Chapter
Twenty-Two

I waited until after lunch to call Paul. He sounded rushed and promised to call me back when he could. Finally, a little after three o’clock, the phone rang. Janet answered it, and I told her I’d talk to Paul from the upstairs phone. After picking up the phone in my room, I waited until Janet hung up. Then I quickly ran through my findings.

“Wow. You really did make some progress,” Paul said.

“So what do we do now?”

“Don’t do anything. Let me think about this for a bit. Did you call Claire by any chance?”

“No. I planned to do that, but I got sidetracked with this new discovery.”

“Why don’t you call her and see what she knows. Specifically ask about John Smith. And mention the other names too. See if she can add anything that might be helpful.”

“Paul, are you sure you shouldn’t just turn this info in to the police?”

Paul hesitated. “Possibly, but I’d like to give them a little more evidence. Let’s go as far as we can first. Then we’ll contact them. Asking them to reopen a closed case won’t be easy.”

“Okay,” I said. “I still haven’t heard from Mike. Should I phone him?”

“I’m actually on my way to see him now. He’s staying at the Fredericktown Lodge. I called my friend Tim, who works there, and he confirmed that Mike is a guest.”

“You’re not going to call him first?”

“No. I want to meet him face-to-face. I realize there’s no real reason to think he’s not on the level, but I want to be sure, Sarah.”

“I understand. Just don’t offend him. We need his help.”

“Trust me, I’m not going to be confrontational. I just want to make up my own mind.” He paused for a moment. “What is that clicking noise?”

“It’s a problem on the line,” I said. “It’s been going on for quite a while.”

Paul was silent for a moment. “When did it start?”

“I’m not sure. Janet already talked to the phone company about it. It should be cleared up soon.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. As long as Janet actually talked to someone from the telephone company.”

I chuckled. “You don’t think someone’s listening in, do you?”

“Sorry. I guess I’m being paranoid. The more we look into Hannah’s murder, the more concerns I have.”

“Which makes it even harder for me to understand why the police in Kansas City don’t take what I told them more seriously.”

Paul sighed. “Unfortunately, it happens, Sarah. Big-city police departments get busy. Sometimes it’s easier to close a case so you can move on to the next one.”

“I hope it doesn’t take much longer for us to get the evidence we need.”

“I feel the same way, but the last thing I want is for them to dismiss us. We’d be back to square one.” He grunted. “I’ve got to go. About Mike, don’t worry. I’ll be very careful.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. I trusted Paul, but sometimes people make mistakes. Even though I had faith in his law-enforcement instincts, he didn’t have connections at the Kansas City Police Department. Mike did. I hadn’t forgotten about Anson Bentley, but if the police were still calling Hannah’s murder a burglary, it was a good chance he was in agreement with it.

“I’ll call you back after I talk to Mike,” Paul said. “In the meantime, why don’t you see if you can get in contact with Claire?”

I told him I would and hung up. I hunted for the number in Hannah’s phone book and dialed it. After the second ring, a woman answered the phone. “Kennedy, Worthington, Klemm, and Sparlin.”

“May I speak to Claire Freeman?” I said.

“Yes, one moment.”

A few seconds later, a different woman’s voice came on the line. “This is Claire Freeman.”

“Claire, this is Sarah Miller. Hannah’s sister.”

“Sarah. I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you? How is Cicely?”

After answering this question so often, my response had been whittled down to, “We’re holding our own. Cicely is in school and doing well. We both miss Hannah.”

“I miss her too, but I’m glad to hear you and Cicely are okay,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Claire, can you tell me anything about my sister that I might not know? I mean, was she afraid of anyone? Concerned about anything before her death? I’m looking into the possibility that her death wasn’t the result of a burglary.”

“The police already asked these questions,” she said slowly. “You know that, right?”

“I’m sure they did.”

“You think they may have missed something?”

“I don’t know. Hannah’s death is eerily similar to the way our parents died. It makes me wonder.”

Claire was silent for a moment. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?” she said, her voice low and soft.

“Sure.”

She didn’t even say good-bye. The line just suddenly went dead. About six minutes later the phone rang, and I said, “Hello?”

“It’s Claire. I’m calling you on my cell phone. I didn’t want anyone to overhear me. It’s not that they would care that I’m talking to you. It just feels . . . personal. I don’t want Hannah’s business turned into office gossip.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that Hannah was acting strange for about a week before she was killed. I asked her several times if she was okay, but she wouldn’t talk to me about it. And then the day she died, something really weird happened.”

