Raspberry Truffle Murder (A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Wendy Meadows

  "Thanks," Nikki said, noticing Lidia veering off track and cutting her off.

  "Oh, sure, honey," Lidia blushed. "The older I get, the more my mind seems to wander."

  "I'll be a few minutes." Opening the driver's side door, Nikki studied the brick building with calm eyes. Nodding her head, she walked up to a glass door and without hesitating, walked into a front lobby that smelled of peppermint and ink. Wendy Phillips was sitting behind a polished wooden counter lined with fake plants and a bowl holding cinnamon and peppermint candy. When she saw Nikki, her face became red.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nikki walked over a polished wooden floor, glancing around the stylish lobby that reminded her of the lobby at the hospital. Approaching the counter, she focused her attention on Wendy Phillips. To her surprise, the woman was not very pretty. She saw a woman with short brown hair and a skinny face scarred from years of acne. Even though the woman tried to dress in a stylish red pant suit, she looked cheap and fake. Nikki wondered what a man like Hanz Hochberg saw in a woman like this. "Wendy Phillips?"

  "Get out of here before I call the cops," Wendy snapped at Nikki, standing up from her office chair.

  With the counter separating them, Nikki felt comfortable to continue speaking. Besides, even if Wendy Phillips attacked her, she could hold her own against the skinny woman. Wanting to avoid a physical fight, though, Nikki cautioned herself to walk on egg shells. "I only need to ask you a few questions."

  "Get out," Wendy said throwing her right index finger at the front door.

  "Does the name Hanz Hochberg mean anything to you?"

  Preparing to yell at Nikki again, Wendy froze. Her scarred face went blank. "You know? I thought you came in here to question me...people are saying you are after a story." Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the door leading into the paper was closed, Wendy threw her thumbnail into her mouth and began chewing away. "I didn't kill him."

  "I don't think you did," Nikki assured Wendy, "but someone did, and I'd like to help the police find that person. Wendy, you helped Hanz write those awful stories, didn't you?"

  Wendy began to object but then simply nodded her head yes. "You can't tell anyone, okay? My husband will kill me."

  "How did you and Hanz Hochberg meet?"

  "In Atlantic City," Wendy said still chewing on her thumbnail. "My husband was playing at the craps table. He was on a hot streak. I was standing off to the side, sipping some champagne."

  "Go on," Nikki carefully urged Wendy.

  "This man walks up to me and begins talking to me," Wendy explained, lowering her voice to a whisper. Nikki moved closer to her. "He was very handsome. He actually began flirting with me. I was flattered."

  "What about your husband?"

  "He would have killed me," Wendy admitted, "but Mr. Luck was too busy at the table to know if I was alive or not. I want to divorce him, but I...I can't. While he gambled, I spent time with Hanz. I talked a lot. I...kinda slipped up and told Hanz that I had money, though. But at the time, it didn't seem to matter. A handsome man was showing me attention. I really wanted to impress him. And when Hanz suggested he visit me here in Maple Hills, I was thrilled."

  "I heard you went to college in Boston. How did you end up back here in Maple Hills?" Nikki asked the quick side question.

  "I met my husband here when I came home to visit my parents. He was my dad's accountant. My parents were very rich--"

  "Were?" Nikki interrupted.

  "My parents died a year apart from each other, my mother of cancer and my father of a brain aneurism," Wendy explained. "They left me everything and stupid me really believed my husband loved me instead of the money. And then I blabbed my mouth to Hanz about my money, too."

  "Why can't you divorce your husband?"

  "No prenuptial agreement," Wendy admitted miserably. "I'm not about to let that slime-ball get half of what's mine."

  "Go on," Nikki told Wendy. "What about Hanz?"

  "Oh, Mr. Sweet-talker," Wendy said in a disgusted tone. "I thought he really loved me, but I was wrong...really wrong."

  "It happens. Keep going."

  "Well, at first Hanz and I spent some quiet time alone. I rented him a cabin outside of town. That should have been my first red flag, but I was too blind to see. I would take trips out to see him. We talked...well, I talked," Wendy told Nikki, leaning her head close. "Anyway, one night I began talking about how much I wanted to divorce my husband. I really blabbed my mouth a lot, complained about the people in this town. Hanz was patient. He would ask me a few questions, listen to me fuss, and then ask me a few more questions."

