Gobble, Gobble Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Lucy gave her a sharp look. “Don’t swear.”

  “My group only got a B on our South America project because Lizzie Snider left Argentina off the map—it’s not fair!” wailed Sara, who wasn’t much of a team player.

  “Mrs. Wilson put my picture up on the wall,” said Zoe, beaming proudly.

  “Great,” said Lucy, bending down and giving her a peck on her forehead. “Listen, guys, I’ve got to go to a meeting, so I want you to hold the fort. I won’t be home in time for supper so, Elizabeth, you’ll have to cook the franks and beans. Sara, you can make a salad and, Zoe, you set the table. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Elizabeth was reaching for the phone, which had begun ringing right on schedule minutes after the girls got home.

  Lucy shrugged off the guilt that invariably accompanied her when she left the kids in charge of dinner and headed for the door. Kudo was right at her heels.

  “Sorry,” she told him. “I don’t have time for a walk today and believe me, you wouldn’t like the selectmen’s meeting.”

  Kudo didn’t seem convinced. He wagged his tail eagerly. Lucy reconsidered. She supposed she could take him along for the ride to the farm and drop him off at the house on her way to the meeting.

  “You win, just this once,” she said, opening the door.

  A blast of cold air hit her, and she quickly shut the door, almost bumping Kudo’s nose.

  “Oops. Just a minute—I’ve got to get my coat zipped.”

  She slapped her hat on her head and pulled on her gloves.

  “Now we can go,” she told the dog, holding the door for him.

  Kudo ran ahead of her to the car and waited by the rear hatch. As soon as she lifted it, he jumped in and stood in the cargo area wagging his tail and smiling.

  “We’re just going for a little ride,” she warned him as she started the engine. In the rearview mirror she could see him grinning at her, his big pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  What a doofus, she thought. Though not quite so much of a fool as Jack O’Hara, who actually thought he could bribe Ted to support the casino. Maybe that sort of thing happened in the world of big business, but it certainly didn’t happen at the Pennysaver.

  As she drove along, she wondered if bribes were business as usual at Mulligan Construction. From what Howard White had said at the meeting, it seemed O’Hara was pretty important in the company. Hadn’t he said O’Hara would be the next CEO? She had wanted to ask St. John Barth about him on Thanksgiving, when he’d mentioned he used to work for Mulligan Construction, but the opportunity had slipped by when the conversation took a different turn.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock as she pulled into the yard at the farm and saw she was late; it was already ten past three. Brown and O’Hara would have to make their case for the casino quickly because she could only stay for a half hour at most if she was going to get to the meeting in time.

  She debated what to do with Kudo. She would have liked to let him out of the car but she wasn’t confident she could control him, even on the leash. It was cold and windy outside, but the sun was shining and the car would stay warm, so she decided to leave him.

  “Be a good boy,” she told him.

  Kudo stared at her for a minute, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was going to be left behind. Then he curled up in a ball for an afternoon nap.

  As usual, there was an assortment of vehicles in the Browns’ farmyard, but none of them looked like the kind of car O’Hara would drive. The shiny black pickup truck was Andy’s, his wife drove the Caravan, and the battered Corolla with radio station stickers probably belonged to one of their kids. The motorcycle, she figured, could belong either to Andy or one of his boys, maybe even a farmhand.

  Lucy wasn’t sure if she should go to the house or the barn. There’d been mention of mulled cider, which seemed to indicate the house, but since the barn door was propped open, she thought she might as well check there before climbing the hill to the house.

  After the bright, albeit waning, sunshine outside, it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the barn. It was surprisingly warm, and she pulled off her beret and jammed it in her pocket.

  “Over here!” yelled O’Hara, and she finally made him out standing by TomTom Turkey’s pen.

  As she got closer and her vision cleared, she was shocked to see he was wearing a leather motorcross suit.

  “I took you for the kind of guy who drives a Lexus or a BMW,” she said in a teasing tone.

