Key Lime Pie Murder (14 page)

She was at the side of the Strong Man booth, where fairgoers could win a Strong Man badge if they pounded a mallet onto a metal bed with enough force to make a ball scoot all the way up the vertical shaft to ring the bell at the top. Hannah took refuge behind several bales of hay placed there as a makeshift barrier to keep observers from getting too close to the prospective Strong Man and the mallet.

All was silent, perfectly silent. Hannah resisted the urge to slap at a mosquito that landed on her cheek and remained motionless. She crouched there for long minutes that seemed like hours, wondering if whatever or whoever she’d heard could hear her breathing or the rapid beating of her heart.

Was it safe to move yet? Hannah wasn’t sure, so she didn’t. Instead she swiveled her head slowly, examining her surroundings and committing every shape and shadow to memory. Mike had taught her that trick not long after they’d first met. He said cops on a stakeout got tired after a while and thought they saw things that weren’t there. He examined everything at the start so that his mind would sound an internal alarm if anything in his visual pattern changed.

As Hannah huddled there, trying to make as small a configuration as possible, her mind spun through the possibilities. Someone was here on the deserted midway with her. The noise she’d heard proved that. She didn’t think it was another late fairgoer rushing toward the exit and tripping over a rope or a stake. If that had happened, she would have heard groaning or cries for help. She supposed it could have been a carnival worker locking up a little late or coming back to secure something or other he’d forgotten. But if it had been a carnival worker, he would have answered her when she called out. This person was up to no good. His silence proved that.

Hannah drew her breath in sharply. The Strong Man mallet was gone. When she’d walked past the booth earlier in the day, it had been on a chain next to the vertical shaft. The chain was still there. She could see it on the ground, glistening slightly in the dim glow from the string of lights. Had they locked the mallet inside the booth for the night? Or had someone taken it, used it to hit someone else, and begun the process of bringing it back so that no one would know…

And he was here! And it was too late to run! Hannah did what any strong, courageous, modern Minnesota-born woman might have done in the same circumstance. She shut her eyes and attempted to become one with the hay.

Of course it didn’t work. There was no way she was going to huddle here waiting for him to find her and whack her with the mallet, too. Not only that, if she did escape his notice, she wanted to be able to give the authorities a good description.

Hannah opened her eyes, inched toward the side of the hay bale, and risked a peek. But the light was too dim. All she saw was a shadowy figure bending over the chain to reattach the mallet. She pulled her head back and listened for the sound of footfalls coming her way. She was almost positive that he hadn’t spotted her, not unless he was a sideshow attraction and he had eyes in the back of his head. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and she readied the pie for action.

Long moments passed as she listened intently, alert for the slightest sound. She imagined that her ears swiveled independently like little satellite dishes, the way Moishe’s ears did when he heard a mouse in the walls. The hair at the base of her neck prickled in apprehension, and she made her breathing shallow and almost inaudible. Except for the far-off sound of a dog barking in a neighboring farmyard, the muted swoosh of cars on the highway, and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, all was deathly quiet.

And then she heard it. He was moving again. She held the Key Lime Pie in a death grip, ready to hurl it at the slightest provocation, but the sound grew fainter with each passing heartbeat. He was moving away from her, running away from her hiding place. He hadn’t seen her! She was safe!

But where had he gone? The moment Hannah thought of it, she stood up and moved to the front of the booth. Her eyes scanned the midway for movement and found none. Had she been too slow? But then she spotted him disappearing around the side of the carousel.

It was safe for her to go now, and Hannah knew what she should do. She should head straight for the gate where Mike was waiting for her. She should tell him what had happened, and he could take over from here on out. He’d hammered that point home often enough. He was the detective, and she was not. The detective was an expert with credentials, and the nondetective should defer to the detective. If she thought something was wrong, she should tell Mike and he would take care of it. Her caution should win out over her curiosity.

