Angel Food and Devil Dogs (39 page)

The morning ground fog had all but cleared and the sky was a brilliant blue with puffy white clouds that looked distinctly like pieces of angel food cake, passing only occasionally in front of a bright yellow sun. Patches of pale grass showed around the snow-covered lawn. The air was crisp and clear. It was a beautiful day for Carl's funeral, which made me suddenly very sad. This was the kind of day that inspired people to want to write music. Carl was one of the rare individuals on earth who could actually do such things well. The edge of a cloud passed in front of the sun, and a perfect rainbow appeared directly over the music building. I made a wish that it stayed in the sky for all Carl's mourners to see.

Bouchet stepped out with the Chaplain, then the main doors burst open and humanity flowed through. The Cohens, Jimmy Harmon's family, Bart and Nancy, and Rowlina Roth-Holtzmann were mixed in the crowd. Farrel and Jessie came through the door with Kathryn. Farrel saw the rainbow and pointed it out to Jessie and Kathryn. Then Farrel introduced Jessie to Max Bouchet. I watched Kathryn's every graceful move. Farrel, Jessie and Kathryn moved along, then stopped just beyond Bouchet to talk to Amanda Knightbridge, who had also spied the rainbow and was pointing it out to others around her. Cora Martin had joined them; so had Judith Levi and Doug Scribner. Sara and Emma exchanged a few words with them, then left for the parking lot.

"Um... Ms. Gale?" Connie Robinson was calling to me, she jogged over to where I was standing.

"Hi, Connie, what's up?"

"Uh, you know that guy Shel?" Connie was still deeply worried about Druckenmacher, it showed in her face.

"He's in jail Connie, and I'll do my best to keep him from bothering you any more," I said firmly.

"Really, can you do that? That would be really good." She was clearly relieved but there was something else on her mind. She said, "I wish I'd stood up to him more."

"You did Connie, you told him no. That took a lot of guts."

"Oh yeah, um, but that was just me, I mean when he was picking on
her
, when everyone was there, she was in that little kitchen, she wanted somebody to stop him."

"Who? Miranda? Miranda was with Shel in the storage kitchen in the Arts Building? When?" This was something new.

Connie shook her head then focused on me. "Oh no, I'm sorry for being such an airhead. Not Miranda, I was talking about that party, not at the College and this was about Shel selling drugs, too."

"Oh," I said hiding disappointment that this wasn't going to be a clue to the bombing. If Shel was linked to the drink bottles, he and Miranda would have moved to top suspects as a team, but I'd jumped ahead. That wasn't what Connie was saying at all. I said to Connie, "I'm sure Druckenmacher harassed other women in the shelter kitchen, I'm not surprised about that..."

We were both startled by a commotion across the lawn. The young man who'd been sitting with Janie Rasmus was calling out, "Dad! Please!..." to Leo Getty, who was on the sidewalk. Leo just waved him off without looking at him.

Janie Rasmus stood by as the woman she'd been sitting with shouted, "You're really a fucking asshole, Leo!"

Leo whirled around in anger. I left Connie without saying goodbye and sped toward the group. Leo turned beet red, he looked like a cartoon character who'd drunk a bottle of Tabasco and was about to blow flames out his ears. There are not that many types of personal relationships that could cause that kind of ire. Obviously, this woman was Leo's ex-wife Barbara. I guessed the phrase
amicable divorce
wasn't in either of their vocabularies.

Leo stared angrily at his ex-wife and son, then turned toward Bouchet with the same hate-filled expression. Then he turned again and hurried off toward the parking lot without looking back.

Janie Rasmus, Barbara Getty and Leo's son got into a car parked at the sidewalk. They sped off before I could run half way across the lawn. Damn, I'd wanted to talk to them, but the Hadesville crowd didn't seem to have any direct link to the murders. I decided there were better uses for my time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miranda Juarez looking worriedly toward a group of cars. I was afraid Shel Druckenmacher might have made bail and was ducking around over there, but it wasn't Shel; it was Jimmy Harmon walking unevenly in the parking lot. He looked like he was crying. He bounced off a parked SUV. I ran after Jimmy, but he got into the passenger side of a minivan and it drove away. At least he'd found the wife and kids. Crap, I was missing everybody.

