Carrot Cake Murder Part 31

"Not really, now that you cleared Bert Kuehn. But we're working on it. Somebody picked up that ice pick and stabbed him."

"You know for sure it was an ice pick?"

"Not conclusively, no. But Doc Knight found some tiny flecks of red and green paint. That matches what you told me about the ice picks that your grandfather gave for Christmas gifts. I had Rick check with the tool companies, but he couldn't find any that manufactured an awl with red and green paint on the handle, so I figure it's got to be one of your grandfather's ice picks."

"Grandfather wouldn't be happy about that," Hannah said with a sigh. "Did you find the ice pick?"

"Not yet. We got a bad break on that. If the killer was smart, he ditched it in the lake. That's almost impossible to drag."

"Why?"

"Because it's too big, and the murder weapon is too small. It would take months, and if it's under a submerged branch or buried point down in the mud, we'd never find it anyway."

"So where did you look?" Hannah asked him.

"We went through the dumpsters at the pavilion in case the killer dropped it there, but we didn't find it. And then we used a metal detector in the bushes surrounding the building." Mike chuckled slightly. "We found nine beer can openers, too many bottle caps to count, a rusted license plate from nineteen-fifty, and eleven dollars and forty-eight cents in change."

"How about the cottages? Did you search them?"

"Only the one Gus was staying in. I knew getting search warrants would be tricky since we didn't have probable cause, and I decided it would be wasting my team's time to search any of the other cottages. The killer would have to be crazy to hang onto the murder weapon."

"You're probably right," Hannah said, but she wasn't so sure. While it might be true that a cold-blooded killer would get rid of the murder weapon immediately, it might not be true for someone who struck out in the heat of the moment and then panicked when he saw what he'd done.

There was another series of electronic beeps, and Mike sighed. "I've got to take that. It's Rick Murphy from the crime lab. He's observing."

Hannah said goodbye and snapped her phone shut to end the call. There was no longer a reason to search for the baseball card, but they could search for the ice pick. Mike wasn't going to do it, and they didn't need search warrants, not if they did it while everyone was at the children's talent show.

The dark shadows from the pines loomed overhead as dusk turned into night. Hannah watched the reflection of the moon on the water and mulled over everything she'd learned until she felt the vibration of footsteps on the dock.

"We're back," Mich.e.l.le announced, dropping down into a sitting position next to Hannah. "Everyone from the cottages you want us to search is in line to get into the pavilion."

"Let's review to make sure," Hannah said. "Marge and Jack?"

"They're with Herb and Lisa," Andrea reported.

"How about Patsy and Mac?"

Mich.e.l.le nodded. "They're a little farther back in line, ahead of Edna and her sister."

"Mother and Carrie?"

"They were...we're not going to search Mother's cabin, are we?" Mich.e.l.le sounded thoroughly shocked.

"No. I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention."

In the next minute or two, Hannah cited six more names. When she'd been a.s.sured that her sisters had spotted all of them in line at the pavilion, she turned Andrea. "Did you bring the flashlight from your car?"

Andrea patted the Red Owl Grocery bag she'd placed next to her on the dock. "Got it. And we got the two mag lights from your cookie truck. So the search is on, right?"

"It's on, but the objective has changed." Hannah felt a bit like a general, giving instructions to his troops. "We're not going after the Honus Wagner baseball card anymore. I talked to Mike, and he told me it was in Gus's suitcase, and it's locked up in the police evidence room. What we're going for now is an ice pick with a red-and-green painted handle."

"Like the antique ones Grandpa Swensen gave out in his hardware store?" Andrea asked.

"Exactly like that. Doc Knight found flecks of red and green paint and we're pretty sure that one of Grandpa's ice picks is the murder weapon."

"Searching is boring work when you don't find anything," Mich.e.l.le grumbled as they came out of the pink cottage.

"I know," Hannah said. They'd found two ice picks, but one had a metal handle, and the other one had an orange plastic handle.

"We've searched five places already, and the only even vaguely interesting thing I found is that one of Lisa's brothers and his wife use different brands of toothpaste," Mich.e.l.le complained.

