Murder Well-Done hf-4

by Claudia Bishop

  Myles shut his eyes for a moment. "You don't have to worry about Tutti."

  "Why not?"

  "I'll let you know after I call New York this morning. I'd like to know something right now, though. Was it the H. O. W. search that kicked off the riot?"

  "It wasn't exactly a riot," Quill said a little guiltily. "They didn't find anything, anyway. They all went home to nurse their bruises after that snowball fight. And besides, Myles, you're forgetting the hard drive."

  "The hard drive?" He shook his head, "We're talking about you breaking into Nora's apartment again? You mean the hard drive for Nora's PC?"

  "Yes! You have her laptop in custody, or whatever, don't you?"

  "Yeah. It's been entered into evidence. We do."

  "And her laptop was collected in a proper and legal way, wasn't it? Almost every newer PC backs up files automatically. There's bound to be a copy of whatever is on those disks in Nora's hard drive, So it doesn't matter if you can't submit the disks in evidence. You've got the hard drive. All the disks will do is give us the right kind of lead. I hope. They aren't labeled."

  He rubbed his chin. "Hmm. You might be right. You still have the disks?"

  "Right in my purse. And I can use John's PC to go through them. If you don't mind."

  "I don't mind. I've got two murders to solve." He raised an eyebrow, "And I need all the help I can get. But first, I need a shave."

  Quill kicked the covers off and jumped out of bed, "Last one in the shower's an unemployed sheriff."

  "Eleven-thirty," said Meg. "I thought you two were never coming down."

  "Don't be vulgar." Quill settled onto the stool at the butcher block counter and raised her cheek for Myles. He bent down and kissed her. Meg beamed.

  "You two want some lunch?"

  "He's off to apply a rubber hose to Joseph Greenwald," Quill said. "But I'd love some lunch."

  "I'll get something at Marge's later," said Myles. He left, and the kitchen seemed suddenly empty.

  "Crab cheese soup?" Meg asked.

  "Sounds great. The dining room booked for lunch?" Meg glanced at the agenda posted on the wall. "Most of the wedding party's out skiing."

  "Not Tutti," said Quill, alarmed.

  "No, not Tutti. She and Doreen and Elaine are in your office hassling the florist about the flower delivery. The senator and one of the aides - it's either Frank or Marlon or Ed - are still upstairs making phone calls. Which is a lot better," Meg said cheerfully, "than any of them hassling me about the reception. Claire and the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are out skiing. There's a plot afoot to make Claire drunk, so she can actually go through with the wedding. Or maybe the plot's to make the senator drunk. Either way, nobody innocent's going to get hurt, if the nuptials do come off."

  "Meg," Quill protested. "This is a tragedy shaping up. You're not being very kind."

  "It's a tragedy all right," Meg said tartly, "but not the kind you think." She ladled a portion of the crab soup into a small crock and set it in front of Quill. "How sure are you that the senator's behind these murders?"

  "Who else could it be?"

  "Lots of people. Maybe this Joe Greenwald. Maybe..."

  "Maybe who?"

  "Maybe Tutti."

  Quill put her spoon down. "That's ridiculous."

  "Is it? Maybe she's setting Al up. Wouldn't you try to get him out of the way if he was going to marry your granddaughter?"

  "I wouldn't commit two murders to do it. And if she's going to kill people, why doesn't she just go straight to the source of the problem and kill Al himself! You've been smoking funny cigarettes, Meg."

  "Okay. So Tutti as murderer is a ludicrous idea. I'd just like to point out - "

  "That I'm engaging in wild surmise?"

  "Well, yeah."

  "I've already been informed of the dangers of engaging in wild surmise. So let's change the subject."

  "You want to change the subject because you want to solve this case all by yourself."

  "Well, I do," Quill admitted. "But not all by myself. I've got a partner."

  "Sure you do. Me."

  Quill swallowed a spoonful of soup. Then another. Meg's face changed. "Not me. Myles."

  "Do you mind?"

