Authors: Gin Jones
Dale shrugged. "He says he's doing it out of respect for Sheryl, and I believe him. He's probably also trying to make sure he continues to have a job. Like most of us, he counts on his paycheck and doesn't have much saved up. If he doesn't take on the management duties, it's likely no one else would step up, the work would grind to a halt, and he wouldn't get paid. I can't really see Cory O'Keefe taking over the day-to-day management of a company as busy as Toth Construction."
Helen couldn't either. It would take too much time away from his golfing. "How desperate is Marty to keep his job?"
"No more than anyone else," Dale said. "And if you're wondering if he might have killed Sheryl to keep his job, I doubt it. If anyone killed her, I'd be more inclined to suspect Wes Quattrone. He's desperate to expand the retirement community, and while he's never going to get the garden's land, I have to admit that it would be a perfect location for what he wants to do."
"I heard he threatened Sheryl once. Do you think he'd actually kill over a business deal?"
Dale glanced past Helen into the hallway and then lowered her voice to a confidential level. "I'm not a conspiracy theorist like Marty, but there are rumors that Quattrone is
connected
. Just like some trash removal companies are tied to the mob, so are some assisted-living enterprises. Not all of them, of course, but there are lots of opportunities in that type of business for committing a variety of crimes, from fraud to money laundering. Plus, it takes a huge investment to get one of those places started, and legal sources of venture capital have been pretty limited in recent years. No one knows how Wes financed Wharton Meadows, especially since he didn't have any experience in the field. I can't really see Wes himself going so far as to commit premeditated murder, but he does have a temper. And if he has the wrong kind of backers, they might not hesitate to kill. Not with all the money they'd miss out on if Sheryl blocked them from expanding."
Helen really needed to talk to Lily and see what could be turned up about Wharton Meadows' financial condition. Of course, Dale's theories about Quattrone having mob backing could be as much a delusion as Marty's conspiracy theory.
"If some mobster killed Sheryl for potentially getting in the way of Wharton Meadows' expansion, aren't you worried that they'll target you for your efforts to block the sale of the community garden?"
"I wish they'd try," Dale said. "I can defend myself, and when I handed them over to the cops, everyone would know who had killed Sheryl and why."
"Still, it's risky," Helen said. "Why is the garden so important to you? Not just that there's a place for people to grow things, but this specific location? I've heard that there's another site that's bigger and more convenient."
"You must have been talking to Annie," Dale said dismissively. "She didn't think I knew, but I hear everything in this town. Annie thought she could convince Sheryl to donate some unbuildable land for use as a community garden, complete with permanent easements preventing it from ever being sold."
"It seems like a reasonable compromise to me."
"That's because you're not a veteran gardener," Dale said. "We've spent years improving the soil here, keeping it organic, studying the microclimate. No two pieces of land have identical growing conditions, you know, not within an agricultural zone and not even within a single town."
"But is the current garden really so much better that it's worth a person's life?"
"If you're asking whether I might have killed Sheryl to protect the garden, the answer is no." Dale was surprisingly calm about the idea that she might be a suspect. "I'm not saying Sheryl didn't get under my skin. She could be a jerk sometimes. Did you know she continued to include a
no laundry lines
covenant in all her homeowners association bylaws, even though she knew no one wanted the restriction? I think she did it just to annoy me. But I didn't have to kill her to get that restriction deleted any more than I had to kill her to keep the garden where it belongs. Developers may have money on their side, but we've got right on our side."
"In my experience, being right doesn't always carry the day."
"Oh, trust me. I know." Dale finally let some emotion seep through her calm exterior, huffing in frustration. "It shouldn't have come to this. I had everything lined up to designate the land exclusively for recreational use, but then the selectmen got cold feet and insisted on additional time to consider it. That opened the way to Sheryl's death and people thinking the land should be sold in case one of the gardeners killed her."
