This Little Piggy Went to Murder (21 page)

Sophie was beginning to feel like she was at the center of a vortex, and no matter how hard she resisted, she was going to get sucked down along with everyone else. She gazed at the book in her hand, her heart sinking. Another clue that led nowhere. Well, maybe it led somewhere, but how was she supposed to interpret it? This was too much for one day. Turning off the lamp on Luther’s desk, she dropped her head in her hands and pressed her fists hard against her temples. Fighting back the emotion she was almost too tired now to suppress, she tried her damnedest not to cry. Tonight it was going to be a losing battle.

Bram ambled aimlessly into the bedroom eating the last bite of a slice of cranberry bread. This morning his attire consisted of a pair of ratty old jeans, a red flannel shirt, and a silk top hat.

“Nice hat.” Sophie stood in front of the mirror brushing her uncooperative hair.

“Oh, do you like it?” He took it off and held it at arm’s length. “I kind of like it, too. Found it downstairs in the rec room. I think I’ll have to get a cane and tails to go with it. Then we can go dancing.” He grabbed her and began leaping around the room.

“Bram? Stop!” She couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled her down on the bed.

“All right. But what shall we do now? I can think of a few suggestions.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” asked Sophie, keeping him at arm’s length. “No writing this morning? Am I actually going to see you today?”

“If I sit in that room one more minute and stare at that blank piece of paper, I’m going to go insane. There’s no telling what I might do!” He began to pull the hair away from the sides of his head and drool.

“Stop it,” said Sophie, hitting him on the arm. “You know I hate it when you drool.”

“You do? You should have said something years ago. Before it became a habit.”

“Listen to me for a minute, bean brain. I’ve got a great idea.”

“I’m all ears.” He flopped on his back and pulled the hat over his face.

“Let’s take a sauna.”

He didn’t move.

“Bram? Did you hear me?”

From under the hat came a deep, rumbling yes.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Isn’t that a great idea? Remember that sauna out in the woods? We took one together there several years ago. You know, I could use a break today, too. Something restful. Remember those two wooden benches? The shower right outside?”

“How could I forget? The flora and fauna got quite an eyefull.”

“They’re used to it.” She waited. “So, are we on?”

Bram rolled over onto his stomach, propping his head on his hands. “How do I say this politely, honeybunch?”

“Don’t call me obnoxious names. We took a wonderful sauna at cousin Sulo’s cabin before we got married.”

“I do remember that. Yes, indeed, I do.”

“You loved it!”

“I loved seeing you naked in the middle of the day.”

Sophie smiled. “How about in the middle of the moming?”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Why?”

“Because now I can see you naked anytime I want — without benefit of that thirteenth-century torture chamber designed by
your
ancestors for the sole purpose of terrifying the rest of the world. God thunders to the poor soul:
Be good or I’ll drop you back on Finland!
”

“Stop.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Oh, don’t be such a coward,” prodded Sophie. “You’ll love it.”

“I will not.”

“Then I’Il have to find someone else to do it with.”

“Naked?”

“What do you think? After all, I am a full-blooded Finn.”

“I think I better save you from yourself.” He took the top hat and dropped it over her face.

“Great! I’ll go down and ask Alice to have someone open it up for us and get a fire going. It’s chilly this morning. Perfect weather for a sauna.” She tapped the hat into place on top of her head. “You go get us two big bath towels and I’ll meet you in half an hour out on the front deck. Just wear a robe.”

“I know what to wear,’“ he snapped. “I just hope this isn’t a mistake. My horoscope wasn’t very promising this morning. You probably aren’t interested, but it doesn’t look like a very auspicious day.”

“We’ll work on it,” said Sophie, moving in a bit closer.

“Are you sure you remember how to find this place?” asked Bram, nearly tripping over a large rock.

“Calm down. We’re almost there. I can smell the wood fire.”

“Oh, goody. I can hardly wait.” He kicked a branch out of his way. “All these trees look alike to a city fella. I’d much rather be fishing. Sometime before we leave, I’m going to call old Farley Barnes and get him to take me out in his boat.”

“Tell him to leave the six-pack on the dock, or I may never see you again.”

“Yeah, Farley’s kind of a good old boy.”

“The color of his neck has less to do with it than the shape of his liver. There,” said Sophie as they came to a small clearing. She pointed at a dilapidated log structure, complete with smoke belching from the low chimney in the rear. Running ahead, she pulled open the door. Inside, the room already appeared to be heating up nicely.

“It’s dark in there,” groused Bram.

“Do I detect a slight whine? Come on, honey. There’s a light. See that power line over there? Here.” She flipped the switch. “What did I tell you? All the comforts of home.”

He peeked further into the doorway. “It smells like a wet mitten.”

“Does it? It’s probably lined with cedar. Most people find that rather pleasant.” She found the bucket of water that had been left next to the wood stove and tossed a dipperful over the heated rocks. Immediately, steam billowed into the air. “Just wait till that heat really starts pumping.”

Bram climbed the steps and surveyed the space distrustfully. “We’re going to die in here,” he mumbled. Removing his robe, he paused in the center of the room, lethargically staring at a bad crack in the ceiling.

