Dead Man's Image

by Curry, Edna

  “Somebody pushed her off the cliff, I'd say.”

  “Oh-my-God!”

  “I talked to Mrs. Hendricks' maid. She says that Mrs. Hendricks went bird watching early yesterday. The coroner says she died about three yesterday afternoon. Where were you then, Menns?”

  Paul blanched and said nothing. His lips drew into a stubborn, straight line.

  “Tell him, Paul,” Lacey cried. “Tell him you didn't do it!”

  He looked straight at Ben and said, “I didn't kill her. But I don't have an alibi, either.”

  “Paul!” Lacey's voice came out strident. She knew she was sounding desperate, but she couldn't help it. “Tell him where you were! The gardener saw you there. He can verify it.”

  He gave her a sad little smile. “I'm sorry, Lacey. I can't do that. I gave my word.”

  Lacey turned back to Ben. “I don't believe this. Why do you think Paul did it? First you say he killed his brother, now you say he killed this woman. On what evidence?”

  “Calm down, Lacey girl,” Ben said stoically. “Mrs. Hendricks' maid says her boss got a phone call two days ago and was very upset. Then she immediately called the police to revoke her story of seeing the man dump the body. It seems pretty likely to me that Paul here is the one who made that call.”

  “I don't believe it. Paul?”

  Paul shook his head. “I didn't call her. There must be some way to prove that. Long distance phone records maybe? Calling to Minneapolis is long distance from here.”

  Ben sighed. “You could have used a pay phone or someone else's phone. You can argue about it later.”

  “But that doesn't prove anything,” Lacey insisted.

  “I think it does. It shows Mrs. Hendricks' first story was the true one. She saw Paul dump the body and described him for the police artist. That's good enough for now. I'd suggest that you get a good lawyer, Menns. Read him his rights, Tom.”

  Chapter 12

  Numbly, Lacey watched Sheriff Ben and Deputy Tom walk Paul out to the police car and drive away.

  The happiness she'd felt that morning had disappeared, like fog over the lake before the rising sun. She was so scared for Paul.

  Because she'd fallen in love with him, she realized. She'd broken her own rule against getting involved with a client, and now she might lose him.

  He'd chosen to protect Nora over his own freedom. Why wouldn't he tell Ben he'd been to see Nora? What had Nora ever done for him to deserve such loyalty? His loyalty was misplaced, of course, but she had to admire him for it.

  She had to help him. She couldn't let him down.

  Paul needed proof he didn't make that call to Mrs. Hendricks. So she had to show the sheriff he was wrong. She picked up the phone to call her connection at the telephone company. Then she remembered that she still had the key to Paul's apartment. The telephone company would have caller ID, and she'd be more likely to find out what she needed to know if she was calling from his own telephone.

  She drove there and met no one in the hallway on the way up to his apartment.

  Unlocking the door with his key, she stepped inside and came face to face with a huge man with a drawn gun in his hand.

  “Hold it right there, lady.”

  Lacey froze, swallowing a scream of surprise.

  He stood with feet apart, watching her from about six feet away, obviously ready for action. After a wide-eyed glance at the gun, she raised her hands in submission. She fastened her gaze on his, immediately wary and ready for action. The man was over six feet tall and outweighed her by eighty pounds. She didn't have much chance of taking him. “Who…who are you?”

  “More to the point, lady, who the hell are you? And what are you doing with a key to my boss's apartment?”

  “Your…boss's apartment? Paul is your boss?”

  “Yeah.” His dark eyes narrowed in his round face, and his frown seemed to bring his crew cut down even farther over his low forehead. “That's what I said. Answer me! Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Before Lacey could answer, she sensed a movement beside her and started to turn. Something hit her head and everything went black as she fell to the floor.

  “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “I didn't want her to see me or get any information out of you. Don't you know better than to answer questions?”

  “Well, damn it, Gus, I'd have found out who she is, if you hadn't knocked her out. Is she still alive?”

  “Yeah,” Gus said, putting a hand to her neck to feel a pulse.

