“Now Henry, you’re letting your imagination run away with you,” Agatha chided shyly.
“No, Agatha, I think he’s right. You do look like Myrna Loy.”
We had to wait again. While Agatha and my dad talked to calm each other, I let my mind wander. As it is wont to do, my thought processes soon shifted into the realm of ANALYTICO. I began to retrieve files and restore the state I was in the last time I’d been using the engine. This is primarily a memory operation though I try to keep it short by only storing and retrieving what can’t be recalculated and establishing shortcuts around data that can be retrieved later. The world around me became a barely conscious blur as the engine took control.
I heard music begin to play outside as the pianist warmed up. I heard Tara Lee and my mother-in-law arrive. They were the wedding coordinators.
Alert! the engine in my brain screamed. Something was wrong. Either I or someone near and dear to me was in eminent danger.
Calm, my conscious mind responded. Continue to load and reconstruct state.
Tara Lee came to speak with me. I have no idea what she said. I followed her to the front doors of the recreation center.
State restored.
I had identified two murders based on Agatha’s books. Both also seemed to involve the Rankles and Edwards Construction Company. Who’s to say there wouldn’t be more? That would depend on the other titles in Agatha’s library. Process titles.
The doors opened and I started walking down the aisle. There were folding chairs set up to either side of the cement aisle. At the end of the aisle was a gazebo decked with garlands and flowers thanks to the gardening club. The gazebo was backed by a panoramic view of the White Water River and the falls in the distance. On the gazebo stood Lawrence and Alex with the minister who wore a full beard hiding most of his face.
This was taking too long. I needed to make my query more specific. We’re at a wedding. Process titles for wedding themes. Marriage Can Be Murder by C. J. Masterson. That was quick. In this book a murder takes place at an outdoor wedding. Review plot.
I arrived at the gazebo, stood to the far left, and turned. Alex smiled across at me. He was standing next to Lawrence who looked scared stiff. They were both wearing black tuxedos with tails, just like my father. The wedding march began to play.
Reviewing plot. The bride and bridesmaids dressed to look like Grace Kelly and Myrna Loy. White Rolls and chauffeur in black to the outdoor venue. Groom, best man, and father of the bride all dressed in black tuxedo and tails. Good Lord, the wedding from the book was here, at Hope Falls Park, in this gazebo.
Agatha walked down the aisle on my father’s arm. She looked beautiful and he looked handsome and proud. Dad delivered her to Lawrence and took a seat. I thought it was his best public appearance ever. The ceremony began.
The wedding is based on the book. But how? Never mind. How was the murder performed? At the ceremony. But how?
The bride and groom had exchanged their words and the minister was pouring a glass of wine into a crystal goblet. The minister held the goblet up and blessed its contents. He handed the goblet to Lawrence who began to take a sip.
The goblet of wine they drank from was poisoned!
“I’ll take that, if you don’t mind,” I said, reaching out my hand to snatch the wineglass from Lawrence’s grasp before he could take a sip.
Chapter 13
I held the poisoned goblet of wine behind my back during the remainder of the ceremony. Of course, the ceremony had to revamp itself fairly quickly to adapt to the lack of a wine goblet. Fortunately, there were no recriminations or accusations; the minister deftly switched the ceremony to exclude the wine tribute though I felt his eyes upon me more than I wanted. In an odd way, I found it refreshing to listen to the rest of the ceremony since the book had never made it that far.
Before walking back up the aisle, I stepped back to a serving table to retrieve the carafe from which the wine had been served. The minister watched with curiosity and surprise as I grabbed the carafe. I looked up to him and smiled, then rejoined Alex to walk arm in arm with him back up the aisle. The moment I stepped back through the front doors of the clubhouse my actions on the gazebo were called into question.
“Chloe, what got into you up there?” Agatha asked.
I found it sweet that her reaction seemed to be motivated more by concern for me than recognition that I’d nearly ruined her wedding vows. Lawrence stood directly behind his new wife, concern for me written across his face.
“I need to see the Chief right away,” I insisted.
“We’ll get him for you. Now, why don’t you give me that,” Alex replied, trying to take the carafe and goblet away from me.
I refused to let them go. I was frustrated that I couldn’t easily explain my actions. After all, how do you tell a newlywed couple that they were almost murdered on the altar? How do you explain to your husband that you’d just made significant progress on a serial killer case? And all of it was dependent upon me being right; right about the link between the murders and right about the poison in the goblet.
“Boston!” I heard the Chief call. “What was all of that about the goblet of wine?”
“Chief!” I exclaimed. “You need to take this wine and have it analyzed.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been poisoned.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“No, I’m not joking. I’m also sorry to have to tell you that we have a serial killer on our hands.”
“Boston, are you feeling all right?” the Chief asked.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little shaky. Do you mind if I sit down?”
Alex retrieved a folding chair from a cart in the back of the room. He set it up for me just in time. My wobbly legs held me in place long enough for the chair to appear but then they dropped me in place.
“Chloe!” Agatha exclaimed.
She was by my side in a second. At last I felt that I could explain.
