Mummified Meringues (10 page)

The Desert of Maine?
 

Lexy’s heart pinched as she wondered if the reason her parents were still there was because they were having fun or because their RV broke and they couldn’t go anywhere else. Judging by the picture, it didn’t look like there was enough of anything to keep their interest for more than one day.

The best thing she could do to help them was to solve the case, so she let her thoughts turn toward what she’d learned from Sam.

Both Sam and Tom had said the basement renovator, Bobby Nesbaum, would have been the one do the wall treatment, but if Nesbaum had made a secret room and hidden a body in the basement, wouldn’t Tom have noticed? Maybe the two of them were in on it together? Or, maybe Tom also knew how to put that cement on the walls and did it as a quick patch to hide the body. Maybe his plan all along was to frame Bobby if anyone discovered it.

By the time Lexy arrived at the bakery, her mind was whirling. She decided to focus on baking and filling the bakery cases. The day’s rush of customers had made a big dent in the baked goods on display and she was happy to fill in the empty spaces with fresh-baked cookies, brownies and muffins.

She was bent over at the waist, her head inside the case, rearranging a plate of brownies when a familiar pair of blue-jean clad legs appeared on the other side of the glass front. Jack.

What was he doing here?
 

Lexy’s stomach fluttered. Jack didn’t usually visit her at the bakery unless it was something important. She pulled her head out of the case and stood, looking up at him from her five-foot-four high-heeled height.

“Hi.” Jack smiled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Ida called and said to meet here and go over the clues. I just closed a case so I got off early today.”

“Oh.” Ida had called? Lexy pulled her phone out of the pocket of her apron and noticed she had a message from Ida.
 

Jack leaned against the case. “So, how did your meeting at the pub go?”

 
“Not that good … I’ll fill you in when the others are here.”

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing Nans, Ruth, Ida and Helen. They made a beeline for the pastry case.

“Hi, there.” The ladies murmured greetings and then got busy picking out pastries. Ruth chose a lemon tartlet, Helen, a brownie piled high with chocolate frosting, Nans, a fig square and Ida, a frosted chocolate cupcake top. Lexy noticed with dismay that none of them chose a meringue cookie.

They pulled two tables together and arranged the chairs around them. Then with pastries on napkins and steaming mugs of coffee and tea in front of them, they turn their attention to Nans.

“What?” Nans blinked.
 

“Well, aren’t you going to start off?” Ida asked.

Nans broke off a piece of her fig square and paused with it in front of her mouth. “I don’t know anything new, actually. Lexy and I went to the McDonalds’ and they don’t remember what their basement looked like so we couldn’t say if Tom O’Keefe was telling the truth or not.”

“What about his finances?” Jack asked.

“He did get some large sums of money that summer … but it turns out that wasn’t unusual,” Helen said.

“We figure being a builder and all, he was probably transferring large sums between business and personal accounts all the time,” Ruth added.

“He could have hidden the payoff and made it look like business.” Ida’s blue eyes sparkled at them over the rim of her teacup.

Jack narrowed his eyes at Helen and Ruth. “And just how do you ladies get this personal financial information? That stuff’s not available to the general public.”

Ruth’s face turned pink and she waved her hand. “Oh, we have our ways.”

Jack turned to Lexy. “What about your visit to the bar?”

“Sam didn’t remember a lot. I mean, it
was
a long time ago. But he did remember Tom buying a couple of rounds for the entire bar one night. No one had ever done that before so it was memorable.”

“Did Tom say why?” Ida asked.

“Sam said Tom had gotten a big contract to build some houses.”

“And when was this?” Helen wiped chocolate frosting from her lips, then took another bite of the brownie.

“That’s the thing. Sam didn’t know. All he could remember was that it was in summer, because everyone was wearing t-shirts.”

Jack looked skeptical. “You wouldn’t think he’d want to advertise coming into a lot of money if he got a payoff to hide a body, though.”

“Sam also said the same thing Tom did about the basement walls—Tom O’Keefe didn’t finish them like that. He left the basements raw cinderblock.”

“So, maybe Tom
was
telling the truth,” Nans ventured.

“I’m sure Tom O’Keefe knows how to apply that cement coating to the walls. He’s in the trade so he probably knows how to do a lot of things.” Ida leaned forward. “He might even have done it on purpose to implicate Bobby Nesbaum if he was discovered.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lexy said. Ida held her cup up and the two of them clinked rims.

“I’m sure it must have happened before the house was sold, so it must have been the builder,” Ruth said.

“No matter what, we should check out this basement refinisher guy.” Ida turned to Nans. “Mona, did you say he was dead?”

Nans looked up from the fig square she’d been pushing around her plate. “I … well … I think—

Just then, the door burst open and Watson Davies strode in, her blue eyes glaring at them. Her black biker boots clomped on the floor as she took two large strides over to the table.

“Good news, Jack.” She stood with her feet apart, hands on hips, head tilted to the side looking down at Jack. Lexy thought her expression didn’t look like that of one poised to impart ‘good’ news.

“Oh?” Jack looked up at her, his left brow ticking upwards a fraction of an inch.

“Yep, you’re cleared off the suspect list. The M.E. pinpointed the time of death and it was quite some time before you bought the house.”

Ida’s brows shot up. “When was it?”

“August thirteenth, 1955.”

“What? That’s almost five years after the McDonalds moved in!” Ruth stared at Davies, then looked around the table at the rest of them.

“Wait a minute—they can pinpoint it down to the day?” Nans asked.

“Yes. And not only that, but we also know
who
the mummy is … er … was,” Davies replied.

“Who?” Jack, Lexy, Ruth, Ida and Helen all asked at once.

“Earl Schute.”

“Never heard of him.” Ida said. “You know him, Mona?”