  Meg's eyelids flickered. "No." Then, "Yes. Yes, I think I do. This is a real reversal, Quill. Normally it's you looking out for me."

  "I'm looking out for you!"

  "Then that's not what I mean. I mean normally it's been the two of us. Together. Now it's not." Meg ran her hands slowly through her hair.

  "So you do mind."

  "It's just... different."

  Quill couldn't think of anything to say to this. Except that just when you seemed to have one relationship problem solved, another popped up in its place. Meg drummed her fingers on the butcher block, pulled the agenda from the wall, and started making notes with a dull pencil. Her face was flushed.

  After a moment, Quill said, "This is terrific soup." Then, "How many for the rehearsal dinner tonight?"

  "Twenty. And it's a fabulous menu, Quill. I'm having the best time. I've made a brandied fruit compote, a squash souffl‚, and the piece de resistance - potted rabbit." The flush on her face had faded to two bright red spots.

  "Rabbit." Quill bit her lip and chuckled. "Is this an unsubtle signal to the senator?"

  "Is what a signal? What?" Alphonse Santini banged through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Both women jumped. "So you heard already? I think it's a sign, too. Like, I shouldn't be getting married again. I mean, one ball and chain in a lifetime's enough, you get my drift. The old lady's loaded, but still. Shit."

  "It's Tutti that's - er - loaded?" Quill asked casually. "I thought it was Vittorio, her son."

  "In that family, where the money comes from isn't the issue. It's who's got the balls. And in that family, it's Tutti."

  "Then how come..." Quill began. She stopped. She couldn't very well ask Santini to his face why Tutti - if she was the driving force in the McIntosh family - was permitting a marriage to go forward of which she clearly didn't approve.

  "Then how come what?" Santini moved restlessly around the kitchen, snapping his fingers. He stuck a finger in the soup crock, licked it off, and moved to stick it in again.

  Meg took two long strides forward and moved the crock out of reach. "Is there something specific we can help you with, Senator?"

  "This dinner tonight. The rehearsal dinner, we got a problem."

  Meg raised her eyebrows politely. "With what?"

  "Can't have the rehearsal in the church. It's drifted in and the plows can't get to it until later today. So we'll want to push the dinner back, see, and have the rehearsal here, about nine o'clock."

  "How far back?" There was an ominous note in Meg's voice.

  Quill slid off the stool and said hastily, "It really isn't necessary, is it, Senator? There's been such a lot of disruption around here lately, it'd make life a lot easier for everyone if we just kept to the original schedule." She grabbed him by the arm, guided him back to the dining room, started to ask him how his dinner had been the night before, realized that the reenactment of the rape of the Sabines had probably altered his view of the hospitality offered by the Inn, and blurted out instead, "Why did you send Joseph Greenwald to burglarize Nora Cahill's apartment?"

  "Huh?" His eyes narrowed to slits, "You out of your mind, throwing around crap like that? Joe Greenwald?" He grabbed her by her upper arms and thrust his face close to hers, "Joey doesn't even work for me," he hissed, "And if he did, which he doesn't, what the hell were you doing in that broad's apartment?!"

  Quill regarded him as steadily as possible with her heart pounding and her hands damp, "I'm onto you, Senator Santini, So are a lot of other people, If I were you..."

  His grip tightened, He was stronger than he looked, "Well, you aren't, you little bitch. And let me tell you something,.. Goddammit." He dropped his grip abruptly. "I never should have gotten into this. Married to a whining cow. For what? Money. Godda
mned money."

  "Alphonse!" Tutti's voice cut across the dining room like a sledgehammer. She stood in the doorway to the foyer, erect, her face stern. Quill had the sudden, eerie feeling that the genial, sweet-voiced grandmother who believed in spirits had been replaced by a refugee from a Godfather movie.

  Santini dropped his hands and backed off. "Sorry, Gramma."

