Chapter Twenty-Three
Hannah pushed open her condo door and caught a flash of orange out of the corner of her eye. Moishe had just jumped down from his perch on the top of the television set and he looked about as guilty as a cat could look. She glanced at the screen and realized that a nature program was on—one that was running footage of a flock of flamingos flapping their bright pink wings.
“Those birds are four times your size, Moishe.” Hannah gave him a scratch under the chin to let him know that she wasn’t angry. When she’d unlocked the door, her fierce feline hunter had been in the process of hanging over the top of the set to bat at the birds with his paw.
Once she’d switched off the enticing flamingos and hung up her jacket, Hannah walked out to the kitchen to fill Moishe’s food bowl. Of course it was empty. It was always empty. Moishe’s favorite activities when she was gone were eating and napping.
There were three messages on her answer machine. The first was from her downstairs neighbor, Sue Plotnik, asking if she could serve cookies at her Mommy and Me class next week. Hannah penciled it in on her kitchen calendar; she’d transfer it to the one at The Cookie Jar when she went in on Monday. Then she listened to her second message. It was from a man who identified himself as Robert Collins from Hideaway Resorts, who invited her to a complimentary dinner for prospective timeshare investors at a hotel in Minneapolis. Hannah didn’t bother to write down his toll-free number.
The third message made Hannah perk up her ears. It was from Bill and he told her that he just wanted to keep her up to speed. The manager from Compacts Unlimited had contacted him this morning. Since she still didn’t have the printout, she’d called all their other car lots and one of them had handled a rental for a customer with a Lake Eden address. Boyd Watson had rented a black compact from their St. Paul lot on Tuesday.
Naturally, Bill had checked it out. He’d called the principal, Mr. Purvis, and he’d found out that Coach Watson had been attending a statewide coaching clinic at the time. Since Boyd hadn’t come back to town until noon on Wednesday, that ruled him out as a possible suspect.
Hannah’s forehead furrowed as she poured herself a glass of diet Coke and carried it into the living room. When Maryann had said that she’d driven to Minneapolis to go shopping with Boyd, she’d assumed that Maryann had picked him up and they’d gone to the Mall of America together. But Maryann had said that she’d met her brother at the mall. Boyd must have had his rental car by then. But why would Coach Watson go to the trouble and expense of renting a car for less than twenty-four hours when his sister was coming to meet him? It just didn’t make sense.
She sighed and reached out to pet Moishe, who’d forsaken his food dish for the soft cushion of the couch and her company. Had Coach Watson been behind the wheel of the black compact that Mr. Harris had seen roaring out of the Cozy Cow driveway? The timetable was tight, but it was possible that Boyd had left before dawn, while Maryann and his mother were still asleep, and driven to Lake Eden. His last name began with a W, and he could have been the one to meet Max. If Maryann and her mother had slept until nine, Boyd might have had time to shoot both Max and Ron and get back before they woke up. But what possible motive could Coach Watson have for killing Max?
Hannah thought back to everything that she’d learned about the Watsons. Danielle’s ring had cost a thousand dollars and the dress she’d worn to the Woodleys’ party had sold for over five hundred. Boyd and Danielle lived in a very expensive house, and Danielle didn’t work. Boyd drove a new Jeep Grand Cherokee, and Danielle had a new Lincoln. How could Coach Watson afford to maintain their expensive lifestyle on a teacher’s salary?
“Boyd got a personal loan from Max!” Hannah exclaimed, causing Moishe to rear back and stare at her. “Sorry, Moishe. I didn’t mean to shout, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. There weren’t any loan papers for him, but the safe was open and he would have taken them right after he shot Max. And then he killed Ron because Ron had seen him with Max!”
Moishe turned to give her a long, level look and then he hopped off the couch and padded into the kitchen to his food bowl. He yowled once, calling for her to get out the kitty crunchies, and Hannah went off to comply. Moishe was the most intelligent cat she’d ever met. He was waiting for her to fill up his food bowl because he knew that she had to leave again.
Danielle opened the door several inches, but no wider. “Hi, Hannah. I…uh…I’m busy right now. Could you come back a little later?”
“No.” Hannah wedged her foot into the crack. “It’s important, Danielle. Is Boyd home?”
“No, he’s not. He’s got…football practice…at the school.”
“Good. That’ll give us some time alone. We have to talk, Danielle.”
“But I…I have to put on some makeup. I was just…uh…taking a nap and…” Danielle’s voice trailed off and she gave a little sob. “Please, Hannah. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Hannah made one of her instant decisions. Right or wrong, she was coming in. Never one to dither once she’d made up her mind, she simply pushed Danielle back and stepped inside.
“Oh, Hannah!” Danielle’s hands flew up to her face, but not before Hannah had spotted her black eye and the red welts in the shape of a handprint across her left cheek.
“Good God, Danielle!” Hannah reached out to shut the door. “What happened to you?”