Hannah leaned against the booth to let her breathing return to normal and her heartbeats slow to a reasonable rate. The moment she told Mike, he’d turn on the bright lights and investigate. But what if the sounds she’d heard had been perfectly innocent? What if everything was normal and nothing at all was wrong? She’d look like a first-class fool in front of a man she admired and could possibly even love.

There was only one thing to do. Perhaps it was the wrong thing, but that had never stopped her before. Hannah straightened up, stretched to relieve her cramped muscles, and headed off toward the shooting gallery. She’d check it out first, before she raised the alarm. And if she was right and something was wrong, she’d head for the gate and tell Mike immediately.

The sounds seemed magnified as Hannah headed down the row of booths. A slight breeze picked up, and she almost jumped out of her skin as the plastic flags fluttered over the face painting booth. They sounded as loud as the flock of crows that used to land in her grandfather’s cornfield, the ones her Grandma Ingrid refused to chase off because she was partial to crows. Hannah’s every instinct told her she was heading into trouble and she was likely to discover something she didn’t want to find. She knew she should turn tail and run for Mike, but instead she forged ahead, each footstep deliberate and even, drawing her inevitably closer to the shooting gallery. She was like Moishe, who still occasionally pushed the cold water lever in the shower, even though he’d gotten drenched several times in the past.

When she arrived at the shooting gallery, Hannah took a deep breath. She was convinced it would be either or. Either she’d find something horrible, or she’d find nothing at all. In the dim light from the single string of lights high overhead, the teddy bear prizes lined up in rows inside the glass front of the booth seemed to be staring at a point just around the corner. Hannah rounded the corner, stopped short, and felt herself assume the same glassy-eyed stare. Someone was sprawled out in the dirt. It was a woman. Hannah could tell because she was wearing a dress. And she was perfectly motionless.

Hannah’s mind spun. This was the time to go after Mike, but of course she couldn’t. What if this poor woman was injured and in need of immediate help? She knew CPR. She could even fashion a tourniquet if she absolutely had to.

Her need to help another human being in trouble drew her forward. The woman was facedown in the dirt, and Hannah was about to reach for her wrist to feel for a pulse when she saw the back of her head. This caused her to step back without taking her pulse or touching her. No aid she could give would make a particle of difference. This woman was quite dead, and Hannah hoped that it had been quick. Blunt force trauma didn’t make for a kind demise.

The woman’s skirt was pulled up a bit in back, a result of the way she’d fallen, and Hannah reached out to tug it down. It wouldn’t make any difference to her now, but there should be dignity in death. And once she’d fixed the woman’s skirt and straightened up again, Hannah had an awful realization.

“No!” Hannah gulped. She took one halting step closer and the pie dropped from her nerveless fingers. She’d seen and admired this dress before, no more than an hour ago!

Hannah stared down at the bits of meringue and Key Lime Pie filling that were scattered on the ground. She couldn’t just stand here. She had to get moving and go after Mike. He needed to know about this.

“Hannah?”

Mike’s voice rang out loud and clear, as if she had summoned him. It was a coincidence, a wonderful coincidence. And if she could only find her voice, she could answer him.

“Where are you, Hannah?”

“Here,” Hannah answered, finding her voice at last. Of course her answer wouldn’t do him much good. Here could mean anywhere. Her one-word answer wasn’t descriptive enough.

“Where’s here?” Mike asked, and his voice sounded closer.

Hannah had the insane urge to tell him he was getting warmer. It was almost as if they were playing her favorite childhood game, the one where someone leaves the room, the group hides something, the person comes back in, and the group directs them to the hidden object by telling them whether they’re warmer or colder.

But this is no game, Hannah’s mind told her. It’s all too real, and you have to answer him. She took a deep breath and did what her mind had suggested. “I’m around the side of the shooting gallery,” she said.

“You sound weird. What’s the matter?”

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but she was too busy wondering how he could run and ask questions at the same time. He didn’t even sound winded! She certainly couldn’t do it, but then she was at least twenty pounds overweight, and she’d been about to add to that total by ordering a deep-fried, cookie-battered Milky Way until he’d caught her standing in front of the booth.

