Читать книгу Standoff At Christmas - Margaret Daley - Страница 11

THREE

“Aunt Linda, I can call Lawrence and Jake and reschedule this dinner for another night.” Rachel stood in the entrance to the kitchen where her aunt was cooking a beef stew and putting some rolls in the oven to bake.

“All I have to do is the bread. The stew has been simmering half the day.” She turned from the stove, her eyes red from crying for the past hour. Aunt Linda held the baking sheet in her hands like a shield, her fingertips red from her tight grip on it. “I know Randall asked you to come home, but Jake stayed and I want to know what they found out about Betty’s death. Murder! I still can’t believe it.” She slammed the cookie sheet on the countertop and placed the rolls on it. “My sister was one of the sweetest people in Port Aurora. She never hurt a soul. I’ve got to make some sense out of this.”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to do that.”

“They should have been here five minutes ago. Call them to make sure they’re coming,” her aunt, a petite woman with short blond hair, said in a determined voice.

Aunt Linda was always where she was supposed to be on time, if not early. “I will,” Rachel said before her aunt decided to do it instead. Since she’d returned home an hour ago, Aunt Linda had fluctuated between tears and anger, much like what Rachel had been experiencing since she glimpsed Aunt Betty leaning against the tree. Stiff. Snow covering her.

As Rachel made her way into the living room, she heard the doorbell. She continued into the arctic entry and let Jake and his grandfather into the house. They removed their snowshoes and stomped their feet to shake off what snow they could.

“You two walked?”

“The wind has died down some.” Jake removed his beanie.

“But the snow is still coming down a lot.” Rachel had been looking forward to seeing him and spending time with her best friend from childhood. A few months ago, he’d almost died, and now her aunt had been murdered.

“With what happened this afternoon, I needed to walk some of my stress off.” Jake hung his coat and his grandfather’s on two pegs in the arctic entry and headed into the living room.

Lawrence looked around. “Where’s Linda?”

“In the kitchen. Dinner will be soon.”

“I’ll go see how she’s coping. I still can’t believe someone would kill Betty.” Lawrence strode from the room.

The second he was gone, Rachel pivoted toward Jake. “Tell me what happened after I left.”

“How’s Linda doing?”

“Mad one minute, emotional the next. She wants to find the person responsible and...” Rachel’s mouth twisted. “I’m not sure what she would do, but she wants the murderer caught. She’s trying to make some sense of what happened to her sister.”

“Have her come in here, and I’ll tell both of you before dinner. Although I can’t say any of it makes sense.”

Rachel headed toward the kitchen, but Lawrence and Aunt Linda were already at the doorway.

“I turned the oven on to warm so the rolls ought to be fine while Jake tells us what happened.” Aunt Linda took a seat on the couch with Lawrence next to her, his arm around her shoulder. Her aunt leaned against Jake’s grandfather as though she couldn’t hold herself upright without him.

Jake stood by the roaring fireplace, while Rachel sat down and told her part of the story. “When I went back to Betty’s house, Officer Bates had returned and was trying to pull fingerprints while the chief finished with photos, especially of the kitchen and pantry. When I told him what we found, he left his officer processing evidence and told me to go home, then he started toward the woods.” The sight of Aunt Betty on the ground haunted her. Rachel shut the memory down and shifted her attention to Jake. “Your turn.”

With his hands behind his back, he drew in a deep breath. “The chief took photos of Betty, then we carried her to the house. When I left, he was waiting for Doc to come take her. It appeared she died either from the head wound from someone hitting her with some kind of round object—possibly a can from the pantry—or she succumbed to the cold. Either way, the police chief is looking at the case as a murder.”

Aunt Linda dropped her head, tears falling on her lap. “I can’t believe this.”

Lawrence cupped Aunt Linda’s hand in her lap. “We haven’t had a murder here in years. A couple of deadly bar fights. That’s all.”

“Do you know if they found what they were looking for?” Aunt Linda lifted her gaze, her eyes red.

“No. The police don’t know what she had of value at her house.” Jake stepped away from the fire and took the last seat in the living room. “Was the TV the only thing of value that a robber would steal?”

Her aunt shook her head. “She had a few pieces of jewelry, but nothing to kill over, a state-of-the-art food processor and an old Kodak camera. Do you think Chief Quay would like for me to go through the house and see if I can find anything?”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. It might help to know if that was the motive for the break-in. Knowing the motive might help find the killer.”

Rachel remembered her brief encounters with Aunt Betty earlier that day. “I don’t think it’s a robbery. I think Aunt Betty discovered something that concerned her. She asked about talking to you, Jake, because you were a police officer in Anchorage. Aunt Linda, do you know of any place she uses for hiding valuable items? I can’t think of any.”

