Strawberry Shortcake Murder hsm-2

by Joanne Fluke

  Andrea waited until Hannah had pulled around the corner, then she reached out to grab her arm. “What cuff links? Mother doesn’t collect cuff links.”

  “I know. That was just an excuse. Mason was wearing a pair of antique cuff links with ducks on them, and he said they were part of a collection that Ellen had inherited from her grandfather.”

  Andrea gasped. “You think that Mason has the horse head cuff links?”

  “No. He told me there might have been a pair like that, but Ellen sold off part of the collection about six years ago through a jeweler at the mall. If she had them and if she sold them, anyone could have bought them. It’s another dead end.”

  Andrea sighed. “Oh well. Nobody ever said this would be easy. Where are we going first?”

  “To my place. I want to change clothes and feed Moishe. If I don’t get there soon, he’ll eat my couch. Mike and I went through a couple of bags of pretzels on Wednesday night, and I haven’t had time to vacuum the crumbs. One bag was garlic, and that’s Moishe’s favorite.”

  * * *

  To say that Moishe had been glad to see them would have been a gross understatement. The moment Hannah had unlocked the door to her condo, he’d hurtled into her arms and licked her face. When that had been done to his satisfaction, he’d jumped down and raced to his empty food bowl to yowl pitifully.

  Hannah had gone straight to the kitchen to get out his food. As she’d taken off the bungee cord that held the cupboard door shut, she’d noticed that it had been chewed almost through. She’d gotten there just in time. Five minutes more and the whole kitchen floor would have been ankle deep in kitty crunchies. She’d fed Moishe, changed into more comfortable clothes, and they’d left. And now they were in the garage, preparing to climb back into Hannah’s still-warm Suburban.

  “Where are we going?” Andrea asked, opening her door.

  “Vera Olsen’s house. I want to check with her to see if she’s seen Lucy. If she says she hasn’t, I’m going to ask her if we can go up to Lucy’s apartment. We might find a clue to where she’s gone.”

  “Do you really think that Vera will let us in?” Andrea sounded doubtful.

  “Sure. Don’t sweat the small stuff, Andrea. I’ll think of some excuse when we get there.”

  It didn’t take long to drive to Vera’s house. Hannah parked on the street, and they got out of the truck.

  “Lucy’s not home,” Hannah stated, as they walked up the sidewalk to Vera’s front porch.

  “What are you, psychic?”

  Hannah laughed. “I wish. Then we’d know where Lucy is.”

  “How can you tell that she’s not home?”

  Hannah pulled Andrea back a couple of paces and pointed up at Lucy’s windows. “There’s only one light. It’s the one in the kitchen over the sink, and it was on this morning. You don’t think she’s up there sitting in the dark, do you?”

  “I guess not.” Andrea opened the porch door and they stepped inside. “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell Vera?”

  “No, I’ll let you play it by ear.”

  Andrea shot her a startled glance. “Me? Why me?”

  “Because you’re better with people than I am.” Hannah reached out to press the doorbell that was mounted on the wall next to the heavy door. “After all, you’re a real-estate agent.”

  Andrea muttered something that she never would have said in front of Tracey. And then she poked Hannah as they heard footsteps coming toward the door. “Shh! Here comes Vera.”

  Vera Olsen pulled open the door and smiled as she saw them standing on her porch. “Hannah and Andrea. What a surprise. Did Lucy send you with my cookies?”

  “Yes.” Andrea responded immediately, picking up on the cue that Vera had given her. “We didn’t bring them in because we weren’t sure you were home. Go get the cookies that Lucy gave us for Mrs. Olsen, will you, Hannah?”

  Hannah raced back to the truck as fast as she could and grabbed a bag of cookies. When she came back, she found Andrea and Vera sitting on the awful lime-colored, sectional sofas in Vera’s living room, talking like long-lost friends. Hannah figured that Vera must have gotten the furniture at a massive discount. No sane person would pay retail for that color.