I went to my van, pulled my little laptop out of my shoulder bag, booted it up and entered some notes to the case file about the piano incident, Jimmy, and Leo. Especially that I had to talk to Jimmy soon, and I added: Bart says he wanted coffee, but is probably lying. Rowlina was well enough to attend. Connie is relieved about Shel Druckenmacher, who had harassed other women at shelter events. Amanda Knightbridge was getting to be way too clairvoyant. Nancy, Bart's girlfriend, may be coming to the end of her rope.

And, I thought, This little private eye is hungry and wants to see her gal, but has to talk to the client first.

"Good grief, Max! How did you manage to get the lab to process the bullet so fast? It's been less than twenty-four hours! We were seated at the dining room table in the President's mansion, the police papers spread out in front of us.

"Well, I do have some pull..." he said.

And tons of money, I thought.

"So they found a bullet in a tree near the Language Arts Building door and it matched the one at Skylar's, and..." I flipped forward to look at another page again, "there were no powder burns on Rowlina's coat." Nothing in the report surprised me.

"We can take this to mean that the person who killed Skylar, shot at Rowlina, which removes her from the suspect list... correct?" rumbled Max.

"Possibly... probably," I nodded, "but suppose this was Rowlina trying to distract suspicion from herself. She sees Kathryn's light on and assumes she's there. Rowlina parks, comes down to the Language Arts Building, she shoots the gun right below Kathryn's window, assuming Kathryn will hear it and call the police. Kathryn isn't there, but a security guard hears the commotion and comes running. Rowlina falls down hitting her head, calls out, and the guard finds her."

"But, what happened to the gun? It wasn't on her and the police searched the area," said Bouchet shaking his head.

"Yeah, you're right, it's a stupid theory. The thing is, I can't come up with any good reason for someone to shoot at Rowlina, and because I can't, I'm thinking of all sorts of outlandish possibilities. I'm not sure why Skylar was killed either, although it was probably because he had information about the bombing."

"I need you to figure this out, Maggie. The inquest is Tuesday..." Bouchet was fidgeting with his collar nervously, displaying an uncommon lack of self possession. He was getting desperate.

"Max, it's all coming together, but I can't promise I'll figure it out by Tuesday. That's less than two days away!"

"I know, I know... but try, OK?" Max rumbled sincerely.

∞ ∞ ∞

After parking at my building, I walked over to Farrel and Jessie's and went right in rather than ringing the bell. These people were my closest friends and family. Most of them were sitting around the big dining table. Doug Scribner and Judith Levi were discussing a play. Cora Martin was talking over her shoulder to Farrel, who was clearing empty dishes from the table. My darling and sometimes annoying sister Sara and her business partner and pal Emma had their heads together trading secrets. Jessie was at the stove. Griswold and Wagner were absent. No doubt Farrel had stashed them in an upstairs bedroom. Otherwise, they'd insist on being the center of attention.

Kathryn was helping Jessie and Farrel clean up the kitchen. When Kathryn looked up and saw me standing in the doorway of the dining room, she put down a dishtowel, fixed her eyes on me and walked slowly forward. Everyone stopped talking. Kathryn put both her hands behind my head and pulled me into a flagrantly sexual kiss. Not to be undone, I tipped her back to make the whole moment more dramatic.

Everyone either laughed or hooted or both. Kathryn breathed in my ear, "After all I've had to endure in last two days, I just had to embarrass you a little in front of your friends."

I whispered back, "Feel free to kiss me like that anytime."

Emma said in a low voice to Sara, "Kathryn's like that woman on Star Trek, the captain with the sexy voice."

Cora said to Judith, "Who is that actress she reminds me of? Patricia Neal?"

Judith responded with, "I've been thinking Katherine Hepburn, but more substantial."

I said hello to everyone, kissing Doug on the cheek because I hadn't seen him for a while. Then I went into the kitchen with Kathryn to see if Jessie had anything leftover for me to eat. I was starving. Jessie scooped up a helping of egg casserole baked in a crisp hash brown potato crust, layered with cheese, and topped with thick bacon and roasted red peppers. On the side she slipped two light fluffy waffles, which I topped with maple syrup.

