The Easter Egg Murder (14 page)

35

Sunday Morning, April 16, 2000

Harrie opened her eyes, snapped them shut again, and moaned.
Note to self: three glasses of wine late in the evening is a bad idea.

The dream from last night was stranger than usual. She found herself observing the old west in the late 1800s. She saw a wagon train of
pioneers slogging their way through mountains, deserts, and wilderness on their way to California. At one point, she observed Philip Lawrence, looking haggard, dressed in boots and dusty clothes. He was the leader of the wagon train, and it was his job to deliver the pioneers safely to the trail’s end. A terrible storm came up. The wagons huddled together in a circle, and the rain beat down on them with fury. Lightning flashed all around, and the weary travelers were frightened. Suddenly an old man, white-haired and stooped, appeared out of the raging tempest. He stood in the middle of the circle of wagons, and lightening came from a staff he held high above his head. Philip Lawrence went out to face the man, and a bolt from the staff struck him down. A younger man broke from the crowd of watchers and ran to Philip, picked him up from the ground, and carried him back to the safety of the wagons. When he turned to face the wizened foe, Harrie recognized the young warrior as DJ Scott. She woke up then.

Thank God for coffee.

She grabbed her purse, cell phone and sunglasses. “Guard the house, Tuptim. I’ll be back soon,” she called to the sleeping cat.

She backed out of the driveway
and froze. A black SUV was parked at the end of the block. Heart pounding, she shoved the car in drive and tore off in the opposite direction.

She fumbled in her purse for her cell phone.
Damn! Which pocket did I put it in?

She took turns watching the traffic in front of her and
checking the mirror. So far, no black SUV in sight. This was getting old! Why should she still be worried about black SUVs anyway? Hadn’t she already decided it was Nick following her last week? If that were true, she had nothing to worry about. Except DJ kept harping about the danger they were in from whoever killed Nick and attacked Senator Lawrence. So, maybe it hadn’t been Nick’s black SUV after all. Maybe it was the one parked down the street from her house. And maybe she was just a paranoid, hysterical female.

She decided to see if she could flush out
anyone who might be following her. She slowed down, and turned into the shopping center at Wyoming and Montgomery. She parked by Hastings Book Store and waited. It didn’t take long. Two minutes later, a black SUV turned into the same parking lot. She pretended to look for something in her purse, all the while watching in her side and rear mirrors. The SUV parked in the row behind her, several cars over. Now what?

No one exited the SUV
. She couldn’t just sit there in her parked car. She took a deep breath and got out. She walked as nonchalantly as she could. She felt eyes staring at her back as she walked, but at last she reached her goal and stepped into the vestibule of the Hastings.

The
anti-glare film on the windows not only kept the sunlight out, it also allowed those inside to observe without being seen from the outside. She watched intently for movement from the SUV. The seconds turned into minutes. She perked up when she saw the driver’s side door to the SUV slowly open. She watched intently as a figure emerged. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and a deep masculine voice said, “Waiting for someone?”

She caught herself before a shriek escaped her throat. She whirled around, and found herself
facing none other than the man from her dream – Special Agent DJ Scott.

36

“If I have a heart attack anytime soon, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re to blame,” Harrie’s voice quivered. DJ flashed his gorgeous smile, and she felt her insides melt like warm Jell-O.

“What are you doing here today?” he asked. “I thought you’d be hard at work, making up for lost time.”

“I am. I’m on my way to the office right now.”

He looked at her. “Gee, it looks to me like you’re standing here, waiting for someone.”

Harrie debated with herself about whether to mention the black SUV. “No, I just stopped here to—” she shook her head. “Okay, I give up. I was watching that black SUV out there. I thought it might have followed me from my house. I pulled in here to see if it turned in, too.”

DJ’s jaw tightened, his face became all business. “Where is it?”

Harrie turned around to point it out, but the SUV was no longer there. “It’s gone,” she said.

“Are you sure it was the same car?”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t tell one from the other. It looks like all the others I’ve seen this past week. I see them everywhere I go now.”

“Okay, I have a suggestion
. Let’s use my car to go to your office. You do what you have to do with the manuscript, and then I’ll take you to lunch. I can bring you back later to pick up your car. How’s that?”

She looked at him, her expression one of caution and suspicion. “What’s this all about? Why the lunch invitation? Come to think of it, why are you even here?”

“Well,” he said, “I enjoy browsing through bookstores, and I didn’t have anything better to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon.” He watched her reaction. The look on her face said she wasn’t buying it.

He tried again, “Okay, here it is. I’m worried about you. I was on my
way to check on you. I spoke to a police lieutenant friend of Steve’s yesterday.”

Harrie interrupted, “Don’t tell me. You’re talking about Bob Swanson.”

DJ nodded, “Yeah, that’s right. Anyway, Swannie was interested in what I could tell him about Nick’s activities that brought him to the attention of the Bureau. In return for that, he offered to help me out.”

Harrie didn’t say anything
and waited for him to get to the point. DJ took a deep breath and continued. “So when I told him about the possibility you and Ginger had a stalker, he immediately suggested placing a couple of unmarked cars in your neighborhoods. You know, just to be on the safe side.”

