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

by Ann Yost

"I had a visit from that flame-haired matchstick, Ellwood. He found out about my visit to the tower and he had a lot of intrusive questions. How old is that kid, anyway?"

  "Nineteen. Listen, I've got somewhere to go."

  "That's why I'm here. After the deputy left I did some yoga and meditation and I got into a good trance. It was during the trance that a couple of revelations came to me. It works like that sometimes. You clear your mind of all the surface trivial stuff and something important breaks through."

  "What sorts of revelations?"

  "Well, I think I know what happened to Captain Jack."

  I thought of my own revelation earlier in the garden at Erik's house.

  "I think I do, too."

  We exchanged a pointed look.

  "I was just heading out to the lighthouse," I said, as if the pronouncement was unrelated.

  "That right? Mind if I go with you?"

  I had to think fast. If Chakra was the killer it would be incredibly foolish to go out to the deserted lighthouse with her. I decided to stall.

  "Did your epiphany include the identity of Alex's murderer?"

  "Not really. Nothing I'm sure about. You?"

  "I'm not sure, either."

  "Why do you want to go out to the lighthouse?"

  "Because," she said, "like you, I believe the answers are out there. And, unlike you, I am a suspect."

  "Okay. Let me just feed the mongrels and we'll go. By the way, do you remember a guy called Finn O'Leary?"

  "Funny, balding, great smile?"

  "That's the one. I think he's in love with you."

  "Huh," she said. "I'll drive to the lighthouse."

  "Why?"

  "Because, my friend, in case we have to make a getaway, my car is much faster than yours. And it's air-conditioned."

  We were barreling down Tamarack en route to the interstate when she spoke again.

  "I checked with Alex's L.A. lawyer about his will. I get ten million but the rest of it, some ninety million plus, all goes to the same person and you're not going to believe who it is."

  My heart was pounding so hard that my chest hurt. Here it was. Chakra was about to hand me the name of the murderer on a silver platter. Or maybe a gold one.

  "Who?"

  "He'd had the same chief beneficiary for years and years. It was Riitta Lemppi. On Saturday night he called the lawyer and substituted another name. He left nearly his entire fortune to his son, Danny."

  The name sent a dagger through my heart. No jury in the world could ignore a motive of ninety million dollars. We had to find evidence that would point elsewhere. We had to. I shivered in the air-conditioning.

  "Drive faster."

  Chapter 33

  Since the lighthouse had never been on anyone's milk route, it had no milk chute. Nevertheless, there was a little hook about shoulder height on the back porch that held the key. I was pretty sure that sheriff Clump would neither have known about it nor instructed Ellwood to remove it and I was right. By the time I'd retrieved the key and let Chakra and myself in the back door, we were both soaked and I was out of breath, a condition that reminded me that I needed to start jogging. The good news was that it distracted me from a heavy-duty case of anxiety. Unfortunately, the good news only lasted until we reached the door to the cellar. I sucked in a calming breath, opened the door and descended. Chakra followed me in silence.

  I headed for the far wall where Riitta kept the tools and chose a crowbar, and then, with my heart slamming against my ribs, I led the way to the connecting door with the other cellar, opened it and turned that light on, too. I shot a quick look at the coal chute which was, thank goodness, empty. And then I went to the center of the room.

  The cistern stood a few inches off the hard-packed dirt floor and was covered with a round iron lid. It looked heavy.

  "I'm guessing we're gonna use the crowbar to get that lid off," she said. I nodded.

  I worked the short end of the tool under the lid and used it as a fulcrum but even with both of us applying all our heft, we could only move the heavy iron cap a few centimeters at a time.

  When we'd shifted it three or four inches I called a halt and searched for my flashlight which, as luck would have it, I'd left in the car.

  "Use the light on the end of your cellphone," Chakra suggested. It was a small beam, of course, but big enough for us to see into the black interior of the cistern and strong enough to focus our attention on a worn patch on the sole of a work boot. I swallowed hard and moved the light a little. It caught the threads of stiff denim. Dungarees. I blinked back tears.

