Strawberry Shortcake Murder

Chapter Eleven

“She doesn’t know we’re here,” Hannah whispered, pushing aside the long red skirt that was brushing up against her face.

“How do you know that?”

“If Vera thought we were burglars, she would have called the sheriff’s station from downstairs.”

Andrea was silent for a moment, then whispered back, “You’re right. There’s now way a woman Mother’s age would confront a burglar herself.”

Hannah grinned in the dim light that filtered in from the far end of Lucy’s closet where a small window had been installed. Vera Olsen claimed to be fifty, but Hannah had seen her picture in the old 1957 Jordan High yearbook she’d paged through at the school library. Unless Vera had taken a decade to complete her senior year, she was a lot closer to sixty than fifty. But if Vera chose to lie about her age, Hannah wasn’t about to bust her for it.

Lucy’s closet door was made of knotty pine, and Hannah poked Andrea and motioned toward a handy knothole. She found another for herself, and both sisters peered out to see what Vera would do. The door next to Lucy’s bed opened and Vera stepped in with a smile on her face. She wouldn’t be smiling if she thought that she was about to confront a burglar, and Hannah knew they were safe, at least for the present.

Vera crossed the floor and headed straight for Lucy’s computer, which was sitting on a table just opposite the closet. She flicked on the switch, fired up the monitor, and sat down in Lucy’s chair with her back toward them.

Andrea nudged Hannah. She was wearing a puzzled expression, and Hannah answered with a shrug. Then Hannah pointed to her eye and Andrea nodded her response. Their dialogue was complete without words.

What is she doing, Hannah?

I don’t know. We’ll have to watch and see.

Okay.

Vera hummed a little tune as the computer went through its warm-up. Since the room was narrow and Lucy’s seventeen-inch monitor was sitting on top of the CPU, Hannah and Andrea could see the screen perfectly.

Once the warm-up was complete, Vera used Lucy’s mouse to click on the Internet provider icon. There was the sound of a dial tone and the number was dialed automatically with a series of musical beeps. There was a burst of static and another few beeps as Vera was connected, and then a computer-generated voice said, “Welcome Hot Stuff. You’ve got mail.”

Andrea slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Hannah swallowed hard. The thought of Vera as “Hot Stuff” was enough to make both of them quake with silent laughter. Vera clicked on the mail icon and a message appeared on the screen. It was in large block letters and the two sisters could barely contain their mirth as they read it.

HELLO HOT STUFF—YOU ASKED FOR A PICTURE. HERE IT IS. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK DOWNLOAD. HOW ABOUT ONE FROM YOU? I’LL BE CALLING YOU TONIGHT TO HEAR YOUR SWEET VOICE OVER THE PHONE. LOVE YOU BABY, SILVER WOLF.

As they watched, Vera downloaded the picture and a photo of a man with silver hair appeared on the screen. He was smiling at the camera and waving from the deck of an expensive-looking sailboat. Vera turned on Lucy’s color printer and printed it out, snatching it from the tray with a smile. Then she hit the button to reply and typed in a message.

I’LL SEND YOU MY PICTURE TOMORROW. I HAVE TO FIND JUST THE RIGHT ONE. I PROMISE I’LL BE WAITING BY THE PHONE FOR YOUR CALL. LOVE YOU TOO, HOT STUFF.

Hannah didn’t risk glancing at Andrea for fear she’d lose it. Vera Olsen, a woman she hadn’t even known was computer literate, was carrying on an online romance.

Once Vera had deleted her personal message and shut down Lucy’s system, she walked across the floor with a spring in her step and Silver Wolf’s picture in her hand. She opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind her with a click.

Neither Hannah nor Andrea said a word as they listened to Vera’s receding footsteps. When they were certain that she’d gone back downstairs, Hannah nudged Andrea. They emerged from the closet, glanced at each other, and promptly burst into a volley of laughter.

“Do you think Vera’s really going to send Silver Wolf her picture?” Andrea asked.

“Why not? She looks good for her age.”

“She’d look even better if she got her roots touched up.”

“Maybe she will.” Hannah chuckled. Leave it to Andrea to notice something like that. “Come on. It’s only seven thirty-five, but why take chances? Let’s grab the evidence and get out of here.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Won’t Lucy notice that it’s missing?”

“Of course she will, but she won’t know who took it. And she can’t very well complain that it’s been stolen.”

Andrea started to grin. “I guess not. She’d have to explain how she got it in the first place. How about the money? Are you taking that, too?”

“Absolutely. It doesn’t belong to Lucy. I’m going to return it to the contestant’s husband and give him a lecture about trying to bribe a judge.”

Andrea found a stack of large manila envelopes next to Lucy’s computer and handed one to Hannah. “Put everything in here, and I’ll stuff it under my parka.”

