“It’s Kelly,” came the soft reply. “Let me in. Thom’s been arrested. They think he killed Mr. Wilson.”
I leaped to my feet and pulled the door open. Kelly Greene stood there, her fair skin drained of color, her blue eyes clouded. “They think Thom killed Mr. Wilson,” she said again.
I pulled her inside and led her to one of the wooden chairs facing the desk. “Here. Sit down. Who told you that?”
She sat calmly, hands folded in her lap. She seemed to be looking past us. “Pa called me. He says I need to come home. There’s cops all over the place. They took Thom away in handcuffs.”
“Thom was at your house?” I sat beside her. “He was hiding at your house?”
“No. He was out back. In the shelter.”
“The shelter? What do you mean?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
Kelly seemed to notice Primrose for the first time. “Are you crying, Primrose?” she said. “Don’t worry. Thom wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
Primrose’s voice was sharp. “How did the little sneak kill Jonathan?” Kelly’s face contorted, and she began to weep silently, while Primrose continued to demand an answer. “Tell me how he did it, Kelly. And why?”
“Stop it, both of you,” I said and stood between them. “I’m going to call Pete. He’ll know what’s going on.” My phone buzzed before I could pull it from my pocket.
Great minds.
“Pete,” I said. “What’s happened?”
“I’ll explain later. I’m on my way there,” he said. “I’m bringing Joe Greene over so he can take Kelly home.”
“She’s here with me, in Mr. Pennington’s office,” I said. “Primrose is, too.”
“Good. I’ll want to talk to both of them. Stay where you are.”
He hung up before I could say anything more.
“Pete’s on his way,” I told the two. “Your dad’s coming with him to take you home, Kelly. It’ll be all right.” I knew it was a stupid thing to say. Nothing about this was going to be all right. I went to the window and looked outside. The TV mobile trucks were gone from the parking lot. People moved along on the sidewalk, pushing strollers, carrying shopping bags. It looked like a perfectly normal day out there. As I watched, Pete’s Crown Vic rolled onto the lot. He and Joe Greene got out and hurried toward the front of the building.
“They’re coming,” I said. “Wait here. I’m going to meet them downstairs and bring them right up.”
I took the elevator to the first floor, bypassing the mezzanine. Joe Greene and Pete were coming through the glass doors. Joe still wore his apron, drawing curious looks from people in the lobby. I met them at the foot of the main staircase, and we started up the stairs together.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. “I left Primrose and Kelly in Mr. Pennington’s office. They’ve calmed down some, but they’re both terribly upset. Is it true? Thom’s been arrested and Mr. Wilson is dead?”
We reached the mezzanine landing, with its life-size portrait of the old store’s founder. Pete began to answer my question, but I wasn’t able to focus on his words. Instead, I stopped short, staring at Joe. I knew without a doubt why I’d felt as though we’d met before.
Joe Greene was the spitting image of Oliver Wendell Trumbull.
Had Pete noticed it, too? Had anybody? Joe looked younger than the man in the portrait, but to me, the resemblance was unmistakable.
Pete’s words began to filter into my consciousness. “A pretty grim scene. Thom was just sitting there in the backyard, holding the weapon.”
“The weapon?” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded thin, wavering.
Pete gave me a searching look. “You okay? Yeah, the weapon. Hedge clippers.”
We’d reached the director’s office. I pushed the door open, trying to process what Pete had just said. The mental image was terrifying.
Kelly and Primrose were still there but had changed their positions. Primrose had moved from the swivel chair to the one next to Kelly. She had put one arm around the smaller girl and was speaking softly. “Don’t cry, Kelly,” she murmured. “Look. Your dad’s here.”
Joe Greene went to his daughter and stood there with her in his arms, her head nestled on his broad shoulder, tears in his eyes. “Let’s go home, darlin’,” he said. “Pa will make everything all better. Don’t cry.”
Pete knelt down beside Primrose. “You going to be okay, Primrose?” he asked. “You feel up to answering a few questions?”
