Murder on the Bucket List (16 page)

twenty-five

It was well past
dinnertime before they left the police station. Francine thought the questioning had gone well. No one really suspected her or Charlotte of killing anyone, of course, but the police felt the women were somehow connected to the murderer, and they needed desperately to figure out what that connection was. After getting all the information they could, the police let them go.

Jud took them back to Friederich's garage where Francine had left her car. He made a big production of warning the press, now numbering four cars, to
stop
following the ladies around.

“I thought you wanted them to follow us,” Charlotte said.

“I do. I'm making you irresistible by chasing them away. Just don't do any interviews, okay?”

After Francine dropped Charlotte off and returned to her house, she noticed the gaggle of press had reassembled outside her house. She pulled the car into the garage and again lowered the door before any reporters could assail the breach.

Inside Jonathan was there to give her a hug. But she pulled away. “You knew about Larry's secret basement. You played poker there.”

“It was never my idea to keep it from you women.”

“But you went along with it. And you kept it secret for a long time.”

“It's not like we had high-stakes poker games. It was our version of your Bridge Club. We even had it on the same nights.”

“But why not tell us?”

“It was Larry's idea, and we all just went along with it. He loved having secrets, and the staircase into the basement was a doozy.”

“Having secrets is coming back to haunt him.”

“While I agree with you it was wrong, don't pretend the Bridge Club hasn't been guilty of keeping secrets. I believe you told us you were having a slumber party, not going skinny-dipping.”

“The slumber party part was true. Or was going to be, until Friederich's body fell out of the pool shed.”

“You know what I mean.”

She sighed. “More little secrets.”

“We're all guilty.” He tried to hug her and this time she let him. “Are you okay? Tell me what happened.”

She told him about the events of the afternoon, the discovery of Kramer's body, and the interrogation at the police station.

“You found
another
body?”

“Jud found it at the same time. We didn't go looking for it. Don't start!”

“You
have
been through a lot.”

She put her head on his chest. “I don't want to sound cold, but the sight of Jeff Kramer's dead body didn't bother me nearly as much as Friederich's did. I'm afraid I'm becoming immune.”

“How did Kramer look?”

“Like he was sleeping, except his face was white. Just like Friederich, there was no blood to indicate how he died. Charlotte thinks it was another blood choke.”

“What do you think?”

“I think someone needs to wrap this up quickly,” she said, thinking of Charlotte. “Did you learn anything at the lawyer's?”

“Not much. I think Larry wants to tell me more information than the lawyer wants me to know. All I can figure is there was some kind of clause in the grandparents' will that made Larry do what he did. Not that we know what Larry did, other than spend the money.”

“Alice told me she's considering throwing him out of the house in the hopes it will make him talk.”

“The sooner he tells her what's going on, the sooner it'll be off his conscience.”

Francine's stomach grumbled. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished. I haven't had dinner. I kept hoping you'd be home soon. Want to go out?”

She shook her head. “The press.”

“I'll get take out. Mexican? Chinese? Pizza?”

“Chinese sounds good.”

Jonathan left and Francine poured herself a glass of white wine. It wouldn't go well with the Chinese food but she'd be done with it before Jonathan got back. She started a light jazz playlist on the stereo and sat back in the recliner. Her cell phone rang.

It was Joy. “Good news. Marcy was able to cancel
The View
. They decided if you didn't want them, they didn't want you. But I don't think Marcy's taking your no very well. I think she's got something else in the works. In the meantime, the Food Network is warming up to the idea of using Mary Ruth.”

“That should make her happy.”

“I don't know if she knows yet. And I saw the news report about you and Charlotte and Jud finding another body.”

“Already?” But then, the reporters had been right outside Larry's building and likely saw the medics pull the body out of the house. “I haven't seen it. I just got home.”

“You can probably find it on one of the stations' websites. Or catch it at eleven. You might be the lead off story at eleven.”

“I might use the DVR. But I think I'll just go to bed early and read about it in tomorrow's paper.”

“Do you know who the dead person was?”

Francine decided it was best to toe the police's party line and not speculate. “I can't say.”

“Do you think the same person killed him who killed Friederich?”

“I think it's likely. But I don't think it's Larry.”

“I should hope not. Have you talked to Alice this afternoon?”