  “You’d be right,” he said, smiling. “I’ve got a Lexus but I ride my bike whenever I can. It’s great exercise and a lot more fun than sweating on a treadmill in some stinking gym.”

  “A lot more dangerous, too,” said Lucy, thinking of the cyclist who had harrassed her on the back road and wondering if it could possibly have been O’Hara. She thought of Bear Sykes and his cell phone but dismissed the thought. It seemed unlikely that O’Hara would be at Sykes’s beck and call; it must have been one of the young toughs Ted had told her about. She relaxed.

  “Where’s Andy?” she asked, glancing uneasily at the turkey, who was pacing back and forth in his pen. “I don’t think old TomTom here cares much one way or the other about the casino.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” said O’Hara with mock seriousness. “Before you got here, he was telling me he loves to play blackjack.”

  “I think craps is more his style,” said Lucy, wrinkling her nose.

  “You may be right,” agreed O’Hara, unrolling the plans and laying them out on a stack of hay bales. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and it streamed through the high windows, lighting the entire area in a golden glow. “Andy had to make some phone calls but he said he’d be right over.”

  Lucy stepped closer, studying the blue-and-white diagram.

  “This is what they call an elevation,” O’Hara said. “It shows what the casino will look like from the southeast, actually the main entrance.”

  Lucy looked at the rounded awning, which was reminiscent of a long house. She noticed the carvings of a bear and turtle that stood on either side of the doorway. Her eyes followed the soaring lines of the hotel tower and she counted the rows of windows.

  “Fourteen stories. It seems so big. Bigger than anything we’ve ever seen in Tinker’s Cove.”

  “I know. But what would you rather have? A tall building like this or a sprawling complex covering acres of land?”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way,” said Lucy.

  “This is so much more economical. It’s energy efficient.” O’Hara paused, looking at her. “You know, I’ll never understand you country folk. You’ve got all this empty land—acres and acres of it—and you all act like one building is going to spoil it. What gives?”

  Lucy shrugged. “People around here like it the way it is.”

  “I noticed.” He tapped the plans with his finger. “You can’t hold back progress, you know. Whether you like it or not, things are going to change in Tinker’s Cove, with or without the casino. If the tribe gets federal recognition, the whole balance of power is going to change. It won’t be Howard White and his buddies calling the shots anymore. And your boss, Ted? He’s awfully cocky for a guy whose entire livelihood is tied up in that rickety newspaper. I mean, think what one carelessly thrown match could do to that place.”

  Lucy’s head jerked up and she stared at O’Hara. “Is that why you had me come here? To send a message to Ted that you’re going to torch the Pennysaver if he doesn’t support the casino?”

  O’Hara had been getting the full force of the slanting sunlight; it was so bright it illuminated the dancing dust particles in the air. Beads of perspiration had formed on his upper lip and he wiped them away with his hand.

  “You’ve got me wrong,” said O’Hara, unzipping his jacket. “I just think people should think things through before they make big decisions.”

  “That’s good advice for—” began Lucy, stammering to
a halt as her eyes fell on the short black thread that dangled from the neck of his sweater. It should have held a button, a woven leather button just like the ones that remained.

  “Well, for anyone,” she continued brightly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring. “It’s just common sense,” she babbled on, wondering if O’Hara’s missing button was the missing button. “What my mother used to tell me: ‘Think before you speak.’”

  O’Hara nodded and leaned forward to pull out another plan, and she instinctively stepped back. He looked at her curiously.

  “I think that, if you keep an open mind when you look at these plans, you’ll have to agree the casino could be a real asset to the town. Look here. We’ve used a woodland theme. A brook with waterfalls actually runs through the gaming area and there will be recordings of birdsong. The furniture will be Adirondack style, like a lodge, right down to a gigantic fieldstone fireplace.”

  He tapped the plan with his finger, inviting Lucy to step forward and take a closer look. She knew she should do it, but she couldn’t make her feet move. All she could think about was that missing button.

