The Mystery Sisters series Box Set

by Karen Musser Nortman

  Lil said, “To get back to your question, Bob, I didn’t see anything about the Murphys in the pages that I looked at.”

  “Me either,” Carol said.

  Max shook her head. “Nor did I, but maybe Tess did.”

  “What does Tess have to do with this?” Sharon asked, frowning.

  “She helped.” Max didn’t elaborate on helped with what. “So Bill Murphy retired with a good settlement before the business was sold. We know that for sure?”

  “That’s what your dad told me,” Bob said.

  “According to Pete, he lost everything with a bad investment, and then committed suicide. Does anyone know if that’s true?” Max looked around at the group.

  “He did commit suicide,” Sharon said. “I remember hearing about that. But I never heard anything about why.”

  “But there doesn’t seem to be any reason why Pete would hold a grudge against us or Dutch,” Lil said.

  Harold agreed. “No, there doesn’t. So why don’t you fill us in on who the other suspects are that you ‘happened’ upon?”

  Max got up. “I made a list. I’ll get it.”

  When she returned, she could tell that Sharon had been pumping Lil and Carol about the manuscript. Sharon quickly shut her mouth with a guilty look when Max stepped back outside.

  Carol said, “Maybe we should talk to Beatrice.”

  Max sat down with her tablet. “I didn’t know she was even still alive.”

  “Who’s Beatrice?” Harold asked.

  “She was Dad’s secretary/business manager for years. Yes, Max, she’s alive. She’s in the assisted living wing of the nursing home. I don’t know how her memory is.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to try,” Max said. “I’m sure she knew more about the business than all of us put together. So we need a plan for tomorrow. We should divide and conquer. We need to talk to Sheriff Burns and Bea. Also the attorney to see what he knows.”

  “We need to talk to the mayor about the possibility of turning the plant into some kind of community center—see how the city feels about that and how much help they might be willing to give us,” Carol said. “I really want to get something going with that memorial money.”

  Max waved her hand. “That isn’t the urgent issue right now. We—wait a minute. Isn’t the mayor that Junie Coonley?”

  Carol grinned. “Yes, it is.”

  “Okay, two birds with one stone. I’ll talk to the sheriff and the mayor. You take Bea and Larsen. Lil can go with you.”

  “Good thing we have you to tell us what to do,” Lil said, earning a dirty look from her sister.

  With a plan in hand, it was time for bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning after breakfast, Max in her car and Lil and Carol in Carol’s car, caravanned to town. Bob asked Donnie to help him with field work, and Donnie readily agreed. His wife, Janet, wasn’t due to arrive until after lunch.

  The women stopped first at Annie’s to say goodbye to Sharon, Harold, Kim, Ernie and Chelsea. To their surprise, Chelsea was still in shorts and a sleep tee shirt, her hair a nest of tangles, and she lounged in one of the kitchen chairs.

  Annie gave her mother a wry smile. “Chelsea wants to hang around a while. She said she would help out with the kids.”

  Chelsea looked up and said, “Yeah.” But her enthusiasm was somewhat lacking.

  Carol raised her eyebrows at Annie, but didn’t say anything.

  Sharon and Kim both looked apologetic. “So where are you off to today?” Sharon asked.

  Max explained about their planned visits to the sheriff, the mayor, the nursing home, and the lawyer. Chelsea perked up. “Can I go?”

  Max found Chelsea an unpleasant child to be around and was not happy about the idea, but Carol said, “Sure, but you have to get dressed.”

  Annie led Chelsea upstairs to arrange a room for her. Sharon said, “Thank you. I hope she isn’t a nuisance, but she hardly ever shows interest in anything.” She paused and grinned. “Especially riding around with a bunch of old ladies.”

  “But I have a cool car,” Max said. “Of course she wants to go with me.” And then wondered what made her say that.

  Sharon gave them all hugs. “Thank you again. Call me if there’s problems. I don’t want Annie to have to deal with any trauma.”

