Chapter Eighteen
Hannah turned off the highway and onto the access road that ran past the Cozy Cow Dairy. The huge cinderblock building was deserted this time of night and its white paint gleamed in the thousand-watt glow from the security lights that had been installed on poles around the perimeter. The security lights weren’t really necessary. No thief in his right mind would break into a dairy to steal butter or cream vats, but Hannah supposed that Max had gotten a break on his insurance by lighting the place up.
“It’s creepy out here at night.” Andrea’s voice was shaking slightly and Hannah suspected her sister was having second thoughts about demanding to come along. “Doesn’t Max have a night shift?”
“No. There’s nothing to do until the tanker trucks come in from the farms in the morning. Except for his deliverymen, nobody comes in until seven-thirty.”
“I feel silly, dressed like this.” Andrea glanced down at the black pullover sweatshirt and jeans that Hannah had insisted she wear. “Your jeans are too big for me. I had to roll the legs up three times and pin them at the waist. And this hooded sweatshirt smells like it came out of a trash bin. Why did we have to dress up like a couple of cat burglars, anyway? Max’s house is at least a half-mile from the road. There’s no way that anyone will spot us.”
“Sorry, Andrea. My wardrobe isn’t as extensive as yours. That’s all I had that would almost fit you, and I didn’t think you wanted to wear your party dress.”
Andrea let her breath out in a long sigh. “You’re right. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. I keep thinking about how mad Bill’s going to be if we get caught.”
“We won’t. I told you before, if we have to break in, I’ll do it. And if worse comes to worst, you can tell him that you tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“That’ll go over like a lead balloon.” Andrea sighed again, and then she winced as they bumped over a rut in the road. “With all Max’s money, you’d think he’d have his driveway graded once in a while.”
They rode in silence for another minute or so. As they neared Max’s house, Hannah cut her lights and drove the rest of the way by moonlight.
“He must be gone. There aren’t any lights,” Andrea whispered as Hannah pulled up in front of Max’s garage and shut off the engine. “I told you Max wouldn’t be home.”
“I didn’t really expect him to be, but I’m going to ring the doorbell, just in case.”
“What if someone answers?” Andrea sounded scared.
“Who?”
Andrea shivered. “I don’t know. Just someone.”
“Then I’ll think of something to say.” Hannah got out of her Suburban and marched up to the doorbell, wishing she were as confident as she’d sounded. If Max answered the door, she’d have some tall explaining to do. But Max didn’t answer and Hannah walked back with a smile on her face. “Nobody’s there. Come on, Andrea. Let’s check out his garage. We can peek through the windows.”
“How?” Andrea got out of the Suburban to stare up at the high narrow windows that ran in a strip across the top of the garage door. “They’re too high for us to see in.”
“No problem.” Hannah climbed up on the hood of her Suburban and motioned for Andrea to hand her a flashlight. She directed the powerful beam through the narrow strip of windows and what she saw made her gasp in surprise.
“What is it?” Andrea whispered. “What’s in there, Hannah?”
Hannah climbed down, trying not to look as shocked as she felt. “Max’s car is still there.”
“If his car is there, he’s got to be home!” Andrea was so astonished, she forgot to whisper. “Let’s get out of here, Hannah!”
Hannah’s instinct to flee was every bit as powerful as her sister’s, but her sense of duty took over. “We can’t just leave. If Max is inside, he could be sick, or injured, or…even worse.”
Andrea gasped, and Hannah knew she’d understood the reference to “even worse.”
“Don’t be a fool, Hannah. Let’s go get Bill.”
“You go. The keys are in the ignition. I’m going in to check on Max.”
“B-But…” Andrea started to stammer, and Hannah knew she was scared spitless. “I can’t leave you here alone, Hannah. What if Max is dead and his killer is inside?”
“If Max is dead, his killer is long gone. Be reasonable, Andrea. If you killed someone, would you stay in the house with him for two whole days?”
“No,” Andrea admitted. “But I just can’t help feeling that something really bad is going to happen. Remember Charlie Manson?”
“That was California. Just stay here and be a lookout for me. If you see any headlights coming down the driveway, ring Max’s doorbell.”
“No way, Hannah. I don’t want to say here alone.”
“Then come with me.” Hannah knew they were wasting precious time. “Make up your mind, Andrea. I’m going in.”
“I’ll come with you. It’s better than staying out here by myself. How are we going to get in?”
“I don’t know yet.” Hannah stepped back to survey the house. There wasn’t any easy way inside. “I guess I’m going to have to break a window.”
“Don’t do that. Bill says lots of people leave the door that connects their garage to their house open and that’s how burglars get in. Maybe Max left his unlocked.”
“That’s great, but how are we going to get in Max’s garage without a clicker? He’s got an automatic garage-door opener. I saw the hardware when I looked inside.”
“I know how.” Andrea sounded very proud of herself. “I watched Bill do it once, when our clicker didn’t work. He pulled up really hard on the door handle and it slid up a couple of inches, just enough for me to wiggle through. I think we could do it if we lift together.”