Andrea shrugged. "It's not that bad. Don't forget that we could be suffering through the children's talent show."

"You've got a point," Hannah said, glancing over at the pavilion, which had been released as a crime scene this morning and reopened for Lisa and Herb to use. "Only two cottages to go."

"Let's get it done," Andrea said, opening the door to the cottage where Patsy and Mac were staying and stepping inside.

Hannah headed straight for the kitchen. "Remember to keep your flashlights pointed down below window level. We don't want anyone to see a light and decide to check it out while we're here."

She didn't turn around to look, but she knew that Mich.e.l.le was going to the bedroom and bathroom, while Andrea searched the living room. They'd developed a routine, and it was working well for them. Hannah pulled open the drawers, one by one, and examined the contents. Most of the rental cottages had similar items in their kitchens. One drawer held mismatched silverware that had been moved to the summer cottage when the owner had purchased a new set for the house in town. Another drawer contained cooking utensils that had been relegated to the cottage when better ones had replaced them. The pots and pans were from yard sales or closeouts at CostMart.

Hannah moved on to the drawer next to the refrigerator. That was where most summer cottage owners kept the minimal set of tools used to tighten doork.n.o.bs, hang pictures, or pry things open. She made her way through a light hammer, two screwdrivers, one of each type, and a pair of pliers. And under those tools was something that made her gasp and step back in surprise.

There it was, one of her grandfather's ice picks. The paint on the red-and-green wooden handle was flaking off, but the point was sharp and wicked looking. Was this the ice pick that had killed Gus Klein? And if it was, what was it doing in the kitchen of the cottage that Mac and Patsy had rented for the reunion?

"Hannah?" Mich.e.l.le called out. "There's nothing in the bedroom or bathroom."

"Nothing in the living room, either," Andrea added.

"Are you almost done?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

Hannah was silent. She hadn't heard the question. Her mind was racing, trying to put the pieces together. Was it possible Mac had stabbed Gus when Gus refused to repay the old loan that Marge had told her about? And had he lied about seeing Jack from the kitchen window because he wanted to throw suspicion on someone whose memory was failing, someone who couldn't defend himself?

"Hannah?" Mich.e.l.le called out again.

"What's wrong?" Andrea asked.

This time their voices broke through the busy workings of her mind, and Hannah whirled to see both of her sisters standing just inside the kitchen door.

"I've found the ice pick," she said. "It's in the tool drawer. And I think I know who killed Gus."

Chapter Thirty.

"Where are you, Hannah?" Mike answered on the first ring.

"Outside the pavilion with Andrea and Mich.e.l.le. I found the ice pick, Mike."

"Where?"

"In Mac and Patsy's cottage. And I think Mac killed Gus."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mike sighed. "But that doesn't make sense, Hannah. If Mac killed Gus with the ice pick you found, why would he keep it?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was afraid that the owner of the cottage would notice it was missing. And since Gus was killed with an ice pick, somebody like you would put two and two together and come up with him as the killer."

"Okay. It's circ.u.mstantial, and we don't even know if the ice pick you found was the murder weapon, but I can see why you're suspicious. Do you have anything else to point a finger at Mac?"

"Yes! Mac told me he looked out the kitchen window in the cottage where he's staying with Patsy, and he saw Jack Herman out for a walk right around the time Gus was murdered. And he was lying."

There was a long silence, and Hannah began to frown. "Mike? Did I lose you?"

"You didn't lose me. It's just that Mac told us the same thing. Why do you think he's lying?"

"Patsy told me Mac went out for a walk that night. He goes for one every night, doctor's orders. He couldn't have seen Jack through the cottage window. There's a big pine tree in the way. He saw Jack on the road, all right, but they were both out there. And all this time, I've been afraid that Jack killed Gus."

"Me, too," Mike said, "and there's no way I wanted to believe that."

"But you didn't bring him in for questioning," Hannah reminded him.

"No. I probably should have, but...why? We all know Jack's memory goes in and out. And...well...there's no real proof he did it."

"You're a good man, Mike," Hannah said, meaning every word of it.

