Peach Cobbler Murder (27 page)

“Okay. That’s building number two on the second floor.”

“You’ve been here before?” Hannah was curious.

“Every time I drive the dance class car pool. One of Tracey’s friends lives in building number three. Those are the two-bedroom units.”

Hannah looked out the window with interest as Andrea drove past the A-frame clubhouse with siding cleverly formed to look like logs, and around the side of building number two. There were designated parking spots for the residents under a sloping roof that jutted out from the back of the building, but the area for the visitors was uncovered. Andrea pulled into one of the visitors’ spots and shut off the engine. “Okay. Let’s go defend Mother’s honor.”

“It could be a little late for that,” Hannah said, grinning impishly.

“I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go.”

A sign announced that the front door was to be kept locked for security purposes and Andrea used their mother’s key. It opened onto a foyer that contained another door with another sign that said it was to be kept locked.

“They’re very security conscious,” Andrea noted, sticking her key in the lock, pushing the door open, and stepping into the carpeted interior.

Hannah followed her, grinning widely. “No, they’re not. Both of those doors had paper stuffed into the locks to keep them open.”

“No!” Andrea backed up to take a look, and then she turned to Hannah in shock. “You’re right! Absolutely anybody could have gotten in. Why did the sign say the doors were locked?”

”To keep out people who can read,” Hannah quipped, grabbing Andrea’s arm as her sister started to giggled uncontrollably again and leading her to the elevator.

The two sisters were silent as they rode up in the elevator. It was the kind Hannah hated, a car with mirrored walls that made it seem as if twenty or thirty fashionably thin blondes were stuffed into an infinite number of elevator cars with the same number of plump, frizzy-haired redheads.

“Whew!” Hannah breathed, stepping out of the elevator with relief. “That was just too synchronized to suit me.”

“Synchronized?”

“When I raised my hand to scratch my nose, all the redheads in the mirrors scratched, too.”

“I know what you mean. I didn’t like looking at that many me’s.”

Even though they didn’t see any tenants, Hannah and Andrea were quiet as they walked down the hallway and stopped in front of Winthrop’s door. Without being told, Andrea kept watch while Hannah unlocked the door and then they both stepped in and closed it behind them. Still perfectly silent, they tiptoed from kitchen, to bath, to bedroom, glancing in each door before Hannah finally spoke out loud.

“It’s okay. He’s gone. What do you think of the place?”

Andrea glanced around the living room and shrugged. “It’s . . . generic. Just like Winthrop.”

“Generic!” Hannah crowed, bursting into delighted laughter. “That’s exactly the right word for him. Winthrop’s a generic Englishman, typical in every way. It’s like he took his personality straight from the pages of a book.”

“A movie where he plays an English lord. He’s not the type that reads.”

“You’re probably right.” Hannah took a tour around the room. “This is much too tasteful to suit me.”

“It’s too tasteful to suit anybody. I don’t know how Mother can stand it here.” Andrea got up to look at the framed pictures on the mantel over the fake fireplace and gasped.

“What?” Hannah asked.

“These pictures. That’s Pete and Daisy.”

“You know them?”

“I know of them,” Andrea corrected. “It’s a kids’ movie about a boy and his dog. I took Tracey and Karen to see it last year. I thought it was cute, but Winthrop must have liked it a lot to frame pictures of the characters.”

“Not necessarily. Maybe he just wanted pictures on his mantel and he didn’t want to use real photos.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . he didn’t dare use pictures of real people from his past.”

“Okay. But why didn’t he dare to use real pictures?”

“Because he’s running from the law?”

“Or for the law. Winthrop could be in the witness protection program.”

“I supposed, but he doesn’t look like the type. Then again, people in the witness protection program aren’t supposed to look like the type to be in the witness protection program. Maybe you were right the first time and he just happened to love that movie. How about the rest of the pictures? Do you see any other famous movie stars?”

“I don’t think so.” Andrea went over for a closer look. “Pete and Daisy are the only ones, but . . . “ She stopped at one picture and flipped it over.

“What?” Hannah asked.

“This is a Keep-It frame.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a brand name they carry at CostMart. I just bought a Keep-It frame for the picture Norman took of Tracey on The Cookie Jar float in the Fourth of July parade.”