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“Yes. Someone sent her flowers and she freaked out. Her face went white and she looked like she was about to pass out. She told our boss, Mr. Kennedy, that she was sick and needed to go home. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me. I felt like she wanted to, but she was just too afraid. That was the last time I ever saw her. She was killed that night.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Claire, were the flowers white orchids?”

Another pause. “How did you know that? Does it mean something to you?”

I felt as if the air had been sucked out of my lungs. “Yes, it does. Did you tell the police about the flowers?”

“Yes. I told them twice.”

“What do you mean . . . twice?”

She cleared her throat. I could tell she was nervous. “The first time was when the police came here not long after the murder. The second time was a couple of weeks later. A detective came by asking questions.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Yes, I do. He gave me his card in case I remembered anything else that might help him. I’ve still got it on my desk. Detective Doug Sykes. Nice guy. Seemed very interested in the flowers.”

“Can you tell me what kind of questions he asked you? Is there anything about your conversation that sticks out in your memory?”

“He asked a lot of the same things the police asked originally, but his questions were more detailed. He wanted to know what happened to the flowers. And he asked whether there was anyone new in Hannah’s life.”

“And was there?”

“Yes. I never saw his face, just his car. He picked her up for lunch a couple of times. She always seemed upset when she came back. I don’t think she wanted anything to do with him.”

“Did she ever mention his name?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“I’m not sure, Sarah. Guess I’m not a car person. It was big and gray. Fancy. Like a Cadillac, but I don’t think it was.”

“Would anyone else have noticed this car?”

“I doubt it. He picked her up across the street. Never came in. Never got out. I only looked because I was curious.”

“Claire, does the name John Smith mean anything to you?”

“No, but Hannah didn’t share her life outside of work. I wish I could tell you more.”

“She called you a couple of times during the week she died. Can you tell me why?”

“Sure. One day she called in sick. She and Cicely both had the flu, and the other call came about an hour after she left work that last day. She apologized for running out, but she wouldn’t tell me why she was so upset.”

“Thanks, Claire. You’ve really helped quite a bit. If I have more questions, is it okay if I call you?”

“Of course. Anytime. Hannah was really a sweet woman. I know how excited she was about finding you again.”

“She talked to you about me?”

“Yes. Even though she was a very private person, she told me how happy she was to have you in her life. We had lunch together a couple of weeks before she died. You were her hero, you know.”

“Wh-what? Did you say ‘hero’?”

“Yes. Hannah said she’d always wanted to be just like you. She not only loved you, Sarah, she admired you very much.”

I mumbled my thanks and hung up the phone.

“Hannah said she’d always wanted to be just like you.” Claire’s voice echoed in my head. I’d spent most of my life wishing I were more like my sister, and she’d wanted to be more like me? I couldn’t believe it. “I’m sorry, God,” I said softly. “No more comparing. I’m done.”

I felt as if a burden lifted from me, but I recognized it was up to me not to allow those kinds of thoughts to take root in my mind again. I’d programmed my thinking in the wrong way for so long, it could take a while for me to head in a more positive direction.

I forced myself to redirect my thoughts toward Hannah and the flowers she received. Wasn’t this proof that her murder was planned? There was nothing random about it. Someone had sent those flowers the day she died. Why hadn’t the police picked up on this? It seemed obvious to me. Did this have anything to do with what Detective Sykes wanted to tell me?

There were so many thoughts and questions dancing in my head, I felt it would explode. I’d just decided to take an aspirin for the headache that began to tickle my temples when the phone rang. It was Paul.

“I’m here with Mike,” he said as soon as I said hello. “We’re getting ready to head your way. We’ll try to get there between six and seven. Sorry I can’t nail down the time better. With the roads the way they are, we’ll have to drive slower than normal. Is that okay?”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Mike and I are both used to snow and ice. We’ll be fine.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds great. I have so much to tell you. I hit the jackpot today.”

Paul put his hand over the receiver and said something. I could hear another voice in the background. It was obviously Mike. The men seemed to have hit it off, and I felt relieved.

“Great,” Paul said suddenly. “We’ll see you later.”

I said good-bye and put the phone down. Checking the time, I discovered it was already after four o’clock. I wanted to get everything written down and organized so I wouldn’t leave out anything important. Would Paul be as excited as I was about the flowers?

