The Chocolate Bear Burglary (15 page)

I tried frantically to picture the car Jeff and I had seen. I simply didn’t care enough about cars to remember it. My dad was an auto mechanic, so you’d think I would have been raised knowing one taillight from another, but Rich’s view of cars solely as status symbols had made me lose interest in the whole subject. If a vehicle moved when I pressed the accelerator, that was all I asked.

Tess’s car was an inexpensive Ford. But Jeff had said the fleeing car had been some sort of sports car. Had he recognized it as a sports car? Or had he simply been leading us astray?

Joe and Chief Jones had also been staring at the broken taillight; and it was Tess who spoke first. “I certainly hope the city of Warner Pier will pay for that light,” she said. “Those things are expensive to replace, and I’ll get a ticket if I drive without it.”

I bent over to look more closely, and both Chief Jones and Joe knelt behind the car.

“You won’t be driving it for a few days,” Chief Jones said. He and Joe looked at the snow under the rear of the car.

“Maybe you could scoop the snow up and melt it down,” Joe said. “See what you find.”

“It had to happen here,” the Chief said. “We were looking all over for broken taillights. If we’d found an abandoned car with one, we’d have noticed. Besides, if one of my guys puts a car in the lot without making a note of anything that’s wrong with it, I’ll have his uniform. There was nothing on the record sheet.”

“What are they talking about?” Tess said to me.

“They’re saying the light wasn’t broken when the car was towed in.”

It made sense. If the police impounded a car, they’d be responsible for its condition when it was picked up by the owner. They couldn’t leave themselves open to the kind of demands that Tess had just made, that they pay for damage that occurred while the car was in their lot.

The chief stood up. “Guess I’d better ask around, find out if anybody unusual was seen in the city lot.”

“But who’s going to take care of getting this fixed?” Tess said. “If it was all right when it was towed in . . .”

“For the moment, we’re going to keep the car, get the crime lab to look at it,” the chief said. “We’ll try to find out just what happened.”

“I haven’t got the money to repair it,” Tess said. “And my dad doesn’t either.” Her face was all screwed up. Tess obviously didn’t come from a wealthy family. Jeff would have shrugged off the damage.

“Come on, Tess,” I said. “We’ll worry about getting the taillight fixed after Chief Jones investigates. Right now we’re heading for the house. I’ve got the wonderful job of trying to track down Jeff’s dad.”

“Oh, no! You can’t call him. He mustn’t find out I’m here.”

I sighed. “Come on,” I said.

Joe handed Tess her backpack. He grinned at me, I guess because I was the one stuck with Tess and he wasn’t. “I’ll call Webb Bartlett,” he said. “His office ought to be open by nine.”

“Who’s Webb Bartlett?” Tess was still pouting.

I started shoving her toward my van, parked around the corner. “Webb Bartlett is the lawyer Joe is going to call and ask to represent Jeff. That’s why I have to get hold of Jeff’s dad.”

“But I can’t let anybody know where I am.”

“Jeff needs a lawyer,” I said. “His dad is going to have to pay the bill.”

“But surely there’s some way . . .”

“Look, Tess! Jeff may be accused of a very serious crime. I may feel sure he didn’t commit it, and you may feel sure he didn’t commit it. But that doesn’t count. If he doesn’t have the right legal representation, he may go to prison for years!”

“But I can’t let anybody know where I am!”

At that I lost what temper I had left. “Oh, yes, you can! You can quit running away like a little kid. You can tell me why you and Jeff left college and came up here. You can tell me—and Chief Jones—why you were hiding out in that motel, why Jeff wouldn’t tell us you were with him. Why you abandoned your car in the parking lot of a grocery store.”

“No! No, I can’t!”

“Okay! Don’t tell us. Stand around saving your cute little butt and let Jeff be convicted of murder!”

“Murder?” Tess gave a sob, and when she spoke her voice was just a whisper. “Murder is what we were trying to avoid.”

I stared at her, and she stared back, and suddenly I was cold clear through. And only part of it was because it was dawn on a winter day in Michigan.

What had Tess meant? Murder was what she and Jeff had been trying to avoid? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked her. All she did was cry.