"Thanks. But maybe I'm not. Maybe I just didn't think I could get anything useful out of questioning somebody with Alzheimer's."

"There's that, too," Hannah said, "but I prefer to think that you cut him some slack because you thought it was the right thing to do."

There was another silence, and then Mike cleared his throat. "You said you found the ice pick. Where was it exactly?"

"It's in the kitchen tool drawer."

"You didn't touch it, did you?"

"Of course not! I left it right where it was."

"Okay. Everything you told me is circ.u.mstantial, but it's the best we've got unless we actually find traces of blood on the ice pick. Do you think Patsy will testify that Mac went out for a walk?"

"I'm almost sure she will. She told me that Mac came to her and asked her to lie for him. He wanted her to say he was with her all night, but Patsy refused. She told Mac she wouldn't volunteer the information, but if you asked her directly, she wouldn't lie for him."

"Good for her! I'll be right out to pull Mac in for further questioning. He's definitely a person of interest, if not more. Where is he right now? Do you know?"

"He's watching the children's talent show, and Patsy's with him. Andrea and Mich.e.l.le saw them in line, waiting to get inside the pavilion."

"Good. Go on in and watch him for him, and don't say anything to anybody. I don't want him to know we're interested in him. I should be there in less than fifteen minutes to take him in for questioning."

"Okay. We'll go inside and watch him. What do you want us to do if he leaves?"

"Don't follow him. If he is the killer, it could be dangerous if he thinks anybody's on to him. Just let him go, and we'll find him later."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Keep an eye on his wife, too. If he thinks she might mention that walk he took, he could try to silence her."

Hannah gulped. "You mean he might...kill her?"

"That's exactly what I mean." Hannah heard an engine roar into life. "I've got to go, Hannah. I'm on my way, and I need to keep this line open."

Once Hannah hung up, she turned to her sisters and related what Mike had said. "He said he'll be here in fifteen minutes," she concluded.

"Let's go find Mac and Patsy," Andrea led the way to the door of the pavilion. "If we fan out, it'll be easier for us to see them in the audience. Lisa said they were making three aisles. There's one in the middle and one on either side."

"I'll take left," Mich.e.l.le said.

"And I'll take the middle and look on both sides," Andrea said. "It'll take me a little longer, but that way I can double check for both of you."

"That leaves me with the right," Hannah said. "We'll just walk down the aisles, turn around, and walk back. Then we'll get together right outside the door to see which one of us spotted them."

When they entered the pavilion, the Beeseman sisters were ending their five minutes of song with "Gary, Indiana" from The Music Man, a perfect choice since it was their hometown.

The next act started the moment the Beeseman sisters left the stage. It was a group of twelve girls with lighted batons, performing an act to a Sousa march. All eyes were on the stage to see who could twirl her baton the longest without dropping it, and it was the perfect time to canvas the audience without being noticed. Once her sisters had arrived at their starting points, Hannah motioned them forward.

Hannah's eyes scanned the rows as she moved slowly forward, down one row to the end, up to the row in front of it, and then all the way back to the aisle. Like the carriage on an old-fas.h.i.+oned typewriter, she wove her way to the front of the room, and then she started the return trip.

Where only the backs of heads had been visible on her way to the front of the room, Hannah could see actual faces on her return trip. She saw her mother and Carrie, Jon Walker and his wife, Earl Flensburg, and Marge's cousins from Florida, but she didn't spot Patsy or Mac.

Hannah finished first, and she ducked out the door to wait for her sisters. Mich.e.l.le came out next and she was shaking her head.

"You didn't spot them?" Hannah asked her.

"No, and there were no empty chairs, so they weren't in the bathrooms or anything like that."

"Good for you!" Hannah complimented her foresight. "Let's just hope that Andrea spotted them."

It seemed to take forever, but it probably wasn't more than a minute or two before Andrea came out.

"Anything?" Hannah asked her.

"No. I checked both sides, and they weren't there. I'm sure of it, Hannah."

"What now?" Hannah asked, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing into a full-blown panic. "You saw them in line."