A Pattern for Murder (The Bait & Stitch Cozy Mystery Series, Book 1)

by Ann Yost

  Larry and Lydia wandered inside to remind me that we should get back to the lighthouse. The trouble was, I couldn't decide whether to take the shoes with me or not. I mean, in the Golden Age stories, detectives would have brought them along just to make sure nobody stole them, but the modern cops on TV would have left them in the situation until a forensic team could check them out.

  I figured I really should stop thinking of this situation as fictional, left the shoes in the wood chips and started the hike back down the lakefront. Meanwhile, I placed another 911 call.

  This time the phone was answered on the ninth ring.

  "Oh, Hatti, is that you? We've had quite a morning here. Doc Kukka is such a nice young man but he refused to eat the Trenary toast and eggs that Vesta sent over from the diner." Trenary toast is twice-baked rusk sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar and it is sacrosanct in the UP. "Anyhow, it made the sheriff plum furious. He scolded the doctor, told him he'd insulted Vesta and Doc apologized to him and, on the phone, to Vesta, and he ate all the food. But everyone was upset and the sheriff went on down to the diner to settle his tummy with a milkshake and doughnuts. What can I do you for?"

  "I'd like to speak with Ellwood, Mrs. Too."

  "Well, dear, he's not here. After the diner, sheriff and Ellwood are heading out to the lighthouse."

  "Oh, good. I can tell them about the shoes when they get here."

  "What shoes?"

  I told her about finding the deceased's boat shoes in the sauna chips.

  "That's a mighty strange place to keep 'em," she said. "I can't imagine Johanna Marttinen ever told him to do that sort of thing."

  "Well, I don't believe Alex put them there," I said, sorry I'd started down this unpromising track. "I think it was the murderer."

  "I should have thought his mama would have taught him better, too. Those woodchips can't be good for the leather. Or are they canvas?"

  "Hm," I said, noncommittally. "Do you happen to know when the autopsies will be performed?"

  "Already finished, Henrikki. Doc Halonen got back from his cottage late last night. You know he's an early bird. Got in here and whipped through 'em, just like that." I could hear the snap of fingers on the other end of the line. "He said it was a nice change after spending the weekend with his grandchildren."

  "Mrs. Too," I said, cutting her off. "Was Mrs. Ollanketo murdered?"

  "Of course, Hatti. We've got the perp sitting right here in the cell. That nice Doctor Kukka. I suppose he had his reasons."

  I had no idea what to say to that so I said goodbye and hung up.

  The dogs and I slipped in the back door and I filled their bowls with food and water. I felt as if I'd been gone for hours so it was a surprise to hear the voices in the dining room. When I walked through the door I could see that all the residents were still gathered around the table which was as strong an indication as anything that we were all upset.

  "Henrikki," Aunt Ianthe said, "you went for a walk with the dogs?" I nodded, taking a chair near her.

  "Let me get you some eggs and coffee cake," Riitta said, getting to her feet. She looked as neat as always but there were purple crescents under her eyes and I waved her back to her seat insisting (less than truthfully) that I wasn't hungry.

  Danny, at the end of the table, looked as hollow-eyed as his mom and there was a deep scowl on his handsome, young face as he listened to Miss Irene warbling on about something. Miss Thyra was on Danny's other side which surprised me considering that she'd played the role of Judas in betraying him to me. As I watched, Miss Thyra pushed the food around her plate and kept her eyes down.

  Aunt Ianthe seemed normal enough and Erik Sundback's habitual air of geniality was somewhat subdued but intact. He wore the same brightly colored shirt that he'd worn the day before but had somehow passed the night without either wrinkling or soiling it. He seemed deliberately calm as if he'd taken it upon himself to provide stability for the group.

  "Good morning, Hatti," he said, when the others had finished talking. "We're having a kind of summit meeting to talk over the unusual circumstances we've experienced here, lately and what they mean to everyone.

  "I know Alex Martin's return and what happened after that has been distressing to everyone, especially combined with the loss of Mrs. Ollanketo but I have what amounts to some good news and I saved it until we were all here."

