Christmas Caramel Murder (14 page)

H
annah stood there in the cloakroom of the Corner Tavern, staring at the pair of light-brown boots at the end of the rack. They were Bonnie's boots. She recognized them. There were uneven patches of darker-colored brown on both of the boots from the sides of the soles all the way up to the ankles. There was no duct tape in sight, but it had probably lost its adhesive grip on the leather when the leather had gotten wet. But was the leather wet? Or was it simply discolored? Hannah had to know for certain.

She moved close enough to the boots to touch the area that looked wet. It was wet, very wet, so soaked that it had not yet dried out. The night that she'd seen Bonnie at the bar, the same night that Phyllis had been murdered, Bonnie had worn her soaked boots inside the Corner Tavern and then she'd changed to the only dry footwear she'd had in her car, her red tennis shoes and a pair of Gil's argyle socks. But the pair of wet boots didn't necessarily mean that Bonnie had anything to do with Phyllis's murder. Bonnie might have walked through some deep snow before she got to the Corner Tavern, realized that her boots were wet when she arrived, and carried her tennis shoes inside to put them on in the cloakroom.

A warning bell in Hannah's mind clanged insistently. Mike needed to know about Bonnie's boots. She really should take a photo and send it to Mike. She'd promised to keep him informed of anything she'd found that could relate to the murder. And even though she didn't believe that Bonnie had anything to do with it, she had an obligation to share this information with Mike.

Hannah pulled out her phone, took a photo of the boots, and tried to remember what her niece Tracey had taught her about attaching a photo to a text message. She titled the photo Bonnie's Boots and hit the proper series of buttons to send the photo to Mike.

“Yes!” Hannah said out loud when the attachment worked. And then she frowned. She'd sent the photo, but she hadn't typed a text message explaining anything about it. Hannah knew that she should send another text to explain, but it was getting late and she still had to stop to take the soup and candy to Bonnie before she would be free to join Michelle and Lonnie for lunch. She could always text Mike later.

For a long moment, Hannah debated whether she should take the boots with her and give them to Bonnie. But Bonnie had left them here and she probably didn't want them back. Bonnie's fix with duct tape had probably worked just fine on shoveled sidewalks and plowed streets, but it was quite obvious that deep snow had rendered the repair useless.

Had Bonnie killed Phyllis? She'd had the opportunity and her boots were wet, but that proved nothing conclusive. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the wet boots. Bonnie was a pillar of the community, a deeply religious person who was active in her church, and a woman who worked tirelessly for the good of the Lake Eden community. Hannah was almost positive that there was a reasonable explanation for Bonnie's wet boots. She would ask when she took Bonnie the soup and the candy.

* * *

Hannah opened the front porch door and stepped inside. It was common practice for Lake Edenites to leave their front porches unlocked during the winter so that visitors could step in to get out of the wind or the snow. Hannah walked to the inside door and knocked, but there was no answer. She listened for a moment, but all she heard from inside was the sound of a television game show with buzzers and bells, and the excited voices of the contestants. If Bonnie had fallen asleep watching television, Hannah didn't want to wake her. Sick people needed their rest. But what if Bonnie hadn't fallen asleep? What if she'd taken a turn for the worse and she was too ill to get up to answer Hannah's knock at the door?

Tentatively, Hannah tried the doorknob. It turned and she pushed it open an inch or two. The enthusiastic utterances of the daytime game show host were louder, but she also heard a rhythmic creaking noise that she could not identify.

Hannah glanced at the coatrack as she hung up her winter things in the front hallway. Bonnie's coat was hanging there, along with a warm scarf, and a knit hat with earflaps and a tassel on the top. It was four degrees below zero today. Hannah had glanced at the indoor-outdoor thermometer that hung outside the kitchen window at The Cookie Jar before she'd left. That was much too cold to go anywhere without a coat, or a scarf, or a hat. Bonnie was home.

Uncertain but determined, Hannah opened the door all the way and stepped inside. She stood there for a moment, not sure what to do next, and then she hung her parka on the coatrack and headed toward the sound of the television set. She called out once, but Bonnie didn't answer. She'd leave the soup and the candy if she found Bonnie asleep, and call Gil at the school to tell him they were there.