“I…uh…I—”
“Never mind,” Hannah interrupted what was bound to be some sort of hastily fabricated story. “Come on. Let’s get some ice on your face.”
“I don’t have any.”
“I’ll find something.” Hannah took her arm and led her into the kitchen. “Are you sure he’s not coming back?”
Danielle managed to look even more embarrassed. “Who? The…intruder?”
“Your husband.” Hannah opened the freezer and rummaged around for something that would work as an ice pack. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Danielle. I know he beat you up.”
“How do you know that?”
One of Danielle’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but the other was almost swollen shut. Hannah drew out a package of frozen peas, whacked it against the counter to loosen the contents, and handed it to her, along with the kitchen towel that was draped over the handle of the stove. “Sit down at the table. Wrap the peas in the towel and hold it up to your eye. I’ll get another one for your cheek.”
“Thank you, Hannah.” Danielle sank down in a chair. “This is all my fault. I forgot to fill up the ice trays.”
Hannah pulled out another package of frozen peas and wrapped it in a clean towel from the drawer. She held it up to Danielle’s cheek and sighed deeply. “It’s not your fault. Hold that with your other hand and tell me where you keep the coffee.”
“I don’t have any. I ran out and I forgot to buy more. That’s why Boyd got so mad at me.”
Hannah bristled. There had been a couple of mornings when she thought she might kill for a cup of coffee, but she hadn’t really meant it literally. “How about tea?”
“I’ve got some instant. It’s in the cupboard over the stove. And there’s a hot water spigot on our Sparklettes dispenser.”
Hannah found two cups, spooned in instant tea and a generous helping of sugar, and filled them with steaming water from the dispenser. She carried one over to Danielle and set hers down on the other side of the table. Hannah didn’t like tea, but that didn’t matter. Sharing tea gave them a common bond. “Let me look at your cheek.”
“It feels better.” Danielle removed the towel and managed a small smile. “I never even thought about using frozen peas before. I guess it’s true when they say that vegetables are good for you.”
Danielle’s sad attempt at humor made Hannah see red. Danielle had said she’d never thought about using frozen peas before. This obviously wasn’t the first time that Coach Watson had battered his wife. Hannah thought about trying to convince Danielle to press charges, or offering her advice about how she could get out of her abusive situation, but that could wait until later. Right now she had to find out if Boyd Watson was a murderer, as well as a wife beater.
“It looks a lot better,” Hannah assured her. “Have some tea and then hold it there for another couple of minutes.”
Danielle nodded and took a sip of her tea. “You put a lot of sugar in.”
“Sugar’s good for shock.” Hannah retrieved the bag of Black and White cookies she’d brought in from her truck. “Have a cookie. They’re chocolate.”
Danielle reached for a cookie and nibbled at it. “These are good, Hannah.”
“Thanks. Do you have a headache?”
“It’s not a concussion, Hannah. I know the symptoms.”
I’ll bet you do! Hannah thought. If she remembered correctly, Danielle had been in the hospital several times in the past—once for a broken leg and other times for less serious injuries. She’d always claimed that she’d been clumsy and fallen on the ice, or broken something skiing, or been in a boat accident while she was fishing with her husband. Hannah remembered her sister’s comment about Danielle’s clothes and how they always covered her completely. That should have set off alarm bells in Hannah’s mind, especially since Luanne had already told her that Danielle used theatrical makeup for facial blemishes. The only thing that erupted on Danielle Watson’s face was her husband’s bad temper!
Danielle took another sip of her tea and then held the improvised ice pack back up to her cheek. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you, Hannah?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Hannah promised, evading a direct answer. She certainly wouldn’t gossip about it, and that was really what Danielle had meant. “If you ever want to talk to anyone about it, I’m here. All you have to do is call me or jump in the car and come over. I’ve got a guest room and you can use it anytime you need to get away.”
“Thank you, Hannah.”
There would never be a better opportunity and Hannah seized it. “There’s something else, Danielle. If you want to press charges, I’ll help you.”
“No, I could never do that!”
It was the answer that Hannah had expected. She knew that most battered women mistakenly protected their abusers, at least until the problem got so severe that someone else noticed. Unless Danielle pressed charges, or someone actually saw Coach Watson hitting Danielle, there was nothing that the authorities could do. Hannah decided she’d give it one more try and then move on. “If you press charges, Boyd will get some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Counseling, anger-management workshops, that sort of thing.” Hannah hoped the disdain she felt didn’t show in her voice or on her face. To her way of thinking, mandatory sessions with a counselor were merely a slap on the wrist for chronic abusers. Anyone who caused the physical damage that Coach Watson had meted out to Danielle should have to suffer the full consequences of the law.
“Boyd’s already getting counseling.”
“He is?” Hannah wanted to make a crack about what a poor counselor Boyd must have, but she didn’t.
“It’s really a lot better now. Boyd’s only hit me once since school started.”
