Every one of the items on the car parts order could be obtained by dismantling the cars that looked too good to be sold as salvage.
The pieces of Sheriff Grant's murder puzzle began to turn and jostle for position in Hannah's mind. It was possible that Ted had bought these cars from other junkyards, but she was still disturbed by their like-new condition. What if there was nothing wrong with them? What if the cars had been stolen to fill the order from the man in Minneapolis? And what if Ted and Beatrice's newfound prosperity came from running a chop shop for stolen cars?
Hannah glanced at the receipt again. It listed the cars as salvage, but didn't you need a pink slip to sell a junk car? The driver hadn't handed her any of those. She zipped up her bomber jacket again and ran out to check, but the glove compartments in all four cars were as empty as the interiors. Was she right about the pink slips? Hannah wasn't a hundred percent sure, but it was too late to call the D.M.V. today and she didn't want to wait until Monday morning.
The moment Hannah thought of it, she picked up the phone and dialed Eleanor Cox's number. Eleanor had been the head clerk at the D.M.V. for almost twenty years before she retired, and she was bound to know the answer.
'Hi, Eleanor,' Hannah said when her call was answered, thanking her lucky stars that Eleanor was home.
'Hi, Hannah. What's on your mind?'
'I need to ask you a D.M.V. question. Does a person need a pink slip to sell a car for junk?'
'Is something wrong with your cookie truck that you're thinking of selling it for junk?'
'No, nothing's wrong. The question just came up, that's all. Do you know?'
'Of course I know. I didn't sit behind that counter at the D.M.V. for twenty years for nothing. Yes, you need a valid pink slip to prove ownership. The slip must be signed over to whoever takes possession of the vehicle, whether it's a used car lot, a private party, a donation to charity, or a salvage yard.'
'How about if one salvage yard sells the car to another salvage yard?'
'The pink slip stipulations still apply,' Eleanor said, sounding very official. 'The vehicle cannot legally change hands without the pink slip.'
'Thanks, Eleanor. You've been really…”
'It's not really pink, you know,' Eleanor interrupted Hannah's comment. 'Everybody always says that, but pink slips haven't been pink for years. But that's neither here nor there. It's downright creepy, Hannah.'
'What's creepy?'
'It's just that Sheriff Grant called me on the day he was killed and asked me the very same questions.'
Somehow Hannah managed to say goodbye and get off the phone. The pieces of the puzzle surrounding Sheriff Grant's death were spinning around a lot faster now. Car parts in Sheriff Grant's home office. The fact the sheriff hid Lonnie's stolen car report in his briefcase. Sheriff Grant's call to Eleanor to ask about the pink slips. All this made Hannah certain that the sheriff had been down the road she was traveling, the very same road that had led to his death. But who had killed him? The driver of the stolen car transport? The man in Minneapolis? Ted?!
Hannah gasped as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Barbara Donnelly had told her that Ted had been wearing coveralls when he picked up Leah and Krista from dance class. What if Ted had used his coveralls to hide clothing splattered with Sheriff Grant's blood? And what about that scratch on his arm? Had he done it here at the salvage yard, or had he injured it on the lid of the Dumpster as he'd tumbled Sheriff Grant inside?
With her heart beating much faster than its normal rate, Hannah let the sheriff's murder play out in her mind. Sheriff Grant had spotted Ted as he pulled into the school parking lot in his work truck. Before Ted could switch to Beatrice's sedan and leave to pick up the girls, Sheriff Grant had asked him some tough questions. Ted put two and two together and realized that Sheriff Grant had discovered his stolen car ring. Ted knew that he was about to be arrested and he refused to go down without a fight. He resisted, getting in a lucky swing with something hard enough to break Sheriff Grant's skull, something he had with him in his truck like… a tire iron.
Hannah glanced out at Ted's work truck, which was parked right next to the trailer. Perhaps the murder weapon was still in there. It wouldn't take long to get his tire iron. Even if Ted had washed it off, it could still have trace amounts of Sheriff Grant's blood. She could take it out to the sheriff's office when she delivered Bill's taillight and they could test it.
In less than a minute, Hannah was back with the tire iron in hand. She supposed she should take it out and hide it in her truck, but the wind was gusting with a vengeance now and she was freezing. There was no reason why she couldn't hide it in plain sight. When Ted came back, she'd just buy it and he'd never suspect that it hadn't come from the big bin of tire irons in his parts shed.
Hannah put the tire iron on the counter, slid onto the stool she'd so recently vacated, and thought about the murder again. If Ted had scratched his hand while he was tumbling Sheriff Grant's body in the Dumpster, all Mike and Bill needed was a blood sample and they could match it to the blood they'd found.
Feeling much better now that she had two possible pieces of evidence, Hannah went back to her scenario. It all made sense, but something was missing. She thought about the information that everyone had given her and remembered the stain on Krista's dress. What if the stain wasn't rust? What if it was Sheriff Grant's blood, smeared inside the truck by Ted when he was in the process of slipping on his coveralls?
Suddenly Hannah had a frightening thought. If Clara and Marguerite Hollenbeck came back early, they might remove the stain from Krista's dress. She had to call and tell them not to touch what could be important evidence. Hannah picked up the phone, dialed their number, and breathed a sigh of relief when their answer machine kicked in. They weren't back yet. She'd leave a message telling them not to touch Krista's dress.
The two sisters had recorded a lengthy outgoing message and Hannah listened to more about Clara and Marguerite's schedules than she needed or wanted to know. She was just waiting for the beep to record her message when she heard a roar outside the window and looked up to see Ted Koester's tow truck pulling up in front of the trailer.
Hannah hung up the phone, waved at Ted, and plastered a smile on her face. It was a good thing he couldn't read her mind! All she had to do was explain where Beatrice was, tell him she'd taken his delivery, offer him a cupcake, pay for the tire iron, and get out.
'Hi, Hannah.' Ted stepped inside the trailer, looking puzzled. 'Where's Beatrice?'
'She had to go repair Leah's dance costume. I said I'd stay until you got here. Your delivery came. I signed for it and put the paper on the clipboard the way Beatrice told me to do.'
'Thanks.' Ted eyed the white bag on the counter. 'What's that?'
'Cupcakes. I think I've got your mother's recipe figured out. Taste one and see.'
Ted took a cupcake out of the bag and tasted it. He took another bite and then another. 'You got it. What was the secret ingredient that Beatrice was grousing about the other night?'
'Raspberry syrup.'
'I'll be!' Ted looked utterly amazed. 'I never would have guessed that. So now the recipe will go in the cookbook?'
'Definitely.'
'Glad to hear it. It serves my mother right for refusing to give anybody else the recipe. Did Beatrice tell you about that?'
Hannah nodded, wondering about the best way to excuse herself and get out with the evidence.
'Every time she came to visit, she said she forgot it. And then she promised to mail it to Beatrice, but she never did. Now everybody that reads the cookbook can have it. It serves her right.'
Hannah swallowed hard. She'd never heard Ted do anything but praise his mother before. He wasn't acting like himself tonight and she should leave. 'I need to pay for this tire iron and get out of here, Ted. I promised to take Tracey to the Haunted Basement and I'm late already.'
'Okay. Leave those cupcakes here and I won't charge you for the tire iron.'
'It's a deal,' Hannah said, reaching for the tire iron at the same time Ted did.
'Hold on a second.' Ted grabbed it first and reached for a bag. 'It might be dirty.'
Hannah watched as Ted flipped open a bag. He started to slide the tire iron inside, but he stopped and began to frown. 'Where did you get this?'