Her head lowered, Aunt Linda stared at her folded hands, the thumbs twirling around each other. “She had a cubbyhole in her kitchen. If you didn’t know about it, you wouldn’t see it. It’s where the two cabinets form an L-shape near the sink. But it only can hide small objects. She kept her spare key to the truck in there. A diamond ring our mother passed on to her. I’m not sure what else.”

“Then that should be checked.” Rachel glanced at Jake, who nodded. “We can do that tomorrow.”

Her teeth digging into her lower lip, Aunt Linda rose. “Since we’re her only living relatives, it’s our responsibility to see to her—” she swallowed several times “—belongings. Now, I’m going to set the table, and dinner will be in about ten minutes.”

Lawrence also stood. “I’ll help.”

After they left the room, Jake leaned across the end table that separated their chairs and said in a low voice, “Is something going on between your aunt and my grandfather?”

“Good friends. That’s all. Over the years, they’ve helped each other, and their friendship has grown. It kind of reminds me of us when we were kids. Not that I’m saying theirs is childish. Aunt Linda told me a few years ago that she’d had a wonderful marriage she would always cherish in her memory, but she didn’t want to get married again.”

“How about you? I thought by now you’d be married. You have so much to offer a man.”

But not you. When they had been friends, before Celeste, Rachel had wondered if Jake and she would fall in love, and whether the marriage would work—unlike her mother’s six marriages—because she knew Jake so well. Her mother would date a man for a couple of months, marry him, then discard him in a few years. “I don’t have a lot of faith in marriage—at least what I’ve seen of it.”

“You might be right. A successful marriage is becoming rarer.”

“Is my cynicism rubbing off on you?”

He grinned. “I’ve been around you for a day, and look what happened.” His gaze shifted to the Christmas tree in front of the living room window. “Your lights were what we focused on. Even with it snowing, we could see them from our front porch. Of course, it’s not snowing as hard as earlier.”

“We always decorate the day after Thanksgiving. Aunt Betty comes over...” Thinking about how her aunt died churned her stomach. She needed to forget the last few hours for a while or she wouldn’t be able to help Aunt Linda. “Is Lawrence going to put a tree up this year? He usually doesn’t because he visits you in Anchorage.”

“He hasn’t said. Maybe I should go cut one down like we used to, and then he’d have no choice. He always insists we do when he comes to visit, so turnaround is fair play. He’s really a kid at heart.”

Rachel took in the hard edge to Jake’s expression and the reserve he didn’t have as a teen. She missed who he’d been. “But you aren’t. From what he’s told me, you’re very serious and focused.”

“Being a police officer in a large town colors your perception. Sadly, I have covered murders. I’d forgotten the charm of Port Aurora and the lack of what I call real crime.”

“You should come home more often.” This exchange brought memories of how they were as teenagers. They used to tell each other everything—until Celeste. She changed Jake. He became closed, and in the end he left because she married Brad Howard. That hurt her more than she cared to acknowledge.

“We’ll see.”

“Have you seen Celeste yet?”

His shoulders tensed. “I’ve only been here less than a day.”

“But you were in town for hours, and it’s a small place. She and Brad don’t live far from the main street.”

“I’ve seen that big house overlooking the harbor.”

“You mean the audacious home looming over the town,” she said with a forced chuckle.

Jake pushed to his feet. “I can smell the dinner, and I’m starving. Let’s eat.” He held out his hand to her.

Celeste was still a sore subject with him. That broke her heart. Rachel wanted him to be happy and move on from Celeste. Rachel placed her hand in his, and he tugged her up. For a few seconds they were only inches apart, his spicy scent—or maybe the Christmas tree nearby—teased her senses and blended with the aromas of the bread and beef stew.

At least he loved someone once. You don’t even want to take that chance.

* * *

The next morning, after Gramps plowed the long drive from the road to the cluster of houses, Jake headed for town to talk with the police chief, a man he’d worked with for over a year, before he moved away. Randall had taught him a lot, but his real police training came when he went to Anchorage.

Jake parked in front of the police station, a small building, nothing like where he worked. When he entered, he saw the chief coming out of his office and putting a paper down in front of the dispatcher/secretary. From what he understood, only seven officers worked for the department besides Randall, three more than when he had been an officer on this force. That wasn’t too bad in the winter months when the year-round population was a little over four thousand, but in the warmer months there was an influx of tourists, mostly hunters and fishermen.

