by Vickie Fee
After going over the schedule and answering a couple of questions, the committee members started filing out the door.
Holly and I helped carry food out to Winette’s vehicle. Her car loaded with several grocery bags of marshmallows and chocolate bars and a couple of ice chests filled with hot dogs, Winette headed out to the Crego’s farm to check on arrangements for the teen hayride and bonfire.
“Holly, why don’t you go on over to the country club? There’s so much going on there, what with the dinner, the dance, and the play. I’ll go by the church gym to check on the children’s Halloween festival and join you later.”
“Awlright, darlin’,” Holly said.
She turned to leave and I suddenly blurted out, “Holly, what are we forgetting?”
I realized my hands were clammy and felt certain I would break out in hives at any moment.
“Don’t worry, Liv. We’ve got this,” Holly said with enviable poise. “Everything has been meticulously arranged. And you, Winette, and I will make sure the plan is executed to the letter. Nobody would dare mess with us.”
After inspecting the Presbyterian Church gym and checking up on the volunteers for the children’s festival, I started to feel a little better about things. The kindergarten teacher in charge of the kids’ event had all her workers divided into pairs or “buddy teams” to make sure no one could wander away from their duties unnoticed. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to see them walking single file, holding on to a line of string.
I arrived at the Dixie Country Club a few minutes before eight AM. The apparent chaos gave me an instant headache. It was eleven hours til showtime and the only things that had been set up were the tables.
The florist brought in the flowers for the table centerpieces, and Holly and I began placing the Clue-themed decorations in and around the arrangements. A couple of the ornaments had come apart in transit. I dug into my bag of tricks and realized I’d forgotten to pack a glue gun. I asked the carpenter who was working on erecting the sets if he had one I could borrow. He looked at me like I was crazy, waved a pneumatic nail gun in my direction, and said, “Would this work?”
I thanked him for the offer and told Holly I would drive back to the office to get the glue gun and anything else I thought we could possibly need.
“Don’t worry about things here, darlin’,” Holly said. “We really are in good shape.”
Whether or not it was true, I appreciated her saying it. As I was about to leave, my cell phone rang. It was the team leader at the church gym.
“The teenage volunteers setting up our booths and games have burned through all the doughnuts, muffins, and bagels already, even though I thought we had enough for days. One of them was even desperate enough to dip into the basket of fruit on the table, although the rest of them turned their noses up at the suggestion of something healthy. It’s a long time until lunch, and I don’t want their energy levels to drop off,” she said. “Is there any way you could have someone deliver extra goodies to tide us over?”
“I’m just heading into town, so I’ll take care of it,” I said, thinking how she was used to giving snacks to kindergarten students whose tastes and appetites were a bit different from teenagers.
I parked on the square and ran upstairs to my office. I tossed into a file box the glue gun, extra glue sticks, an additional stapler, some magic markers, and several other things I thought might come in handy.
I stowed the box in my SUV and was about to get in the driver’s seat when I spotted Di and Dave coming out of the diner. Di waved me over.
“You look worn out already and it’s only eight-thirty in the morning,” Di said. “Be sure you make time to eat so your blood sugar doesn’t bottom out on you.”
“You do look kinda frazzled,” Dave added.
“I’ve been swilling coffee and eating doughnuts since the crack of dawn. I don’t think blood sugar’s my problem,” I said.
“I’d better get back to the office,” Dave said, giving Di’s arm a discreet little squeeze before sauntering down the block.
“So you and Dave had breakfast together. Does that mean he gave you an apology?”
“We both apologized. I did say some pretty nasty things to him the other night,” she said sheepishly. “But don’t go making a big deal out of it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I know you’ve got your hands full today. Anything I can do to help?” Di asked.
“Actually, you could make a delivery for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I explained how the students had eaten a day’s worth of doughnuts already. Di fell in step with me as I started walking toward Dixie Donuts and More.
“Although I can’t really criticize the kids, grown folks were plowing through the muffins at the planning meeting this morning like it was their last meal.”
Renee said hello as we entered the shop. “What can I do for you?”
“The teenagers out at the church gym are bottomless pits,” I said. “Could you add some more doughnuts and muffins to my tab?”
“For the kids, I’ll give you three dozen on the house,” she said. “Just tell me what you want.”
I looked in the display case and started picking out an assortment, a half dozen of these, a half dozen of those. Renee started packing up my order, and even though I should have paced myself on the caffeine, I ordered a coffee to go.
I paid for the coffee, and Di and I started walking back down the block. I thanked Di for offering to make the delivery and told her to help herself to a muffin or a doughnut.
Then suddenly it struck me. I guess the huge volumes of caffeine I’d imbibed had finally made it to my brain. I turned to Di, almost spilling my coffee in the process, and said, “I know who killed Morgan!”
Chapter 25
After making this startling declaration, I absently set the bag filled with bakery boxes on one of several benches lining the square before crumpling onto the bench myself.
“What? Who? How?” Di said, covering all the bases except for “When?”
I shared my epiphany with her.
“Wow,” she said. “You have to tell Dave about this right away.”
