Too Dead To Dance (16 page)

“What happened?”

“College happened. Frank
went to college on a hockey scholarship at the University of
Minnesota. He had dreams of playing in the NHL. Trudy went to
Hermann Community College and got her Associates Degree in Office
Systems. Then Frank met Ida. I don’t know how they got together but
he fell in love with Ida and that’s all she wrote. Hook, line and
sinker he fell. They got married, she got pregnant and Frank had to
quit school to support them. Ida was from the Twin Cities but they
moved here when he dropped out of college.

“The problem was that Frank
never broke up with Trudy. He just quit writing and calling and
then he shows up here with a pregnant wife. Trudy was not only
heartbroken. She was shocked and embarrassed.

“That had to be horrible
for her.”

“It was. She married Ray
about six months later. Right after Frank and Ida’s baby was born.
They’ve had a good life and I believe she really loves Ray. Now.
But it was hard for her. At the time, she thought everyone in town
was laughing at her behind her back. No one was laughing at
her.”

“Maybe not.” I said, “But
pity can be worse.”

“You betcha. So now you can
see why she don’t particularly like old Frank, our show off Fest
Meister.”

“What about Frank and Ida.
Are they still married?”

“Ida died a few years ago.
Cancer. But Frank was crazy about her all these years. Anything she
wanted, he gave her. Worked his butt off, he did. And she was
plenty demanding. I think today they’d call her ‘high
maintenance.’”

15

I drove over to Megan’s
house. I knocked twice, turned the handle of the back door and
walked in calling, “It’s me!” I was immediately surrounded by my
favorite fragrance, chocolate.

“You’ve been baking,” I
said, giving her a hug.

“You’re just in time to
test-taste my espresso brownies. Don always dunks his pastry in his
coffee so I thought I’d invent these for him.”

She plopped a pan of
brownies on the counter. I sat down on a white padded bar stool.
Megan’s bar stools were so comfortable we could sit here for hours.
Besides being padded, they had wooden arms and swiveled.

Megan pored us each a big
cup of java, adding a dollop of coffee liqueur for good measure to
each cup. Then she cut into the brownies and put a large square in
front of me. Picking it up with my fingers, I took a big bite.
Yummy rich chocolate and a hint of coffee.

Munching on a delicious
brownie I said, “So, things are back on with Don?” Megan frowned at
me. “What do you mean? It was never off.”

“Well, you were with that
other guy on Thursday night. I just thought…”

“Jennifer, you think too
much. Al was just for fun. Both of us were just looking for a
diversion.”

“Al? Did you say Al? Al
Metzger?”

“Yeah. Do you know him? Oh,
lord, you’re blushing. Don’t tell me you fell for his
line?”

Sitting up straighter on
the bar stool, I straightened out my shirt and said, “Of course
not. I just met him last night and we talked for a few
minutes.”

“Hah! Al doesn’t talk, he
flirts and gropes.” Megan laughed and pointed her finger at
me.

“Well, he didn’t grope me!
But he did flirt. Later I saw him driving through the fest grounds
with one of the Polka Daze princesses.”

“He’s a real player,” Megan
said.

“He’s more than a player.
He’s a suspect.” I told Megan about Al and Wes not getting along.
“But, wait a minute. You were with Al on Thursday night. Guess that
gets him off my suspect list.”

Megan looked like she was
about to say something, then shook her head.

Changing the subject, I
asked, “How did you make these wonderful brownies? I didn’t even
know you baked.”

“I cheated, of course. I
started with, ‘Open one package of brownie mix...’ Then I added
some espresso and other goodies. I even put some coffee liqueur in
the frosting. Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful! You need
to write down the recipe so I can make them.”

Halfway through my second
brownie, Megan’s phone chirped. She looked at the screen, giggled,
and then started tapping the keys.

I waited a few minutes,
thinking she was being a little rude letting me sit there staring
at her while messages went flying back and forth. Finally she
noticed I was getting impatient and brought the session to an
end.

I assumed it was Don that
took her full attention. “Why didn’t he just call if he wanted to
talk to you?”

“He’s on a plane, on his
way to Las Vegas.”

“You’re kidding! He’s
texting while flying a plane?”

Megan snickered while
pouring another cup of coffee for me along with another dollop of
coffee liqueur. “No, he bummed a ride to Las Vegas. He’s meeting
some friends from college for a guy thing. He’s just waiting for
take-off. And he wasn’t texting he was sexting.”

“What the heck is
that?”

“Sexy talk.”

“You mean you were having
phone sex while I was sitting right here? That’s so
disgusting.”

Sometime I wish I couldn’t
read upside down. I glanced at Megan’s phone and saw, “I can’t wait
to kiss your pretty…” I jerked my head back and gasped.

The corners of Megan’s eyes
crinkled as she grinned at me, showing no remorse what so ever.
“Quit being such a prude. You sound like Bernie.”

Realizing she was right, I
laughed with her. “Just promise me you won’t send him any naked
pictures.”

“I may be silly but I’m not
stupid. Those things can follow you around the rest of your
life.”

After we pigged out I told
her about Sally and Bobby. They were each other’s alibi but both
had said they were alone after Bobby dropped off Sally. “But
something was wrong. Sally wouldn’t look at me while she told me
about Bobby dropping her off. I can’t believe that sweet Sally
could do something as horrible as murdering someone.”

When I finished telling her
all I had learned since yesterday, she poured us each a glass of
Madeira wine. She said it was the perfect dessert wine. “How did
Wes know Sally’s father?”

“I don’t have a clue. I
suppose he was a guard or patron at the bank.” We both looked at
her computer at the same time.

When we Goggled “bank
robbery + Hermann, MN” there were only two hits. One in 1928 and
the other four years ago.

