Boston Scream Murder

by Ginger Bolton

  “No. He mentioned playing the piano, but he said his fingers didn’t work as well as they used to.”

  “He wasn’t, like, super-famous, but kind of.”

  “What was in the photo?” I thought I knew.

  “It was Hank with Rich’s wife. They were only teenagers, so Hank knew Patty long before Hank bought the house next door to Rich and Patty. I got the impression that Rich didn’t like Hank displaying a picture of Rich’s wife. He marked Hank’s house down for every little fault and discounted the fact that the property was waterfront. Then, later, he called Hank in to the bank. I took notes in that meeting, too. Hank seemed to think he was there to sign the papers for the second mortgage, but Rich told Hank that the bank wouldn’t grant one. He said it kindly.”

  I was having no trouble picturing this meeting, and Rich being the apologetic but superior—and powerful—bearer of bad news. I looked into her face. “What happened next?”

  She was gazing down at the donut she had not yet touched. “Rich bought the cottage. He was proud of paying way below market for it. The value has gone up in the meantime, and he has been making money renting it out, besides. It was clever, but . . .”

  I could hardly breathe. Terri had told me why Hank might have killed Rich. I asked, “Is that why you stopped to talk to Hank on Tuesday, Terri?”

  “Yes, to, you know, clear the air and apologize. I could have done or said something at the time that could have helped Hank end up with the cottage. I didn’t want to get Rich into trouble, so I didn’t. But on Tuesday Rich and I were planning for me to move in with him. Since Hank lived next door, I thought Hank and I should start on the right footing as neighbors, so I reached out a friendly hand.”

  I couldn’t help picturing our latest version of zombie donuts puffing up and reaching out not-so-friendly hands—and feet—toward one another in their bath of boiling oil. “What did you do after you talked to Hank on Tuesday morning?” She and her canoe had appeared on the beach, but I wasn’t sure where she’d been before that. Hank had burst through the hedge between his and Rich’s properties. I again saw Terri removing that spray of cedar from Hank’s hair in a gesture that had appeared tender and familiar.

  “I went back out and canoed around the lake, listening and watching for birds, and I stayed out there until about noon, the time Rich said I could return. I was going to run upstairs and change my clothes, but I could tell from the way you were acting that something was wrong. I heard the sirens and knew that something had happened. I never expected it to be as terrible as it was, though.” She looked up at me. “You saw me canoeing out in the lake, didn’t you?” She opened her eyes wide. “Say you did.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I heard someone out there, though. I thought it was an aluminum canoe.”

  “That’s what I thought I heard, too. Maybe someone saw me, maybe the person in the aluminum canoe. And I don’t know what Hank was doing between the time I left him and the time you found Rich.” She gave me a sidelong look as if that last statement was her entire reason for coming in. Was she hoping to spread a rumor that she’d been with Hank part of the time when Rich could have been murdered, but not all of it, and therefore Hank had time alone and could have murdered Rich? She leaned toward me. “If you were the first one to find Rich, how come the police aren’t questioning you about his death? No offense, but you were, like, the only one with him. You could have . . . well, as I said, no offense.”

  Maybe this hinted allegation was her real reason for visiting Deputy Donut. “They did question me.” I gestured toward the rest of the café. People were talking and laughing and enjoying the treats that Jocelyn and Nina were serving. Actual jack-o’-lanterns smiled from corners. “The police know from talking to people that I was still here when Rich died.” The medical examiner couldn’t pinpoint the time of death, but he could come close. I didn’t tell Terri that three of the five officers who were first on the scene were close friends of mine, but I pointed out, “Anyone who was invited to Rich’s party could have come early. Do you know who all was invited?”

  “I’m not sure I remember, now, and the investigators took all of Rich’s notes.”

  “Have you thought more about why people were left off the guest list, and who they were? It could be important.”