"Don't you think the selectmen might have been tempted to sell it anyway?" Over the years, Helen had seen her husband struggling with budgets for both the state and its municipalities as the expenses of its employees' health care and pensions were outstripping the ability to pay for them. "Most municipalities have pretty tight budgets these days and wouldn't turn down any reasonable source of revenue. It's not just the immediate proceeds from the sale of the land that they'd be getting but also the future stream of tax revenue once the property is privately owned."
"Perhaps," Dale said. "All I know is that bickering among ourselves won't help. We need to work together. I mean, I'm sorry Sheryl's dead and all, but why couldn't it have happened somewhere else?"
"It is a bit ironic that the garden killed her."
"Poetic justice," Dale corrected. "Now Fred can rest in peace."
Helen had forgotten about Fred Lawson. There had actually been two deaths related to the one piece of land in just a few months. "People are going to think the land is jinxed, what with two owners dying within a few weeks of each other."
"According to the death certificate, Fred died of old age, nothing unnatural," Dale said.
Death certificates could be wrong, Helen thought. Especially if the town's homicide detective was someone like Hank Peterson. After all, if it had been up to him alone, everyone would still think Sheryl's death had been an accident.
Helen checked her phone on the way out of town hall, but her nieces still hadn't returned her calls and texts. She tried Adam to see if he'd heard from Lily yet, but his new receptionist said he was in a closing and would be tied up for another hour or so.
With the garden still off-limits and no new suspects to consider, Helen would have liked to discuss her options with Tate. On the other hand, she wasn't sure exactly what she'd do if he hadn't gotten over his fit of jealousy. She was hoping he'd have become his usual rational self by lunchtime, and she could pretend yesterday's little disagreement had never happened. If she showed up early, he might get the wrong idea, thinking she was coming to apologize when she had nothing to be sorry for.
She still had about an hour until their usual lunchtime, plenty of time to see if Cory O'Keefe knew anything about the barricading of the garden. As the chair of the board of selectmen, he would be among the first to hear if the police had found the bulldozer's key and if it had led to any useful evidence.
Jack dropped her off in front of the real estate agency. On her way to the front door, she heard the buzz of a table saw from behind the building. She turned to follow the sound, reasonably certain it meant that Cory wasn't in his office. She found him installing trim on the reproduction of the Wharton Meadows administrative building.
Cory wore ear and eye protection much like Tate's, and she knew from past experience that it wasn't a good idea to startle someone working with power tools.
Helen waited until the table saw was safely shut off and Cory's ear and eye protection had been removed before saying hello.
"I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, Helen. Have you figured out what happened to Sheryl already?"
"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've got a bunch of suspects, all with means, motive, and opportunity, but no smoking gun. Or bulldozer key, in this case. Do you know if the police found it?"
"It's not anywhere in the garden," Cory said. "They searched every inch with metal detectors and a bunch of advanced equipment that I didn't even know existed until Hank called to tell me they'd struck out."
"I was afraid of that."
"Don't be discouraged," he said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Perhaps you just need a break to relax and not think about it. Isn't that when the best inspirations come along? When you're not trying too hard?"
That hadn't been her experience, but she didn't have any better options. At least not until she got the chance to discuss the case with Tate. He always helped her to see things in a different light.
"I've got just the thing to take your mind off the murder." Cory nodded at a life-sized drawing pinned to the back wall of the strip mall above from the table saw. "I've been making progress on the new hole. You can see how much closer it's getting to the drawings. I got a copy of the as-built drawings from the building department and scaled them down."
Helen glanced from the drawings to the almost complete miniature version at the end of the course and then back again.
"Well?" he said. "What do you think? They're accurate in every detail, from the overall dimensions to the size of the bricks and even the color of the paint on the trim. Everyone thinks it's white, but it's actually a really, really pale blue. They chose it to give a subliminal message of calm to the residents."
She stared at the scraps of the trim near the table saw. They looked white to her. She turned back to Cory to say so. She was always honest with Tate about his projects, and not all of them were as successful as his trenchers and chopsticks. But then she noticed that Cory was looking at her like her nieces used to back when they'd been in elementary school and had brought her a handmade Valentine's Day card and asked if she liked it. She'd quickly learned that the only acceptable response was that it was the "Best. Card. Ever."