Francine didn't want to recount the trip she and Jonathan had made to Alice and Larry's house. “I've been kind of busy this afternoon …”

“Of course. I'll give her a call. I just wanted you to know about
The View
, so you wouldn't worry.”

Oh, I wasn't worried
, Francine wanted to say,
I was never going to do it
. Instead, she said, “I'm glad you're getting what you want, Joy. But it may not be what the rest of us want. I'll see you tomorrow for the luncheon.”

They hung up. Francine leaned back and tried to make sense of what was going on. Friederich had been killed, likely Saturday night. The killer had used a choke hold that kept the blood from reaching his brain. He then stored Friederich's body in Alice and Larry's pool shed. Why? In all likelihood, because it was close. The women had their skinny-dipping party the next night. Mary Ruth sniffed out the odor and traced it to the pool shed where they found the body.

They now knew Friederich had stopped paying Larry rent money. Larry had threatened to throw Friederich out, but never did. Why? Did he have a big heart or did Friederich have something Larry wanted? Could he have coveted the assets of the race car business? Friederich may have been working on some kind of technology for midget cars that could be valuable. It would seem so, since Jake Maehler had come back to Brownsburg in hopes Friederich could return him to his winning ways.

But how did the death of Jeff Kramer fit in? The same day Friederich was killed, Larry secretly returned from Las Vegas to meet someone whose name he wouldn't reveal, to tell him/her private information. Alice had become suspicious of Larry before he left and hired a detective to follow him, but Larry's sudden return surprised the detective and he was unable to catch the same flight. So the detective recruited Kramer as a last-minute replacement to follow Larry. But Kramer disappeared, only to be found dead three days later on a couch in the basement of the very building Friederich was renting from Larry. Kramer's time of death was unknown too. It's possible he was kept in cold storage until he was dumped on Larry's couch. He may have been killed in the same manner as Friederich. It may even have been around the same time as Friederich.

If Larry wasn't guilty—and he would have to be inordinately stupid to have planted evidence against himself—then who was guilty? Was it Jake Maehler, worried that Friederich
had
sabotaged his car in an earlier race? Although they had publicly made up, was Jake still concerned enough to just kill Friederich and take the technology for himself ? Would Jake have done that to his former mentor? If he thought Friederich wasn't being loyal to him and was using his skills to help another driver, maybe. Kramer had authored articles about the Maehler/Friederich row. Perhaps Kramer had figured it out, knew for certain Jake had been betrayed, and that forced Jake's hand. Jake needed to kill Kramer in addition to Friederich to keep it all quiet.

But how did Larry's return from Las Vegas fit into that scenario? Kramer was alive to take the call to follow Larry, but no one knew what happened to him after that until he showed up dead. Jake didn't have an alibi for the time of Friederich's death, and neither did Larry. Maybe when the coroner decided the time of Kramer's death, either Larry or Jake would have an alibi for that and it would eliminate one of them as a suspect. Not that Francine seriously considered Larry a suspect. So was it Jake, the only name left, or was it an unknown? It was still possible the two deaths weren't connected, but no one, including Jud, thought it was likely.

Francine's cell phone rang again.
Charlotte.
She thought about sending it to voicemail because she wasn't finished ruminating. But the vision she'd had earlier flashed back again. Charlotte was her best friend. She needed to figure this out. Truth be told, Francine believed that Charlotte's free-thinking ways would allow her to leap to the conclusion before any of the other women would get there, including her. Plus, there was still that other item: the Bridge Club members and their Sixty Lists. Despite the horror of two deaths, some kind of magic was at play here she couldn't define. Even Alice, whose life was being affected most negatively by what was going on, seemed to be finding a strength no one knew she had. Francine couldn't say why, but she felt that if Charlotte could figure out who was guilty, they all might come through this ordeal with rare gifts no one could have imagined just days ago when everyone was afraid to go skinny-dipping and Friederich's body dropped out of the pool shed.

Francine answered the cell.

“That took long enough,” Charlotte said. “Do I even want to know what you and Jonathan were doing? I've read mysteries where murder incites conjugal passion and people do all kinds of crazy—”

She didn't need her to finish the thought. “Jonathan has gone to get Chinese takeout. I was … busy. What do you need?”

“Your help. I'm sitting here looking at the pages of the magazines I got out of Friederich's bathroom. You know, the ones with the corners turned down? I know there must be a pattern, but I don't see it yet.”

“But when we were at your house with Jud, you said you gave those magazines back to him.”

