The Easter Egg Murder (18 page)

46

Monday Evening, April 17, 2000

As soon as Swannie left, Ginger retrieved the metal box they’d taken from Philip’s safe room that morning. “Here,” she said, “start with number thirteen. I think it’s the next one in line, and I hope it’s the most important.”

Harrie put the cassette in the machine and pressed the button. They heard Philip clearing his throat
then say, “This is Tuesday evening, April 11, 2000. It follows tape number twelve from earlier today. I’m picking up after the phrase, ‘and it would have stayed that way except for what happened next’.” There were noises as he adjusted the microphone. Then his voice became strong and sure.

“In 1952, about two years after the murder, I received a phone call at the newspaper from a woman
. She sounded very frightened and wouldn’t tell me her name. She told me not to tell anyone she had contacted me. She directed me to go to the Alvarado Hotel the next day at two, sit in the lobby and pretend to read a newspaper. Then, when I was sure no one had followed me, I was supposed to go into the bar, sit in the back booth and order a Manhattan with two cherries.

“
When she said that, I was ready to dismiss the whole thing as a huge practical joke, cooked up by one of my colleagues at the paper. I almost told her to get lost, but there was something about her voice, fright tinged with desperation. So I agreed to the meeting and she thanked me profusely.

“The next afternoon, at precisely two o’clock, I walked
into the Alvarado Hotel. The afternoon train from Chicago had just pulled into the station, and the place was alive with activity as passengers disembarked and greeted friends and family. I found a comfortable chair in the lobby and sat, pretending to read the newspaper I’d brought with me. I glanced up periodically, but no one seemed the least bit interested in a guy reading a paper in a hotel lobby. Ten minutes later, I made my way to the bar, found the proper booth, and sat facing the doorway so I could see her when she arrived. I ordered the Manhattan with the two cherries and sipped it as I waited.

“I don’t know how, but suddenly she was there, sliding into the booth opposite me. She must have been hiding somewhere, observing me. She got down to business immediately, ask
ing if I’d been followed. I thought of several sarcastic comebacks, but simply said ‘No’.

“She wasn’t a bad-looking young woman, but she wasn’t very appealing either. Her casual cotton dress had seen better days. It was too big, and I imagined an older relative had passed it down to her. Her long black hair needed the attentions of a
hairdresser. She carried a big straw handbag that could have doubled as a grocery sack.

“She said she h
ad information to give somebody but was afraid. She chose me because she read my follow-up pieces on the Chipper Finn murder and thought she could trust me. We stopped talking as the waitress came up to take her order, which turned out to be a Champagne Cocktail. Her choice surprised me. It didn’t seem to fit her circumstances or her personality, if things like that can be judged by one’s choice of beverage. I found myself evaluating her and trying to figure her connection to Chipper Finn.

“After the drink arrived, she asked me questions about the stories I’d written. She must have read them repeatedly, because she could almost quote them back to me. I asked her name but she said, ‘I’ll tell you next time
’. As she talked, her eyes searched the faces of the other patrons while she systematically shredded her cocktail napkin. She reminded me of a nervous rabbit, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

“Then she took a deep breath and seemed to relax a little. She said, ‘I worked with Chipper Finn at Casa Caliente in Los Huevos. We became good friends and even shared an apartment for a while
’.

“
She took one more look around the room then leaned in and said, ‘Chipper told me something two weeks before she died. If you want to know what she said, I want $1,000 in cash’.

“I almost got up and left right the
n because this felt like a scam with me the patsy. I said, ‘Why I should pay for something I can’t verify?’

“She reached in
to her purse and handed me a photograph of Chipper Finn and the woman across from me. I tossed the photo back and said, ‘Okay, so you knew her well enough to have your picture made with her. That doesn’t mean you know anything of value’.

“She pulled out another snapshot from her bag. This time Chipper Finn stared back at me, and she held a tiny baby in her arms. I looked at my companion and shrugged. ‘So, what does this prove?’

“She said, ‘That’s Chipper’s baby. That’s why I need the money. It’s for the child.’ She took the picture back and returned it to her handbag.

“Turning casually, she looked toward the entrance of the bar. In one fluid
motion, she got up and joined me on my side of the booth. Her voice was very low now, and I strained to hear her above the sounds of the patrons a few tables away. She continued her story, but kept surveying her surroundings, looking for . . . what, I wondered?