  “I know casinos aren’t everybody’s cup of tea,” he said, sensing her discomfort. “Let me show you the shopping concourse. It’s truly magnificent. It has a four-story waterfall.”

  As he spoke, Lucy came to a decision. She had to get out of there. She’d make up an excuse, a little white lie, and leave.

  “You know,” she said, making a show of checking her watch. “I just realized that I have to pick up my daughter from Brownies.”

  Damn it. If only she could take her eyes off that darn sweater. But no matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept returning to the sight of that dangling thread.

  “I thought you said you had until four when the selectmen have their meeting.” His eyes had become flat and his tone was insistent.

  “I’m sorry. I just forgot about the scout meeting. I really do have to go,” insisted Lucy, wishing she had never agreed to meet O’Hara.

  “I only have a few more points to go over with you,” he said firmly. “It won’t take long.”

  Looking through the long barn, Lucy could see the door, still ajar. More than anything she wanted to go through it.

  “I can’t stay,” she said. “I really have to pick up my daughter.”

  “Can’t she wait for a few minutes?” His tone was unexpectedly vehement and it struck Lucy that O’Hara was a man used to getting his own way, a man who didn’t like to be crossed.

  “Ten minutes,” she said, hoping he’d accept a compromise. Besides, she was probably just being silly. There was no sense jumping to conclusions. Lots of people wore those sweaters. What had Horowitz said? Every man in American had something with that kind of button in his closet. Furthermore, she knew they tended to fall off. How many times had she replaced the buttons on Bill’s sport coat? Having a missing button wasn’t a crime and it didn’t mean O’Hara was a murderer. The sooner she went along with him, she told herself, the sooner she’d get out of there. Her best bet was to behave as normally as possible without giving him a hint of her suspicions. She could keep a poker face as well as anyone.

  “How many stores in the shopping concourse?” she asked, trying to sound interested.

  “Forty or so, ranging from high-end jewelry and fur boutiques to souvenirs and T-shirts.”

  “This is a much bigger project than I imagined,” she said.

  “Mulligan is one of the biggest construction companies in the Northeast,” he boasted. “We only do big projects.”

  “Really?” Lucy decided to lay on the flattery. “And you’re in line to be the next CEO?”

  “I don’t know where Howard White gets off saying stuff like that.” He glanced at TomTom, who was still regarding them suspiciously from his pen. “One thing I’ve learned in business is never to count your chickens, or your turkeys, before they’re hatched. There are plenty of foxes sniffing around, believe me.”

  “From what Howard said, it sounded like a sure thing.”

  “No way. I’ve got a lot of competition for the job.” He looked at the plans. “Of course, if I can make a go of this thing it would give me a real advantage.” He paused and smiled smugly. “You see, this casino project is my baby.”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t the Metinnicuts hire you?”

  “No way. It was my idea,” he said. “You see, I’ve known Andy for a long time. We went to college together. When he told me the local tribe was trying to get federal recognition, I approached Bear Sykes. He hadn’t even thought of a casino until I mentioned it. I mean, of course they’d thought of it, but they hadn’t come to any decision.”

  Lucy nodded. “From what Ellie told me they were mostly interested in maintaining their heritage and establishing a cultural identity.”

  “Whoa,” said O’Hara, holding up his hands in protest. “If I hear those words one more time—I mean, what do they want? We’ve got bears and turtles and babbling brooks and fucking bird-songs, pardon my French. But that wasn’t enough, not for Mr. Nolan. It wasn’t enough that this casino can generate enough money for the entire tribe to go live in Tahiti if they want, for God’s sake, but he’s nitpicking every little thing. Talk about bad timing. Just when we need to grease the wheels he comes in throwing sand around. That guy made a big mistake when he tangled with me.”

  O’Hara suddenly realized he’d said too much. “Not that I had anything to do with his death.”

  “Of course not,” said Lucy, backing away from him. “That never crossed my mind.”

  O’Hara’s eyes were fixed on something in the corner. Lucy followed his gaze and recognized a maul—an oversize mallet with a steel head used to force a wedge through a log to split it into firewood.