  Vera smiled at Hannah, took the cookies, and waved her down to one of the bilious-colored cushions. “That’s what I mean, Andrea. Even with all the hours Lucy’s been putting in at the paper, she still remembered my cookies. Sometimes I have to complain about the mess in her apartment, but other than that, she’s a real sweet girl. I figure she’ll learn to be neater if I just keep reminding her.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Andrea gave Vera her sweetest smile, “especially since she has you to teach her. She was really concerned that we bring you your cookies before you went to bed. When did you ask for them?”

  “Yesterday morning. I have a sweet tooth, you know. I expected her to bring them last night, but she must have gotten home late.”

  “You didn’t hear her come home last night?”

  “No. She told me she had to take some pictures out at the inn, and the party must have lasted a long time. I didn’t go to bed until eleven-thirty, and I know she wasn’t home yet.”

  Hannah couldn’t keep silent. It was just too important. “You didn’t see her this morning?”

  “No, she was already gone when I went up with her breakfast. I made waffles, and they’re her favorites.”

  Hannah avoided Andrea’s eyes. Both of them knew that Vera hadn’t knocked on Lucy’s door with a plate of waffles. Hot Stuff had climbed the inside staircase to the attic to answer the e-mail she got from Silver Wolf.

  “That girl works too hard.” Vera sighed. “And she never gets enough sleep. Rod depends on her for everything, you know. She writes all the big stories, and she’s out taking pictures for the paper at all hours of the day and night.”

  Hannah bit the inside of her cheek to keep silent. The pictures that Lucy had taken certainly weren’t for Rod at the paper!

  Andrea shot Hannah a sharp glance, one that said, Keep it zipped! Then she turned to Vera again. “Lucy asked us to pick up some film for her. Is it all right if we go up to her apartment to get it?”

  “Go ahead. Use the inside staircase. Then you won’t have to go out in the cold again. She gave you her key, didn’t she?”

  Andrea turned to Hannah. “You have it, Hannah?”

  “No, I don’t.” Hannah played it with a perfectly straight face. “I thought you had it.”

  “Never mind. You can use mine.” Vera reached out, picked up a key chain from the coffee table, and handed it to Hannah. “Go upstairs and open the door at the end of the hallway. There’s another set of stairs that leads up to the attic and the light’s on a switch just inside the door.”

  Andrea thanked her and Hannah followed her up the stairs. Neither one of them said a word until they’d climbed up to the second floor and shut the hallway door behind them.

  “That was brilliant.” Hannah patted her sister on the shoulder as they started up the second, much narrower staircase.

  “Thanks.” Andrea turned to smile at Hannah over her should. “But you get to wing it if Lucy’s there. I’ve already done my part.”

  Lucy didn’t answer their knock, and Hannah used Vera’s key. She opened the door, flicked on the light, and both sisters halted, as if they’d run into an invisible wall. Someone had been in Lucy’s apartment since they’d left it this morning.

  “What happened?” Andrea gasped, staring at the mess in Lucy’s main room.

  “Somebody was searching for something,” Hannah stated the obvious, “and they didn’t straighten up after they were through.”

  The room looked as if a tornado had ripped through it the bedding had been stripped from Lucy’s bed and lay in a heap on the floor. All the drawers in Lucy’s rolltop desk had been pulled out and dumped, and film canisters with strips of ruined film protruding like long, curled tongues were scattered on the rug. Lucy’s computer was
on and a message was flashing on the screen. It read, ALL FILES ON YOUR C: DRIVE HAVE BEEN DELETED.

  “Did Lucy do this?” Andrea asked, shivering slightly.

  “Not Lucy.”

  “How do you know?”

  Hannah bent down to examine one of the gutted film canisters “Lucy would never do something like this. It would ruin all her photos.”

  “The killer!” Andrea shivered, then shuddered. “He must have been searching for the pictures that Lucy took of him. And since he couldn’t tell which film canister Lucy used, he destroyed them all.”

  “You’re quick, Andrea. And you could be right. But how did the killer know that Lucy had taken the pictures?”

  “Lucy must have told him. She must have tried to blackmail him, Hannah.”

