Strawberry Shortcake Murder

Chapter Three

Bill was out in the garage, helping Doc Knight load Boyd Watson’s body onto a stretcher for the trip to the morgue. Doc Knight doubled as the town physician and the Winnetka County Coroner. It didn’t leave him much time for anything else, and he always bristled whenever anyone mentioned how doctors were supposed to have golf days.

Hannah was in the living room with Mike and Danielle, listening as he interviewed her. She’d twisted Mike’s arm for that privilege, insisting that she should be present. She was Danielle’s friend, and Danielle needed a friend right now.

“I watched the contest on television while I was taping it.” Danielle’s hands began to tremble, and she set her water glass down on the coffee table. “Then I switched to cable and started to watch a movie, but I fell asleep. The cold medicine I’m taking makes me sleepy, and I really wanted to go up to bed.”

Mike nodded. He was being very solicitous of Danielle, and Hannah was glad. “But you stayed on the couch?”

“Yes. Boyd expects me to wait up for him. I always do. If I don’t, he gets… upset. But I guess you know that.”

Hannah glanced at Mike, and he caught her eye, giving her a slight nod. They both knew what happened when Boyd was in a bad mood. The black eye Danielle was sporting was ample proof of that.

“When did he blacken your eye, Danielle?” Mike asked. His voice was tight, and Hannah could tell he was barely controlling himself. They’d discussed Danielle’s problem shortly after she had confided in Hannah, and Mike had admitted that he had no patience with men who battered their wives.

“It happened yesterday. Boyd came home from school for lunch and he got… upset with me.”

“Did you see a doctor?”

“No. I knew what to do. And it’s not as bad as it looks. It hardly hurts at all anymore.”

Mike gave Hannah a warning look, one that said Don’t interfere. Then he turned back to Danielle. “If someone gave me a black eye, I’d be pretty angry at them. Were you angry with Boyd?”

“No. I know how frustrated he gets, and he was really sorry afterward. He got me an ice pack and took care of me.”

Mike shot Hannah another warning glance, and she clamped her lips together. Boyd Watson had been a brute and a wife beater. And Danielle had refused to press charges against him, preferring to accept the abuse he dished out rather than making it public. Hannah knew that most battered wives were at a terrible disadvantage emotionally; they usually believed that they’d done something to deserve the abuse. Now that Boyd was dead, Danielle wouldn’t have to live in fear of her husband any longer. And while Hannah wouldn’t have wished such a violent and bloody death on anyone, she found she couldn’t summon up much grief for the man who’d beaten and terrorized her friend.

“Let’s get back to what happened tonight.” Mike’s voice was soft, inviting Danielle’s trust. “You said you fell asleep on the couch?”

“That’s right.”

“What time did you wake up?”

“I’m not sure. The movie was over, so it must have been after nine-thirty. I turned off the television and called out for Boyd, but he didn’t answer. I thought maybe he’d come home and gone up to bed. That’s why I went out to the garage to see if his car was there.”

Mike frowned slightly. “You didn’t go upstairs to see if he was there?”

“No, I was just too tired. I didn’t want to climb the stairs and then have to come down again. It was easier to check the garage.”

“Tell me exactly what you saw when you opened the garage door.”

“Well… it was dark, so I turned on the light over Boyd’s workbench. His car was there, so I figured he’d come home and gone up to bed. Then I noticed that the garage door was still open, so I closed it.”

“The garage door was open, but the light wasn’t on?”

Danielle shook her head. “It burned out yesterday. Boyd was going to replace it, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. And then I saw the hammer, and I knew that something was wrong.”

“Why?” Mike asked.

“Boyd’s very particular about his tools. They all have a place on the pegboard, and he’s really careful about putting them back after he uses them. That’s just the way he was brought up.”

“Do you ever use his tools?”

“Never.” Danielle looked surprised at the question. “He bought me a kit with my own tools for the house. I keep it in the kitchen drawer.”

Hannah nodded, imagining what Danielle’s punishment would have been if she’d used one of Boyd’s tools and hadn’t returned it.

“How about Boyd’s hammer? Did you touch it?”

