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”Honey, I’m leaving,” Aaron whispered, standing over me. “Time to get up.”
“Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize the time,” I said. He kissed me, and then moved to the door. “I’ll come as soon as possible. Text me.”
“Of course. I left the bagels out and cream cheese. Coffee’s made,” Aaron said, then continued on his way.
“Good luck!” I jumped from the bed and dressed, sliding into a long sleeved shirt and jeans plus knee-hi length socks. I grabbed a sweatshirt and found a heavier pair of socks to have ready for later.
In the kitchen, I’d just finished my meal when there was a knock on the door. I swiped my mouth with the nearest napkin before going to open the front door.
“Good morning,” I cheerfully greeted Detectives Erlandsen and Mergens with Harris shuffling in right behind them. “Coffee?” I filled mugs for all and refreshed mine.
“Let’s sit at the kitchen table and discuss all of this first. We need to be brought up to speed, especially after last night,” Erlandsen stated. He reached for his notebook, and so did Mergens. “Right from the top, Liv.”
“We stayed out here in the kitchen almost all night. As you can see, the monitor is still on. I would’ve known if the killer had logged back in.” I glanced at each of them. “How do we know we have the right person?”
“Right here.” Harris shoved a stapled stack of pages toward me. “This says it all.” He cleared his throat. “Read through it, and then we’ll discuss it.”
“Okay.” I reached for the few pages and began reading. My mouth dropped open as I read each message:
Chun-money coming soon.
Impersonator shouldn’t have fought back. Her fault she’s dead. Speech saved for not-too-bright Tad. Positive.
Ripped bear. Family tree on rear end? Don’t understand.
Masonic symbols? Pentacle? Birth of Jesus? No. Can’t be. G? God? I don’t understand. Must follow Liv. Only way to find speech.
Speech worth much. Lost Speech? Plenty money to do what’s necessary. I looked for a hidden compartment, but couldn’t find one.
“The messages explain it all, don’t they? This has to be the killer, but who?” I slid the sheets back across the table to the detective. “The motive is loud and clear, just like what we thought. Money and greed.”
“Now the question is how to flush him out.” Mergens subconsciously reached up to his cigarettes but quickly dropped his hand. “Any suggestions?”
“I’m putting a different tracer on the computer.” Harris scooted over to it and began clicking. “We’ll get him, don’t worry.” “I would hope so,” Erlandsen said. “He needs to be caught.”
“We should send out some kind of message like, ‘I might know where it’s located. I’ve got a bit more research to do; then I’ll know.’” My mind was filled with ideas. “We can send the message to the Mary Todd Lincoln House. That would make it seem more
official,” I added. “Also, there’s the Presidential Library.”
“That’s a great idea, but we do have to discuss all of this with our lieutenant,” Mergens said, taking notes. “If we can send the decoy messages today, we’ll be able to monitor the hacker’s response tonight.”
“Fine by me.” I glanced at them. “So we know it’s the right man. Let’s trick him into believing we truly have found the speech.”
“How? We don’t know what was said,” Erlandsen asked. “It’s easy,” Mergens said. “All we need is a handwriting expert
to write the first transcribed lines out on some old-looking paper. When it’s ready, we’ll place it in the hidden pocket of the desk.”
“Hmm. The culprit’s already searched through the desk, though,” I said, scratching my scalp. “However, we didn’t find the hidden compartment right away, either. It had been painted over with stain, and Aaron had to pry it open. We could barely see the seam in the boards.”
“So?” Mergens said. “It’ll work. I’m positive.”
“We’ll get back to you.” Erlandsen looked at me. “This is dangerous, so please be careful.”
“I’m going to Lake Nokomis to watch Aaron play pond hockey.
I’ll probably stop in the store on my way home.” “Good luck to Aaron’s team,” Mergens said. “Ditto,” Erlandsen said.
Both detectives stood and walked to the doorway. “We’ll be in touch.”
I looked back to Harris, frowning. “Ready?”
“Almost done.” Harris made a few notes in his notebook and pressed a couple keys. “Liv? Come here.” I stood behind him, and he said, “Use this username and password. Make sure you enter them exactly as shown. If all goes as planned and you catch the hacker at work when you’re online, call me immediately. It’s programmed to play, Three Blind Mice, really loud, when he logs back in.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, giving him a wry grin. “Can you write down the username and password, just to make sure we key it in correctly? ”
“Will do.” Harris did as requested and ripped the sheet from his notepad. “I’ll leave it right here.” He placed it on the table.
“Thanks bunches.”
“Oh, and by the way, don’t check your e-mail accounts until I tell you to.”
“I can do a search though, can’t I?”
“That’ll work. But keep it simple and on target. Let’s not do anything different from what you’ve already begun.”
Harris stood up and I walked him to the door.
The little tune that he’d installed was fitting. Like blind mice, we were all heading into uncharted waters. I sent a text to Aaron. He responded that the game was running late because the first team started later than scheduled. It gave me about ten extra minutes.
