Erica and the girls appeared just a few minutes later, and after the shock of witnessing the still body of Maggie May, they tried to comfort Agatha through their own tears, huddling together.
Doc and the sheriff arrived at the same time. Everyone except Agatha moved out of the way. The doctor gently pulled her away from her dearest friend. He opened Maggie’s sweater, and saw that her bare skin revealed the same cherry red color that the mayor’s body had shown just the day before yesterday. “Looks like we’ve got an epidemic of murder on our hands, sheriff.”
“Ohhhhh nooooooo!” Agatha wailed, and doubled over in pain. “Who would do this to Maggie May? She’s never even hurt a flea. Why? Why? Why?”
Another murder? Maggie May of all people? It made no sense to any of them, and the girls and Erica burst into tears along with Agatha.
Sheriff James Lange asked, “Are you sure about this Doc? Couldn’t it be hyperthermia?” He walked up the back steps to discover that the back door was locked. “She must have locked herself out.”
“No!” Agatha cried, “I’ve already explained this to my son. No one in this town ever locks their back doors—including Maggie. Even if she did, she would have come over to my house to get the key. This is murder once again, Sheriff James Lange, and you’d better start investigating this thing quickly before we have another one.”
Chapter Eight
9:00 A.M. December 26, 1946
Maggie’s body was taken to the morgue and placed near the late Maximilian Mueller, where both awaited for autopsies to be performed. The medical examiner from Duluth had gone out of town to visit his daughter for the Christmas holidays, therefore delaying his examination until the 31st or even later.
The sheriff sent Agatha to her house to retrieve a key to Maggie’s door, but he didn’t want Agatha involved in his investigation. He knew that it will be hard to keep her out of it, but he planned on letting her know the danger involved.
Deputy Jonathan King was waiting with James when Agatha, along with Mazie, returned with the key to the front door.
“So sorry about this, Mrs. Larsen. I know how much you cared about your friend. Hey, the whole town of Elkton loved the woman.” the deputy said.
“Thank you, Jonathan. It is more than devastating to say the very least,” she replied.
“Where’s the rest of the Larsen clan, Mrs. Larsen?” asked the sheriff while he slipped the key into the keyhole.
“They didn’t want to get in the way, so they’re waiting at my house.”
They entered Maggie’s residence, and began looking around, but didn’t see anything that appeared amiss.
The sheriff asked Agatha, “I don’t know. Mrs. Larsen, do you see anything that looks like it’s been moved or out of place, or doesn’t belong here?”
Agatha and Mazie scanned the living room that reflected the old Maggie May Schultz, a room decorated in browns, and beiges, and hints of rust, a room where nothing was out of place. An eerie silence crept throughout the house that made Agatha mourn that much more for her friend. Then they went into the well-kept kitchen, and found a hand knitted navy blue scarf on the floor close to the back door. Clearly that didn’t belong there, and Mazie picked it up and draped it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Agatha decided to write it down in her notebook when she got home, even if it may have appeared to be insignificant. They continued to walk through each room, but Agatha and Mazie found nothing that seemed out of the ordinary other than the scarf on the floor, and told the two lawmen as such.
“Let’s have a look again on the back porch,” the sheriff said. “It does look as if someone cleared off the snow, or did she do that?”
“I’m certain Maggie swept off the snow herself. She tried to keep the porch dry like I do in case she had to shake a rug or throw something out for the birds. This makes no sense at all, James. I can’t figure out the purpose of the locked door, unless the murderer locked it by mistake. Although…..where are Maggie’s keys?”
The key hook by the door displayed no sign of any keys. Agatha searched through Maggie May’s purse, and went through the pockets of her purple coat that still hung on the coat rack in the kitchen, but came up empty.
“This is really strange, gentlemen. I don’t understand this.”
“Nana,” Mazie said, “maybe the killer picked up Mrs. Schultz’s keys by mistake, just out of habit when one leaves a house, don’t you know.”
