A Founders' Day Death: A Mt. Abrams Mystery (The Mt. Abrams Mysteries Book 2)

by Dee Ernst

  “The problem,” Maggie said, “is just that. Everybody was out and about. How are we going to decide who was out waiting for the parade and who was stalking Rita Ferris?”

  “We need to think about this some more and narrow our focus,“ Shelly said. “Maggie is right. This started with Walt’s body. We need to find the connection between that and Rita.”

  “We also need to talk to Paula. Viv, do you know her?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, no.” Viv picked up a cookie and broke it in half. “What we need to do is be careful. The reason Rita was killed was probably because she heard something or knew something about Walt’s murder. If we find out what she knew, we’ll be next. And I do not want to end up in some rowboat.”

  “We’re on guard,” Maggie said. “We’ll be careful.”

  Viv waved the cookie at Maggie. “We’d better be.”

  The sun was shining the next day, and all the yellow tape around the lake was gone. The rain had washed away anything that might have been missed by the police, Sam explained, so there was no point in keeping people away. But by noon there was no one on the beach. Tessa had grabbed her bike and said she was off to Jerome’s. Cait left for work. The day was sunny and beautiful and deathly quiet.

  I texted Carol.

  U working?

  Not until one.

  Going to walk Boot down to Main Park. Want to come?

  Pick me up.

  Walking down to Main Park would mean walking down Blackburn Road. Which was where, coincidentally, Paula Malleck was staying with the Millers.

  Carol was waiting for me at the corner of Sommerfield and Blackburn. We walked into the park and sat on a bench, looking down the hill and toward the Miller’s house.

  Main Park was divided, more or less in half, by Sommerfield. Upper Main had a few houses on the north end, as well as the library and post office. But Lower Main was nothing but trees and a wildflower meadow and all the wonders of nature, all the way down until it smacked into Rt. 51. The Miller house was an expanded cape cod style house that backed onto Lower Main.

  “Are we waiting for Paula to come out and sit on the deck?” Carol asked.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” I ran my fingers through my hair, resisting the urge to pull at the roots. “I don’t know, Carol. How do we do this? Just go up and knock on the door and ask her who she thought her husband was sleeping with?”

  Boot jumped up on the bench beside me and leaned against me, panting. Carol and I sat for a few minutes, waiting for divine intervention.

  And it came.

  “Look,” Carol said.

  The back door of the Miller’s house opened, and their small white dog came scampering out. Boot’s ears perked.

  “Would Boot eat it?” Carol asked in a whisper.

  I shook my head and let go of the leash. “Nope. Too small.”

  Boot took off like a shot down the hill. I counted slowly to three, then took off after her.

  Carol was right behind me, screaming, “Hey, get your dog!”

  The back door opened again, and a woman hurried out and down the deck. Carol and I arrived just as the two dogs finished their ceremonial butt sniffing and were actually chasing each other in circles.

  I grabbed the leash. “I’m so sorry, she just got away.”

  The woman came down and scooped up the little white dog. “No harm done. Good thing though, Mary would have killed me if I let anything happen to Snooks.”

  “Hello, Paula,” Carol said easily. “It’s good to see you.”

  Paula had changed quite a bit since I’d seen her last, fourteen years ago. She was thinner, her hair an improbable shade of red, and she was dressed in a bright linen sundress. I had remembered her as old and rather frumpy. She had gotten younger looking over the years.

  “Hello, Carol. And is it Ellie?”

  “Yes. You look terrific, Paula,” I said. “Really. I wouldn’t have known you.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. Yes, it’s amazing what life without a miserable husband will do for your looks.”

  Wow. Okay, Paula, let’s just put it out there. “Ah…”

  She laughed. “Please, Ellie, no need to try to be polite. Walt was a horror to live with. I was so glad when he left, I could barely contain myself. Knowing that he hadn’t left me but was killed instead is just icing on the cake. I hated that bastard. Murder was what he deserved. Although, I do feel sorry for poor Aggie. She and Rita were a wonderful couple. I hate thinking that Walt’s death all those years ago has come back to haunt so many people.”