She nodded. “I’m okay, Pete. Sorry, Lee. I lost it for a minute down there, didn’t I?”
“I understand,” I said. “What now, Pete?”
“Can you take a couple of hours off ?” he asked. “I’d like you to follow me back to the Greenes’ in your car. The tavern’s closed up for now, and I need you to stay there with Kelly for a little while. The chief wants to talk to Joe and Primrose.”
“I’m sure I can,” I said. “I’ll tell Mr. Pennington what’s happening.”
“You don’t have to go into any detail,” Pete said. “Just tell him you need the afternoon off.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the Greenes’ as soon as I can. Do you want me to drive the girls?”
“I think Kelly would rather stay with Joe. You can drive Primrose if you want.”
“Primrose?” I looked at the blonde, who nodded her agreement. “We’ll be right behind you.”
I walked down the stairs to my classroom, while Pete and Joe, one on each side, escorted Kelly to the elevator. Primrose went to the third floor to get her coat and purse and said she’d meet me at my car. I found Mr. Pennington and Therese among the dwindling crowd watching TV and saw that regular programming had resumed.
I told the director that I’d need most of the afternoon off. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promised, “and I’ll be here for the program tonight, of course.”
He didn’t ask for an explanation, and I didn’t offer one. “Kelly’s dad has already picked her up, and Primrose is coming along with me,” I told him. “My class has their reporting assignments. Therese, I’m leaving you in charge. Just call me if you have any problems.”
Therese was clearly pleased with the new responsibility, but still concerned about her friend. “Is Kelly going to be all right? She’s awfully worried about Thom.”
“We all are,” I said, and then, suppressing an urge to say, “Carry on,” I left.
Primrose was waiting beside the Corvette when I got there. “Nice wheels,” she said as I unlocked the doors. She’d shed the platform heels and the miniskirt in favor of jeans and ankle boots. “I’m guessing Pete wants to talk to me about Jonathan, right?”
“He didn’t tell me, but I guess so.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” She gazed out the window for a moment. “But I called Friedrich, just in case.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” I said. “Want to tell me the rest of the story behind Tabitha’s letters?”
“Okay. That old woman had a wicked crush on the president, for sure.” She smiled briefly at the thought. “She must have been pretty mad at her husband for breaking the law, too. About the gold, I mean.”
“You said she was stealing it. That doesn’t sound like something Tabitha would do.”
“She wasn’t stealing it for herself. She was trying to save it for the president. She even scratched a tiny T on every coin.” Primrose gave a helpless palms-up gesture. “Nobody paid any attention. Must have been frustrating.”
“I should think so. But what became of the gold?”
“That’s the big question. That’s what Jonathan and I tried to figure out back then. Friedrich too. They figure the gold still belongs to the Treasury. Friedrich’s been racing all over town, trying to figure out what happened to it. Hell, he even tailed me that night. Went to the old guy’s wake, too, watching who came and went.” She gave a short laugh. “Anyway, we knew it had to be in Salem someplace, and we were pretty sure it was in the Trumbull building. But it was
still private property as long as it was kept up and the taxes were being paid.”
“But who would be paying taxes on it after Tabitha died?”
“Part of Tabitha’s estate. Payments were made through a Boston law firm. Right up until a couple of years ago.”
A puzzle piece slid into place. “That’s why Mr. Wilson was so determined to save it from the wrecking ball,” I said. “That’s why he moved here and ran for city council.”
“When I got this assignment, I didn’t even know he was here, honest to God. I thought he’d gone on to other things.” She looked down. “And now he’s dead. All because of President Roosevelt’s gold.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “Nobody’s mentioned gold at all.”
“Thom had a marked gold coin, remember? Friedrich pegged him for that. He’s . . .” Her words broke off as we pulled into the parking lot at Greene’s Tavern.