“You’re right.”
We put the bakery bag in Di’s car and hurried across to the sheriff’s office.
I started telling Dave my story, and while I was talking something else that didn’t register at the time suddenly came to mind. For a change, Dave seemed genuinely interested in the information I was giving him instead of dismissing me as a nut job.
“Problem is,” I said, “I don’t know if there’s any way to prove it.”
“Let me worry about that,” Dave said. “Ted and I will get right on this and see what we can dig up.”
He started to walk away, but I called out, “Dave, if possible please don’t arrest anybody until after the mystery dinner tonight.”
Dave opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off.
“I know it may not be a reasonable request, but it is for charity and it would be a shame if anything threw a wet blanket on the fund-raiser at this point,” I said with imploring eyes.
Dave wouldn’t promise anything, but told me I needn’t worry since he had no evidence to make an arrest right now. Then he reminded me there was still a pretty strong case against Jasmine. I swear he was like a broken record.
Di and I walked out of the sheriff’s office.
“I’ll ride with you out to the church,” I said. “Maybe we can think of some way to help Dave out.”
“Loathe as he is to accept help from us, he seemed to jump on what you told him.”
“I know without a doubt who killed Morgan,” I said. “But proving it is another matter entirely.”
Di and I drove to the church gym. By the time we delivered the doughnuts, we had hatched a plan we hoped would trap a killer.
The first and most crucial step was to catch Lucinda before she left town, even though I knew Dave’s head would probably explode if he k
new we were talking to her. I had no idea what time her flight was scheduled to depart, but I knew she wasn’t an early riser by choice. It was 9:20 AM when we arrived at the hotel.
“Do you actually think we can talk Lucinda into this? Why would she ever agree to it?” Di said.
“Your lack of confidence is inspiring,” I said. “I’m depending on Lucinda’s ego. She loves an audience, and I’m hoping that performing in front of the home crowd will be an enticement she can’t pass up.”
“You really believe that?” Di said.
“Yes. I have to. Because if she doesn’t agree to play along, it’s game over.”
I was a little worried when I didn’t spot one of her goons standing guard in the lobby. I waved at Ravi as we walked to the elevator, and he shot me a weak wave and a worried look.
Di and I got off the elevator on the third floor, and two guys from Lucinda’s entourage stopped us halfway down the hall to her room, telling us we couldn’t see Lucinda without an appointment.
That was good news. At least we knew she hadn’t left for the airport yet.
The more insistent they were that we leave, the louder Di got.
“You might as well take your hands off us,” she said. “We’re not leaving until we speak to Lucinda. And despite what she may think of us, she’ll want to hear this.”
Mitzi stepped into the hallway. The disgusted look on her face told me she was ready to give us what for. But to my surprise Lucinda stepped out right behind her.
“I’ll handle this,” she said, waving them all away before turning toward us.
“I had a feeling I wouldn’t make it out of town without seeing you one more time,” Lucinda said, glaring at me.
“That’s because you’re psychic,” I said, immediately regretting that I sounded so antagonistic.
She started to turn away, and I said, “I’m sorry, Lucinda. Please hear me out. I know who killed Morgan.”
“You do?” she said with a genuine look of surprise.
“Yes. But we need your help to prove it.”
Di and I briefly laid out our little hare-brained scheme and crossed our fingers that Lucinda would buy it. To our surprise she seemed amenable and invited us into her sitting room to discuss the details of what we wanted her to do.
“It’s a crazy idea. But I suppose I owe it to Morgan to do what I can to bring her killer to justice,” Lucinda said in that imperious tone I’d come to find so unendearing.
She called Mitzi in and instructed her to change the airline tickets for the two of them to a Sunday departure.
“The rest of the team can fly out as scheduled,” she said. “But since we’re packed, go ahead and book us for tonight at a hotel closer to the airport under your name. I don’t want to risk getting waylaid one more night in this town.”
* * *
So far, so good.
Next up, I needed to go to the high school and enlist Mrs. Cooley’s help. I felt badly about abandoning Holly. Di volunteered to go to the country club and help Holly in whatever way she could.
“Do you want me to tell Holly what you’re up to?” Di asked.
“No. Just tell her some other things came up,” I said. “As big and spread out as tonight’s events are, she’ll have no trouble believing that.”
Di dropped me off at my SUV and loaded the box with the glue gun and other supplies into her car before driving to the country club. I hoped Mrs. Cooley would be receptive to the plan. Our plot to trap the killer would fall flat without some help from the murder mystery performers.
On the drive over to the school I toyed with the idea of calling Nell to tell her that the sheriff was finally on the trail of the real murderer. But I thought better of it, knowing Jasmine wasn’t in the clear just yet.
Since it was Saturday, the school office was closed and the main entrance was locked. I drove around to the side of the building, where several cars were parked and a side door was propped open. It was the door to the auditorium.
Mrs. Cooley was once again in the front row, running the actors through their scenes. When she saw me cutting through rows of theater seats as I made my way down front, she called out “Cut” and told the kids to take five. She stood and started walking toward me. We met in the main aisle.