  Hank opened her purse and found her billfold. “She's Lacey Summers, a private investigator. Paul must have hired her.”

  “A PI?” Gus sneered. “Why would he hire a PI?”

  “Because he's been accused of murdering his twin, I suppose. Let's get out of here before someone else shows up. You got the files you wanted, didn't you?”

  “Yeah. But I bet she knows where Paul is. If we keep an eye on her, we'll find him.”

  ***

  After a while, Lacy came to, groaning. She put up a hand to the lump on her head. Her head throbbed in pain, but there didn't seem to be any blood. The apartment was quiet. Looking around cautiously, she saw that the men were gone. Her purse lay on the floor near her. Quickly opening it, she saw her billfold and gun still inside it. Well, robbery hadn't been their motive, then.

  Groaning, she took some aspirin from her purse and went to the kitchen for a drink of water to soothe her dry throat. Then she found some ice cubes and made an ice pack for her aching head.

  After debating with herself whether to report getting hit, she decided against it. She doubted it would accomplish anything and she didn't want to explain to Ben why she was here in Paul's apartment again.

  She doubted the men would return, so she tackled the problem of tracing the long distance telephone call to Mrs. Hendricks.

  She found one of Paul's telephone bills so she'd have his account number and telephone number in front of her, then called her contact at the telephone company. After a few minutes of voice mail and arguing with people who wanted to pass the buck, she got her friend. Then she waited again while he punched it up on his computer to look up her request.

  Finally, he said, “No, there's no long distance call on Paul's bill to the Hendricks' home. Of course, that doesn't prove he didn't make it from any other telephone, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “We don't record incoming calls. So I don't have a record of whether she got such a call.”

  “I understand. Thanks anyway.” With a sigh, she hung up, knowing her worry over Paul was adversely affecting her ability to do her job. She'd been a fool to fall in love. She knew emotional involvement affected her judgment, but it was too late to change that now.

  She decided to go see Nora Munson even though she knew Paul wouldn't like it when he found out.

  Nor would Nora's husband. A direct approach was probably not what Hal had had in mind when he'd asked her to find out what was wrong, but she was feeling desperate.

  Sheriff Ben had sounded too sure of himself. What if he really could make a murder rap stick? He had two murder cases to solve now, and that probably raised the chances of his finding at least some circumstantial evidence that could point to Paul.

  The innocent were not always proven innocent, as she well knew. There was a real possibility that Paul could go to jail. She couldn't even allow herself to think about that.

  She arrived at Nora's house and rang the bell.

  Nora opened the door herself. “Yes?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Munson. I'm Lacey Summers. May I talk to you for a moment, please?”

  Nora looked at her warily. “Do I know you?”

  Lacey shook her head. “I'm here on behalf of your son, Paul Menns.”

  Nora's face blanched under her make-up. She leaned back against the half-open door for support and her mouth trembled as she whispered, “What did you say?”

  “I think you heard me very well, Mrs. Mu
nson.” Lacey said firmly. She stepped inside, easily pushing past the numb woman holding the half-open door.

  Closing the door, Lacey glanced around the neat-as-a-pin living room. Real paintings in gold frames hung on the walls. Lacey's shoes sank into the thick plush carpet. An interior decorator who had been told money was no object had done this house.

  Nora seemed incapable of speech or action so Lacey took charge. Nora meekly walked beside her through her beige living room and into the gleaming yellow and white kitchen.

  “Do you have any coffee or tea?” Lacey asked briskly, noting a full pot in the coffeemaker on the counter.

  “Of course,” Nora said hoarsely, giving herself a little shake. “I'm forgetting my manners. Please, have a chair and I'll get you a cup.”

  Good. She's gotten control of herself. Lacey waited for the inevitable question and it came as soon as Nora had poured their coffee, then sat opposite her.

  “Who are you, and how do you know about Paul?”

  “I'm Paul's…friend, a private investigator. He hired me after he learned he was a suspect in his brother John's death.”

