David Handler - The Snow White Christmas Cookie

Paulette poured herself some more wine and took a sip. “I suppose they would,” she acknowledged.

Des shoved her heavy horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Casey must have had a partner on the inside, Paulette. And the only way that any of this makes sense is if that partner was you.”

Paulette stared at her blankly. “Me?”

“You,” she stated. “And you were awful damned clever about it, too. You and your year-end Grumman LLV fleet readiness review.”

Questa frowned at her. “What readiness review?”

“Oh, it’s all very official, Inspector. She even carries around a clipboard with printed forms that have to be filled out.”

Questa said it louder. “ What readiness review?”

“According to Paulette, all ten of the branch’s trucks have to be road tested by the end of the year in order to qualify for the postal service’s budgeted retrofitting program.”

“There is no such program,” Questa said.

“Correct, it’s totally bogus. You know that. Postmaster Zander knows that. And Hank Merrill knew it, too, because he got real peeved when Paulette mentioned it to him in my presence yesterday. But her other carriers didn’t know it. Didn’t give it any thought either. I’m guessing from the look on your face, Inspector, that not one of them even bothered to mention it to your investigators.”

“You’re guessing right.”

“Why would they? It was just a stupid little bureaucratic annoyance. But to Paulette it was everything. It gave her authorization to road test all of the branch’s trucks while her carriers were taking their lunch breaks. No one questioned her authority. She’s the boss. Casey was just a part-timer. No way he could remove a spare set of truck keys from the safe in Paulette’s office. But Paulette could. And she did. Hank told me that three of the carriers have been going to the gym together every day on their lunch break. They leave their vehicles in the Post Office parking lot and walk to the health club at The Works. My guess? She’s been taking their trucks out over and over again. Who’d pay attention to whether she took the same truck out more than once? Who’d even care?”

“I want to make sure that I’m hearing you right,” Grisky said. “Are you saying that Mrs. Zander concocted a fake vehicle-readiness review so she could go out and steal the mail that Hank Merrill had just delivered?”

Des nodded her head. “No one suspected a thing. No one questioned a thing. Hell, it was such a petty matter that I didn’t even think of it until Mitch laid something on me just now at Shoreline Clinic.”

“Laid what on you?” The Aardvark asked.

“That Tommy the Pinhead’s car has a bad tranny. That’s when I remembered the little spat that Paulette and Hank had yesterday about the tranny on his mail truck.”

Paulette sat there grim-faced, saying nothing.

“Hank got way testy when Paulette asked him about it. Unusually so for such an easygoing guy. I couldn’t figure out why. Now I get why-because he knew what you two were up to, didn’t he, Paulette?”

Paulette still didn’t respond. Just reached for a cigarette and lit it.

“How did he know, Paulette?”

“You may as well tell us,” Questa blustered at her. “Your cooperation is all you’ve got going for you right now.”

Paulette let out a hollow laugh. “I have nothing going for me right now. Nothing and no one. So I’ll tell you. Why the hell not?” She drank down some more wine. “Hank came home early from basketball practice the night before last and overheard us arguing in the kitchen.”

“This was the night of Rut’s party?” Des asked, remembering how tense Paulette had seemed. Also how reluctant she’d been to call in the postal inspectors.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“What did Hank overhear?”

“Me telling Casey that I couldn’t keep taking the same trucks out over and over again. That people at work would start to notice. And we’d have to find another way or…” Paulette broke off, her chest rising and falling. “That’s when Hank walked in. He got very, very upset. Told us he was going to call the postal inspectors. Have my boy arrested.”

“Not to mention you. ”

“I didn’t care about myself. I never have. Casey was my son. He needed me. I couldn’t let those thugs hurt him, could I?”

“You didn’t have any money you could give them?”

“I’d already given Casey every penny I could lay my hands on. I didn’t have a cent left. So I did what any mother would do-I helped him. I pleaded with Hank to give us a chance. Hank could be such a Boy Scout sometimes. He said he’d have to ‘think it over.’ That was the best I could get out of him. He wouldn’t even look at me after that. Hardly spoke to me except at Rut’s party. And then, like you just said, he got real angry while you were at the Post Office yesterday.”

“And you got real nervous when you saw me giving him my card. Especially after I told you I’d be looking into the matter while you contacted the postal inspectors. You’d already done everything you could to hold them off. When the folks on Hank’s route started asking where their mail was you ran straight to Rut with it, figuring he’d do his best to keep it local for you. He’s fond of you and you took advantage of that. Tell me, why did you leave all of that torn-up mail on Johnny Cake?”

“Like you said, folks were starting to ask questions. I thought it created a plausible explanation-that maybe a couple of local teenagers were to blame. I was just hoping to buy some time.”

“But you couldn’t buy time with Hank.”

“I asked him what he was going to do,” Paulette recalled bitterly. “He told me that he intended to tell you people everything. He said he had no choice. Which left me with no choice.”

“So you staged Hank’s suicide and made it look like he’d been the grinch. You murdered him to save Casey. And Casey helped you do it. The two of you pulled it off together.”

“Yes,” Paulette admitted. “I got the idea after Bryce Peck took his own life. I thought that maybe we could make it look like Hank took his, too. And have him confess to stealing the mail.”

“Which would wrap the whole mess up in a nice neat bow. And that would be the end of it.”

“Did Bryce Peck have anything to do with stealing those prescription meds from Hank Merrill’s route?” The Aardvark wanted to know.

Paulette shook her head. “Nothing at all.”

Des said, “Casey was your son. You felt you had to rescue him. I get that. But you sacrificed Hank in the process. How could you do that? Didn’t you love him, too?”

Paulette took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Hank was nice to have around. Good company, handy. But I’ve only been in love with one man in my life-my ex-husband Clint. After Clint left me I’ve never let another man into my heart. It’s just been Casey and me.”

“Why don’t you tell us how you and Casey staged Hank’s murder?”

Paulette gazed out the front window at the darkened street. “When Hank came home from work all he wanted to do was play with his train set. He didn’t want to talk to me. I fetched him a beer, like usual. Only this time I added two ground-up Valiums. Within a half hour he was in la-la land. Casey and I walked him out to the garage and got him into the passenger seat of his Passat. I made sure he was slumped over when I backed out of the driveway, just in case one of our neighbors saw us leave.”

“One of your neighbors did. She saw Hank’s car pull out and head toward Frederick Lane. She couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. Assumed it was Hank. And saw no passengers in the car.”