The Ghost and the Femme Fatale

by Alice Kimberley

  I looked down at the pavement around my feet. Okay, there were a few gum wrappers, paper cups, and napkins blowing around, but there was still more than an hour before we opened our doors-plenty of time for me to sweep the sidewalk.

  "Excuse me!" I interrupted. "We have an entire hour to deal with this little bit of rubbish, and we will."

  I was proud of taking a stand, but Marjorie Binder-Smith didn't appear impressed with my little protest. In fact, she was wearing the same smirk she'd worn the day she'd temporarily halted the restoration of the Movie Town Theater over some minor ordinance violation. It had taken an entire month for Brainert to straighten out the red tape-and it had cost him and his investors quite a bit of cash, too.

  "The ticket stands," the councilwoman declared with a note of finality. But her eyes were still boring into mine, as if waiting for me to challenge her. I was about to open my mouth when Bud Napp stepped between us.

  "Now wait just a doggone minute, Councilwoman," Bud said. "Everyone knows that storefront businesses have until opening hours to clean their sidewalks. It's standard practice around here."

  "What you people collectively do for your own convenience has nothing to do with the official rules on the town's books, Mr. Napp," the woman shot back. "And if it's not on the books, it doesn't exist. Not where I come from."

  Where's that? Down in the bunker with Eva and Adolph?

  "Shut it!" I told Jack.

  The councilwoman wheeled. "What did you say to me, Mrs. McClure?"

  Uh-oh. "Did I say that out loud?"

  Don't fold now, baby. Show some backbone!

  I knew Jack meant well, but I suspected arguing would only make things worse.

  "Write that ticket, Officer Franzetti," Marjorie commanded.

  Eddie frowned as he opened his ticket book. He began to scribble, his eyes avoiding mine.

  "Come on, Marjorie," Bud said, stepping up to the woman. "Cut Pen a break. A warning is all she should get. She doesn't know about the town's ordinance."

  "Ignorance of the law is no excuse!" Marjorie asserted.

  Bud turned crimson. "Having an ignoramus like you write our laws is no excuse, either!"

  Now we're getting somewhere! Jack boomed in my head.

  I ignored Jack and jumped between the two. "Look, it's no big deal. Take it easy."

  An elbow dug into my ribs and I was thrust aside. "What did you call me?" the councilwoman cried.

  "I called you an ignoramus," Bud said. "I'd also like to add that you are a petty bureaucrat on some kind of twisted power trip!"

  I tried to step between them again, but Seymour pulled me back. "Let Bud go, Pen. Someone should have put a stake in that woman's heart and filled her mouth with garlic a long time ago."

  "I heard that!" Marjorie cried, wheeling on Seymour. "You'll be very sorry you said that, Mailman. And that goes double for you, Mr. Napp."

  I heard paper tear. Eddie Franzetti slipped the ticket into my hand.

  "What's going on here?" Aunt Sadie finally made an appearance, but not from inside the store. She was hurrying up to our group from down the street, carrying a Bogg's Office Supply and Stationery bag. "What's this?" she asked, snatching the ticket from my fingers.

  "It's a littering citation," Officer Franzetti informed her.

  "A two-hundred-dollar fine!" Sadie cried.

  Eddie shrugged. "I don't make the rules."

  Marjorie Binder-Smith was still sputtering. Finally she managed a coherent sentence. "I am going to sue you for slander, Bud Napp. You wait and see!" Then she faced Seymour. "And let's just see where you can park that ice cream truck of yours after the next town council meeting!"

  "You leave my ice cream truck out of this!" Seymour shot back.

  Bud stepped up to the councilwoman again. "You have more to worry about that an ice cream truck, Marjorie. I've decided. Right here and now-I'm going to run against you in the fall election. You wait and see-"

  The woman blinked. "What?"

  "I'm going to run against you and I'm going to beat you, too," Bud declared. "And when I take charge, I'm going to teach that band of parasites called a town council that you don't have to stick it to the small-business owners to raise town revenues. Got it?!"