“It’s worth a try. Let’s find something to prop it open after we lift it.”
“How about those boxes?” Andrea pointed to the pile of old-fashioned wooden milk boxes that were stacked at the side of Max’s driveway.
“They’ll do.” Hannah walked over to retrieve a milk box. She positioned it next to her foot and then she grasped the handle of the garage door. “Come over here and help me lift. If we can get it open, I’ll kick the milk box under with my foot.”
It took a couple of tries, but they managed to lift the door almost a foot. Hannah propped it open with the milk box and stepped back to eyeball the opening. “It’s pretty small. I don’t think I can get under there.”
“I can.” Andrea sounded frightened, but she managed to give Hannah a grin. “I’m only a size five. Just hand me a flashlight when I get inside.”
Hannah watched as her sister stretched out on the driveway at the corner of the door, where the opening was larger, and began to wiggle through. Andrea hadn’t wanted to break in, but here she was, inching her way inside the dark garage.
“Okay, I’m in.” Andrea stuck her hand out of the opening. “Give me the flashlight.”
Hannah handed her the flashlight and watched the light grow fainter as Andrea moved deeper into the garage. A few moments later, the garage door slid smoothly open and Hannah stepped inside.
“Hannah?” Andrea motioned her over to Max’s car with the beam of her flashlight. “I think you’d better look at this.”
For a minute Hannah didn’t know what her sister was talking about. Max’s new Cadillac looked perfectly all right to her. But then she noticed that there was a see-through garment bag hanging on the hook in the backseat. Two suitcases were standing near the truck, as if someone had planned to stow them inside later, and a briefcase sat open on the passenger seat.
“Max was packing his car, but he didn’t finish.” Andrea gestured toward the suitcases.
“Because something or somebody stopped him,” Hannah stated the obvious conclusion. Max had intended to go to the Buttermakers’ Convention. His suits were hanging in the garment bag, his suitcases were ready to stash in the trunk, and his briefcase was on the seat. “Turn on the garage light, Andrea.”
Once the garage was flooded with light, Hannah walked around the Cadillac and opened the passenger door. She glanced down at Max’s briefcase and took a deep breath. Max’s wallet was inside and she picked it up.
“Do you really think you should snoop through his personal things?”
Hannah turned to give her sister a long, level look. “Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you in Norman’s office.”
Andrea’s cheeks turned a dull red and she snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t say a word as Hannah opened the wallet and counted the bills inside.
“Twelve hundred in cash, his driver’s license, and a folder of credit cards,” Hannah reported.
“Then Max didn’t kill Ron and run away.” Andrea sounded very sure of herself. “He might have left the credit cards and his driver’s license, especially if he was afraid of being traced. But the cash? He would have taken the cash.”
“You’re right.” Hannah flipped through the papers in the briefcase and pulled out an agenda for the Tri-State Buttermakers’ Convention. A line was highlighted in yellow and it read: Opening Address by Maxwell Turner—10 A.M.
“Look at this, Andrea.”
Andrea stared at the highlighted line. “The speech Max didn’t give.”
“I wonder where it is.” Hannah began to frown. “Betty said she worked late Tuesday night, typing it up. She left it on her desk for Max, and it was gone when she came in to work on Wednesday morning.”
Andrea looked puzzled. “It’s not in Max’s briefcase?”
“No. Let’s check out the house.”
Andrea looked as if the last thing she wanted to do was go into Max’s house. “Do we have to?”
“I think we do. Max may have left something behind that’ll give us a clue to where he is.”
“Okay,” Andrea reluctantly agreed. “Do you think we should arm ourselves, just in case?”
“Good idea.” Hannah grabbed a claw hammer from the workbench by the door and handed Andrea a rubber mallet. A hammer and a mallet were no match for a killer with a gun, but she was almost positive that no one was inside. If arming themselves with carpenter’s tools made Andrea feel safer, that was fine with Hannah.
Hannah tried to turn the knob on the connecting door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, great! Max did lock his door. See if his keys are in his Cadillac, will you? I think I noticed them in the ignition.”
Andrea hurried back to the Cadillac and came back with the keys. She handed them to Hannah and watched as her sister unlocked the door.
Hannah stepped into the kitchen, flicked on the light, and jumped slightly as the refrigerator kicked in. “Nice kitchen. I guess Max had a thing for cows.”
Every round handle on the row of kitchen cabinets was painted with black and white patches like a Holstein cow. There was a collection of china cows in various poses on the shelves of the greenhouse window over the sink, and a large painted plate with frolicking cows around the border hung over the stove. There were cow magnets on the refrigerator door, a cow creamer and sugar bowl on the table, and a cow cookie jar sitting on the counter. A farm dog would have gone crazy in Max’s kitchen, trying to round up all the cows.
“It’s a little much for my taste,” Andrea admitted, “but I guess Max had to do something with all the cow things that people gave him. That’s the trouble with collections. Once people know you’re collecting something, they give it to you for every occasion.”
