“Sure, but why—”
But I was already running out the door. Out on the street I paused and called up the photo app on my iPhone. When I saw what I wanted was there, I squared my shoulders.
I had another stop to make.
∞
The cats greeted me at the door with loud meows when I got home. I bent over to give each of them a scratch. “What’s the matter, kids? Gary not treating you right?”
I followed them into the kitchen and saw the problem right away. Both food bowls were empty. “Figures,” I said. I got two cans of Fancy Feast out of the cupboard and spooned it into their bowls. They were slurping away when Gary came in a few minutes later. I took one look at him and cried, “Yow! You look disgusting.”
He looked down at his dirty shorts and t-shirt, grimy hands and said, “Can’t do home repair without getting down and dirty.”
“Is it fixed?”
“It doesn’t leak any more, if that’s what you mean.” He moved over to the sink, squirted soap on his hands, and started to wash them. “Say, is that fresh coffee I smell?”
I chuckled. “That’s a hint, right.” I picked up the coffeemaker and pulled a can of coffee out of the top cabinet. “I guess it’s the least I can do.”
“It was nothing. Just consider it partial payment for the food and board—mostly the board.” He finished washing his hands and reached for a towel to dry them. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, nothing much.” I put the coffee on and pulled out a stool to sit on. “I, ah, just ran a few errands. Fended off Quentin Watson at Sweet Perks.”
“Yeah, Olivia told me.”
I wiggled my eyebrow. “Olivia calls you a lot, eh? Something you want to tell me?”
He waved his hand. “She was really calling you. I just answered the phone. She thought you’d be home already.” He gave me an expectant look.
I felt a bit guilty not sharing my findings with Gary, but the truth of it was, I still wasn’t entirely certain I was right. My theory was just that right now—a theory, even though I had an idea on how to find out if it was correct or not. “I told you I had some errands,” I said lightly. “What’s up?”
“There’s a theatre in town that shows old films. She wanted to invite us to a Jimmy Stewart double feature tonight. It’s two of your favorites, Vertigo and The Man Who Knew Too Much.”
I smiled faintly at the Vertigo reference. And while I loved Jimmy Stewart dearly, I had other plans for tonight. I didn’t want Gary tagging along, though, so I just gave a big smile and said, “Great. What time?”
“Starts at eight. I said we’d pick her up at quarter of. We can go somewhere for a late supper afterward. Okay?”
“Like I said, sounds great,” I said, even though I knew darn well I wouldn’t be joining him or Olivia tonight.
No, with any degree of luck, right around the time they’d be watching Jimmy Stewart rescue Kim Novak from drowning, I’d be breaking into the museum, trying to get the last bit of evidence that would close the case once and for all.
The murder weapon.
• Twenty-Eight •
“So, how do I look, kids? Like a second-story man—or should I say woman?”
I paraded before the cats in my bedroom dressed in black jeans, socks, sneakers, and black turtleneck. I even had black gloves I planned to put on later. A short black jacket over all, and then I wound my blond hair into a tight bun on top of my head and pulled a black cap over it to complete the look.
Kahlua looked me up and down, then made a mewling sound and dove under the bed. Purrday studied me a minute, then hopped off the bed and wound himself around my ankles, getting a smattering of white fur on my jeans.
“No, no, Purce,” I said, brushing at the hair. “Can’t have any white showing. I’ve got to blend into the shadows, remember?”
Purrday let out a loud meow as if to say, Now you’re going a bit too far, human.
I wiggled my finger at the cat. “It’s a good thing that I broke into the British Embassy in Episode 111 of Spy Anyone. I’ll need those skills tonight.”
Purrday cocked his head at me and let out a soft sound that sounded almost like a bleat—or a whine. Like he was trying to persuade me to give up this cockamamie idea, call Josh, and let the authorities handle it.