  “Of course, I’m not shedding any tears for him,” said O’Hara, picking up the maul and checking its heft. “I guess you could call it a lucky break.”

  Lucy had split plenty of wood in the days when they’d heated their house with a woodstove, and she knew to the ounce exactly how heavy a maul was. She had once dropped one on her foot, which had turned black-and-blue for weeks. She didn’t even want to think about the damage one could cause if it were used as a weapon. She looked toward the door, estimating the distance. If she made a run for it, would she make it? Not unless O’Hara was distracted, she decided.

  “I’ve always believed you make your own luck,” said Lucy, nervously backing up against the turkey pen and reaching in her coat pocket. Behind her, she could hear TomTom making throaty noises. “Things seem to be going pretty well for you. You wouldn’t want to do anything foolish.”

  “One thing I know,” he said, stepping toward her. “You don’t get ahead by being indecisive—you can’t be afraid to take risks.”

  He started to lift the maul and Lucy knew he planned to kill her, just as he’d killed Curt Nolan. She edged away from him and reached deeper in her pocket, finally finding what she was looking for: the red beret she had stuffed there earlier. She pulled it out, waving it and tossing it straight at O’Hara.

  He instinctively ducked and grabbed for it, giving Lucy an opportunity to unlatch the gate of TomTom’s pen.

  Enraged by the sight of the red beret in O’Hara’s hand, the huge bird went straight for his supposed rival. Caught off balance by the unexpected attack, O’Hara went flying and landed on his seat in a pile of straw.

  TomTom cocked his head, blinked his eyes and decided he’d been so successful at cutting this guy down to size that he might as well finish him off. He puffed out his chest, spread his tail, and renewed his attack.

  Lucy didn’t wait to watch. She started to run for the door but stopped in her tracks when it flew open and Kudo ran in, followed by Barney Culpepper.

  “Hold it right there!” bellowed Barney, reaching for his gun.

  O’Hara froze, holding the maul at shoulder height and keeping a wary eye on the turkey. TomTom, however, was no longer interested in attacking him. He was checking out a new o
pponent: Kudo, who had faced off opposite him, growling.

  “You’re under arrest,” Barney told O’Hara. “Put the maul down and put your hands behind your back.”

  “What’s the charge?” demanded O’Hara, cocky as ever.

  “Mistreating an animal will do for starters,’ ” said Barney, snapping on the cuffs.

  Her knees shaking, Lucy stroked Kudo’s thick ruff. He wagged his tail, then jumped at TomTom, sending the turkey scurrying for the safety of his pen. Lucy fastened the catch with trembling hands. Then she collapsed on her knees, burying her nose in the dog’s fur and hugging him.

  He tolerated this embarrassing display for a few seconds, then pulled away, cocking his head and pricking up his ears.

  “You’re right,” said Lucy. “It’s time to get out of here.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Lucy had just put Kudo in the car when she heard sirens.

  So did the Browns, who began pouring out of the house and streaming down the hill to the barnyard. About time, thought Lucy, slamming down the hatch. Where were you when I needed you?

  Andy led the group, marching up to Barney and demanding, “What’s going on?”

  Marian Brown stood a few steps behind him, wiping her hands on her apron and keeping an eye on the kids.

  “I’m making an arrest,” said Barney, lifting off his cap and running his hand through his brush cut before replacing it.

  Andy peered in the back of the cruiser, then raised his eyebrows in shock when he recognized Jack O’Hara.

  “There must be some mistake!” he declared. “That’s Jack!”

  “Excuse me,” said Marian, stepping beside her husband, “but what possible reason could you have for arresting Mr. O’Hara?”

  “Well, somehow I think it’s for more than attempting to assault a turkey,” said Barney as a couple of state police cars spun into the driveway with their lights flashing.

  Barney went to confer with the new arrivals, leaving Lucy with the Browns.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” asked Andy.

  “I’m not sure,” said Lucy, “but I think your friend killed Curt Nolan.”