“Please, Francine, I wouldn't be a decent sleuth if I hadn't already used my computer printer to copy those pages
when I got home, just in case. The current issue I had to track down because it had too many pages I needed to copy, but fortunately they had it at the Barnes & Noble in Plainfield.”

“You devil, Charlotte.”

“So, can you come over?”

Francine thought a moment. She looked at the time. But more than that, she thought about her vision. “Why don't you let your mind work on that overnight, and we can talk in the morning? By the time Jonathan and I finish eating, all I'll want to do is go to bed. I'll call you.”

“Okay.” Charlotte said good night and hung up.

She heard Jonathan pull the truck into the garage. She got up from the recliner and met him in the kitchen.

He put the bag on the counter. “General Tso's chicken and beef with broccoli. I got fried rice. What are you smiling about?”

“I don't know. I feel bad about Jeff Kramer, Friederich Guttmann, and Alice and Larry, but I have this irrational feeling that everything's going to be all right.”

“That's one of the things I love about you. Even in the midst of chaos, you refuse to give up hope.” He kissed her on the lips. “Let's eat. If I knew how to use chopsticks better, some of this might not have made it home. As it is, there's a deficit of fortune cookies.”

Francine looked in the bag and found one cookie still wrapped. Where there might have been others, she found crumpled cellophane and crumbs. Then she spotted a fortune at the bottom of the bag. She pulled it out. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

Jonathan put serving spoons in the takeout containers. “I guess if you knew who your enemies were, that would be sound advice.”

“With all that's happened, I can't help but feel they're already closer than we know.” And for just a moment, Francine's bright vision of hope flickered.

twenty-six

After breakfast the next
morning, Francine was a little surprised and even worried that she hadn't heard from Charlotte. When she got out of the shower and had dressed and there was still no call, Francine called her.

She could hear the grogginess in Charlotte's voice. “Hello? Francine? What time is it? Never mind, let me find my glasses. I slept here in the recliner.”

Francine told her it was nine o'clock. “Everyone's going to be here in an hour to help get the place ready for the luncheon, and I thought if we were going to have time to talk ahead of that …”

“Yes. It's all coming back to me. I have this stuff spread out all over the floor in the library. You have to come over. I don't want to move it.”

“Have you figured anything out?”

“Yes, but I want to show it to you to make sure you agree. You're the sensible one, you know.”

“So I keep being told. You're sure you can't just bring all that stuff over here?”

“Nope.”

“Let me talk to Jonathan and I'll be over.”

Jonathan wasn't convinced it was a good idea. “I have to run into the office for a meeting. It's supposed to be a quick one, but you never know. Are you sure you'll be back in time to get ready for the luncheon? You said they'd be here at ten. That's only an hour away, and Mary Ruth might be early.”

Francine debated her options. “I'll give Darla a key and ask her to let Mary Ruth in, in case I'm not back in time. I know she's coming to the luncheon, and maybe it'll dissuade her from taking any future actions against us.”

“You can hope.”

She gave him a quick kiss. “I'm sure it will be fine. I'm going to drive over to avoid the press. I'll stop at Darla's on the way.”

Channel 8 and Channel 59 had news vans parked outside her house, plus there were the two dark cars that had followed her yesterday. Remembering the agreement with Jud, she waved to them as she backed out of the driveway and drove a few houses down to Darla's. She pulled into the driveway.

“What's with the entourage?” Darla asked when she answered the door.

The television crews were scrambling to set up on the sidewalk out front.

“They're my homies,” Francine said.

Darla smiled and waved at them, but Francine could see the alarm in her eyes. “Is this about the warning we gave Alice and Larry? Because it's a homeowners' association issue. You don't need to get the press involved.”

Francine suddenly realized she could use this to her advantage. “Just drop the warning and there'll be no investigation. In the meantime, I have another favor to ask.” She explained what she needed.

“If you take the press with you, I'll go over right away and house-sit until either you or Jonathan relieves me.”

Francine gave Darla the key and left. The parade followed her over to Charlotte's, where Channel 13 had a news van parked out front.

She stopped in the driveway. The reporters were out of their vehicles before she had even shut the car off. They charged up the driveway, microphones extended. Before she could reach the walk leading to the house, they were shouting questions at her.

“Is it true you found Jeff Kramer's body?”

“In your opinion, are the two murders related?”