“I remember that,” Megan
said. “It was a big deal around here. Do you remember
it?”

“Vaguely. This happened
about the time I was busy planning Beth’s wedding. I’m glad I only
had one daughter. If Nick ever gets married, all I have to do is
show up.”

“You keep thinking that,
Sweetie.” Megan said, patting me on the back. She had three kids,
two boys and a girl. Carrie was the only one still
single.

As we perused down the
newspaper article we came to his name. “David Baumgartner, well
known to the police due to numerous arrests for misdemeanors from
DWI to bad checks, was shot and killed by the bank guard, Roger
Olmsted. The two other robbers got away in a black
sedan.”

“Oh, Lord, Sally’s father
was the bank robber,” I said. “That must have been difficult for
her family. No wonder Wes had been able to weasel his way into
their trust.”

“And no wonder Sally’s
mother clung to him and refused to believe Sally might be in
danger,” Megan added.

“I think Wes may have been
one of the bank robbers.”

“Whoa, that’s jumping to a
big conclusion, Sweetie.”

“I know, but I have a
feeling this is all related somehow. I’m going over to talk to
Marty.”

“Are you nuts? Edwin will
never let you in the house. What are you going to say, ‘Did your
husband rob a bank before he got sent up for stalking little
girls?’ I’m coming with you. This I have to see.”

“Give me some credit. I
know how to be tactful, unlike some people I know. And if you
insist on going with me, watch what you say. I don’t want to spook
her. By the way, Edwin goes to twelve o’clock Mass every
Sunday.”

“You’re
kidding.”

‘Nope, he tries to keep up
his image as a pious man. I doubt if anyone but Edwin believes
that.”

We left Megan’s house and
walked toward my car. I noticed the bags from the Christmas Shop,
again. “Meg, I need to run these over to my place. I keep
forgetting them. I’ll be right back.”

I grabbed the bags and
pulled them out of the car. A piece of paper fluttered to the
ground. I bent over, picking it up from the grass, not wanting to
litter Megan’s front yard. It looked like a receipt but I
remembered putting that in my purse after I signed the charge slip.
Unfolding the paper, I read in thick black lettering, “STOP
SNOOPING!!!”

I dropped the bags.
Luckily, I was standing on the grass not the driveway and the bags
thumped but I didn’t hear any glass breaking. Megan rushed to my
side of the car.

“What’s wrong?” She asked,
grabbing the note from my hand. Megan read the note then looked at
me. “Who wrote this? Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know who wrote it.
It was in one of these bags.” I picked up my parcels and walked
across the street.

Megan trailed behind me.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do about
it?”

Stopping in the middle of
the street, I turned and answered. “I’m going to put these bags in
my house. Then I’m going over to talk to Marty. Are you coming with
me?”

“Of course, I’m with you
all the way. Shouldn’t you call Decker and tell him about
it?”

“No. He’ll just tell me to
keep my nose out of it before I get hurt.”

“Maybe he’s right. This is
getting ‘way too scary.”

“I don’t care. I’m angry.”
Waving the paper in her face I replied between clenched teeth, “How
dare someone break into my car and leave a note like this for me.
Who does this person think he is?”

Megan took the bags from me
and said, “I’ll put these in your house, get the car and we’ll go
to Marty’s.

16

We drove the familiar route
to Winfield Heights, a newer subdivision on the east side of
Hermann. When we pulled into the driveway of the house on Willow
Street where I had lived for the past four years, a pain ripped
through my chest and I had to blink fast to hold the tears back. I
spied the red and white “For Sale” sign stuck on a post in the
front yard and my lips quivered.

“I thought Edwin had listed
the house with you,” I said to Megan.

“Nope. He went with Hermann
Realty. You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure
Marty’s brother works there.”

“Well, that’s just great.
I’m not using my part of the profits to pay for the realtor. He’ll
have to fight me for it.”

We climbed the three steps
to the little front porch and rang the bell.

I remembered when we had
moved here, Edwin was unhappy with his transfer. He felt as if he'd
been demoted, even though he was now head of the accounting
department with a substantial pay raise. He’d lived all his life in
Chicago suburbs and believed we were now living among hicks, in a
small town with no “culture.” Not that he ever attended anything
cultural in Chicago, unless you count an occasional Bears game when
someone gave him tickets.

While he grumped and
groaned about everything for the first year, I spent that time
turning our new two-story home into a “House Beautiful.” I had
wanted us to buy a classic old Colonial Revival right in the heart
of Hermann but Edwin wanted to live in a “classier” part of town.
And since I believed that he made the forty mile commute so I could
live near my friends, I gave in. I usually gave in to Edwin. I
didn’t seem to have any trouble standing up to friends and
strangers but for some reason Edwin intimidated me.

I finally gave in to his
brow beating for this two-story home with a three-car garage stuck
right in front as if the cars, not people were most important.
Edwin had a patio built in the back yard and declined to sit on the
tiny front porch. He said he refused to look like Farmer Brown,
sitting in a rocker, drinking moonshine. Instead, he sat on his
patio drinking inexpensive Merlot, which he hated but was all the
rage at the time.

I rang the front door bell
again and waited for Marty to answer. I was sure she hadn’t
accompanied Edwin to church. He was trying to keep the fact that
Marty was living here low key. I thought if his reputation was so
dear to him perhaps he shouldn’t behave like a louse.

When Marty opened the door,
wearing a jewel colored wrap and looking good, even with her hair
all tousled, I regretted not thinking of how we wanted to approach
Marty about the questions I needed answered.

“Uh, hi,” I said, trying to
sound upbeat. Too bad it sounded squeaky. “Could we talk to you for
a few minutes?”