  "We're not all here now," Danny said. "What about Tom?"

  "Danny!" His mother reprimanded him. Was it just a reflex response? Your kid is rude, you call him on it? Or did she not want Tom brought in to the discussion? If the doctor were to be released, the sheriff would almost certainly arrest Danny.

  "Alex Martin's L.A. attorney has told me it is his opinion that Johanna Marttinen's gift of the Painted Rock Lighthouse and the five-million-dollar trust fund is likely to stand. As I believe I mentioned, the Marttinen property is not noted in Alex Martin's Last Will and Testament which means the typed and signed note received by Riitta Lemppi yesterday morning, is the only document that is pertinent. It will have to go through probate but Alex's attorney expects it to be accepted and I concur." He smiled at each of us for a second or two. "So it looks as if the Painted Rock Lighthouse Retirement Home is secure."

  "That's wonderful," Riitta murmured. She looked at me. "Did you walk as far as the oil house? Did you see Jack?"

  I heard the hysteria behind the question and wished I could give her the answer she was looking for.

  "I'm afraid not."

  "We're shrinking," Danny said. "First it was Alex, then Mrs. O., then Tom, now Jack. A couple more days and we'll be down to zero. And Then There Were None."

  "Danny!" It was his mother.

  "Riitta, dear," Aunt Ianthe said, "what is he talking about?"

  "An Agatha Christie novel," I said, "you remember it, Aunt Ianthe. Ten people are invited to an island by an anonymous host. Each of them has gotten away with a murder and the host has set himself to make them pay. One by one they get killed off."

  "Dear me," Aunt Ianthe said. "It doesn't sound very entertaining when you tell it like that."

  "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," Miss Irene said. "It's all explained in Exodus."

  Danny shot the old lady a savage look.

  "You think Moses planned these murders? Or God?"

  Riitta's sob was involuntary and so uncharacteristic that everyone gasped and even Erik Sundback glared at the young man.

  "Let's pull ourselves together," he growled. "We have to rely on each other to get through this terrible situation."

  "We must all find our sisu," Miss Thyra said and I thought I heard just a whiff of irony in her voice. Or, maybe it was desperation. My thoughts were interrupted by the opening and slamming of the front door which we could hear loud and clear because neither the glass-paned doors that separated the foyer from the parlor, nor the pocket doors that separated the parlor from the dining room were closed. The hundred-year-old floorboards of the lighthouse creaked and groaned as Sheriff Horace A. Clump thundered his way across them. He looked like a keg of dynamite about to blow.

  "Ye gods and little fishes," he squawked. "Where in the blue blazes is everybody? You all dead?"

  I'd jumped up as soon as I heard him and he swept past me, his arms flailing, his hat crooked and a snarl on his pyramid-shaped face. The buttonholes on his tan uniform shirt were stretched into almonds and the suspenders dug into his shoulders. He looked hot and cross and ready to throw us all to the wolves.

  "What's up with him," I asked Ellwood.

  "Bee in his bonnet. Doc Halonen says both of the autopsies were murders."

  "What was the cause of death on Mrs. O?"

  "Overdose."

  "Of Digitalin?"

  Ellwood nodded. "And Verapamil. Somehow, she got both."

  "Oh, no."

  "Mrs. Too called me about the shoes. What's up with that?" I told him what I'd found. He couldn't make head nor tail of it, either.

  "I don't know, Hatti. This is
too much like a movie. People keep dying or disappearing, like that Agatha Christie story."

  "And Then There Were None?"

  "That's it."

  "Funny. Danny just said the same thing. Quite a coincidence."

  "Not really. We were both in Mrs. Kempner's physics class. She had her baby early and they showed us movies for the last two weeks of school."

  "Huh. Small world."

  The sheriff arrived in front of the table of people and he took a minute or two to catch his breath after which he planted his feet about a foot apart, dug his fists into the wall of flesh that constituted his waist and spoke.