Tess had scared me into regaining control of my temper, I was able to talk more calmly. “Let’s go out to Aunt Nettie’s. Maybe she can inject a little common sense into the situation.”

We walked around the corner and got into the van, and I started the motor. “I’m exhausted,” I said. “Whatever you and Jeff and the Warner Pier burglar are up to, it’s sure kept me from sleeping the last couple of nights.”

I started to pull out from the curb, but lights flashed in my rearview mirror, and I stopped to let a car pass. It didn’t pass. It stopped, blocking me. Its door opened, and the driver jumped out. “Lee!” he yelled. “Lee!” He ran around the front of the car—it was a big Lincoln—and I saw the shock of beautiful hair. It was Hart VanHorn.

I rolled my window down. “Hart?”

“I hoped that was you. I saw the Dallas Cowboys sticker on the van yesterday.”

“It’s me. My dad put the sticker on, so I wouldn’t forget my origins. What can I do for you?”

“A reporter I know called to find out if I’d heard anything about a murder here in Warner Pier.”

“Oh, it’s a regular mess,” I said. “And it looks like my stepson is in the middle of it—I don’t mean he did it! But he found the body, and the police are holding him.”

“That’s what Mike Herrera said.”

“Mike Herrera? How’d he get involved?”

“As the mayor of Warner Pier, he knows most things that go on around here. So I called him.”

I should have figured it out without asking. Hart VanHorn was important; a state legislator and a possible candidate for Congress. That meant he would have lots of contacts. He could probably find out anything about anybody in the entire state of Michigan with one phone call.

“Mike said the victim was Gail Hess,” Hart said. “That’s why Mom and I came down to find out what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry to say I haven’t given poor Gail a thought,” I said. “I’ve been too worried about Jeff.”

“Does he need a lawyer? I could call—well, nobody in my old firm handles criminal matters, but I know people who do.”

“Joe Woodyard was here—his mom was the second person on the scene. Joe said he knew somebody. Webb Bartlett?”

“Webb’s a good choice.” A smile flickered over Hart’s face. “Joe and Webb were a year behind me in law school. Joe knows a lot more about defense attorneys than I do.”

Neither of us needed to go into the reasons Joe knew a lot about defense attorneys. But Hart had brought up another point.

“Did you say a reporter called you?”

“That’s right. A political reporter from the
Chicago Tribune
.”

“Chicago! Oh, no!”

“He’s a nice guy. We’ve dealt with each other before. Why does that upset you?”

“Because Chicago is a long way from the
Warner Pier Gazette.
That means the reporter got a tip. And that means somebody from Warner Pier called him. Or called somebody.”

“So?”

“So, somebody around here is still in contact with the reporters—maybe the tabloid reporters—who had such a great time in Warner Pier when Clementine Ripley was killed.”

“Not good.”

“No.” I dropped my voice. “Listen, Hart, let’s forget that pizza for now.”

“But I’m not afraid for the press to know I have a date with an attractive—”

“That’s very chivalrous, but this is not the time.”

Hart looked as if he were going to argue, but before he said anything someone else spoke. “Hart? Were you able to find out anything?”

Hart moved, and for the first time I realized that his mother was in the car behind him.

“Oh! Mrs. VanHorn,” I said. “It’s a real mess.”

She raised her well-bred eyebrows. “Is it true that Gail Hess has been killed?”

“I’m afraid so.” As Olivia and I peered at each other through our car windows, Hart stood in the street between us and Tess huddled in the seat beside mine. I sketched what I knew about the situation, worked in a casual introduction of Tess, identifying her as a friend of Jeff’s, and described the discovery of Gail’s body.

Olivia frowned. “This is very shocking.”

“It’s certainly shocking for Warner Pier,” I said. “Frankly, once the tourists go home, we have almost no crime. But after the wild events of last summer”—Olivia nodded to indicate that she remembered the murder of Clementine Ripley—“this could turn into another invasion of the tabloid press.”

“Yes, Mother.” Hart’s voice sounded mocking. “It could mean a big scandal.”

Olivia shot him what—in a less-refined woman—could have been a dirty look. “I didn’t know Gail very well,” she said. “Had she mentioned any personal situation that might be linked to this? Any quarrels? Any threats? Family problems?”

“Family problems are the most frequent cause of murder,” Hart said. “That and psychological problems.” He almost sounded amused.

