“Oh, Nana, what is going on?” Samara exclaimed.
Mazie quickly jumped in with her information of what she found at Benson’s Hardware. “It was definitely marijuana. I don’t think I acted subtle enough because Oswald kept glaring at me. We made it out of there faster than a couple of rabbits being chased by a hound.”
“Oh criminey, things are starting to get out of hand. I left a message for the sheriff to call me. He has got to be informed about this.”
Samara sat studying the notebook when she came across Theodore Olsen’s page. “What is this about Mr. Olsen? What makes you think he knows something?”
“I’m not sure, dear, but I keep running into him and he appears to be aggravated every time he sees me. There’s just something that doesn’t feel right about him. You know, it’s still early. I think I’ll try to visit with Greta. You girls go on home and spend some time with your parents. I’ll be over in a bit.”
Chapter Eighteen
5:00 P.M. December 27, 1946
Agatha walked the three blocks distance to Greta’s house, arriving just as Theodore Olsen, of all people, stepped out of the front door.
“Theodore, we can’t keep meeting like this,” she said trying to spin a slight bit of humor into the uncomfortable situation.
“Just paying my condolences to Greta, Mrs. Larsen, as I’m sure you are as well. I expect I’ll be seeing you again at the ball tonight?”
He left before she could respond, but Greta greeted her at the same time, which eased the moment. Agatha had to wonder if Theodore had been the one who had sneaked out of Greta’s back door when she had first visited the young widow.
“Hello, Greta, dear. I hope you don’t mind another prying visit from an old woman. I just wanted to know if you had a chance to go through any of Max’s things yet.”
“Come in, Mrs. Larsen. I’m glad to see you. I still haven’t gone through his things, but I did remember something that I had totally forgotten about when you were here the first time. Come, let’s sit in the living room.”
Greta sat upon a soft blue Queen Anne style chair, and Agatha took a seat across from her on the sofa of the same color.
Greta continued, “I think an intruder came into our house on the night of the Christmas program. When Max and I got here, he went into his study, came out and asked if I had been in his desk. Of course, I never messed with his things because he always put them in a particular kind of order. He told me his papers weren’t the way he left them—remember his eye for details? They looked as if though someone had rummaged through them, and then put them back in what was thought to be the same order.”
“Do you know what the papers were?” Agatha asked.
“No, but we can go into his study if you would like. Maybe we can find something that might be helpful.”
The two women looked through the desk drawers and the file cabinet, but found nothing outstanding. They did find, however, a folder that contained newspaper clippings about a bank robbery that took place in Sacramento, California in 1945.
“What is this about, Greta?”
“Oh that. When we went to visit my cousin, Sheila, in Sacramento back in ’45, this bank robbery had just taken place. Every day the newspaper carried more information about it and Max became almost obsessed over it. He told me he wanted to write a fiction book based on the robbery.”
“Hmm. May I take this folder with me? Would you mind? It probably has nothing to do with any of this, but for some reason I think I need to look into it.”
“Of course.”
With a quick change in subject, that would not allow Greta time to prepare an answer, Agatha hit her with, “Are you having an affair with Theodore Olsen, Greta? I know someone was here yesterday, and the two half cups of tea didn’t go unnoticed by me.”
Her jaw dropped in shock, but she answered with some sort of dignity as best she could. “Not Theodore Olsen! Never! But I was having an affair. I broke it off a few days before the murder. You don’t need his name. I know he had nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, but my dear, I most assuredly do want his name. He may well have had something to do with it. After all, he was at your home after the murder, so I’m not so sure that the affair is really over. At least on his part, anyway, don’t you know. Don’t hold it back, dear Greta. I’m not here to judge. I just want answers as I’m certain you do too.”
Taking a deep breath, Greta said, “It’s true he came to see me yesterday, and he was at the tree lighting. It’s all such a blur. I don’t know what my feelings are at this point, but I do know that Paul Miller couldn’t hurt a flea.” She put her head down into her welcoming hands and began to sob.