  "I have had it up to here," he said, flattening his right hand and bringing it level with his massive forehead. "I don't know what's going on out here but whatever it is has gotta stop. I got two folks deader than dodo birds down at the morgue and a missing sea captain. Doc H. says Martin was pushed off the balcony and the old lady was kilt with Veramenthol."

  "Verapamil," Ellwood corrected him.

  "Whatever."

  "I hope you know that we are very upset about these deaths, too," Aunt Ianthe said. She was, as always polite, but not cowed. It would take a lot to cow Aunt Ianthe. "We all hope very much that this is the end of it. But you are the ones who have to solve the case, is the thing. I think you should get busy."

  During this little speech Clump's red cheeks had turned the color of purple plums and his small, beady eyes had narrowed over his bulbous nose.

  "For your information, Madame," he said, in a tone my mother would have described as not very nice, "I intend to get busy. A team of crime scene specialists will be brought in tomorrow or the next day."

  "My goodness," Aunt Ianthe said. "That won't be very convenient for the residents."

  "Exactly right," Clump said, with a note of triumph. "They are coming in, so you must go out. I want the place vacated by five p.m. today. This is now an official crime scene and you are all trespassing."

  As sure as the night follows the day I expected the next words to come from Miss Irene. Trespassing is one of those words that easily lends itself to Bible references. Instead, Miss Thyra spoke.

  "Some of us cannot leave," she said, with dignity. "We have no other place to go."

  "Not my problem," Clump leered. "But I'll say this. If you ain't here, you can't get killed. So what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

  "Sheriff," I asked, "does this mean you have decided Tom Kukka is innocent?"

  "Hell, no, girl. No one's innocent til proven guilty. It's a constitutional rule. But if we're going to court, and we are, I wanna get more hard evidence, get me? Awright," he continued, "time for all of you people to vamoose."

  Erik Sundback got to his feet and spoke quietly but authoritatively.

  "I'd like to propose a solution to the housing problem. I don't believe that many of you know this, but I have a home in Red Jacket. I bought it last year and it's been under renovation since then. I'm happy to say it is ready for occupancy and I hereby invite any or all of you to stay there with me for the duration. There are plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms, a housemaid and a cook so it shouldn't be too unpleasant an experience."

  Aunt Ianthe looked regretful and I knew she was, at that moment, wishing she did not have her own home in Red Jacket. A few days at Erik Sundback's renovated home would suit her and Miss Irene, perfectly. However, she thanked him politely and explained that she and her companion shared a home on Calumet Street.

  Erik was very polite to the old lady but his object in issuing the invitation was clear from the burning look he lasered on Riitta. I saw my cousin exchange a nod with Miss Thyra and then she spoke.

  "On behalf of Miss Thyra and myself, we accept your offer with gratitude," she said.

  "I can bunk with a high school friend," Danny put in, quickly. The comment drew a questioning look from Ellwood but he didn't object and I thought it was just as well. In the battle shaping up between Erik Sundback and Tom Kukka, Danny was too much of a partisan to be comfortable with the attorney's hospitality.

  On the whole, I thought, as we dispersed to start packing up, the exodus wasn't a bad idea and I imagined everyone would be somewhat relieved, so I was surprised to see the violet shadows under Miss Thyra's eyes and the deep crevices that bracketed her downturned mouth. She was still upset or worried or (and I thought this the most likely option) feeling guilty. I was certain she knew something important and I resolved to talk to her again.

  "Where is your home, Erik," Aunt Ianthe said, conversationally, as we headed out of the dining room toward the main staircase. It was typical of my relative that she would express an interest in someone's news and I knew she was motivated as much by benevolence as by curiosity. Erik Sundback had a new house and he was proud of it, ergo, he would want to speak of it.

  "It's on Cedar Crescent," he said, pleasantly. "The old Eilola place. Apparently it had been rented for a number of years and I was able to buy it for a song." He chuckled, ruefully. "Unfortunately, the renovations have been more like Wagner's Ring Cycle, long and heavily expensive."

  "Oh, that's wonderful," Aunt Ianthe said, with a warm smile. "We've seen the vans and workmen over there but no one seemed to know who had bought the place. Welcome to Red Jacket, Erik. I hope this means we will see even more of you."