Randall came toward Jake and shook his hand. “I’m sure glad you could help out yesterday. I have one officer on vacation, and with the storm yesterday, there are always more wrecks.”

“While I’m here, I’d be glad to help out, if needed. I wanted to know what the cause of Betty’s death was.”

“The verdict was she passed out and froze to death. It was estimated by body temperature she was outside close to three hours.”

“Are you calling it a murder?”

The chief nodded. “She wouldn’t have been outside with a head wound if someone hadn’t intruded in her house and hit her.”

“Did you find the weapon?”

“Yes, a can of soup. I think the attacker left her in the pantry where she had probably been hiding and continued his search. She must have awakened and fled outside.”

“How many people do you think it is?”

“We have two different sets of footprints in the house that weren’t Betty’s.” Randall half leaned, half sat on his dispatcher’s desk as Officers Bates and Clark walked from the back of the station, talking.

“Any latent prints that you could match?”

Randall signaled for Bates to join them. “Yes, one, but the print isn’t in our system. Did Linda know what might have been taken from Betty’s? If someone wanted to steal, I could think of many better off than her.”

“No, but Linda and Rachel are going to start cleaning up since I checked with one of your officers this morning. He said you’re through with the crime scene.”

Randall glanced toward Bates. “We were there until late, processing the scene. Finished about ten o’clock. If Linda or Rachel find anything missing, please let me know.”

Jake shifted slightly toward the young officer. “I’ll leave you to talk business. I’m going by the general store for some cleaning supplies they might need at Betty’s house, then to Port Aurora’s Community Church. Linda couldn’t get hold of the pastor this morning, so she wanted me to tell him Betty only wanted a small memorial service at church.”

“That sounds like Betty, but it won’t be small. I don’t see how the church will be big enough for the service. She worked at the processing center at the fishery and was a moving force at church. I figure at least half the town will want to come.” Randall reached behind him for a piece of paper and handed it to Bates. “Red Cunningham had his cell phone stolen. Check it out.”

“Yes, sir. On it.”

“Was Betty’s cell on her?” Jake asked.

“From what I understand, she only had a landline at her house.” Randall straightened. “I can’t imagine not having a cell.”

“Me, either. It’s hard enough that it doesn’t always work here.” They nodded goodbye, and Jake left the police station and drove the half a mile to the general store, which was close to the harbor on the main street.

He decided to grab a cup of coffee, because no one made it as good as Marge, then get the cleaning supplies. As he entered the store, his gaze almost immediately went to Brad and Celeste sitting at a table talking. Neither saw him, and he hoped it stayed that way.

He stood in line a couple of people behind Sean O’Hara. They had been in the same class in high school. If he had been spending time with Rachel growing up, usually Sean was with him. Sean placed his order, then turned away from the counter.

“I just heard about Betty this morning,” Sean said when he glimpsed Jake. “She was such a good employee. I should have realized something was wrong when she went home early yesterday.”

Jake moved up in the line. “Linda and Rachel are planning a memorial service for her next week. Police Chief Quay said the church wouldn’t even be able to accommodate most of the people who would attend. If that’s the case, is there anything at the fishery that could be used?”

Sean rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know. I’d have to talk with Brad about it. I’m sure he would want to do something. Betty worked at the fishery for most of her life.”

Jake leaned toward Sean. “Yeah, I can hardly believe she’s dead. Murdered.”

Sean’s eyes widened. “Betty? Why?”

“You haven’t heard—a robbery gone bad.”

“I tried to stay away from the rumor mill. Betty doesn’t have that much.”

“That’s what Linda said. She and Rachel are at her house, trying to figure out what was stolen. I have a few errands, and then I’m going to help them later.” Jake stepped up to the counter to buy his coffee.

“I’ll let you know what Brad says about a bigger place for the memorial service.” Sean made his way toward the exit.

After Jake ordered his drink, he grabbed a basket and found the aisle for cleaning supplies, staying away from the café section where Brad and Celeste sat.

Jake finished his coffee and paid for the items he bought. When he stepped outside, the chill made him think about what had happened to Betty. Anger swelled in his gut. Why did bad things happen to good people? He’d asked the Lord that many times. Maybe life as a police officer in Anchorage wasn’t really for him? And yet, he’d only been home one day and a murder occurred in this usually peaceful town.

He walked around the corner of the large store. When he reached his grandfather’s SUV, the rear driver’s side tire was flat. He stuck the sack of supplies in the back and got out what he needed to replace it with a spare. As he knelt to fix the jack under the car, he glanced at the front tire—flat like the back one. Jake examined it and found a large slit in it.