“You saw the body. Was the method the same as Guttmann's?”

“Who do you think is behind the killings?”

“Do you think there will be more?”

“Is the killer finished yet? Are you worried?”

Francine waved them all quiet. “I have no comment on the death of Jeff Kramer, other than to say I'm sorry for his family. He was a good reporter. Am I worried, personally? I won't rest easily until the killer is found, as I'm sure you can understand. I'm confident the Brownsburg Police are doing everything they can to solve this crime.”

She turned and headed quickly for Charlotte's front door. She could see it had been slightly opened. The press trailed behind asking more questions. Her pace got faster and faster.

Charlotte yanked the door open and let her rush in, then slammed it in the faces behind her. She threw the dead bolt on the door. “I thought you handled that well.”

“Thanks. I tried to channel my inner Joy. Has Channel 13 been here all morning?”

“I noticed they were here after you woke me up.” She motioned her down the hall into the library.

Francine was overwhelmed by the mess. It was even worse than usual. Papers littered the floor. Some were copies and some were magazine pages. There appeared to be a method to the way they were laid out, but what that organization was, she wasn't sure. Two easels with white boards on them had been set up, and Charlotte had written notes in three colors on them. Yellow sticky notes punctuated the writing on the white boards.

“What does all this mean?” Francine asked.

“I made a log of every event photographed in the magazines, plus every person who was mentioned in every caption. There's a pattern. Jake was at every event where Sara Baggesen raced. Let me go over the evidence to make sure you concur.”

“I don't think we have time. Were there any photos of the two of them together?”

“No, but it could just mean they were being careful.”

Francine was not convinced. “Did Jake race as well?”

“At some of them, but not in the midgets. He was in the Silver Crown series.”

The two of them took their familiar seats, Charlotte in the apricot recliner, Francine in the rocking chair, after moving papers to the floor.

“I don't know, Charlotte. It hardly seems conclusive.”

“Friederich must've believed they were a couple. Why would he have gone to all the trouble to mark those pages?”

“Are you suggesting that Jake, who's twenty-three, is having an affair with a child of sixteen?”

“Do you know a sixteen-year-old who thinks of herself as a child? It's only us old fogies who know they're still children. They don't. Just keep an open mind, okay? It's a possibility. It's also possible she may be stalking
him
. Maybe she signed up to race places where she knew he would be.”

Francine's eyes got wide. “I didn't think of that. Maybe she has Darla's compulsive personality.” With not much time before she needed to get back, she picked up the papers nearest her, focusing on the photos of Jake. At one of the races, he was besieged by young woman fans. As Charlotte had said, Sara wasn't among the gaggle of women. But Francine thought she spotted a familiar face in the background. “Charlotte, isn't that Larry?” She thrust the page at her.

Charlotte pulled a magnifying glass from a drawer in the coffee table. She took a full minute to examine the photograph. “This copy isn't that good. I can see why you would think it might be Larry because of the goatee. We should ask Jud to let us see the original.”

“If we did that, we'd have to explain why we wanted it, and if we were right it would be one more reason for them to suspect Larry. It would be better if we could borrow a copy from someone else. I wonder if the Brownsburg Library carries it.”

“They might. Of course, Larry and Alice are fans of Jake's. In some ways it's not a surprise to find Larry there.”

Francine checked the caption. “The race was in Florida. I don't remember them making a trip to Florida anytime recently, even in the last year.”

“Larry made a golfing trip somewhere south in the spring, didn't he?”

“He did. Jonathan couldn't go because it was tax season. I don't think anyone else went with him. But it wasn't to Florida, not that I recall.”

“We can check with Alice, although I'm starting to suspect he may not be truthful all the time with her.”

Francine had to agree. “You don't know the half of it.”

“So tell me what you know about them.”

She first swore Charlotte to secrecy. Then she told her about Larry's apology to Alice and Jonathan about the large amount of money his grandparents had left him, how he'd moved it into an offshore account, and that most of it was gone. She also told Charlotte that Alice had Larry followed to Las Vegas, that she knew he'd come back earlier, and how Jeff Kramer fit into the picture as the man recruited to follow Larry when he arrived home.

Charlotte's mouth dropped open. Then she closed it. Then it opened again. Francine thought she looked like a guppy.

“And Jud doesn't know?” Charlotte stammered.