“Yes. I knew I hadn’t used it, but I didn’t want Boyd to get upset when he saw that it wasn’t hanging up in the right place. He… he might have blamed me. So I picked it up and it was… sticky.” Danielle shivered slightly. “I looked down at my fingers and then I… I dropped it.”

“Did you realize that the hammer had blood on it?”

“I don’t remember. I guess I must have or I wouldn’t have dropped it. I walked over to his car and then… I saw him. Down there on the floor.”

“What did you do next?”

“I knelt and felt for a pulse. But there wasn’t any. And then I tried to give him CPR. He was still warm, and I thought maybe…” Danielle stifled a sob and drew a deep shaky breath. “But it didn’t work. I just sat there staring at him for a minute. I… I just couldn’t believe it! And then I got up and went to the kitchen to call Hannah.”

Hannah provided the answer before Mike could ask. “I looked at the clock when the phone rang. Danielle called me at ten. When she asked me to come over, I drove straight here, and it was ten-fifteen when I rang the bell.”

“Got it.” Mike wrote the time in his notebook and turned back to Danielle. “Is there anything else you can remember? A sound that woke you? A car that you heard in the alley?”

Danielle thought about it for a minute, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe something woke me up, but I don’t remember what it was.”

“There’s one other thing, Danielle.” Mike looked very sympathetic. “I know what your husband did to you, and I’m sure there were times when you were afraid of him. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Danielle admitted, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Did you ever strike back at Boyd after he’d hit you?”

“Oh, no!” Danielle looked alarmed at the suggestion. “It would have made things even worse. I knew that Boyd didn’t mean to hit me. He loved me, but he just couldn’t help himself.”

Mike slipped his arm around Danielle’s shoulder. “Maybe he did love you, but he also hurt you very badly. A lot of abused wives reach a point where they just can’t take it anymore. Some of them leave, but others find the courage to fight back. If your husband threatened you, and you picked up that hammer to defend yourself, you’d be perfectly justified.”

“I know,” Danielle swallowed hard, “but that’s not what happened. When I found Boyd in the garage, he was already dead. I know someone killed him, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t me!”

Danielle stifled a sob, and Mike handed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “Okay. I just wanted to make absolutely sure you understood that no one would blame you if you struck out at him to defend yourself. That’s all.”

Hannah felt sick as she added it all up in her head. Danielle’s prints were on the murder weapon, Boyd’s blood was all over her clothing, she’d admitted that Boyd had battered her at noon on Tuesday, and she had a black eye to prove it. Hannah knew that it wasn’t unusual for an abused wife to strike back hours, weeks, and even months after being injured. There were no witnesses to Boyd’s murder, at least not yet, and every shred of circumstantial evidence pointed to the fact that Danielle had snapped and bashed Boyd’s head in with his ball peen hammer.

“You… you believe me, don’t you?” Danielle asked, looking up at Mike.

Mike gave her a little hug before he stood up. “Yes, I do.”

Hannah gave a deep sigh of relief. Mike was one of the most honorable men she knew. He didn’t lie, and she was sure that he believed what Danielle had told him. But what about Sheriff Grant? This was an election year, and Coach Watson’s murder was what the Lake Eden Journal would call a high-profile case. If Sheriff Grant believed that Danielle was guilty, he might discourage his detectives from investigating further. She looked up at Mike and found him watching her. Had he guessed what was running through her mind? She had to talk to him, and the sooner, the better.

“This has been a terrible shock for you, Danielle.” Hannah moved over to take Mike’s place on the couch. “I think that you should try to rest.”

Danielle dabbed at her eyes with the sodden tissue. “I… I can’t. I have to… to call Boyd’s relatives and…”

“It’s too late to do anything tonight,” Hannah interrupted her. “I’ll help you with all that in the morning.”

Danielle seemed relieved as she sagged back against the cushions. “Thank you, Hannah, but I don’t think I can rest. Every time I shut my eyes, I see Boyd’s face with all that… that blood!”

