“Well, if she turns up her nose at us, you can still come by for your food. The supper starts at six, but if you need to drop her off a little earlier, we have plenty of people here to take care of her, and the food for the theater’s all ready.”
I glanced at my watch. Four thirty. It would be nice to get this over with.
“I could bring her now,” I said.
“Splendid.”
So I dashed down to my car and headed for the Caerphilly Inn.
Chapter 35
The college radio station was back to more palatable Christmas fare—soothing piano versions of Christmas carols. And at five o’clock they’d be continuing their quest to play every known recording of Handel’s Messiah before the end of the holiday season. Today’s offering, the announcer burbled, would feature Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. He rattled on breathlessly, giving the entire cast list.
“Just get back to the Christmas music,” I muttered. But by the time he did, I was pulling up in front of the Inn.
As I was walking into the lobby, I ran into Horace about to make his exit, with his forensic bag in hand. He looked tired—no wonder, given how early he’d been up and how much he’d had to do today.
But he didn’t just look tired—he looked … grim?
“How was your search?” I asked.
“Meg, you know I can’t tell you that,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said. “I figured that was a little less impersonal than asking ‘how was your day?’ Especially since I already know you’ve had an exhausting and crazy busy day.”
“Didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said.
“And I shouldn’t be prying. Truce.” I held up my hands as if in surrender.
That got a smile out of him.
“Truce,” he echoed.
“Am I allowed to ask if anyone has found Haver yet?”
“You’re allowed to ask, but as far as I’ve heard he hasn’t been found. Sorry.”
“Not your fault the jerk decided to go on the lam,” I said. “And frankly, at this point I don’t care if he’s guilty or not. I just hope you’ve found something that definitely either incriminates him or absolves him. This business of not knowing whether he’ll be still free to go onstage opening night is shredding all our nerves.”
“What happens if he can’t go on?” Horace asked, shifting his bag to his other hand. “Does the play get canceled and you have to give all the people their money back?”
“No,” I said. “If Haver can’t go on, Michael will take his place.”
“And he can do that, no problem, right?”
“No problem. In fact, I think Michael gave up on him when he didn’t come back after lunch. They’ve been doing run-throughs during the day, to make up for not being able to rehearse, and if Haver’s still AWOL Michael will play his part at dress rehearsal tonight. And at opening tomorrow night.”
“Good.” Horace nodded, and set out across the parking lot toward his police cruiser.
Had Horace just dropped me a rather large hint?
Time would tell.
I went inside the Inn. Ekaterina was standing by the registration desk. She did not look happy.
“I gather Horace found some evidence in Haver’s room,” I said.
“Did he say what?”
I shook my head.
“But this is not acceptable! We have a guest who may turn out to be a homicidal maniac, and the police tell us nothing!”
“I don’t think he’s a homicidal maniac,” I said. “Just a common or garden murderer.”
“Oh, and that is so much better. Well, I will see what I can find out.”
“If you find out anything, let me know,” I said. “Meanwhile, I am going to see if Mrs. Frost wants to go to the potluck dinner at Trinity.”
“Good. She needs distraction. Distraction of a sort that does not come with a paper parasol in it.” Ekaterina dashed off, looking preoccupied. I took the elevator up to the third floor and followed the hallway to Mrs. Frost’s room.
As I knocked, I glanced farther down the corridor. The doorway to 314, Haver’s room, was blocked off with several lengths of crime-scene tape whose gaudy yellow color clashed with the subdued lavender and moss green of the corridor.
“Yes? Who is it?”
Mrs. Frost’s door opened the few inches allowed by the security chain, and she peered up at me through the opening.
“It’s me. Meg Langslow.” No reaction. “I was the one who drove you over here.”
“Oh, yes, dear. That was very kind of you.”
“Reverend Robyn Smith asked me to come by and see if you’d decided to accept her invitation to come to the potluck dinner tonight at Trinity Episcopal,” I said.
“I’d only be in the way,” she said.
“Of course not,” I said. “There’s always plenty of food—way more than needed—and people would enjoy meeting you. Robyn, in particular, is looking forward to it. She’s a big animal lover—I’m sure she’d love hearing about your cats.”
“Well … if you’re sure it’s not an imposition.”
“Robyn’s worried that the snow might keep people away,” I improvised. “We really do need people to swell the crowd and eat up all the food.”
“Give me a minute, then.”
She shut the door, and I could hear rustling inside. Then silence. Then more rustling. I felt a surge of impatience and irritation, so I took a couple of deep breaths and reminded myself that she was an old lady. And old lady in a wheelchair. Doing things took longer for her.
Then I heard the security chain rattling. And the dead bolt being turned.
“All right, dear. The door is unlocked.”
She was sitting about two yards inside the door, smiling at me. I mentally kicked myself for my impatience. She wore a red flowered hat—what Mother would call a church hat—a blouse printed with a bold red poinsettia pattern, and bright green stretch pants. Her coat was draped across her lap and she was clutching a well-worn but still presentable navy-blue purse with both hands.
“I hear it’s bitter cold out there—will my coat be enough?” She held up the sleeve of a navy-blue cloth coat.
