Key Lime Pie Murder (13 page)

“Where was it kept?”

“In the bottom right-hand drawer of Miss Vincent’s desk. The drawer was locked, but the burglar pried it open.”

“Then he knew it was there?”

“That’s my assumption. Either that or he just got lucky. He didn’t bother trying to open the cash box. That was also locked. He just took it with him.”

Hannah shut her eyes and went over the information Mike had given her. One thing stood out. “You said Miss Vincent had yesterday’s receipts. Why didn’t she take them to the bank?”

“Their bank doesn’t have branches here in Minnesota. They usually deposit the funds with a wire transfer, but the secretary’s new and she didn’t know how to do it. The owner was supposed to walk her through it this afternoon, but something came up and he couldn’t get away.”

“What came up?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find out as soon as I talk to him.” Mike stopped speaking and stared at her. “Your eyes just opened wide and now you’re frowning. Why?”

“Just a thought. If I were you, I’d want to find out what came up to keep the owner from transferring the money. And then I’d want to know if whatever it was could have been done deliberately to delay him.”

“We’re on the same wavelength. I figure maybe somebody wanted to make sure the owner didn’t get that wire transfer done. And if I can find out who that someone is, chances are we’ve got our burglar.”

Hannah was silent for a moment, and then she thought of another question. “You’re sure the burglary took place between six and a quarter to seven?”

“We’re positive. What’s the matter? You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Widening your eyes and then frowning. What is it this time?”

“You said Miss Vincent left the office at six and got to her trailer at at six-thirty. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“And then you said that when she went back to the office to get her keys, she arrived at a quarter to seven.”

“Right again.”

“Well, that’s fifteen minutes faster for Miss Vincent’s return trip. So where did she stop on her way home?”

“Very good!” Mike reached over to pat her hands. “I should have known you’d pick up on that. Miss Vincent stopped right here at the food court for a Paul Bunyan burger. She had them bag it, and she carried it back to her trailer.”

“Okay.”

Mike scratched his head as he stared at Hannah. “Hold on. You just widened your eyes and frowned again. What’s wrong this time?”

“It’s the Paul Bunyan burger!”

“But I checked it out. They remember putting one in a takeout bag for her.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not Miss Vincent’s Paul Bunyan burger. I was talking about my Paul Bunyan burger. Lisa and Herb gave me one for Moishe, and I left it at the Lake Eden Historical Society booth.”

No sooner had the words left Hannah’s mouth than the lights began to flicker on and off. It was the five-minute warning, the signal to let fairgoers know that their evening of fun was drawing to a close and the fair was about to shut down for the night.

“You’re going to go back and get it?” Mike guessed, a pretty safe assumption since Hannah was now standing and she’d picked up her shoulder bag.

“I’d better see if it’s still there. If I don’t, Lisa and Herb will be very disappointed.”

Mike gave what sounded to Hannah like an exhausted sigh. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

Hannah thought about taking him up on his offer. She wasn’t relishing the idea of bucking traffic and heading into the midway when most people were heading out, and Mike could clear a path for her. But then she remembered that he was pulling a double shift. He really did look as if he could use a couple of minutes’ rest.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Okay, but you’d better hurry,” Mike said, yawning widely. “There’s a bench right outside the gate. I’ll wait for you there to make sure they don’t lock you in. Do you want me to take that bakery box with me?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Hannah reached out to scoop up the box with her Key Lime Pie. It was safer to take it with her. Mike was so tired he might cushion his head on the top of the box and fall asleep in the prizewinning pie.

Hannah felt a bit like a salmon swimming upstream as she headed for the Lake Eden Historical Society booth. It was never easy bucking a crowd. Everyone seemed to be streaming toward the exit in a giant wave. She doubted that the bag with Moishe’s Paul Bunyan burger was still where she’d left it, but she had to find out.

“Excuse me,” Hannah said, resisting the urge to elbow three high school boys walking with their girlfriends six abreast. But they didn’t even notice her, so Hannah stepped aside to let them past. This happened more times than she could count as she treaded water in the sea of humanity and darted forward against the surge of boisterous fairgoers whenever she saw an opening.

