The Grave Soul by Ellen Hart Page A

about Doug?”
    â€œI thought I got to pick.”
    As they reached the outskirts of downtown St. Paul, traffic on the freeway began to thin. “My apologies.”
    â€œDamn straight.” Pulling a pack of bubble gum out of the pocket of her cape, Cordelia unwrapped a lump and popped it in her mouth. “Care for something to rot your teeth?”
    â€œThanks. I’ll pass.”
    â€œDouglas Adolf Adler.” She glanced at Jane. “Gives you the urge to salute, doesn’t it?”
    â€œKeep going.”
    Cordelia hummed and chewed as she scanned the information. “Three years older than Kevin, two years older than Hannah. Degree from U-Madison in journalism in 1981. Worked at the New Dresden Herald until he inherited it in 1994. Married Laurie Ann Sherman in 1980. No children. Closed the doors in 2003. No criminal record, but he has … let me count.” She paused. “Nineteen speeding violations over a period of twelve years. Jeez, he’s really got a lead foot. One DUI a year ago. Nothing since. He currently works as a forklift operator at Vaughn’s Lumber in New Dresden.”
    â€œA big comedown from being the editor of the local paper,” said Jane. She never expected a lot from background checks, though she never knew what piece of information might turn out to be important. “And finally, Hannah Adler?”
    Cordelia blew a bubble and flipped to the last report. “Hannah Justine Adler. Medical degree in gastroenterology and family medicine from U-Madison medical school. Never married. No children. Primary employer is Northside Medical Care in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. No criminal record. Boring, boring, boring.” She took off her reading glasses and replaced them with sunglasses “That was an exercise in futility. Where’s all the good stuff? The dirt. The gossip. The real grist for our sleuthing mill.”
    Jane had spent last night assembling a list of information she was hoping to ferret out in the next two days. Anything that moved her closer to understanding who Delia Alder had been, what problems and issues she’d been dealing with in the months, weeks, and days before she died, would push Jane nearer to the reason for her murder, and hopefully, ultimately, shine a light on the identity of her killer.
    Beyond family members, Jane needed to locate several significant players: the police officer who’d come to the scene of Delia’s death; the coroner who, in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, had ruled that death accidental; and finally, the name of the undertaker who’d handled Delia’s remains, sending them off to be cremated.
    To break this case open, all Jane needed was to convince one of those last three people to tell the truth. Straightforward enough, though hardly a simple task. Twenty years after the fact, with a potential prison sentence hanging over their heads for colluding to cover up a murder, getting even one of them to talk would be next to impossible.
    Still, Jane had made a promise to give Guthrie two days. And two days it would be.

 
    14
    The Timber Lodge Motel on Birch Lake had been recently renovated. It was pure north woods kitsch, here and there even a little garish, though taste aside, most of the carpeting and furnishings were new. Jane stood at the reception desk and signed for two rooms on the second floor. When the woman behind the counter gestured to the stairs, saying that the motel didn’t have an elevator, Jane sent up a silent prayer of thanks that all trunks had been left at home.
    As Cordelia freshened up in her room, Jane sat down in her connecting room with the background information on the Adlers. She was specifically interested in the address of the house where Kevin and Delia had been living when Delia had died. She found it fairly quickly and tapped it into her phone’s GPS. Checking the distance, she saw that it wasn’t more than two miles away.
    Once