The television was in the den. She remembered that from the last time she'd been invited to one of Bonnie's home meetings. Hannah hurried down the hallway, stepped into the den, and found Bonnie there. Bonnie was not asleep. She was sitting in a rocking chair with an afghan around her shoulders, and she was rocking back and forth.

It didn't take more than a moment to realize that the creaking noise had come from the rocking chair. Bonnie's eyes were closed, and Hannah approached quietly. “Bonnie?” she said softly. “It's Hannah. I brought you some soup because Danielle said you were sick.”

Bonnie's eyes opened. They appeared huge and unfocused. “Hannah?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes. It's me, Bonnie. Would you like me to heat you some soup? Michelle made it.”

Bonnie's expression changed to one of puzzlement. “Michelle?” she asked.

It was clear that Bonnie was not in control of her faculties, and Hannah proceeded carefully. “Michelle is my youngest sister. It's Hannah, Hannah Swensen. You recognize me, don't you, Bonnie?”

“Oh, Hannah. Of course I recognize you. But what are you doing here? It's a school day. Why aren't you in class?”

Something was wrong, very wrong, and Hannah knew it. Bonnie was either drugged or still half asleep because the normally cognizant woman that Hannah admired was slipping in and out of reality. Perhaps it would be best to stick with everyday questions at first.

“Are you hungry?” Hannah asked.

“I . . . I don't know. I could be, I think.”

“All right then. I'll go heat the chicken soup that I brought.” Hannah stopped and evaluated Bonnie's blank expression. “Is that all right, Bonnie?”

“Oh, yes. It's fine. Gil should be home and he'll be hungry. He always comes home for lunch on school days.” Bonnie stopped and took a deep breath. “This is a school day, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. I'll be right back, Bonnie.”

“Oh, good. I like you, Hannah, but don't interfere. Never interfere in anything that doesn't concern you. My mother told me that, and it was some of the best advice I ever got. I just wish I'd followed it sooner.”

Bonnie smiled once, and then her expression faded again to a perfectly blank stare. It reminded Hannah of teddy bears in an arcade booth, waiting to go home with their lucky winners. “Are you sure you're okay alone?”

“I'm always alone. Everyone is. We're born alone and we die alone. It's a fact of life.”

Hannah shivered. Bonnie's voice was devoid of inflection, almost like the recorded voice of the time of day on the telephone. “I suppose you're right, Bonnie,” she said, attempting to smile as she went off to the kitchen to heat the soup.

It only took two minutes to heat the soup in the microwave. Hannah found a soup bowl in the cupboard and returned to the den. “Here you are, Bonnie,” she said, placing the bowl and spoon on the table next to Bonnie. “This should make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better until I go,” Bonnie said, not even reaching out for the soup. “She was my daughter, you know.”

Hannah's mind took a huge leap, and suddenly she thought she knew exactly what Bonnie meant. “Phyllis,” she said, recalling Danielle's comment that Bonnie had regarded Phyllis as her daughter.

“Yes. She went bad, Hannah . . . horribly bad. She forgot my lessons, and she wouldn't listen when I tried to correct her. She said she wasn't in school, and she didn't have to listen to me. And then she pushed me away!”

Hannah felt a cold chill run through her as Bonnie's eyes began to glitter. Her mind was teeming with questions, but she didn't want to ask them for fear it would cut off the flow of Bonnie's words.

“I taught her what to do, how to act like a lady, but she reverted to type. She tempted men and used them for her own gain. Mayor Bascomb was weak. He couldn't help himself when she threw herself at him. And she was going to do it again. I saw that lunch bag, and I knew.”

Bonnie rocked a little faster and the speed of her speech increased along with the creaking. “Herb would have fallen under her spell. I knew that and I had to stop her. Men are weak. Except for Gil. Gil tried to save me. And he did . . . for years and years. Gil is my savior. Gil is my rock. I put my trust in him and he will not fail me.”