“
Her voice cracked. ‘When Chipper found out she was going to have a baby, I told her about a place in Las Cruces where unwed mothers go to have their babies. I grew up in Las Cruces, and I decided it was time to go back. I told her I could help her when the time came. She planned to give the baby up for adoption. She said she dreaded what her mother and brother would do if they found out about her pregnancy. As an unmarried woman, it would disgrace the family, and she could never let them find out. But after the birth, she just couldn’t go through with it. Instead, she and the baby came to stay with me. She decided to come back to Albuquerque to talk to the baby’s father. She refused to name him. She said unless he agreed to marry her, she couldn’t risk telling me. So I offered to take care of the child while she went to Albuquerque. Then two weeks before she died, Chipper called me and said someone had threatened her. I asked who, but she wouldn’t say. She begged me to take her child and go to El Paso until she got some money together and then she’d join us. I left with the baby the next day and found a room at a boarding house in the middle of town, but she never showed up. Then I saw in the papers that she’d been murdered, and I knew I couldn’t come back. I stayed in El Paso, working whatever jobs I could get. We got by. But now the kid’s sick, and I need money for a doctor. Please, you’ve got to help us. There’s nowhere else I can turn’.

“I finished my drink as I stalled for time
and sorted through my options. I thought I might be able to get the newspaper to come up with the cash if they thought we had a story here. But how did I know any of it was true? There were so many unanswered questions. I said, ‘I’ll see what I can do. How will I get in touch with you?’

“She said, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow
’. Then she left as quickly as she had arrived.”

The machine stopped. They sat staring at it a few seconds.

“The elusive Becky Martinez, I presume.” Harrie said.

“Probably. There must be more on another tape.”
Ginger rummaged through the tapes in the box, then sat back, disappointed. “Maybe he stashed it some other place.”

“Why would he do that?” Harrie argued. “If he went to the trouble of disguising this box to look like something else, doesn’t it make sense he’d put all the tapes in it?”

The phone on the conference table interrupted further discussion.

“Hi, Honey,” Ginger said. She listened for a few seconds, her expression slowly changing to one of excitement. She snapped her fingers to get Harrie’s attention. Harrie stopped fiddling with the tapes and watched her friend, her own anticipation growing. Ginger picked up her pen and pantomimed the need for something to write on. Harrie tore a sheet from the notebook and handed it to her.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll call her back right away. We’re finished here for now. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.” She hung up the phone with a triumphant flourish.

“So I take it we’re not going back to Canyon Estates tonight?”

“No we’re not, and here’s why. We’ve been given a gift.” Ginger fairly beamed her excitement.

“What gift? Stop teasing me.” Harrie demanded.

“Steve just got off the phone with Elizabeth Snow. She left her number and wants us to call her and set up an appointment. Isn’t that great?”

Harrie’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. Before she regained her speech, Ginger picked up the phone again and dialed
.

Without looking at Harrie, Ginger said, “Elizabeth Snow is Jacob Snow’s widow. She read about the attack on Philip, and she’s decided she needs to share some information with someone. She somehow knew that you and I were helping Philip with the book. She knew Steve from the days he worked at the Snow law firm and contacted hi
m to see if we could call her.”

As Ginger made arrangements to meet with Elizabeth Snow the next morning, Harrie reached over and picked up the list she’d worked on all afternoon. She ran her finger down the column until she saw what she wanted.

“Ginger,” Harrie said, as soon as her friend hung up the phone. “This is just creepy. Look what I wrote this afternoon.”

Ginger looked at the list where Harrie pointed, then turned back to her. “I’m beginning to believe you really are psychic. You’ve actually made a notation here that the first person we should contact tomorrow is Elizabeth Snow.”

47

Tuesday Morning, April 18, 2000

On
her way to the office, Harrie thought about what she’d learned of Elizabeth Snow during her Internet search the previous day.

At age seventy-five, Snow was still a vibrant, active woman. She worked with numerous charities in New Mexico, but
the one closest to her heart was St. Anne’s House, the orphanage she helped establish in Albuquerque in the early fifties. On its website, Harrie found a short biography for Elizabeth. A strong advocate for adoption, she had been an elementary school teacher before her marriage to Jacob Snow. Unable to have children of her own, she and Jacob adopted three girls.

Harrie wanted to ask for Caroline’s help. After all, she knew Elizabeth and might be able to give them useful insight. Harrie wanted to know how Elizabeth felt about her brother-in-law, Daniel, and his nephew, Jonathan. If she knew anything about the dark side of the man, they could possibly find out if Daniel might be the one who’d ordered the attack on Philip.

