“They’re beautiful, thanks.” I took the flowers, put them in the one crystal vase I owned and placed the arrangement on the coffee table where I could see it as soon as I walked in the door.
Within minutes Sparky was tucked safely away with Aunt Maria, and we had retrieved a picnic basket from Stanley’s car, parked outside. Soon we were walking hand in hand across the green to the gazebo.
“Thanks, this is nice. I’m glad to be out of the house,” I said.
“What have you been up to today?”
I decided not to tell him about my snooping. I had a feeling Stanley would not like the fact that I was reading about Oliver, and I knew how he felt about me looking into the Ethel thing. But he was the mayor, and I had a feeling Stanley knew more than he realized he knew. Maybe I could get him to talk without his knowing why I was asking questions.
“Do you go to St. Olaf or Trinity Church?” I asked.
“What makes you think I go to church?” Stanley replied, spreading a blanket on the bench for us.
“I assume that as a politician it would be in your best interests to spend time in some kind of church,” I answered.
“That’s terribly cynical,” he said, “but to answer your question, if I go to church it’s usually at Trinity.”
I’d hoped that was what he would say. That was the church Ethel had gone to, a big old Episcopalian structure that had been around since the town was first formed. Ethel had always been organizing something for the church, whether it was a dinner or craft show or mission trip.
Stanley leaned over and flipped a switch on the space heater positioned under the bench. Sure enough, warm air started to blow around us, and I was thrilled about the heat.
“Have you gone to Trinity recently?” I asked.
“Why all the questions about church?” Stanley said. “Don’t you go to the Catholic church here?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I’ve been thinking about switching.” That statement caught me by surprise, despite the fact that I’d said it. Maybe I missed going to church; maybe it was time to find a new church home. I thought about it for a moment, then remembered why I was asking.
It had nothing to do with me going to church, and I sure could not see myself hauling my butt out of bed early on Sunday morning.
“Is it crowded?” I asked.
Stanley shook his head. “No, but I guess that depends on whether you go to the early morning service or the ten-thirty service. It got a lot more crowded after Ethel died.”
Perfect. Since he’d brought the subject up I could just go ahead and ask. “Why would Ethel’s death make the church more crowded? Do you think people felt guilty for saying mean things about her?”
“No. I think people are worried there’s a killer loose in our town.”
“So they’re going to church to pray about it?” That didn’t sound like it would stop a killer.
Stanley smiled. “I have a different theory. I think they’re going to church to check each other out, network a little, see if they can figure out who the killer is.”
Now that did make sense, and I said so. “Besides, it’s always someone everyone’s surprised about, isn’t it? Like a church deacon or something.”
“Exactly,” Stanley said. “Remember BTK? People were shocked about him. Wasn’t he some sort of church guy?”
“Yeah, kind of like Son of Sam, who became a born again Christian,” I said.
“Don’t forget Ted Bundy, who volunteered on the suicide prevention hotline.”
It was true. Killers were often people we didn’t expect, people with hidden selves who never let the world see who they really were. I wondered who that could be in our nice little town.
“Hard to believe it’s happening here in Brewster Square,” Stanley said, echoing my thoughts, “but I wanted to talk to you about Ethel’s murder.”
“I know it’s not something you can get involved in, and I completely understand,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your position as mayor, and I won’t ask for your help again.”
Stanley shook his head. “That’s not it. I’ve decided I want to help you.”
This was a surprise, and maybe even slightly suspicious. Was he trying to get me to stop looking into the murder by inserting himself into my investigation?
“I know I said I couldn’t help you, but that’s not exactly true,” he said. “Remember, I do lots of computer work. There may be something I can dig up for you, some sort of detail I can track down online that others might not know how to find.”
“Why did you change your mind?” I asked.
Stanley’s eyes hardened a bit. “I know it’s not a surprise that I like you, Ava. You should know that I’m loyal to a fault. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”
Hmmm. This was a nice piece of information, but it wasn’t really telling me why he had changed his mind.
“That’s great, Stanley, but why do you want to help me now? It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s a definite change from what you said to me earlier.”
With a grim look on his face, Stanley answered, “Because of this.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a plain white envelope and handed it to me.
I looked at it carefully. Printed on the front was the word copy.
“What’s this?” I asked, feeling the first stirring of unease.
“You can open it. It’s not the original, it’s a copy. The original had my name printed on the front.”
I pulled out a white sheet of paper and read the typewritten note.
Tell your girlfriend to forget about Ethel. It’s none of her business.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I was spitting mad. What kind of a dweeb tries to threaten me by sending my boyfriend a lame note like that? I couldn’t help it, the note reeked of someone trying to be a bully, and I hated bullies.
Did this person really think he could boss me around? The only person in my world who could tell me what to do was my brother, and even he had limits. Clearly, this was some kind of coward that was trying to warn me off.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Are you mad at me?” Stanley asked.