  "Baiting you. Go on," Nikki told Wendy.

  "I see that now," Wendy agreed, "but I thought he loved me. When he went a week without talking to me, I became worried. But then he called me here at the paper."

  "Why?"

  "Hanz said he wanted me to do him a favor, but the idea involved me buying the paper for him. Somehow he had the money. He invited me out to his cabin and explained his plans. At first, I was totally against it, but Hanz kept sweet-talking me. He told me we would use the blackmail money to run away with me, and like a dummy I believed him. I didn't want to help him, but I was so desperate for Hanz to love me, to be proud of me...I just couldn't say no, even though the names Hanz gave me were people my husband knew. But Hanz controlled the staff, and I was ordered to tell them to do what he said or take a hike. No one wanted to get fired, so they kept their mouths shut and did as they were told. At night, Hanz would come in through the back door, and we would work on the stories together."

  "How did your husband know the people Hanz targeted?"

  "My husband is an accountant and works for the people Hanz and I wrote about," Wendy explained. Nervously she looked over her shoulder. "I told Hanz, maybe we needed to write about other people, but he insisted. He had a list of people and was determined not to write about anyone else...I don't know how he came up with the people he did. It worried me because they were connected to my husband, but I was so taken with Hanz--his charm and fake promises that everything was going to be okay--I went through with it."

  "Everyone on Hanz' list was featured in the paper?"

  "Almost," Wendy explained and then frowned. "One day Hanz tells me our fun time is over. With no explanation, he burns down the old building. Then he..."

  "Then he what?"

  "Threatens to blackmail me. He played me the entire time. He had evidence against me that could have landed me in jail," Wendy whispered. "The amount of money he was demanding...I told him it would take time. I couldn't just waltz up to the bank and take out wads of cash. My husband would have suspected something. So I kept paying for the rental cabin outside of town he was staying in and asked him to be patient with me. Hanz didn't like being delayed. He got very angry with me."

  "How did he threaten you?"

  "He threatened to kill me," Wendy frowned again. "My miserable husband would take every cent I own if I end up six feet under. I had no choice but to do what Hanz wanted. I should have known something was wrong when he refused to tell me where he was going with the blackmail money. I was just glad that my husband was staying out of town a lot."

  "I don't understand."

  "Atlantic City, gambling," Wendy pointed out the obvious. "I told you I have money, but yet, here I am working. Why? Because my husband gambles our money away. For once I was grateful he was in Atlantic City...I really thought Hanz loved me and was going to take me away. He turned out to be a creep."

  "He used you. My guess is you gave him a clear shot at blackmailing you, and you didn't even know it."

  Wendy lowered her head in shame. "I sold the paper to Benjamin Westmore, acting as a go-between for Hanz, telling Mr. Westmore that Hanz--er, Steven--had left town out of fear for his life. I managed to talk Mr. Westmore into giving me a job, the same crummy job. Now Hanz is dead, I'm still stuck with my lousy husband, and the people of this town still treat me like dirt. I'm back at square one. At least I'm not bei
ng blackmailed anymore. I guess when my husband gets back from Atlantic City I'll go back to being his doormat."

  "Your husband has been in Atlantic City this entire time?"

  "No, he came back the night Hanz burned down the paper," Wendy explained.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Looking at a white clock hanging on the wall over the reception area, Nikki knew she had to pick up the pace. "Hurting people is never the right answer," Nikki told Wendy. "What you did, using the press to hurt people, embarrass them, blackmail them, was morally and ethically wrong. I know you had your reasons, but no reason is good enough to hurt people."

  "Are you going to turn me in?" Wendy asked fearfully.

  "First, let's talk about Mr. and Mrs. Hochberg," Nikki said, hurriedly pushing the conversation along.

  Wendy quit chewing her thumbnail and tossed her chin into her shaky hands. Looking down at the counter, she shook her head. "They pushed me into a corner. I never knew people could gather all that evidence against me. They knew my every coming and going...scary! But, all that old couple wanted was for me to set up a meeting between them and their son."

