by Maddy Hunter
“That’s a relief,” said Margi.
I was sure there was logic in this exchange; I just wasn’t sure where.
“This is the best one yet,” Osmond declared as he squinted at the envelope, “but I don’t know who wrote it, ’cause I don’t recognize this handwriting, either.”
“It’s mine!” Jackie cried, shooting her hand into the air. “Fooled you, fooled you. None of you could possibly have committed the murder, because I wrote that one!”
I blinked numbly. A few more remarks like that could put her on a track to run for president.
Osmond held up the final entry and read in a steady voice, “‘This exercise is even dumber than the last one.’”
Margi frowned. “Are you sure that’s one of ours? It doesn’t have any of the right words.”
All eyes riveted on Bernice.
“You people are an embarrassment to every card-carrying member of AARP,” she taunted. “You couldn’t tag the killer if he bit you on your collective butts. If you wanna play Dick Tracy, you gotta be like me and keep your eyes and ears open all the time.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “Even with your eyes and ears open, I don’t see how you could possibly know the things you told Officer Viiii—Vit—the officer. You haven’t been shmoozing with the people from the Hamlets.”
“That’s on account a she doesn’t like them,” said Nana.
“She doesn’t like anyone,” said Helen, yawning.
“You don’t have a laptop,” I continued. “You don’t have a cell phone with Internet capabilities. How did you get all the information?”
“She eavesdrops,” said Dick Teig.
“How?” I asked. “She has hearing aids in both ears!”
“She claims they’re hearing aids,” said Dick Stolee, “but have you ever looked at them up close?” He stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “I think they’re bugs.”
Margi gasped. “Do you remember the Night Gallery TV episode years ago where someone put a bug in Laurence Harvey’s ear and it ate clear through to the other side of his head and then it laid eggs?” She grabbed Bernice’s forearm. “I hope you weren’t stupid enough to put that kind of bug in your ear.”
Bernice rolled her eyes far up into her head. “Why do I bother coming on these trips?” She wiggled out of her seat and stood up. “I’m outta here.”
“You can’t leave,” Osmond warned. “We’re supposed to stay here until we’re told it’s okay to go.”
Iowans pride themselves on following the rules. We obey traffic laws, see our dentist every six months, and always turn our cell phones off in movie theaters. When someone in authority gives us an order, we treat it like a Commandment.
“You think I can’t leave?” Bernice cackled as she squeezed around feet and knees to the center aisle. “Watch me.”
Bernice obviously had a different take on the Ten Commandments.
“Hey, Blondie,” she called to Officer Hamalainen, who was standing guard by the door. “This is an emergency. Where’s the potty?”
The young officer’s expression went from sober to confused. “I’m sorry, madam, but the kitchen is closed.”
The Dicks collapsed onto their desks in belly-jiggling laughter.
“Don’t they have potties in Lapland?” asked Margi.
“Try ‘little girl’s room,’” suggested Alice.
Tilly snorted. “Have you ever asked yourself at what age a woman becomes old enough to use the ‘big girl’s room’?”
The ladies exchanged bewildered looks, apparently unprepared to debate such a deep question at this hour of the morning. “Trick question,” said Jackie. “There is no such thing as a big girl’s room.”
“WHERE’S THE TOILET?” Bernice yelled down to Hamalainen.
Before he could react, the door opened to admit Annika, Helge, Officers Vitikkohuhta and Kynsijarvi, and a non-uniformed man I hadn’t seen before. Officer Vitikkohuhta walked to the podium and turned on the microphone. “If you would please take your seat,” he said, nodding to Bernice. “You should be able to leave in a few minutes. Could I have everyone’s attention, please?”
He waited for the Florida people to snort and stretch and elbow each other awake before he continued. “We are fortunate in Ivalo to have our own handwriting expert.” He gestured to the man standing beside Officer Kynsijarvi. “Mika-Matti Arctopolitanus.”
If the Finns were given a choice between world peace or shorter names, I wondered which one they’d choose?