“The book Murder Most Shocking by C. J. Masterson included a scene in which a troublemaker was murdered by dropping a toaster into his bath. The same occurred to Cyrus Knox, a disgruntled foreman for Rankles and Edwards. Then, in Marriage Can Be Murder, the bride and groom are murdered during the wedding ceremony by poisoned wine.”
“Oh my,” Agatha replied.
“Agatha, how is it possible that the book matches your wedding so perfectly?” I asked.
“But Chloe, of course they match. When I wrote the wedding scene in the book I was picturing the perfect wedding. I simply envisioned the same wedding when I worked with Tara Lee and Lawrence to prepare it. I always knew I would be married at the gazebo. Lawrence must have heard me talking about the white Rolls.”
“So, based on these book plots, you think that this wine is poisoned?” the Chief asked.
“I’m pretty sure, Chief.”
“That’s good enough for me. I’ll have Bryce take it down to the lab for analysis.”
“But Chief, there’s more,” I explained. “In the book the murderer was at the wedding. He was a last-minute replacement.”
“The minister!” Lawrence exclaimed. “He was a last-minute replacement.”
“And the minister was wearing a full beard covering most of his face,” I pointed out.
“He said that it was part of his religious practice to wear the beard.”
“Or could it be that he was trying not to be recognized?”
“And where is this minister?” the Chief wanted to know.
“Gone, I would guess,” I responded.
“And what happened to the real minister?” the Chief added.
“Reverend McDonald,” Agatha gasped.
“Mrs. Graves, I mean, Mrs. Jackman, I need for you to give me the address of the church where I can find Reverend McDonald so I can see if he’s alright.”
The Chief and Agatha stepped away, leaving me with the carafe and the goblet. Alex finally took them away from me, probably so I wou
ldn’t drop them, and set them on the floor beside my chair. He then took a knee in front of me to look me in the eye.
“So, how are you doing, champ?” he asked.
“Alex, sometimes I just wish I could be normal, but then I only realize that I couldn’t be normal now even if I was given the chance. There’s just too much at stake.”
I started to cry. Alex wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. As Alex held me I allowed my mind to wander. Soon I was speaking my thoughts out loud. They were the last vestiges of my ANALYTICO engine ticking down and storing away its current state.
“Agatha based her wedding on the wedding in her book. The murderer used this opportunity to pose as the minister, just like in the book, and introduce poisoned wine into the ceremony. The minister will be found dead in his office, having been strangled to death with the telephone cord ripped from his own phone. Somehow this all ties in with the new Rankles and Edwards construction project. But what is the connection between Agatha and Rankles and Edwards?”
Chapter 14
Alex drove me to the police station where I handed over the cold murder case file labeled Knox, Cyrus J. to the Chief. The Chief took the file with him as he headed to the church to look in on Reverend McDonald. I sat at my desk and waited. I knew that I was missing the wedding reception, but I had to know what the Chief and the others discovered as soon as they discovered it.
“Alex, would you mind going to the reception and extending my apologies for not being there?” I asked.
“No, I suppose one of us should be there. I mean, I don’t mind if you’ll be alright here.”
“I’ll be fine. For the time being, I just need to be where the action is.”
The look Alex returned showed that he most likely understood. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and was gone.
The analysis of the wine came back quickly. Bryce brought me the results. Instead of being laced with a deadly poison, the wine had been spiked with a powerful laxative. When the Chief called in to report that Reverend McDonald had been strangled to death in his office, with a telephone cord, the whole station erupted with activity.
We had a crazed serial murderer on our hands. It was the nightmare that every police department hoped to avoid.
Bryce stopped by my desk to let me know that the Chief had called to have him help me write up my statement. I actually relished the opportunity to perform this tedious task since I thought it might give me an opportunity to organize my scattered thoughts on the three murders. We went to Bryce’s desk to use his computer. I switched positions with him after the first frustrating fifteen minutes spent trying to dictate my statement. I ended up doing the rest of the typing since I’m a much better typist than Bryce. Eventually, Bryce wandered away from his desk to work on some other aspect of the case. I guess I didn’t need that much help after all.
I was just finishing up entering my statement when the Chief returned to the station. He wasn’t alone. Behind him stalked a man in a gray pinstriped suit. Let me be clear, the man in the suit was a suit. FBI. I would have been able to spot him from a mile away.
I was printing copies of my finished report, one for Bryce and one for the Chief, when the Chief bellowed for me.
“Boston!”
I went straight to the Chief’s office carrying my reports and let myself in. The suit was sitting across the desk from the Chief.
“Boston, this is Agent Stillwell with the FBI out of Seattle,” the Chief said by way of introduction.
“Agent,” I said, nodding my head.
“Ms. Boston,” the agent replied, remaining seated and also nodding his head.
Serial killer. Federal agent. It all made sense, but how did he get here so fast?
“Is that your report?” the Chief asked, and then without waiting for a response added, “Hand it over.”
I handed the Chief both copies of my report. He handed one to the G-man. I remained standing as they read my report. Neither of them had any questions. What can I say? I write a lean and mean report.
