A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2)

by Lynn Bohart

  I adjusted one of the steeple clocks, angling it toward the light, and then moved a lovely porcelain chiming clock onto a small wooden crate to give it more prominence. Then I stood back to admire my handiwork.

  A noise made me glance out the paned living room window toward Ellen Fairchild’s home across the street. Ellen had died ten months earlier when she drove her Lexus off a road at the top of the island. Her husband, Ray, put the house up for sale just before Christmas. The home had sold quickly, and now there was a moving van parked in the driveway. I watched two burly men carry a high-end leather sofa through the front door.

  I had new neighbors.

  A wave of sadness washed over me as I was reminded of the loss of my friend, Ellen. As I stared off into space, a big black Mercedes pulled down my driveway, catching my attention.

  It was Doe, the first of my book club to arrive.

  Today, the girls weren’t coming to discuss books, but rather my campaign for Mayor of Mercer Island. I sighed heavily at the thought. I didn’t really relish the idea of campaigning for political office. But the girls had talked me into it, since the only other viable candidate was Dana Finkle, a woman we all despised. However, now I had another potential murder on my mind, which was far more enticing than a political campaign.

  I met Doe at the front door. The rain from the night before had stopped, but it was still bitterly cold and icicles spiraled down from the gingerbread cutouts that lined the porch overhang. Doe swept in, prompting the dogs to scamper around her feet, asking for attention.

  “Why couldn’t I be a few inches taller?” I said, eying her tall, slender figure. “You always look so elegant.”

  At 5’ 2” and fifteen pounds overweight, I could hardly be described as elegant – pretty, perhaps, but not elegant.

  Doe gracefully bent down to pet the dogs. “Being tall has its downsides. My first boyfriend was about your height. Believe me, it was awkward when…well, you know.”

  I exploded in laughter. “Thanks for that.”

  She straightened up and flashed me a smile. “You know, even though I’m pushing sixty-five, the first thing I do when I get home at night is to shed these work clothes and climb into my sweat pants.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but I’ve seen you in sweat pants. I think you iron them.” I drew her into the entryway and closed the door, shivering. “What meeting are you missing today by being here?”

  “I only went in this morning for a couple of personnel reviews. I have to see my investment advisor this afternoon.”

  “Aren’t you ever going to retire?” I chided, watching her strip off her wool coat to reveal her signature black pant suit and a robin’s egg blue silk blouse, which perfectly accented her salt and pepper hair. “It seems to me that you’ve earned a rest by now.”

  I took her coat and hung it on a nearby coat tree and then led her down the hallway and into the dining room. Since we were only a bed and breakfast, the guests had their one meal of the day in the breakfast room. This left the dining room available for meetings.

  The dining room was large, with a table that seated twelve overlooking the lake. We’d gone for elegance when decorating the dining room in rich red and gold drapes. A dark oak wainscoting and paneling ran the lower perimeter of the room, while a deep green floral wall paper flecked with gold stretched to the ceiling. Antique sideboards filled with vintage china sat at each end of the room. The pocket door gave us complete privacy.

  “No retirement for me just yet,” Doe was saying as she followed me into the room. “I’m not like you, Julia. I don’t have a hobby or another skill I could turn into a business. I’m committed to garbage,” she said, flashing her dark eyes at me with a broad smile.

  Doe ran her deceased husband’s waste management company, the company they had built together right out of college. She always carried an enormous black leather satchel, which she dropped with a thud next to one of the high-backed wooden chairs.

  “What do you carry in that thing, anyway?” I asked her. “I’ve always thought you could anchor a small ship with it.”

  She laughed. “I take a lot of work home, so I carry my laptop and files. Plus this,” she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a revolver.

  “Whoa!” I said, stepping back. “When did you decide to carry a gun?”

  “When both Ellen and Martha were murdered,” she said somberly. “I live alone, Julia. I thought maybe I needed protection. I just bought it, actually. It’s not loaded, and I don’t know how to use it, yet. But I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve signed up for classes that start next week.” She gave me serious look. “You should join me.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll stick to dogs, friends, and dating a cop.”

  She sighed and put the gun back. “I can’t say I feel good about it. But who knows? Maybe my new hobby will be target practice. Anyway, if it makes me feel safer and more confident, it will be worth it.”

  “Actually, I was going to suggest that you travel,” I said.

  She smiled. “Rudy and I are talking about a trip to Mexico this summer,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Wanna go?”

  “I have to take my mother home to Illinois, remember?” I said.

  “Ah, yes,” she smiled.

  My mother had died the year before, and I kept her ashes in the garage, along with those of several of my past canine companions. It was a constant source of amusement for my friends.

  Just then, the front door bell jingled and Rudy’s voice call out, “I hope there’s banana bread or something. I need comfort food.”

  I poked my head into the hallway.

  “Maybe we should meet over in the bakery,” I said to her.

  She threw her deep green wool coat and plaid muffler onto the coat tree and marched down the hallway, rubbing her hands together to warm up. She suddenly stuck her nose in the air.