  “We will. She should be fine. She doesn’t know anyone here,” Carol said.

  Lil added, “New playgrounds, new playmates?”

  Sharon nodded. “They do recommend that.”

  Chelsea joined them a few minutes later, her phone gripped in her hand. Her grandmother said to her, “Now, don’t let these ladies lead you astray. They don’t have the best reputations.”

  Chelsea squeezed out an ‘Oh, sure’ smile. “I’ll be careful.”

  Sharon turned to her sisters. “She thinks I’m kidding.”

  “I’m insulted.” Lil put her hand on her chest. “But I’ll get over it. Let’s go—we have a busy day ahead.”

  Lil put Carol’s walker back in the trunk of Carol’s car. After they left for the nursing home, Chelsea took the passenger seat in the Studebaker and they were off to the sheriff’s office. On the way, Chelsea asked, “I don’t mean to be nosey, but why do you care about old records?”

  “We’re trying to find out who killed Dutch Schneider so Uncle Donnie gets off the hook,” Max said.

  Sheriff Burns was giving instructions to one of his deputies and looked up as they entered.

  “I hope I’m not in trouble.” He grinned. “You ladies look pretty determined.”

  “We just need to talk a minute,” Max said. “Do you have time?”

  He looked at his watch. “I have about fifteen minutes. Let’s go back to my office.”

  They followed him down a narrow hall to a medium sized room, sparsely furnished. He directed them to go on in while he grabbed a chair from an adjoining room.

  “Have a seat.” He sat at his desk, pushed some papers to one side, and clasped his hands in front of him. “What can I do for you? No more incidents, I hope.”

  “No, but we’re wondering if you’ve found out anything about the others. Do you have an identification of the truck that pulled that float?” Max asked.

  He leaned back in his chair. “No, we don’t. We did get film from the security camera at the bank drive up across the street, but they had covered the license plate, and none of my deputies recognized it as being local. We’re putting a request for information on the county website, but I don’t know how many actually look at that.”

  Chelsea said, “Maybe you should put it on Facebook.”

  The sheriff pointed his finger at her. “Good idea.” She grinned.

  “Don’t you think that the attacks will stop now that most of the family has left town?” asked Max.

  Sheriff Burns nodded but looked skeptical. “We hope so. We did find some tire tracks at the plant. Are the vehicles that you drove there still around so that we could compare and see if there’re any unidentified ones?”

  “I drove,” Max said, “and Annie brought her van. Who else?” She looked at Chelsea.

  Chelsea had been fidgeting in her chair, perhaps nervous because she wasn’t used to being in a place like this without being in trouble. At Max’s question, she straightened in her chair, obviously pleased to be asked. “Aunt Carol drove, and the guy who takes care of the place.” She blushed a little.

  Max smiled. “Trevor Jasper. So they should all be available to check against.”

  “Good,” Burns said. “Do you have your car out here now?”

  “Yes,” Max said.

  “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll have Bergman get a reference print.” Seeing the look on Max’s face, he added, “I will threaten him within an inch of his life if he harms the car. And if you would leave the names of the owners and locations of the other vehicles with Cathy at the desk, I would appreciate it.”

  Max handed over her keys. “Tell him not to change the seat adjustment or the r
adio station.”

  “Will do.”

  Chelsea giggled. Max gave her a stern look and stood up. “Thank you. We won’t take any more of your time.” They stopped at the reception desk to leave the requested information and by the time they finished—Cathy was interrupted several times by phone calls—the deputy, Bergman, had just finished driving the little Studebaker along a strip of brown paper leaving a clear pattern of the tire.

  “How did you do that?” Max asked the deputy.

  “Inked the tire.”

  “Ink?”

  He held up his hands. “It should be gone by the end of the day. Won’t hurt anything.”

  “Better not.”

  “Nice car, though.” He grinned.

  “Thanks.”