“I would, but what if I’m wrong? I don’t want to look foolish in front of Josh. I’ve done that enough already. I didn’t want to involve Gary or Olivia either. After all, if I’m wrong, and I get caught—well, I’ll be in a bit of hot water. But if I can find the murder weapon that will prove Londra’s innocence and bring her and Amelia’s murderer to justice, taking this little risk will be worth it.”
Purrday’s eye flashed, and his tail did a rapid thump-thump-thump against the comforter.
“I know I’ve got all these other pieces of evidence, but they could be cleverly explained away, and our murderer is nothing if not clever. The actual murder weapon, though, would be tough to challenge.” I gave my jacket a tug and Purrday a swift pat on the head. “Wish me luck, Purrday. You too, Kahlua.”
Purrday threw back his head. “Me-oooooow!” he warbled. From the depths underneath my bed, I heard a similar wail from my Siamese.
It sounded more like a warning than a good luck wish. But I was determined to see this through.
∞
The museum was dark when I pulled into the parking lot. I parked my convertible at the farthest end—not far from where Londra’s Cadillac still sat—pulled on my black gloves, and exited the car. I tiptoed stealthily through the lot, making sure to keep to the edges by the shrubbery. I melded into the shadows around the building and glided to the rear service entrance, where I removed my credit card from my back pocket. A pick and a tension wrench would probably have worked much better, but I didn’t have time to order them off the Internet and I didn’t want to go into the local hardware store to purchase them. I’d have to settle for the poor man’s method and hope it worked like it had on my show.
I knelt and slid the long end of my Amex Prepaid Card in between the door frame and the locking side of the door, just as I’d seen on the You Tube instructional video I’d watched earlier to refresh my memory. I angled the card downward, making sure it was perpendicular to the door. Then, saying a quick prayer the door didn’t have a deadbolt set, I slowly but firmly pulled the card toward me while turning the door handle. I held my breath until I heard a sharp click, and then I gave the door handle a twist. It swung inward, and I sent up a quick thank you as I shoved AmEx back into my pocket and entered the darkened museum.
I waited a few seconds, letting my eyes adjust, and then pulled the pencil flashlight I’d brought out and switched it on. The tiny beam of light cut through the inky black, not a whole lot, but enough that I could see where I was going. I squared my shoulders and headed straight down the corridor, to the library where I’d found Amelia’s body. The door was closed, and I said another quick prayer that it wasn’t locked. I didn’t think I could get lucky enough to actually pick two locks in one evening. I twisted the knob, and the door opened silently. I shone my light around, finally settling it on the object of my search: the bust of William Shakespeare Amelia’s body had been stretched beneath.
I walked over to the bust and shone my flashlight on it, paying particular attention to the neck area. Of course, my theory wasn’t a hundred percent. There was a chance that I could be wrong, but I fervently hoped not. With my limited light, though, it was hard to see and for a minute I considered going for the light switch. I ran my fingers along Shakespeare’s collarbone. Drat. Nothing.
“Oh, come on,” I grumbled. “If you were all made at the same school, it stands to reason you might all have a secret cavity—my theory depends on it.” I pressed down a little harder, thinking that if Purrday were here, he’d have found it for me. And then my fingers hit a slightly raised portion
of marble. I bit back an excited cry and set the flashlight on the stool, positioning it so the light shone on the spot where my fingers lay. I pressed down hard, as I’d seen Purrday do with Edgar Allen, and the small section of marble moved, revealing a small cavity like the one in my own bust. I reached into my pocket for the baggie I’d brought as my fingers touched something hard and sharp inside the cavity. Carefully, very carefully, I pulled out the object wedged in there and held it up.
In the pale light from the flashlight, the Tuareg knife appeared more sinister than ever. Streaks of red covered the jagged edges of the blade. It had to be Amelia’s blood. I held the knife very carefully by the end of the handle and dropped it into the baggie. I reached for the flashlight at the same instant I heard a soft click and the lights in the room went on, illuminating me in their glare.
“It seems we both had the same activity in mind for tonight. I’ll take that, Crishell,” said Mazie Madison. She was dressed almost identical to me, except her sneakers were white. She pointed with the toe of said sneaker. “Drop it right here,” she said, levelling the revolver she held at my chest.