  "Why my store?"

  "Hanz had a sweet tooth," Wendy explained in a simple tone. "Mr. and Mrs. Hochberg were very stern with me. They understood what kind of woman I was. Oh, the look that old woman gave me...I'll never be able to live it down."

  "Wendy, who killed Hanz Hochberg?" Nikki asked in a stern voice.

  "I don't know," Wendy said raising her eyes up to Nikki. Nikki saw that the woman was about ready to burst into tears. "Hanz never admitted that he was threatened, but he torched the old building. Every bit of printing equipment--files, computers, everything."

  "I see," Nikki said as a new thought struck her mind. "Okay, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to forget I ever spoke to you about this matter, okay? I think you learned your lesson. Sending you to jail will only destroy your life. But we're going to talk more, not about Hanz but about you. I want to help you, Wendy. I want to be your friend if you allow me."

  "You want to be my friend? Why?" Wendy asked, feeling the tears begin to leave her scared eyes.

  "I can tell all you want is to be loved. You're full of pain and anger, but you're not a bad person. Yes, what you did was wrong, but we can move past that, okay? Please, allow me to be your friend."

  "And if I say no you go blab everything we talked about to Chief Daily, right?"

  "If you say no, I walk out of here and say nothing. If you want to accept my offer, please come to my store tomorrow near lunch. We'll sneak off and grab a burger together," Nikki said. Reaching across the counter she wiped Wendy's tears away. "We have to find the real you. The you I see right now looks very cheap and very fake. If I see that, other people see it. Let's find the real you...the beautiful you, okay?"

  "Okay," Wendy said, fighting back her tears. "But what about--"

  "One step at a time," Nikki smiled, wiping more tears away. "Now I have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, right?"

  "Yeah...yes, sure," Wendy smiled through her tears.

  "Great," Nikki smiled, "I'll see you then. And by the way, it's my treat. Oh, one last question?"

  "Sure, I guess."

  "Who were you going to write about next, before Hanz burned down the building?"

  Wendy glanced around, made sure no one was listening and told Nikki who the next victim was going to be. "A bit too late, but it would have been nice."

  "Why the mayor?"

  Making a sour face, Wendy quickly explained why she had chosen the mayor to be her next target. "Hanz didn't agree. The following night he burned down the building."

  "Thank you," Nikki told Wendy, feeling her gut catch the killer.

  Waving goodbye, she hurried outside and jumped into the driver's seat of the SUV and buckled up. "I think I know who killed Hanz Hochberg," she told Lidia in an excited voice.

  "Who?" Lidia begged.

  "Not yet, I need to talk to Hawk. I'll drop you off at your car, okay?"

  "Not on your life. I want to know who the killer is," Lidia told Nikki and buckled her seat belt. "Herbert can wait for his dinner tonight."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Backing out into the street, Nikki aimed the SUV back toward her store. "Lidia, I need some background information, but this time, we'll skip the library. Instead, let's go to my place. I downloaded the photos I took of the newspapers onto my computer. I need to check something."

  "Why on earth did you leave your job in Atlanta? You seem like a fish out of water in Maple Hills," Lidia asked Nikki.

  "I needed a change," Nikki confessed, biting down hard on her lip. "After the divorce it just made sense to take a different path. I miss working for the paper, but then again, I don't. The paper became so political I was having my back pushed into a corner every step I took. So I left the paper and moved here."

  Lidia studied Nikki's face. She saw flashes of anger, pain, regret, sadness and remorse flash across the woman's eyes. "Are you okay, dear?"

  Nikki shrugged her shoulders as she drove out of town, grateful that most of the tourist traffic had thinned out. "It's everywhere. You can't really hide from it."

  "What?"

  "The reality of life," Nikki explained. "Every second is like a new snapshot you take with your eyes, and your memory collects those snapshots and creates a photo album. Sadly, most of the photos hidden in the albums of our memories are photos we wish to forget. I guess that sounds pretty pessimistic and gloomy, huh?"