  Sunlight flashed off the rhinestones in Tutti's spectacles, obscuring her eyes. There was an uneasy silence. She resumed, in tones approaching her normal voice, "I thought you were planning on skiing with Claire, Alphonse."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  "Don't yeah, yeah me." The whiplash was back.

  "Tutti?" Elaine fluttered behind her, a moth against her mother-in-law's stolidity. "The flowers are here. Shall I tell them to bring them in? Quill?" Her voice trailed off into its usual inaudibility. She was wearing yet another long-sleeved blouse with lacy sleeves and high collar, and looked fragile, despite her substantial curves.

  Quill stepped away from Santini. "I'm sorry, Elaine, I wasn't paying attention. Would you like me to talk to the delivery people? Are the Cornell students here to do the decorating? They are? Then it shouldn't take too long to have the whole dining room looking wonderful."

  "The church," muttered Elaine. Her eyes teared up.

  "We'll put the flowers for the church on the terrace. They won't freeze and they'll keep just fine until morning. Then we'll whip over to the church and get them up."

  Tutti gave a discreet little cough. "We'll see you at dinner tonight, then, Alphonse." The benign grandmother was back. Alphonse snarled at the three of them and stamped off, presumably, Quill hoped, to cool off skiing down the slope of the Gorge.

  "Well, dear," Tutti said briskly. "Let's get those roses up."

  "You'll have to excuse me, Tutti, Elaine. But I have some pressing business in the office," said Quill. She badly wanted to go through the computer disks, if only to save Claire and her female relatives the embarrassment of having Alphonse Santini hauled off to jail at the church door.

  Tutti fixed her with a gimlet eye. "My dear. I have no wish to be more direct than necessary. But my family and I have spent a great deal of time - and money - at your Inn. I would appreciate it if you would help in the arrangement of the flowers." Her rose-leaf cheeks crumpled in a smile. "It won't take very long at all."

  The dining room was decorated in less than two hours. And it was because Tutti, Quill realized, had the instinct, if not the outright talents, of a second Napoleon. "Except there were two, weren't there? Or three?" she murmured aloud.

  "Three what, dear? No! Redo that swag, young man. I want all the roses facing out. And the drape needs to be loosened just a little. That's it. That's too far. Put it back. Good." She clapped her hands. "I want this mess cleaned up and all of you gone. Five minutes." The crew went to work with a will.

  Quill turned slowly in a circle. "It's not just good, Tutti. It's beautiful."

  "It is, isn't it?" Her faded blue eyes sparkled. "I never had a formal wedding myself, my dear. I took a great many pains with this one."

  "The rose swags were designed by..." Elaine leaned forward and whispered a name most of America knew into Quill's ear. "But he wouldn't come here to direct it himself, of course. So Tutti said she'd do it."

  "Why wouldn't he come himself?" asked Quill. She caught the exchange of glances between the two older women.

  Tutti said tactfully, "Well, it's the family, dear."

  "Nonsense," said Quill. "Shaw was right, you know. Good manners don't have anything to do with whether you treat a shop girl like a duchess, good manners have to do with whether you treat a duchess like a shop girl."

  "I'm afraid I don't quite understand, dear," said Tutti.

  "Just that plumbing money is morally neutral. It's what you do with it that says whether or not you have taste. And this is wonderful."

  Quill looked around the dining room again and was delighted. It must have cost the earth, but the florist had delivered outdoor roses in the depths of December. The vibrant peach-orange of Sutter's Gold, the full glorious yellow of Faust, the paler yellow of Golden Fleece were all mixed in glorious confusion with the rich reds of Frenshman and Dickson's Flame, An ivy of a deep, pure green twined around the rose bouquets, interspersed here and there with full-leaved fern, The rose garlands hung from the long windows, swung gracefully from the center chandelier, and twined down freestanding vases in the corners.

  "It smells like June," Quill said. "It's amazing."

  "Now," Tutti said briskly, "The crate's arrived with the table linens. Elaine, dear, if you'd go find that nice groundskeeper..."

  "Mike," said Quill.