After running downstairs and telling Janet and Cicely that Mike and Paul were definitely coming for dinner, I went to work compiling all the information on paper. I finished at about 5:45 and spent the next thirty minutes trying to look presentable. I finally decided on a tan skirt with a white pullover. I pinned my hair up but let several tendrils fall around my face. It was like a messy bun, but the look was soft and feminine. I applied some foundation, blush, mascara, and light lipstick. I’d just started to put my makeup away when I heard Cicely say, “You need some eyeliner too.”

She startled me, and I almost dropped my makeup bag. “You scared me,” I said, followed by a little nervous laughter.

Cicely smiled at me. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Aunt Sarah. You shouldn’t feel funny about wearing makeup.”

“I guess it seems . . . I don’t know . . . vain somehow.”

She walked over to me and took the bag from my hand. “Do you think my mom was vain?”

I shook my head. “No, sweetheart. Not at all. But your mom and I were different.”

“You’re not that different. Sometimes when you say or do something, it’s just like Mom is standing right in front of me.”

I felt my eyes fill with tears.

“Don’t cry or I won’t be able to get the liner on.”

She opened the bag and looked through it. “Look, you have a pencil. Why don’t you use it?”

I smiled at her. “Do you know where I got this makeup?”

She shook her head.

“Your mom gave it to me for my birthday.”

Cicely’s eyes widened. “That’s right. I remember now.”

“I haven’t used it much, but I think I’m ready now.”

She nodded and told me to sit down. “Keep your eyes open and look up.” I did as she requested and felt a little tickle under both eyes. “Now look down and don’t move.” I could feel the pencil gliding across my upper lids. “Don’t move yet.” She reached back into the bag and took out the mascara I’d used so sparingly. I started to protest, but she swiped my eyelashes several times before I had a chance to say anything. Then she put the liner and the mascara back in the bag. “Now look,” she said with a big smile on her face.

“Oh my goodness!” I couldn’t believe the woman I saw in the mirror was me. The liner made my eyes look so much larger.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

Cicely smiled. “I watched Mom for years. Sometimes for fun, she’d put makeup on me. Just to teach me how to do it when I was older.”

“You did a great job, Cicely. Thank you.”

She reached out to touch my face lightly. “You’re so pretty, Aunt Sarah. I hope I look like you when I’m your age.”

I was so stunned, it took a moment for me to respond. “I’d think you’d want to look like your mother. Why would you want to look like me?”

She frowned at me as if she didn’t understand. “I look more like your daughter than Mom’s. She even said that. She liked my red hair because I reminded her of you. She loved you a lot.”

I tried to push back the emotions that flooded me, but I wasn’t successful. “Hannah said she’d always wanted to be just like you.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Aunt Sarah,” Cicely said, her expression full of concern.

“It’s okay, honey. Knowing your mom felt that way means a lot to me.”

She didn’t respond, but I could tell by the look on her face that she was pleased. After she left I checked out my image in the mirror again. I looked good, and I felt good too.

“The world won’t end if I wear a little makeup,” I whispered to my reflection. Why had I avoided it for so long? Maybe I wasn’t a model, and perhaps I’d never be as striking as Hannah, but suddenly it didn’t matter.

I was on my way downstairs when I heard the doorbell. By the time I got downstairs, Janet had opened the front door, and Paul and Mike were standing in the living room.

“Sorry about the snow,” Paul said apologetically, staring down at his boots.

“Not a problem,” Janet said with a smile. “I put a mat down. Just wipe your feet and give me your coats. I’ll hang them up in the laundry room so they can dry out.”

Paul’s eyes widened when he saw me, and he smiled. “You look very nice.”

I returned his smile. “Thank you. How were the roads?”

“We didn’t have much trouble getting here. Mike’s SUV drives better than mine. Even with snow chains.”

“I’m glad you made it,” I said.

Cicely came down the stairs behind me, and Paul greeted her. Since she’d stayed in her room when Mike was here the last time, I introduced them.

“Very nice to meet you, Cicely,” Mike said. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She dabbed at her cheeks with her hand and turned away. It was obvious she was still very emotional after reading Hannah’s Facebook message.

I could tell by the look on Mike’s face that Cicely’s reaction had touched him.

“Dinner’s ready,” Janet said. “I made some coffee to help warm you up.”