“Chief Wallace, what have you done to track down this fake minister?” the agent asked.
“I have a list of guests to the wedding. My men will be interviewing them to see if any remember seeing the minister leave the ceremony. This will all start as soon as the crime scene involving the minister’s office has been handed over to the county investigators.”
“Good. I’ve brought our case files on Cyrus Knox with me if you’d like to bring yourself up to speed.”
“If there’s nothing else that I can contribute,” I interrupted, “I wonder if I might ask a question.”
“Shoot,” said the Chief instinctively.
The agent looked leery of the interruption.
“How did Agent Stillwell get here so soon?”
The Chief and the agent shared a knowing glance.
“I told you she’d ask,” the Chief said, rocking back in his chair.
“I was in the area on a separate but possibly related case,” the agent explained.
It was obvious that was all he was going to say on the matter, so I lost interest.
“If you don’t mind,” I said, “I have a wedding reception to attend.”
“Yes, you may leave now, Boston,” the Chief said, “but keep your cellphone turned on and on your person at all times.”
I let myself out of his office. Apparently Gordon had been made so busy by the murder cases that he didn’t have time to swing by and listen at the keyhole. I stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine to collect Blue and get on my tricycle.
You’d have thought the fact I was in a dress would have tipped me off earlier. Of course, I had no Blue and no tricycle because Alex had dropped me off earlier. I stood and pondered what to do. I ultimately determined that it would show better form to catch a lift with someone from the station than to pull anyone away from the wedding reception.
I turned and walked back into the station. The first thing that I saw when I entered was Eddie Springer stepping out of the Chief’s office. I instantly felt my hackles rise as my own door closed behind me. Eddie looked one way, then the other before walking in my direction. When he finally looked up and saw me he stopped dead in his tracks. A look of surprise and then fear spread across his features. I started toward him as fast as my heels would allow, which wasn’t fast enough. Eddie turned and ran back to the Chief’s office. He let himself in and slammed the door shut behind himself. I was right on his heels.
Before Eddie could throw the lock on the door I had it open. The Chief and Agent Stillwell were sitting around the Chief’s desk examining a map of the Rankles and Edwards construction site. Several pictures of the site were also strewn across the table. They looked up to see what was causing the commotion. Eddie was backing across the small office frantically looking for a place to hide.
“Keep that woman away from me,” Eddie insisted, pointing at me. “I don’t want her to know that I’m here.”
“Boston, what the blazes are you doing in here?”
“I’d like to ask the same question of you,” I replied without much thought.
Then I gave it some thought, a great deal of thought. Unlike the slow grinding process of ANALYTICO, I’m sometimes struck by moments of intuition that make everything clear in an instant. This was one such instant. Eddie Springer was Randolph Rankles son, he was also vehemently opposed to his father’s recent construction project in Hope Falls, the Chief was conducting an investigation of Rankles and Edwards Construction, and Eddie.…
“You’re a snitch,” I said to Eddie. “That’s what’s been so wrong with you all this time. You’re spying on your father, who is being investigated by the Chief and the FBI. That’s what I’ve been picking up on.”
Wow, I thought as I came to realize the significance of what I’d just said. If what I said was true, the last thing I should have done was busted into the Chief’s office hurling accusations.
“I told you she’d find out,” the Chief r
eminded the FBI agent. “Boston, get inside this room and close that door before everyone in the station knows about this,” he instructed.
I heard someone clear his throat and turned to find Gordon standing behind me.
“I just happened to be passing by,” Gordon explained.
“So, now he knows too?” Eddie cried indignantly.
“Gordon, you get in here too,” the Chief ordered. “Eddie, lighten up and relax.”
“They know,” Eddie declared.
Eddie dropped to the floor in a squat and draped his arms over his head. I couldn’t determine whether he was still trying to hide from me or if he was just acting out the process of curling up and dying. I stepped inside the room and heard Gordon close the door.
“You know, Agent Stillwell, Chloe finding out about this mess could end up being a good thing.”
“We’re aware of Ms. Boston’s peculiar talent,” the agent said.
There was that peculiar talent talk again.
“In fact, there’s a course at Quantico on amateur detection.”
Hey, who’s he calling an amateur?
“The course features some of Ms. Boston’s more unusual cases.”
Wow, they teach me at Quantico?
“It was an elective course. I chose not to take it.”
That certainly brought me back down to earth in a hurry.
“Ms. Boston, why don’t you take my seat while we bring you up to speed on the second case,” Agent Stillwell said, rising from his chair.
“You mean on your investigation into Rankles and Edwards Construction?”
I thought I heard Eddie whimper at the mere mention of the company name.
“Please, just have a seat. You can remain standing,” he directed at Gordon.
Gordon stood. I sat since I was wearing heels. I wanted to hear what the Feds had to say. As it turned out, they had a lot to say. Apparently they had been investigating the company for quite some time. Agent Stillwell wanted me to know how excited he was by the book plot murder tie-in. But before he could begin, he first had to deal with Gordon.
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