The Quiche and the Dead

by Kirsten Weiss

  Stopping in front of a polished wood door, he fished a key ring from his pocket.

  “Do you have keys to all the rooms in the library?” Charlene asked.

  He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “No, only this one. It belongs to the board. Antheia sometimes used it as her office.”

  Charlene arched a brow. “Did she now?”

  “She did a lot of work for the board,” he said, his voice rising.

  “We get it,” I said. “She was the power behind the throne.” The dead power. I sidled past him into the small room. A desk. Two chairs on one side, an executive chair on the other. And rows of metal cabinets. I opened one and found a stack of library hoodies. I sniffed. Pie Town’s were better quality.

  “Those are for our donors,” Mark said.

  I dropped the hoodie back on its stack.

  “The files you’re looking for are in here.” He rolled open the drawer of a metal filing cabinet and flipped through the manila folders.

  “Decided to be helpful now, have you?” Charlene said.

  “The quicker this is over, the quicker I can get rid of the two of you.” He slapped a file on the desk.

  Picking it up, I leafed through it.

  “Well?” Charlene asked.

  “These financial statements are more complicated than Pie Town’s,” I said. “It’s going to take time.”

  “Let’s photocopy them,” Charlene said, “and we can look them over at home.”

  “Where’s the photocopy machine?” I asked Mark.

  “First floor,” a masculine voice said from behind me.

  I flinched, the papers in the folder rustling to the carpeted floor. In the doorway stood the mayor, wearing a San Nicholas Library zip-up hoodie and holding a gun.

  Chapter 25

  My world telescoped to the barrel of the gun. “Mr. Mayor?” My voice cracked.

  Mayor Jack Sharp waggled the gun. “I hoped I wouldn’t find you down here, Val. But you couldn’t shut up about the library bond.”

  I hugged the empty folder to my chest. This was not happening. NOT happening.

  “I knew it,” Charlene said, hoarse. “I knew it was a conspiracy.”

  “Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.” Sharp winced. “Jeez, Charlene, are you wearing that cat again?”

  Mark’s hands shot into the air. “Mayor Sharp! This is a misunderstanding.”

  “Shut up.”

  I swallowed. “So it’s true, you killed them all. Why Antheia? Was she having second thoughts about stealing the bond money?”

  “Her husband’s detective was starting to dig into her finances,” the mayor said. “Roy was determined to get that alimony.”

  “And the detective would have figured out that there was no legitimate source for the money she was spending on properties,” I said. “You two embezzled from the bond.”

  “Don’t be so crude,” the mayor said. “Every penny of that money went to the contractors. And then they gave Antheia and me hefty kickbacks.” He jingled a set of keys in his free hand. “The library is empty aside from the librarian, and he won’t bother us. I’ve promised him I’d lock up after you. Shall we?” He nodded toward the door.

  Charlene pressed a hand to her heart. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  Beneath the folder I gripped, my stomach had turned to marble, but my mind tumbled, an avalanche of useless thoughts. Every cell in my body screamed for me not to go with him, but I was no ninja. I wasn’t skilled in hand-to-hand combat. And the mayor was not conveniently positioned beneath a bookcase I could knock over to flatten him with.

  The mayor stood aside.

  Charlene and I passed out the door, our footsteps soft on the beige carpet. The library was empty. We were alone.

  “Stop,” he said.

  We swayed to a halt.

  “You too, Mark,” he said.

  “Me?” He paled. “But I’m not involved in this.”

  “You are now, son. Move.” He stuck the gun in the pocket of his hoodie, keeping it trained on us.

  “Heidi was right,” Mark said, looking at me. “I should have stayed away from you.”

  I gaped at him. “That’s what you’re worried about? Placing blame? Now?” I shook my head, trying to rattle my brain into action. There had to be a way out of here. There were three of us and only one of the mayor. Unfortunately, one of my fellow kidnapees had lapsed into a fit of self-absorption and the other was even less of a ninja than I.

