Eine Kleine Murder (2 page)

Chapter 1

The Next Afternoon

Alla Diritta: In direct motion (Ital.)

I
drummed my finger faster on the steering wheel.
Stop that, Cressa.
It was an old nervous habit that just made me more anxious. The CD in my car stereo was beginning to rattle me. Moussorgsky's
Night on Bald Mountain
's spooky, ominous strains were too much like my surroundings: mile after mile of identical, disorienting Illinois cornfields, interrupted only by dark clumps of trees huddled on stray hillsides.

And now I had a tailgater. It was time to admit I was lost. It was getting dark and if I didn't reach my grandmother's soon, I'd… well, what would I do? I hadn't passed a motel since leaving Moline. Pull over and sleep in the car?

As I rounded a curve and the road straightened, the headlights of the car behind me flashed in my rearview mirror, blinding me for a second and yanking a cuss word out of my mouth. The jerk had been on my tail for at least twenty miles and wouldn't pass me. A sudden thought stilled my dancing fingers. Was it my ex-boyfriend Len? The thought was too unsettling, and I was already starting to lose it. I needed to concentrate on getting there.

Because I'd ridden to Alpha dozens of times as a child to swim in the lake where Gram always kept a membership, I assumed I'd just magically know the way there. Wrong.
Where the hell was I?
My gut clenched. Time to phone a friend.

I reached into my purse on the passenger seat and felt around for my cell phone. Dammit, that idiot behind me had just flashed his brights. Why did he do that? There was no way I was going to pull over to see if there was something wrong with the car.

Where was that cell phone? Had I lost it again? I dumped the entire contents of my purse onto the seat and grabbed the cell. Its name was Peter the Mediocre. He wasn't a Great cell phone. I punched in the familiar numbers. The phone buzzed twice. Neek answered on the third ring.
Thank God.
My shoulders relaxed a notch.

“Hi, Cressa. Wait a minute.” She panted a couple of times. “I gotta catch my breath. Doing… extreme yoga.”

“Extreme yoga? I see how that's something that would appeal to you, Neek.”

“You should try it, Cress.” Another pant. “What's up? Where are you now? Hey, I have good news.”

“I don't know where I am and I'm being tailgated. That's why I called you.” I tried to take the tremor out of my voice. “These cornfields go on forever. Why can't I ever win the lottery and get a GPS for my car?”

“Don't whine, Cressa.” She chuckled. “And be patient.” She told me that a lot. “When the omens are right, you'll win.”

I felt better talking to her. Neek was my best friend and lived in my apartment building. I'd asked her to handle my mail and plants when I'd fled Chicago earlier that day.

“I don't think that latest ‘if-I-can't-have-you' note from Len was a good omen,” I said. Those notes, slipped under my door at night, were getting more frequent—and more frightening.

“He'll never find you in Alpha, don't worry. And, speaking of omens, this one's divine.” Her little-girl voice squeaked with excitement. “Listen, Cress, I found a quarter outside your apartment door right after you left. You know what
that
means.”

“No, I don't. This is your good news?” Neek was a sweet person and a true friend, but she tended to find omens in the strangest things. Last week she'd been foretelling the future by the clouds.

“Yep. A quarter. That's big stuff. Big changes for you. Oh, Cressa, this fits right in with you finally going to visit your grandmother. I'm
so
glad you're doing this.”

I eased my foot off the gas. The car behind me slowed, too.

“Are you near your computer?” I asked her. “I need you to tell me if I should go through Ophiem or just drive on past it? Nothing has looked familiar since the Quad Cities.”

I had driven across the floor of a wide valley, then climbed a gentle hill. The name of the town, Ophiem, was so familiar I thought I should drive through it. I turned onto the smaller road toward the town. But that soon felt wrong. And the car still trailed me. I made a sudden U-turn on the local road into Ophiem and headed back toward Highway 150. That should shake him.

A glance in the rearview mirror told me no one was following now. I let out a relieved breath.