Was I imagining the mockery in his voice? I glanced at him, but his face was bland. “Gail hadn’t said anything to me,” I said. “I had only seen her a few times recently, when she came over to see the display of molds and when she came to pick them up. Then, of course, she came back when she discovered that one of them was missing.”

Hart spoke then. “One was missing?”

“Yes. We hadn’t realized it at first.”

“She called and told me about it,” Olivia said. Her voice sounded a little short.

“She and Aunt Nettie searched everywhere,” I said. “It was the trained bear in the harness. All we could conclude was that the burglar took it. But we don’t know why—it was up on a top shelf. That was the last time I saw Gail. Maybe she did have some personal problem. She seemed to see some big significance in that particular mold being missing. And she seemed fascinated by the sports car Jeff and I saw. Her reaction was really strange. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“Strange?” Hart said. “Strange in what way?”

I opened my mouth to describe Gail’s triumphant behavior, but Olivia spoke. “Lee and Jeff’s friend must be freezing, Hart. We should get home.”

I realized that Olivia was right about the temperature. Tess’s teeth were chattering. Hart said good-bye; he and his mother drove on, and I pulled out behind them, following them across the Warner River bridge and down Lake Shore Drive, since their house was maybe a quarter of a mile beyond Aunt Nettie’s. The taillights of the Lincoln kept going as I turned into the drive.

I escorted Tess inside and introduced her to Aunt Nettie. Aunt Nettie had moved Jeff’s things out of the extra room and changed the bed for Tess. She’d tossed Jeff’s sheets and towels into the washing machine; it was quite homey to come into the old house and find it smelling of laundry soap, bacon, and coffee. Aunt Nettie was going to have Tess eating out of her hand by lunchtime.

After breakfast I did the dishes, Aunt Nettie went back to bed, and Tess took a shower. By then it was after ten o’clock, which meant it would be after nine a.m. in Dallas. Rich’s office would be open. I couldn’t put off that phone call any longer. This time I had to explain the entire situation to someone who knew how to get hold of Rich—in Mexico, or wherever he was. Even if it was Miss Brit.

The receptionist with the British accent answered again, and once again she assured me that Rich was unavailable, and that his personal assistant was, too. I took a deep breath, then asked for Alicia Richardson.

“Tell her it’s Lee McKinney,” I said.

That put a little excitement into Miss Brit’s clipped tones. We might not have met, but after my repeated phone calls I was willing to bet she had found out I was Rich’s ex. If he was off on a trip with his first wife, having the second one turn up—even on the telephone—was sure to put the office on its ear.

Almost immediately I heard Alicia’s soft Texas voice. “Accounting.”

“Alicia, it’s Lee.”

“Lee? Lee McKinney?”

“Right!”

Alicia actually sounded glad to hear from me. She began a flurry of questions. “Where are you, Lee? We heard you’d moved to Michigan.”

“I’m fine, Alicia, and I did move to Michigan. And I want to know all about your family. But first, I’ve got an emergency up here, and I need to find Rich ASAP. Can you help me?”

Alicia’s voice became cautious. “Well, Lee, Rich is on a trip to Mexico. And he’s deliberately out of contact with the office and—”

“I know he’s with Dina, Alicia. I wish them luck.”

“Oh.” Alicia sounded relieved.

“But Jeff is up here, and he’s in bad trouble.”

The conversation went on about fifteen minutes. Alicia had worked for Rich for years—she was an old hand when Rich and I got married. She knew all the dirt on him, and she almost ran his business.

“The problem is,” Alicia said, “Rich promised Dina he wouldn’t be calling the office three times a day, the way he usually does when he leaves town.”

“Don’t I know!”

Alicia laughed. “And this time he’s actually sticking to it.”

“He must be serious.”

“I think he is, Lee. So he and Dina may be hard to find. But I’ll get on the phone and start trying.”

“Thanks, Alicia. In the meantime, we’re hiring Jeff a lawyer up here. And I’m assuring that lawyer that he’ll be paid.”

“Right. Rich is still solvent.” Alicia hesitated. “And you say Jeff hasn’t given you any explanation of why he came to Michigan?”

It was my time to hesitate. Should I tell her about Tess?