  "Mike, and ask him to wheel it in here, we'll set out the tablecloths for this evening. Then tomorrow, Sarah, we'll use the white damask and the linen napkins. But tonight is a quiet, family celebration, so we don't need to be as formal." She smiled at Quill as Elaine left in search of Mike. "I had a chintz sent directly from England. It has a wonderful Chinese yellow back- ground with aquamarine accents. It just makes these roses."

  "Tutti," Quill began. She hesitated. "I thought... Forgive me, I don't mean to be rude. But do you want Claire to marry Alphonse Santini?"

  "Of course I do. It's time we had a little political connection in the family. At least, one that we can count on." She twinkled at Quill's expression. "You can't count on money alone, my dear. Blood ties are everything."

  "Oh," said Quill. "But, Tutti. What you said about the rabbit. At the s‚ance. You know who killed Nora and Sheriff Dorset. I don't understand. I don't understand at all."

  "You think Alphonse was responsible?" Tutti took a small muslin handkerchief from her purse and patted her cheeks. "That's warm work, decorating. Well. My little messages to Alphonse were more in the nature of letting him know who's the head of the family. Not, my dear, that that's any of your business. As far as I'm concerned, if Claire wants him, she can have him. As long as he treats her well. As long as he understands the rules."

  "But murder, Tutti. If you know something, you really have to tell the police. Have you met Sheriff McHale? He's wonderful. A wonderful sheriff, I mean. And you won't find it difficult to talk to him at all."

  Tutti began to laugh. It was a warm rich laugh, and it made Quill think of her father's mother, a round woman with a joy of life that was infectious. Quill touched her arm. "I don't want to upset you. But I'm almost sure that the senator is behind these murders. And since Sheriff McHale's been here, every single murder that's been committed in Hemlock Falls has been solved. All this beauty,'" Quill said. "I just hope it's not wasted."

  "We'll be fine, my dear. Just fine." Her pink cheeks got a little pinker. "There's Dina. Yoo-hoo! Here we are, dear."

  " `Scuse me, Quill?". Dina, unusually tentative, crossed the dining room with a hesitant air.

  "Now, Dina, did you call that young nephew of mine?" Tutti asked fondly. She pinched Dina's cheek. "He's first-year law, Cornell," she said to Quill. "The poor boy doesn't have time to find himself a nice girl, so when Dina came to the Welcoming - those of us with the Gift don't call it a s‚ance - it's so - Fox sisters, if you know what I mean. We call it a Welcoming. So, you called him?"

  "Your nephew Anthony, Mrs. Mc - I mean, Tutti. No. There's this botanist I've been dating - "

  "Botanist!" said Tutti. "What kind of living does a botanist make? Now a young lawyer..."

  "Well, there's one to see you," said Dina. "A Mr. Greenwald."

  "Oh, really?" said Quill, "I certainly would like to see him, too, Tutti."

  "Joey? Here? How nice!" Tutti beamed at them both. "He's engaged, though, to my brother's third daughter, Christina. A beautiful girl."

  "Where is he, Dina?" Quill asked grimly. "I put him in your office." She gave Tutti an apologetic glance, leaned forward, and whispered in Quill's ear, "Meg said that's the guy who tried to kill you!"

  Quill nodded.

  "Shall I get a gun or something? John's got that rifle he
uses for rabid woodchucks and stuff."

  Quill shook her head. "How does Greenwald look?"

  "Pretty banged up. His arm's in a sling and his face is purple."

  "Oh, dear." Quill marched after Tutti and found her fussing over Joseph Greenwald, who was, to Quill's guilty satisfaction, looking very banged up, He rose to his feet as she came in. Quill folded her arms and glared at him.

  "I see you've met," Tutti said comfortably. "Sit down, dear." She settled herself behind Quill's desk and waved at the couch.

  Quill sat.

  "I received a phone call from Joseph this morning, after your sheriff had a little interview with him down at the Municipal Building." Quill blinked at her.