Ground to a Halt

by Claudia Bishop

  of those precious puppies from that wonderful breeder

  near Covert. I dropped by to see you, Quill, about the

  program for the dog show tomorrow.” She sat down in

  the empty chair directly across from Quill. “And now

  that I’m here, I’m just famished. Whatever you’re having looks just wonderful, Livy. And what was it you were saying about Lila?”

  Quill looked up and nodded to Kathleen Kiddermeister, their head waitress. She waited while Kathleen took Pamela’s order, and then said casually. “I’d just

  asked Olivia about Lila Longstreet’s reasons for leaving

  the conference early, Pam.”

  “Her mother isn’t dead,” Olivia said disapprovingly.

  “Did she mention anything to you about the real reason

  why she left?”

  GROUND TO A HALT

  173

  Pam shrugged. “Except for these annual meetings, I

  hardly knew the woman. There wouldn’t be any reason

  for her to tell me anything different from what she told

  y’all.”

  “But you were the one who identified the body,”

  Quill said. “I assumed that you knew her better than the

  others.”

  Olivia smiled meanly, “Not as well as Robin.”

  “Now, Livy,” Pam said. “Poor Victoria. She has such

  a lot to deal with. But that Robin is no gentleman, if you

  ask me.”

  “Robin Finnegan was having an affair with Lila, too?”

  Quill said.

  “Lila,” Pamela said succinctly, “would have screwed

  a good-lookin’ tree. Not that Robin’s all that good looking. And after the scandal, what nice woman would want to have anything to do with him anyway? Well, I

  take that back. Priscilla was interested.” She smiled the

  way that people do when they want you to know alternate lifestyle choices don’t bother them.

  “Good grief,” Quill said. “Lila sure . . .” She faltered

  to a stop.

  “Got around?” Olivia said dryly. “That she did.”

  “And the scandal?” Quill prompted.

  Kathleen set a plate of Eggs Quilliam in front of

  Pamela, who purred like one of her kittens. “Will you

  just look at this? Now, what’s all in it?”

  “Spinach, hollandaise, Smithfield ham, eggs poached

  in a seasoned broth. And we bake our own scone-muffins.

  That was,” she added in a burst of inspiration, “quite a

  scandal Robin created, wasn’t it?”

  174

  Claudia Bishop

  “Did it make the papers here? It made all the papers

  in Karnack Corners.” Pamela took a large bite of her

  eggs. “Darlin’, this is just fantastic.”

  “Why do you suppose he did it?” If Pamela didn’t

  give her a direct answer this time, Quill thought, she’d

  take the eggs and dump them on Pamela’s fuzzy head.

  “All those toys,” Olivia said disapprovingly. “That’s

  why he did it. That house was costing him a bundle.

  Plus the cars. Plus the weekend trips to Costa Brava.”

  “And the money came from . . .” Quill prompted.

  “Why, Maxwell Kittleburger, of course.” Despite her

  casual attire, Pamela hadn’t neglected her makeup. She

  fluttered heavily mascaraed lashes. “You did know that

  both Victoria and Robin were partners in the firm that

  represents Pet Pro.” She leaned across the table, breathing egg and spinach into Quill’s face. “Well, when Robin was caught with his hand in the Kittleburger

  kitty, the firm fired him, of course, and then they were

  going to fire Victoria, too. But they made some kind of

  deal with Max, and Victoria ended up representing him

  practically for free, if what Lila said was true.” She

  gulped some orange juice and smacked her lips. “Anyhow, the firm demoted Victoria, didn’t press charges against Robin, and Victoria’s working for pennies. Just

  pennies. So, naturally, that big old house is gone, the

  fancy cars are gone, and the weekend trips are to Wal-

  Mart instead of Bermuda. Ha ha.” Pamela shook her

  head sorrowfully and finished off her egg in two large

  bites.

  “Who,” Quill said carefully, “actually discovered

  Robin’s umm . . .”

  “Defalcations?” said a voice in her ear.

  GROUND TO A HALT

  175

  Pamela looked up, momentarily discomfited. “You

  shouldn’t creep up on people like that, Robin.”

  Quill rose from her chair, embarrassed. “Mr. Finnegan.

  I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

  There were heavy shadows under his eyes. Quill remembered quite clearly that he had worn a grubby blue shirt and striped tie the day before. Today he was dressed

  in a white shirt with a solid red tie. This shirt didn’t look

  clean, either. He was in need of both a haircut and, Quill

  noted with slight distaste, a good shampoo.

  “Did you come in for breakfast?” she asked. “If

  you’d like to sit down, I’ll be happy to see what the

  kitchen can come up with. It’s after ten thirty, so the

  kitchen’s closed down, but we have coffee and scones.”

  “I’ll get my breakfast in the bar, thanks.” He rubbed his

  hand across his chin. “Actually, they sent me to get you.”

  “They?”

  He grinned a little maliciously. “There’s a small riot

  going on in the conference room. That little receptionist?”

  “Dina,” Quill said. “And she’s not a little anything.

  She’s a doctoral candidate at Cornell. And,” she added

  doubtfully, “there can’t be a riot going on in the conference room.”

