Red Velvet Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #16)(11)

“Let me guess,” Hannah said with a sigh. “The bottle with the heart medication was two pills short. And the other two bottles had one pill too many. And that’s why the M.P.D. decided that Clayton’s death was a suicide.”

“That’s right.”

Andrea began to frown. “I can see their point, but it still doesn’t make any sense. Clayton enjoyed driving the band and he liked every one of the boys as much as they liked him. Even if he had decided to commit suicide, he never would have done it while he was driving. He would have waited until he got to the Lake Eden Inn and then he would have taken the pills.”

“Did he leave a suicide note?” Hannah asked.

“No. Or at least the M.P.D. didn’t find it when they searched his house. And even if he’d mailed it to someone, it would have surfaced by now.”

“Did they find anything unusual?” Hannah asked.

“Not really, unless you want to count a gift-wrapped box of Fanny Farmer truffles and an expensive bottle of premium Chianti. The wine was in one of those fancy wine bags.”

“He must have been planning to take them to someone when he got home,” Norman speculated. “And that means he was planning ahead.”

“Right,” Hannah picked up on his thought. “And if he was planning ahead, why would he suddenly decide to commit suicide?”

“Maybe he had a date all planned and the woman called him on his cell phone to cancel,” Mike suggested.

“And he got so depressed over the cancelled date that he decided to commit suicide right then and there and take all his friends on the band bus with him?” Hannah knew she sounded incredulous, but that’s exactly how she felt.

“It was just a suggestion,” Mike defended his scenario. “It could have happened that way.”

Hannah gave a short laugh. “And cows could fly if they just had wings. But you don’t really think it happened that way . . . do you?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s my personal opinion. The official conclusion is that Clayton Wallace committed suicide. It’s over, Hannah. I can’t reopen another police department’s case without good cause. And suspicion without proof isn’t good enough. Believe me, we’re all just as upset as you are. Bill’s just sick about the whole thing, and so are Lonnie and Rick. The worst part is the insurance policy.” When Hannah, Norman, and Andrea looked puzzled, Mike went on to explain. “If the official investigation doesn’t conclude with natural, accidental, or homicide, the insurance company doesn’t pay death benefits. And that means Clayton’s son loses out.”

“Clayton had a son?” Andrea asked.

“Twenty-two years old, and paralyzed from the waist down. He’s living in a group home and doing really well, but there are some medical treatments that might improve his condition. They’re expensive. The state of Minnesota pays for part. We’re good that way. We take care of our own. But new treatments take time to get approved by the system. Clayton was counting on that insurance money to make his son’s life easier.”

All four of them were silent for a long moment. Then Hannah spoke up. “I’m sorry I found that pill matrix! And I’m doubly sorry I gave it to you.”

Mike reached out to take her hand. “You did the right thing, Hannah. It was evidence and you had an obligation to turn it over to me. That’s one of the reasons I’m telling you all this. You played by the rules.”

Hannah locked eyes with Mike. He was trying to tell her something, something that he couldn’t say. “What do you need to reopen the M.P.D. investigation?” she asked.

“In order to reopen the investigation we need some proof that it wasn’t suicide, something concrete. It could be proof that it was murder, or it could be proof that it was an accident. Either one would cause us to reopen the case and conduct our own investigation.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that you can’t get that proof officially, but I can?”

“I didn’t say that. You surmised that. And I can’t control what you surmise.”

Hannah smiled. “Enough said, Mike. And nobody except Andrea and Norman know that we had this conversation?”

“Right.” Mike turned to Andrea. “Would you like to dance? Bill could be with the mayor for a while. When I left they were talking about crime rates in Winnetka County, and whether or not they should think about shutting down the Blue Moon Motel.”

Hannah exchanged a quick look with Andrea. They’d seen a clandestine photo of Mayor Bascomb and a lady better left unnamed coming out of a room at the Blue Moon Motel. For someone who’d used it as a rendezvous, Mayor Bascomb didn’t have much loyalty.

“I’d love to dance with you, Mike,” Andrea said, standing up to take Mike’s arm.

“How about you, Hannah?” Norman asked when Andrea and Mike had left the table.

“Love to,” Hannah said and stood up to follow Andrea and Mike to the dance floor in the lobby. A jazz band had started to play and the music was mellow and perfect for dancing.

“You know about Bev?” Norman asked, taking Hannah into his arms to the strain of an old standard.

“Andrea told me.” And then she paused, wondering if she should ask. Did curiosity win out over politeness? Her heart said yes, but her mind said no. Mercifully, she was saved the agony of deciding because Norman went on speaking.