  The mayor marched us outside, through the dark and deserted parking lot and to the paved path wrapping along the bay. The boats floated, obscured by the nighttime fog, their lights forming disembodied nimbuses of yellow and red and blue. On the opposite side of the street, restaurant windows filled with diners looked out over the bay. Hope flared in my chest. People walked here at night to admire the water. He’d made a mistake bringing us here.

  “So we’re clear,” he said, “if you try anything, I’ll shoot Mark first—”

  “Fine by me,” Charlene said.

  Mark went white.

  “—and any innocent pedestrians second.”

  “That will put a dent in your electability.” My heart banged against my rib cage. Jack must have figured Mark would be the first person to run and save his own skin, pedestrians be damned. I wanted to think the mayor was wrong, but the threat seemed to have cowed my ex.

  “I think we’re beyond that,” the mayor said, “don’t you?”

  We passed a woman pushing a stroller, mother and child bundled up against the night air. The mayor smiled and nodded at her.

  Our wannabe murderer glanced toward the water. “Turn onto the pier.”

  I followed orders, my footsteps dragging, echoing on the dock. Boats, covered in blue tarps for the night, bumped against the wooden pilings. A row of high lamps lit the pier, a runway leading to nowhere.

  “What’s the plan, Jack?” I asked.

  “That will be Mayor Sharp, if you don’t mind. Your Mark’s been smuggling environmentally incorrect plumbing into San Nicholas, and you’ve been helping him.”

  Mark yelped.

  “Don’t try to deny it,” Jack said. “I’ve got friends in the construction business. They know your supplier.”

  “The friends who paid you off to get them those overpriced library construction contracts?” Charlene asked tartly.

  The mayor ignored her. “I’m afraid there’s going to be a falling out among thieves. Or smugglers, as the case may be.”

  “No one’s going to believe we killed each other over a few toilets,” I said.

  “My nephew’s on the police force. He’ll believe what I tell him.”

  “Detective Shaw?” Charlene asked. “So that’s how you’ve been covering everything up. Nepotism!”

  “Not entirely. My nephew isn’t particularly imaginative, and he’s eager to please. So you see, Mark, your participation is integral to the plot of tonight’s drama.”

  Mark groaned. “I should have listened to Heidi.”

  “Did Heidi tell you not to smuggle toilets?” Charlene asked.

  “She doesn’t know,” he said. “Everything was fine until you two decided to start playing detective.”

  Blood thundered in my ears. There had to be something I could do, some way to escape. But the pier was distressingly neat, devoid of any handy wrenches or giant fishing hooks I could swing at Sharp. I could dive into the water, between the boats, but that would leave Charlene and Frederick and Mark at risk. If anyone shot Mark, I wanted it to be me.

  The mayor drew the gun from his pocket. Its dark metal gleamed, menacing.

  “Why did you kill the others?” I asked, stalling for time, for an idea, for an escape.

  “Antheia’s husband knew what was going on. Hiring the detective was a way to shake her up. After I killed her, Roy tried to blackmail me.”

  “What about Joe and Frank?” I asked.

  “Frank started this little adventure. He invited me to his home, bec
ause he had questions about the bond. He figured I didn’t know about it. He took me upstairs, where he’d stored some of his files. Somehow, he’d obtained copies of contracts and some, shall we say, incriminating e-mails. I saw the opportunity and took it. You’d be surprised how easy it is to kill someone. So when Joe started sniffing around, it made sense to do it again.”

  My legs shook. “By mixing a castor bean in with his coffee beans?”

  “That was easy too,” he said. “Joe made me coffee in his kitchen, asking the same questions you’ve been asking. I knew, of course, that he and Frank had been thick as thieves, and exactly what he was up to. After he made the coffee, he left the kitchen for a moment, and I slipped the castor bean into the bag of coffee beans.”

  “That doesn’t sound very spur of the moment,” I said.

  The mayor’s brows rose. “Of course it wasn’t. I suspected Joe might ask questions after Frank’s death, so I started thinking about what I’d do if he came to me.”

  My palms grew slick, and I rubbed them on the front of my jeans. “But they found a bag of castor beans in his bathroom. Did you plant them?”

  “After our chat, I told him I needed to use the bathroom. I took the opportunity to shove the castor beans beneath the bathroom sink, way in the back, where I knew he wouldn’t look.”