  "And the house," Miss Irene said. "We have been so curious about the house."

  "I want you to see it," Sundback said, in a kindly voice. "In fact, why don't you ladies come over tomorrow afternoon, for tea?" He glanced in Riitta's direction as if suddenly remembering he should check with her before issuing an invitation. "Is that all right," he asked, belatedly. "The cook will handle everything."

  "It's lovely," Riitta assured him, warmly. "Thyra and I will be glad to see Ianthe and Irene again tomorrow." She looked at me. "Hatti, you'll come, too?" I nodded. "Oh, and do you mind keeping Lydia?"

  Riitta was always gracious but it surprised me a little how easily she'd stepped into the role of Erik's hostess. Had she made her decision? Had she already (figuratively) left Tom Kukka and his devotion by the roadside?

  I tried to look at Erik Sundback objectively. He was fifty years old but in great shape with blue eyes that could be warm and playful or rather cold and businesslike. He showed no likelihood of losing his white-blond hair and it complemented his ruddy cheeks. He was trim and fit and always well-groomed and he struck me as a man of controlled pride. An attractive man. I did not find it odd that Riitta was fond of him but I did wonder how their living arrangements would work out. My cousin's mission was the retirement home. Somehow, I couldn't see Erik Sundback spending the rest of his days in the fussy Victorian parlor with a gaggle of little old ladies, unlike Tom Kukka, who, though twenty years younger, fit right in.

  While we were working together to get the ladies (and the rest of us) moved out, I found myself on the stairs with the attorney.

  "It was generous of you to offer your house," I said.

  He winked at me. "I may have had an ulterior motive." I nodded, gravely.

  "Listen, I wanted to run something by you."

  "Shoot," he said. In a low voice, I told him about the shoes buried in the wood chips.

  "Weird," he said. "What do you make of it?"

  I shook my head. "I can't figure out why they're there."

  "On the face of it, it seems like Jack."

  "I know. But where is he? And why would he take those shoes? They wouldn't fit him."

  "Hatti," he said, patiently, "Fellows like Jack are opportunists and I don't mean that critically. He has no income except a pittance from Johanna's estate for taking care of the antique lens. A pair of calf-leather boat shoes will fetch a good price at a consignment shop."

  "I suppose so. How did you know they were boat shoes?"

  "Hm? Oh, I noticed them, particularly on Saturday. Caramel-colored, aren't they? I have a similar pair. Anyway, I think Jack is the most likely answer to your question."

  "Does that mean you th
ink Jack murdered Alex?"

  He shook his head. "I'm not saying that. My best guess is that it was an accident. But since the autopsy says it was foul play, you can bet Clump is going to pin it on somebody. It might be Jack. It might be Tom or it might be Danny. You need to be emotionally ready to accept the outcome, whatever it is."

  My heart felt heavy and he seemed to realize it because he put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a heartening squeeze.

  "I'm glad you're sticking by us in this," I said. "I'm glad you're here."

  Chapter 26

  Nearly all the houses in Red Jacket were built before World War II and many of them earlier, when the population of Copper Country was three times as high as it is now. Most were typical Yooper structures with sharply slanted rooflines designed to allow gravity to aid in snow removal, enclosed mud porches and picture windows four or five feet above ground level so they wouldn't be blocked by snow. But a few of the homes were built by mine managers and other wealthy persons. Most of those great homes are located on Calumet Street, the highest point in town.

  My family's Queen Anne Victorian is on the west side of the street between the Maki Funeral Home and the Leaping Deer, Elli's bed and breakfast. She inherited the shabby, rambling inn three years ago and has restored it, in meticulous detail, to a graceful, state-of-the-art inn circa 1900.

  Arvo's home, in contrast, is just plain ugly. The local joke (never spoken before him) is that the architect must have had a death wish. The structure's red brick walls, darkened by time are reminiscent of dried blood and the slit-like windows make it seem as if its eyes are closed. There is a heavy, thick, low-pitched roof that curls over the gutters like a hungry python.