A uniformed officer signaled for me to stop. Bright yellow tape was stretched across the entrance to the lot. More of it was draped along the low stone wall beside the tavern. I stopped the car and rolled down the window.
“Where can I park, Officer? I’m Lee Barrett.” I handed him my license. “Pete Mondello asked me to meet him here.”
“Yes, ma’am. He just got here. You can park it right here and walk on back. I’ll take your keys, just in case we have to move it.” He moved one hand along the fender. “Sweet ride.”
I handed over the keys, and Primrose and I started across the muddy parking lot toward the bar. The neon beer signs had been turned off, and the place looked deserted.
“Do you know what Kelly meant by the ‘shelter out back’?” I asked, looking around the property. “And I wonder if ‘out back’ means this side of the house or the other.”
“I asked her about it when you left us. It’s some kind of old World War II bomb shelter they found on the property when they moved in.” She stopped walking and looked at me. “Why? Is that where they found Jonathan? That where he . . . died?” The brown eyes filled with tears again, and I put an arm around her waist.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Come on, Primrose. Hang on. You can get through this.”
Pete opened the tavern door. No music or wood smoke, no friendly clinking of bottles or smell of hot dogs greeted us as we stepped inside the darkened long room. Joe Greene and Kelly sat close together in one of the booths. For a long moment nobody spoke.
Pete tapped Kelly’s shoulder gently. “Kelly, why don’t you and Lee go upstairs for a while? You’ll be warmer and more comfortable there while I talk over some business with your dad and Primrose.”
Kelly rose, almost trancelike, and moved toward me. I reached for her hand and led her toward the stairway. Pete was right. It was warmer and more comfortable in the Greenes’ upstairs kitchen. Kelly and I sat together at the harvest table on a long bench. We were next to a window, made cheerful with red- and white-checked café curtains.
Kelly pushed the bottom tier of curtains apart. “That’s the bomb shelter . . . right there,” she said. She pointed toward the base of the hillside just inside the low wall of fieldstones. “See? The door is open.”
I moved closer to the pane and peered out. “Where?”
She pointed again. “Right there. See where that yellow tape is tied to a tree? That’s where Thom was hiding.”
I could see it then—a neat oblong outlined by weathered boards amid a tangle of low bushes, dead grass, and stunted trees. As I watched, a uniformed officer emerged, followed by two men with CSI lettered on white jumpsuits.
That must be where it happened.
I pulled the curtain shut. “Tell me about the shelter, Kelly,” I said. “Have you ever been inside?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Pa said I couldn’t go in there. It isn’t safe.”
“How did Thom know about it? Did you tell him?”
“No. Pa told him. It was because of the Christmas presents, I guess.”
“Christmas presents?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh.” She dropped her voice. “I wasn’t supposed to know that the shelter was where Pa hid my Christmas presents. I figured it out when I heard some noise out there Christmas night and saw Thom and Pa closing it up.”
“Did they know you saw them?”
“Sure. I asked Pa about it the next day. He told me he’d hidden my presents in there because I’m so nosy.” A quick shy smile. “It’s true. I am. Anyway, Pa told me that he got them all out okay Christmas morning but couldn’t get the door back on straight by himself. It’s pretty heavy. So he asked Thom to help him with it that night—so nobody would see where the shelter was and go in there and maybe get hurt, you know?”
“I see,” I said, trying to put it all together in my mind.
“They must have been really drunk, though,” she said. Again the little smile.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well,” she said, “what woke me up was the two of them singing ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful.’”
CHAPTER 29
Things were coming together. The witness had seen three men that night. She’d identified Thom as one of them. If Kelly was right, Joe Greene had been the man on the other side of Bill Sullivan.
Did that mean Bill had been inside the bomb shelter ? Why? And how did he get there?
I didn’t believe for a minute the story about hidden Christmas presents. I needed to tell Pete what I’d learned. I went to the head of the stairs. Another male voice came from below, and I guessed that Mr. Friedrich had arrived. He wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted right now. Especially by me.