  The nursing home was a small, one-story brick building, but with neat landscaping and a warm, welcoming entrance. Carol asked the young woman at the reception desk for Beatrice Borgstad’s room number. She gave it to them but informed them that Beatrice had physical therapy appointment scheduled in half an hour. She directed them down the hall to the right.

  Most of the doors were closed and hung with artificial wreaths or pages from coloring books taped above the room numbers. Solid wood railings along the walls separated the red and pink flowered wallpaper on the bottom from the pale green paint on the top. The decor hadn’t been updated in some time, but it was cozy and no doubt reflected the tastes of many of the residents.

  Lil reached room 11 first and found the door standing open. Loud voices projected from the room. Since Carol had seen Beatrice most recently, Lil stepped aside to let her enter first.

  “Bea? It’s Carol Jacobsen Harstad. Remember me?”

  Beatrice sat in a lounge chair by the window, studiously watching a TV mounted on the wall above a chest of drawers. A talk show in progress blared with laughter, cheers, and screams. Beatrice was small and stooped with wispy grey hair framing her face. She looked around as if she wasn’t sure if Carol’s voice came from the TV show or somewhere else in the room. Finally her eyes came to rest and focus on the two women in the doorway.

  “Oh! Carol? Jacobsen, you say?”

  Carol walked forward and bent over Beatrice, taking her hand. “Yes. How are you? Do you remember my sister Lillian?”

  Beatrice sat up straighter. “Of course! How are you girls?”

  Lil laughed and took Bea’s other hand. “We’re fine, but no one has called us girls for a long time.”

  Bea beamed. “How wonderful to see you. Can you stay a bit? Have a seat?” She picked up a remote, turned off the TV, and indicated a beige love seat next to a small table with two chairs. A single bed and a kitchenette with an apartment sized refrigerator took up the rest of the room.

  “We can, just for a bit.” Carol pulled one of the chairs out to face her and Lil perched on the love seat. “We were told you have physical therapy scheduled soon.”

  Bea peered at a large clock on the wall. “Yes, I suppose I do. But we can visit a bit. Tell me where you all live now and what you are doing.”

  Lil did, keeping an eye on the clock. Then Carol said, “Bea, we have a few questions about the last years of our father’s company.”

  “Yes?” She looked a little confused. “That was a long time ago.”

  “I know it was,” Carol said, “but I don’t know if you heard about Dutch Schneider’s death?”

  “Oh, awful, awful. They said he was murdered?” Bea clenched her hands and shook her head. “A murder here in Castleroll. Awful.”

  “Yes, it is,” Lil said, “and our brother Donnie is being charged for it. We know he isn’t guilty so we’re trying to help him.”

  Bea put her hand on her sunken chest. “Little Donnie? Oh, no. That isn’t right.”

  Lil was not surprised at Bea’s reaction. She had always kept special treats in her desk drawer for Donnie whenever he showed up at the plant as a child. It had always been clear that he was the woman’s favorite.

  Carol tried to keep the focus. “Do you remember when Dad sold the company if there was more than one offer?”

  Bea turned and glanced out the window. “Let me see.” She looked back at them. “Yes, I think there was.”

  Lil said, “We have been told that there was another offer—a lower one—from someone who promised they would keep the plant open. Do you remember anything about that?”

  “I believe that’s right. Why?” Bea’s voice was soft and nonjudgmental. She might have been discussing the menu for lunch.

  “We’ve been wondering why Dad didn’t take that offer. We know he didn’t want to close the plant. There are a lot of people in town who are still angry about it. Do you know why he went with the other offer?”

  “He needed the money,” Bea said immediately, and with conviction.

  Carol looked at Lil, and Lil blurted “But he wasn’t broke or anything. Not even close.”

  “He lost a great deal of money with a bad investment. He had lots of long meetings with his lawyer and Bill Murphy.”

  “Bill Murphy?” Carol asked. “Hadn’t he retired by that time?”

  “Oh, yes. But he came back for these meetings.”