  "Let me guess," Chakra said. "Captain Jack?"

  There was nothing to be done. We couldn't touch the body. All we could do was call the sheriff's department and report what we'd found. Neither of us was inclined to talk. I found myself thinking about Danny Thorne. The discovery of the body seemed to corroborate his story about hearing Captain Jack on the circular stairs talking to someone coming up as he was going down. That person must have killed Alex then gone after Jack. As we climbed the cellar stairs and I led the way to the walnut staircase, I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes again.

  The lighthouse was eerie, full of shadows with the wind screaming around the corners outside and the rain splatting against the windows like a hail of pennies.

  "Let's hurry," I muttered to Chakra. I could feel her reluctance to climb up to the tower and I shared it but we had no choice. I thought Erik had been telling the truth about the letter hidden in the watch room and I had no confidence that it would still be there tomorrow. If there was a way to clear Tom Kukka and Danny, I had to find it tonight.

  The mellow tones of my cell phone sounded like the squeal of a stuck pig and my hand shook as I checked Caller ID. It took me a minute to recognize the unfamiliar name and pick up.

  "Mr. Wheeler," I said. "I had a question about the trust you set up for the late Mrs. Johanna Marttinen."

  "I'm afraid I can't help you with that. We do not discuss our clients."

  "She isn't your client any longer," I pointed out, "since she is dead."

  "She had an heir," he started to say.

  "Also dead. Murdered."

  "Murdered? On the Keweenaw?"

  "That's the verdict of the autopsy. We are trying to determine whether there was a financial motive for the crime."

  The reference to murder must have shaken him because suddenly he was all compliance.

  "Five million dollars is a lot of money," I added.

  Thunder roared overhead and lightning blazed against the windows, briefly turning the gloom to dazzling light.

  "Five million? Surely you mean three million. That was the value of the trust when it was dissolved. The funds were then withdrawn and deposited at Sturdy Bank down in Gogebic County. So you see, we no longer have any association with Mrs. Marttinen."

  Three million?

  "I have seen official documents signed by the Copper County Board of Commissioners chairman indicating the trust fund was five million," I said, in a voice calculated to neither threaten nor upset the bank officer. "Do you know what happened there?"

  "Yes, of course. The bequest was originally five million but when the trust was dissolved and the funds transferred, two million was siphoned off to be used for renovations and improvements to the lighthouse. It had been the wish of Mrs. Marttinen that the Painted Rock Lighthouse be used as a nursing home for the indigent of the Keweenaw."

  "A retirement home," I corrected him. "When exactly was the trust fund dissolved?"

  "You mean the date?"

  "Approximately."

  "Sometime last fall. I had just returned from my cottage."

  "Last fall? But Mrs. Marttinen died in June and I understood that the will allowed a year for her son and heir to come to Michigan to claim the property."

  "Oh, yes. Now I remember. It was irregular but the Copper County Board of Commissioners contacted Mrs. Marttinen's son who waived his rights to the lighthouse and the money. The boar
d had a list of old folks who wanted to live in the lighthouse so they decided to move early on the project."

  "And that's why they withdrew two million dollars at that time?"

  "That's right."

  Chakra and I exchanged startled looks.

  "Mr. Wheeler, who authorized the transfer and withdrawal of the money?"

  "It would have been the chairman of the county board."

  "Do you have the paperwork there? Could you check on that?"

  "There's no need. I handled the paperwork myself as soon as I got back in the office after Labor Day. William Alanen authorized the transfer."

  "You saw Mr. Alanen the day after Labor Day?"

  "Oh, no. He was very ill then and died right around that time but it was his name on the papers."

  "So you did the whole thing by mail?"

  "Certainly not. A transaction that size must be handled in person. I dealt with a very pleasant, very competent attorney who represented the light house commission. A Mr. Sundback."

  I thanked him and hung up.

