Heritage of Darkness (26 page)

evil that he or she had imbued the thing with bad ju-ju.

Roelke jiggled one knee up and down impatiently. “What?”

“Please, let’s go. We can talk over coffee.” She stood and zipped

up her coat.

Fifteen minutes later they were settled into the corner booth at

the café. Roelke returned Chloe’s palm-out gesture while he

ordered a healthy breakfast for them both.

“And some almond pastry,” Chloe called after the waitress.

Roelke frowned. “You really need to eat better.”

“I usually eat OK these days,” she objected. “I only eat pastry

when I’m stressed. You didn’t have to order for me. I would have

made up for it at lunchtime.”

“My grandmother used to say that sometimes, the only thing

you can do for someone you care about is make sure they eat a

good meal.”

Someone you care about.
Jeez, that sounded good—especially in the middle of a week that was proving worse than her wildest

imaginings. She opened her mouth to say something mushy.

“Tell me what you know about that goat,” Roelke said crisply.

218

The goat. Right. Chloe took a fortifying swig of a dark roast

and felt marginally ready to wade back into the mess. “OK, let’s

back up,” she said. “I talked to Nika last night—remember my

intern? Anyway, she did some research and came up with a nasty

little tidbit about
budstikker.
”
Chloe had no trouble reciting from memory. “A cord attached to one end of the
budstikke
, and a scorch mark on the other, reminded people that disobeying a summons would result in men being hanged and women being burned

out of their homes.”
That reference to burning made her skin prickle.

Roelke’s grim expression didn’t waver. “I do not like what I’m

hearing.”

“If the message tube came from a collector, maybe the telling

details—the scorch mark, and the cord—don’t have any signifi-

cance. Maybe the Rimestads did mean it to be a gift honoring old

customs. Or maybe one of Sigrid’s Norske neighbors is getting

into the holiday spirit by sending party invitations in medieval

fashion, and doesn’t understand the symbolism.”

“Or,” Roelke countered, “the cord and scorch mark might have

been part of the message.”

Chloe thought about the other three women asleep inside

when the cylinder had been left, and slumped against worn leather.

“What about those carved symbols?”

“They remind me of what we saw on that calendar stick. A mit-

ten to signify winter, and … maybe the bonfire signifies the sol-

stice.”

“Or arson,” Roelke said. “I’m going to give this thing to Chief

Moyer.”

“We should at least ask Tom and Adelle Rimestad if—”

219

“I am giving the damn thing to Chief Moyer,” Roelke growled.

“It may be a joke or a gift, but it may be a threat. This is police business.”

Chloe sighed reluctantly. “You’re right.”

The waitress arrived with their OJ and oatmeal, plus pastry

and lingonberry jam. Chloe dug in. “Listen,” she mumbled over a

bite of pastry. “I’ve been thinking about what happened last night.

I was driving
Mom’s
car. It’s possible that someone saw the car and assumed that she was the one staying late.”

Roelke’s jaw tightened. “I thought of that too. But why would

someone want to hurt your mother?”

“I have no idea. Here’s the thing, though. Maybe it’s not even

just my mom. Maybe it’s the Sixty-Sevens. You have to admit

they’ve had a pretty bad run of luck lately. Phyllis Hoff died of

cancer. Adelle Rimestad is dying of lung disease. Petra was mur-

dered. Someone shut my mother in the storage vault. Her class-

room was set on fire. Then that damned carved goat and spooky

message was delivered to Sigrid’s porch, in a manner that might

have been threatening. Is it possible that the killer’s rage wasn’t aimed at Petra specifically? Could all of the Sixty-Sevens be at

risk?”

“Petra was attacked, and I believe the fire was set. But other-

wise … one death from cancer, a woman dying of lung disease. You

said yourself that it was likely just kids who shut your mother in the vault. And as far as I know, Lavinia’s doing fine.”

Chloe rubbed her forehead. She just couldn’t fit the week’s

events into any reasonable box.