  “Still, it was a big risk,” I said. “And so was breaking in to Joe’s house after he died.” Where the fricasseed hell was everybody tonight? There had to be a fisherman or a dive class or a retiree walking his dog somewhere.

  “I kind of enjoyed playing the villain,” he mused.

  “You are the villain,” Charlene said.

  “You don’t need to do this,” I said.

  He sneered. “Next, you’ll tell me I won’t get away with it.”

  “How can you?” I asked. “There are too many corpses. Even Shaw will have to see—”

  “Hello, did someone say my name?” Twin flashlight beams hit the mayor and me in the face.

  Shaw and a uniformed Officer Carmichael clambered over the side of a boat and ambled toward us.

  “Mr. Mayor,” Shaw said. “We got a tip about some environmental scofflaws smuggling illegal plumbing. What are you doing out”—his gaze dropped to the gun, and his face slackened—“here?”

  Gordon’s hand went to his gun.

  “Don’t try it, Officer,” Jack’s voice whip-cracked. “You’re not that fast a draw, and I’ve got plenty of innocent targets.” The mayor aimed the gun at the person closest to him: me.

  A whimper escaped Charlene’s throat.

  Sharp licked his lips. “Now take your gun out, slowly, and kick it over to me.”

  Gordon laid the gun on the dock, his expression grim. With his booted foot, he slid the weapon toward the mayor.

  “Uncle Jack, what’s going on?” Shaw asked.

  “Are you making a citizen’s arrest, Mr. Mayor?” Gordon asked, eyes hard and glittering.

  “Nice try, Officer.” He jerked his chin at Shaw. “Teddy, get over here.”

  Teddy? Teddy Shaw? My brain was trying to escape into not-important-land, but I needed to focus. Shaw and Carmichael were close, only a few feet away, but the mayor’s gun was aimed at my chest.

  Shaw didn’t budge. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why are you pointing a gun at Miss Harris?”

  The mayor’s nostrils flared. “Get. Over. Here.”

  “Put the gun down,” Shaw said, “and we’ll talk.”

  “You really are stupid,” the mayor snarled. He jerked the gun toward his nephew.

  Carmichael shoved Shaw to the side. A shot thundered. Carmichael shouted, and spun awkwardly.

  Charlene shrieked.

  Hissing, Frederick rose on Charlene’s shoulders, his white fur bristling. The cat launched itself at the mayor’s head.

  Mayor Sharp swore, struggled to peel the yowling animal free. His gun clattered to the dock.

  I dove for the gun, fumbled, knocked it over the side of the pier. It splashed into the black water.

  Cursing, Officer Carmichael rolled to his feet. He staggered to the mayor.

  Sharp wrenched the cat off and hurled it onto a boat. Frederick thudded against a wall. Limp, the cat slid to the deck.

  “Frederiiiiiiiick,” Charlene wailed.

  Blood streaming down one arm, Officer Carmichael grabbed the mayor and spun him to the ground. He wrenched one of the mayor’s muscular arms back and slapped a cuff on. “Give me your other arm.”

  “Get off me,” the mayor shouted. “I’m the mayor!”

  “Give me your other arm!”

  “You work for me! Ow. OW!” The mayor gave him the other arm.

  Carmichael cuffed him.

  Detective Shaw limped to us, wide-eyed. “What’s going on?”

  “Frederick,” Charlene sobbed.

  Mark climbed onto the boat and reverently picked up the cat. “The white leopard,” he whispered. “Heidi was right about everything. The cat’s breathing.”

  “Give him to me.” Charlene held out her hands, sobbing. Carefully, he lowered Frederick over the side of the boat, and Charlene cradled him in her arms.

  Was he badly hurt? Dead? It was hard to tell, since comatose was Frederick’s go-to move. But I didn’t see any blood, and his ribs rose and fell. “He looks okay,” I said, tentative.

  Charlene ran her hands over him, and Frederick purred. His blue eyes opened. He yawned, shook his head.

  “I think he’s all right,” Mark said.