  "Hatti," Chakra said, and for the first time since I'd known her, I heard fear in her voice, "we need to get out of here."

  "It's all right. Riitta's going to call me when they're ready to pick me up. We have a little time. Geez Louise. I can't believe the chutzpah of the man. First he lied about getting in touch with Alex then he stole two million dollars. How did he think it would never be discovered?"

  "He covered his bases," Chakra said, as we mounted the walnut stairs to the second floor landing. "He handled all the paperwork between the county and the bank and the lighthouse and, just to make doubly sure he wouldn't get questioned, he proposed to Riitta. You'll notice he only did that after Alex showed up and discovered that Danny was his son."

  "If Alex decided to give the lighthouse to Riitta, which he did, Erik as her husband was in the perfect position to continue to deal with all the paperwork and money," I said, continuing her thought. "It wasn't that much of a risk."

  "Except that Alex must have found out," Chakra said. She sighed. "He'd have been furious."

  "Erik probably tried to work something out with him," I put in. "He may have offered to replace the two million."

  Chakra shook her head. "Alex wouldn't have given any quarter on something like that. He detested being crossed, especially with money."

  "And so he had to die. And Flossie Ollanketo and Captain Jack along with him."

  "And possibly us if we don't get out of here, Hatti."

  "Soon," I said. "Erik intended to bring me out here to find the copy of the real letter Alex wrote to Riitta after which I'm sure he planned to destroy it. We're not going to let that happen."

  Chapter 34

  We'd reached the tiny landing in the tower. The doors were closed and the place looked and smelled like a school shut up for the summer. We'd only been gone a day but there was already a faintly musty odor. I went past my old bedroom and opened the door to the watch room and crossed over to the desk where I turned on the banker's lamp. I caught Chakra staring at the carpeted floor where she and Alex had shared their last moments together.

  "Memories?"

  "I was so sure he was the one. I thought we could have everything, you know?"

  "I know. Why don't you look in the secretary over there and I'll take the desk. We'll get through this as fast as we can and get the heck out of Dodge."

  She opened the glass doors in the hutch and started removing the books and the other objects like the clear deck prism, a diamond shaped glass object that had once been inserted in the deck of a sailing vessel, a hand-hammered copper pitcher and an antique mariner's storm glass.

  I sat in the old-fashioned swivel chair with the faded leather pads and examined the row of pigeonholes along the top of the mahogany desk. They were mostly empty except for three brass-barrel keys which, I assumed, would unlock the drawers of the desk. After a few abortive tries to get the right key into the right lock I accidentally jiggled the drawer at the top and it edged an inch. None of the drawers was locked which made sense since Alex no doubt had been using the desk right up until he died.

  The top drawer contained pens and pencils, an eraser and some pre-stamped, one-cent postcards. The second drawer held a telephone directory and a Finnish language Bible. The third drawer held a stack of papers some five inches thick. Leafing through them I recognized thirty-year-old tax returns, receipts, insurance bills, doctor's reports, a deed to a house in Rhode Island and so forth. Alex had said his mother never threw away anything and apparently he'd been right. Near the bottom of the stack I found a homemade card with a very inexpert picture of a reindeer and a crayon message written in a childish hand: You are my deer. Happy Valentime Day, Mommy.

  "Finding anything," Chakra asked.

  I murmured something, afraid to trust my voice.

  I put the papers back then ran my fingers over the top surface of the desk after which I got down on the floor in the kneehole and did the same on the underside. The wood was unfinished and a little rough but there were no seams, no indication of a secret drawer, no place to hide a copy of a letter.

  I dropped onto all fours to examine the wooden floorboards under the desk when an exclamation from Chakra brought me bolt upright.

  "What's wrong," I asked, as I cracked my head on the desk and slid off my knees, balancing my weight with the heel of one hand. The board under my hand popped up as if released by a spring.

  "Nothing. I just found a photo of Alex as a small boy."

  "Handsome?"

  "Unbelievably. We could have made beautiful babies."