“Counting today?” Hannah couldn’t resist asking.
“No, but he’s under a lot of pressure with his football team. They’ve lost three straight.”
So what does Boyd say to his team? Hannah wondered. If you boys don’t make those touchdowns, I’m going to go home and smack my wife?
“He’s always sorry, after. Really, he is. He actually broke down in tears when he saw what he did to my face. And then he went straight to the phone to put in an emergency call to his counselor. That’s where he is now. I didn’t want to tell you before, so I made up that excuse about football practice. Boyd drove all the way down to St. Paul because he felt so guilty.”
Hannah’s ears perked up. Boyd had rented the Compacts Unlimited car in St. Paul. “Does Boyd see a counselor in St. Paul?”
“He goes to The Holland Center,” Danielle pronounced the name with reverence. She looked as proud as anyone could with one black eye covered by a package of frozen peas. “It’s the best in the state and he sees Dr. Frederick Holland, the head counselor and founder. You’ve probably seen his name in the papers. He’s done some wonderful work with serial rapists.”
Nothing Hannah wanted to say seemed appropriate but it didn’t seem to matter. The dam had broken and Danielle wanted to talk.
“We almost got a divorce last spring. Boyd just couldn’t seem to control himself, and Dr. Holland thought we’d have to split up. But Boyd said he’d just try harder, and it’s worked.”
Hannah glanced at Danielle’s face again. If this was trying harder, she was glad she hadn’t seen the results of Boyd’s former abuses. Danielle was going to have a shiner the size of the Grand Canyon. “Isn’t that kind of therapy expensive?”
“Yes, but Boyd’s medical insurance covers eighty percent. It’s the one through the teachers’ union and they’re very good about that. Dr. Holland bills it as occupation-related stress counseling. It would be too embarrassing for Boyd otherwise.”
“I guess it would.” Hannah did her best to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. God forbid that the wife beater should be embarrassed!
“When you rang the doorbell, you said you wanted to talk to me. Is it about Ron’s murder again? Or what happened to Max Turner?”
Hannah assumed that Danielle wanted to change the subject, and that was fine with her. As a matter of fact, it was perfect. She needed to know more about Boyd’s rental car. “I’m just clearing up some loose ends. Has Boyd rented a car lately?”
“Yes.” Danielle looked surprised. “How did you know about that?”
Hannah thought fast. “You told me that you drove out to the casino in Boyd’s Jeep Cherokee and I just assumed that he rented a car for the trip.”
“But that’s not exactly what happened, Hannah. Boyd rode to Minneapolis with another coach, but when he decided to stay over to see Dr. Holland, he rented a compact for a day. He had an appointment on Wednesday morning and he couldn’t ask Maryann to drive him. Boyd doesn’t want her to know anything about his problem.”
“Of course not.” Hannah gave the appropriate response.
“It was an early appointment, seven in the morning,” Danielle went on. “That was the only time Dr. Holland could work him into his schedule. Boyd had to leave his mother’s house at six to get there on time.”
“Didn’t Maryann notice that he was gone when she got up?”
“Yes, but he told her that he was going to get up early and go out for doughnuts. His mother just loves doughnuts. Boyd brought them back with him after he saw Dr. Holland.”
Boyd’s appointment could be verified with a phone call and Hannah decided she’d do it the minute that she got home. “Did Boyd ever borrow money from Max Turner?”
“From Max?” Danielle frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to mention it, Danielle. Not even to Boyd.”
“All right,” Danielle agreed, but she looked a bit uneasy. “What is it?”
“Max lent money to quite a few people in Lake Eden and one of those loans might have something to do with his death. Why did you say you didn’t think Boyd had borrowed from him?”
“Because Boyd doesn’t need to borrow money when he’s got mine. You must know what teachers are paid, Hannah. We could never afford to live on Boyd’s salary alone. We bought the cars and the house and practically everything we have with my money.”
Hannah’s eyebrows shot ceilingward. This was a surprise development. “What money is that?”
“The money I inherited from my uncle. I was always his favorite and he left it to me. He put it in a trust fund and I get a lump sum every year.”
“And that’s why you can afford all these luxuries?”
“That’s right. When I get my lump sum in January, I give Boyd half and my mother invests the rest for me. We’ve done really well on the stock market, and Dr. Holland thinks that’s part of Boyd’s problem. It’s very difficult for a strong male like Boyd to be married to a woman who makes a lot more money than he does.”
“I suppose it is.” Hannah settled for a safe comment.
“That’s the reason I keep my inheritance a secret,” Danielle confided. “Dr. Holland says that Boyd’s ego is too fragile and he’d be tempted to strike out even more if his friends knew. You won’t mention it, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” Hannah agreed quickly. She could imagine the damage that Boyd would inflict on his wife if the word got out that Danielle was supporting them. He might even borrow a page from the storybook and kill the goose that laid the golden egg.