“He has studied the samples you were kind enough to provide and has drawn some preliminary conclusions. Unfortunately, this means more inconvenience for a few of you, so please accept my apologies ahead of time.”
Uh-oh. Sounded as if the remaining board members were about to get the third degree.
“Would the guests from Iowa please identify themselves?”
We stuck our hands in the air, a little smug to be released first.
“Would all of you except Ms. Andrew kindly follow Officer Kynsijarvi to the bus outside the hotel? I need to take you to Ivalo for further questioning.”
What?
Bernice jumped out of her seat. “Further questioning? Why are you picking on us? We didn’t kill that guy. We didn’t even know him!”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Zwerg, but you knew a great deal about the deceased, and everyone else.”
“That’s because she eavesdrops,” shouted Dick Teig.
“You ever heard of barking up the wrong tree?” Bernice demanded. “Those people sitting down front are the guilty ones. Why don’t you drag them in for further questioning?”
“Because their handwriting samples do not warrant it.”
“Should I pack pajamas?” asked Margi. “I can’t sleep in street clothes. And if you don’t have hypoallergenic pillows, I’ll have to bring my own.”
“Someone grab insect repellant,” said Grace.
“And toilet paper,” said George. “Government issue can be awful scratchy.”
“I have to take my medications in the morning,” Lucille piped up, “so you’re going to have to let me run up to my room for my pill caddy.”
“Me too,” everyone chimed at once.
“Are you gonna handcuff us?” asked Nana. “I wouldn’t mind being cuffed.”
“Is it okay if we bring our camcorders?” asked Dick Teig. “You got someplace in your jail cell where I can recharge my battery?”
“I’m not going to jail!” Bernice yowled. “I want a lawyer. I wanna talk to the American ambassador. I don’t care what time it is. Wake him up. I demand justice!”
“There, there, honey.” Jackie popped out of her seat to wrap her arms around Bernice. “It won’t be that bad. They’ll take your beverage order, ask you some questions, then cut you loose. You know the drill. Just like we did in Helsinki. It might actually be fun! Think of it as a sleepover with boys along.”
Nana raised her hand. “If this is a sleepover, can I be handcuffed to George?”
“I’m not going to jail!” Bernice cried.
Jackie crushed Bernice’s head against her breasts with such force, I wasn’t sure if the idea was to soothe her or kill her. “Be brave, Bernice. You can do this. And if they allow you to make one phone call, would you mind terribly calling my editor and asking her why the hell she’s not answering my phone calls? I’ll give you the number.”
Officer Vitikkohuhta motioned to Jackie. “I nearly forgot, Ms. Thum. You need to come with us, also.”
Jackie gasped. “Me? What do you want with me? I’m not from Iowa.”
“I’m sorry, but your penmanship sent up many, many flags.”
“Of course it did!” she cried, shoving Bernice aside. “I told you I haven’t written script since high school. I print! Do you know how hard it was for me to remember how to make a capital S?”
“Your sample was very suspicious.”
“Capital S isn’t so bad,” Lucille interrupted. “If you want to talk hard, what about the capital
Z?”
“I’ve been known to leave off the little hump on the side of the Z,” Osmond confessed. “Makes my Zs look like tadpoles.”
“I thought the hump was on the Q,” said Margi.
“I didn’t kill August Manning!” Jackie wailed. “Look at my nails.” She flashed her fluorescent pinks at Vitikkohuhta. “I had a manicure four days ago. Given the outrageous price I paid, do you honestly think I’d risk breaking one of these babies by strangling someone? I bet you don’t even offer emergency nail repair above the Arctic Circle.”
As Officer Kynsijarvi headed up the aisle stairs to assist us from our seats, Jackie’s voice grew more plaintive. “You can’t lock me up. I’m almost famous! Don’t you read the entertainment rags? This would never happen in Hollywood.”
“There, there,” Bernice mimicked. “Spending the night in jail might actually be fun. Think of it as a sleepover with a bunch of old farts who’ll be up peeing all night.” She stared down at Officer Vitikkohuhta and added in a loud voice, “But at least we don’t have to worry about getting whacked at the jailhouse, because all the real suspects will still be here in the hotel!”