  “Did Bill talk Dad into the investment? Pete Murphy told us that his dad lost everything with some investment.”

  “I don’t know about that. I wasn’t privy to the meetings.” She sounded a little put out about that.

  A cheery voice called from the doorway. “Excuse me, Bea, but are you ready to go to your therapy?” A young woman with long straight brown hair rolled a wheelchair in. Her name tag read ‘Laura.’

  Bea sat up straighter and smiled. “Yes, dear. I was just visiting with the daughters of my old boss.” She turned to the sisters. “I’m sorry, but they are strict about schedules here.”

  “We understand,” Carol said and patted her hand. “Thank you for talking to us.”

  “One other quick question,” Lil said as Laura helped Bea into the wheel chair. “Was Hank Larson the attorney Dad was having those long meetings with?”

  “Oh yes, of course. Come back and see me again.” Bea lifted her hand in a wave as Laura pushed her chair toward the door.

  On the way out, Carol took time to visit with others in the common area whom she knew from church or community activities. They didn’t discuss Bea’s information until they were back in Carol’s car.

  “What do you think?” Carol said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  “We need to talk to Hank Larsen. I hate to keep asking this about people we used to know but he’s still alive, isn’t he? You said he retired.”

  “He is alive but has dementia real bad. He’s in a facility in Prairie City. He won’t be helping us.”

  “What about his son?” Lil asked. “Does he still have the company legal records?”

  “As far as I know. No one in the family was given any of them.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Max got the new city hall location from Cathy, who assured her that the mayor would be there in the mornings.

  On their way, Chelsea asked Max, “What does the mayor have to do with all this?”

  Max thought a moment before she answered. They hadn’t included any of the younger generation in their discussions of Donnie’s case and the family secrets. Maybe that was partly responsible for the girl’s attitude.

  “Well, we’re going for two reasons. First, the family needs to decide what to do with that old plant and we have some memorial money we could use to help fix it up for a community center—you know, for weddings and other celebrations. But the city would have to take charge of it. I want to see if there’s any interest on their part. Second, Junie Coonley is mentioned in the manuscript and may have a grudge against Dutch.”

  “What’s the deal about the manuscript?” Chelsea appeared to be trying to drill into Max’s mind.

  “We kind of borrowed it for a little bit.” Max pulled into the City Hall parking lot. She turned off the key but didn’t get out. Instead she turned in
her seat to look directly at Chelsea. “You have to promise not to tell a soul.”

  Chelsea wagged her head, more animated than Max had seen her all weekend.

  “Lil and I and a friend broke into the murdered man’s apartment Saturday night to get a look at this manuscript Dutch was writing.”

  Chelsea cocked her head and squinted her eyes. “Whaddya mean, ‘broke in’? You broke down a door or something?”

  “No, of course we didn’t break down the door. We’re old ladies, after all. I just crawled in a window and let the others in.”

  Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. “You crawled in a window?”

  “That’s what I said. I’m not that old. So there’s a connection to Her Honor the Mayor because Dutch mentioned in his book that there might have been some irregularity in her election. Also we heard rumors that she and Dutch were having an affair. Let’s go see what we can find out. Remember, mum’s the word about the break-in.” Max got out of the car.

  Chelsea followed her. “Mum’s the word?”

  “That means no spilling the beans. No talking.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  A middle-aged woman held a phone with the mouthpiece covered while she talked animatedly to a young man in a suit. She referred him to a numbered code book in another office and then noticed Max and Chelsea. “Can I help you?”

  “We’d like to speak to Mayor Coonley for a few minutes if we could,” Max said.

  The woman peered at them over her glasses, trying to place them. “May I tell her what this is about?”

  “We have a proposal for the old Jacobsen plant.”

  “What kind of proposal?”

  Max gave an exasperated sigh. “I would rather discuss that with her.”

  The woman shrugged. “I’ll see if she’s busy.” She headed down a long hall.

  Chelsea nudged Max and grinned. “Way to go, Aunt Maxine.”