Harrie couldn’t believe this. “You have the police tailing me?”

“No. They just drive by occasionally and check things out. Sometimes, they park across the street and watch awhile, but they aren’t following you.” Then he added, “At least I don’t think they are.”

Harrie sputtered. There were so many words vying to come out of her mouth, she couldn’t organize them. “You
. . . I’m not . . . This isn’t . . .” she looked up at him, gesturing wildly with her hands in the absence of coherent speech.

DJ took hold of both her arms, and held them down by her side. “Calm down
. I had planned to tell you about it over lunch. You don’t need to get all excited. It’s just routine.”

Two young men, pants dangerously low on their hips, shuffled into the store. They stared at the tall man and the short, energetic woman engaged in heated conversation. They snickered and muttered something Harrie couldn’t hear, but she ha
d an idea it wasn’t flattering.

Her anger melted. She looked at DJ and
laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I must seem like a mental case to you. I’m normally very calm and reasonable. I think you bring out the worst in me.”

“Oh, I hope not,” he said.

“Okay, I accept your invitation. Frankly, I feel a little nervous about going to the office alone today.”

They got in DJs car and pulled out of the parking lot. Harrie said, “You were going to tell me what you were doing at Hastings this morning.”

“I told you, I like to browse for books.”

“Yes, you did, and that’s lame.”

“Okay,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. “Yesterday, I found out about a book written a few years ago. It has to do with the sheriff of Ventana County. You must know about the man they arrested and tried for the murder of Chipper Finn. He was beaten and tortured by the sheriff and a couple of his cronies from Los Huevos.”

“Yes
. Ginger and I saw the newspaper clippings from those days. They had a lot of information about Sheriff Smiley Hernandez and his questionable ethics. How did you find out about this book?”

“I went back to the office yesterday afternoon to finish my report. It occurred to me there had to be other people who had written about this incident. After all, it was a major event in the course of New Mexico politics. I asked Swannie if he knew of any, and he said he heard of one but didn’t know the name of it. So I did an internet search to see if I could find the
book and who wrote it.”

Harrie said. “I never heard about any of this until we started working on Senator Lawrence’s book. So you obviously found someone. Who was it?”

“Good question. There’s a book, all right, but the author used a pseudonym. I thought if I could get the book and read it, I might learn something. Maybe I could even figure out who wrote it.”

“So did you? Find the book, I mean.”

“They didn’t have it, but they ordered it for me. It should be here by next week.”

Harried mulled this over as they drove along. “Why use a pseudonym? If somebody like Senator Lawrence is writing a book on the subject and he’s willing to publish it under his real name, why should someone else be so shy?”

They stopped at the light at Wyoming and Academy, and DJ turned to look at her. “When you think about it, doesn’t it seem like a prudent precaution? In view of what’s happened to the senator, he probably wishes he’d chosen to do the same.”

“Wait a minute,” Harrie sat up straight, brimming with excitement. “What if that’s it?”

The light changed to green, and DJ glanced at her quickly before turning his attention back to traffic. “What do you mean?”

Harrie said, “What if the person who wrote the book used a phony name, not because he was afraid of the bad guys, but because he
is
the bad guy?”

DJ pulled the car into the space in front of Harrie’s office
and turned to stare at her. “You know, I’m beginning to worry about myself.”

Harrie looked confused. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, “you’re beginning to make sense, and that scares me.”

37

Sunday Noon, April 16, 2000

After DJ made a call from the phone in the reception area, he walked into Harrie’s office.

She
looked up from her work and said, “You look like my cat when she’s snagged a forbidden treat. What’s up?”

“I
t finally occurred to me I had an available resource I hadn’t considered until now.”

“A resource for what?”

“Everything to do with books,” he said. “Did you know my mother used to own a bookstore?”

Harrie nodded. “She told us about that during her interview. Does she remember anything about a book on the subject of Sheriff Smiley Hernandez?”

“Not only does she remember, she just happens to have a copy of it.” His face beamed.

“Now that’s creepy! What are the odds your mother would just happen to have a book you were searching for today?”

“Actually, I’d be surprised if she
didn’t
have it. She worked for the Snows for thirty years, and the Chipper Finn murder had a profound effect on them as Jacob explained to her. And you know she loves books. Once she has one, she keeps it.”

“That’s
sounds reasonable, but it still seems amazing.”

“Yeah, I guess so.
Are you ready for some lunch?”

After lunch at a cozy café, Harrie felt relaxed, her headache gone. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. They had just settled back into DJ’s car.
He looked at her and said, “You look pretty happy about something.”

“Yep, I guess I do. This is the most peaceful day I’ve had all month.”

“Do you mind if we stop by my mom’s and see if she’s located that book yet?”

“No problem for me, but why don’t you just take me back to my car? You don’t have to chauffeur me around all day.”

DJ smiled, almost shyly. “I like being with you. It doesn’t feel like I’m your chauffeur. It feels like we’re spending time getting to know each other better.”