The blood pounded in my ears as I stared into Mazie’s eyes, eyes that looked a little bit wild and a lot crazy. Slowly, I set the baggie containing the knife down and kicked it toward her. It skidded across the polished floor. Mazie thrust out her foot and stopped it, then bent down to pick it up.
Eyes still glittering, she faced me. “Great minds think alike. Once I heard that conversation this morning, I knew I had to get rid of this once and for all. I see you had the same thought.”
“I wasn’t sure what I’d find,” I said. “I wasn’t positive Shakespeare had a hidden cavity like my Poe bust, but once I confirmed they came from the same maker, I thought the chances were pretty good.”
She waved the gun at me, indicating a nearby chair. I sank into it. “Hands where I can see them,” she barked. I placed both on top of the desk, and she gave a satisfied nod. “I am curious, though. How on earth did you ever figure it out?” Another high-pitched laugh tittered out of her. “If I do say so myself, I’m a pretty darn good actress. Maybe as good as you, or better.”
That I had to agree with. “You certainly are,” I said. “And to tell you the truth, up until a little bit ago I wasn’t entirely certain if it was you or Mayor Hart.”
“Carolyn?” Her nose wrinkled. “Why on earth—? Oh, never mind.” She waved her hand. “What convinced you?”
“Mel Feller’s neighbor. I took your picture with my iPhone at Sweet Perks this morning and I went over there to see if she could identify you as the lady friend she told me about. She made a positive identification.”
“So.” Mazie’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You figured out that I was the woman from the museum Mel was having the affair with.”
“Londra respected you a great deal,” I said. “So much so that she was willing to let the rumors circulate about her and Mel to protect you. You were angry with Amelia, weren’t you, for not supporting your nomination to have him put on the museum board.”
“Oh, you bet I was,” Mazie said with feeling. “I was plenty pissed over it. But if you think that’s the reason I killed her, you’re dead wrong.”
“No, you killed Amelia because she threatened to reveal that you stole those knives to give to Mel. She figured it out the same way I did, I’m sure.”
“Yeah? And what way was that?”
I leaned a bit forward in the chair. “That day I visited you at the museum after Amelia’s murder, I spoke a bit with Londra. She told me that she did most of the signing, and she could sign your name as well as you could. She also told me her little secret about putting a small checkmark inside the n in Madison so she could tell what papers she’d signed and what ones you signed. I compared both bills of lading. They were both signed by you. Londra’s distinctive checkmark was missing. That meant that Londra didn’t unpack the shipment originally, as you’d said. You did.”
Mazie’s lips thinned. “I made the mistake of leaving the file on my desk. Amelia found it when she was snooping around, as she usually did on a Sunday, and she realized almost immediately what I’d done. She knew that habit of Londra’s too. She threatened to have me charged with theft if I didn’t get the knives back from Mel and return them. When I said I didn’t care what happened to me as long as Mel was safe, she said that she could send him to prison as well.” Mazie had the nerve to look affronted at the idea that Amelia would target Melvin Feller. “Apparently when he’d worked for Garrett, years ago, there was an incident with the museum funds, and Amelia had that evidence too. She used it to threaten Garrett as well. It was one thing for her to threaten me, but to threaten Mel … and then you came to town. Amelia was certain you would be against her, especially if you found out about her affair with your aunt’s first love. She made sure the poster display was voted down, and when you started to raise such a stink about it, well …” She shrugged and smiled. “It was as if the Universe was showing me a way out of my troubles. I wrote that note to Amelia, knowing how paranoid she was—and guilt-ridden, believe it or not. I knew she’d call you, and once she did, I surprised her in the office and slit her throat. Oh, the look on her face when she saw it was me! I thought that note and leaving the photo of the Friday poster in her hand was a nice touch to put the heat on you for a while.”
I lifted my chin. “I arrived at the museum quicker than you anticipated, though.”