There was a strange burning odor in the kitchen and Hannah noticed that the red light was glowing on the coffeemaker. She reached out to shut it off and realized that the pot was dry, just inky sludge that once had been coffee in the bottom. “Max left the coffee on.”
“Don’t run water in it,” Andrea warned. “I did that once and the carafe cracked.”
Hannah set the glass pot on one of Max’s burners to cool. Then she noticed a thermos on the counter, right next to a dishtowel with happy-looking bovines grazing across its green terrycloth surface. The thermos was empty and its cap was off. “Max must have planned to come back here. He made a pot of coffee so that he could fill his thermos. He probably wanted to take it with him for the drive.”
Andrea looked sick as she stared at the empty thermos, and Hannah knew she was thinking about what might have happened to Max. She grabbed her sister’s arm and propelled her past the cabinets with their cow-painted knobs and into the deserted living room.
Hannah flicked on the lights, but there was no sign that anyone had been here since Max had left early Wednesday morning. She glanced at her sister—that sick look was still on her face—and decided that she’d better do something fast. Andrea’s face was pale, her knees were shaking, and she looked as if she might faint.
“Andrea? I need you to help me out here,” Hannah ordered in the same tone of voice that Delores had used when she’d told them to clean their rooms. “Have you ever been in Max’s house before?”
Andrea blinked once, twice, and then she turned to Hannah. She looked disoriented and more than a little frightened. “What did you say?”
“Have you ever been in Max’s house before?”
Andrea nodded. A little color was beginning to come back to her cheeks, now that Hannah had given her something else to focus on. “Al sent me out with some papers last fall. Max bought some property over in Browerville and Al handled the paperwork for him.”
“Can you remember what the house looked like then?”
“Of course I can. I’m a real estate agent.” Andrea’s voice was less tentative. “Max even gave me a tour. It was right after he fixed it up and I wanted to see it. I thought he might want to put it up for sale later on and move to a bigger place in town.”
Hannah smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you. Just keep your eyes open for anything that looks out of place. How about this room? Does it look the same as it did then?”
Andrea looked around. “Everything’s the same, except for the couch. He used to have a black one with cow pillows on it. See that painting up there over the fireplace? He told me that his mother painted it from an old photograph. That’s Max’s grandfather standing in front of the original dairy.”
“I didn’t know that Max’s mother was an artist.” Hannah stared at the painting. It wasn’t very good.
“Obviously, she wasn’t.” Andrea recovered enough to smile. “It’s from one of those original paint-by-the-number sets. They were very big in the fifties. She mailed in the photograph and they sent back the canvas with little numbers in the spaces so she’d know what color to use. I had all I could do not to tell Max how bad it was.”
Now that Hannah had moved closer, she could see some of the numbers showing through the paint and she doubted that Max’s grandfather had sported a seventeen tattooed on his forehead. “Let’s go through the other rooms. Tell me if you see anything that you don’t remember.”
With Andrea following, Hannah stepped briskly out into the hallway and they proceeded to go through every room in the house. Andrea pointed out new curtains in the den, a slightly different furniture arrangement in Max’s home office, and new wallpaper in the dining room. Max’s bedroom had been painted since Andrea had seen it. He’d changed the color scheme from blue to green, and the guest bedroom had a new braided rug on the floor. Every room had at least one cow in some shape or form.
“How can you remember what everything looked like?” Hannah asked. She was amazed at the amount of information Andrea had remembered from a single tour of Max’s house.
Andrea shrugged modestly. “I’ve always had a good eye. That’s why I could tell when Mother had been in my room. If one tiny thing had been moved, I noticed it.”
“And there isn’t one tiny thing out of place in Max’s house?” Hannah kept talking as they made a full circle and approached the kitchen again. She didn’t want Andrea to think about what might have happened to Max.
“Not that I can see, except…” Andrea stopped by the connecting door that led to the garage and reached up to touch an empty hook by the side of the doorframe. “Wait a minute, Hannah. There’s supposed to be a key right here.”
“What kind of a key?”
Andrea closed her eyes for a moment and then they snapped open again. “A shiny blue metal key on a cow key chain. It was hanging right here when Max showed me his kitchen. The cow was really cute, brown and white with a little—”
“Do you know what the key was for?” Hannah interrupted her sister’s description.
“The dairy. Max said he used it when he walked to work and he didn’t want to carry his whole key ring. He told me he just grabbed that key and his garage-door opener and—” Andrea stopped speaking and turned to Hannah. “That must be what he did on Wednesday morning! When I went back to his car to get the keys, I noticed that his garage-door opener wasn’t clipped to the visor.”
“I think you’re right. Max started to pack his car Wednesday morning, but he didn’t have time to finish before his meeting. He left his briefcase open because he needed to pick up the speech that Betty typed up. When his meeting was over, he planned to come back here and leave for the convention. But Max didn’t come back. The last time anyone saw him he was in his office at Cozy Cow. His trail ends at the dairy.”
Andrea winced. “I hope you’re not going to say what I think you’re going to say.”
“I am.” Hannah closed up the garage and ushered her sister out Max’s front door. “We don’t have a choice. We’ve got to check out the dairy.”