“That’s exactly what I need right now,” Mike said with a smile. “Thank you.”

We followed her into the dining room. She’d already set the table and put out several side dishes of food, along with a large carafe of coffee. She went into the kitchen and came out a few seconds later carrying a huge bowl of beef stew.

“I should have helped you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a smile. “You were busy. Besides, you know I love cooking for people. I’m so happy to have a full table.”

“It’s good of you to ask me over,” Mike said.

He seemed a little different tonight. Quieter. More introspective. I wondered why.

After Janet said the blessing, we started eating. Eventually the conversation turned to families. Paul told a funny story about his childhood, so I felt it gave me an opening to ask Mike about himself.

“You’ve never mentioned a family, Mike,” I said. “Are you married?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. My wife divorced me about five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It happens. I’m not happy about it, but I’ve come to terms with the situation.”

“What about children?” Janet asked.

He nodded. “A daughter. Just about Cicely’s age.” He flashed a quick smile at my niece, who shyly returned his smile.

“What’s her name?” Cicely asked.

“Kaitlin.”

“A beautiful name,” I said. “Does she live near you?”

He shook his head. “No. Kaitlin and her mother live in Tennessee. I don’t get to see her much. This year I’m going for Christmas. I’ll get to spend a few days with her, and I’m really looking forward to it.”

It was clear that Mike missed his daughter. Seeing the big man’s vulnerable side made him seem more human. Paul appeared relaxed around him. I had to wonder if he was ready to share everything we’d discovered with Mike. Time would tell.

We finished dinner and Janet announced she’d made a cheesecake for dessert. “Cicely and I will take our dessert upstairs,” she said. “You all can carry yours into the living room or stay here at the dining room table. What would work best?”

I looked at Paul.

“Could we stay at the table?” he asked. “That way we have more room to work.”

I nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“Come on, Cicely,” Janet said. “Why don’t you help me serve the cheesecake, and then you and I will go upstairs. I need a Scrabble rematch. You beat me pretty badly this afternoon.”

Cicely smiled. “That would be awesome.”

I winked at Janet. I was certain she’d allowed Cicely to win. She was great at Scrabble.

After the three of us got cheesecake and fresh coffee, Janet and Cicely said their good-nights and went upstairs. Sure enough, Paul asked me to get all my papers, along with any notes I needed. I went up and gathered everything I’d put together in a folder and went back downstairs. Paul and Mike were talking in hushed tones when I came into the room.

“I was telling Mike about the phone and your discovery concerning John Smith,” Paul said as I sat down. “This is the best lead we’ve had.”

“Did you check out the numbers I gave you?” I asked.

Paul nodded. “The number for JR isn’t working. It was a burner phone. No way to trace it.”

“What’s a burner phone?” I asked.

“It’s a prepaid phone,” Mike said. “A cheap, disposable phone that can be purchased in any store. Since it’s not connected to any particular phone service, there’s no way to track it.”

“Some drug dealers use them,” Paul said.

I frowned. “Why would Hannah have the number of a drug dealer?”

Paul shook his head. “Burner phones are used for all kinds of reasons, Sarah. Sometimes it’s just because the user can’t afford another kind of phone.”

“And what about the number for John Smith?”

“That number was a landline,” Paul said. “And it belonged to a John Smith. But he’s moved, and there was nothing indicating he has a new number.”

“You let me take care of that,” Mike said. “As a PI I have resources you don’t have, Paul.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Paul replied. “And I probably don’t want to know about most of them.”

Mike laughed. “You’d be correct about that.”

“So after Hannah is killed, this John Smith moves? That’s rather suspicious, isn’t it?”

Mike nodded. “Very suspicious. That’s why we need to find him. It’s too bad he was Martin Summers’s only survivor. We probably could have found him through his family.”

Paul looked at me. “Did you call Claire Freeman?”

“Yes, I did. And it was very interesting.” Paul’s mouth dropped open when I told him about the flowers. “That’s not all,” I said. “Some guy Claire hadn’t seen before started showing up at work to see Hannah a few days before she died. Unfortunately Claire never saw his face.”

Paul drummed his fingers on the table as he thought. “So we know that Hannah was upset about something. The man who showed up at work was probably connected to whatever was going on. But she really panicked when she got the flowers. That’s when she decided to leave.”

