Carrot Cake Murder (7 page)

“Well…now that you mention it…” Delores gave an elaborate shrug. “You could find Marge’s brother Gus for me. No one’s seem him since the dance last night. When he didn’t show up for the family picture, they sent me to find him. But my shoes…” she glanced down at the stylish sandals. “They’re just not suitable for trying to locate someone. You know what I mean, don’t you, dear?”

Caught like a rat in a trap, like a fly on a sticky spiral of flypaper, like a deer in the headlights, like a moth fluttering helplessly against…

“Hannah?”

Delores interrupted her mental chain of similes, and Hannah focused on the here and now. Delores had wanted something, and now she knew what it was. “Okay, Mother.” she said, bowing to the inevitable. “I’ll go find Gus for you.”

Nothing was ever easy. Hannah gazed around the small lake cottage. The only living creature inside was a small green frog hopping determinedly from the bedroom closet toward the kitchen alcove. Unless Gus had met a witch who’d turned him into the Frog Prince, he wasn’t here. And since his Jaguar was still parked in the driveway, he’d gone somewhere on foot. But where? Eden Lake was far from being the largest body of water in Minnesota, but it would still take several hours to walk around the perimeter searching for him.

The frog gave a croak, and Hannah watched as he hopped up on the counter and into the sink. He landed next to what looked like a green-and-white capsule, and Hannah picked it up just in case it was something that could hurt him. There were markings, probably indicating the manufacturer, but they were so blurred Hannah couldn’t read them.

There was no pill bottle on the counter, and the bathroom medicine cabinet had been empty and standing open when she’d checked the bathroom. She didn’t know where the pill had come from, so she couldn’t put it back. She supposed she could wrap it in plastic and toss it in the open suitcase that Gus had left on the bed, but the green-and-white capsule appeared to be a twin to the over-the-counter antacid she’d seen Gus take at the dance last night, and that meant it was probably expendable.

She glanced down at the capsule again, and her decision was made for her. The powder inside was already starting to leak out of the side. It was dissolving from the slight bit of moisture that had gathered in the bottom of the sink and there was no sense saving a dissolved capsule. She poked it down the drain so the frog couldn’t get it, and ran some water to flush it down. That was when she realized that there were no dirty breakfast dishes. It was a cinch that Gus hadn’t washed them. The dishtowel hanging on a rack by the side of the sink was bone dry.

“No dishes,” Hannah said to the frog, who was looking at her with inscrutable black eyes. The frog didn’t comment, not even a croak, as she opened the refrigerator door. A quick peek inside explained the absence of dirty dishes. There was no food. The only contents were a bottle of Jack Daniels and two cans of beer. There was nothing in the freezer compartment, either, except two trays of ice cubes, the old metal kind with the dividers between the cubes that nobody could pry up if they were filled too full. If Gus had wanted something other than a boilermaker for breakfast, he’d probably walked over to the Eden Lake Store to buy supplies.

Hannah ran a little more water in the sink for the frog and then she headed across the road to the store. It had been one of her favorite places as a child. The old-fashioned bell on the door tinkled as she pushed it open and stepped in. Some things never changed, and Hannah found that comforting. The interior of the store still smelled the way it always had, a curious mixture of ring bologna, dill pickles in a large jar on the counter, and elderly bananas that had gotten too ripe for anything except banana bread.

“Hello, Hannah.” Ava Schultz came out from the back, pushing aside the curtain that concealed her living quarters from her customers’ view. A small woman prone to quick movements and rapid speech, she reminded Hannah of a little brown wren, flitting from one part of the store to another and seldom lighting in one place for long. Ava had fashionably cut, perfectly coiffed, dark brown hair without a touch of gray. Delores and her friends were certain that, she wore a wig, since Bertie Straub, the owner of the Cut ’n Curl, insisted that Ava had never come in, not even once, to have her hair cut, styled, or colored.

“Hi, Ava.” Hannah walked over to the main attraction, a shiny metal case filled with every available Popsicle flavor. “Anything new since I grew up?”

Ava gave a little laugh and joined her at the case. “See the three boxes in the middle?” she asked, pointing to them. “Those are Rainbows, Scribblers, and Great Whites.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Of course not. We didn’t have them when you were a kid. All we carried then were the double pops in a variety of flavors.”