Roelke patted his coat pocket. “Does this tube look like the one

Hoff got last summer?”

220

“No. But it’s unlikely that it would. A collector would do well

to find more than one.”

Roelke nodded, and was silent for a moment before asking,

“Can you get a list of all the Sixty-Sevens?”

Chloe thought of Sigrid’s scrapbooks. “That shouldn’t be a

problem.”

“When I give the message-thing to the local cops, I’ll ask if

Buzzelli can check on all of your mom’s friends. Maybe someone

else got a threat, or a note like this, that we’re not aware of. A pattern might emerge. At this point, every lead is worth pursuing. I’ll head to the PD at lunchtime, so … how ’bout we plan to meet at

the afternoon break?”

“Sure.”

He drained the last of his juice. “You about ready to go?”

“One more thing.” Chloe twiddled her spoon. “I had an inter-

esting visit with Edwina Ree last night.” She quickly summarized

Edwina’s interest in and knowledge of ancient Scandinavian

Christmas traditions, including the howling band of demons wait-

ing to descend from the night sky and wreak havoc. “She used a

word I wasn’t familiar with,” Chloe concluded. “
Mørkemakten.
She said it referred to ‘the power of darkness.’ And yes, that is an exact quote.”

Roelke drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Do you think

she might have something to do with that message in the tube?”

“I think it’s extremely unlikely. Edwina seems to be in good

shape for a woman in her nineties, but her driveway hadn’t even

been plowed.” Chloe pictured Edwina sitting so still in her old parlor, tipping her head slightly from time to time, listening …

221

Chloe shivered once, shaking off the notion of phantoms and

ghoulies. Forget the mythology, she ordered herself. Concentrate

on the here and now. “There was a set of tire tracks in the snow, so I suppose it’s possible that she’s more mobile than it appeared. But why would Edwina Ree want to leave a threat?”

“We don’t know yet why anyone wants to threaten anybody,”

Roelke observed. “That’s what we need to find out.”

How did I get in the middle of this? Chloe thought miserably.

Roelke glanced over his shoulder, then leaned on his forearms.

“Howard Hoff is still on my short list of suspects in Petra Lek-

strom’s murder. Chief Moyer thinks a man most likely swung that

lefse
pin. I agree with him.”

“Who else is on the list?”

“As far as I know, the other men in my carving class have never

been to Vesterheim before. That leaves Emil, Hoff, and Rimestad.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be too quick to rule out a woman as

attacker.”

Roelke’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”

“All the damn
julebukker
talk. Edwina believes that the disguises gave people in insular communities a rare chance to act up.

She wasn’t talking about whacking somebody in the head, but

still … the point is that today, people with dark feelings might not have even one night to blow off steam. It made me think …” She

grimaced, then came out with it. “Maybe one of the good women

of Decorah isn’t quite as genteel as we think.”



222

“It’s a what?” Buzzelli asked, staring at the antique Roelke had

placed on his desk. It was a little after noon, and a half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich lay on a napkin in front of the investigator.

Chief Moyer was out, so Roelke had brought Buzzelli up to speed.

“A
budstikke
.” Roelke flipped his notebook open to the page where he’d had Chloe print the word. “I haven’t seen the one Hoff

got last summer, but from what I’ve heard, that one was carved

with acanthus vines instead of just these little symbols. Plus no

scorch mark, no cord.”

Buzzelli leaned back in his chair. “Almost six months have

passed since Hoff got his threat. And that one was specifically

addressed to him, about a conflict that, frankly, disappeared when Miss Lekstrom died. Other than using these wooden things for

delivery, I don’t see a direct connection.”

“I don’t either, but maybe Petra Lekstrom’s murder was not an

isolated incident,” Roelke said carefully. “A number of painters

have experienced health problems or other bad luck. I can get you

a list of the other local women in that group, if you’d like.”

Buzzelli picked up his sandwich. “I think this line of thinking is a waste of time.”

