.” The woman’s hand flew to her cherry-red cheek. “That’s not . . . I’m not . . . He hasn’t announced anything yet.”
Anna gave Mrs. Snelson a curious glance, then retreated to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” Chase said. “I won’t tell anyone.” Except Detective Olson.
Mrs. Snelson signed the bill and took the bag Mallory handed to her. “These will be perfect. They’ll love them. I’ll be buying more soon.” She left with a cheery wave, her faux pas forgotten.
The snow was coming down thicker and the wind was picking up, swirling the flakes in mad, intricate, dizzying patterns.
Chase wished she could see a pattern that led to the real killer of Ron North.
SIXTEEN
In the next hour, so much snow fell that the street blended with the sidewalk, the curbs lost beneath the fluff. Chase and Anna sent Mallory and Inger home while the roads were still passable.
Chase flipped the sign on the front door to “Closed” and went into the kitchen. Inger was in the act of closing the outside door and Chase shivered from the gust that had come into the warm kitchen. “Anna,” she said, “you’d better go home, too.”
“Let me finish getting this—”
“No, let me finish. You need to get. Come here.”
Chase motioned her to the back door. Anna put down the flour bin she’d been about to shelve. Chase shoved the door open, moving a drift about five inches high. The wind was picking up, the snow was falling faster, and the parking lot, as well as the cars, held two to four inches.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anna said. “You’re right. This is going to amount to something.” She abandoned the cleaning-up, wrapped herself in her winter clothes, and scooted out the door.
“Call me when you get home,” Chase shouted to her departing back. Anna was a careful driver, but you never knew when someone else was going to careen into you and send your car spinning.
“I will!” Anna waved as she swiped the snow off her windshield with her gloved hand. She slipped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and the heater, and got out again. Chase watched her clear the back and side windows, then get inside again and drive away.
Chase consulted the weather on her phone. The app predicted six to eight inches. She had been right to send everyone home. She wandered into the front of the store to watch the snow fall. The lights were out inside her shop and, with the snow muffling the sounds from the street, she felt like she was in a cocoon. Quincy settled on top of the glass case, still warm from the lights beneath the glass that had been switched off a short time ago. It was rare for him to be permitted into this part of the shop and he was taking full advantage.
An elderly man passed by, wading through the deepening snow with difficulty. Chase ran to the storage closet and got out the shovel, then pulled on her coat and hat. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and patted her pockets. No gloves. Where were they? They’d been missing for a couple of days now. She dug her old gloves out of her desk drawer, but decided not to use them. They were so full of holes, they would be useless for keeping her hands warm.
When she came in from clearing the sidewalk, she felt virtuous—and cold. Her cheeks were stiff. She made a cup of steaming hot chocolate in the kitchen, as much to thaw her icy hands as to warm her insides.
Maybe everyone was being sent home early. She called Julie on the off chance that she wasn’t still at work. She wanted Julie to go with her on Monday to pay a visit to Dillon. If she wanted to go. Maybe Julie would think visiting Dillon in the hospital was a crazy idea. She didn’t answer. Probably still slaving away at her desk. Julie was too conscientious for her own good. Maybe, when she’d been at the firm longer, and when she didn’t have to worry about being a murder suspect, she would work normal hours.
Two hours later, Chase had made it upstairs and was snuggled with Quincy, watching the snow build up in the lower corners of the window panes in her balcony doors.
“This is exactly like a Christmas card, isn’t it, Quincy?”
He turned his amber eyes on her and blinked.
“You agree, don’t you?”
Traffic had slowed to an occasional vehicle passing by every five or ten minutes. Those without snow tires slid to a slow stop at the corner. All the drivers on the street seemed to have experience with winter conditions. No one slammed on brakes or fishtailed. The scene was as peaceful as a Christmas card, indeed.
Chase’s ringing phone brought her out of her reverie.
“Julie? Are you just getting out?”
Julie breathed heavily into her phone. “Yes. Finally. Jay called Gerrold and he got me out.”
Chase shot up from her chair. “What? Out of where?”
“Wait a sec. I have to help Jay scrape his windows.”
Chase heard sounds of cars and wind through the tiny speaker. Julie was outside. “Call me right back.”
When Julie called, half an hour later, she said she was at home. “I’ve never been happier to get home.”
“What happened? What’s been going on?” Chase had fretted th
e entire thirty minutes.
“I got a call at work as this snow was starting. Detective Olson told me to come to the station.”
“In this weather?”
“He doesn’t pay attention to weather, apparently.” Julie didn’t sound at all like herself. Her voice was tight and strangled.
“Go on.” Chase couldn’t imagine him being deterred by a simple snowstorm.
“He told me I’m being charged with homicide.” She sobbed on the last word.
Chase gasped. “Ron North?”
“Who else? I wouldn’t say anything to him. I called Jay right away. He had Gerrold Gustafson come by. He had some car trouble, but took a cab and got there in time for my bail hearing. Gerrold got my bail lowered and they released me.”
“Thank goodness! They really think you strangled him in the park?”
“No. He wasn’t killed there. They think he was killed in the high school parking lot, then dumped under the bush where you found him.”
“But why would they zero in on you? Just because it was your scarf?”
“And because I followed Bart out to the parking lot from the reunion.” There was a pause. “And because I told them I wasn’t out there at first.”
“Someone else saw you out there?”
“Only Ron North and Bart Fender. They were arguing about something when I got there.”
“So Bart can tell them you didn’t kill him!”
“Apparently not. The detective says Bart says he left while I was still out there.”
“Where does he say he went?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t notice when he left. I spoke five sentences to Bart, then Ron wouldn’t leave me alone. I was so spitting mad at him. I told them before that I hadn’t seen Ron there, either.”
Julie paused again. Was there even more evidence against her?
“And one more thing. I let slip something about the notebook.”
“How did you do that?” Chase’s heart plummeted. She knew they should have told the detective they had copies.
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