“Rhubarb,” Hannah said with a grin. “That was my favorite.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open. “They never made rhubarb!” she exclaimed. “You’re pulling my leg, Hannah.”

“You’re right. I should have known I couldn’t put one over on Winnetka County’s leading Popsicle authority.”

“I do like to keep up with it,” Ava admitted. “The kids enjoy hearing about the new products, and they’ve got so many nowadays.” She pointed to another box. “Look at those Lifesaver Super Pops. From the bottom up, they’re pineapple, orange, cherry, and raspberry. And over here are the Incredible Hulks. They’re part of the Firecracker Super Heroes series. The Hulk is strawberry-kiwi, grape, and green apple. They’ve even got Big Foot. It’s cherry and cotton candy swirled together and shaped like a foot with a gumball. Get it?”

“Big Foot. Cute. Popsicles have come a long way since nineteen-oh-five when Frank Epperson left his lemonade and stir stick out on the porch and it froze solid overnight.”

“You remembered!” Ava gave her the same smile a teacher might bestow on a favorite student.

“Of course I did.” Hannah smiled back. Ava had told her the story enough times. But she wasn’t here to discuss Popsicle history. She had to find out if Ava had seen Gus. “Did Gus Klein come in this morning?” she asked. “They’re lining up for the family reunion picture, and they sent me to find him.”

“I haven’t seen him since he walked me back here last night after the dance. And before you can ask, it’s not what you think. He just wanted me to open the store so he could get some milk to go with that carrot cake you gave him.”

“So you opened the store for him?”

“Of course I did. A customer’s a customer, even after midnight. He bought his groceries, and then we had a drink together and waited for the cars to clear out of the parking lot. He said he hid your cake behind the bar and he was going back to eat it as soon as no one else was around. I think that was so he wouldn’t have to share. We went to school together, you know. Gus never was any good at sharing, not even in kindergarten.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. On the one hand, she was pleased that Gus liked her Special Carrot Cake so much that he hadn’t wanted to give any away. On the other hand, she’d given him a half-dozen pieces, and he could have given one to Ava.

“Anyway,” Ava went on, “he got the milk and some other groceries.”

“Food for breakfast?” Hannah guessed, remembering the empty refrigerator.

“Not what a normal person would eat for breakfast, but that didn’t surprise me. Gus was never what you’d call a normal person. From little on, he had his own style, you know?”

“What did he buy?” Hannah was curious.

“Sliced ham, bread, Swiss cheese, a half-dozen little packages of potato chips, and ten Milky Ways, the old-fashioned kind with the milk chocolate, not the dark. The last I saw Gus, he was heading back to the pavilion with his cooler and his sack of groceries.”

“Cooler? What cooler?”

“Guess I forgot to mention that he bought one of those disposable coolers. I asked him why he needed a cooler when there was a refrigerator in his cottage, and he said it wasn’t working right.”

Hannah frowned. When she’d checked the cabin, the refrigerator had been working just fine. The ice cubes in the trays hadn’t melted, and cold air had rolled out of the door when she’d opened it. Why would Gus lie to Ava about it?

“He was supposed to come back to pay me for the groceries this morning,” Ava went on, “but he never showed.”

Ominous music began to play in the recesses of Hannah’s mind. It sounded like a cross between Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and the soundtrack of a bad horror movie. But she didn’t have time to think about that now. “What time was it when Gus left here last night?”

“A little after one-thirty. I got ready for bed, that takes about ten minutes, and I looked at the clock before I turned off the lights. It was a quarter to two.”

Hannah reached reflexively for her steno pad, the kind she used for murder cases, but she quickly thought better of it. This was nothing more than a missing person, someone who hadn’t shown up for the family reunion picture. Gus hadn’t left for good, his car was still here, but he could have found a warmer, more hospitable place to sleep than the single bunk in his unheated lake cottage. There had been at least five dozen women at the dance last night. One of them might have thought a good-looking, middle-aged man like Gus was irresistible, especially since he wore expensive designer clothes and sported a Rolex watch and a diamond pinkie ring. Lake Eden women didn’t meet many men who drove Jaguars and flashed around money at every opportunity. Gus could have asked one of the women for a late date, and she could have accepted. Then he could have waited with Ava until no one was around, gone back to collect the carrot cake, and walked to the woman’s cottage bearing gifts of what appeared to Hannah to be picnic fixings.

