Fete Worse Than Death (9781101595138) (18 page)

Dina had attached a sticky note to the letter.
Sorry! (What a jerk!!!!)
and added a smiley face.

Quill looked at her desk clock: it was seven fifteen and she wanted to go straight back to bed.

She waited until seven thirty to call Elmer and leave a message that the emergency meeting of the fete committee would be at his office, not hers. The mayor’s office was on the second floor of the municipal building, steps away from the sheriff’s office and the jail and a block from Howie Murchison’s law offices. With luck, the committee would beg Adela to come back and run the fete, and she would be free to talk to Davy Kiddermeister about Linda Connelly and the missing funds, and to Howie Murchison about Porter Swenson’s litigious threats. If the innkeeping gods were on her side today, she could be back home for lunch with Jack.

Great. She’d go downstairs, find Althea at breakfast, and tell her that if she didn’t support Quill’s motion to reinstate Adela, she, Althea, would be a wonderful candidate to run the fete.

So why did she have the feeling things were out of control?

~

She grabbed her tote and went to find Althea, who was, as she expected, breakfasting with Nolan on the terrace of the Tavern Lounge. The sun was up and the air smelled like fresh grass. Mike the groundskeeper had placed tubs of Martha Washington geraniums on the flagstones, and the brilliant pink blossoms were cheering. Despite the murder, the lawsuit, and the imminent arrival of tens of thousands of tourists in Hemlock Falls to attend a director-less fete, Quill’s mood was optimistic.

“So we’re meeting with the mayor at nine this morning,” she said to Althea, who had readily agreed that Adela was irreplaceable, “and you’re going to back me up when I tell them I am not, not, not taking charge of this fete.”

“Absolutely.”

“Would you like to ride down with me?”

“Certainly, my dear. But do you really think the committee will bring Adela back? That silly Citizens for Justice league has petered out, but feeling in town seems to be running pretty high. That hundred grand is still gone-zo.”

“The steering committee doesn’t have any option. We have to bring Adela back. So we’ll settle that, and then we can walk down to the jail and talk to Sheriff Kiddermeister about the progress of the investigation into the missing money. I have a feeling we’re going to find it’s all a giant mistake…Marge put her computer tech onto it yesterday, and I’ll just bet she’s gotten some solid results.”

“The heck with the missing money,” Althea boomed. “What about the murder? That’s a far bigger opportunity for some real investigation.”

She’d abandoned her purple scarves for bright yellow and orange this morning. Quill fought the urge to have a word with her about her hair color and won. The clash of colors had a certain raffish charm.

“Well, any murder would be, of course, but this one’s a matter for the state police, don’t you think? I can’t imagine that anyone from Hemlock Falls killed Linda Connelly. She’d been here less than two days.” Quill cleared her throat in a deprecatory way. “The cases I’ve been able to solve in the past were mostly due to the fact that I know the village very well.”

“Hometown advantage,” Althea said. “There’s a lot to be said for that. So you don’t think this a little local murder? I bet it is. She managed to lethally annoy almost everyone she ran into in the two days she was here. I can think of three people who wouldn’t mind caving her head in with a tire iron right off the bat.”

The couple at the table next to them got up abruptly and left the terrace.

“Althea, my love,” Nolan said. “You might lower the decibel level a trifle.”

“Emptying the room again, am I?” Althea grinned. “Too bad. Back to the murder. Look at how obnoxious the woman was. She was right on the money in her speech to those justice league idiots but she could have delivered the bad news in a much less brutal way. Did you see the look Spinoza gave her? If looks could kill, Connelly would have keeled over on the spot. Brady Beale was spitting nails, too.”

“I didn’t see you there,” Quill said, surprised.

“I told you I meant to go in undercover. I was in disguise.”

“You were?”

Althea, clearly delighted, examined her fingernails with an insincere air of unconcern. Quill grabbed her hand and stared. “Is that grease under your fingernails?”

“Motor oil.”

Quill thought back to the scene at the car dealer’s. “Oh, my goodness. You were one of the mechanics?”

“I was, indeed.” She sipped her coffee, delicately. “It’s my height, you know. It’s a terrific advantage in crowds. Not as much when a disguise is needed. Sherlock Holmes was tall, too. But he was better at crouching than I am. The old knees aren’t what they used to be.”