  "Tell that to the evening news," Lidia told Nikki and patted her arm.

  Nikki didn't speak again until she pulled up in her driveway and saw Hawk leaning against a red Jeep, waiting for her. "You're kinda early for dinner," she said walking up to Hawk.

  "I got a rough call," Hawk told Nikki in a voice that wasn't happy. With his arms folded over his chest he watched Lidia get out of the SUV.

  "Let's go inside," Nikki suggested. "I have something--"

  Hawk shook his head no. "Everyone Hanz Hochberg wrote about is still living in town. Every last person nearly slammed a door in my face. Can't say I blame them. I got a few tidbits from them, but not much. But let me tell you, every last one of them reassured me they were leaving town as soon as the air clears. Hanz Hochberg really hit the nail on the head with those slugs."

  "Actually, Wendy Phillips hit the nail on the head, but keep going," Nikki urged Hawk, reading the deep anger in his eyes. The man was obviously ready to kick a tree down.

  "Dr. Mayton--that slime-ball, thief, wife-beater, drug addict, liar, lousy doctor. Mandy Long, suspected of embezzlement; her husband died under suspicious conditions, and she collected insurance money from the man's death. Jack Taylor: a corrupt judge kicked off the bench for taking bribes, spent a few days in jail for threatening to kill his wife," Hawk told Nikki, unfolding his arms and slapping his fingers one by one as he named off names.

  "I read the articles written on them," Nikki told Hawk as a cool breeze touched her face. "Hawk, what's bothering you? Low-life criminals don't bother a man like you."

  "Spit it out," Lidia fussed at Hawk.

  Hawk shook his head and began to pace around. "My last visit was to Dr. Mayton, again," Hawk explained. "I started noticing a pattern with the people I talked to."

  Nikki felt her hands begin to tingle. She, too, had noticed a pattern. "Every person written about serves on the city council. Every person written about supported the mayor's re-election. Every person written about came from Boston. The mayor is from Boston."

  "And lo and behold, who calls me and yells at me to back off questioning his precious little birdies?" Hawk asked Nikki, squeezing his hands into two tight fists. "I don't like a weasel pushing my shoulders when I'm conducting an investigation. I push back. Anyway, I was talking to Dr. Mayton about why and how he ended up on the city council. A man trying to hide his past, hiding out in a small town, would try and stay as low-key as possible."

  "What was his answer?" Nikki asked.


  "I didn't get an answer. The mayor called my cell phone before that rat could answer me," Hawk stormed. "Doesn't matter. I gave strict orders for all of them to remain in town. My gut told me who killed Hanz Hochberg."

  "Who? For crying out loud, who?" Lidia begged.

  "The mayor," Nikki told Lidia. "Wendy Phillips--or maybe Hanz Hochberg--deliberately left clues connecting the people they wrote about to the mayor. I didn't see the connection at first, but after speaking with Wendy Philips, she confirmed my suspicion. Actually, Mrs. Slokam set the ball rolling. For a sweet old librarian, she sure was intent on protecting those papers. Seemed strange to me that she could call Chief Daily in the middle of a murder and have him rush to the library, too. Unless she was protecting her husband, Mayor Slokam. It began with Dr. Mayton calling me. Why? How did he find out I was snooping around? And how did he get my cell phone number?"

  "I always knew that woman was a two-faced liar," Lidia burst out. "I never liked her, no sir, never."

  "Wendy Phillips told me that Hanz Hochberg suddenly stopped the articles and burned down the building housing the paper," Nikki explained, glancing up into a relaxed blue sky. God is an amazing artist, she mused, taking the time to collect her thoughts. Here she was, surrounded by a rough and delicate beauty so intermingled that it was impossible to tell where the brush of the artist began and the canvas ended. "Hawk, did you do me that favor I asked?"

  "Yeah," Hawk told Nikki pulling a small notepad from his front pocket. "I checked into Wendy Phillips' husband. A real lowlife by the name of Brent Phillips. Got busted running books for the Bonaduci family in Boston, did a little time in his early twenties. After he got out of prison he spent a few years in Germany on a work program and--"