"We haven't had dessert yet," said Jessie, "so hurry up and eat this so you can have some. Look, I have some andouille for you, just a little piece." She dropped a chunk of my favorite sausage on my plate, then shooed both me and Kathryn out of her kitchen.

"Did you get enough to eat?" I asked Kathryn as we sat down at the table.

"I'm so full, I'll never be able to eat again, you should have warned me," she groaned. I noticed there was a half-full Cafalatte bottle at her place.

"I told you she was the best cook ever."

Everyone at the brunch had known Carl in one way or another, except me. Though now I felt I knew him well. Judith and Cora were both docents at the symphony and had chatted with Carl when they were on duty. Farrel and Kathryn had known him from the College, and Jessie had met him on several occasions at Irwin musical events. Doug, who was gay and who was about Carl's age, had been in a play at the local community theater for which Carl had been musical director. It turned out they'd spent quite a bit of time together during the run.

I finished the last bite of waffle and put my fork aside. I was staring out the window into the courtyard when Kathryn reached under the table and squeezed my hand.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.

"Carl," I said simply. She smiled sadly and nodded.

As if on cue, Farrel looked around to be sure everyone had something to drink, then raising her glass, she said simply, "Let's toast Carl."

We all raised our glasses, saying Carl's name. I was moved by the sincere expression on each face. Before the silence threatened to become oppressive, Jessie said, "I thought we should have angel food cake for dessert. Carl liked it. I have strawberries to go with it."

Kathryn asked me quietly, "Does she always cook like this?"

I turned to the crowd, "Kathryn wants to know if Jessie always cooks like this?"

Jessie said, "No, no."

Everyone else said, "Yes," in unison.

Farrel added confidentially, "I used to be a lot thinner." Then she turned to Jessie and said, "Do you want me to get the pies now?" Jessie nodded.

Farrel brought out a sizable dish filled with half-moon-shaped pastries.

"These are really something, but they're kind of rich," she said. They were light pie dough filled with apple, blueberry or cherry pie filling, deep fried and covered with a sugar glaze. I'd had them before. They were habit forming.

I took a blueberry pie and shared part of it with Kathryn, who moaned appreciatively at first bite. I rapidly finished the rest trying not to imagine myself expanding into a giant blueberry like Violet Beauregard in the Willy Wonka movie. The others were groaning that they were too full, but I noticed they all took helpings of the fluffy angel food and strawberries and most took at least one of the small pies.

Farrel sat down again helping herself to cake, then said, "Judith, tell that story you told me the other day." When Judith looked blank, Farrel said, "You know..." then leaned in, reminding Judith in an undertone. Farrel had known Judith for almost thirty years. Judith had been Farrel's English teacher when Farrel was a college sophomore. They'd eventually become friends, and when Farrel had taken the job at Irwin, she'd encouraged Judith to join Irwin's English department. Now in her mid-70s, Judith was long retired. Farrel and Jessie treated her like a beloved aunt. They considered her family, so by extension, she was part of my family too.

Judith waved her hand saying, "Oh well, that was really nothing... not really a story, just... what are you always calling it, Farrel?
A brush with fame?
" She went on to tell a fascinating story about meeting
Yardbird
at a jazz club in New York in the 1950s. Judith had actually been on the radio in her early career and had a wonderful speaking voice.

Emma asked in awe, "You hung out with... Charlie Parker?"

Farrel was grinning and nodding.

Judith nodded, "He was very nice. Quite amazing music..."

"Hard to top," said Kathryn under her breath, so only I could hear.

"She always is," I whispered back.

"Oh, I forgot something," said Doug heading for the pantry.

Sara caught my eye and asked softly, "Did you get the list back?" She meant the criminal checklist of people who'd gone to Daria's party. Emma was listening for my response.

I shook my head. "It might be there now. I'll call you if there's anything."

Sara and Emma nodded, then Sara went on in a more conversational tone, "Oh, I have to tell you all this thing Emma and I found out about our office window in the back." By now everyone was listening. "If you look down and a little to the right, you can see right into the bedroom window of..." she named a prominent conservative elected official whom she usually referred to as Mayor McCheese, though he wasn't the Mayor. "And, well, you all know, I'm a notorious peeker."

"Really?" said Kathryn with mock curiosity. Several people at the table barked laughter.