I sat at the computer and did a Google search for Lincoln’s birthplace again and waited as the screen filled with a list of sites. I pressed a link to the Sinking Spring Farm, where the famed log cabin was located. Then I scanned several of the sites for mention of the Burr Oak. If Mary had visited the town, she would’ve stayed near the birthplace since there were so many Southerners in the area. Continuing with the theory that “if there’s a will, there’s a way,” she would’ve found a way to hide the speech on the main property. The Burr Oak tree or a niche in one of the cabin logs were the two main theories I held to.
The reconstructed cabin looked as the original had. A memorial building surrounded it like an envelope. Since the logs weren’t original, I decided to forget the cabin.
Not much was written about the Burr Oak, except that it served as a landmark for folks going west. Travelers found fresh, clean water to drink because of a nearby, flowing spring. But that didn’t answer my questions. Contact information was readily available, so I jotted the phone number down to call later. Aaron texted to tell me the plows had to push new snow from the rink. His team was being moved to the “little” beach.
After acknowledging the message, I told him my plans to make a call to Kentucky to further investigate the Burr Oak tree.
I keyed the Kentucky phone number into my cell phone and waited for a park ranger to answer. “Hello. I’m curious about the famous Burr Oak. Is it still standing?”
“No. It had to be cut down a few years ago because it had become a safety hazard. We kept it standing for as long as possible. Dirty shame, isn’t it?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” I frowned. “Thank you. By the way, can you tell me if the Masonic Lodge there is the same building that was standing during the Civil War days?”
“Not positive about that, but I think it is. It’s an old building, but they’ve remodeled it.”
“How?” I prayed that none of the interior walls had been altered.
“Updated plumbing. Wiring. That sort of thing.”
My heart leapt. “It was gutted?” I asked. “Oh, no. Just the basic repair jobs.”
“Thanks. Thanks bunches,” I said before disconnecting. I’m almost to the end.
A two-year-old couldn’t be any happier with a new toy. “That’s it! That’s the place! If it’s to be found, that’s where the
speech is—I’m sure of it!” I said out loud.
My thoughts jumped to the evidence as I chased for the sweatshirt and heavy socks. While putting them on along with heavier outerwear, the memory stick came to mind. We couldn’t connect this person to Max’s unwarranted attack, nor to the break-in at Inga’s. That person was a monster.
And how did the woman end up in the dumpster?
I grabbed my keys and headed into the garage. The door lifted open, and I backed out into the street. Immediately, the kid next door pummeled the car with snowballs. I put the car in park, climbed out, snatched up snow, packed it good and hard, then sailed it over to him—hitting him square in his back. Before he had time to retaliate, I jumped into the car and continued on my way.
Since Lake Nokomis, in South Minneapolis, was where I took swimming lessons as a child, I wanted to take a memory lane drive. I passed over the Hennepin Avenue Bridge and kept going until reaching Washington Avenue. The road turned, but I followed the signs for Cedar Avenue. Upon reaching the Minnehaha Parkway, I followed it until turning toward the little beach. Cars lined the parkway and up into the neighborhood. I ended up parking near an ice cream shop on Twenty-Eighth Avenue. I texted Maggie to find out where she was. She responded that they had just started playing and she’d meet me where we used to hang out. I sent: ok.
It took a few minutes, but we finally located each other. Fortunately, Aaron’s team had been on the ice for just a few minutes. The temperatures were climbing, and the local thermometer told me we were in a heatwave—it was sixteen degrees, warm for our Januarys.
“Look at them! How can they move with all that equipment and skate on this ice? It’s rough,” I said. “I’m glad you thought of lawn chairs.”
“No problem. Now we can try to wrap ourselves up with this blanket. Our guys have enough padding,” Maggie said, watching them skate. “A little wobbly.” She put the blankets across our laps. “We’ve got ourselves two jocks.” There was a vendor nearby.
“I’m going for hot chocolate,” I said. “Want a cup?” “Sure.”
“Be right back.”
I purchased two cups of cocoa. We covered ourselves up again and enjoyed watching and cheering.
“We’ll have to rent a sailboat next summer again, like we did last year. That was a fun day,” I said.
“Yes, only let’s get a larger one—it makes for a bigger party,” Maggie said.
“I agree. We only fit four people, and ten is a good number.
Maybe we should get a pontoon up north for a weekend?” “Sounds like a plan,” Maggie said.
“Hey!” I saw Aaron raise his stick to us. Tim was right beside him and did the same.
The game ended in a shoot-out with Aaron’s team losing. At the end, we made arrangements through texting to meet them at Matt’s Bar for a Juicy Lucy burger.
Maggie and I sat opposite in a booth at the bar. Soon the men of the team charged through the doorway. Aaron and Tim were
in the lead. Aaron had saved ten goals, and Tim made the only point for the team.
“Whoo-hoo!” I shouted. “Whooey!” Maggie called.
The other women piped up also. When the burgers arrived, the men joined us.
“You looked good out there, honey,” I said.