  Carol had eased her way up the steps and was standing right next to Paula. “What do you mean?”

  Paula leaned in and dropped her voice. “She did it.”

  I came closer. “She?”

  Paula waved us onto the deck, dropped Snooks to the floor, and motioned for us to sit. “Everybody is afraid to say anything around me. Like I’ll be offended or reminded of my heartbreaking loss. But whoever Walt was screwing around with probably killed him. And chances are she never left Mt. Abrams. Or if she did, she came back. All these people do. So it only makes sense that Rita saw something or did something after the body was found, and it made her a target.” She sat back and folded her hands. “Stupid. Tragic, but stupid. Rita was always saying ridiculous things that got her into trouble.”

  “Paula, did you have any clue who it was?” I asked. Might as well go for broke.

  She looked at me very carefully. “Do you know that you’re the only person who has ever had the nerve to ask me that question? I always thought it was Lou Lombardi.”

  I tried not to let my jaw hit the ground. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Her mother and I were pretty good friends, and Ellen was always going on about what a wild child Lou was. And she was worried about her sleeping around. And I knew Walt thought quite a lot of Lou. Well, she was a beautiful girl, wasn’t she?”

  “But did you ever hear or see anything from Walt? About Lou, I mean,” Carol asked.

  Paula shrugged. “No. I guess not.” She frowned.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Walt lost interest in having sex the year Danny was born, which was fine with me. He was a lousy lover. I was actually kind of surprised he was going after someone else.” She shook her head slightly. “He’d say he was going out for a bit of the Irish. I always thought he was going down to Taylor’s to drink. But when he’d come back, he wouldn’t be drunk. Once I asked him straight out if he was sleeping with another woman, and he laughed so hard I thought he’d bust a gut.”

  “He’d walk?” Carol asked.

  Paula nodded. “Always. He didn’t like to drive. We barely used that second car.”

  “Paula, what about those lilacs?” I said.

  She smiled. “The boys bought them for me for Mother’s Day. Two little plants. That’s when I decided to line the whole drive with them.” She made a bit of a face. “And to block the view. I liked Aggie and Rita, but they spent a lot of time looking down into our yard, such as it was. So I bought two more plants early in the summer and started to plant them. If I had known it would be so much work, I’d have stuck them in a pot had been done with it. Lots of rocks. After I planted them, I put the rocks back around them, to try to keep the weeds down.”

  “So whoever buried Walt would have had to move the rocks, then dig a hole, put the body in, cover it up, put all the rocks back…that must have taken all night,” I said slowly.

  Paula was watching me closely. “I was gone all weekend.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you girls playing Jessica Fletcher here?”

  Carol waved her hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s just that there’s usually not a lot going on in Mt. Abrams. You have to admit, this is kind of huge.”

  Paula smiled. “Well, let me know if you need any more information. The police want me to stick around, so I’ll probably be here all week.”

  Carol smiled back. “Why, thank you Paula. That’s very good to know.”

  We chatted. T
he dogs sniffed each other’s butts again, and Carol and I said good-bye, and then we continued walking down the hill. Somewhere, on the other side of Rt. 51, was Dunkin’ Donuts. Even Boot knew where we were going and tugged on the leash.

  “Well, if I didn’t already know they were not the happiest of couples,” Carol said, “I’d be a bit shocked at her attitude.”

  “She’s not exactly the grieving widow, is she? So we’re looking for a young girl, Irish, who still lives here or came back?”

  “Yes. And she apparently spent an entire weekend digging a grave for her dead lover.”

  We waited for the walk sign, then crossed Rt.51. Carol went in to Dunkin’ and got us coffee, while Boot and I sat at one of the picnic tables.

  Carol blew on her coffee to cool it, then fished out a Munchkin from her bag and tossed it to Boot, who deftly caught it, swallowed it whole, then sat patiently. She had at least half a dozen more Munchkins in the bag, and I was trying not to drool.