  She stared at me between half-closed eyelids for long and uncomfortable seconds. “I . . . that list was written before Rich invited some people, like other people he might have dated, you know? I put that list where those people would see it because as far as I was concerned, they weren’t welcome, and I wanted them to figure that out. Rich was my boyfriend.” She closed her mouth tightly with her lower lip sticking out on one side. “So, I left a couple of people off the list, like that woman and man that he invited when we were in here on Monday afternoon and I was trying to get him to leave after Derek scared me.”

  “Cheryl and Steve.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Whatever their names were. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  She’d admitted leaving people off the guest list without quite admitting that she’d written it. Having seen her handwriting on the wills and on that envelope, I was sure she had. Why had she pretended on Thursday evening outside her town house that she hadn’t known why people were left off the list? Maybe her petty behavior embarrassed her, or maybe there was a more sinister reason, like a conspirator’s name that she hadn’t wanted anyone to see. Derek’s name had not been on that list, and, I realized, neither had Hank’s. I asked, “From where you were sitting, up on the hill near Rich’s deck, you couldn’t see everyone who was pulling into Rich’s driveway on the other side of the house, but did you see or hear of any uninvited people coming to Rich’s party?”

  “Just Derek.” Her lips puckered as if pronouncing his name was like sucking on a lemon.

  “Did Rich invite Hank to the party?”

  She stared toward the office. “Not as far as I know.”

  Wondering what Dep was doing in the office that seemed to be catching Terri’s attention, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell the police about coming in off the lake, talking to Hank, and going back out canoeing?”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking. I was too stressed. I was gone from Rich’s place the entire time, so that was sort of like being out on the lake.”

  Sort of, I thought, but not exactly.

  As if she were going to carve faces in the fudge frosting of her Boston cream donut, Terri stabbed her coffee spoon onto it. “Besides, when I was talking to Hank, I swore him to secrecy. I had no idea that Rich was about to die, and I didn’t want Rich to think I was playing around on him. And as far as I know, Hank didn’t tell the police about our little meeting in the mist on his beach that morning, either, but what if he tells them, just to give himself an alibi? They’ll think I lied to cover up something.”

  “Wouldn’t admitting that the two of you were together give you an alibi, too?”

  She drew squiggly lines in the frosting. “Maybe, for the time we were together, but we weren’t together the entire time. It would have looked better for us if we’d told the truth at first, but I didn’t, and he probably didn’t, either. Besides, me being with Hank even for that short time would look suspicious if certain things came to light.”

  I wanted to be silent like Brent would have been in a situation like this, which often made the person he was talking to—me, for instance—explain everything. Instead, I asked, “What things?”

  She spooned craters in the fudge. “Like Rich willing me everything shortly before he was murdered.” She wiped the back of the hand holding the fudgy spoon across her eyes. “Monday night, we both signed new wills that made each other our beneficiaries. It was just a routine thing, you know, because of the change in our relationship. We were so happy to be back together.” She exhaled loudly and shakily. “And neither of us had up-to-date wills. But wouldn’t you know? The police found those wills. They only found me last night after the first time they talked to me, Tuesday a
fternoon, but they grilled me about those wills and about Rich’s and my relationship, past and present, for hours last night and again this morning. As soon as they let me go, I came over here to thank you.” She took a sip of her latte, which was probably almost cold. “And for some decent coffee and one of Rich’s favorite donuts.” She touched the pockmarked donut almost reverently. “Can you stay here while I eat it, if you’re not too busy?”

  I turned in my seat. I couldn’t see Tom, so he was probably beyond the half wall, manning the fryers. Nina was at the serving counter talking to a firefighter on his break. Catching me looking at her, she tilted her head in question. The only thing I could do to show her that everything was fine was wink. She gave me a little nod and reached into the display counter for a staggering zombie donut.

  Jocelyn was pouring coffee and chatting to people near the front of the shop, and no one seemed to be waiting for help from one of us.

  “Sure,” I answered, “unless someone needs me, then you’ll have to excuse me.”

  Terri said in a small voice. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Are you still afraid of Derek?”

  “Not after I told the police about him and arranged to have my locks changed.”