“That could explain it, but nobody around here locks their back doors, so why lock it?” Agatha said mostly to herself. “I suppose the murderer may have been looking for something, and if so what did Maggie May possess that got her killed? Is he planning on coming back here to search the place? Sheriff, Deputy, you’ve got to get busy and investigate this thing. We’ve got to find out what motive someone had to poison Maximilian and Maggie. What did they have in common?”
“Mrs. Larsen, we will handle this, and would appreciate it if you will just stay out of it and let us do our job, eh. If you get involved, you might be the next one to be killed, and we don’t want that,” James spoke sternly to his former elementary school teacher.
“Of course,” she said, but inside she knew she was not going to stay out of it. The murder of the mayor had aroused the armchair detective within her. But since her dearest friend had been killed, it was time to get serious and do some real investigating. No, she refused to rest until she discovered the ugly truth.
Aloud she said, “We should keep this quiet, don’t you know, Sheriff. The people are already upset about one murder. If this gets out, I’m afraid we’ll have a panic on our hands. Let them have fun at the carnival. Don’t you agree?”
The two lawmen concurred, and Jonathan suggested, “Let’s tell folks that Maggie died from hyperthermia because she apparently fell into the snow-covered back yard. I’ll let the doc know.”
They all agreed that would be the best way to handle it for now.
***
“Mother, are you going to be all right?” Erica asked Agatha when she and Mazie walked back into her home.
“Yes, dear, I’ll be fine, but this is more than a little upsetting, don’t you know.”
“I’ll stay with you, Nana, if you’d like,” Samara said softly to her grandmother.
“We’ll both stay,” Mazie added.
“I think that will be a good idea, Mother. Just make sure you three don’t play detectives, you hear me?” Alex addressed his mother and daughters. “I know you might think you know what you are doing, but you don’t.”
“Yes, son.”
“Of course, Dad,” Mazie said, while Samara nodded.
As soon as Alex and Erica left to go back to their home, Agatha got out her notebook and brought the girls up to speed. Then she started a new page entitled, “The Murder of Maggie May” and wrote:
Maggie was still dressed in the orange sweater she wore all day Christmas
Navy blue scarf on the kitchen floor
Placed the scarf on the back of a kitchen chair
Maggie’s back door was locked
Maggie’s keys are missing
The sheriff and deputy agreed to call the cause of death an accident until after the autopsy
“You girls keep your eyes and ears open while you go about your business. I think I’ll pay a visit to Greta Mueller. Perhaps I’ll be able to learn something from her. I’ll stop by the Café and get some pasties to take to her. I’ll see you girls later tonight, and we can compare notes then.”
The three nodded in one accord. Their investigation was about to begin.
Chapter Nine
12:30 P.M., December 26, 1946
About to ring Greta’s doorbell, Agatha held back when she caught a snippet of conversation coming from the late mayor’s wife.
“I can’t do this right now. This town is too nosey. You’ve got to leave.”
The mumbling from the other party couldn’t be distinguished, so Agatha pressed the doorbell. Greta
opened the door, dressed in a flowing lilac satin bath robe. In spite of the fact she had just lost her husband in such a horrific way, her eyes, although sad and teary, were as blue as the sea. Her blonde hair, pulled back in a bun with straying hairs, still looked good. A beautiful woman, she had made a stunning contrast to Maximilian’s darker appearance, whose great-great-grandmother had been an Ojibwe.
Hearing the back door close, and the little bit of dialogue she heard before entering, Agatha spoke in an innocent tone, “Oh, dear, do you have company?”
“No, I just came in from out back to throw out some trash, and when I heard the bell, I rushed in. Sometimes that door delays if I try to close it too fast. Please, come in,” Greta replied without making eye contact to her former teacher.