I shook my head. “No, I’m mad at whoever wrote that note. How dare he tell me what to do? Do I look like someone who takes direction from an anonymous letter writer?” Then the obvious occurred to me. “I’ll bet whoever wrote that note is the person who killed Ethel.”
Stanley nodded. “I thought the same thing. I turned the original over to the police this morning.”
Crap. Even as I was thinking of what that meant, my cell phone rang. I looked at the little window, and sure enough, there was Oliver’s name on my screen. I’d programmed his number into my phone so I could call him with updates, but I had a feeling I knew why he was calling me now.
“It’s the police,” I said to Stanley.
“You’d better talk to them,” he said.
With a frustrated sigh, I answered my phone. “Hi, Oliver,” I said in a cheerful voice. “What’s up?”
Stanley raised his eyebrows at me but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to, as I’m sure he could hear Oliver’s baritone voice booming through the phone.
“Forget everything I suggested to you,” Oliver said. “I want you to stay as far away from Ethel’s murder as possible. If you even hear a whisper of anyone talking about it, turn around and run in the opposite direction.”
“Okay,” I said.
There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I mean it, Ava. I don’t want you talking to anyone about it.”
“You can’t arrest me for listening to what others are saying,” I told him. Stanley’s eyebrows went up even farther, and I could tell he was dying to hear the entire conversation.
Oliver’s voice turned to a low growl. “Ava …”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. It was the most noncommittal thing I could think of to say. I knew Oliver was telling me this becaus
e of the note Stanley had received, but I couldn’t let my brother or my family down. I’d promised to help, and I had every intention of keeping that promise, even if I was being threatened.
“You are officially off the case. If I find out you are in any way involved, I will arrest you and hold you for obstruction of justice.”
Seriously? Not even a please or thanks for the help anyway, Ava, it’s been great? Mr. Personality strikes again.
“I’m going to the ghost hunt,” I said. “You can’t tell me not to.”
“There are always consequences to our actions. Be sure your actions do not provoke anyone,” Oliver said and disconnected.
I put my phone back in my bag, wondering what to do now that I’d been officially warned away.
“What was that about?” Stanley asked.
“I’m off the case,” I said without thinking.
“When, exactly, were you on the case?” Stanley’s tone alerted me to the fact that there might be a problem.
“I don’t think I was really on the case,” I said. “I was just supposed to pay attention and let Oliver know if I heard anything around town.”
“Was this a formal arrangement?”
Oh, boy. Stanley’s tone had definitely changed from the earlier “I’d love to help you.”
“It wasn’t in writing, if that’s what you mean,” I said.
“Did he approach you about helping him, or did you offer?”
I have to admit, Stanley was making me a little nervous. He might have run for mayor so he could have health insurance, but he sure did have that official and important tone of voice that people in positions of power used. He was using it on me, whether he realized it or not.
“Stanley, did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Because I would have done everything I’m going to do anyway. I’m trying to help my brother, remember?”
Stanley shook his head. “I know you want to help your family, and that’s admirable, but Detective Rialto should know better than to involve you in an active investigation.”
I was confused. “But you just offered to help me, too. You said you wanted to help. How is that different?”
“It’s different because I was going to help you by seeing what we could discover online, by digging through computer records and trying to find information. The good Detective was asking you to be physically involved in something that could get you hurt. I’m not even sure that’s legal.”
Silence fell between us as I thought about what Stanley said. I don’t think he realized that he’d said more than he realized. “You’re jealous of him, aren’t you?”
Stanley looked up at me, a blush creeping across his face. “No, there’s nothing to be jealous of,” he said. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re getting all protective of me, and I’ve never seen you get this upset at anyone else before,” I said. “But let me tell you, it’s not Oliver’s fault I’m involved. I told him I was good at detective work, and I told him …”
“I don’t care what you told him,” Stanley interrupted. “The fact is, he’s a professional who should know better, and this isn’t the first time, either.”
Stanley stopped talking, but I wasn’t sure what he had been referring to. “What do you mean?” I asked. “First time for what?”
Stanley looked me directly in the eyes, focused and passionate. “You know you could get hurt, right? That whoever murdered Ethel probably wouldn’t think twice about killing you, too, right? The people in this town are acting like a bunch of lunatics, and you’re out there trying to catch a murderer like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
I nodded. “It’s not as if anyone would know what I was doing.”
Stanley shook his head. “What makes you so sure? Did you hear about what happened to Oliver’s wife?” I nodded, not liking where this conversation was going. I think I knew what Stanley was going to say before he even said it.
“I heard it through the grapevine that he did the same thing with his wife, used her to help him close his cases, except it backfired on him, and she ended up dead. I think her death was because of him.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I’d never seen Stanley mad like that before, and I didn’t know what to make of it. His accusation that Oliver was somehow responsible for his wife’s disappearance struck me as a little harsh, but then I wondered if he knew something I didn’t. Stanley was the mayor, so maybe he had access to information the rest of us couldn’t get. Or maybe he just didn’t like Oliver.