“Good idea.” Hannah pulled out the drawer, released the catch on the false back, and retrieved the evidence. She dropped it into the envelope and stuck her hand back into the compartment to make certain she hadn’t missed anything. “Here’s a roll of exposed film. I’d better take that, too. Norman can develop it for us.”

Andrea pointed toward several other rolls of film that were scattered on Lucy’s desktop. “There’s more film here. Do you want to take it?”

“No. If it were important, Lucy wouldn’t have left it out. The roll she hid in her secret compartment is different. It could be evidence that she didn’t have time to develop.”

“Do you want me to check around to make sure we didn’t leave anything?” Andrea offered.

“Yes. Check the kitchen and the bathroom, and I’ll look around in here.”

Hannah had just concluded that they’d left no telltale traces when Lucy’s phone rang. Hannah glanced at her watch and frowned. It was only seven-forty, and Norman was supposed to keep Lucy in his dental chair until eight.

“Is it Norman?” Andrea appeared in the doorway looking concerned.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait for her answering machine to pick up.”

The phone rang a second time, and then a third. Lucy’s machine kicked in before the fourth ring and they listened to her outgoing message. This is Lucy Richards, feature journalist. Leave a number and I’ll get back to you.

Hannah rolled her eyes at the ceiling. The closest Lucy ever got to journalism was writing a description of a wedding dress.

Lucy? Where are, Lucy? Hannah’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice on the speaker. It was Norman, and he sounded nervous. I came in at seven to do the impression for your caps, and you’re over thirty minutes late. I can’t hold any more time for you. You’ll have to call me to reschedule.

The answering machine clicked off, and Hannah met Andrea’s startled gaze. “Come on, Andrea. It’s time to run for the hills.

* * *

Hannah’s heart was still thudding as they walked into the Rhodes Dental Clinic. They’d left Lucy’s apartment on the fly, and only luck had kept them from running into her.

Norman slid back the panel just as soon as he heard the front door open, and he looked very relieved to see them. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go over to Lucy’s! She never showed up for her appointment, and she didn’t call to cancel.”

“We did go.” Hannah was still a little miffed that Norman hadn’t called to warn them. “We were just leaving when you called. Why didn’t you let us know earlier?”

“I tried to. At first, I thought she was just running late, but at ten after seven, I called Andrea’s cell phone.” Norman turned to Andrea. “You didn’t answer, and I called at least a dozen times.”

Andrea sighed. “I left it in Hannah’s truck. I didn’t want it to ring while we were breaking in. I thought maybe Vera might hear it.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Hannah reassured her. And then she reached into her back pocket and handed Norman the envelope from the Seattle Police Department. “I think this belongs to you?”

Norman’s mouth dropped open as he stared down at the envelope. “You found it!”

“That and a lot of other stuff.” Andrea reached inside her parka and pulled out the manila envelope. “Lucy had five victims that we know about, and there may be more.”

“More?”

“That’s right.” Hannah opened the envelope and drew out the canister of film. “We found everything in a secret compartment in her rolltop desk, and this roll of film was there, too. It’s got to be more evidence, or she wouldn’t have hidden it. Can you develop it for us right away?”

Norman glanced down at his appointment book and shook his head. “I’d like to help, but Mrs. Haversham is coming in at eight-thirty. There’s no way I can run back home and develop it in less than forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll take care of Jill Haversham for you,” Andrea offered. “I’ll just tell her that you had an emergency and ask her to reschedule. And then I’ll take her over to the café and treat her to breakfast for being so cooperative. She doesn’t get out that much, and she’ll love it.”

Hannah turned to her sister in surprise. Andrea wasn’t usually this generous with her time. “Does this have anything to do with that rental duplex she owns over on Maple Street?”

“Well… actually it does.” Andrea’s face turned slightly pink. “I’ve been meaning to talk to her about it anyway. I’ve got a buyer that’s interested, and she could make a nice profit.”

Hannah grinned. Her sister was as tenacious as a pup with a bone when it came to selling real estate. Andrea had been trying to get Jill Haversham to sell her duplex for at least a year, and she wouldn’t quit until she got the listing.

“If you want to take care of Mrs. Haversham, that’s fine with me,” Norman agreed. “I don’t have another appointment until ten, and that’ll give us plenty of time. Come on, Hannah. Bring that film, and let’s go over to my darkroom to see what you’ve got.”

* * *

“Your mother acted really surprised to see me.” Hannah stepped into the large walk-in closet that Norman had turned into a darkroom. “And I’m not sure she approved when you told her that we were going upstairs to your room.”

Norman laughed. “That was a mistake on my part. I should have said that we were going upstairs to develop a roll of film. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Mrs. Beeseman hadn’t been visiting. Mother would never gossip about you, but I’m not so sure about Mrs. Beeseman.”