“Is that important?” Hannah asked, knowing that it sometimes took her sister a while to get to the heart of a story.

“It could be.” Andrea walked over with the picture. “See this older couple in the frame?”

“I see them. Are they famous movie stars?”

“No, but they could be famous picture frame models. I’m almost certain it’s the same couple that came in the Keep-It frame I bought for Tracey’s photo.”

“Winthrop bought these frames at CostMart and left the demo pictures in them?”

“I think so. I just framed Tracey’s photo last night and I think the demo photo is still in the wastebasket. I‘ll look when I get home and call you.”

“Okay.” Hannah patted her sister on the back. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I never would have noticed.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think it’s illegal to buy picture frames and leave the demo pictures in them.”

“No, but it is suspicious. You start in here and see what else you can uncover. I’m going to look for those rubber gloves and tackle his bedroom.

“I’m up. I’m up,” Hannah groaned, sitting up in an evasive maneuver to avoid Moishe’s sandpaper tongue. The raspy licks were Moishe’s way of telling her that it was morning in the frozen tundra, she should hurry and shut off the alarm clock because it hurt his ears, and his food bowl was empty.

Hannah slapped the Off button on the alarm clock before it had time to do more than give the first electronic squawk, and shoved her feet into the soft fur-lined moccasins she used for winter slippers. “Come on, Moishe. I need coffee. There’s no way I want to go back to sleep and dream that dream again!”

She slipped on her warmest robe, an ancient chenille that had faded so much Hannah could only guess at its original color. She’d found the robe at the Helping Hands Thrift Shop when she’d first come back to Lake Eden, and she’d gladly paid the dollar they’d asked for it. It reminded her of her Grandma Ingrid’s robe and wearing it was almost like a hug from the grandmother she missed every time she baked on of her recipes.

“I dreamed about Shawna Lee and Vanessa,” Hannah explained, on her way down the hallway toward the kitchen. “They were at Wimbledon playing tennis, and Winthrop’s head was the ball.”

“Roww!” Moishe commented, reaching out to give her slipper a halfhearted swipe.

“I know it could have been worse, but that was bad enough. I think I dreamed about them because I’ve got the picture Andrea and I borrowed from . . . “

“Roww!” Moishe interrupted loudly.

“Okay. You’re right. We stole it. But I’m going to put it back this afternoon and that means it was only borrowed.”

“Roww!” Moishe commented again, a little louder this time.

“All right. We borrowed it without permission. Will that do?” Hannah grinned down at him as he gave another yowl. Some people claimed that cats didn’t understand what their people were saying, but Moishe meowed at the appropriate places and Hannah was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Anyway, I’ve got the picture and I can’t tell which sister it is. Neither can Andrea. Mike could probably tell, but there’s no way I want to ask him!”

Once Moishe had been fed and the caffeine from her first cup of coffee was coursing through her grateful veins, Hannah headed off to the shower. She always tried to shower and dress before fully awakening, and this morning was no exception.

Less than ten minutes later, Hannah was sitting at her kitchen table. She was halfway through her second cup of coffee when full awareness hit and then she gave a tortured groan. “Mother,” she said.

“Oww!” Moishe howled, arching his back.

“That’s true, but I should have called to tell her about Winthrop’s frames last night. Of course, maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t. We should have all our ducks lined up in a row before we shoot Winthrop down.”

Moishe seemed to approve of that concept because he squinted before he returned to his food bowl, the closest he ever got to actually smiling. And to show his enthusiasm for shooting Winthrop down, or the ducks in a row, Hannah wasn’t quite sure which, he crunched much louder than usual. Hannah was just hoping that he wouldn’t break a tooth and need a kitty dentist when the solution to their problem hit her.

“Norman!” she exclaimed, causing Moishe to startle and look up at her. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you just gave me a great idea.” Hannah grabbed the canister of fish-shaped salmon-flavored treats her feline adored and tossed a couple in his direction. “It’s just like that forensic dentistry program we watched last week. Both Vanessa and Shawna Lee were Norman’s patients. And the woman in the picture is smiling. Norman can probably tell which sister it is by comparing their dental records.”