I would breathe even easier if I knew what kind of reception Gram would give me. I had tried calling three times to tell her I might be coming, but I hadn't been able to reach her. Preferring anyway to see her face to face for our first real conversation, I was relieved and left a few brief messages. She would be glad to see me, wouldn't she? My burst of self-congratulation, at being the first to capitulate and end our feud, was fast giving way to doubt.

“I can't wait to see her face when she realizes I'm actually at her cabin,” I said. “Unless she doesn't want to see me.”

“You're her favorite grandchild. She'll want to see you. Promise me you won't mention the piano.”

“Okay. Not at first, anyway.”

“Hey, I'm just glad you're going to see her.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat, put there by her soft sympathy. “So am I. So am I.”

“That's what this quarter must mean, a
good
surprise. And, by the way, that ficus of yours is dying of thirst.”

I wanted to kill two birds: get away from Len's harassment and surprise Gram. Well, maybe three birds. A quiet, rural lake should be a good place to finish this piece of music. I'd been stalled on it for weeks, and my teaching job this fall depended on it. I hoped Gram would once again serve as my muse.

“Did you go through Orion?” Neek pronounced it like the constellation.

“It's ORE-ion,” I remembered from years ago, “and yes, that was awhile—”

“Yep, the highway goes right past a town called Ophiem. You're almost there.”

“Past, not through, right?”

“Right. A straight shot down Highway One-Fifty. Unless you're on the interstate?”

“No, I'm back on track. Thanks, Neek. I'll call you tonight.”

“Tell me all about her new cabin when you get there.”

“Her ‘cute' little cabin?” My lip involuntarily curled into a sneer.

“Yes. And give your Gram a big hug from me.”

A glint caught my rearview mirror. I flinched and blinked. Then I saw headlights close behind me. The hair on the nape of my neck raised. Was it the same car? I slowed again to try to shake it.

“I'll give her hugs from both of us. You know, Neek, I think a car really is following me. It's been behind me ever since I passed the Quad City airport. I hope it's not …”

“Len?”

“I don't know. The car kinda looks like his, but how could it be? He has no idea I'm here.”

“Well, I saw—”

“Neek, are you there? Neek?” I'd lost her. I tossed Peter the Mediocre in the direction of my purse. Cell phones were so useless. Mine was usually either lost, or out of juice, or dropping calls.

Chapter 2

Nocturne: A piece of a dreamily romantic
or sentimental character, without fixed form (Fr.)

Sure enough, I soon passed the town limit sign of Alpha, Pop. 550. The car that looked like Len's—a blue two-seater convertible—slowed for the town, but when I pulled into the parking lot of a bowling alley, it went on by. I gave a sigh of relief; I didn't trust the restraining order to keep him away. Then I backtracked to the turn-off for the lake and rattled down a rough road until a sign told me I was entering Crescent Lake Club. It directed all visitors to “Please stop at the first yellow house on the left, past the swimming area.”

I'd turned off the music, but Moussorgsky's ominous tones that had still been playing in my head gave way to the merry strings in the beginning movement of Mozart's much more cheerful
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
.

The warm June sun was finishing a peaceful descent behind distant rolling hills as I bumped along the gravel road, past the yellow house. A sign directed me to check in, but, figuring I wasn't exactly a visitor, I turned and aimed my trusty Honda up the hill. Gram had described her new country place and, after I reached the crown of the hill, I recognized it from the huge blue spruce standing guard. It
was
cute: a white-trimmed redwood cabin perched on the side of the hill leading down to the water.

It made me think of Goldilocks coming upon the Three Bears' cabin. Gram had called it her little dollhouse. The sharp tang of window-box geraniums greeted me, a sure sign this was Gram's place. She couldn't live anywhere without planting flowers.

I knew I should be happy that she'd been able to buy this cabin. Like most of the locals, she'd always had a membership to the club and used it for swimming, boating, and fishing. Unfortunately, for most of her life, she hadn't been able to afford a second home here while living in the Cities. She was returning to the place she'd grown up. I should have understood that.