“She got the flowers during the day, and she was killed that night,” I said. “The same day she wrote me the letter. Doesn’t this ruin the theory that Hannah was killed by a burglar looking for drugs or money? Whoever sent the flowers was obviously targeting her. He planned to kill her.”

“It looks that way to me,” Paul said. “I’m still confused why the police didn’t ask the same questions.”

“Maybe they did,” Mike said. “But in their minds the flowers don’t have to be from the killer. Hannah could have gotten the flowers from anyone, and a stranger still could have killed her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I fumed. “It seems clear to me.” I was disappointed in Mike’s reaction. I thought the flowers were the smoking gun we’d been looking for.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Paul said, frowning. “You told me Cicely didn’t see any flowers at the house the night her mother died.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“But they had to be there.”

“Wait a minute,” I said slowly. “I think I might be able to explain that. When I was inside Hannah’s house, I found a white orchid lying on the floor in her bedroom. What if she had the flowers in her room?”

“But if she hated them so much, why wouldn’t she just throw them away?” Paul asked. “Why keep them at all? And why put them in her bedroom?”

“Maybe she kept the flowers because she wanted to find out where they came from,” Mike said suddenly. “If I were Hannah, I’d contact the florist and see who bought them.” He looked at me. “I read Hannah’s file. There wasn’t anything that identified the florist. You didn’t see anything in Hannah’s room that might give us a clue about that, did you?”

I shook my head. “I’ll call Claire again and ask her about the company that delivered them.” I sighed. “Sorry. I was just so excited about what she told me, I didn’t think of it.”

“You’ve done a great job,” Paul said soothingly. “Now we need to find out how all these clues go together.”

I pulled the newspaper articles out from the stack of papers on the table. “Here’s the article about the murders of Martin Lewis Summers and his wife, Elise. Obviously, Hannah saw similarities between these murders and our parents’ murders and contacted Mr. Smith. I think he might be the man who showed up at Claire’s office. We know he called Hannah several times. And we also know that Cicely met him. His stepmother worked at the same newspaper where my mom worked, but it’s a big place. Mom was a secretary, and according to the obituary, Elise Summers was a reporter, just like the woman who gave Hannah the file. They didn’t work in the same department, so I’m not sure how they were linked. Mr. and Mrs. Summers were killed in almost the same way my parents were. Stabbed. It was called a burglary too. But in their case their kids were already grown and out of the house, so they were alone when they were attacked.”

“Well, I think I have all the information I need for now,” Mike said, standing up. “My job is to look for John Smith.” He pointed at me. “You find out from Claire what flower shop sent the flowers.”

“Isn’t it possible the police already know this?” Paul asked.

Mike nodded. “Sure. But remember, they’ve basically closed this case. I’m afraid they never took Sarah’s initial claim about the flowers seriously.”

“Doug did,” I said.

Mike shrugged. “He wasn’t totally convinced either, Sarah. But he thought the coincidence should be investigated.”

I felt a rush of anger. “Excuse me, but someone sent them to her. She had them. That’s an important clue. Someone was sending a message. Someone was planning a murder.”

“Slow down,” Mike said. “I realize that. I’m just trying to show you how the police think.”

“I’m sorry, Mike. It’s just that sometimes it seems that no matter what we learn, it doesn’t get us any closer to the truth.”

“Let’s hope that’s going to turn around,” Paul said. “I’m not willing to give up.”

“Nor am I,” Mike said. “We’ll just keep going until we find out what really happened. Okay?”

I nodded. “Mike, do you know a Captain Bentley with the Kansas City Police Department?”

“I know who he is, but I never had much contact with him. He and I started on the force about the same time, I think. Almost twenty-five years ago.”

“He was really nice to me while I was in Kansas City. Said if Cicely and I needed anything we should contact him. What about bringing him in on what we’re doing?”

Mike shook his head. “Absolutely not. Anson Bentley bleeds blue. If he thought anyone was working on his case behind his back, he’d be all over us. Besides, he might be the one who closed your sister’s case. We can’t be sure.”

I nodded. The veins on Mike’s neck stood out. Hearing Captain Bentley’s name had certainly caused a reaction.

Paul told me that he’d call me tomorrow and they left, leaving me feeling oddly unsettled. Why had Mike reacted so violently when I brought up Captain Bentley? I packed up all the pages on the table and took them upstairs.

As I lay in bed that night, I could almost hear Hannah’s voice warning me to be careful.