  “That fits with what Herb told us. Lucy said that she was working on something important, and if it worked out, she’d have enough money to buy her leased car. She must have figures that Boyd’s killer would cough up big bucks for those negatives.”

  “Lucy should have known better. I really didn’t think she’d be so foolish.”

  “Not foolish, stupid,” Hannah corrected her. “Really stupid.”

  “Do you think that the killer…?” Andrea stopped speaking and steadied herself against the wall. She seemed unable to voice that possibility. It didn’t matter. Hannah knew exactly what she meant.

  “That’s one theory, Andrea, but it’s just a theory. We don’t even know, for sure, that Lucy talked to Boyd’s killer.” Hannah’s mind went into overdrive, attempting to come up with an alternate scenario. Her gut told her that Boyd’s killer had been the one who’d broken into Lucy’s apartment, but Andrea wouldn’t be much help if she panicked. “All this could have been done by one of Lucy’s other blackmail victims.”

  A little color began to come back to Andrea’s cheeks as she thought about that. “Do you really think so?”

  “It’s possible. They’d have a lot to gain, too. It could have been Mayor Bascomb, or Claire, or Mr. Avery.”

  “Mr. Avery?”

  “Why not? Lucy had his money. He could have been trying to get it back.”

  “You’re right.” Andrea looked very relieved. “At least we know it wasn’t Danielle. She doesn’t even know about the blackmail, and she’s still in the hospital. And Norman didn’t do it. You gave him his letter, and he wouldn’t have any reason to break into Lucy’s place.”

  “Very good.” Hannah was pleased. Andrea was starting to think straight.

  “But what about Lucy’s film?” Andrea asked. “Why would Mayor Bascomb, or Claire, or Mr. Avery bother to destroy it? If Lucy was blackmailing them, she had already showed them the prints. They would have been after the negatives.”

  Hannah sighed. Perhaps Andrea was thinking a little too straight. But it was a legitimate question, and she had to come up with an answer. “It could have been a new blackmail victim. Lucy might have taken some incriminating pictures last night. The new victim would figure she hadn’t had time to develop her film yet.”

  “That makes sense. But what about Lucy?” Andrea looked nervous again. “Why is she missing?”

  “You already came up with a theory about that,” Hannah interrupted her, wishing that she didn’t have to walk a tightrope between Andrea’s hysteria on one hand and her logical questions on the other.

  “You’re right. I forgot about that. I said that if Lucy discovered that her evidence was missing she’d think the police were after her and might skip town.”

  “That’s right. And the theory still fits. If Lucy flew the coop before her apartment was vandalized, she doesn’t even know about it. Let’s concentrate on thinking about where she might have gone.”

  Andrea sighed. “That’s going to be hard, Hannah. I don’t even know where Lucy comes from. And I don’t think she has any friends in town. Nobody seems to like her much.”

  “Only because she’s rude, nosy, conceited, and she blackmails people. Otherwise, she’s all right.”

  Andrea laughed, actually laughed, and Hannah knew that her sister was back on track. Now all she had to do was keep her there.

  “Where shall we start, Hannah? You must have some ideas.”

  “Of course I do,” Hannah declared, searching her mind for something that Andrea could do. “Why don’t you check Lucy’s closet and see if any of her clothes are missing. She might have packed a bag before she left.”

  “That’s a good idea. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll look around in the kitchen and the bathroom.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Andrea started to shiver again. “I don’t want to be alone, Hannah. What if it was the killer? He could come back.”

  “Why would he? He thinks he destroyed all of Lucy’s evidence. He doesn’t know that we’ve got the film she took of him.”

  “That’s right.” An expression of relief replaced the panic that had resurfaced on Andrea’s face. “Go ahead, Hannah. I’ll be all right. What are you going to look for?”

  “A clue to Lucy’s whereabouts. It could be a map, a note with an address, anything like that. But we have to hurry, Andrea. Vera’s going to think it’s weird if we’re up here too long.”

  “Okay. You have a tape player in your truck, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “When I’m through with the closet, I’m going to take out Lucy’s answering machine tape. We can listen to it in your truck. Maybe somebody called her back with a reservation number or something and she’d already left.”