  “Do you have family?”

  “Not here.”

  “Tell me about your grandmother.”

  With a wistful smile and between bites, she made the grandmother sound real and like Terri had known her from the time she was a small child. But for all I knew, Terri was making it up. While she was talking, I again noticed how muscular her arms and shoulders were. Despite being short, she could lift a canoe above her head as if it weighed nothing, and she could probably have swung that skillet at Rich’s head.

  Rich must have been taken by surprise. It was likely that he didn’t see his attacker or the skillet until it was too late if at all. Anyone might have sneaked up on him, including a stranger. Or the woman across from me.

  Terri paid me, said goodbye, and left. Out on the patio, she tapped the screen of her phone. Holding her phone next to her ear, she walked north as if she might have left her car near the police station.

  She’d said she’d visited Deputy Donut to thank Nina and me, but Nina hadn’t come to Terri’s table, and Terri hadn’t gone to talk to Nina, either. Terri must have expected me to give Nina the message.

  I wanted to tell Brent about Terri’s allegations about Rich’s crooked dealings with Hank, but I had been letting the other three do the running around while I talked to Terri.

  I cleaned Terri’s table and served smiling and appreciative customers. Finally, I told Nina that Terri had come in to thank us.

  Nina’s grin was impishly crooked. “It’s not like we had an ulterior motive.”

  “Of course not.”

  Tom was frying donuts, and Jocelyn was greeting and serving customers. While Nina and I frosted and decorated donuts, fritters, and crullers, I told Nina what Terri had said.

  Nina quipped, “Maybe we gave Rich the wrong nickname. Instead of calling him the Boston Screamer, we should have called him the Boston Schemer.”

  It wasn’t nice to laugh at the dead, but I couldn’t help it. “And now, thanks to Terri, we know that Rich’s neighbor, Hank, must have had a grudge against Rich.”

  Nina looked toward the door. “Who’s that man who just came in and seems to be looking for someone?”

  I turned around. “What an amazing coincidence!” I made certain that my tone told Nina that I didn’t think it was a coincidence at all. “That’s Hank.”

  He spotted me, gave a little wave, and sat where Terri had.

  “Oh, boy,” Nina said. “This is getting good.”

  “I’ll wait on him,” I told her.

  She laughed. “How did I guess? I’ll watch your back.”

  Chapter 26

  Hank ordered an espresso, a jack-o’-lantern donut, and a zombie donut. When I served them to him, he smiled. “You folks are great. These look like a professional artist decorated them.”

  “One did.” I told him about Nina and pointed out her painting.

  He whistled. “Is it for sale?”

  “All of the art we display in here is, through The Craft Croft.”

  He fingered the glass top of the table. “Your tables, too?”

  “No, but I suppose we could consider painting more and selling them.”

  “Did Nina paint this one?” It had pink frosting and multicolored sprinkles.

  “I did.”

  His brown eyes were warm with admiration. Could he have killed his neighbor over a deal that had gone sour thirty years ago? “There’s a lot of artistic talent in here.”

  “Thank you. My mother-in-law, Cindy Westhill, is an artist. She gave my father-in-law, Tom, who is also my business partner, and me pointers and helped us paint them. Tom and I hadn’t hired Nina yet.”

  The Westhill name didn’t seem to ring a bell with Hank. “Does Nina have art shows?”

  “Some of her other works are at The Craft Croft.”

  “That’s a great place to start, but her talent should spread beyond Fallingbrook.”

  “Rich Royalson said the same thing.”

  “He had good taste in art, even if his taste in architecture tended toward the ostentatious.” I couldn’t help comparing the simple elegance of Hank’s timber frame home to Rich’s stone mini-château. Hank’s house fit into the landscape. Rich’s dominated it. From what I’d seen of the cabins and cottages on that lake, Rich’s cottage also stood out as being different. Hank flashed me a cheerless grin. “I’m surprised he didn’t buy that painting as an investment plus everything else Nina has for sale at The Craft Croft.”