Of course, we fought about it, with me insisting Oliver never made me do anything I wasn’t already going to do and trying to make Stanley understand that it was better if I did things with the full knowledge of the police. Stanley, however, insisted Oliver was in the wrong and stomped off, muttering something about jobs.
I hoped Oliver wasn’t going to get in trouble because of me. In the showdown of Oliver versus Stanley, I wasn’t entirely sure who would win. They were both incredibly stubborn.
I was sort of at loose ends with myself after my picnic with Stanley, and decided to go see Charlie. I knew it would be good for me to be with a friend instead of locked in my apartment, alone and isolated. Besides, Sunday nights were always times when I never knew what to do with myself. Time slowed, nothing happened, and I wondered if there were things I was supposed to be doing instead of sitting around looking at the scenery.
Visiting Charlie made my day worse. As soon as I got to her apartment, I could tell something was wrong.
Charlie lived in the really nice section of town down by the beach. Her house was always quiet and peaceful, a pond of serenity in our sometimes busy little town. Knocking on the door, I waited a moment, listening for Charlie’s footsteps.
Instead, all I could hear was a thudding noise.
That doesn’t sound good. What the hell is that noise?
I reached for the pewter-colored door handle on her glossy red door, hoping she’d left it unlocked. Sure enough, the handle turned easily, and I let myself into her house.
I could hear the thudding noise more clearly now and knew it was coming from the living room. Walking toward the sound, I realized I could hear something else: the sound of Charlie.
“Such,” thud, “an idiot,” thud.
“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping into her living room. Charlie was poised over her couch with what looked like a foam baseball bat in her hand. “What the heck is that?”
She looked up at me, her face flushed and her eyes moist. “It’s my stress reliever. I needed to hit something. Fred and I broke up.” As soon as she said it, Charlie sank onto the couch and began to cry.
Uh oh. What did his father do now?
I sat next to her and put my arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” I said, patting her back and not sure what else to say. I really believed she and Fred were going to be together forever, so maybe this was temporary. I hoped they could work it out.
“I hate him,” she said between hiccups.
I wasn’t sure exactly what Fred had done, but it couldn’t be good. Charlie loved everyone.
“Hate’s a strong word,” I said. “Maybe you just really don’t like him right now.”
Charlie looked at me, eyes reddened and mascara running. “He’s cheating on me.”
“I hate him, too,” I said. “What happened? Are you sure?” I like to think I’m a good judge of character, but I think everyone wants to think that of themselves. After knowing Fred for the past few years, though, I was sure I had him pegged as one of the good guys. Could both Charlie and I be blind to that kind of deception?
“When I went to the house earlier, I heard his father on the phone, making plans. He said that Fred would meet his date at the country club later tonight, that hopefully he would be all finished with me by then.”
And there it is. Nice work, Win.
“So all you heard was Win talking on the phone? Are you sure you know what he was talking about?”
“I know when I’m being cheated on,” she said, crying again. “When Win saw me he gave me that self-satisfied little smirk he gets, then he told me how lovely it was that we’d gotten to know each other. He made it very clear he was saying goodbye.”
“But we both know Win has been trying to break you and Fred up for a long time,” I said. “Listen, maybe you heard whatever he was saying on the phone, but I think you should talk to Fred about what his father said. Win’s a big jerk. Maybe he’s pulling some kind of underhanded villain thing.”
That got a weak smile out of my friend, so I pushed a little harder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Win planned this whole thing, and he wasn’t even talking to anyone on the phone. He probably just put on a big act for you. He can’t help it, it’s part of his evil persona.”
I could tell I was making Charlie feel a little bit better, and after a half-gallon of moose tracks ice cream we were both happier with the world.
“How did we ever live without this flavor?” Charlie said.
“I don’t know, but it’s got all the essentials for a good meal. Peanut butter for protein, chunks of chocolate for anti-cancer, and, um …”
“And ice cream is part of the dairy group, which we need for our bones,” Charlie finished for me.
When I left her house a while later, my friend was in better spirits but looked tired.
“Get a good night’s rest tonight. You’re going to need it for tomorrow,” I said.
“I’ll make it through the work day somehow,” she said, standing at the front door with me.
“Don’t forget, we’re going to Ethel’s house tomorrow night,” I said. “I need your support for this ghost hunt that’s actually a séance.”
I wasn’t sure about leaving Charlie alone, but she insisted she needed the time to herself. “I have to decide what I’m going to say to Fred so I don’t look needy and insecure,” she said. “I’ll meet you at Ethel’s tomorrow, though. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
Madness in Brewster Square Page 17