“Paul Miller? I do remember seeing him at the tree lighting. In fact, I planned on giving him a call to ask if he noticed anything out of the ordinary that night. So, he came to see you. Did you talk to him that night?”
Greta dabbed her eyes, sat up, straightened her shoulders, and answered the question. “Yes. He approached me while Max and I were separated for those few minutes. I told him I couldn’t talk to him there. He’d have to wait. I’d call him, I said.”
“How did he respond to that?”
“He wasn’t too happy, but he certainly understood we couldn’t have a rendezvous right there in front of Max and the whole town. Look, Mrs. Larsen, I’m positive Paul couldn’t have killed Max. He never went near him because he didn’t want to call attention to himself where Max was concerned.”
“Greta, I appreciate your honesty, and I will do everything I can to keep this information confidential, but my granddaughters will have to know about it because we are working on this investigation together. I promise you they will not say a word to anyone about it. We just have to ascertain all of the facts, so we have a complete picture. You understand, dear?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Larsen. For some reason I feel better having gotten this off of my chest. If there is anything else I can help you with, please come by any time. The sheriff and his deputy haven’t even called me, let alone come to see me, and I find that rather odd.”
“I’m sure they will contact you soon, dear. They’re probably just giving you a little time to yourself.” But Agatha thought why haven’t they been to see Greta?
Chapter Nineteen
6:00 P.M. December 27, 1946
Agatha sat at her kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate topped with a marshmallow, and opened her notebook. She started a new page for Paul Miller and wrote:
Having an affair with Greta Mueller
Was at the tree lighting
Was Greta’s mystery visitor
She added to Greta’s page:
Had affair with Paul Miller, but told me she broke it off before Max was killed
I think she still loves him
She thought they had an intruder the night of the Christmas program
Max’s papers weren’t in the right order
Max was obsessed with a 1945 Sacramento bank robbery
Greta gave me the newspaper clippings about the robbery
She fixed a quick tuna sandwich, and considered the facts of this investigation while she ate. None of what she had learned made a whole lot of sense. For one thing how did any of this connect Max with Maggie? Maggie saw something that got her killed, she thought. I’ve got to remember the exact words to her poems.
Chewing on both her food and the facts she had gleaned, Agatha suddenly remembered she hadn’t checked her mail yet. The letter box was full, and it included a letter from an old school chum, the telephone bill, and an unstamped envelope that had only her name typed on the outside.
She opened it to find a type-written note that read:
“Stop snooping—you could get hurt if you don’t. Just might meet the same end as your friend and the mayor.”
Shaking, Agatha telephoned Sheriff Lange at his home. Within five minutes of her call he sat in her living room, and the two looked over the note. Then she told James all she a
nd the girls had learned thus far--the shifting of the papers in Max’s study, the missing scarf, the unlocked back door, the marijuana plants in Oswald’s greenhouse, his argument with the mayor the night of the murder, and the fact he had cyanide in his shed. Even Maggie May’s poems weren’t left off her list of facts she shared with the law man.
“Mrs. Larsen, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. This note is the very reason I didn’t want you to get involved—you and your granddaughters. But I do have to say you have learned quite a bit of information. I wonder who went into Mrs. Schultz’s house. It had to be the murderer returning to see if there was any crucial evidence left behind. The scarf had to belong to our murderer. Did it look familiar to you?”
“No, I can’t say off the top of my head at this moment.” Agatha had reached a place of irritability and found herself taking it out on James. “Sheriff, Greta told me you haven’t even been by to ask her any questions. Why is that? I wouldn’t have to snoop around if you were doing your job, James.”
“We’ve been doing more than you think, Mrs. Larsen. We know all about Oswald’s cyanide in his shed. We’ve approached him about it, and he told us someone broke into his shed the night of the Christmas program. Whoever did it, broke the lock, stole the cyanide, and swished the snow in front of the shed to hide footprints. Oswald didn’t want to tell us about it, so he replaced the lock and kept quiet, especially when he learned that’s what killed the mayor. We are doing our job, Mrs. Larsen, and we don’t need your help. Let me have that note. I doubt we’ll find any fingerprints on it except for yours, but we’ll check it anyway.”