“It wouldn’t be if we were going to walk, but you should be okay,” I said. “My car heater works fine, and you won’t be out in the cold more than a minute. Shall I push your chair?”
“Let me just make sure I have the key card for my room.” She peeked fruitlessly into two of the purse’s outside pockets before spotting the card in the third.
“Ready to go!” she chirped.
I wheeled her down the long hallway to the elevator. The Inn’s thick, cushy carpet felt wonderfully soft underfoot, but it didn’t make pushing a wheelchair very easy. I wondered if I should ask Meredith if there was any way of getting an electric wheelchair for Mrs. Frost. So much easier not only for her but for anyone who was helping her.
I’d worry about that later. All I had to do was get her to the potluck. Once we reached Trinity, there would be plenty of helping hands to take care of her, and I could go back to the theater bearing goodies in plenty of time for the dress rehearsal.
In fact, the helping hands kicked in as soon as I hit the lobby. One bellman insisted on taking my place behind Mrs. Frost’s chair while another took my keys and ran to fetch my car. All I had to do was watch while they carefully hoisted Mrs. Frost into the passenger seat and stowed her wheelchair in the back of the Twinmobile.
Just as the bellhops were closing the doors, my phone rang. Robyn. I answered with some trepidation—what if she was calling with some change in plan?
“Meg—are you still planning to bring Mrs. Frost to the potluck?”
“She’s sitting here beside me and we were about to head your way,” I said.
“Wonderful! I’m so looking forward to meeting her! But tell me—could you run a small errand on your way?”
“What’s the errand?” Not that I didn’t want to help Robyn in whatever way I could, but
if, for example, her small errand involved a quick trip down to Richmond, or up to Dulles Airport, I would need to weasel out. “And remember, I don’t have my usual cargo space—Mrs. Frost’s wheelchair is pretty big.” On top of weighing a ton.
“Well, there are going to be such a lot of people at the buffet, and they should all be in a festive holiday mood, so I thought it might be a splendid time to show off some of the golden retriever puppies and see if we can place a few more. So could you possibly drop by your house and bring along a few?”
“Hang on.” I looked over at Mrs. Frost. “Would you mind if we made a short detour on our way to the church?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m enjoying the chance to get out and see the scenery.”
“I think I can manage that,” I said to Robyn. “Anything to reduce the animal population of our barn. How many?”
“I’d say half a dozen, including some of each sex if they’re old enough that you can tell which is which.”
“One coeducational half dozen puppies coming up.”
“Wonderful! I so look forward to seeing them!”
I wondered if Robyn was in the market for a puppy herself. I was about to ask if I should bring along a cat or two while I was at it, but stopped myself in time. Of course not. Mrs. Frost was going to be there, and the sight of people taking away some of her cats would be bound to upset her. Doubtless Robyn had already thought of that.
So I merely said good-bye and started up the Twinmobile.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Frost said, as we started down the Inn’s gently curving mile-long driveway. “I am getting to see the sights these days.”
Her voice sounded cheerful enough, but her smile looked tremulous, and I reminded myself that she’d just lost a family member—though I hoped not the only family she had left. Then I saw her yawn, delicately.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “It’s not your company, dear; it’s about my nap time. Is this one of those seats that leans back?”
I explained how to find the lever and she exclaimed with delight at how comfortable the seat was to nap in.
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, letting her fall asleep in my car. Even including the detour out to our house, the trip to Trinity wasn’t that long. But the poor old soul looked so droopy. In fact, her breathing had already slowed by the time we hit the main road, and not long after that she began snoring softly.
Well, at least I’d have peace and quiet on the drive. I hadn’t been looking forward to another stream-of-consciousness monologue. I’d had a hard enough time listening to it this morning on the way into town, and that was when we were all actively trying to glean every possible bit of information about her and Willimer.
I thought of turning on the radio to hear a little soft Christmas music—but no; it had just turned five o’clock, which meant the college radio station would have started playing the Messiah. I’d save that in case we needed something to jolt Mrs. Frost out of her nap when we arrived at the church.
When we were about halfway to the house, I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket.
Chapter 36
“I should get this,” I murmured. Mrs. Frost snored softly as I pulled into the mouth of a neighbor’s driveway, fished out the phone, and answered it.
“Ekaterina here. I have obtained the information you requested.”
The information I requested? It took a minute for the light to dawn.
“You mean you figured out what Horace found in Haver’s room?” I asked.
“Yes. But something does not compute.”
“Like what?”
“When Deputy Hollingsworth arrived, I assigned one of my best operatives to observe his activities.”
“One of your best whats?”
“Operatives. Lupe Esparza. One of my housekeeping staff. To look at her, you would think she is nothing but a sweet little old abuelita, and with the guests, she prefers to pretend that she has no English.”
Yes, I was pretty sure I’d met Lupe.
“Lupe managed to overhear a phone call between Deputy Hollingsworth and the chief. Apparently his find was a wallet belonging to Mr. Willimer.”
“I can see how that would be somewhat suspicious.”
