Shots in the Dark (30 page)

But then Cora took on the role of the cavalry. “Tad couldn't have done it, either,” she said. “He was here with us, upstairs in the Capone Club room, at the time Lewis was killed.”

“That's right!” Joe said, slapping his knee and sounding excited.

There was a collective sigh of relief around the table, and I could sense a lifting of the oppressive melancholy that hung over the group.

“Okay,” Duncan said. “So Tad is in the clear, at least in Lewis's death, but we still have the other issues at hand. And I think Mal may have been on the right track. Suzanne Collier may well be our suspect. In fact, given all the stuff that Cora has dug up, I'm inclined to think she is. But she didn't do it alone. I think she had an accomplice.”

This made perfect sense to me. “Of course,” I said. “With her money, it would be easy to hire someone to do her dirty work, or at least some of it.”

Frank leaned forward, his eyes big. “That would be the smart way to do it,” he said. “Either hire someone or find someone with a motive that meshes with hers. If they split the nastiness between them but connect all the murders with the letters, it gives both parties alibis for at least some of the murders. Kind of like that movie
Strangers on a Train
.”

Mal shot Duncan a look. Based on the expression on their faces, I knew they were both thinking the same thing, and whatever it was, it didn't bode well.

“What?” I said, staring down the two of them. “What are you two thinking?”

Neither of them answered at first, but after Mal stared Duncan down for several seconds, I saw Duncan's shoulders sag. He gave Mal an almost imperceptible nod.

Mal looked at me, his expression grim. “Duncan and I have discussed these letters and the lack of any usable evidence to go with them. I think we have to consider the possibility that whoever is involved has some solid knowledge of forensics and police procedures. Would Suzanne Collier have that kind of knowledge?”

Looks were exchanged, and after a few seconds of silence, Cora said, “I don't know.”

My thoughts immediately leapt to Duncan's partner, Jimmy, but that was water I had to tread carefully.

“Anyone who participates in the Capone Club will have that kind of knowledge,” Mal noted. There were several solemn nods around the table.

“There's one thing we're forgetting,” I said. “I can buy a certain amount of coincidence, but there seems to be enough connections to Suzanne Collier for me to believe she's involved in some way. If we assume her motive is to disband the Capone Club so Tad doesn't spend so much time here—a motive that sounds a bit flimsy to me, but we can talk more about that later—then why target Duncan in the letters? Why allow the Capone Club to continue to go on and target me and Duncan?”

“Well, the two of you are the heart of the Capone Club,” Cora said. “Eliminate the two of you from the mix and the club will likely disband, particularly if several members end up dead.”

My mind was reeling with the possibilities, and I felt a stab of anger—literally, as it manifested itself as a sharp pain in my side—that our holiday had been tainted with these morbid thoughts.

“Enough,” I said, determined to shift the mood to a lighter topic. “Let's table the discussion for now and come back to it at a later date. I want to focus on the holiday. Who wants to give me a hand in the kitchen?”

An hour later we were all sitting around our pushed-together tables, stuffed, sated, and content.

“Anyone want coffee?” I asked.

There were some sleepy-eyed nods from the group, so I got up and went behind the bar to start a pot brewing. Once I got it going, I stood a moment and watched the others laughing, talking, and enjoying themselves, and it made me smile. It was an odd, misfit group of friends I had, this substitute family of mine, and given that I'd always felt like a bit of a misfit myself, I found it apropos. Watching them, I prayed that no harm would come to any of them in this cruel game I was forced to play with the letter writer.

I felt fiercely protective of all of them suddenly, and this imbued me with a new sense of determination. Somehow I had to beat this letter writer. I was going to win this game, no matter what it took. I imagined myself in a horse race, riding a white stallion who was surging ahead from the back of the pack. I saw myself overtake a ghostly image riding a black beast of a horse, which snorted and stomped in anger as I crossed the finish line a nose ahead of it. And then I envisioned my friends, my makeshift family, running to my side and congratulating me, showering me with flowers and a giant first-place ribbon.

Just like that, I figured out part of the meaning behind the key that was the latest clue.

“Cora,” I said, painfully aware that I was about to violate my own edict to stay away from the grim topic of the letter writer, “do me a favor and fire up your laptop.”

She did so as the others all watched, curiosity stamped on their faces. Something in my voice must have told them that the chase was back on.

“Ready,” Cora said.

“See what you can find out about the Pabst Mansion and any connections Suzanne Collier might have to it.”

Cora stared at me curiously for a moment before smiling. “Of course!” she said, starting to tap at her keys.

The others were staring at me with confusion, so I explained. “That number one sign on the key and the beer on the paper. I think it means Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

Since both Duncan and Mal were relatively new to the city and might not know the history, Cora summarized her findings even as she kept searching. “The Pabst Mansion served as home to Captain Frederick Pabst—the founder of the Pabst Brewing Company—and his family back at the turn of the twentieth century. The opulent structure later passed into the hands of the Archdiocese of Milwaukee, and it served as home to priests and nuns for the next sixty-plus years. Back in the seventies it was nearly demolished, but a historic preservation group stepped up and saved it. After some painstaking restoration, it now stands surrounded by modern-day buildings in downtown Milwaukee and is open to the public for tours.” Cora paused with her typing and looked up at the others. “Their Christmas decorations and tours are quite famous and popular.” She went back to her keyboard and started tapping again, her eyes scanning her screen.

“So you think that key might have something to do with this mansion?” Duncan asked.

“I do,” I said, hoping I was right. The deadline was rapidly approaching.

For the next minute or two, the room was silent, except for the light tapping sound of Cora hitting her keys. Everyone looked pensive and hopeful, but warily so.

Finally, Cora leaned back in her seat and said, “Bingo! Suzanne Collier sits on the board of directors for the historic preservation group responsible for maintaining the Pabst Mansion.”

Duncan sighed and shook his head, a hapless look on his face. “Mack is right. That's too much coincidence for anybody. But now that we know who we need to go after, we have to figure out how. All we have so far is supposition and circumstantial evidence, none of which would be enough to make an arrest, much less get a conviction. Plus, we don't know if she's working alone. Based on the facts so far, I'd say it's a good bet she isn't. And as was pointed out before, someone with that kind of financial clout won't be easy to catch.”

He was right, of course, and I knew that my problems were far from over. But at least now I knew who the enemy was, one of them, anyway. Suzanne Collier had just been demoted from hunter to prey, and for the first time in days, I felt hope again for the future.

 

 

 

 

 

To be continued . . .

Look for the next Mack's Bar Mystery in August 2017!