“I’m a little surprised to see you here with everything you have going on today,” she said. “Is everything okay with the sets? A couple of the dads volunteered to oversee the construction and setup, and I thought that was probably a better idea than having the students do it.”
“Oh, everything with the sets seemed to be coming along nicely when I left the country club,” I said. “That’s not why I’m here.”
I tried to explain the confusing situation as clearly as I could and hoped she’d agree to her necessary part in the plan.
“Basically, you’d only need to rewrite a few lines in the next-to-last scene,” I said. “I jotted down the gist of it here,” I said, handing her one of my earlier checklists with notes scribbled on the back of it.
“Of course, you’d be the one to write the actual dialogue, since you wrote the script to begin with.”
She seemed skeptical, but took the paper and read over the notes.
“It’s pretty eleventh hour for the students to learn new lines. . . .” she said.
“I really wouldn’t ask if it weren’t so important,” I said. I held my breath as she mulled it over.
“Are you sure the sheriff will be okay with this? I wouldn’t want to put the students or their parents in an awkward situation.”
“I understand, and I accept complete responsibility,” I said. “Besides, none of the lines the students will be acting out will be directly related to the murder—Morgan’s murder, that is. We’re just changing the trajectory of the story a bit to set the stage for our star performer.”
“I suppose so,” she said, reading over my notes again. “Okay, if it helps bring a killer to justice, I can hardly refuse. I’ll write it so Ryan and Megan—Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock—have the new dialogue. Neither of them will have any trouble learning a few new lines. But I don’t think I’ll tell the students the reason for the changes. It would just make them more nervous.”
“Oh, I agree completely. Thank you, Mrs. Cooley. Thank you so much,” I said. “Call me on my cell if you have any questions or problems. I’ll put the additional props you’ll need on the set. What time do you think you all will arrive at the country club?”
“The kids will be in costume and on the set by five forty-five for a final run-through.”
“Great,” I said.
I hurried to my car and made one more quick stop to pick up the necessary props before driving back to the country club.
When I pulled into the parking lot, Winette was walking toward her car. I waved to her. I believed it was best that as few people as possible knew about our catch-a-killer plan, but I felt Winette was one of those few people who needed to know. After all, she would be the emcee for the evening.
I outlined the basic idea, and Winette listened with a pained expression.
“Mmm-hmm. I know it would be a waste of time to try to talk you out of this,” she said as she opened the driver’s door to her car. “You should probably make sure the sheriff will be on hand tonight, just in case.”
I thought about her parting comment as I watched her drive away. But I couldn’t imagine what could go wrong with the plan.
Di, who had volunteered to help Holly in my stead, came over as soon as she spotted me.
“Is Mrs. Cooley on board?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “All systems are go. Have you seen or heard from Dave?”
“No,” Di said. “But I don’t really expect to until tonight. Unless work intervenes, which is a real possibility, he plans to come to the dinner.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “Winette seems to think it would be a good idea for him to be around for the proceedings.”
“Have you told anyone besides Winette
and Mrs. Cooley—and Lucinda, of course,” she said.
“No. I figure the fewer people who know, the better.”
“Unless you need something else from me, I’m heading home,” Di said.
“I think we’re good,” I said. “Thanks for pitching in. I’ll see you tonight.”
It was no surprise that Holly seemed to have things well in hand in the main dining room, so I checked in with Felix in the kitchen and then proceeded to the ballroom to see how preparations for the dance were coming along.
Harold and Kenny were affixing strands of twinkling lights to the underside of the catwalks and scaffolding near the ceiling of the ballroom. When most of the lights were dimmed, except for the spotlight aimed at the band performing onstage, it would look like a canopy of stars. White wooden folding chairs were arranged around the perimeter of the room in small groupings between white columns that were wrapped in ivy and strands of white lights.
I took a short lunch break to eat one of the sandwiches that ladies from a couple of local churches had brought by for the volunteers. I had to cajole Holly into sitting down for a few minutes to eat something. She’s a force to be reckoned with when she’s on a mission.
I moved back and forth between the dining room and ballroom. I spent a lot of time on the phone, fielding questions and putting out fires. Fortunately, there were no literal fires, although I double-checked with the chief of the volunteer fire department to make sure someone would be onsite for the evening bonfire out at the farm.
Dylan came into the ballroom pushing a cart loaded with planters and pots of blooming shrubs and flowers to add to the ones already lining the front of the elevated stage. Nell’s son, Billy Jr., walked in just behind him and helped unload oversize pots of trumpet-shaped blooms of four o’clocks along with overflowing planters of sweet autumn clematis. The bounteous blooms, all white, would look even more beautiful tonight, bathed in the glow of strategically placed uplights.
“Dylan, the flowers and shrubs look amazing. And they smell wonderful, too,” I said, breathing in the heady scents.
“Yeah, this variety of clematis is really pretty this time of year, and so fragrant,” he said, gently cupping his hand under one of the star-shaped blooms. “And the four o’clocks will keep blooming like this until the first frost.”