“I am. Mrs. Beeseman will tell everyone within a five-mile radius and then some.”

Norman gazed at her curiously as Hannah handed him the roll of film. “You don’t seem too upset about that.”

“I’m not. Anyone who knows me won’t believe it. And anyone who doesn’t know me doesn’t matter.”

“That’s a good attitude.” Norman held the film canister up to the light. “It’s black-and-white. It’s a good thing I’ve got a complete setup. I started out in black-and-white because I liked the contrast. It was at least ten years before I added color. Almost everyone uses it now.”

“Then it’s unusual that Lucy used black-and-white?”

“Not really. She works for Rod, and he doesn’t print color very often. It’s just too expensive. Lucy probably loaded her camera with black-and-white so that she could develop it in Rod’s darkroom. He does his own black-and-white at the office, but he sends all his color work out.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Lucy wouldn’t want to send any incriminating film out to be developed.”

“Sit over there, Hannah.” Norman pointed to a stool in the corner. “I’ll have to go to total darkness until I have this film in the tank.”

Hannah headed for the stool and sat down. She was interested because she’d never been in a darkroom before. “How can you see what you’re doing if it’s totally dark?”

“I can’t. But I’ve done it so many times before, my fingers know the moves. A lot of photographers use a pouch, but I don’t like them. They make my hands sweat. Are you ready for me to turn out the light?”

“I’m ready.” Hannah reached out and grasped the edge of the long troughlike sink. She didn’t want to lose her balance and fall off the stool when the lights went out.

Norman clicked off the lights, and Hannah glanced around. She knew it was broad daylight, but not even one tiny crack of light penetrated Norman’s darkroom. The complete darkness made her feel a bit off-balance, and she was glad that she’d thought to grip the edge of the sink.

Sounds seemed to be magnified in the darkness. Hannah heard a pop and figured that Norman must have taken the cap off the film canister. There was a crinkling noise that was followed by a shushing sound, as if he were unwinding something. She felt a bit disoriented, now that she could no longer judge the dimensions of the room by sight. She reminded herself that this must be how blind people felt and gave thanks that she wasn’t sightless.

Hannah heard something clink against metal, perhaps the side of the developing tank. That was followed by a clank that reminded her of a solid metal lid being placed on a saucepot, and then a white light filled the room.

“It’s only a hundred watts, but it seems bright, doesn’t it?”

“That must be because our pupils are dilated. What do you have to do next?”

“Pour in the developer and agitate it gently for two to three minutes. Then I’ll pour out the developer and put in the stop bath.”

“Do you have to turn the lights out again?”

“No, the can has a light trap so I can pour liquids in and out.”

Hannah watched as Norman poured in the developer. She could smell it, and it had a very pungent odor. He swished it around in the metal canister very gently until his timer went off. Then he poured out the liquid and added some from a different bottle.

“Is that the stop bath?” Hannah asked.

“That’s right.” Norman swished it around in the tank for a few seconds, then dumped out the stop bath. “Now I have to add the fixer.”

Hannah listened as the timer ticked down. She couldn’t see the dial from where she was sitting, but when it dinged, she judged that it had taken three or four minutes. “What next?”

“I’m going to open the tank and wash the negatives for five to ten minutes. Then I’ll photo flo them and put them in the dryer.”

“The dryer?” Hannah asked. “That’s not what I’m thinking, is it?”

“No, it’s a negative dryer.”

“And then we’ll have pictures?”

“Not yet. We’ll have dry strips of negatives to put under the enlarger to make prints. You’ll like that part, Hannah. When the prints come up, it’s almost magical.”

“But how can you see them if it’s dark?”

“It won’t be dark. We’ll use the safe light for printing. It’s kind of orange, and it’s dim, but you’ll be able to see.”

“This is really interesting, Norman. I kind of wish I’d gotten interested in photography. Can you turn on the safe light so I can see what it looks like?”

“Sure.”

Norman hit a switch, and the bright light in the room clicked off. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then Hannah became aware of a dim orange glow. It reminded her of sitting in front of a campfire, the one summer she’d gone to camp. She’d hated the cots, the food, and the counselors. She’d never been fond of organized activities, where everyone had to take part and pretend that they were having fun. But the campfires had been wonderful, a glowing circle of light with the dark woods beyond.

“Do you want to learn?”

Norman’s question jolted Hannah from memories of ice-cold lakes, mosquito bites, and hot dogs that were both raw and incinerated, a combination that could only be achieved over a campfire. “Learn what?”

“Photography. I could teach you.”

Hannah considered it for a minute. “Yes, I’d like that. But don’t forget that we have to design our dream house, too.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t mention that to Mother this morning,” Norman said with a teasing grin, “or Mrs. Beeseman would probably wear out her phone.”