  “Brilliant.” Hannah rewarded her with a smile, then headed off to search the kitchen and the bathroom. She didn’t think she’d find any clues, but she had to look.

  There was nothing in the kitchen except pulled-out drawers and open cupboards. Hannah checked the garbage and found nothing but two tuna cans, a bread wrapper with a stale heel of bread inside, and shards of the plate and coffee cup that Andrea had broken this morning when she’d come in through the kitchen window. The worst-case scenario didn’t occur to her until she’d flicked on the bathroom light and spotted the shower curtain had it been closed this morning? She couldn’t remember, and she certainly didn’t want to ask Andrea. Hannah reached out with shaking fingers, and then hesitated, doing her best not to think about what Anthony Perkins had done to Janet Leigh in Psycho.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The shower had contained nothing but a bottle of shampoo and some rust stains near the drain. They’d double-checked Lucy’s doors and windows to make sure her apartment was secure and then they’d gone back downstairs to return Vera’s key. They hadn’t mentioned the break-in to her, knowing that it would only cause her a sleepless night of worries about Lucy. As far as they could tell, nothing was missing from Lucy’s apartment, and they’d decided to report it later, when they spoke to Mike and Bill. Then they’d driven to The Cookie Jar, pulled into Hannah’s space in the back, kicked up the heater so that they could huddle close to the vents, and listened to the answering machine tape.

  There had been Norman’s call, the one that had told them Lucy wasn’t at his office, several calls from Rod to ask where she was, a slew of messages about Lucy’s overdue credit-card balances, and one from a telephone solicitor who’d read his whole pitch on the tape. The only call that was even remotely interesting was from Delores. She’d wanted to know whether Lucy was more interested in necklaces or earrings.

  “What was all that about?” Hannah asked, when they’d played Delores’s message.

  “Oh, Mother’s probably angling for another article in the paper. They ran one while you were off at college about her collection of antique clocks.” Andrea sighed as she pressed the button to rewind the tape. “There aren’t any clues on here, Hannah. What shall we do next?”

  Hannah shrugged. They were getting nowhere fast. “Let’s drive back over to Lucy’s place. Vera said she was going straight to bed. If her lights are off, we’ll check the garage to make sure Lucy’s car is gone.”

>   “What good will that do? It’s got to be gone if Lucy is.”

  “Not necessarily.” Hannah backed out of her parking spot and headed down the alley. “Lucy could have left town with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but we should still check. Investigating is a process of elimination. You have to explore all the possibilities, and whatever’s left, no matter how implausible, has got to be it.”

  “I never thought about it like that before.” Andrea sounded impressed. “You’ve really got a good head for this, Hannah.”

  “It’s Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s head. I read it in a Sherlock Holmes book. I probably misquoted it, but it’s essentially what he said.”

  “Maybe I should buy Bill a set of Sherlock Holmes for Christmas.” Andrea sounded thoughtful. “Do you have them on tape?”

  “Yes, if you’re talking about the PBS series.”

  “Not television, audio. Then he could listen to them on his way to work.”

  “It’s only a ten-minute commute. He’ll get so interested, he’ll probably sit out in the parking lot until the end of the chapter and get docked for being late.” Hannah drove around the corner. “Here we are, Andrea. Check to see if Vera’s still up.”

  Andrea peered out her window as Hannah drove slowly past her house. “It’s all dark. She must have gone to bed.”

  “Good.” Hannah cut her lights and turned into the alley. She didn’t want of the neighbors to spot her. Vera’s garage was an old-fashioned, freestanding structure that sat on the rear corner of her lot. Hannah parked at the side of the alley and shut off her engine. “We’re here.”

  “If Vera ever listed her house on the market, we’d call that a two-car garage,” Andrea said, sounding amused. “Can you imagine two cars fitting in there?”

  Hannah flicked off the dome light so that it wouldn’t shine when she opened the door. “Two little sports cars, maybe, but that’s about it. Come on, Andrea. Grab those flashlights in the back and let’s check out the garage.”

  “Do you really need me for this?”