“Don’t think about it.” Hannah knew her advice was useless, but she had to say something. Once someone said not to think about something, you couldn’t think about anything else. “I’ll go make you a cup of hot chocolate. That’ll make you feel better.”

“That’s nice of you, Hannah, but I don’t have any hot chocolate mix.”

“Do you have cocoa?”

“I… I think so. There should be some in one of the cupboards.”

“How about sugar? And milk?”

“The sugar’s in a canister, and there’s milk in the refrigerator.”

“Then I’ll make it from scratch. It’s better that way.”

“I… I’m not a very good cook. How do you make hot chocolate from scratch?”

Hannah smiled. At least she’d gotten Danielle’s mind off finding Boyd’s body. “I’ll show you sometime. Right now I want you to stretch out on the couch and try to relax. You have to keep up your strength.”

“All right.” Danielle’s voice was shaky, and her face was a sickly shade of gray. “Thank you, Hannah.”

Hannah unfolded the afghan that was draped over the back of the couch and tucked Danielle in. “Rest, Danielle. We’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Mike took Hannah’s cue and followed her out to the kitchen. He sat down in a chair and watched while she opened cupboard drawers and located the ingredients. Danielle hadn’t been overly modest when she’d admitted that she wasn’t a very good cook. Almost everything in her cupboards was a mix. There were instant potatoes, Hamburger and Tuna Helper, instant pudding, Minute Rice, scalloped potatoes in a box, and even instant coffee and tea.

“What was all that about?” Mike asked her.

Hannah looked up from the pan she was using to heat the milk. “What was what about?”

“The hot chocolate.”

“It’s simple.” Hannah used a wire whisk to stir the milk so it wouldn’t burn on the bottom of the saucepan. “Danielle’s got a terrible cold, and she probably hasn’t been eating right. The sugar’s pure carbohydrate, and she needs the calories. And the caffeine and endorphins in the chocolate will keep her from getting too depressed.”

“Not that. I mean, why did you want me to follow you into the kitchen?”

“Oh.” Hannah mixed the sugar and cocoa together in a bowl and poured in some of the hot milk. “I needed to talk to you alone, and it was a good excuse.”

“What about?”

“I’m worried about Danielle. She’s hanging on by her fingernails. You don’t have to drag her out to the station tonight, do you?”

Mike shook his head. “I’ve got what I need for now, and she’s too sick to answer any more questions.”

Hannah stirred the mixture in the bowl until the sugar melted and the cocoa turned into a paste. “I’d better stay with her. Her mother lives in Florida, and she doesn’t have any other family close by. She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

“Danielle won’t be here. I checked with Doc Knight, and he’s got room at the hospital. I’m going to move her there.”

Hannah added the chocolate paste to the heated milk in the saucepan and blended it with the whisk. Doc Knight had examined Danielle right after he’d arranged to have Boyd’s body transported to the morgue. “Does Doc think Danielle’s that sick?”

“No, but I don’t want her talking to anybody, and the hospital’s a good place for her. I’ll question her again tomorrow morning.”

Hannah turned to him in alarm, her hand stopping in mid-whisk. “Is Danielle a suspect?”

“The spouse is always a suspect.” Mike didn’t quite meet Hannah’s eyes. “You’d better stir that before it burns.”

As Hannah started to whisk again, she thought about what Mike had said. She needed more answers, but she preferred to get them in private, after Danielle had been settled in a room at the hospital. “Do you want me to drive Danielle to Lake Eden Memorial?”

“No, I’ll have Bill take her in the cruiser.”

Hannah turned to him in surprise. “In the back? Like a prisoner?”

“Of course not. Danielle’s not under arrest. I could call for an ambulance, but I think she’ll be more comfortable riding with Bill. I’m just following procedure, Hannah.”

Hannah poured the hot chocolate into the biggest mug she could find. “I’d better take this in so she can drink it before she leaves.”

“Good idea.” Bill should be back from searching the alley any minute now.”

Hannah stopped, turned back at the kitchen door. “Will you have time to drop in at my place after you finish up here?”

“It might be late.” Mike’s eyebrows quirked up, and he gave her a devilish grin. “Just what did you have in mind?”