“I won’t keep you, dear. I just wanted to come by and offer you my condolences and bring you these pasties from Ingrid’s café. And I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Larsen. This has been a nightmare to say the very least. I just can’t believe this has happened. Why don’t we have a seat at the kitchen table? I’ll put a kettle on for tea and we can each have a pasty.” Greta hands shook as she scooped up the two half-full cups that were on the table while she spoke, but that didn’t go undetected by Agatha. She was already picturing a page in her notebook with Greta’s name at the top.
“You are most kind,” Agatha answered as she took a seat at the kitchen table, pretending not to notice the widow’s uneasiness.
Greta, always the gracious hostess, put a pasty on each plate, served the steaming hot tea, and took a seat across from her guest. They each took a bite of the meat, potato and onion filled baked dough, and sipped their tea before Agatha spoke.
“Ingrid sure knows how to season these things better than any I’ve ever had. But I didn’t come here to talk about pasties. Greta, I’m trying to figure out how this could have happened to Max. If you’re up to it, I want to pry into your memory bank during the tree lighting event. Did you notice anything unusual that night before you walked up to the gazebo?”
“I don’t think so. It was terribly crowded. We were all bumping into each other, but that’s how it is every year.”
“Were you with Maximilian the entire time before he lit the tree?”
“Well, no. We were separated for a bit while we each talked with different people. Then we came together just about five minutes before we walked up to the gazebo.”
“Hmmmm. Did you happen to see who he spoke with when you weren’t together?” Agatha took another sip of the amber liquid.
“Not really. I was too busy talking with others to notice. Do you think he was injected with cyanide while we were in the crowd? Wouldn’t he have felt the needle?” Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks while she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Who would be so brazen as to commit murder in a public place?”
“I’m so sorry to put you through this, Greta, but I feel strongly about finding out who did this to Max as quickly as possible. I’m thinking that he should have felt a needle going into his skin, too, but it was so cold, maybe it wouldn’t have been so noticeable. Can you think of anyone who hated Max enough to want him dead?”
“Everybody.”
Seeing the shocked look on Agatha’s face, Greta continued, “He wasn’t loved by most people in town. They voted for him every time because they thought he did a good job being the mayor, but he was an egotistical man, who made a lot of folks angry.”
“I’m sorry dear. I know Max was an annoying man, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered. Can you give me something specific?”
“I’m not sure I can pinpoint anything. Although, Theodore has never spoken to Max since Victor Hall shot himself when the three of them were on that hunting trip, and that’s been at least ten years ago. I’ve noticed that he sort of glares at Max every time he sees him, or rather every time he saw him.”
“That does seem a bit strange, don’t you know. They were such good friends growing up. Anything else you can think of?”
“Not right now, but if I come up with anything, I’ll give you a call.”
Agatha stood to put on her coat, and gave Greta a hug.
“Thanks for coming and for caring, Mrs. Larsen. The townspeople have been so kind to me.”
Agatha went back to her house with a lot on her mind and she immediately started another page in her notebook, entitled, “Greta.”
Visited Greta on 12/26
She had a visitor who didn’t want to be seen
Heard a bit of conversation…Greta wanted the person to leave because she couldn’t deal with “this” right now
Two half full cups of tea were on the kitchen table
She didn’t admit to having company
She didn’t make eye contact when asked about the visitor
She felt that most people hated Max…but enough to kill him?
Mentioned that Theodore and Max hadn’t spoken since the hunting accident ten years ago, but I’m certain I saw them several times over the years talking to each other in town, although it didn’t seem too cordial
None of this seemed that helpful, but Agatha intended to discover who had been visiting Greta when she arrived. There’s more to the grieving widow than meets the eye.
Chapter Ten
6:30 P.M., December 26, 1946
The Larsen’s gathered around the dinner table at Alex and Erica’s home to consume the leftover turkey along with all the fixin’s from Christmas dinner. It seemed like eons ago when Maggie had joined them at the same table, partaking of the same food, and yet she had been with them just yesterday.
“How are the Snow Ball decorations coming along, Erica? Are you ready for tomorrow night?” Agatha asked as she poured gravy on her turkey and dressing.