I didn't see Gram's car, and no one answered my hollow banging on the wooden door. I peered into one of the two front windows and glimpsed a wagon-wheel light fixture and black pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room. But nothing stirred.

It had been… how many months since I'd last seen her? There had been a rift between us ever since Gramps died. Our latest, terse phone conversation made it obvious that rift had widened since she bought this cabin. Surely she still lived here? Had she moved without telling me?
No, Cressa, don't be ridiculous.

“Hi,” chirped a light voice behind me. I whirled. A woman about Gram's age, wearing a comfortable-looking sweat suit, came across the grass, her smile as warm as the one last ray of sun that glinted off her wavy silver hair.

“Are you looking for Ida?”

I nodded.

“I haven't seen her all day. Didn't talk to her yesterday, either. I had to take our kids to the airport last night. My name is Grace Harmon.” She stuck out a worn hand that was soft when I shook it. “My husband and I live right over there.” She waved at the cabin across the gravel road. “I think Ida must have gone into the Cities. She talked about going a couple days ago. Ida usually leaves her car there.” Grace glanced back at my car, ticking while it cooled beside the road, and gestured. “Doesn't look like she's around.”

“I guess I should have let her know exactly when I was coming. But I wanted to surprise her.”

“So, you must be Cressa.”

“Yes, her granddaughter.”

“Oh, I know all about you. She's been hoping you'd come.”

“Yes, well… ” I wasn't going to get into that stuff with this woman I didn't know. I wondered if what Grace said was true—I hoped so.

“You can get a key from Toombs, down in that yellow house. He's the manager. He keeps extra keys, just in case. I'm sure he'll let you in. Tell you what, I'll go get it for you.”

I started to thank her, but she was already halfway across the grass. After Grace came back and gave me the key, I hauled my suitcase and piano keyboard into the cabin, sat for a good ten minutes, rehearsing what I would say to her. My cell phone beeped that it was low and I plugged it in.

It was almost dark and I knew from our phone calls that Gram liked to swim in the lake at dusk. Maybe, if I went down for a dip, she would return and come join me in the water. I scribbled a note, propped it on the countertop, and took off. Gram and I had always loved to swim together.

The water wasn't warm, but that would never stop Gram. So it wasn't going to stop me.

As I stroked through the dark lake she had grown up with, hoping to see her soon, the ripples of Debussy's
La Mer
accompanied me in my mind. Gram had made sure I learned how to swim, but I still hated putting my head underwater, so I usually swam either a sidestroke or a backstroke. She had passed her love of swimming on to me, though, and being in the water connected me to her. She hadn't liked to put her head underwater, either.

In the cool of the June evening, having frog-kicked and sidestroked halfway across the lake, I rolled over onto my back and watched the light show—fireflies sparkling on the eastern shore where I had started. A peace fell over me that I hadn't enjoyed for a long time. The fireflies competed with the far-flung stars overhead, and all were accompanied by the lazy creak of crickets.

When I had left my beach coat and sandals in a heap on the sandy shore, the lake hadn't looked this wide. I was tiring, but, backstroking through the water's cool embrace, I figured my outstretched hands would soon hit the mud bank, or maybe a tree root, on the west side. I didn't remember how deep it was there, so maybe, if I couldn't touch bottom, I could pull myself onto the bank and rest a bit before starting back. This side of the lake was inky black. Nothing but trees here: no cabins, no road.

I was sure I was in the general area Gram and I used to swim to when I was a child. Sometimes, when I was very young, and if I tired midway, she'd tread water and support me until I regained the strength to continue. I could almost feel her strong hands under me, buoying me up and propelling me gently through the water.

It was neither the mud bank nor a tree root I touched, though, and not with my hand. My toes met something oddly soft. I stood up in the shallows, reached under the water, grabbed some cloth, and more of the squishy stuff. A set of tympani roared in my head and I knew. Somehow I knew.