Hannah grabbed her steno pad and wrote down her plans for the day BAKE went on the first line, NORMAN & PIX on the second, and RETURN PIX on the third. Then she flipped to the pages she’d used to jot notes about Shawna Lee’s murder to see if any lightbulbs would go on over her head.

She’d listed the suspects on the first page and Hannah reviewed them. The first Mike and the motive listed was a lovers’ quarrel. Hannah had crossed his name out when Andrea had cleared him by talking to Marjorie Hanks. There was no way Mike could have murdered Shawna Lee when he’d been within sight and sound of Marjorie’s vacuum at the sheriff’s station the whole time.

Next on the list were the wives of several deputies that Shawna Lee had flirted with blatantly. Their motives were jealousy. But every single wife had an alibi and so did their deputy husbands. They’d all attended Lisa and Herb’s wedding and they’d arrived at the reception in a group.

Ronni Ward’s name was next on her list, but Hannah had crossed it out. While it was extremely unlikely that Ronni had hobbled around the back of the bakery with her ankle in a cast to shoot Shawna Lee, Hannah had called to make certain that Ronni had spent the whole day and night at Lake Eden Hospital.

Barbara Donnelly’s name was next on the list and it was also crossed out. Hannah had done that after Norman’s report. He’d cleaned Barbara’s teeth and she’d mentioned that she’d gone to the wedding and the reception with Nettie Grant. One call to Nettie had confirmed that and Barbara was in the clear.

Farther down on the page, right after the horizontal line Hannah had drawn to denote a change in her thinking, was the VANESSA in block letters. At this point, Andrea had raised the question about whether the killer might have mistaken Shawna Lee for Vanessa, and they’d talked about new motives and new suspects. Gloria Travis was listed, but after they’d met with Gloria, Hannah had added a question mark behind her name. Gloria didn’t have an alibi and she’d admitted that she had good reason to kill the woman she’d thought was Vanessa, but neither Hannah nor Andrea thought she’d done it.

Hannah picked up her pen and tapped it lightly against the paper. Should she? Or shouldn’t she? She debated that question for a moment and then she wrote down Winthrop’s name. She didn’t know if he had a motive, but the picture of Vanessa or Shawna Lee in his underwear drawer must mean something. It was true that he’d been at Lisa and Herb’s wedding, but not for the entire ceremony. He’d left to get the rice Delores had left in the car. Perhaps he’d only been gone for a few minutes, but it only took a few minutes to dash up to the Magnolia Blossom Bakery, shoot Shawna Lee through the window, stash his gun in the car, and race back to the church with the rice.

Moishe yowled again and Hannah turned to look at him. “I know. I’m probably not being fair. But there’s something strange about Winthrop. Why would an English lord come to Lake Eden anyway?”

Another yowl from Moishe caused Hannah to reconsider. “I know the fishing’s good, but it’s not summer and Winthrop hasn’t mentioned word one about fishing. And it’s not like he crash-landed here from another planet, or something. He’s got to have come to Lake Eden for a purpose . . . but what?”

Moishe yowled for the third time and Hannah was about to praise him for his scintillating morning conversation when she noticed that his food bowl was empty. Moishe wasn’t having a stimulating dialogue with his mistress. He was yowling for more food. Hannah filled his bowl again, stuck her steno book in her shoulder bag purse, slipped into her parka coat, and headed out the door.

The cold air hit her like a blast in the face and Hannah pulled her knit watch cap down low over her ears. She hurried down the stairs, grateful for the roof over the outside staircase that kept the snow and ice off the treads, and dashed across the sidewalk to the concrete steps that led down to the garage.

Her cookie truck was in her spot, just as Cyril had promised. The mechanic who’d brought it had plugged it I and it was sparkling clean. It was one of the things Hannah loved about taking her truck to Cyril’s garage. He always washed it after his mechanics had done their work. Hannah unplugged the cord, wrapped it around her bumper, and slid behind the wheel. It was time to drive to work.

Once she’d back out of her parking spot, Hannah drove up the ramp and onto the winding road that led through her condo complex. Except for the lovely old-fashioned globe streetlights, darkness surrounded her. It was only four-thirty in the morning and not that many people were awake at that hour. Hannah saw one light on in a unit that she knew belonged to a couple that had a small baby, but the rest of the complex was deep in sleep.