Nans pressed her lips together. “Schute … it sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It should,” Davies tilted her head toward Nans. “Back in 1955, Earl Schute lived in the house right next door to you.”

***

Silence descended on the bakery as they all stared at a red-faced Nans.

“Oh, well, now that you mention it, I guess I do remember him,” Nans said sheepishly. “He didn’t live there long, though, so I guess I didn’t recognize the name right off.”

“No, he didn’t live there long.” Davies agreed. “Because he was murdered. And it makes me wonder why no one in the neighborhood ever reported him missing.”

Nans shrugged. “He kept to himself. We didn’t see him a lot, so I guess no one noticed. I guess we just thought he moved away.”

“So, what about my house? Can we go back in?” Jack asked.

“Not yet. We’re still collecting evidence. “Lexy wilted as Davies speared her with a steely glare. “A task that would be easier if your dog hadn’t run in and contaminated the crime scene.”

Lexy grimaced. “Sorry.”
 

Images of the receipt from
The Elms Pub
sprang to mind—maybe Sprinkles
had
gotten the receipt from the mummy. Should she tell Davies? Lexy glanced at the stern detective and figured she was better off not mentioning it unless she was positive it was a clue.
 

“So anyway, tell me about these McDonald characters,” Davies was saying.

“Surely, you don’t suspect them?” Nans sounded outraged.

“Of course I do. We found a dead body in their basement.”

“Well … I’m sure it wasn’t them,” Nans sputtered. “I mean, they’re the nicest people, right Lexy?”

“They do seem very nice,” Lexy replied.

“Right. That’s what a lot of people say about killers.” Davies produced a notepad from her back pocket and a pen from her front. Poising the pen over the pad, she asked; “Do you know where I can find them?”

Lexy rattled off the address. “But I’ve already talked to them and they don’t know a thing about it.”

“Playing detective again?” Davies asked, then turned to Nans. “What about you, Mona?”

“I’m not playing detective,” Nans bristled. “Got too much else going on.”

“Well, no matter. I’ll have a little chat with them myself. I’m going to get to the bottom of this and find out what,
exactly,
went on in that neighborhood in the summer of 1955.” Davies cast a suspicious glance at Nans, pivoted on her booted heel and left.

Chapter Eleven

“Well, how do you like them apples,” Ida turned to Nans. “Mona, tell us all about this Earl guy. Who would want to kill him?”

“Obviously, the McDonalds did it,” Ruth cut in.

Nans shook her head. “Not necessarily.”

“Really?” Ruth screwed up her face at Nans. “The body was in their basement, so they must have done it or been a party to it.”

“Not if they weren’t home at the time.” Nans picked her giant purse up from the floor and put it in her lap. Snapping open the clasp, she plunged her hand into the cavernous opening.

“You expect us to believe someone broke into their house and hid the body, then redid their basement while they were out to dinner?”

“Of course not,” Nans retorted as she rummaged inside the purse. “No one could do that in one night. But now that we know the exact date, I seem to recall that was the summer the McDonalds went to Europe. They were gone for a whole month.”

“Wouldn’t they have noticed that someone redid their basement when they got home?” Helen asked.

“That’s the thing. They were having the basement redone that summer. That was one of the reasons they planned the trip—it was perfect timing to get away from the construction.” Nans shrugged. “Someone could have used that as a convenient way to hide the body.”

“This still doesn’t add up,” Jack cut in. “Even if the McDonalds were in Europe, one of the neighbors would have noticed something.”
 

‘That’s right,” Ida said. “Surely, it would smell. Did you notice anything funny over there, Mona? Any odd activity or a funny smell?”
 

“No, but I wouldn’t have, because that summer was when the Fergusons’ toddler flushed Lego’s down the toilet and their septic system backed up all over the back yard.” Nans wrinkled her nose. “Boy, did that create a stench. The whole neighborhood walked around holding their noses for weeks.”

“Would that cover the smell of a dead body?” Lexy asked Jack.

Jack nodded. “And even if it didn’t, who would be able to differentiate?”

“So, I guess this puts Tommy O’Keefe in the clear,” Ruth said.

“But implicates Bobby Nesbaum,” Helen added.

“Or the stranger,” Nans cut in.

“Stranger?” Ida, Ruth, Helen and Jack looked at Nans.

Nans nodded. “Yeah, you remember we talked about that at the McDonalds’, Lexy?”

Lexy did remember them mentioning it. “But how would a stranger know the McDonalds were away and how would they gain access to the basement?”

“Not to mention, how would they make the secret room and close it up without Bobby Nesbaum noticing,” Jack added.

“Well, it seems all fingers point to Nesbaum.” Ruth pulled her purse off the back of her chair and rummaged inside, pulling out an iPad, which she placed on the table in front of her.

“Either it was him or he was in cahoots with someone,” Helen offered.

“Someone who knew the McDonalds were gone,” Lexy said.

“And who would know that?” Ruth asked.

Ida snapped her fingers. “The other neighbors!”

“That’s right. And a lot of them still live in the neighborhood. I’ll talk to some of them tonight when I get home. Do you want to come with me, Nans?” Lexy turned to Nans, who stood there with her cell phone in her hand.

“What?” Nans glanced up from the cell phone display. “Sorry, I have some stuff going on tonight and right now I have to warn the McDonalds that Davies is coming!”

Ida stared after Nans who had walked to the other side of the bakery to make her phone call, then turned back to the group at the table. “Never mind her—we need to divvy up the assignments.”

“Right,” Helen said and they all leaned forward.

“What do you suggest, Jack?” Ida asked.

Jack shrugged. “Well, I guess I’d check out this Nesbaum character, first of all.”

“If he’s even still alive. I believe Mona said he had passed on,” Helen mumbled around the last bite of her brownie.