  “Right. Well, you’d better go and see, hadn’t you?”

  Quill proceeded down the hall to the conference

  room at a slightly faster pace than usual. As she neared

  the open door, she could hear the rise and fall of the

  mayor’s voice, interrupted by shouts of “you betcha!”

  and “hang ’em high!”

  Robin was right. There was a small riot in her conference room. And the mayor seemed to be inciting it.

  Quill would have lost a large lump of cash if anyone

  176

  Claudia Bishop

  had bet her that Elmer Henry would be at the head of a

  vigilante committee in Hemlock Falls.

  “I think we should run that sneaky son of a gun right

  out of this town,” Elmer shouted.

  “Who are we planning on running out of town?”

  Quill walked into the conference room with her head

  up, her arms swinging, and her stride confident. A recent management class she’d taken from the Cornell University Extension had called this the “power pose,”

  and guaranteed its success in moments of management

  crisis. Quill figured it couldn’t hurt to try it on those

  members of the Chamber of Commerce who currently

  sat at the conference table ready to smack somebody up

  the side of the head. There were four: Esther West, the

  mayor, Harland Peterson, and Carol Ann Spinoza. Dina

  sat at the far end of the table, in an interested posture.

  Quill sat down next to Dina. “And why are we going to

  run this person off?”

  “It’s because of Harvey,” Harland Peterson said.

  “When Esther opened up her shop this morning, that

  Corrine came run
ning in to tell her Harve’d emptied his

  desk out overnight and left two weeks severance pay on

  her desk.”

  “Not only that, Harvey left a call at Marge’s office

  that he wanted her to put his house up for sale,” Esther

  said. Her cheeks were pink with indignation, and her

  mild brown eyes glittered fiercely.

  “And I say, we should run the guy out of town that

  run Harvey out of town.” Elmer’s face was pink with

  fury. “I can’t b’lieve this Rudy guy. This jerk.” He

  pounded his fist on the table. “What’d Harvey ever do to

  him? I say we find this guy and give him what for!”

  GROUND TO A HALT

  177

  “Yeah!” Esther shouted.

  “Go to it,” Harland said.

  “This is your fault, Quill,” Carol Ann said in her

  sticky sweet voice. “I am shocked out of my mind at the

  caliber of guests you have here these days.”

  Harland got to his feet. He was a big man, solidly

  built. The conference table was thirty feet long and

  solid mahogany, and it shifted as he leaned on it. “So

  where is the bum?”

  Dina raised her hand and waved it in the air. “He’s

  checked out.”

  “Checked out?” Elmer roared. “Well, where’d the

  son of a bee go?”

  “You’re kidding,” Quill said in dismay. There went

  her chances of a cozy, drink-laden interview with their

  chief suspect.

  “He went home, I expect,” Dina said. “He lives in

  Syracuse. Right near his rendering plant. I can give you

  the address, if you want.”

  “Let’s drive over there and give him what for!”

  Elmer shouted.

  “Dina,” Quill said. “For Pete’s sake.”

  “Well, why shouldn’t I give them Mr. Baranga’s address? I think it’s really rotten that he ran poor Mr.

  Bozzel out of town.”

  “This is so your fault, Quill.” Carol Ann sat back

  with her hands folded primly over the purse in her lap.

  “Guys,” Quill ran her hands through her hair. “Just

  what are you planning on doing when you catch up with

  Mr. Baranga?”

  “Punch his lights out,” Carol Ann said promptly. She

  stared at the mayor. “You can take him.”

  178

  Claudia Bishop

  Harland cracked his knuckles. “I have to say she’s

  right.” (People very rarely referred to Carol Ann by

  name.) “The guy could use a little attitude readjustment.”

  “I think that’s a very bad idea,” Quill said firmly.

  “For one thing, are you absolutely sure that Harvey’s

  left town because of this?”

  “That Corrine said Harvey told her it was worth her

  life to tell Rudy Baranga where he’d gone,” Esther said

  dramatically. “Who else could it be?”

  “But, why?” Quill said, bewildered. “It just doesn’t

  make sense.” She rubbed her forehead. Harvey must

  have seen something that would tie Rudy to the murder. That was the only possible explanation for Harvey’s precipitate behavior. And what was it that had caused Rudy to go charging over there? It was absurd

  to think it might be the logo for Mousee Morsels. Rudy

  had a lot of explaining to do. To the police, if not to her

  and Meg. “Dina, do you remember exactly what was in

  the note attached to that art board Harvey left for Mr.

  Kittleburger?”

  Dina closed her eyes. “ ‘Dear Mr. Kittleburger, Attached please find a great new idea for Pet Pro. If you don’t care for this, give me a call and we can discuss

  something that will be more to your advantage.’ ”

  The first thing that occurred to Quill was blackmail.

  The second was that it was ridiculous to suspect Harvey

  of any such thing. The third was that it would be just

  like Harvey to get himself embroiled in a mess where

  Kittleburger’s goon Rudy would think it was a threat to

  blackmail him.