Kelly had grown silent again. At least I could jot down what she’d told me so that I could relay the information to Pete as accurately as possible. I returned to the table, pulled an index card from my purse, and began to write, trying to quote her exact words. I covered both sides of the card, finishing with “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” I’d just finished texting an abbreviated version to my aunt when Pete appeared in the kitchen. He motioned for me to join him beside the soapstone sink, out of Kelly’s earshot.
“Lee, I have to go over to the station. Chief Whaley wants to get statements from Joe and Primrose. Friedrich is here, too, and he’s coming along with us. Will you be all right here with her?” He motioned toward Kelly. She sat quietly, looking down at the tabletop, absently twisting her hair. “There’s an officer right outside, if you need any help,” he said.
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Here.” I handed him the index card. “Read this when you get a minute, okay?”
He tucked it into his pocket. “Sure. Thanks, Lee. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I appreciate your doing this.”
“No problem,” I said as he left, knowing that there were plenty of problems, but none that I knew how to solve.
“Where’s Pete going?” Kelly asked.
“He’ll be back soon. They had to go over to Pete’s work for . . . something.” I returned to the long bench, sitting close to her.
“Probably something about Thom, I guess.”
“Maybe. Kelly, if Thom didn’t do anything wrong, Pete will find out. I promise.”
“Good. I’m sure he didn’t do what they’re saying he did to Mr. Wilson.”
“What have you heard about that?” I asked, hoping she didn’t know yet about the murder weapon.
“Before you got here, I heard the policemen talking.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “They said Thom shoved those big old hedge clippers right up into Mr. Wilson’s throat. Got blood all over himself, then just sat out there on the stone wall until somebody saw him and called 911.”
“You don’t believe it,” I said, knowing as I spoke that she truly didn’t. I took her hand. “Mr. Pennington says the secret to life is best friends,” I told her, hoping Jessica Tandy wouldn’t mind my giving the director credit. “You’re the kind of person who stands by her friends, no matter what.”
She lifted her chin, her expression brightening. “That’s what I am. Tho
m is my best friend, and he didn’t do it. I’m sure.”
“I pray that you’re right,” I said. “I really do.”
“Pete’ll figure it out,” she said. “I’m sure he will. I’m going to try not to worry anymore.”
“Worrying doesn’t do much good, anyway, Kelly.”
“I know. Lee, do you think the witches will still come to the school tonight? Even if Mr. Wilson is dead?”
“Why, yes. I expect that they will. Sad as it all is, it really has nothing to do with them, does it? Besides, the TV station has already done a lot of preparation for the show. River’s show.”
“Is River your best friend?” she asked.
I thought about that for a moment. “Yes, she is,” I said. “The show tonight is very important to her, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure it’s a success.”
“I hope all of our class will be there. I know Therese will,” she said. “I think Sammy will come, but I’m not sure about Duke. And probably Pete won’t be able to get Thom out of jail in time for it. What do you think?”
“These things take time,” I told her, sidestepping the question. “I’m sure everybody is working hard, trying to figure it all out.”
“That’s good.” She pushed the curtain aside again and looked out the window. “Can I go back to school when Pa gets back? It’s going to be boring around here until they say we can open the bar.”
“All right with me,” I said. “We’ll see what Pete and your dad say.”
“Will we be able to watch them set up the television stuff? And can we meet the witches before the show?” The sparkle was beginning to come back to her blue eyes. I was glad about that, but fearful of the disappointment she was going to have to face when Pete couldn’t pull off the miracle it would take to set Thom free.
“I’m not sure about all that,” I told her. “Maybe. But I promise I’ll introduce you to River.”
“If anybody told you River had done something really, really bad . . . something terrible, you wouldn’t believe it.” It was a statement, not a question.
I pictured River in her red satin dress, silver stars in her braid. Then I pictured her holding blood-soaked hedge clippers and quickly shook the thought away.
Tails, You Lose (A Witch City Mystery Book 2) Page 26