Bernice sometimes surprised me by making a lot of sense. The gang would be out of harm’s way at the jail, which meant I wouldn’t have to fret about their safety. But still…
While Officer Kynsijarvi helped people down the stairs and directed traffic, I ran ahead to take Officer Vitikkohuhta aside. “I know my handwriting passed muster, but I’m the official chaperone of the Iowa contingent, so I think you should take me to jail with them.”
“Annika has asked Helge to accompany your group to Ivalo, so thank you for the offer, Ms. Andrew, but it won’t be necessary.”
“But you don’t understand. My grandmother is Marion Sippel—the lady who’d like to be handcuffed—and she needs medical attention. I think she may be exhibiting signs of stroke, so I really need to be there with her.”
“I’ll arrange for someone to see her before she’s questioned. Will that be acceptable?”
Officer Vitikkohuhta obviously didn’t have a grandparent who was his best friend. “I’d really like to go with her,” I repeated.
“Our facilities are very small. Please, Annika tells me this is the protocol that must be followed. Helge is a Midnight Sun Adventures employee, so he will chaperone the group, and you must stay here. Annika can use your support. She is devastated by this incident.”
“Would one of you people in charge tell us what in tarnation the rest of us are supposed to do while you’re gone?” Vern Grundy asked in a stentorian voice.
“You’re free to return to your rooms,” said Vitikkohuhta, “but please do not wander far. I may have more questions for you in the morning.”
Grumbling. Snorting. Foot scuffing.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” announced Vern. “Anyone up for a game of Scrabble?”
“I’ll play,” said June Peabody. “I could use a distraction.”
“If she’s playing, I’ll play, too,” said April.
“What the hell,” Reno muttered. “Count me in. I probably can’t get back to sleep anyway. How about we meet in the lobby in ten minutes.”
“Does anyone have any snacks?” asked June. “This emotional anxiety has made me hungry.”
“Me, too,” said April. “Reindeer meat doesn’t stick to your ribs very long.”
It probably would if they didn’t swallow it whole.
Fifteen minutes later, I waved good-bye to my group as they headed off for Ivalo in the subdued sunlight that was 1:30 a.m. As the bus headed down the road, I was thankful that Nana would have an opportunity to be checked out by a doctor, but I worried about the prognosis. What would I do if she was really sick? Would she be able to fly home? Would she have to be hospitalized here?
The constriction in my throat eased as I reminded myself what I had told Mom. Seventy-nine wasn’t as old as it used to be. Seventy-nine-year-olds were jumping out of airplanes and bungee jumping off bridges. Seventy-nine was the new sixty. And sixty-year-olds were a hearty demographic, especially if they ate their vegetables and had obscene amounts of money. So chances were that Nana would be all right, nd the rest of the gang would be out of harm’s way at the police department.
I looked back at the hotel, battling a sudden sense of dread.
Yup. The only Iowan in any danger tonight was…me.
CHAPTER 10
I didn’t know what time it was anywhere else in the world, but in Saariselka, it was 3:05 a.m., and I was still awake.
I sat propped against my headboard, staring bleary-eyed at the list I’d written but failing to be inspired by my notes. I’d separated my suspects into two columns: Board members, which included April, June, Vern, and Lauretta, and Others, which included Curtis, Joleen, Jimbob, and Reno. My instincts told me that the killer’s name was right in front of my face, but the challenge was, how could I whittle eight names down to one with any certainty?
I put an asterisk next to O’Brien, wondering if Officer Vitikkohuhta was right about the killer trying to frame Reno. Sure sounded good, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Reno was quick and he was strong. He could have strangled Gus in no time flat and returned to the lodge before anyone missed him. But why would he have killed a friend? Or had the friendship just been a ruse? Had they had differences they’d never telegraphed, differences that could have led to murder? Reno and Gus had supposedly been arguing about the Red Sox outside the lodge, but who’d given that information to Officer Vitikkohuhta? Reno or Bernice? If it had been Reno, had he been telling the truth, or had he tried to cover his butt by making up the story?
