Part 7 (1/2)

”You don't think your mother saw a body?”

”I doubt it. Andrea said looky-lous have been traipsing through this house for the past three months. If there was anything in the bas.e.m.e.nt, one of them would have found it.”

”Maybe they didn't go down there. Your mother was very descriptive, Hannah. She said the body was partially buried in a grave.”

”A grave is nothing but a hole and someone could have dug up the floor to fix the plumbing. Mother said the furnace room light was burned out and she admitted that she couldn't see very well. I know her better than you do, Norman. I'm sure she saw something, but she's a drama queen. I'll never forget the time she swore she saw a black bear going through our trash can and it was only our neighbor's French poodle.”

”That's good to know,” Norman said, looking relieved. ”But we still have to look. Did you bring those flashlights?”

”Of course I did.” Hannah handed him a flashlight and kept one for herself.

Norman started down the steps first and Hannah let him. It was clear he was exercising his manly prerogative, and

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that was fine with her. She really didn't think her mother had found a body, but it would be negligent of them not to check.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and started to walk across the bas.e.m.e.nt floor, Hannah looked around her curiously. The bas.e.m.e.nt ran the full length of the house. It looked cavernous in the light from the single string of bulbs that hung from the rafters and the shadows were deep and slightly menacing.

”It's creepy down here,” Hannah said, her voice much louder than she'd intended.

”It's also a mess,” Norman added, stepping over a pile of old newspapers and detouring around a stack of decaying boxes. ”Rhonda's cleaning woman didn't clean down here.”

As they picked their way past piles of greasy rags, old paint cans, and stacks of old magazines tied up with twine, Hannah let her flashlight play over the walls. One wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling shelves that held an array of home-canned vegetables and fruit. The jars were laden with years of dust, but she could still see the brightly colored contents and she was impressed. ”Look at all those preserves. Mrs. Voelker must have spent a lot of hours canning.”

”Rhonda said she used to win blue ribbons for her jams and jellies at the county fairs.”

”Really?” Hannah stepped closer and let the beam of her flashlight play over the jars. ”I don't see any. These are pickles, and canned corn, and things like that. Maybe Rhonda took all the jam.”

The door to the furnace room was open and hanging by one hinge. Hannah was surprised that her mother had ventured so far into the bas.e.m.e.nt without a flashlight. The lure of antiques must have been stronger than her distaste of spiders and grime.

”Hold on, Hannah.” Norman held up his hand. ”I want to make sure this door doesn't fall. I'll hold it to let you through and then I'll find something to prop it up.”

Norman held the door and Hannah stepped into the fur- LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 69.

nace room. It was much larger than most, a rectangular, dirt-floored s.p.a.ce with the furnace near the center. There was a coal chute set into the outside wall, and Hannah surmised that this room had once been the entire bas.e.m.e.nt. A homemade set of shelves was sitting against one of the walls. Hannah saw that it contained jam. A few jars were broken and she stepped over the shards of gla.s.s as she made her way past the furnace.

”Something's been digging back here,” she called out to Norman, as she spotted a mound of dirt. ”It was probably a big badger or mole.”

”Do you think that's what your mother saw?”

”Maybe. I don't see anything resembling a body, though. Mother's imagination must have been working overtime.'”

”Where are you?” Norman asked, his voice floating eerily into the darkened silence.

”In back of the furnace. Go around it to the right. Be careful where you step. There's some broken gla.s.s on the floor near the shelves.”

Hannah stepped closer, s.h.i.+ning her light over the mound of dirt. Just beyond it, there was a large hole in the dirt floor and she could see why Delores had a.s.sumed it was a grave. She moved closer, letting the beam of her flashlight play over the partially filled-in hole, and she drew her breath in sharply as she saw something that couldn't be explained by any animal, no matter how large. It was a tennis shoe and it was attached to a human foot.

”Oh!” Hannah gasped, turning and almost b.u.mping into Norman.

”What is it?”

”I'll tell you later,” Hannah said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the doorway. ”Let's go.”

”Was it a body?” Norman asked, puffing a little as he hurried to catch up with Hannah.

”Yes!”

”In the hole?”

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”Yes!” Hannah took a deep breath. ”Mother was right. We have to get out to the sheriff's station and tell them about it.”

Hannah left Norman getting coffee for Delores at the bank of machines that lined the lobby. The coffee was awful; she'd had it before, but even bad coffee was good in a pinch. She'd driven out to the sheriff's station on autopilot, trying not to think about the gruesome discovery they'd made. The tennis shoe she'd seen had been lime green and the only person in Lake Eden who wore shoes that color was Rhonda Scharf.

”Hannah,” Mike smiled as he saw her coming toward his desk. ”How's it going?”

”Not good. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Mike nodded, led her to one of the conference rooms, and closed the door. When he motioned her to a chair, Hannah noticed that he looked anxious. ”Don't tell me that...”

”Norman didn't propose,” Hannah said, guessing what was foremost in his mind. ”This is something entirely unrelated.”

”What?”

”There's a body in the bas.e.m.e.nt at the Voelker place. I don't know for sure, but I think it's Rhonda Scharf.”

Mike looked stunned for a moment and then he pulled out his notebook. ”You found another body?”

”Not this time. Mother had that honor.”

”Delores?” Mike looked even more stunned. ”Is she all right?”

”Yes, if she survives the coffee in your vending machine. Norman's with her and I gave her a triple dose of chocolate.”

”What happened?”