Quill took a deep breath. “Tell me you weren’t…that you didn’t…”

“Discover the body? I did. You may place the continued health and well-being of that gigantic cat directly at my door.”

“But.” Quill didn’t know which question to ask first. “What did you do there all day? The meeting broke up around twelve thirty, didn’t it?”

“Did a couple of lube jobs and rotated a set of tires. Figured I should hang around and see that the organization had really petered out. I don’t trust that Brady Beale as far as I could pitch him, and Spinoza’s just as sneaky. Pilfering those funds isn’t something Spinoza’s up for, although I’ve been wrong before, haven’t I, Nolan?”

“Not often, my love.”

“But Brady’s another story. I just wanted to get a peek at the history on his laptop—see if he’d visited any bank sites lately.”

“Did you? Get a peek at his laptop, I mean?”

“In a manner of speaking. With all the brouhaha over the body, I didn’t have a chance to do my peeking on-site.” She glanced down at her tote, which she’d parked under her feet. “So I brought it back with me.”

“You stole Brady Beale’s computer?”

“Borrowed it,” Althea corrected with a minatory air. “I would have looked at it last night, but I’m afraid the long day caught up with me. I’m ashamed to say I fell asleep.”

“We neither of us are as young as we used to be,” Nolan murmured.

Quill stared at Althea’s tote. It was made of straw, with yarn butterflies stitched on the side. She could make out the faint outline of a thin, laptop-sized rectangle. “You borrowed Brady Beale’s laptop?”

“I did.”

Quill felt a little light-headed.

Althea checked her watch, which was a big stainless-steel item totally in keeping with her dress and demeanor. “I’ve got five minutes to nine. Shall we scamper on down to the mayor’s office?”

“Yes,” Quill said dazedly. “Sure.” She picked up her tote and slung it over her shoulder. “My car’s just out back.”

Althea gave Nolan a hearty kiss on the cheek, swallowed the last of her cherry turnover in two large bites, and followed Quill across the terrace to her car. “You may be wondering how I obtained a job as a mechanic at Peterson Automotive.”

“I am.” Quill opened the passenger side door of her
Honda. Althea swung in with surprising grace for a woman her size.

“I called Marge Schmidt for assistance. That is one capable lady. She carries the business insurance for just about everyone in Hemlock Falls. The woman’s a gold mine of information. One of the mechanics is a kid just out of high school…a Peterson, as a matter of fact. Zeke Peterson. I assume that it’s short for Ezekiel, who was one of the minor prophets, if I am not mistaken.”

“They’re everywhere,” Quill said. “Petersons, not prophets. There’s a billion of them in Hemlock Falls.” She started the Honda and pulled onto the drive that led into Main Street.

“So I called the kid. Said I was from the New York state lottery and he had to go to Syracuse to pick up his winnings. Then I showed up at Peterson Automotive in Zeke’s place.”

“How did you know Zeke Peterson bought lottery tickets?”

“All nineteen-year-old grease monkeys buy lottery tickets. Just like they all drink beer.”

Quill didn’t bother to challenge this. After all, Althea’s ploy had worked. “He went all the way to Syracuse for nothing? Poor kid.”

Althea looked at her, amused. “Aren’t you the bleeding heart, though? No, no. Don’t get ruffled. I’m just as bad. I left a couple hundred in cash in the kid’s mailbox in an ordinary number ten white envelope.”

The parking lot in the municipal building was almost full, which meant that Howie Murchison was holding
traffic court. Quill pulled into a parking space next to a black-and-white police cruiser. She was very aware of the stolen laptop in Althea’s possession. Howie could probably handle the letter over the lawsuit and defend Althea against a stolen property charge with one hand tied behind his back. And she’d decided that she really wanted a look at Brady’s computer.

“Look at all this! Town court, mayor’s office, sheriff’s office all in one place,” Althea said. “And every building on Main Street seems to be made of cobblestone. This is just great.”

“We aren’t very large as a village, really. Just under four thousand people. It’s the tourists that drive the economy here.” Quill put the Honda into park and sat there, scanning the parking lot.

“You don’t look as sprightly as you might, girlfriend. We’re going to go into the mayor’s office, vote to reinstate Adela as chair of the fete, and get cracking on our murder, aren’t we?”

“Maybe. That’s Harvey Bozzel’s Nissan there, right next to Dolly Jean’s Taurus, which is right next to Carol Ann’s Escalade. I don’t think they’re all here for traffic court. They’re here to try to bully Elmer.”