Mazie’s lips slashed into a thin line. “True. I had to get out fast, so I shoved the knife into the bust. I knew about the cavity, because Sue showed it to me before I bought the bust. I had an idea it might come in handy someday. I figured I had plenty of time to get the knife and dispose of it once all the hoopla about the deaths died down. Until today.”
“And once Londra figured out you were responsible for Amelia’s death, you decided to kill her, make it look like a suicide and frame her for Amelia’s murder.”
“It was like killing two birds with one stone, really. I knew she was allergic to peanuts, so I told her I wanted to talk. I was going to make restitution on the knives, turn myself in. Little fool believed me. She was going to call you, tip you off, so I had to act fast. I had a needle filled with peanut oil, I jabbed her in the back of the neck. Then I wrote the note and sprinkled some shells around so it would be obvious she’d taken her own life. I knew the handwriting on the notes would match. What I didn’t count on,” she added with a baleful glare at me, “was you smelling a rat and complicating things by sticking your nose in. Really, Shell, you have no one to blame for your current predicament except yourself. If you’d just minded your own business, everything was tied up neat and tidy. Everyone would have been happy.”
“And an innocent woman would be forever accused of a crime she didn’t commit,” I said. “How could you do that to someone you’d worked with for years, who was so loyal to you?”
“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “Neither was framing you. Believe it or not, I like you, Shell. But I couldn’t let either Mel or myself go to prison. It’s survival of the fittest.”
Man, not only was she crazy, she was the worst type of crazy. A person who appeared totally sane on the outside. I decided to try a little more voice of reason. “Think about it, Mazie. Detective Bloodgood has the same concerns I had. It would be only a matter of time before you were exposed.”
“By then, I would be far away from here,” Mazie said. “I was planning to resign from the board next week. I’d already tapped Carolyn to take my place permanently, and the board was in full agreement.”
“And Mel? How does he feel about you committing murder for him?”
She stood straight at that. “He doesn’t know,” she said in a choked tone. “And he can never know. He thought I bought the knife as a gift for him, and I didn’t have the heart to take it back. I don’t want him to think badly of me. That’s why, unfortunately, you must die,
Crishell. I am sorry. But without you to fuel the fires, interest in these deaths will wane.”
I stared at her. She really believed that! “You’re forgetting my friends. Gary and Olivia will know my death was no accident. Josh is already suspicious …”
“But not of me. You haven’t shared your findings with your friends yet, have you?” She gave me a knowing glance. “Of course not. You’re the type that likes to have all their ducks in a row before they commit. Isn’t that what ruined your last relationship with that director? Oh, yes,” she said at my startled look, “I read gossip magazines. No one would ever suspect me, not in a million years, once I destroy that file once and for all … and silence Mel’s nosy neighbor, you know. Just in case.”
Oh, Lord. She was all primed to commit more murders. How could she even think that would go unnoticed in such a small town? Olivia’s assessment of her had been right: she was a coiled spring, ready to break.
“Mazie,” I said. “Don’t do this.”
“I was here, at the museum, going over some paperwork when I heard a sound. I grabbed the gun that we keep on hand and raced in here to see you over the bust—trying to steal it—and I shot you in self-defense,” she babbled, waving the gun in the air. “No court in the land would convict me, especially when I turn on the waterworks. My God, I killed Shell Marlowe! I didn’t mean to! I’ll be racked with guilt for days, weeks, I’ll have to leave to get over it … and I can do it too.”
“You’ll never get away with this. You’ll never make it stick.”
She stared at me, and then barked out a laugh. “Why, Shell. Of course I will. Look at what I’ve gotten away with already. I’m an excellent actress, you know I am.”
It all sounded crazy, but the deuce of it was, the woman was diabolical, and she was a damn good actress. Heck, she’d had me fooled up until a few hours ago. I had questioned the evidence, thought for sure I had to be wrong … now I was sorry, damn sorry, that I’d never shared my suspicions with Gary or with Josh.
The Time for Murder is Meow Page 26