  “Wait a minute, are you making your famous spaghetti sauce?” she said as she passed the breakfast room.

  Rudy was a compact 5’ 6”, with an intense personality that was a little bit like a low-grade explosive ready to go off. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the dining room.

  “No. That’s Mr. Mulford,” I said with a smile, but low enough that he couldn’t hear. “He always smells like Juno’s Italian Restaurant.”

  “Darn. I thought you’d made spaghetti for lunch. By the way, Blair said she’d be a few minutes late. She’s having a new sofa delivered this morning.”

  “Speaking of sofas,” I said. “I have new neighbors.” I pointed across the hallway and through the living room window to Ellen’s old house. “I saw the movers carrying in a sofa a little while ago.”

  Doe got up and both women craned their necks to look.

  “I passed the moving truck on the way in,” Rudy said. “Any idea who they are?”

  “No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’ll probably walk over there this weekend though and introduce myself.”

  “Well, let’s hope they’re as nice as Ellen was,” Doe said wistfully. “God, I still miss her.”

  “Martha, too,” I said.

  The mention of our two friends who had died within months of each other brought the conversation to a halt, and we all stood in silence for a moment.

  “Okay, let’s get this meeting going,” Doe erupted. “We have a campaign to plan!”

  “Wait,” I said, stopping them. “I have something to tell you first.”

  Before I could say another word, the sound of tires on gravel interrupted me. We turned and glanced out the front window again. A black SUV parked by the front door, provoking a collective intake of breath from each one of us.

  “Uh–oh,” Doe murmured.

  The car doors opened. David and Detective Abrams emerged, and I felt a slight flutter in my chest. Why hadn’t David just called? This looked like an official visit.

  The three of us returned to the entryway. The bell above the door jingled again as t
hey walked in. David came in first, his badge hanging on a lanyard underneath his coat. Detective Abrams stepped in behind him, filling the doorway with his action-figure height and broad shoulders. As an ex-Army Ranger, he carried an air of unyielding confidence that most people found intimidating. They both nodded to me with grim expressions, as Detective Abrams closed the door.

  These two men had been regular fixtures at the Inn after Martha died. The thought of having them both standing in my entryway could only mean one thing – something was wrong.

  “Good morning, Julia,” David said quickly. “Sorry to bother you so early.”

  His greeting lacked all the warmth of our date just twelve hours before.

  “Go ahead, make my day!” a voice called out from the breakfast room.

  Everyone turned to where Captain Ahab, our African gray parrot, was dancing around in his cage. I had purchased Ahab from an estate sale on a whim, not knowing that he came with an extensive vocabulary and a propensity to quote lines from old movies. The detectives ignored his remark.

  “Julia, something’s come up,” David said, glancing at the front desk. Crystal, my manager, was working there. He glanced over at Mr. Mulford, who was bent over his work in the breakfast room. “Perhaps we could speak with you alone.”

  “By alone, you mean with Doe and Rudy?” I said, gesturing to my friends.

  David glanced at the two women and turned to Detective Abrams, who nodded.

  “Let’s go into the dining room,” I said, pointing down the hallway.

  Mr. Mulford glanced up as we passed by, but went right back to work.

  Fortunately, most of our guests were out for the day. Only a young couple was in residence, and they were camped out in the library looking through some of my old books. I slid the door closed and the five of us huddled up next to the dining room table.

  “You guys are making me nervous,” I said. “Whose body did you find at the library last night?”

  “Body?” Doe exclaimed, her dark eyes flaring.

  Detective Abrams’ hooded blue eyes shifted quickly in David’s direction. I wondered if David had told him about our date the night before.

  “Do you know Trudy Bascom?” Detective Abrams asked me.

  “Not really. I know who she is. She’s Dana Finkle’s campaign assistant. Why?”

  “She was found dead last night outside the library,” he said.

  “Oh, my God,” I said with a gasp. “How awful. What happened?”

  “She was struck in the head, Julia,” David said quietly. “A patrol officer found her when he was checking on the library. He noticed a car in the parking lot.”

  “Dear God,” I muttered. “And no one saw anything?”

  “No. But we think the patrol officer got there only moments after the killer fled.”

  “That parking lot is pretty open,” Rudy said. “He didn’t see anyone running away?”

  David shook his head. “No. Remember there was a storm last night. But the blood…well, everything looked fresh. And her body was still warm.”

  David glanced at Detective Abrams and then pulled a piece of paper from his inside pocket. His guilty expression had my ears buzzing.

  “What?” I said, glancing at the paper.

  He handed it to me. “It’s a search warrant. We need to confiscate any computers or electronic devices you have.”

  “Why?” Rudy demanded. “What would Julia have to do with Trudy Bascom’s death?”

  David leveled his gaze on Rudy. “We just spoke to Dana Finkle, and she said that she and Trudy were at someone’s home last night collecting a campaign contribution.” He turned toward me. “Just before 10:00, Dana received a message from you on her cell phone, asking her to meet you at the library at 10:30. Mrs. Finkle was busy, and so she sent Trudy instead.”