This wasn’t an accident. Someone did this on purpose.

* * *

Carrying a sack of supplies, Rachel stepped into Betty’s house, drew in a fortifying breath and said, “Remember this place was trashed.”

“I’ve seen trashed before. Your dad was the messiest guy.” Hands full with a mop, broom and garbage bags, Aunt Linda entered a few paces behind Rachel. She glanced at the living room and blew out a rush of air. “Okay. This tops anything your dad did.”

“Probably more than one person did this. Going through everything takes time. Jake was stopping by the police station to talk to Chief Quay.”

Aunt Linda shook her head as her gaze skimmed over the piles of items on the floor. “I hope Betty didn’t see this. Everything in her house had a place, and she kept it that way. Very organized. It will take days to go through, but I’m determined to see if anything is missing. I have a good idea what she has of value that a burglar might want.”

“I can’t see this as a robbery gone bad. Everyone knows her in town. They know she has limited funds and just makes it every month.”

“Where do we start?” Aunt Linda leaned the mop and broom against the wall.

“In here. If we can get this room and her bedroom done today, I’ll consider it good, then after church tomorrow, we can come work on the kitchen. It’s the worst.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But first, we should check to see if her valuables are still in the hidey-hole in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’m sure the police chief would like to know if anything was taken as soon as possible. It might help him find who did this.” Aunt Linda crossed the living room to the kitchen entrance and halted. “This looks like a tornado went through here. Why were they emptying food boxes? What in the world were they looking for?”

“Some people have hidden cash in cereal, flour, whatever.”

Aunt Linda harrumphed. “That gives me the willies. What about the germs?”

“Usually they have them in something plastic.” Over her aunt’s shoulder, Rachel gestured to the open freezer, a puddle of water on the floor nearby. “People have been known to hide money and stuff like that in the freezer.”

“Obviously, it didn’t work. They checked it. But really, the intruders couldn’t have known Betty very well, or they wouldn’t have wasted their time.”

Rachel thought back to the panicked look on Aunt Betty’s face the day before. She could still hear the scared desperation in Aunt Betty’s voice in the break room. Why didn’t she talk to the local police?

Aunt Linda stepped over the worst of the mess on the floor and covered the distance to the counter area she’d described last night. With her foot, she brushed some empty boxes and cans away, then knelt. She reached into the cubbyhole at the junction of the cabinets. “Got something.”

Rachel stooped down behind her aunt. “Do we have anything like this at our house?”

“Nope.” Aunt Linda slid out a plastic bag with a few pieces of jewelry and another with several keys and gave them to Rachel, then she stuck her hand back inside. “There’s something else. Feels like one of her photos—actually several.”

When her aunt drew them out and examined them, Rachel looked over Aunt Linda’s shoulder. “That’s the shipping room at the fishery. Why would she take a picture of that? She didn’t work in that department.”

“I don’t know. Maybe there are more in her darkroom.” Linda glanced back at Rachel. “The camera she used was old—one she had for years. She still used film. That was probably her one luxury. Buying film and what she needed to process her own photos.”

“Three pictures are all that’s in the cubbyhole?”

“Let me check to make sure. It goes back to the wall.” Her aunt rechecked and came up empty-handed. “Before we start cleaning, let’s see what’s left of her darkroom. Most of her photos are of nature. She is... I mean, she was good. Photography made her happy.”

Rachel clasped her shoulder, hearing the pain in her aunt’s voice. She leaned over and hugged her. “She’s with God now.”

Aunt Linda cleared her throat. “I know. But...” She gave her head one hard shake, then pulled herself to her feet. “This isn’t getting her house cleaned. Betty would have hated her house this way.”

As they made their way to the second bedroom closet, Rachel slipped the items from the hidey-hole into her pocket.

“I remember it took Betty a year to save up for her camera. She was so excited when she finally got it. I bought her enough film that I think it lasted six months, even though she went out every weekend and took pictures of things that interested her.”

Rachel dragged the door open, so that Aunt Linda and she could peer into the darkroom side by side in the entrance.

“I don’t see her camera,” her aunt mumbled, then crouched down and began moving the clutter to see what was under it. “She keeps it in here on the hook by the door. It’s not there, and whatever she was processing was destroyed. Could that be the reason someone came to her house?”

The scent of the chemicals still lingered in the air, but something else invaded and began to overpower that odor. Rachel swiveled around and went to the entrance into the bedroom. As she took in a deep breath away from the closet, a whiff of smoke grew stronger.

Rachel hurried into the living room, her gaze riveting to flames licking up the drapes on the front and side of the house.