  She sounded wistful and I wanted to comfort her but not only was my head throbbing, I was excited about what I'd discovered. I pried up the board and found a cache that was two inches by about eighteen inches and probably six inches deep. I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight. The largest item in the hole and the one that made my heart beat faster, was an envelope with Riitta's name on it. The flap was not gummed down and, with trembling fingers, I unfolded and read the typed letter.

  Dear Riitta,

  I have apologized for the past and will not bore you with a repetition of that. By the time you see this, I will have told you of my intentions. This note is to provide you with something in writing but know that, at one word from you, everything will be taken care of through my L.A. lawyer, J. Hampton West.

  You now own the light station and the trust fund amounting to approximately five million dollars. You can continue to run the old folks home or sell the place. You can use the money to support the lighthouse and/or to support yourself and Danny, or a combination of both. More than that, I am making Danny the chief beneficiary to my estate which, at present, is worth some one hundred million dollars, give or take. Don't get too excited. I don't intend to die anytime soon!

  There is something else I want you to know. Erik Sundback, using authority he took upon himself, dissolved my mother's trust fund ten months ago, transferred the funds to another bank and, in the process, managed to keep a couple of million dollars for himself. It is not necessary for you to address this issue as I have my own plans to deal with it. I just want you to know. He obviously has designs on you.

  I will get back the wandering two million for you.

  All the best,

  Alex Martin

  I should have grabbed the letter and Chakra and taken off as fast as possible but I couldn't resist looking into the cache in the floor. It was so obviously a boy's hiding place. It was full of arrowheads and Petoskey stones, granite, copper and agates. There was a calcified bird's egg, a slingshot, rubber bands, pennies and string. There were old erasers and pencils, a plastic protractor, an ivory coated slide rule and a tin compass with a stub of pencil still in it. Had he been a pirate burying his treasure? A spy? A prisoner of war trying to leave a record for future generations?

  My heart ached for the boy Alex had been and the man who'd lost his life in his prime. I gripped the compass and wished, for a furiou
s second, that I could stab the point into Erik Sundback's black heart.

  My phone chimed, echoing in the enclosed space and causing me to jump high enough to hit my head again. This time I didn't check caller I.D.

  "This is Hatti."

  "Hatti! Voi kahuia!" Riitta sounded hysterical. "It's Miss Thyra. She's gone! Kidnapped!"

  Maybe it was caused by the bump on the head but I caught a quick vision of Miss Thyra wearing her long black dress, her wrists bound behind her and a black scarf tied around her eyes. She was walking a plank.

  "Kidnapped? Did you get a ransom note?"

  "No note. She just disappeared."

  "Maybe she went out for a walk."

  "Hatti, it's raining cats and dogs. She didn't leave of her own accord. She was abducted."

  "How can you know that?"

  "Because. Listen to me, Henrikki. She left without making her bed."

  No other phrase could have conveyed the situation more clearly. Finnish American ladies, especially those in Miss Thyra's generation, never left the house with their dishes undone or their beds unmade.

  "When was the last time you saw her?"

  "Erik spoke to her before he left for the office, just as we sat down for the tea party. She told him she'd join us later and, after he gave me the message, he left. I thought she was asleep. I went to check on her a few minutes ago."

  So there was only Erik Sundback's word for Miss Thyra's whereabouts.

  "Erik's on his way back from Houghton. He told me to sit tight and he'd pick me up, then we'd come get you and go over to Frog Creek."

  "I don't think you should wait for him," I said, trying not to communicate my anxiety. Now that I suspected that Erik had proposed to Riitta to hedge his bets, I didn't think she was safe with him. "You go ahead on over to the sheriff's office and talk to Ellwood about this."

  "I can't go anywhere. Danny's got my car."

  I muffled a curse. "Okay, then. Just call 911 and tell Ellwood. He'll understand about the unmade bed."

  "Hatti? Why don't you want me to wait for Erik?"

  I hated to tell her but she was going to have to know sometime.