“I’m sorry that I got snippy with you, James. This thing is all wrapped up in me and I can’t stop searching to find out who murdered Max and my best friend. I must be getting close or I wouldn’t have received this note. You’ve got to let me help you. I’m going to with or without your permission. What do you say, James? I’ll keep you in the loop, I promise.”
“I have to admit, you have learned more than we have, but I’m hesitant to let you help, even though I see I have no choice in this matter. Just be very careful and make sure you tell me everything, you hear me?”
“Oh, yes, James, I hear you and I will tell you everything,” she said as she thought about the affair and the news clippings she had already withheld, and the fact she didn’t have a good feeling about Theodore Olsen. She’d let him know when she knew more.
They said their good-byes and Agatha dressed for the Snow Ball.
Chapter Twenty
7:30 P.M. December 27, 1946
At first, Sheriff James Lange had been a bit put out by his old elementary school teacher when she accused him of not doing his job, but he had to admit he hadn’t put into the case what he should have. The whole thing was so overwhelming to him. After all, he had never investigated a murder.
Ten years ago he had been the deputy to the now deceased Jeffrey Holden. The hardest thing they had during that time was the hunting accident of Victor Hall, which had never made sense to him. It still didn’t seem possible that Victor could have accidently shot himself in the head, especially since he knew how to handle fire arms. In spite of his feelings on the matter, however, they had no evidence to the contrary, and were forced to rule it an accidental death. And now he had two real murders on his hands with no clear idea of where to look for answers. He actually felt thankful to Mrs. Larsen for her help. She had, without her knowledge, lifted a huge boulder from his shoulders, because she had already uncovered far more than he had.
He drove over to Bensons’ Hardware and Nursery to find the store front locked, so he made a quick drive over to Oswald’s house. Darkness surrounded the place with no sign of life. Even the parking spot in front of the home sat vacant. James knocked on the door when it opened on its own.
“Oswald, Anna, anybody home?” he called out.
No answer.
He turned on the lights to the living room that exposed newspapers scattered all over the place, an empty box on the floor, and sparse amounts of furniture. The sheriff went into the bedrooms, encountering an even more troubling scene. The closet contained a few shirts and bare hangers, while half-open vacant bureau drawers hung from their designated positions. Oswald and Anna were gone.
Because Oswald had some family in Bayfield, James called ahead to the Bayfield police to be on the lookout for the Benson’s, and issued a warrant for his arrest for possession of marijuana and as a possible murder suspect. Then he called Deputy Jonathan King telling him to meet him at the greenhouse.
James Lange brought his deputy up to date with all he had learned from Mrs. Larsen, including the threatening note she had received. “I’ve gotta' tell you, I’m glad she’s looking into this, but I’m afraid for her at the same time.”
“I’m thinking I have to agree with you. Do you think we should let her keep investigating? Or do we really have a choice in the matter?” Jonathan said.
“Yeah, right. There’s no choice. She’s gonna' do what she wants to do and that’s that. But we’ve got to look into some of the things she’s found. Although, I have a sneaky suspicion she knows more than she told me, and that’s the part that makes me uneasy. Let’s take another look into this shed and see what we can find.”
The door of the shed stood slightly ajar, and when they looked inside, they weren’t surprised to find it completely empty. Then they went into the unlocked back door of the greenhouse, and searched for any remnants of the marijuana, but after an extensive exploration they assumed Oswald had cleared it out.
“I’ve got to call Mrs. Larsen to warn her. Then we’ve got to head over to the Red Cliff Indian Reservation right away. Anna’s aunt and uncle and two cousins live over there. I’ve got Bayfield police on the alert. Let’s go, eh.”