“Aren’t you leaving?” someone shouted out, and Hannah turned to see Carrie passing her.

“Yes, in a second. Did I leave…” Hannah’s voice trailed off. It was too late. Carrie had passed her in the opposite direction, and she couldn’t possibly hear Hannah’s question.

“’Bye, dear,” Delores hailed her. Hannah’s mother and her two companions, Bernie “No-No” Fulton and Wingo Jones, were being carried along on the tide of people heading for the turnstile at the exit. If there’d been any doubt in Hannah’s mind about the identity of the person who’d contacted the Triple A pitcher and invited him to visit the dunking booth, it was now erased.

“’Bye, Mother,” Hannah shouted back. No sense in asking Delores if her takeout burger bag was still at the booth. Her mother was already several booth-lengths away and there was no way Hannah could make herself heard over the din of the crowd.

Hannah considered her options. It was obvious that the Lake Eden Historical Society booth was closed since she’d seen both her mother and Carrie leaving. Finding the bag with Moishe’s burger was unlikely, but she’d come this far despite the aggravation of opposing human traffic, and she might as well finish her quest.

She made good progress for several more feet, and then things came to a standstill. There was no way she could paddle upstream any longer. Hannah accepted the inevitable and moved laterally, heading for a handy booth where she could wait out the rush.

The Tri-County Dairy booth beckoned, and Hannah flattened herself against the shuttered front. She found an anchor of sorts, a giant milk bottle carved from wood and painted white. She held on as the crowd surged past her, hoping that no one would bump into her and knock her from her spot. She’d wait until the foot traffic had thinned, and then she’d set out for the historical society booth again.

Over the next several minutes, Hannah called hello to at least two dozen people she knew and the lights flickered several more times. At last the crowd thinned out, and Hannah set off for her mother’s booth. It didn’t take long to get there, and she met only one or two people walking rapidly in the direction of the gate.

By the time Hannah arrived, panting slightly, the lights had flickered on and off again. She was too late. The wooden shutters that served as counters were raised and padlocked shut. Hannah walked around to the side where the dunking stool was located and gave a dejected sigh. These counters were also locked into place, tightly shuttering the booth for the night. She should have known the futility of coming all the way back to the booth. If her mother or Carrie had found the bag when they were closing, they would have thrown it away.

“Trashed,” Hannah muttered, wondering how she was going to explain this to Lisa and Herb. But then she realized what she’d said and looked quickly around for the nearest trash container. If no one had emptied the trash yet, Moishe could still be feasting on hamburger tonight.

A fifty-gallon drum painted red and labeled TRASH in big black letters stood only feet from the side of the booth. Hannah set her Key Lime Pie on the ground next to the trashcan, glad that she’d found a bakery box to put it in, and peeked inside the receptacle. There was a white bag right on top, and it certainly looked like the one she’d left on the counter.

Hannah sent up a silent plea for luck and good fortune, and then she opened the bag, hoping that it didn’t contain any gross leftovers. She was almost afraid to look, but she did. And then she grinned from ear to ear. There was Moishe’s Paul Bunyan burger, still neatly wrapped in waxed paper that was stamped with the green-and-white logo of the Burger Shack.

Hannah tucked the bag inside her shoulder bag and picked up the pie box again. She’d accomplished her mission, and now it was time to get back to the gate to meet Mike before he fell asleep on the bench and someone locked her in for the night.

As she walked, Hannah began to feel uneasy. Everyone else had left, and the only noise was the sound of her own footfalls. The thump of her rubber soles hitting the dirt was deafening in the surrounding silence, and she resisted the urge to tiptoe. There was something very unnerving about being alone on the midway at night.

She was just passing the Family Farms booth when everything went black. Hannah came to a standstill and reached out to steady herself against the mechanical bull. Rather than just a saddle and a mechanism that bucked and swiveled, this bull looked like a real Brahma bull and cost five dollars to ride.