Hannah was silent. She wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had to say something. She reached into her pocket, clicked the voice record button on her smartphone and said, “I found your boots, Bonnie. And now I know that you killed Phyllis.”

Bonnie looked up at her again with those big, unfocused eyes. “But you see, I had to. She wouldn't listen to me when I tried to correct her, to set her on the right path again. She laughed at me. I kept trying. I reminded her of what it meant to be a lady and she told me to shut up, but I persevered. She could not get away from me, from the truth. She tried, but I followed her.”

“Down into the ditch,” Hannah said, knowing she was right.

“Yes. Yes, down in the ditch. And she slipped and fell.”

The rocker slowed. And then it stopped. Bonnie's eyes attempted to focus on Hannah. “You won't tell Gil, will you? He sees the good in everyone. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with someone who sees the good in everyone?”

Again, Hannah wasn't sure how to answer so she changed the subject, bringing it back to the murder. “I know why you killed Phyllis. But tell me how you did it. I want to understand.”

“She did not suffer. I made sure of that. I found a branch. And I stood above her and I stamped her out. She was evil and it was my duty. You must stamp out evil wherever you find it. The angel helped me do it. The angel guided my arms. You know the angel, don't you, Hannah?”

Hannah took a wild leap into the morass of a twisted mind. “The angel of death?” she asked.

“Yes! I knew you'd understand. You're a good person, Hannah, and I know that you'll be rewarded in the afterlife. The angel will help me with you, too. I'm sorry, Hannah, but I can't let you live. I can't let you tell Gil what I've done. He'd never understand!”

“Maybe he would,” Hannah said quickly, hoping to keep Bonnie talking.

“I'd like to believe that, but I know it isn't so. You must go first and then me. We'll take the journey together, one right after the other.”

Hannah thought fast. “I'll just heat some soup for Gil first. I'll do it right now and come back.”

“No,” Bonnie said, and her tone was as flat as the flagstone on the front of the fireplace in Bonnie's den. “You must stay right here so that I can release you from this earthly plane. Gil will be home soon, and the deed must be done before he comes home.”

As Hannah watched in horror, Bonnie drew a gun from beneath her afghan and pointed it directly at Hannah. “It won't hurt, Hannah. I'd never hurt you. You're my friend, and we can be together in the hereafter.”

Hannah knew she had to say something to stop Bonnie from using the gun. Her breakdown could be the result of guilt over the murder she'd committed, or she could be out of her mind from the fever that accompanied her cold. Hannah didn't really care what had caused Bonnie's mind to snap. She just knew that she had to get out of the den. And fast!

“Wait just a moment, Bonnie,” Hannah said, as calmly as she could. “Give me a little time to heat more soup. It's comfort food, and Gil will need something to comfort himself when he sees both us here.”

Bonnie's expression changed. She looked a bit thoughtful. “Do you really think so?”

“I do. It will be a shock, Bonnie. And everyone knows that you should give something warm, something comforting to people who are in shock.”

“I've heard that. And you're right, Hannah.” Bonnie nodded, but then her eyes narrowed. “But will you come back here so that I can release you?”

Hannah heard the sound of the front door opening, and she answered quickly so that it would mask the sound of the door. “Oh, yes. I'll be back. You're right, Bonnie. It'll only take a minute or two and then I'll be back with you.”

And then Gil was standing in the doorway of the den, an expression of disbelief on his face as he stared at his wife with the gun in her hand. “Bonnie?” he said in the calm, friendly voice that Hannah assumed he used with his troubled students. “What are you doing, darling?”

“Don't you see?” Bonnie responded, turning toward him. “I have to release her, Gil. She knows I killed Phyllis. And then we can go, too. Together. Isn't that right, darling?”

“Yes, of course,” Gil said. “Just let me think for a moment, dear.” And then, when Bonnie's arm lowered slightly, Gil rushed toward her and grabbed the gun before Bonnie could raise it again. They tussled for a moment, as Hannah stood there, frozen. The struggle seemed to last forever, and Hannah's feet seemed glued to the spot. And then Gil forced Bonnie's arm up so that the barrel of the gun was pointing toward the ceiling.