Sophie dropped her own robe over a bench and unfolded the beach towels. “Actually, I have quite a lot to tell you. You didn’t come to bed until after I was asleep last night.”

Bram watched her stretch out on one of the bare wooden benches. “Later,” he said, sitting down next to her. He ran his hand gently up her leg. “I hope you brought along tweezers because I think we may need them before the morning is over. I do so love these exotic vacations, Sophie. I really do.”

An hour later he lay on the bench looking like a dead flounder. “Christ, can we consider ourselves roasted through now?” He raised a limp arm.

“What happened to all your energy?”

“You have to ask?”

Sophie laughed. “Just a few more minutes. Besides, we haven’t finished our discussion.” She got up and pulled another log off the pile in the corner. “This is great for our skin.”

Bram raised his head slightly and rolled his eyes.

“What’s this?” asked Sophie. Spying something underneath a log, she lifted a pile of twigs and tree bark off a small typewriter. “My God, will you look at this!”

Bram propped himself up on one elbow. “Looks like a typewriter.”

“Brilliant. Being locked in a room for the last four days eating Popsicles and making paper airplanes hasn’t dimmed your powers of observation one bit. I don’t suppose you have a piece of paper on you?”

“Do I look like I have a piece of paper?”

Sophie studied him for a moment. “No.” She brushed a spiderweb off the top of the machine. “This could be the typewriter the police have been looking for. The one the death notes were typed on.”

Bram sat up and whistled. “They combed the place all day yesterday looking for that.”

“Too bad one of them didn’t get the urge to take a sauna. Listen, we’ve got to get this out of here right away.”

“I think we better be careful, Soph. After what you said happened last night, I’m not so sure we should get involved any more than we already are. Let’s just leave it here and go call the police. Let them take care of it. After all, even you have to admit this has turned into a pretty dangerous business. No one is immune. Just because you think so many of these people are your friends —”

“They
are
my friends, don’t you see?”

Bram shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I think you’re being blinded by your loyalties. The police seem to think Luther’s involvement is central. Look at the facts.”

“I am! But I know some things the police don’t. For instance, there are several secrets surrounding Jack’s senatorial campaign that might be significant. What if he had a bad drug problem back in the late Sixties? People might go to extreme lengths to keep that under wraps.”

“People? You mean like Jack?”

Sophie stiffened. “Not necessarily. Anyone who feels he has something important riding on the election might be forced to act in his own best interest.”

“Maybe he sold secrets to the Vietcong.”

“What?”

“Maybe that’s the secret. You know, Sixties stuff. How to tie-dye your underwear. The correct way to pass around a roach clip. Or maybe how to start a commune and convince your goofy girlfriends to do all the work while you sit on the porch and smoke weed. Important information like that.”

“Bram, be serious.”

“I’ve talked to a lot of folks who’ve known Jack for years, Sophie. No one has ever hinted at a drug problem. Don’t kid yourself. He’s got enemies. If someone had information like that, it would have hit the papers long before this. My gut instinct tells me you’re barking up the wrong tree with that Damascus Gate thing ”

“Then what was he doing in Green Dells?”

“Well, pardon my mentioning this, but one of the most famous mental health facilities in the country is located just outside of town. The Emmet Saltzman Clinic.”

Slowly, Sophie turned around. “What are you suggesting?”

Bram scratched his prickly chin. “Nah. Everyone says how cool Jack is under pressure. He isn’t the type.”

“There is no type. Mental illness can affect anyone. What if Damascus Gate was a cover?” She thought for a moment, trying to reach back and pluck a specific comment from her memory. “As I think about it, when I mentioned Green Dells to Jack, he did use the term clinic. So did Claire the night I overheard her talking with Amanda in the lighthouse. Why didn’t I catch that before? Damascus Gate isn’t a clinic. It’s a halfway house.”

“I don’t know, Soph. You have no proof. Then again, I suppose it’s possible Jack could be hiding some sort of latent psychological instability.” He shook his head. “No, I think you’re really reaching. Best to leave it alone.” He pulled himself to a sitting position.

“I can’t! I know it’s a chilling thought, but unless somebody gets to the bottom of this very soon, someone else is going to die. We simply can’t turn our backs on that.”

“I suppose you have a theory for who the next little piggy will be. All the people I’ve talked to have been falling all over themselves trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, it’s driving me nuts. Wardlaw thinks everything has been planned in advance.
This little piggy had none
. None of what? Money? Fame? A new car? I just feel so useless.”

Bram smiled, wiping a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose. “You may have found the most significant piece of evidence so far.” He nodded to the typewriter. “Don’t be so hard onyourself.”

Sophie gave a small cough. “Isn’t it getting kind of smoky in here?”

Bram looked around. The room did seem to be filled with a thin haze. “Maybe the vent is blocked or something.”

Sophie eyed the wood stove.

“I suggest we leave,” he said cheerfully. “Being steamed is one thing. Being smoked is an entirely different matter. Here’s your robe.” He tossed it to her. “I’ll meet you outside by the shower. The squirrels are already waiting out there with their binoculars. I saw them on the way in.” Getting into his own, he tiptoed to the door. “Sophie?”