  Nora's face had regained its color, and her eyes were sharp and wary. “So you know about John, too?”

  “Yes. You saw the newspapers and the story that birdwatcher, Mrs. Hendricks told?”

  Nora nodded, obviously puzzled. “What is all this leading up to?”

  “Mrs. Hendricks' body was picked off the rocks below a cliff in Interstate Park yesterday. Paul has been arrested for murdering both her and John.”

  Nora blanched again. “Oh, no. I don't believe it. Paul wouldn't do that. He seemed very nice.”

  Lacey said morosely, “I don't believe it either, Nora, but Sheriff Ben does. Paul refuses to say where he was yesterday afternoon. He was here with you, wasn't he?”

  Nora nodded, keeping her gaze focused down into her coffee. Her fingers turned her cup round and round in its china saucer.

  “Paul said you don't want anyone to know about this, Nora, but it's important that you tell the sheriff now, so he'll let Paul go.”

  Nora closed her eyes, pain etched in the lines of her face, refusing to answer.

  “I know Ben very well, Nora. I'm sure you can count on him to keep your secret.”

  “No. I can't do that. I won't!”

  “Nora, you must tell! It's Paul's only hope!”

  Nora pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head, looking at Lacey with fierce anger in her eyes. “No!” she said. “It might get out. This is a small town. Everybody always finds out everything. I can't take that chance. I gave my sons up years ago. I missed out on their growing up years. I can't change that now.”

  Lacey watched her, noting the pain in her face. How could she get through to her? She remembered that Marion had said Nora liked to work with children.

  Softly, she said, “You missed all those years, Nora, but you don't have to give up the future years. Or the possibility of having grandchildren some day.”

  Nora swallowed painfully at that, but raised her chin resolutely. “Hal has been my life, he'd never understand or forgive me.”

  “Nora, please. You must tell! Paul's life may depend on it.”

  “No. I can't.”

  Lacey stared at her angrily, then stood up to leave. “Then I will.”

  Nora's eyes narrowed. “If you tell, I'll simply deny it and say you were trying to extort money from me. That happens to rich people all the time.”

  Lacey stopped and chewed her lip. She'd gone too far and blown it. Nora had turned stubborn.

  “My husband and I are important people in this town. No one will believe you over me.”

  “Hal might,” Lacey said, biting her tongue not to tell Nora her husband was already suspicious of her. Yikes, I almost violated a client's trust. My morals are going out the window over this man.

  “I don't think so. The adoption records were sealed. There's nothing that will ever connect me to the twins.” Nora stood as well, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. Her voice was now calm and controlled. She was the regal society queen once more, clearly indicating this interview was over.

  “Paul will deny it and back me up, too. It'll be your word against mine. You'll see.” She began walking to the door and opened it for Lacey.

  Knowing she was defeated, Lacey left. Bitterness rose in her throat as she walked to her car.

  Nora was right. No one would believe her. Ben already suspected she and Paul were lovers. If she told him that story, he'd assume she was making it up in a desperate attempt to give Paul an alibi. She'd failed Paul.

  She went home, ate some lunch and went back to work at her desk. An hour later, Marion called to remind Lacey she'd promised to help with the pie social at two. Stifling a groan of frustration, Lacey agreed to meet her at the church.

  It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and there were many tourists out for the weekend. When Lacey arrived, picnic tables were set up under the trees on the church lawn and people were already seated there eating. One table held pies, and women were standing beside it, dipping ice cream and collecting money. She didn't see Marion, and went on to the basement in search of her. The kitchen was already humming with people working.

  Lacey spied Marion at the side counter in the kitchen, knife in hand. Marion waved the knife at her, mouthing, “Over here,” at her, a wide smile on her face. Every surface seemed to be covered with pies of every flavor.

  “What do you want me to do?” Lacey asked, joining her at the counter.