  “Paula was gone all weekend, so our little Irish lass came over, killed him, hid the body until nightfall, moved all the rocks, dug, came over the next night and dug some more, buried him, then put all the rocks back?”

  Carol raised her eyebrows. “Sounds positively exhausting. Maybe it was a little Irish lad? Walt lost interest in sex; he was bad at it in the first place, and he laughed at the idea of a woman.”

  I stared at her. “Oh, my God, Carol. Do you think? Well, crap. You’ve just doubled our suspect pool.”

  She shrugged. “Just a thought. I don’t think it will help to find out what was going on years ago. We need to focus on what was happening on Saturday. That’s our best chance of figuring out who did this.” She took a bite of a powdered sugar Munchkin. “Should I give Boot another?”

  “Sure,” I sighed. “At least one of us should be enjoying them,” I said. “It might be worth our while to find out who was trashing Emma’s garden.”

  “Whoever was doing that was doing it in the middle of the night,” she pointed out. “Most people are asleep.”

  “But those who weren’t probably noticed somebody carrying a ladder around. Unless we’re looking for someone with wings.”

  “Which would also be noticeable,” she grinned.

  “Yep.” I held out my hand. “Give me one of those. A chocolate one. All this thinking made me hungry.”

  She spilled one perfect Munchkin into my hand. Boot whined softly.

  I didn’t even feel guilty.

  The Old Firehouse was a large, drafty building that was abandoned back in the 60s when a shiny, new firehouse was built on Rt. 51. Rather than tear it down, the Historical Society raised enough money for it to be restored and used as a community center. Everyone from the Girl Scouts to the Garden Club used it for meetings and such, and that was where the Founders’ Day committee was holding it’s emergency meeting. I felt terrible for Sharon, huddled with her closest cohorts. The crowd that gathered was angry and confused. Never, in the history of Mt. Abrams, had Founders’ Day been so rudely interrupted.

  Sharon started with the good news. The winners of the House Decorating Contest would be posted on the bulletin board in front of the library, and the prizes could be picked up at Mary Rose Reed’s house, over on Grant Street.

  She got very quiet, and she gripped the podium with both hands as she spoke. “It has been suggested that next weekend we finish the Founders’ Day activities as they had originally been planned. I personally think that would be disrespectful. However, this is for the community, and I will put this to a vote. All in favor of continuing Founders’ Day next week, raise your hand.”

  About half a dozen hands went up.

  “Opposed?”

  Everyone else, at least fifty of us, raised our hands. Sharon looked relieved.

  “Motion defeated.” She took a long breath. “The police are investigating, but there is not a lot of progress being made. Detective Feltz is here tonight, and would like to speak to you.”

  Martin Feltz was tall, thin, and bald. He was dressed in a dark suit and was all business.

  “We are asking for anyone who may have seen Rita Ferris, or anyone else for that matter, up around the Lake Abrams Clubhouse Saturday morning to please get in touch with me at your earliest convenience. Any information you give will be kept in the strictest confidence. We could really use your assistance in this matter. As of right now, we have no clues as to who may have killed Rita Ferris. Thank you.”

  He nodded and stepped back. Sharon came forward and cleared her throat. “We’ll have our next regular meeting two weeks from tonight. Thank you all for coming.”

  She stepped down and practically ran out of the firehouse.

  I stared at Shelly. “That’s it?”

  Shelly looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess there was nothing else to say.” She twisted in her seat to look back where Sharon had left the building. “Very unlike her to run like that. She’s a natural born talker. I wonder what’s up?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, but I think we need to talk to her. Any ideas?”

  Shelly lifted her shoulders, then let them drop. “Mary Rose?”

  I sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  I walked home, took Boot for a quick walk, then sat on the porch and waited. It was Marc’s night with the girls, and he had picked them up before dinner. During the summer, they were usually out until pretty late, so I stared at the lake and thought about the book I was working on. The writer had a great voice, but her plotting was all over the place. She also had about a dozen red herrings, which confused the hell out of me. Almost as much as Rita’s murder was confusing.