“I want to pump you for information, of course.”

“Oh.” Mike’s eyebrows settled back down. “I’ll try to be there by one at the latest, but there’s not a whole lot I’ll be able to tell you. The investigation’s confidential.”

“That’s okay. I’ll stop by Lake Eden Liquor and pick up some beer for you. Cold Spring Export, right?”

“Right.”

Hannah picked up the mug and walked into the living room, hiding a rather smug smile. Mike would tell her what she needed to know so that she could help Danielle. He just didn’t realize it yet.

* * *

“What are you feeding him? Bricks?” Mike stared down at Moishe, who had just plunked down in his lap.

“A lot of kitty crunchies. He’s always hungry.” Hannah reached over to pick up her pet and move him to a pillow. “Is Danielle okay?”

Mike took a swallow of his beer. “She’s fine. Doc says it’s just a bad cold, but he’s keeping her under observation for a couple of days. He gave her a sedative so she cold sleep through the night.”

“A good night’s sleep is just what she needs.” Hannah took a small sip of her wine. She passed Mike the bag of hard onion-flavored pretzels she’d bought at Lake Eden Liquor, and asked, “Did you find any witnesses?”

“Not yet.”

“Was there anything in the alley?”

Mike shook his head and chomped down on a pretzel. “These are good.”

“They’re Bavarian.” Hannah took a deep breath and got to it. “Tell me the truth, Mike. It doesn’t look good for Danielle, does it?”

“Well… there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence against her.”

“Her prints on the murder weapon, Boyd’s blood on her clothing, and the black eye he gave her/”

“All that plus her lack of an alibi. She didn’t even talk to anyone on the phone until she called you. You heard me try to give her an out. If she admits that she killed him, she can plead self-defense. No jury in the world would convict her.”

“But that only applies if she killed him.” Hannah bit down on a pretzel. There was a reason they called them “hard” Pretzels. Perhaps she should mention them to Norman. If he gave his patients Bavarian pretzels for Christmas, it could promote return visits. “What if she didn’t kill him?”

“Then someone else did.” Mike stated the obvious.

“I thought you believed her when she told you that she was innocent.”

“I do believe her.” Mike chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I think she’s telling the truth… as she sees it. But it’s possible that she blocked it out and doesn’t remember.”

“Are you saying that Danielle could forget killing her own husband?”

“It’s possible, Hannah. She told us that she was sleepy, and she took some pretty strong cold medicine. She could have been woozy and disoriented, almost in a dream state.”

“No way.” Hannah shook her head. “Danielle was upset when she called me and asked me to come over, but she was perfectly lucid. And when I got there, what she said made sense.”

“Maybe.”

Mike didn’t sound convinced, and Hannah sighed deeply. “Let’s just assume for a minute that Danielle didn’t kill Boyd. You’re going to look for other suspects, aren’t you?”

“We’ll do a routine investigation. If nothing turns up, Sheriff Grant will want us to wrap this up quickly.”

“That figures.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “He won’t want an unsolved murder on the books in an election year. It’s much easier to say that Danielle did it, even if she didn’t. But Sheriff Grant can’t close the case if new evidence turns up can he?”

“No.” Mike began to frown. “Look, Hannah. I don’t want you to start nosing around and asking questions. Leave that to the qualified professionals.”

Mike was patronizing her, and Hannah knew it. She curbed the sharp retort she wanted to make and did her best to sound calm and reasonable. “But the qualified professionals aren’t going to do anything more than a routine investigation. You said that yourself. Danielle needs someone to prove that she’s innocent.”

“That’s easier said than done, Hannah.” Mike still sounded patronizing to Hannah’s ears. “I don’t want you to get involved in this. If Danielle didn’t kill Boyd, the real killer is still out there.”

“That’s right. So what?”

“What if you stumble across a clue? And what if the real killer suspects that you’re on his trail? You could wind up in real danger.” Mike reached over and took her hand. “You’re important to me, Hannah. You’re my best friend in Lake Eden, and I don’t’ know what I’d do if something happened to you. Promise me that you’ll stay out of it.”