Harrie laughed nervously. “Is that allowed?” She correc
ted herself. “What I mean is, can you get to be friends with somebody you’re investigating?”

“I told you before, no one’s investigating you. Anyway,” he looked at her, “I’ve turned this case
over to someone else, remember?”

Harrie felt her skin grow warm.
My God, I’m blushing! What’s next? Swooning?
“Oh, right, you said that yesterday.” She hesitated, and then looked at him. “So it’s okay for us to be friends?”

“Friends?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, we can be friends. That’s always a good start, don’t you think?”

Harrie didn’t trust herself to respond. Instead, she smiled and chatted aimlessly about the weather, the traffic, and any other damn thing she could think of to avoid the topic he’d introduced.

They turned into the driveway of a brick house, and Harrie admired the
well-manicured lawn and rose bushes just beginning to leaf out. “What a lovely home. Has Caroline lived here long?”

“About ten years. She bought it after her husband died.”

Harrie looked at DJ, surprised. “Her husband? Are you saying her husband wasn’t your father?” Then she caught herself. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Anyway, didn’t you wonder why we don’t have the same last name?”

“I hadn’t really given it any thought.”

“My father died before I was born. He and my mother were just kids. They ran away and got married
after Dad was drafted into the Army. He was shipped to Vietnam a month later. By the time she found out I was coming along, Dad had been killed.”

As they got out of the car and walked toward the front porch, Harrie felt
sadness she wouldn’t have imagined feeling for someone she barely knew. “I’m so sorry. How awful for your poor mother.”

“Yeah, it was hard on her. Especially since her parents had forbidden her to marry him in the first place. They were rather strict. You see, she had just turned fifteen, and my Dad was eighteen. She had no choice so she swallowed her pride and went back home. But enough of my sad story for now. We have plenty of time to get into all that later.” He rang the doorbell.

Caroline greeted them warmly. “I’ve just taken a pie out of the oven. It’s your favorite, dear – apple. After it cools a bit, I’ll serve it.”

She escorted them to the kitchen. There were bookcases in every room they passed on the way. The smell of cinnamon and tangy apples spiced the air. Caroline got out coffee cups wh
ile they sat down at the table.

Harrie looked around the room. “I love your home, Caroline. It’s so warm and friendly. You have a wonderful touch with decorating.”

They sat and talked for a while, sipping coffee, and Harrie felt comfortable being with them. After a few minutes, Caroline said, “I found the book.” She left the room and when she returned, she carried a hardback book with a colorful dust jacket. DJ looked at the cover:
The Lie That Killed A Town
, by Francis Black. “Intriguing title. Have you read it?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I skimmed through it again this afternoon after you called.
This ‘Francis Black’ seems to think there was a terrible miscarriage of justice. He blames the FBI for destroying the careers of some of the upstanding citizens there. It doesn’t exactly correspond to what I’d always heard about that era.”

DJ leafed through the book for a few minutes. “It doesn’t say all that much about the murder does it?”

Caroline shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. He focuses instead on the theory that somebody high up had a vendetta to destroy the political leaders in New Mexico at that time. He paints the picture of a bunch of good old boys who were badly misunderstood.”

“Who’s the ‘high-up’ person he thinks was targeting these poor guys?” Harrie asked.

DJ chuckled. “Who else? J. Edgar Hoover. Ever since he died in 1971, he’s been painted as the bad guy for everything that ever happened in law enforcement. People who had the most to hide had a field day after his death. They thought all their dirty little secrets had died with the man, and they felt free to disparage him without fear of reprisal.”

“So, what does the book say about the murderer?”

“That’s interesting,” Caroline said. “He doesn’t come right out and name the person, but he insinuates it was Eric Snow.”

“So this guy confirms what your boss said. Do you think he had inside information?” Harrie asked.

“Well if so, it doesn’t follow the same line Jacob took.”

DJ looked up at his mother. “What’s different about it?”

Caroline sat down at the end of the table. “Remember I told you Jacob was convinced Chipper Finn got information about Eric’s father and uncle? That they were behind the gambling, bribery and payoff schemes? He thought Eric killed her to keep her from revealing that information to the authorities.”

“Yeah, sure. You said he wanted to protect his family.”

“According to Mr. Francis Black, that wasn’t anywhere near the truth. Daniel Snow and Peter Templeton are painted as the heroes of the piece. Daniel tried valiantly to see that Chipper Finn’s murderer was convicted of her death, and then, when he failed to do that, he resigned as District Attorney. He went on a crusade to bring about reform in New Mexico politics and clean out the pockets of illegal gambling. That’s what got him elected as New Mexico’s Attorney General.”

“Okay,” Harrie said, “I’m confused. Why would Eric kill her if it wasn’t to protect his family from the scandal?”

“Ah, that’s where it gets interesting,” Caroline replied. “I’d forgotten about this part, though why, I can’t imagine. It’s really the most interesting theory in the book. According to the author, Chipper gave birth to Eric Snow’s child, and he killed her because she tried to blackmail his family.”