  Marc pulled up, and instead of just letting the girls out, he turned off the car and walked them to the house. He kissed them goodnight, then sat beside me.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Good. You?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “About being a jerk the other night.”

  I was quiet. Yes, he had been a jerk. I wasn’t sure I was ready to forgive and forget. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be a jerk either. “Sam and I are good right now,” I told him. “It’s not like there’s nothing going on in in my life, and you can just drop back in.”

  “Are you in love with him?” he asked.

  Good question. “It’s too soon. We’re still figuring things out.”

  Marc ran his fingers though his hair. “I like him. I just don’t think he’s your type.”

  “And what, exactly, is my type?”

  I could see him grin in the darkness. “Charming literary types with pink hair?”

  I laughed. “Not pink yet, but starting to fade, that’s for sure.” I stopped laughing. “If you never stopped loving me, why did you leave?” I had never asked him that before. My heart was in my throat, waiting for him to answer.

  He took his time. “You weren’t …yourself. You’d become angry and sad, and I don’t know, awful. I couldn’t talk to you anymore. You stopped making me laugh. You stopped caring about what I was doing. You stopped caring about me period.”

  That hit me. Hard. “You’re the one who stopped caring,” I blurted. “I was fat and unemployed and had a newborn baby and a teen and you were off living your life as though nothing had changed, and anytime I said anything about it you just closed up and walked away.”

  He exhaled loudly. “I think we both…stopped thinking about the other person. We were too focused on our own pain.”

  We sat quietly for a few more minutes, then he got up, touched my hand, walked out to his car, and then drove away.

  Chapter 8

  Mary Rose Reed and I were not friends. I was not friends with all sorts of people, so it didn’t really bother me all that much. Mary Rose was pretty much involved with every single organization in Mt. Abrams and had been for years. Lynn Fahey was giving her a run for her money as Most Socially Active Mt. Abrams Resident, but Mary Rose still held the lead.


  Mary Rose didn’t like me much, but she did love to gossip, and for that reason I had no problem walking down to her house the next morning to knock on her door. Once she knew I wanted to talk about what happened over the weekend, I knew she’d welcome me with open arms. Besides, I had a perfectly valid excuse to see her. My daughters had won Best Decorated House. Again.

  Her yard, in late summer, was beautiful, not a leaf out of place, no blade of grass leaning too far to the left. She lived below Sommerfield, in the so-called new section, which meant her house had a front and back yard, a driveway that actually held two cars, and plumbing that did not need a sacrifice to the gods once a year to work properly.

  “Ellie, good morning,” she said from behind her tightly closed screen door. “What can I do for you?”

  “I just checked the board, and my girls are due a trophy.”

  She smiled and opened the door. “Of course. Come in. Where are they? I would think they’d want to get it themselves.”

  “Cait took Tessa down to Sandy Hook,” I lied.

  “Well, it’s a beautiful day for it.”

  I followed Mary Rose into her dining room. Mary Rose was a throwback to the fifties. She always dressed in an outfit—tops and bottoms that matched, with coordinating accessories, polished shoes, and when the weather turned cold, panty hose. Today she wore a denim skirt, red checked sleeveless blouse, bright red Keds, with a white bead necklace, and matching clip-on earrings.

  She had the trophies and ribbons carefully arranged on the table. She checked her list, then handed me the biggest, most gaudy trophy of them all.

  I beamed as I took it. Cait and Tessa were going to be thrilled.

  “Thanks.” With anyone else, I would have carefully thought of a gracious segue to Rita, Walt, and the whole situation in general. But with Mary Rose, subtlety was not needed.

  “Who do you think did it, Mary Rose? I’m sure you have a few ideas.”

  She lit up like a Christmas tree, pulled out two chairs from under the dining table, and then motioned for me to sit. “Aggie and Rita were both very active in the Historical Society, you know. I really loved those girls. Such hard workers, you know? Aggie is just devastated. She hasn’t a clue as to who could have done it. Rita had no enemies. Sure, she ran her mouth a bit too much, and maybe some of her jokes fell flat, but she was sweet.”