  I’m sure my eyes were as round as billiard balls by this time. “But I didn’t send Dana a message. Why would I? I hate the woman.”

  David flinched. “Julia, be careful what you say.”

  “But I was with you,” I declared.

  David shifted his weight again. “I know, Julia. We’ve already discussed that,” he said, indicating Detective Abrams. “But we have to follow the lead about the message.”

  “Are you here to arrest her?” Doe said. “Because I doubt an email or text message is much evidence.”

  “No. Of course not. But it appears that if Julia didn’t send the message, someone is trying to make it look like she did. That’s why we need to take a look at your computers,” he said, turning an apologetic gaze my way. “Along with your cell phone.”

  The normally dominant Detective Abrams was unusually quiet. I glanced at him. “So, whoever sent that email meant to kill Dana? Not Trudy.”

  “We believe so,” he replied. “And, of course, given the nature of your relationship, Mrs. Finkle is blaming you.”

  The fact that someone wanted Dana Finkle dead wasn’t a surprise. Most everyone on the island hated her. Neither was it news that I might now be suspected of murder. Been there – done that.

  But I had spent the last several years silently wishing someone would get rid of her. Not necessarily kill her. But having her disappear would have been nice. Now I wasn’t so sure. This didn’t have the feel of good news.

  I took a deep breath and twisted my neck to look into Detective Franks’ very handsome, but right now, very serious face. “I’m happy to have you take whatever you want,” I said with a stiff lip. “But I didn’t send her an email, a text message, or any other type of communication. Let’s just get this over with. You guys can stay here,” I said to Doe and Rudy. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I turned on my heel and led them into the breakfast room again. Mr. Mulford looked up.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to finish up later, Mr. Mulford,” I said with a slight toss of my head. “These gentlemen will be taking my computers. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to schedule another time. Meanwhile,” I said, pointing to the paperwork already lying on the table. “Why don’t you take everything else with you?”

  “Yes, of course,” he murmured. His eyes darted back and forth between the two detectives. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I nodded and left him to finish up, while I took the two men to the reception desk. Crystal kept her head down, but glanced up with her eyes as we approached. I use a small office tucked behind the desk and under the staircase and gestured towards it.

  “You can take my laptop in there. But please be careful. We take all of our registrations on it, and I have several new guests checking in this weekend.”

  “Mrs. Applegate,” Detective Abrams started to say. He glanced at Crystal. “We’re just doing our job, you know.”

  For all of his youthful machismo, Detective Abrams often seemed timid in my presence. I wondered if it was because he and my daughter, Angela, were dating, and he felt he had to tread lightly. It couldn’t be my size. After all, I only came up to his chest.

  “I understand that, Detective,” I replied. “Remember that I’ve been through all of this before. I just want it over so that I can get back to work. Crystal, can you help Detective Franks unplug everything? You can come with me,” I said to Detective Abrams.

  Crystal sidestepped past us into the office, her eyes veiled with apprehension. I turned and started towards my apartment at the far end of the Inn. A familiar voice rang out again behind us.

  “Norman, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch me! Don’t!” Ahab squawked.

  I stopped and turned. Ahab was bobbing back and forth nervously on his perch. I glanced up at Detective Abrams, who was only a few steps behind me.

  “You make him nervous,” I said. “He thinks you’re Norman Bates. Stop channeling your inner Alfred Hitchcock and don’t look so intimidating.”

  The detective rolled his eyes before following me down the hallway. I used my key to open the door and led him to my personal office. I pointed to my desktop computer.

  �
�While you get that one, I’ll get my other laptop,” I said. “It’s on the table.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Technically, I can’t let you do that alone. If you’ll just wait right there, I’ll get this one and then go with you.”

  “You don’t trust me? After all we’ve been through?”

  “It’s not that. It’s protocol. Please. Just stay there.”

  He disappeared into my study, while I remained in the hallway humming to myself. A moment later, he flew back into the hallway, his blue eyes ablaze with alarm.

  “Who did that?” he demanded, glaring at me.

  I stood still and stared at him. “Did what?”

  Detective Franks appeared at the apartment door with the office laptop in his hands. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Someone pinched me,” Detective Abrams said, glancing around as if he thought I had hidden someone in the apartment.

  I sighed. “You know the Inn is haunted, don’t you?” They both looked at me with blank stares. “Seriously, it’s haunted,” I said. “That was probably Chloe. She likes to follow me around and play games.” They continued to stare. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, turning for the kitchen table. “We have ghosts. Get over it. Now, here’s my laptop,” I said, grabbing it and coming back to hand it to Detective Abrams. “And here’s my cell phone.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. “Now, I’m going back to the dining room to work on my campaign. Close the door behind you when you leave.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I rejoined Doe and Rudy in the dining room and slumped into a chair. But it wasn’t until I heard the front door bell jingle and the big SUV’s engine start that I relaxed.

  “God help me, Dana Finkle will be the death of me one way or the other,” I said with a frustrated exhale.