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

by Lynn Bohart

  She paused. I heard a few intakes of breath around the room.

  “But Julia…” Doe said quietly from behind me.

  I put up my hand again to shush everyone.

  “And then what?” Dana asked suspiciously. “Who will run for mayor?”

  “Tony Morales,” I replied.

  “What? He can’t be mayor! He’s a…he’s a…”

  “A what? An amputee?” I said.

  Tony Morales was our City Administrator and an Afghanistan vet who had lost his left leg and left forearm to an IED. He wore prosthetics and got around in life just fine. But to someone with Dana’s underdeveloped sense of compassion, his injuries seemed to always make her uncomfortable. I’d seen her on more than one occasion just ignore him, even though he was right in front of her.

  “Why can’t he be mayor?” Doe said, suddenly taking the lead. “He has more experience than you do.”

  “Right,” Rudy said, moving in close. “He has a degree in business and has already been in his position for three years.”

  “Besides,” Blair said with a flip of her head. “People actually like him.”

  Dana looked from Blair, to Rudy, to Doe and then to me. “So, that’s the deal?”

  “Take it or leave it,” I said.

  “But he hasn’t even filed for the race,” she replied stubbornly.

  “The deadline isn’t for another two weeks,” I said.

  “The clock is ticking,” Doe said in a threatening tone.

  “And someone is out to kill you,” Blair hissed in the background.

  “But how do you know he even wants to run?” Dana whined.

  I could tell she knew she was between a rock and a hard place and didn’t like it. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” I told her. “You have more important things to worry about.”

  “Yeah, like saving your life,” Blair said mean-spiritedly.

  “Okay,” she said with a disappointed sigh. “I suppose it’s the risk that comes with being a public figure. I owe it to my supporters to stay safe, so I suppose dropping out of the race makes sense. After all, who could blame me? Someone is trying to kill me.”

  God, I knew it! I thought. She was going to milk this for all she could. Oh well, let her. At least she wouldn’t be mayor, and I wouldn’t have to run against her. You have to grab life’s little rewards when you can. Just then, the front door jingled again.

  “By the way, why isn’t Clay helping you?” I asked. “He’s your husband. Why didn’t you turn to him instead of us?”

  “He offered to hire a private detective,” she said. “But…I didn’t want…”

  The kitchen door opened, and a voice rang out, “Mom, I heard about…”

  Angela came in along with her large Harlequin Great Dane, Lucy. She stopped short when she saw all of us staring at her.

  “Aaaargh!” Dana screamed again. She was back up against the wall, this time with the nose of a dog the size of a small horse pressed to her crotch.

  “Lucy!” I yelled.

  Lucy was mild-mannered and sweet by nature, but Dana didn’t know that. I reached out and grabbed the dog’s thick, leather collar, pulling her back as she looked up at Dana, drool spilling out the side of her mouth.

  “Please…please, get it away from me,” Dana blubbered, barely able to breathe.

  “Not much of a dog person, are you?” Rudy said with a sarcastic twist to her mouth.

  I handed Lucy off to Angela. Mickey and Minnie had run over, and Minnie started bouncing up and down at Lucy’s feet as if her short little legs were equipped with tightly wound springs. For a small dog, Minnie could gain some real altitude. Dana’s chin moved up and down as she watched the Doxie get higher and higher, looking all the while as if she might pee in her pants. I nodded to Angela.

  “Let’s take them out of here.”

  Angela and I ushered all three dogs into the breakfast room and then let them go. They wandered into the entryway, with Mickey and Minnie running excitedly back and forth under Lucy’s belly and around her feet, while she tried in vain to catch them.

  “Why aren’t you at work?” I asked my daughter.

  Angela was a workaholic, just like her dad, and rarely took vacations. So I knew there was an ulterior motive for her unscheduled visit.

  “I took a vacation day,” she said. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware there was a subject.”

  “Really? What’s she doing here?” she said with a yank of her head in the direction of the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be talking to her.”