“Thank you,” Tim replied, winking. “Oops! You meant that ugly guy beside you.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Maggie said, nudging him.
“I’m going back to watch the games, but I would guess that you ladies are frozen?” Aaron asked.
“Cold and kind of a headache,” Maggie said. She rubbed her temples.
“Frozen solid comes to mind. I’ll just meet you at home,” I said. “You enjoy yourself.”
Maggie and I stayed for a short while, but when the guys left to watch the games, we left for our cars.
“Take care of yourself,” I said, giving Maggie a hug. “Will do,” she said and climbed into her car.
I did the same and followed her out into the traffic, but where she turned toward our old school, I kept on the main road. It was always nice to drive past our high school, Theodore Roosevelt, but this time, I drove past the Swedish Institute and thought about how beautiful it was during the holiday season all lit up like a Christmas tree. The reminiscing brought my thoughts full circle. The murder of Blanche and Dr. Williams, and all that Mary Lincoln lived through, was a tragedy. I was happy to reach home. I parked, and went inside. Once the heavy clothing was shed, I started thumbing through recipe books. The garage door
reopened, and soon Aaron entered.
“Honey, how come you didn’t stay?” I asked.
“I didn’t want you home alone,” Aaron said. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve had enough of worrying. I’m going to look up some recipes.” Maybe researching Mary Lincoln recipes will take my mind off the case for awhile.
“You? Digging up recipes? What is this world coming to?” Aaron playfully knocked the side of his head. “Tell me it isn’t true? Tell me I’m not hallucinating.”
“Hush. I’m onto something. Now be nice,” I chided. “I just thought, well, what the heck. I’ll see what I can find.” There was one food site that featured her infamous cake. Mary Lincoln was known to cook like a master chef all day and invite crowds of people over for dinner. She would prepare several different meats, and no one seemed to care about watching calories in those days. Mary baked plenty of cakes and desserts, and for Mister Lincoln’s morning snack, cornbread. While Mary was considered a Southerner, and Abraham, a symbol of the North, both were gracious hosts, and dinner with the Lincoln’s was a coveted invitation.
“Hmm,” I moaned, a little disgruntled because there wasn’t a particular recipe that struck my fancy. I decided to make a grocery list, adding baking apples for a Civil War recipe called Brown Betty, a forerunner to apple crisp. When the shopping list was completed, I looked over at Aaron. “I think we’ve got it all set and know where to go. We just have to wait until we nab the killer.”
“We really should stay home and wait for the detectives.”
“I know. It makes me nervous to wait. I’m going in to the store tomorrow. It’s making me buggy staying home.”
“Well, we’ll see what we come up with to keep you busy tomorrow.” Aaron reached for my grocery list. “Let’s run to the grocery store to get this stuff. We’ll be back in a flash.”
“Sure.”
Upon our return, I put together the ingredients to concoct the Brown Betty. It took time to bake, but it was delicious. We smiled at each other, tiptoeing around the predominant thoughts that circled our minds.
Eventually Aaron received a message stating Erlandsen and Mergens would soon be dropping by. Just as he clicked out of the message, they appeared at the door.
“We came up with a usable message to use as a decoy,” Erlandsen said, wiping his feet.
“You’re going to like it,” Mergens added, doing the same with his shoes. “May we?”
“Sure.”
Aaron and I followed them into the kitchen. Erlandsen sat down on the stool in front of the computer and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Harris so he can give me the directions.”
I stood directly behind Erlandsen and watched as he followed the directions Harris gave him. After opening the mailbox, he typed in the e-mail addresses for the Presidential Library and the Mary Todd Lincoln House. In the subject line, he entered: Lost Speech location found. The message read:
Dear All,
Through plenty of research, I have finally figured out the whereabouts of the Lost Speech that Mr. Lincoln gave in Bloomington, Il, May 29, 1856.
Isn’t that...
“What?” I asked when he cocked his head at me.
“Would you say, marvelous or wonderful? What word would you use?
“Wonderful.”
He finished the message by typing in wonderful before he added,
Will be in touch. “Is your signature saved in here?”
“Yes, that and my website link are already in place.”
“Okay.” I watched as he hit send. “Tonight, stay nearby and give us a jingle when he logs on, will you?”
“Will do,” I answered. “Both you and Harris?”
“Yes.” The detectives looked at each other and nodded. “We’ve got our handwriting expert copying the lines from the speech that are known onto a sheet of paper, which he’s prepared to look really old and yellowed. We’ll sneak it into the desk sometime tomorrow, if this guy doesn’t bite tonight.”
“I really think this message is going to flush him out,” I said. “I’m glad you guys are as confident as I feel.”
“Let’s see, it’s six now.” Erlandsen rubbed his chin. “We’ll call you about ten to check in.”
“Is the volume turned up high?” Mergens asked. “It should be loud enough to wake them.”
“Right.” Erlandsen made certain it was. “All set.”
With Aaron right beside me, we followed them to the front door where they both said, “We hope this works.”
If it doesn’t, guess who might be next?