I studied the names as I listened for suspicious sounds outside my room. Were the Peabody sisters capable of murder? Was either one of them strong enough to strangle a man who had greater upper-body strength? I doubted they could have succeeded alone, but could they have joined forces and done it together? They’d probably scarfed their meal down so fast that they would have had plenty of time to slip Gus a note and lure him outside.
I scribbled a note to myself: Find out who Gus was sitting with at dinner.
Chances were he hadn’t been sitting with the Barnums, but I wondered if his deliberate avoidance of them had been so blatant that it had pushed them over the edge. Could this final humiliation have turned Joleen and Jimbob into murderers? Like Nana was fond of saying, you might not remember what someone said, but you’ll always remember how it made you feel.
I doodled a question mark by Vern’s name. Military men were trained to kill the enemy, but had Gus been the enemy? Could Vern even attempt to overpower anyone with his bad knees? And what about Lauretta and Curtis? How could they have strangled Gus? They were too short! The only way they could have placed that noose around his neck was if they’d been piggyback, and I doubted they had either the strength or balance to execute a move like that. Jimbob, on the other hand, could have tightened the noose with both hands tied behind his back, using only his feet.
I placed two asterisks beside Jimbob’s name.
Hearing voices in the hall, I ran to the door and squinted through the peephole. Aha! The Scrabble players were returning from the lobby. Sure had taken them a long time. It made me wonder if they’d been playing Scrabble the whole time, or doing something else—like reminiscing about Gus or plotting something nefarious. Could Vern, April, June, and Reno be in cahoots? Were they devising a strategy to get Reno elected to the board of directors? Could that be why existing board members were dropping like flies? But what benefit would it be to anyone if Reno joined the board? And were the benefits enough to warrant two murders?
I returned to my bed knowing exactly what the hangup was.
I just didn’t know enough.
Hoping to remedy that, I grabbed my cell phone, calculated what time it was in both Lucerne and Windsor City, and punched in a number. “Hi, Mom,” I said when I connected.
“Emily! I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for you to call back. Ar
e you ready for the good news?”
“Before you give it to me, would you do me a huge favor?”
“Another favor?” She oozed enthusiasm through the phone. “Oh, my goodness, this is so exciting. I love being helpful.”
“Grab a pen and paper, then. I need you to do an Internet search for me.” Under Nana’s tutelage, Mom had developed some kick-butt computer skills over the last year, progressing from sending simple emails to hacking into the files of any agency, organization, or institution in about three minutes flat. Nana was so proud of her success with Mom that she’d approached the Senior Center about offering weekly computer workshops, but the only slot open was after lunch, which was the worst possible time of day for the senior set. Nana had said, “Them old folks won’t be listenin’ to me. They’ll be too busy takin’ cat naps and fallin’ outta their chairs. There won’t be no end to the broken hips.”
“Okay, Mom, I’m interested in any information you can find about the following people.” I gave her the names of the four current board members. When it was morning in Lucerne, I’d ask Etienne to do the same for the four non-board members. With both of them searching the Internet, they were bound to turn up something that would raise a red flag or two. At least, I hoped they would.
“April and June Peabody,” Mom repeated. “What happened to May?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re naming your children, why would you jump from April to June? There has to be a May there someplace.”
“Maybe the Peabodys didn’t like the name May.”
“I bet there’s a May. There could be a story there, Emily. Maybe you can use it in your next travel club newsletter.” A pause. “Oh, that’s right. There might not be a next newsletter. You could still write it, though. I bet the Register would love to publish it.” Another pause. “After they rebuild the newspaper office and replace all their equipment.”
I let out a discouraged sigh. “Have you run your idea about the wheelchair with the crepe paper and helium balloons past Sharon?”
“She loved the idea, Emily, but her rehab is going to take much longer than she first anticipated, so unfortunately she has to drop out of the wedding. She feels just terrible, but I told her not to beat herself up about it. You’d understand.”