Agatha hung up the telephone after James warned her to lock her doors because Oswald had left town, but he just might try to come to her house. After obeying the sheriff, she sat nervously in her late husband’s chair. Surely, Oswald won’t come here. He’s going to want to get as far away as possible, she thought. Of course, there is a good possibility that he isn’t the murderer, that we’re barking up the wrong tree. I do have my doubts.
“Oh criminey. I’m not going to sit here in fear. I’m going to finish getting dressed for the Snow Ball and head over to Alex’s”. And that’s exactly what she did.
Chapter Twenty-0ne
8:00 P.M. December 27, 1946
The Elkton school gymnasium had been completely transformed, and no longer resembled the place where the students played basketball and volleyball. Instead cascades of holly draped every window. White cloths covered the walls. Each cloth hung in soft pleats, and was decorated with a wreath of fresh pine needles, ornaments and bows. A glittering mirror ball danced from the center of the ceiling, encircled by multiple streamers. Poinsettias in pots stood all around the perimeter of the gymnasium floor.
Off to the side a refreshment table covered by a red table cloth had holly spread across it. In the center a large mirror plate supported Elizabeth’s huge snow ball cake that was covered in coconut, surrounded by a hundred cupcakes decorated in the same way. A large vat filled with hot chocolate and a sizeable coffee urn along with a variety of ceramic cups, finished off the food and drink table where Elizabeth Smith, Sandra Becker, Erica Larsen, and Nora Anderson officiated.
Mazie and her boyfriend, Gary Anderson, arrived looking like elegance personified. Her gown of silver satin hung gracefully on her slim body, accessorized with a long strand of pearls flattering the outfit. Tall, and handsome, Gary wore a black pin stripe suit that complimented his muscular physique.
Mazie went to join the orchestra located at the north end of the gym. A hush settled across the room when she began to sing “White Christmas” to kick off the dance. Her voice echoed throughout the room with such beauty that folks weren’t sure whether to dance or just listen to the loveliness of it all, but the Snow King and Queen got th
e party started by going to the center of the converted gymnasium and dancing the first dance.
Agatha, adorned in a flowing gold satin dress that stopped just above her ankles, walked over to her daughter-in-law at the refreshment table, and asked for a hot chocolate.
“You and your team did a beautiful job on the decorations, dear.”
“Thanks, Mother. It was a lot of work, but we sure did have fun.”
“Say, Agatha and Erica, Mazie sure can croon a tune,” Nora said as she helped someone to a steaming cup of hot coffee. “I’m so impressed with her ability hey,”
“We’re sure proud of her, don’t you know. And of course her sister too. They are the apples of my eyes,” Agatha responded.
“I’m very impressed with those two girls,” Sandra added while helping to cut the cake. “Being my first carnival, I am amazed at the talent in this town. Didn’t know it would be so great here. Everyone is so friendly and welcoming. Sure am glad we left Sacramento.”
“Well, we’re happy to have you here, dear,” Agatha responded.
Then Nora asked, “Where is Samara? She is coming to the ball isn’t she?”
“Oh yes, she’s coming. Should be here any minute,” her mother answered. “Alex stayed behind so he could bring her. She received a phone call from her boyfriend just before we left the house. They’re missing each other, and can’t wait till school starts back up after this Christmas break. We were hoping he would get up here during the holiday, but it isn’t going to work out. He’s needed at home to help with some sick animals on his family’s farm. Mark is taking pre-veterinary classes in Madison, and will transfer to another college when the time comes to get his degree to become a veterinarian.” While pouring some coffee her eyes lit up when she saw Alex and a beaming Samara, dressed in a lovely emerald green floor-length satin gown.
“Hey, Mother, let’s cut a rug, what do you say?” Alex said when the band started to play “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” a favorite of the community, especially when Mazie sang it.
The mother and son went out on the dance floor, wowing the crowd with their version of the swing dance. Before they knew it, everyone surrounded them, clapping and oohing and ahhing. As she danced with Alex, Agatha considered the Snow Ball to be a good diversion, enabling her to keep her mind off the threatening note, of which she had no intention of telling her son.