“I’m a belt-and-suspenders kind of guy,” Roelke said. “Can’t be

too careful.”

The investigator gave one firm, negative headshake. “My prior-

ity is solving the Lekstrom murder. I have limited resources. Unless you can give me some real evidence that anyone else is being

threatened, I can’t justify the time it would take to track those

other women down.”

223

“Okey-dokey,” Roelke said, still aiming for that
I’m an easy-

going colleague with no wish to get in your way
tone. He got to his feet. “See you around.”



When the afternoon break came, Chloe was so eager to meet up

with Roelke that she bypassed the tray of
krumkakke
left in the lounge. In truth, though, it wasn’t just the goodies she wanted to avoid. The Beginning Telemark class had moved to the textile

room, and she had no wish to glimpse the fire-scarred classroom

they’d vacated even through the oh-so-thick glass window. It was

bad enough that the whole building stank of oily smoke.

On the first floor, Roelke treated her to a kiss before murmur-

ing, “Want to take a quick walk? I’ll fill you in on my noon visit to the PD.”

“Can we go to the museum? I want to look at something.”

They didn’t bother with coats, and Roelke kept an arm over her

shoulders as they strode down the block. Chloe wasn’t sure if he

was trying to keep her warm, feeling over-protective, or indulging in actual couple-stuff. Whatever the motivation, she was happy to

go with it.

“Investigator Buzzelli doesn’t see a connection between to the

message cylinder left on Sigrid’s porch and the Lekstrom investi-

gation,” Roelke told her.

“It’s not his mother who might be a target,” Chloe muttered.

“We can pursue it ourselves.”

224

“Fine,” Chloe said. “I’ll start checking in with the other Sixty-

Sevens.” She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to do that, but she’d figure something out.

“I’m planning to visit Hoff at home this evening. I want to see

him away from his work environment.”

“I hate to think what might have happened if Howard hadn’t

come by right when he did last night,” Chloe said. “He knew where

the phone was, and the fire extinguishers.” She hesitated. “But on the other hand …”

“On the other hand, he showed up at quite a convenient time,”

Roelke finished.

And Howard was actually the reason she’d suggested this little

excursion. She felt idiotic for trying to channel some inner Nancy Drew. Still, she felt better for doing
something
.

They’d reached the museum building. “What do you want to

see?” Roelke asked.

“I want to go back to the Norwegian House.”

Roelke frowned. “That is not a good idea.”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I had a strange conversation

with Howard yesterday. He’d just hired a professional crew to

come in and clean up, and was worried about protecting the arti-

facts, but when I offered to talk to them, he declined. In fact, he rather forcefully refused.”

“So?”

“So, Howard hasn’t hesitated to ask me for all kinds of favors

this week. Why not accept my help? I was relieved, but now it

makes me wonder. What if there’s something in the Norwegian

House he didn’t want me to see?”

225

“What could that possibly be?” Roelke asked in an undertone.

“You can be sure that cops crawled over every inch of the place.”

Chloe gave the volunteer greeter a friendly wave before tugging

Roelke through the lobby. He was right, of course. There couldn’t

possibly be anything helpful to see or find in the Norwegian House exhibit. But she felt compelled to try.

As they walked in, it was impossible not to flash back to the

moment she’d found Petra in the trunk. Although most signs of

the investigation had been removed, the absence of that trunk was

itself glaring. Two nearby blue wallboards had been replaced with

raw planks. Chloe pointed at the pale scar. “Why would they

take …” she began, then let the question fade away. She didn’t need Roelke’s
I’d rather not spell things out for you
look to figure it out.

The cops must have found traces of Petra’s blood on the wall.

Chloe turned away. If there was something here Howard hadn’t

wanted her to see, what could it possibly be? Think, she told her-

self. Look hard.

She prowled through the rooms with Roelke a silent escort.

Nothing suspicious presented itself. Finally he said, “We better

head back.”

Chloe took one last look around. “I wish it hadn’t happened