Part 23 (1/2)
”Not really. Somebody could have kept it in a safe deposit box or under a mattress all these years. And sometimes people just like to save money in mint condition.”
”You mean collectors?”
”There's nothing collectible about this bill, but it could have been some sort of a keepsake, framed and put under gla.s.s. When people give money as a gift, they usually come in to get new bills.”
Hannah nodded and reached out to take back her bill.
”What's the matter?” Doug asked her. ”You look a little disappointed.”
”Lisa and I thought maybe we'd stumbled onto a counterfeiting ring. It would have been interesting.”
Doug gave a small, humorless laugh. ”I don't think you want to get involved with something like that. If that bill were counterfeit, you'd have federal agents breathing down your neck in two seconds flat.”
”New customers,” Hannah said with a grin, slipping the bill inside her purse and getting up from her chair. ”Thanks, Doug. I guess we'll never know the story behind that new-old bill. I thought it might be contraband and someone had sat on it for years, afraid to spend it before now.”
”Wait a second, Hannah. You might have something there. Let me check the serial number.”
”What will that tell you?”
”When a bank gets new bills, they come in packaged by denomination and serial number. If this one was stolen in a bank robbery and they took packaged bills from the safe, the 204.
bank would have reported the serial numbers to the authorities.”
”And you can check that?”
”Of course. The computer's in the middle of an automatic backup right now, but I've got hard copy of the loot list.”
”Loot list?”
”That's what we call it. The official t.i.tle is about twenty words long. It's a cross-reference index by year and serial number.”
”And it lists money from bank robberies?”
”It lists some of it. If a robber conies in and empties the cash drawer, there's no record of the serial numbers. But if he takes money from the safe, there is. And it's not just from bank robberies. It's also a list of marked money.”
”Like the cops give out when they're trying to track down a ring of scam artists?”
”That's right. Hold on a second and I'll get the printout.”
Hannah poured herself more coffee while Doug was gone. It was so good, she even considered installing a gourmet coffee bar in The Cookie Jar, but she didn't think that would go over well in Lake Eden. New fads took years to catch on and the residents in Lake Eden would balk at paying three or four dollars of their hard-earned cash for a cup of designer coffee.
”I've got it,” Doug said, coming in the door with a large three-ring notebook. ”Read off that serial number and I'll see if it'sin here.”
Hannah gave him the serial number and Doug flipped the pages to the proper section. He ran his fingers down a long line of numbers and then he looked up with an excited expression. ”I knew it was a long shot, but it's in here. Your ten-dollar bill was part of the cash that was stolen from the Redwing City Bank in June of nineteen seventy-four.”
”Stolen money?”
”That's right. Keep your eye out for more and tell Lisa to do the same. I'll copy this page and give it to Sheriff Grant. He can have his deputies distribute it to every merchant in LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 205.
town, and we might be able to catch ourselves a bank robber. Think back, Hannah. Do you have any idea who gave you this bill?”
Hannah a.s.sumed the most innocent expression she could muster as she shook her head. She remembered what Doug had said about federal agents breathing down her neck, and she wasn't about to involve her baby sister in a bank robbery investigation until she'd had the chance to talk to her first.
Chapter Nineteen.
Of course Delores had called to invite her to the family party. Once Hannah had fed Moishe, she changed into a pair of old jeans that had become threadbare through frequent was.h.i.+ngs and were perfect for summer. The waist felt a bit loose and that made her wonder just how many pounds she'd lost.
Hannah glanced in the mirror as she slipped into a cotton pullover sweater with short sleeves. It was in one of her favorite colors, a muted teal that looked good with her red hair. She'd worn it for good until she'd dripped mustard on the front at the volunteer fire department's picnic last year. The mustard had come out, but the stain remover she'd used had lightened the material. Rather than relegate the sweater to the ragbag, she'd dabbed the stain remover on in a random pattern all over the material, washed it again, and now she had several dozen dime-sized circles of light teal dancing down the front and back of her new ”designer” sweater.
It didn't look half bad, Hannah thought, glancing in the mirror. She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake. Then she went back to the LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 207.
kitchen to refill Moishe's bowl for the final time, slung her purse over her shoulder, and hurried down to her truck to drive to Eden Lake.
Twenty minutes later, Hannah found a parking place at the side of the dirt road that ran past the lake cottage that had been in the Swensen family for the past thirty years. It had belonged to her grandparents, who had rented it out every summer for the extra income. When her father had inherited it, he'd done the same. As a child, Hannah had spent two weekends at the cottage every year. One had been at the beginning of May when it was still too cold to set foot in the lake. They'd spent that weekend getting the cabin spruced up and ready for the summer rental season. Hannah's second, summer weekend had been at the tail end of August right after dog days, when the surface of Eden Lake had been covered with algae so thick, Hannah hadn't been allowed to swim. That time had been spent winterizing the cottage, shutting off the water and bleeding the pipes, covering the screens with heavy plastic to protect them from the icy winter winds, and packing up the dishes and silverware to store for the next summer.
Hannah sighed as she thought back to her childhood. She'd always dreamed of staying at the cottage during the height of the tourist season, when the tiny grocery store was stocked with a dozen flavors of Popsicles, and there would be other kids from fascinating places like Iowa and Wisconsin to swim with. Now she was here, at the height of the season, and she didn't even own a swimsuit. And she couldn't have any Popsicles because she was on a diet. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.
Hannah got out of her truck and walked past Andrea's Volvo. Her sister and niece were here early. There was Norman's car, too. And Carrie's. Delores must have invited the whole extended family. That was good. With more people here, it would be easier for her to pull Mich.e.l.le off in a corner and ask her about the ten-dollar bill.
As she approached the screen door of the cottage, Hannah 208.
sniffed the air. She expected to catch a whiff of Hawaiian Pot Roast, or E-Z Lasagna, her mother's favorite company dishes. Hannah wasn't particularly fond of either one, but the fact that she couldn't eat them made them sound delicious. All she could have was salad and Delores had promised she'd have plenty of that.
Norman walked over to greet her the moment she walked in the door. At first Hannah was puzzled by the relieved expression on his face until she realized that he'd been talking to Delores. No doubt her mother had been asking him all sorts of personal questions about why he was building such a big house and if he had any plans for the future. ”Mother's been giving you the third degree?” she asked.
”You could say that”
”Then it looks like I got here just in time.”
”In more ways than one,” Norman told her with a smile. ”Bill and Mike went to pick up the pizza and they should be back any minute.”
”Did you say they were bringing pizza? ”
”Yes, and your mother ordered a low-cal one for you.”
Hannah started to frown. ”That's got be a contradiction in terms. How could a pizza be low-cal?”
”Maybe they put on low-fat cheese?”
”That wouldn't do it. There's still all that wonderful crust, and the spicy sauce, and pepperoni, and sausage, and olives, and anchovies, and...”
”Hold it,” Norman said, handing her his handkerchief. ”You're drooling.”
Hannah took it and made a show of wiping her face even though she knew he was teasing. ”Pizza is one of my very favorite things and just one bite would blow my diet.”
”Don't you think you've lost enough weight? You're looking positively skinny.”