  “Get a knife from that drawer over there, and cut these pies into six pieces each. They go onto these small plates,” she pointed at the tall stack of heavy crockery beside her, “and then onto these trays. Try to get a good variety of kinds on each tray. Then one of the other ladies will take them to the tables outside where they'll add the ice cream as people choose them. Got it?”

  At Lacey's nod, Marion turned back to cutting the dozen pies in front of her. They worked quickly, the trays of pies disappearing as fast as they filled them. Other women were busily returning and washing plates and pie pans, their lively chatter echoing through the basement rooms.

  Finally, they'd finished cutting every pie and Marion said, “Let's go have some pie ourselves before we leave, okay?”

  Lacey nodded. They went out on the lawn where she stuffed herself with blueberry pie and ice cream while Marion enjoyed lemon meringue.

  They felt quite alone at the table they'd taken on the edge of the crowd, so Lacey took the opportunity to pour out her frustration over Paul's arrest to her friend.

  She told her as much as she dared without violating her client's trust.

  Marion smiled smugly. “You've fallen in love with this guy, haven't you?”

  Lacey almost choked on her pie. “I didn't say that!”

  Tipping her head, Marion countered, “But it's true, isn't it?”

  “Yes,” Lacey sighed. “I suppose I have. Not that anything will ever come of it.”

  “Oh, I don't know about that. Things usually have a way of working out.”

  “Not when a murder charge is involved. Not to mention a stubborn sheriff like Ben.”

  Marion reached out to pat her hand. “You know I'm always here, if you want to talk about it, Lacey.”

  “Thanks, Marion. You're a good friend.” She finished her pie and looked around miserably, about to take her leave. She hadn't seen Hal's office girl, Candy Jones.

  Nor had she seen Pastor Bob. She was about to give up on getting a chance to talk to him when she heard his voice behind her, heartily greeting Hal Munson.

  Perking her ears while she watched Marion light a cigarette, she shifted her chair so she could glance their way. Hal was talking earnestly to the Pastor, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. She couldn't hear what he said, but suddenly Hal's voice rose and carried clearly in the summer air. “Don't pull that 'confidential' stuff on me, Pastor. I'm one of your largest contributors, and I may just forget to write a che
ck this year.”

  A soft rumble was all the reply that carried to Lacey's interested ears. Then, “Who's the man?”

  Lacey risked another glance, and saw that the Pastor was shaking his head and she heard, “…no rival…don't be upset…”

  They turned aside and walked to Hal's car, still talking, but Lacey could no longer hear any of it. Hal drove away, sand spitting behind spinning wheels as he gunned the motor.

  The pastor strode off toward the main part of the church. Lacey sighed. No point in trying to talk to him now.

  “I'd better get back to work.”

  Marion nodded. “Thanks for your help, Lacey.”

  “No problem.”

  As Lacey wove through the tables across the church lawn, she saw Candy, the girl she'd wanted to talk to from Hal's secretarial pool.

  She detoured to the serving table and bought another cup of coffee, then casually moved to sit across from Candy.

  In a friendly voice, she introduced herself, and began asking questions, all in a neighborly, chatty way.

  Candy answered readily enough, but nothing Lacey learned seemed to help her in any way. Candy obviously liked her job, and although she considered Hal a 'gruff old bear,' she apparently thought he was a great person and good boss.

  So much for any help from Candy.

  ***

  His head in his hands, Paul sat on the bed in his small cell at the county jail. He was right back where he'd started from when he'd first seen his computer image in the Star Tribune and learned that he was accused of murder.

  Only now he had two counts against him, and had probably put Lacey in danger as well. The real murderer was still out there, even if he couldn't convince the sheriff of it. He'd never forgive himself if whoever it was got to her. He should have just gone to jail the first time, until this mess got straightened out.

  The gleeful look he'd seen on Ben's face when he closed the cell door didn't bode well for his chances of getting out. Not if Ben could think of any reason to keep him locked up. Damn the man.

  Ben had even seemed pleased to be able to keep Paul away from Lacey, commenting, “Lacey and I go 'way back, and I don't want to see her hurt.”