For a moment Hannah just stood there gripping the bull’s ear, feeling ever more apprehensive and wondering how she was ever going to find her way to the gate in the darkness. There were occasional flashes of heat lightning way off in the distance, but that provided no real illumination. She could hear a low rumbling, barely audible. Thunder? Whatever it was, it added to Hannah’s growing apprehension.

She told herself not to panic. She’d just wait for her eyes to adjust and pick her way to Mike, lifting her feet high so she wouldn’t trip over any ropes or cables. She was about to set out when there was a hollow clunk, as if someone had thrown the lever on a transformer, and a long string of dim lights went on overhead.

If Hannah hadn’t been so nervous, she might have chided herself for borrowing trouble. Of course they had night-lights on the midway. It was a safety precaution, and it probably served to discourage kids from climbing the fence and sneaking in after hours.

Although the lighting was by no means bright, she could make out the rectangles of the shuttered booths and the looming, almost menacing shapes of the carnival rides. Hannah shivered even though the night was hot, and her skin felt slick with moisture. It wasn’t good being here alone. It wasn’t good at all.

As she made her halting way forward, Hannah kept to the center of the path, her eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Every bad horror movie she’d ever seen flashed through her mind, and she thought about what she might use for a weapon if someone, or something, emerged from the darkness. There was her shoulder bag. It was heavy enough to knock someone off balance, especially if she swung it in an arc. The Key Lime Pie she was carrying could be used to render someone temporarily blind. It was a terrible waste of a first-place-winning dessert, but if push came to shove, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. If she took it out of the box and shoved the sticky meringue directly in an assailant’s face, it would take him a minute or so to wipe it from his eyes. By that time, she’d be well on her way to the gate to alert Mike.

Hannah walked on, but her mind was in turmoil. The old adage against borrowing trouble was warring with the advice to be prepared. The Boy Scout motto won, hands down. She stopped at the next trash can she passed and removed the pie, tossing the bakery box on top of the refuse the evening’s fairgoers had left behind them.

Now she had a purse and a pie to use in her defense. Hannah gave a little sigh. Somehow that didn’t seem like much. For the very first time in her life, she wished that she were wearing a pair of Andrea’s stiletto-heeled shoes. Then she could slip one off and do real damage to anyone or anything that threatened her. Of course that was silly. If she’d been wearing a pair of her sister’s stilettos, she wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. There was no way she could walk in heels that high, much less fit into shoes that were four sizes too small for her.

She’d just passed the Tri-County Volunteer Fire Department’s Red Hot Ringtoss booth when she heard a noise that couldn’t be explained by the nonexistent wind or any small furry creature that made the fairgrounds its home. It was the sound of something heavy striking something composed of flesh and bone. Hannah wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. And her blood ran cold.

“Is someone there?” she called out before she’d had time to consider the wisdom of speaking. And then she did, and she wished she could call back her words. Now the person who’d struck the blow she’d heard knew that he wasn’t alone on the midway. And he also knew approximately how far away and in which direction she was.

Open mouth, insert foot, Hannah thought, but she didn’t stand still to think about it. She knew she had to get away fast, and that’s exactly what she proceeded to do. But as she scurried away, her brain wasn’t idle. She was almost certain the sound she’d heard had come from a booth across the path and around the corner, no more than three booths from where she’d been standing. If she remembered the layout of the midway correctly, that was where the shooting gallery was located.

But it hadn’t been a gunshot. Hannah was sure of that. She tried to forget about the heavy object striking flesh and bone and considered what other things might produce a sound like it. It could have been someone kicking a hollow rubber ball with considerable force. Or someone striking a ripe melon with a baseball bat. Or a sledge hammer hitting…Hannah gave a little shiver. She didn’t want to think about this now. Whatever it was, it was ominous. Right now she had to get as far away from the shooting gallery as possible!

Heart pounding hard and her senses on full alert, Hannah scuttled down the line of booths, keeping to the shadows and doing her best to move quickly, carefully, and silently. One misstep and he’d know where she was. She’d just reached the end of the row of booths when she heard a second thunk. Whoever it was hadn’t moved, and that meant he hadn’t heard her. Hannah took advantage of the moment to dart around the corner, putting even more distance between them.