“Hannah? I asked you what was the matter?”

Hannah sighed. He’d be here any second and then he could see for himself. But he’d asked and his question deserved an answer. “Dead,” she said.

“Someone’s dead?” Mike asked, rounding the corner with the speed of an Olympic hopeful. “Who?”

“Willa Sunquist.” Hannah identified the victim for him before her legs gave way and she sank down to the ground to stare back at the glass-eyed teddy bears.

The phrase through a glass darkly floated in her mind. Nothing seemed quite real, not even the staring teddy bears or Willa’s body lying crumpled only a few feet away. Hannah had the bizarre feeling that she was acting in a movie with no director, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

“Hannah?” Mike’s face loomed large, like a pale moon that floated over her. He must be bending down to talk to her. And that brought up a new thought. Why was she sitting on the ground?

“Let me help you up. Can you stand?”

Hannah considered that for long moments. Could she stand? She really wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t know until she tried, so she held out her hands and let Mike pull her to her feet.

“Yes,” she answered, when she was actually standing.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I can stand. But I don’t know how long.”

“You’re in shock,” Mike said, tipping up her chin and shining his flashlight into her eyes.

“Oh. That explains the movie then.”

Mike raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything. He just half-carried her over to one of the hay bales and pushed her into a sitting position. Then he stacked up two bales on the other side of her and three behind her so that she couldn’t topple off his prickly makeshift chair.

“Nice,” Hannah said, wondering how much longer she could have stayed on her feet. Her legs were trembling, and she felt a little dizzy. “It’s better than the one-chair-fits-all in the secretary’s office.”

Mike made a little whooshing sound between his teeth and shook his head. “Just stay right there while I make some calls.”

Hannah felt a wave of panic that started in her trembling legs and rose all the way up to her throat. She swallowed hard with a little gulp and tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“Never. I’ve got my cell phone. Just try to relax and let me get the crime scene team over here.”

Hannah nodded. Or at least she thought she nodded. She didn’t seem to be able to completely control her own body. Her legs were still trembling even though she willed them to be still, and she felt terribly cold, so cold that her teeth were chattering. This was probably why each squad car was equipped with a blanket in the trunk. Hannah wished Mike would take his out and cover Willa. Of course he couldn’t do that, not until the crime scene team was through. And his squad car wasn’t here anyway. It was out in the parking lot.

“Here,” Mike said, shrugging out of his sheriff’s windbreaker and draping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Hannah said gratefully. The jacket was very comforting. It was lined with flannel and it was warm. There was also the fact that it belonged to Mike, and that made her feel warm all over. She pulled it closer around her and glanced down. The Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department had adopted the Minnesota state colors, maroon and gold. Mike’s windbreaker was no exception. It was maroon, only one shade darker than Reverend Knudson’s pickled beets. Hannah imagined how Mike’s jacket would look teamed with her red hair, and she started shivering again. “Don’t look at me. Maroon’s not my best color.”

Mike gave a startled bark of laughter, and then he turned back to the phone again. Hannah half-listened as he contacted Doc Knight, the county coroner, and Andrea’s husband, Bill, the Winnetka County Sheriff. She was just thinking about Delores and how upset she’d be that her eldest daughter had found another murder victim, when what Mike was saying into the receiver registered in her mind.

“Okay, Norman. Thanks a lot. I’ll tell them to let you in.”

Norman? In? Hannah wondered what all that was about. “Did you call Norman in to take crime scene photos?” she asked.

“No, I called him in to take you home. I don’t want you driving in your condition.”

“What condition?” Hannah was genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“I know that, but you’re still in shock and I don’t want to take the chance you’ll get into an accident on the way home.”

“But I’m perfectly capable of driving. And since I’ve got a valid license and I’m not under the influence of any substance that would negatively affect my driving ability, you can’t stop me…can you?”