  For a moment, it was so quiet you could have heard a gum wrapper drop (which probably would have earned me a second ticket). Marjorie glared at Bud for a good ten seconds but said nothing more to him. Instead, she whirled to face Eddie. "You come with me now. The sidewalk in front of that baker up the street is a mess, and so is the area around your family's pizza kitchen-"

  Eddie stopped in his tracks. The councilwoman placed her hands on her hips. "Or you can forget writing tickets, and I'll have a conversation with Chief Ciders about how one of his officers shows favoritism in how he applies the law."

  Marjorie spun around and headed for Cooper Family Bakery. Eddie hesitated for a moment-no doubt thinking about his wife and children, and pondering what they'd do if he lost his job.

  With an air of defeat, he followed the councilwoman across the street.

  "That witch," Sadie hissed, narrowing her eyes at the departing sweater set.

  "I prefer vampire," Seymour noted.

  I turned to Bud. "Did you mean what you said, Bud? Are you really going to run against Marjorie?"

  Bud watched the councilwoman's back, squinting like a sniper taking aim. "You bet I am!"

  Sadie exchanged glances with me. "Good!" we both said.

  I retrieved the donuts and as Bud locked up his truck, I thanked him again.

  "No trouble, Pen. Sure you don't need help getting those things inside?" he asked.

  I shook my head. " Seymour will help me."

  "Then I'm heading over to the theater." Bud climbed into his truck. "I want to check out the place before Brainert opens for the matinee."

  "What are you looking for?" I asked.

  Bud's face darkened. "I don't know."

  Seconds later, the van's engine roared, and Bud was speeding away. When I returned to the front door, Sadie was fumbling in her pocket for the keys.

  "Where were you?" I asked.

  "That banner behind the podium kept on falling," Sadie said. "I ran to the office supply store to buy industrial-strength staples."

  "That's okay, but you might have missed the delivery of Dr. Lilly's books."

  Sadie shook her head. "No chance of that. Dr. Lilly's inside-"

  "Then why didn't she answer?" said Seymour. "I pressed the doorbell twice already!" He paused. "Hey, that's funny. I'm the postman. And I rang twice!"

  "I pressed it once myself," I told Sadie, ignoring the sound of Seymour laughing at his own joke, "before the councilwoman stopped by to brighten our day."

  Sadie turned the key in the handle and pushed the door open.

  "I didn't bother with the dead bolt," she said. "Since the store's occupied."

  The little bell above the door tinkled as Sadie crossed the threshold. Seymour was next, then me.

  "Dr. Lilly?" I called. My voice sounded hollow in the empty shop.

  I set the donuts on the check-out counter and Seymour set down the coffee containers, then tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed sweat from his brow.

  "I think I deserve a free cup of Joe," he panted. "And another doughnut."

  Sadie nodded. "Of course, Seymour. You've been such a great help."

  As I entered our bookstore's Community Events room, I noticed how many chairs had been set up and suddenly worried that fifty cups of coffee and forty-eight donuts wouldn't be enough (or rather forty-four, since Bud already had two and Seymour was angling for a second).

  Then I moved toward the front of the space, and donuts and coffee became the least of my worries. While we were out, a terrible accident appeared to have taken place. The six-foot stepladder had fallen, obviously slamming against the podium in the center of the low wooden platform that served as our stage.

  I rushed forward, seeing the leather sandal on the ground
, then the foot it belonged to. Finally my eyes traced the dangling FILM NOIR FESTIVAL banner, mounted on the wall behind the podium, the loose material was stretched taut, still clutched in Dr. Irene Lilly's hand.

  I knew the woman was dead without touching her. There was so much blood on the hardwood floor I would have to wade through it to reach the body. And it was clear that Dr. Lilly's head had struck the sharp corner of the low platform. Near the base of her skull, grayish brain matter mingled with the blood that stained her sunshine yellow dress.

  "Oh, no. Oh, god… "

  Swallowing a scream, I took two steps backward, then ran to the front of the store.

  CHAPTER 6. Slip and Fall

  That's life. Whichever way you turn, fate sticks out a foot to trip you.

  – Detour, 1945

  AT SOME POINT during the investigation, Chief Ciders's size-twelve boots tramped through Dr. Lilly's blood. Now everywhere the chief walked his heels left faint, half-moon-shaped trails on the polished, hardwood floor. Objectively, I knew they were just little brownish prints, but whenever I saw those tracks I wanted to scream.