The more Hannah thought about it, the more sense it made. Perhaps Gus and his lady friend had decided to skip the group photo this morning, and they were sitting at her kitchen table right now, eating a ham and cheese sandwich, and sharing the carrot cake…

“…or not,” Hannah muttered under her breath, and then she turned to Ava. “I’d better get going. They’ll be ready to take that photo soon.”

“I hope you find Gus. If you do, will you do me a favor?”

“What?” Hannah asked, knowing better than to promise blindly.

“Right after they snap that picture, grab Gus by the ear and march him back here to pay his bill. You can tell him I said that groceries don’t grow on trees, not unless they’re apples that is.”

There was only one logical place to look, and Hannah headed straight for it. The Lake Pavilion was clearly deserted. The sandy parking lot was empty of cars and contained only a crumpled cigarette pack, the remnants of what had once been a blue and white bandanna, and a neatly clipped coupon for a two-fer breakfast at Paula’s Pancake House.

As she approached the entrance to the white clapboard structure, Hannah felt an odd prickling at the back of her neck. She’d experienced that sensation before, and it had preceded something unpleasant, something bad, something like discovering a body. She told herself that Gus was fine and she’d find nothing but the debris of a party inside, but her feet dragged a bit as she approached the front entrance.

Last night the pavilion had looked majestic, a gleaming white edifice in the moonlight with its open shutters spilling out warm yellow light into the humid blanket of summer darkness. Music had set up joyful vibrations in the walls, the wooden booths, the old chrome-and-black plastic barstools, and the revelers themselves, causing laughter and loud voices to peal out in a cacophony of raucous gaiety. Today it was…Hannah paused, in both mind and step, attempting to think of the word. Sad. The word was sad. The white paint was peeling, the shutters were warped from exposure to the elements, and there were a half-dozen brown beer bottles leaning up against the front of the building like tipsy sentinels. The party was over. Everyone had left. All that remained was the abandoned pavilion with its curling shards of paint.

Hannah tried the front door, but it was locked, just as she’d thought it would be. She knocked, calling out for Gus, but there was no answer. Someone else might have gone back to find Lisa or Herb to get the key, but Hannah had been born and raised in Lake Eden, and she knew all about the Lake Pavilion. In a town where Lover’s Lane was regularly patrolled, and the parking lot at the rear of Jordan High was peppered with arc lights, the Lake Pavilion was the sole haven for teenage couples seeking privacy.

The shutter was at the back of the pavilion, the third from the corner. Hannah found the proper one, tugged on the padlock that had been rigged to open, and removed it. Gaining access to the pavilion was as easy as her high school friends had told her it was. She lifted the shutter and propped it open with the stick that was attached to the side of the window frame. The opening was a bit above waist height, but she managed to swing one leg up and over the sill. A moment later, she was sitting on the sill with both legs hanging down inside the building, preparing to push off with her hands and jump down.

She landed awkwardly, which wasn’t surprising. She’d never been the athletic type. Since the shutter was at the back of the pavilion, not visible from the road, she left it open for illumination.

All was quiet within. The interior had an air of abandonment, and the only sign of life Hannah heard was the buzzing of several flies that had been trapped inside. As a child she’d believed that if she recorded the high-pitched buzzing of house flies and played it back ever so slowly, she’d hear tiny little voices saying things like, “Dig in. Hannah spilled strawberry jam on the kitchen table,” and “Watch out! Her mother’s got a flyswatter!”

A phalanx of giant trash barrels sat against the wall. Several were close to overflowing with plastic plates from the dessert buffet and Styrofoam cups with the remnants of coffee. Another barrel was marked with a familiar symbol, and it contained bottles and cans for recycling.

Hannah wrinkled up her nose. There was an odd combination of scents in the air, a spicy sweetness from the dessert buffet, the acrid scent of coffee that had perked too long in the pot, the lingering fragrance of perfumes and colognes, and the stale odor of spilled beer and liquor. Those smells were ordinary, what you might expect in a place where a large party had been held. But there was another scent under it all, cloying and sharp, and slightly metallic. It reminded Hannah of something unpleasant, something bad, something…but she didn’t want to think about that now.