“Just a few more things left to do. Oswald is going to put up some holly tomorrow over the entrance, and scatter some on the refreshment table. It’s going to be beautiful when we are finished. Oh, and Elizabeth is making a huge cake in the shape of a snow ball with cupcakes sitting around it that will also look like snow balls.”
Mazie took a bite of a roll while glancing at her grandmother. She felt such sadness for her over the loss of her childhood friend. She knew, though, that Agatha didn’t plan on stopping her investigation until she found answers, and Mazie and Samara intended to continue to help her in every way possible. Her thoughts were interrupted when her grandmother asked if she felt prepared to sing at the Snow Ball with the orchestra.
“I’m as ready as I’m gonna be, eh. We’re planning on starting with ‘White Christmas’ and then every now and then I’ll sing a host of others. We’ve practiced a lot.”
“I know you’ll do well, dear. Samara, how’s that snow sculpture coming along? Do you think you’ll be set for the judging by tomorrow afternoon?”
“I will if I leave right after we eat to work on it some more tonight. It’s so involved, but then so is everyone else’s. I’m afraid I’m dealing with some stiff competition this year.”
The idle chit chat continued while the unspoken thoughts of the two murders remained in the middle of the dining room table, and Alex kept wishing no one would give in to discuss it. That hope ended when Agatha said, “I went to see Greta today.”
Seeing the look of annoyance on Alex’s face, she didn’t give him a chance to speak and continued to talk about the visit to Greta.
“I only went to see her to offer my condolences and to bring her some pasties. Greta is clearly sad about losing Maximilian in this traumatic way, but she said everyone in town hated him. What do you think about that, Alex? Do you think someone detested him enough to murder him?” Agatha didn’t mention Greta’s mystery visitor, who crept out unseen when she arrived. She didn’t want to get Alex riled up again about her meddling into the investigation, but it was a bit too late for that.
“Mother, you just couldn’t stay away could you, eh?” Alex said, shaking his head. ?
??I honestly can’t begin to wager even a guess at who hated the man that badly to kill him right there in front of everyone, no less. Someone must have seen something amiss, but we are going to let the sheriff handle this thing, right?”
“Of course, dear,” Agatha smiled and quickly changed the subject to talk about the Evelyn Dick murder trial that had taken place in Hamilton, South Ontario just this past October. “That was a brutal murder--her husband all cut up like that. She’s going to be hanged unless her appeal goes through. It amazed me that a woman could do something so horrible. Makes me think that our murders could easily have been done by a man or a woman. I’m just thinking, Son. I’m just thinking and wondering if the sheriff thought of that, or is he just looking for a male suspect?”
“Again, Mother, you must leave it to James and Jonathan, trained law enforcement officers. I’m certain they’re doing everything they can. Please, please, please stay out of it. And that goes for you girls too!”
“Of course, Dad,” Mazie mimicked her grandmother and smiled in the same way.
After helping to clean up the kitchen, and wash and dry the dishes, Agatha and Mazie walked over to her house. Samara left to work on her snow sculpture where the other contestants were sculpting away on their works of art. She would meet up with the two “detectives” in a couple of hours.
Chapter Eleven
9:00 P.M., December 26, 1946
Mazie reclined in her grandfather’s easy chair after grabbing a piece of hard candy from the Christmas bowl that sat on the old cherry coffee table Agatha and Kenneth had purchased when they first got married. “So, Nana, what did you find out from Greta that you didn’t tell Mom and Dad?”
Samara had just walked in and said, “Wait for me. I don’t want to miss anything, eh.” She sat on the sofa next to Agatha, and across from Mazie, who tossed her a piece of the candy.
“Before we get started, why don’t I fix us all some hot chocolate. You look like you could use some warming up, Samara.”
The girls agreed, and once Agatha served them the chocolaty goodness, they settled in to their former seats, sipping on the hot liquid that contained luscious marshmallows floating on top.