“Especially since it was stained with blood, and contained a receipt from the Clay County ABC store that was dated at eight forty-seven p.m. yesterday.”
Damn. A good thing Michael was rehearsing as Scrooge, since the chances of his having to take over from Haver just reached near certainty.
“Well, I guess that explains why the chief wants to talk to Haver,” I said. And why both Vern and Horace hinted that he might not be sending Haver back to rehearsal.
“Yes, but it does not make sense. How did the wallet get there?”
“Presumably Haver left it.” I was catching on. “Which would be a pretty stupid thing to do, I admit. He may not know who’s searching his room and confiscating his booze, but by now he’s absolutely figured out it’s happening. Why leave such incriminating evidence in his room, where the searchers are sure to find it? Why not wipe it clean of prints and toss it into a storm drain, or a trash can, or even just a big snowbank?”
“Yes, very good questions—although people do strange things under the influence of strong drink,” Ekaterina said. “But the question is not why he would do it, but when could he possibly have done it?”
“Oh,” I said. “I see. You mean the wallet wasn’t there this morning—because I think you’d have noticed a random wallet suddenly appearing in a drawer, even without the bloodstains. So he must have hidden it sometime this afternoon.”
“Which is impossible,” she said. “As you perhaps have begun to detect, I have been becoming increasingly provoked with Mr. Haver. Especially after the disappearance of the finch. So I rekeyed his room.”
“You what?”
“Rekeyed his room. So the next time he tried to get in, his card key would not work and he would have to come down to the front desk to get a new one. And then before I left his room, I did a quick search, just to make sure he had not hidden any more bottles there while stealing the finch. There was no wallet in the room at that time. And I instructed all the staff to notify me immediately if Mr. Haver showed up, and to delay him at the front desk until I could speak to him. He has not appeared.”
“So even if he was stupid enough to have wanted to hide the wallet there, he had no access.”
“No legitimate access,” Ekaterina corrected. “If he is a member in good standing of this sinister smuggling gang, perhaps my rekeying the room did little to deter him.”
“Or maybe he’s just the innocent dope we think he is, and a real member of the sinister smuggling gang planted the wallet in his room. You need to tell the chief about this.”
“Yes, but—he will perhaps be displeased with me. When I told him about the disappearance of the finch, he told me to keep everyone out of the room and let him know if Mr. Haver came back. It did not occur to me until later that perhaps when he said everyone he meant to include me. Perhaps he will be enraged that I searched the room.”
“He may not be happy, but if the wallet was planted, he’ll want to know that.”
“Are you sure?”
I glanced over at Mrs. Frost, who was still fast asleep and snoring slightly.
“Yes. Look, I have to drop some puppies and Mrs. Frost off at Trinity Episcopal. When I finish doing that, I’ll drop by the police station.”
“Let me know when you are there,” she said. “And I can meet you there. I would appreciate your assistance when I approach Chief Burke.”
“Yes,” I said. “Talk to you later.”
I hung up and pulled back onto the road.
A few lights were on in the house. Some of the visiting cousins settling in, no doubt. If I were a better person, I’d go in and welcome them, but I was anxious to get Mrs. Frost and the puppies over to Trinity and return to the rehearsal. So instead of parking in front of the house, I pulled into the lane that
led to the barn and parked right outside its doors. I got out of the car, shutting the door quietly so I wouldn’t wake Mrs. Frost.
I felt a pang of worry about her. She looked so peaceful, and her future was so uncertain. What if the chief had no luck finding any relatives? Or what if the relatives wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of her? I was sure Meredith would find some place that could take her, but it might not be anywhere she’d like to be. And it probably wouldn’t allow her even the one cat we’d let her take with her to the Inn.
I should talk to Robyn. She might have some good ideas about where Mrs. Frost could go if no loving family showed up to claim her.
But I could worry about that later.
When I stepped out of the Twinmobile, the cold air hit me all the harder because I’d jacked up the heat to make sure Mrs. Frost wouldn’t feel chilled. A good thing we wouldn’t be staying here long. It was bitter cold. In the teens? I pulled out my phone to check as I opened the barn door—the human-sized door, not the one you could drive a truck through. Yikes, not even in the teens—it was nine degrees Fahrenheit. Probably a record.
I was relieved when I stepped into the relatively balmy air inside the barn. I knew it was only sixty or sixty-five, but it felt like a sauna after the outside. I stood for a moment, flexing my fingers. Should I open the big door and drive the car in? To keep Mrs. Frost warm? Not necessary. All I had to do was run into my office and grab a couple of puppies—the larger ones that Clarence had declared ready either for adoption or for fostering away from their mothers. I could hear a few of them yipping even now. And then we’d be off.
And besides, probably a bad idea to bring her in here, I reminded myself as I pulled the door closed. There was still a wall of cats along one side of the open central space. About a third of the cats I’d seen before were gone, and there was no longer a break in the middle of the row. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? It meant that all the cats Clarence, Dad, and Grandfather had chipped and vaccinated had already found foster homes. And surely the rest would follow suit once they’d had their turn in the makeshift clinic.
How the Finch Stole Christmas! Page 23