  If Terri’s tale about Rich’s sneaky purchase of the cottage was true, Hank knew firsthand about Rich’s greedy investment practices. Trying not to show that I noticed the possible dig, I merely stated, “He didn’t have time. He died the day after he saw that painting.”

  Hank thinned his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look grief-stricken, he failed.

  I returned my gaze to Nina’s painting. “I hope Nina’s on her way to a career in art. She’s about twenty-five, so she has time for word to spread. The arts are difficult, though, as you probably know. Are you giving any more concerts soon?”

  “Not this week, and ‘concerts’ is a grandiose word for what I do these days. Do you have time to talk?”

  Did he, as Rich had, know people in the art world who could help Nina become noticed? I pulled out the chair across from him and sat in it. “Sure.”

  He asked, “How long did you know Rich?” Was he merely being friendly, or was he a murderer trying to figure out who the police might legitimately suspect?

  I answered cordially and confidently, “I met Rich on Monday, the day before his birthday. He came here, tasted our Boston cream donuts, and ordered some for his party. And he saw and admired Nina’s painting. How about you? Were you Rich’s neighbor long?”

  He answered as if we were two people making small talk, getting to know each other, not two people possibly suspecting each other of murdering a third person. “I met him about thirty-five years ago, when I moved into the house next door to his. Imagine my surprise to find a high school friend living next door.” My attempt at looking bewildered must have succeeded. Hank explained, “Not Rich. His wife. I went to junior high and high school with Patty, back in Cleveland. She was Patty Brook, then. We were friends, but it was never boy-and-girl stuff. We both liked science and music, and we both were upset because our parents—both sets of them—had gotten divorced. That forged a bond between us, but not a romantic one. Because we were friends and didn’t have dates for the senior prom, Patty and I went together. I still have our prom picture. I display it prominently because it’s a great photo and I like looking at it. I like remembering the two innocent kids.” All the time he was telling me about the photo, he was eyeing me as if watching for a reaction. It was as if he knew that I had trespassed and had stud
ied the framed picture on his piano.

  I was sure I was blushing, but I wasn’t going to confess unless I had to. “Cute,” I managed. “Had Patty changed much since graduation?”

  “No. She was the same passionate biologist, dedicated to the environment and to wildlife. She loved living on the lake. She had intended to work as a biologist, but Rich prided himself on letting her be a lady of leisure.”

  “Did they have children?”

  “No. Rich was fond of pointing out what terrible investments children were.” His lips grim, Hank stirred sugar into his espresso. “By the time I moved next door, Patty and Rich didn’t act like ecstatic young lovers, but they seemed comfortable enough together. They were good neighbors. I was traveling a lot and didn’t do much with them. Rich and I got along with each other after she died, too, but we didn’t socialize. Her death came as a shock. To everyone.”

  “I heard it was an accident.”

  “It was. Patty was always puttering around out on the lake, even in bad weather. People whispered that Rich killed her because he left the bank that day at lunchtime and didn’t go back to work. What many people don’t know, and that I didn’t know for certain at the time, is that he was having an affair with his assistant, Terri, the woman who recently became his girlfriend. On the day that Patty drowned, Rich and Terri drove separately way up north to the Teddy Beddy Bye-Bye Motel. Terri went back to work after a long lunch hour, but Rich claimed that he fell asleep, and apparently it was true that he didn’t check out of the motel until seven that night. The police were satisfied that neither he nor his assistant were anywhere near Lake Fleekom that afternoon.” Hank drummed his fingertips on the table. “I knew Rich well enough to know that he would never have committed a serious crime. He was too conscious of his place in the community. He wasn’t the bank manager, yet, but he was on his way up the ladder—loans manager, or something like that. About five years after I moved to the lake, I went to the bank for a second mortgage, and he was the one I talked to. And his assistant, Terri. She was at both meetings, plus she came out to my place with him to help him assess it. Terri adored her boss. And the way he looked at her, and said her name, well, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Patty.”