  “The narcolepsy must have saved him,” Charlene said. “He must have gone limp right before he hit the wall. Frederick was like a drunk in a car crash. He was so relaxed, he didn’t get hurt.”

  I sat against a piling, the collapse of adrenaline leaving me weak.

  Carmichael hauled Mayor Sharp to his feet. “Would someone tell me why the mayor was trying to kill us all?”

  I sucked in a breath, pointing at his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s a graze,” Carmichael said. “If he’d hit me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So what the hell’s going on?”

  “A conspiracy at the library board,” Charlene said. “Murder, theft, blackmail! The feds are going to be in on this take down, mark my words.”

  Carmichael looked to me.

  I cleared my throat. “What she said.”

  Chapter 26

  Charlene sat at the picnic table, her newspaper fluttering in the breeze. White cat hair flecked her merlot-colored tunic and black leggings. Coiled around a toy mouse, Frederick lay on the table.

  Hefting a box from the Jeep, I carried it into my new tiny house and set my dishes on the kitchenette counter. The wood floors gleamed. An empty bookshelf awaited my books.

  My tiny house.

  My rental tiny house.

  I walked outside and stretched, massaging my lower back. The air smelled sweet, of wild grasses. In the distance, ocean and sky met, framed by fluffy, white clouds at the top and a line of surf at the bottom. Birds chirped, invisible, in the trees.

  I glanced at the converted shipping container. Its wide, plate glass windows reflected my form. My heart filled. I’d wake up to this view every morning.

  “Is that a new cat toy?” I asked.

  She lowered the paper. “What? The mouse? Your ex left that little offering on my doorstep this morning, the weirdo. But Frederick likes it.”

  “How can you tell?”

  She ignored me. “The mayor’s still front page news. Now they’re looking into other city contracts.”

  “He’s not the only one on the town council.” I got another box from the Jeep. “And there’s a city manager. How did the mayor get away with all those kickbacks?”

  “Oh, he had help from other folks, like Antheia, who got greedy. Mark my words, they’ll find other crooks as they turn over more rocks. I’m sure that bloodsucking librarian is up to his fangs in this.”

  “Um, we did agree he’s not a vampire, didn’t we?”
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  “Hello! Sunlight! Of course he’s not a real vampire.”

  As long as we were clear.

  “I hear the SEC and the FBI are investigating,” she said.

  “Investigating the librarian?”

  “Investigating the whole damn town, near as I can tell.”

  I put the box beside Frederick on the picnic table. Now that it was all over, I didn’t care much about the FBI or the SEC. We’d been completely cleared of Joe’s death, and Charlene had returned Frank’s casebook to Joy. I’m not sure what she told her, and I didn’t ask.

  “All I care about is that Pie Town is saved,” I said. Business was booming. Petronella had moved into her management role, and that gave me more time for strategy, accounting, and relaxing.

  “Too bad that weasel Shaw got all the credit for the takedown. He came out of this looking like a hero, putting his own uncle away.”

  Frederick yawned.

  I scratched behind his ears. “But Carmichael’s a detective now. They won’t stick him with rousting gypsy caravans and sorting out surfer disputes.”

  “It was about time they promoted him. Too bad it took him getting injured in the line of duty.”

  “Did you see how he shoved Shaw out of the way? He risked his life to save Shaw’s, and I don’t think they care much for each other.”

  “Mm.” Charlene turned the page. “Carmichael is one of a kind. Single too.”

  I jammed my hands in the pockets of my Pie Town hoodie.

  “Of course he’s nothing like your ex,” Charlene said. “So I can see why you wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

  “It’s a moot point. He hasn’t asked me out.” I’d come clean to him about the break-in, and our encounter with the mayor cloaked in a ski mask. No charges were pending, but Carmichael had been clearly annoyed.

  “I don’t see why he won’t. You’re not a suspect anymore.”

  “Charlene—”

  “And it’s the twenty-first century. You should ask him. Or take him up on the dive lessons. Of course, in my day, a lady never asked a man out. But at least we knew how to encourage them to ask us out.”

  “Fascinating.” Grabbing the box, I took it into the house and laid it beside the built-in desk. My own desk. I had my own shower now too. What was I going to do with my gym membership?