Francine shrugged. “It's Alice and Larry's responsibility to tell the police, not me.”

“You have a point.” Charlotte sat in the chair, still stunned. “What did Larry do with all that money?”

“He says he'll tell Alice when he meets with this mystery person and tells them whatever it is he's going to tell them.”

“Did he say when he would meet with the person?”

“No, and he didn't give a time frame for making that decision, either.”

The mantel clock on the fireplace in the library chimed, and Francine looked at it. “We need to get going.”

Charlotte put the magnifying glass back in the drawer and pulled out Friederich's black iPod Touch. “Before we leave, tell me how to turn this thing on.”

Francine took it from her friend. “I still can't believe you stole his iPod.” She held down the top button but nothing happened. “It's dead. It probably needs a charge. Mine loses a charge if I don't use it for awhile. Help me remember and I'll give you my charger when we get back.”

They agreed it would work best for them to drive separately, since Francine would be taking Mary Ruth to the gym immediately following the luncheon—if all went well. There was only one black press car outside now. As the reporter got out to question Francine, she waved him off and hurried to her car. He followed her and Charlotte.

Francine was dismayed to see the press was now outside her house, almost as if they knew about the luncheon. She pulled into the garage, edging past the
Mary Ruth's Catering
van. Charlotte pulled up and parked behind Francine's car. She walked as quickly as she could, wielding her cane. Francine lowered the garage door.

“I hope they don't scare the neighbors away from the luncheon,” she told Charlotte.

“Are you kidding? This will make the neighbors even more excited. I bet we'll get more than we planned for. Remember, the press is our friend.”

“I keep forgetting.”

They entered the mudroom that led from the garage into the house. Jonathan met them there with a concerned look on his face.

“What is it?” Francine asked. He just shook his head and opened the door to the great room.

Francine took it all in. During the short period of time she'd left to meet Charlotte, the entire room had been transformed. She held on to the door frame wall with one hand. “What happened here?” she asked.

“I was afraid you didn't know about it. Darla told me the decorators came with Joy and that other woman, Marcy. They had this done in no time.”

“Where's Darla?”

“She went home to change into ‘something more appropriate.'”

Francine could only imagine what that meant.

She assessed what the decorators had done. The room consisted of two large spaces joined together through an arched opening. Over the arch now hung replicas of the flags used in IndyCar racing. In the larger of the two spaces were two long tables that seated ten people each. In the smaller area, artfully displayed, were way too many black, white, and checkered accent pieces. Plus, a tall display case Francine had never seen before served as the room's centerpiece. It was filled with hot rod, NASCAR, and midget car memorabilia.

“By the time I got home it was too late,” Jonathan said. “At least it will give everyone something to look at.”

Charlotte put her arm around Francine's waist. “It'll be okay, really.”

“You think this looks okay?”

“I didn't say that. It's how I imagine death would look if someone crashed into the Speedway museum at high speed. Only with more color. What I mean is, we'll make Marcy take it all down as soon as the luncheon is over.”

A crash sounded from the kitchen. “And this isn't the worst of it,” Jonathan said over the outburst of voices that followed the crash. He rolled his eyes in that direction. “You need to see what's going on in there.”

Francine crossed the great room and entered the kitchen, followed closely by Charlotte. Joy was shouldering a large, studio-like video camera by the door. Mary Ruth, clad in a bright pink
Mary Ruth's Catering
apron, was behind the center island with a basket in front of her. Next to Mary Ruth, in front of an identical basket, was a short young Hispanic man. His black apron, spotted with grease, said
El Burrito Loco
. Marcy stood in front of them going over instructions, in English for Mary Ruth and in Spanish for the other guy.

Francine strode up to Marcy. “What's going on here?”

“Food Network has an opening in two weeks on
Chopped
. One of their scheduled chefs backed out. They've asked for an audition tape from Mary Ruth. I thought, what better way to show what Mary Ruth can do than actually stage a competition?”

“Who's he?” Francine pointed to the young guy in black apron. “Is he really a chef ?”

“It's the best I could do in a hurry. He's from that Mexican restaurant on Northfield Drive, down from the Kohl's. His name is Jose. That's all I've dared ask at this point.”

Francine looked from Mary Ruth to Jose. Everyone looked young to her, but Jose looked barely old enough to drive, let alone be a chef. “
Hola,
” she told him. “
Quantos a
ñ
os tiene
?”