Hannah was silent for a long moment. She didn’t want to lie to Mike, but she wasn’t going to stay out of it, not when Danielle needed her help. She had to think of some way to make Mike think she was going to follow his advice without actually promising that she would.

“Hannah?”

Hannah gave him what she hoped was a guileless smile. “You don’t have to worry, Mike. I’m not bucking for your job.”

“My job?” Mike began to grin. “Do you really think that you could handle it?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t take it on a bet. Think about your dress uniform.”

Mike gave her a look that said he thought she was losing it. “What’s wrong with it? The maroon shirt with the tan pants looks sharp.”

“It does on you. But with my hair?”

Mike stared at her, then he started to chuckle. “You’ve got a point. A maroon shirt and red hair don’t mix.”

“That’s right. You can have your job, Mike. I’d much rather bake cookies. At least I don’t have to worry about finding murder victims in my ovens. And speaking of ovens, Boyd brought Maryann to the bake-off. Did you find out what time he took her home?”

“Yeah. We went over there to tell her about her brother. I think that’s the only part of the job I really hate.”

“It can’t be easy, telling people that someone they love is dead.”

“It isn’t. Bill warned me to ask about the time before I gave her the bad news. It’s a real good thing we did it that way.”

“Why?”

“She got hysterical, and we had to take her to the hospital.”

“Oh-oh.” Hannah groaned. Maryann and Danielle had never gotten along. The fact that they were both at Lake Eden Memorial was a lot like stuffing a mouse and a cat in the same gunnysack, especially if Maryann suspected that Danielle had killed Boyd. “Tell me they’re not in adjoining rooms.”

“They’re not. Doc Knight put them on opposite ends of the hall. And just to make sure there’s no trouble, I posted a deputy outside Danielle’s door.”

“For her own safety? Or because it’s police procedure?”

“A little of both,” Mike admitted.

“That’s what I thought. What time did Boyd leave Maryann’s apartment?”

“Eight-twenty. She offered him coffee, but he told her he had to be home by eight-thirty because Danielle wasn’t feeling well.”

“If Boyd left Maryann’s place at eight-twenty, he must have been killed between eight-thirty and ten.”

“That’s right. Doc Knight did a liver temp, but he couldn’t narrow it down any more than that.”

“How does eh do a liver…?” Hannah stopped in mid-question. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. What happened with the neighbors? Did anyone see or hear anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“And you didn’t find anything in the alley?” Hannah asked.

“A lot of tire tracks, but all the neighbors use it. It’s impossible to tell which ones are fresh. And the only thing we found in the garage was the murder weapon and your cake carrier. You can have it back just as soon as the lab checks it for prints. Do you have any more of those pretzels? They’re really good.”

Hannah went to the kitchen to get the other bag and brought it back with a cold beer. “Here you go. These are garlic-flavored.”

“Great! I’m crazy about garlic.” Mike reached for the bag, but he didn’t open it. “You’re going to have some, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.” Hannah thought she knew which path his mind was taking, but she wanted to find out for sure. “Why?”

“Garlic’s strong, especially if the other person doesn’t eat any.”

“That only applies if you’re angling for an invitation to sleep with me.”

Mike threw back his head and laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Hannah. You always say exactly what you mean.”

Hannah wished that she could call back her words. She didn’t sleep around; she never had. Casual sex just didn’t work for her. She’d had one brief affair with a professor in college, and she’d loved him deeply. It had ended badly, and before she took that particular plunge again, she wanted to make sure that history wouldn’t repeat itself. “Why don’t we just chomp down those pretzels, have another drink, and get some sack time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“In our own beds,” Hannah corrected his false assumption.

“Oh,” Mike said, frowning a bit. “Okay Hannah, if that’s the way you want it.”

Hannah curbed her impulse to say more. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted either, but that’s the way it was going to be. Sleeping with the opposition was a no-no, and right now, Mike was the opposition.

When Mike left, thirty minutes later, Hannah was pleased with herself. She hadn’t lied to him, but she hadn’t promised not to nose around and investigate Boyd’s murder either.