  Behind the store's counter, Aunt Sadie blew her nose. "What a terrible, terrible accident."

  "At least it was quick," Seymour said, attempting to console her-while simultaneously browsing our New Release table. "It was probably, just, you know. Lights out! Like that final episode of The Sopranos"

  Sadie glanced toward the archway leading to the Community Events room and her expression darkened. "They've been in there for over an hour," she said softly. "What are they doing? What are they waiting for?"

  For Chief Donut to get a clue, maybe, said Jack, who never was in awe of Chief Ciders's investigative prowess. And if that's the case, it's going to be a long wait.

  Officer Franzetti stood near the front door, where the chief had posted him. Overhearing Sadie's question, he cleared his throat. "Actually, Ms. Thornton, I think the chief is waiting for a doctor to get here-a new guy, some expert from Newport named Rubino."

  Any warm body would be an improvement over that lamebrain with a badge.

  "Easy, Jack," I silently told the ghost.

  Dismount off that high horse already, doll. I know for a fact you feel the same way about Ciders.

  "The chief means well, Jack."

  He threw you in the town jail last year!

  "But only for one night-and it was all cleared up the next day."

  Sadie blew her nose again. "Who is this doctor, Eddie?"

  Officer Franzetti shrugged. "I don't know much. Only what I heard from Bull."

  Seymour frowned. "Bull McCoy? He's in there with the chief? How did I miss that no-neck's grand entrance?"

  "He came in when you were fetching your mailbag from the trunk of Penelope's car," Sadie informed him.

  Seymour faced Eddie. "Then riddle me this, Batman-zetti. How is it that Bull is in there, analyzing the crime scene, and you're out here?"

  "Bull is, uh… " Eddie cleared his throat again. "He's the chief's nephew."

  "I recall that!" Seymour threw up his hands. "I also remember that lousy sucker punch he gave me last year when I tried to stop him from hauling Pen off to the hoosegow-but he's still a rookie! Not to mention a moron! What's the chief thinking using an experienced senior officer as a doorman?!"

  Eddie folded his arms tightly but kept silent. Between Councilwoman Binder-Smith ordering him around like some lackey, and now Seymour tactlessly pointing out an embarrassing slight, Eddie was obviously having a horrific day.

  Not as horrific as Dr. Lilly, Jack pointed out.

  "True," I told the ghost, "but Eddie's my friend. It's time to change the subject of this conversation." I turned toward the front door, where Eddie was still standing.

  "Eddie, you were telling us about Dr. Rubino?"

  He nodded. "He's some hotshot Newport doctor. A couple of years ago, he did part-time work for the State Medical Examiner's Office. Last month he was recruited by Ciders to act as the local medical examiner on an as-needed basis. I understand he's doing that for other townships-anywhere the local police don't need to call in the Staties."

  "Sounds like the chief is thinking ahead," Sadie observed.

  Yeah, Jack said. If this new guy is jake, maybe he can talk cabbage with the Keystone Cops in this cornpone community. Or maybe the doc can pull a Dr. Frankenstein and put a brain into Chief Cipher's thick skull-one that actually works.

  "Jack, you're not being helpful. And it's Ciders, not Cipher."

  The man's a cipher to me. And I'll tell you who better be helpful: this new "expert" doctor. If he doesn't rule this crime scene hinky, he'll be batting as lousy as Chief Louie Lunkhead.

  "Because?" I silently asked.

  Because of last night, baby. You were there. You saw the "accident" at the theater. That's why I know this is all smoke and mirrors. A slick Houdini act meant to dazzle a dunce-in this case, Chief Smalltown and Deputy Dullard.

  "Oh, my god, Jack… last night… "

  All morning, I'd been assuming that if anyone was the target of that "accidental" falling speaker it was Hedda Geist. But with Dr. Lilly dead, I realized Jack was right.

  "Hedda wasn't scheduled to make a speech at the Movie Town Theater last night. Dr. Lilly should have been standing on ground zero when the boom dropped!"

  Do you remember what your Buddy Boy Mr. Hardware said? He hung that speaker himself. And he thinks somebody rigged a metal strut to break with a small explosion.