“Today’s traffic court?”

“Third Thursday of the month. Like clockwork.”

“But all these people mean Adela’s doomed?”

“Doomed is the word, I think. Me, too, if I end up getting elected head of the steering committee. I’ll tell you something, if they try to stick me with the job, I. Am. Not. Doing. It. Got that?”

Althea nodded vigorously.

Quill sighed and got out of the car. “Hang on. There’s Marge’s pickup truck. If she’s at this meeting, it’s because she’s found something out about the money. Maybe Adela’s not toast after all.”

An outside staircase on the east end of the building led directly to the mayor’s office. Quill nudged Althea in its direction. “Would you mind going up and seeing if she’s there? If not, I’ll give her a call. Don’t bother with your tote. I’ll bring it up.”

Althea bounded up the staircase, her scarves floating gaily in the breeze. She disappeared inside, then reemerged, and gave Quill a thumbs-up.

Quill waved her back in, then ducked into the Honda and stashed the laptop under the driver’s seat. She grabbed her tote as well as Althea’s and went up the stairs.

The door opened into a tiny reception area, with a ficus in a wood pot and two molded plastic chairs. A door leading to Elmer’s office sported a brass plaque that read:
THE HONORABLE MAYOR OF THE VILLAGE OF HEMLOCK FALLS
. A large black plastic sign beneath it had
ELMER B. HENRY
in etched white letters. The door was partway open. Carol Ann’s sweetly precise tones wafted nastily through the opening. “What do you mean, Miami? How come that money got routed through Miami? Miami’s full of drug smugglers and Colombian dope fiends. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Adela Henry got mixed up with them.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Elmer shouted. “You lay off my wife!”

Althea and Quill entered the mayor’s office together. It was a large room, running the length of the south end of the municipal building. Elmer’s desk sat in the middle, in front of four double-hung windows that looked out over Maple Street. The American flag, the flag of New York State, and a banner with the village emblem ranged on either side.

At the far end of the room, a round conference table seated up to a dozen people. Elmer sat with his back against the wall. Carol Ann paced up and down the indoor-outdoor carpeting, waving her arms. Dolly Jean and Harvey were huddled together in the far corner. Dookie sat on Elmer’s right. Marge sat on Elmer’s left. She was scowling. She looked past Carol Ann as Quill came in. “’Bout time you got here.”

“It’s just on nine,” Althea said. “We’re not late. You’re early.” She pulled out a chair and sat down with a noisy crash. “So. What’s going on?”

“My tech guy found the money. It’s in the Cayman Islands. Transferred electronically through a Miami bank two days ago.”

Quill sat down with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I mean, I’m sorry the money got moved, but I’m sure glad you found it. Now we can ask Adela to come back.”

“So Adela can just put it back and it’s business as usual?” Dolly Jean said disapprovingly. “That doesn’t seem right. You can say all you want to say about bygones being bygones, but I ask you.”

“Adela didn’t take it,” Marge said bluntly. “Unless she made a trip to Florida recently?”

“We were planning on a trip in November to see my cousins,” Elmer said. “But we haven’t been near the place this year.”

Marge tapped her file emphatically. “My tech guy went through both the Henrys’ computers and he couldn’t find a thing linking them with any Miami bank. Unless you think Elmer’s a lot smarter than I know him to be, they’re in the clear.”

Elmer looked as if he were trying to work Marge’s statement into a compliment. He gave it up and glared at Carol Ann. “See! I told you it was all a mistake.”

“You got hacked,” Harvey said with a knowing air. “Happens all the time.”

“Like you’d know anything about it,” Marge said rudely. “But yeah. The account got hacked.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Carol Ann snarled.

“You’re not important,” Althea said, without a particle of malice. “The important thing is the cops. What’d your local guy do, Marge, turn this over to the state fraud unit?”

“He had to. The experts are up in Albany.”

“And let’s hope they remain there.” Althea reached out one long arm and plucked the file away from Marge. “May I?” She flipped through the contents, shaking her head all the while. “Wow. Wow. This mean anything to you, Marge?”

Marge reached up and grabbed it back. “Mean anything to you, Mrs. Quince?”

“Not a thing!” Althea said cheerfully. “But if this proves Adela’s innocence, I say, go for it.”