  “Somebody needs to talk to Harvey and find out

  what really went on,” Quill said firmly. “And I think you

  GROUND TO A HALT

  179

  guys should think twice about accosting Mr. Baranga.

  It’s my impression that he’s a dangerous man.”

  “You and Meg figure out who killed those two outsiders, yet?” Elmer demanded.

  “Not yet,” Quill said cautiously.

  “You think this Rudy might be a murderer?”

  Quill, loath to implicate anyone in murder, no matter

  how badly they may have scared Hemlock Falls’ best

  (and only) advertising executive, shook her head, but in

  a very meaningful way.

  “What I got to say is this,” Elmer said nervously.

  “This Baranga might be the reason Harvey left town,

  and he might not. Maybe we need a little bit more information before we go raring off to Syracuse half cocked.”

  “If Rudy Baranga ran over that Lila Longstreet’s

  head and stuck Mr. Kittleburger full of some horrible

  drug,” Esther said, “you bet we need a little bit more

  information.”

  “We don’t know that he did do those things, Esther,” Quill said patiently. “But Meg and I intend to find out.”

  “So the two of you are going to Syracuse and find out

  what’s what with this character?” the mayor said. “I’m

  proud of you, Quill. The whole Chamber thanks you.

  You fix this,” he hesitated, and then beamed, “we just

  might give you two a medal.”

  Quill stood up. “I am going to find my sister.”

  Meg was in the kitchen with Jerry.

  “Rudy Baranga’s connected?” Jerry Grimsby said.

  180

  Claudia Bishop

  “Are you asking us or telling us?” Meg slammed a

  leg of lamb onto the prep table and began to butterfly it.

  “If nothing else, he is, or rather was, the muscle for

  Maxwell Kittleburger,” Quill said. “And he’s the only

  viable suspect we have at this point. The only person

  without a reasonable alibi.”

  “A seemingly reasonable alibi,” Meg reminded her.

  Jerry shoved his hand through his thick hair and

  scratched his head. He was a big, bluff, comfortable-

  looking man with a hearty face and a warmhearted

  smile. He was also the only master chef whose opinion

  Meg respected, with the possible exception of the late

  Banion O’Flaherty. “From what you two have told me,

  he’s not somebody to screw around with. You really

  think you want to mix it up with this guy?” He started

  forward. “Hey! Meg. You’re not close enough to the

  bone, there.”

  “Butt out,” Meg said.

  “Really, kiddo. You should let me do this.”

  Meg’s head was lowered in concentration. She

  didn’t raise it, but rolled her eyes up so that she was

  glaring at Jerry like the possessed little kid in The Exorcist. At this juncture, Quill would have beaten a prudent retreat. Jerry merely said amiably, “Fine. No one’s going to notice that you’ve left half the usable meat on

  the bone.”

  “That’s right, Jer.”

  “On the other hand, you and I will know.” He gently

  withdrew the boning knife from Meg’s grasp. Meg gave


  a great sigh of exasperation and stepped back. Jerry

  flipped the leg of lamb over and began to carve with an

  elegant turn of his wrist.

  GROUND TO A HALT

  181

  “Fine. Go ahead. I’d just like to know how you’re going to stuff the thing when it’s three feet thick. And I’d also like to know how I’m going to make stock with a

  bone that’s totally denuded of meat.”

  “Watch me.”

  “I am watching you.”

  Quill suppressed a laugh. Jerry winked at her. Then

  he and Meg exchanged sappy grins. Quill shifted on the

  kitchen stool and cleared her throat. She felt funny. She

  felt, she suddenly realized, like a fifth wheel. The

  kitchen was in full swing. She was clearly in the way.

  The lunch prep was even more chaotic than usual.

  News of Maxwell Kittleburger’s murder had spread

  rapidly, and they were fully booked with gawkers and

  sensation seekers. Meg had called Jerry for backup.

  Which was a good thing. As long as Meg kept her mind

  on the job. “So I suppose,” Quill said rather loudly,

  “that I should try and find Harvey to discover just what

  did go on in his office Wednesday morning. Right now,

  we don’t have enough information to know what we’re

  looking for when we go see Rudy. And why,” she muttered to herself, since Meg and Jerry obviously weren’t listening to her, “did Simon Provost let him leave town

  anyway?”

  “So are you going to Syracuse, sis?” Meg asked.

  “Maybe. First, I’m going to see if I can track down

  Harvey.”

  “And you’re going to talk to Dangerous Devon about

  hacking into Lila’s financial records.”

  “Right,” Quill said.

  Jerry looked from one to the other. “Is this stuff you

  two are on to legal?”

  182

  Claudia Bishop

  “Yes,” Meg said firmly. She scrabbled busily in her

  apron pocket. “I copied down her AmEx credit card

  number. Here you go.”

  “Are you sure . . . ?” Jerry began.

  “Jer. Shut up and carve.” She nudged him with her

  shoulder. She looked very small next to him. He

  wrapped one long arm around her and kissed the top of

  her head. “Did you track down that lost pork shipment,

  by the way? I could swear that it was in the big freezer

  in back. I’ll tell you what, Meg. If you want to play detective, you should check that out. Leave this other stuff to the cops.”