  "You're right. And if the explosive was on a timer, then Irene Lilly should have been under it, not Hedda. Oh, god, Jack, if I could have figured that out sooner, I might have saved Dr.

  Lilly's life!"

  Easy, baby. Don't go taking on guilt you don't deserve. You've done that enough already. "What are you talking about?"

  That lousy husband of yours, the one who decided kissing New York concrete was a better solution to his problems than acting like a man and sticking by his wife and son.

  "Don't bring Calvin up now, Jack. I can't handle it."

  There's one truth in life, baby: If someone wants to kill somebody else-or themselves, like your coward of a husband- they're going to do it. Doesn't matter what you, the law, or anyone else says or does. Half the time, killers don't even care if they get caught. They just want to pull the curtain on someone so much they think it's worth throwing their own life away. So believe me, because I'm leveling with you. You weren't the one who killed Dr. Lilly.

  "But-"

  The scheme failed last night, so the killer staged accident number two in your store. It's clear as day to me.

  "But who did this? And why?" I paced the bookstore's aisle, passing McBain and McCrumb, Paretsky and Poe. "Is the killing over now? Or just getting started?"

  Listen, baby, you can't solve a puzzle when half the pieces are missing.

  "People guess at half-solved puzzles all the time," I pointed out. "What about Wheel of Fortune? You can buy a vowel and sound out the words. You don't need all the pieces."

  That's a game show, dollface. Guessing's fine when you're playing for Cracker Jack prizes, not when you're dealing out life and death-and believe me, I'm the voice of experience.

  "Wait a second, Jack! Can't you… I don't know, commune with the spirit world? Maybe get in touch with Dr. Lilly? Ask her what happened when she was alone in the store?"

  Sorry, baby, but this tomb's all mine. Unless you take me places, I'm a prisoner in this glorified library. And as far as "communing" with my fellow dead, nobody's ever stuck around here to tell me squat. I wish I could call up some company, doll. I can think of a few hot skirts from my past I wouldn't mind looking up.

  "And are you sure you don't have any idea what happened in the store while I was out on the sidewalk?"

  I'm a ghost, baby, not a magician. My awareness can't be more than one place at one time. When Dr. Lilly bought it in this store, I was with you-in that bakery, in Buddy Boy's van, then out on the sidewalk with the Ticket Issuing Witch o
f Cornpone County.

  I sighed, slumping back against our complete collection of Robert B. Parker. "We don't even know why Dr. Lilly was singled out."

  But we can assume a few things… like it's a pretty good bet the killer wasn't connected to her life back in California. Punching her ticket on the West Coast would have been a heck of a lot easier than what took place last night. There's also a possibility that a certified crazy is on the loose at this film festival. Maybe all of this weekend's special guests are in danger. Maybe the entire festival crowd.

  "Someone's got to help us figure this out, Jack. I'd better talk it over with the chief "

  The chief? Jack snorted. That piker's not going to listen to you. I doubt he'll even rule this a homicide. And unless the medical man on his way is Dr. Watson, we're on our own proving a clean sneak bump-off.

  The front door rattled. Someone had knocked instead of pressing our doorbell. Officer Franzetti peered through the window.

  "He's here," Eddie announced, unlocking the door.

  A fit man in his forties squeezed through the crowd of people that had gathered in front of my store. He wore rumpled khakis, a lime-green alligator shirt, collar wrinkled and unbuttoned. Over his arm, he carried a bright yellow J. Crew Windbreaker, which seemed unnecessary, considering the weather report's forecast high for today was in the seventies.

  Someone tried to follow the newcomer over the threshold, but Eddie slammed the door in the customer's startled face.

  Our visitor ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. He had a squarish face with a Roman nose, prominent chin, and large brown eyes. On first impression, he seemed intelligent and attractive.

  "Quite a mess out there," he said with a friendly smile. "Good you got here, doc," said Eddie. "The chief's been waiting."

  "I came from Newport as soon as I got the call… it's Officer Franchese, isn't it?" "Franzetti."

  "Anyway, the traffic was murder. Did you know there's some kind of film festival going on? The whole town's full of tourists…"

  The man suddenly caught sight of me and his deep voice trailed off. Then he noticed Sadie behind the counter and Seymour slumped in one of our Shaker-style rockers.