Harrie arrived at the office at the same time Ginger got out of her car. As they walked in, Harrie suggested telling Caroline who they were meeting today.

“I agree.” Ginger said. “We can involve Caroline to the degree she’s willing.”

Harrie stopped. “Do you think she has a reason not to be involved?”

Ginger shrugged. “I guess that would depend on the status of her relationship with Elizabeth. You know, some wives resent their husbands’ secretary. That could make it awkward for Caroline. Let’
s just explain what we’re doing and see how she feels.”

Caroline look up from her desk
when they walked in, and Harrie motioned for her to join them in the conference room.

Ginger explained about the pending appointment with Elizabeth, and their hope Caroline could assist them.

Caroline chewed at her bottom lip and nodded. “I understand why you might think I could do that. The truth is, I don’t know how much help I can be. You see, I really liked Elizabeth, and she was always kind and pleasant to me. She’s a warm, generous person. But after Jacob died, she became withdrawn. Naturally, I assumed she was reacting to the loss of her husband, and I didn’t take it personally. But even after she resumed her life in the community, she still seemed reserved with me. I met her on several social occasions after that, and while she remained pleasant, her attitude toward me seemed different. I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Eventually, I decided Jacob was the only bond we’d had, and his death ended it.”

Ginger thought that over. “I understand why you wouldn’t be eager to see her again, but that’s not what we had in mind anyway. We just thought you could help us understand her relationship to the rest of the Snow family, especially in view of the things we’ve learned the past couple of days.”

Caroline’s eyebrows arched in an unspoken question. Harrie and Ginger took turns filling her in on the events of Sunday and Monday. When they related the story of Pablito, Caroline expressed her dismay.

“So,” Harrie went on, “we wondered what sort of relationship Elizabeth had with her husband’s family. Do you think she knew about Daniel and Peter’s illegal activities?”

“Not in the beginning, but later on she did. I know there was a huge strain on family relations. Because Jacob was the youngest, even he didn’t know for a long time what Daniel and Peter were doing. It was around the time Chipper Finn was murdered he found out about the gambling and the payoffs. By that time, Daniel was district attorney, and his brother-in-law Peter was managing the firm.”

“Did Jacob tell Elizabeth about his brother and Peter before they were married?” Ginger asked. Caroline slowly shook her head. “Jacob married Elizabeth in June, 1950. I don’t think he told her about Daniel and Peter at first. When Daniel ran for Attorney General of New Mexico in 1952 and won, Peter handled his campaign and afterwards worked in his office in Santa Fe. Daniel wanted to run for Congress, so he put Peter in charge of making that happen over the next few years. But by the end of Daniel’s second term in 1956, Peter had become a problem because of his drinking. Daniel sent him back to work at the firm, and Peter resented that. One night he got very drunk and told Jacob a lot more about the family dirty laundry than Daniel would have allowed. I don’t know exactly what he said, but for Jacob, it was the last straw.

“That’s when he told Elizabeth everything about the gambling, the bribes, payoffs and other shady things that happened in the Forties and Fifties. I think she understood Jacob’s desire to protect the family name, and she tried to avoid Daniel and Peter after that. It wasn’t too difficult since Jacob had been doing that for years.”

Harrie frowned. “So you’re saying she never spent much time around them? Hmm. Then she probably won’t be much of a source of information.”

“Not so fast.” Ginger said. “If Jacob told her all about the stuff Daniel and Peter did in the old days, she probably knows quite a lot.”

“Good point. But what about Eric Snow? Do you think she’d know anything about him?”

“It’s possible.” Caroline said. “She might know when Eric went back to Europe, and when he finally returned.”

Ginger said, “Well, thanks for the help.” She turned to Harrie. “We better get going. We’re supposed to be there in twenty minutes.”

“If you think it’s appropriate, give her my regards,” Caroline said.

They were on their way to meet Elizabeth Snow when Ginger said, “Oh, by the way, Steve finally talked to the financial people in New York.”

Harrie, who’d been deep in thought, looked momentarily confused. “Financial people? What . . . Oh! Those financial people!” She brightened up, her interest refocused.

Ginger nodded. “Believe it or not, Nick’s money seems legitimate. Dimitri Despotides’ left a sizable sum
for his grandson. They estimate that Nick left an estate well over twenty million.”