Helen had a feeling that Cory had similarly high expectations. It made sense that a politician would need validation. And yet, she felt silly even thinking about saying that it was the "Best. Golf Course. Ever." She settled for the response that her nieces had accepted when they were a little older. "It's perfect."
Judging by the relieved expression on Cory's face, she'd said the right thing. He probably got a lot of teasing about playing with toys instead of doing something important. She might not understand his fascination with miniature buildings herself, but she was in no position to judge anyone for his choice of hobby when she couldn't even decide on one for herself. If nothing else, she had to admire the passion he showed for his pastime.
"Come on over, and get a closer look." He led the way, carrying the little pieces of wood he'd just cut. "I had the trim boards custom-milled to match the profile on the original building. It's been a hassle mitering it in a few places, but I think it's worth it."
Helen followed him along the artificial turf to the end of the course. The morning's stiffness still hadn't gone away. Probably because of the unaccustomed rushing around she'd done to be ready before Rebecca arrived.
Cory was explaining all about the architectural elements of the building. She didn't recognize half of the terms he used, but she had to admit that even up close, the miniature administrative building looked exactly like the real thing. Except, of course, for its reduced size and the places where it had been modified to serve as a challenge for the players on the course. The main entrance's doors were propped open, and about six inches in front of them was a little figure in a wheelchair, accompanied by an assistant to push the chair, and two friends, one with a walker and one with a cane.
"Look what happens when I turn on the power." Cory flipped a switch, and the little group of figures rose about six inches into the air supported by a chunk of turf that matched their surroundings and then lowered to block the entrance to the administrative building. Only then did Helen notice that the base beneath the figures was attached to a see-through plastic bar that connected it with the flagpole where a motor was apparently concealed underneath. The figures rose and lowered again in a ten-second cycle, providing brief access to the building for the golf ball and then blocking it again.
It really was ingenious, Helen thought, even if it wasn't something she could imagine getting terribly excited about. "I bet no one else has anything like that on a miniature golf course."
Cory lit up. "That's it exactly. It's nice to find someone who understands. Sheryl always thought I was wasting my time and my talents. Of course, she had a personal interest in discouraging my work here. She wanted to hire me for an in-house position at her construction company. Probably figured it would be less expensive to have me on her payroll than to hire an independent architect for each of her projects. Besides, she always did love telling people what to do. In fact, leaving me her construction company was her way of controlling me from beyond the grave. She probably assumed I'd feel obliged to use my training on
real
projects once I had the resources to make full-sized buildings."
"Was she right?" Helen asked. "Are you going to take over Toth Construction?"
He shook his head. "No way. I'll keep it going until I can find someone to buy it. If no one's interested, I'll make sure her crew has new jobs first, and then I'll sell off the assets."
"Including the land that Annie wants to move the garden to?"
"Whether I keep the business or not, I'll give that land to the gardeners. Even as a licensed broker, it would be more trouble trying to sell it than it's worth."
If the gardeners had the alternative land, then the case for keeping the original property was weak. Dale might believe the two properties weren't interchangeable and could even offer some complicated explanations for why, but Helen doubted the selectmen would understand any better than she did as a novice gardener. "Does that mean you'll be voting in favor of selling the existing land?"
"No." Cory applied glue to the back of one of the trim pieces. "Perhaps I should have stated my position earlier, but I am a politician after all. I figured it wouldn't hurt to let Dale rally the troops so I'd have clear support for my vote. I've always thought Fred's land should remain as a community garden. I'm sure that's what he intended. I've even been talking to RJ about getting an option to buy his father's property if he ever wants to sell it so we could expand the garden. A few of the local teachers have wanted to start a sustainability project that includes growing food, but there isn't anywhere to put it on existing school property. The Averys' land would be a great location. It's walking distance from the middle school, and the kids could learn, not just from their own plots, but from what's growing in the community garden."