  My back stiffened. “Why not? I just got a call from the detectives, and I’ve been cleared. Someone hacked my email.”

  “I know,” she said crisply.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Since you seem to have a direct line to the Mercer Island Police Department and know everything before I do, why are you here?”

  She slumped back against the long counter we used to set up the breakfast buffet. “I just wanted to check on you to make sure you were okay. I know how you get when you think you’re accused of something.”

  “Defensive would be the word you’re looking for, don’t you think? After all, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then why is Dana here? You two aren’t exactly friends.”

  Angela was two inches taller than me, had beautiful high cheekbones and dimples, and lustrous long black hair. And then I noticed it.

  “When did you cut your hair?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at me suspiciously. “You’re doing it again. Changing the subject.”

  “Sorry,” I replied without conviction. “It just suddenly dawned on me that you cut your hair.”

  She had, in fact, cut her hair to chin length with bangs down to the graceful arch of her brows. It was a stunning look.

  “I like it,” I said.

  “Mother!” she said in her most admonishing tone.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “Dana is just here to do what she does best…harass me. She came to accuse me of sending the message that got Trudy killed. But now that I’ve been cleared, she’ll be leaving. Happy?”

  I wasn’t about to tell my nosy daughter the truth, so a long pause stretched between us as she studied me carefully.

  “Really, honey,” I said, breaking the silence. “Thanks for checking up on me.” I put a hand on her shoulder and began to move her in the direction of the front door. “Say hi to Detective Abrams for me.”

  “Look, Mom,” she said, pulling away. “I know you. You make bad decisions when you get all riled up. Don’t get involved in anything. Let the police do this.”

  “I’m sure that Detective Franks and Abrams have it all covered. Now you have a nice day off.” I pushed her toward the door where Lucy had finally settled down to allow the smaller dogs to crawl all over her.

  “Mickey! Minnie!” I called them. The dogs scrambled off Lucy and over to me, while Lucy hefted herself to her feet. “I’ll give you a call later, Honey,” I said brightly.

  Angela slipped past me. “Okay, but do not get involved.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Honey,” I responded, waving goodbye.

  I returned to the kitchen, where I found the air as frigid as it was outside. Doe, Rudy and Blair had returned to the table, while Dana had retreated to the center island.

  “All right, then,” I said to break the ice. “If we’re going to find out who’s trying to kill you, Dana, we’re going to have to know everything we can about you – past and present. Are you ready for that?”

  Dana’s eyes grew wide, and she drew her bulbous lips together. “Uh…sure,” she replied unconvincingly. “By everything, you mean…”

  “Everything,” Blair said. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

  Dana’s eyes darted from Blair and back to me. Then her eyebrows furrowed. “Uh…well, I’ve already talked to the police.”

  “Do you want us to help you or not?” I said, my pati
ence running thin.

  “Uh…yes, of course. But first,” she said, holding up a stubby finger. “I need to do something. Then we can talk tomorrow.” She started to back toward the kitchen door.

  “What?” Rudy exclaimed in disbelief. She stood up and came around the table again. “What could be more important than finding out who’s trying to kill you?”

  Dana turned to Rudy with her best indignant pose. “Not all of us have hired help to do everything we need, Rudy,” she said with all the venom she could muster. “Some of us have to get our hands dirty.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rudy said.

  Rudy had a strong right arm, as any batter on the fast pitch team she played against could tell you. And right now, I was afraid she was going to use it. I think Dana did too, because she backed right up to the door.

  “What I mean is that, uh…I need to finish up something, a project, and then I have to call my campaign committee together and plan a press conference to drop out of the race.” Her hand reached out for the door behind her. “Then tomorrow, we’ll get together, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She turned and was about to push her way through the swinging door.

  I stopped her.

  “Dana!” I snapped.

  She turned back to me.

  “You do realize that every minute that goes by, someone out there is probably still planning to kill you?”

  Her fingers clenched her purse straps. “Yes, of course. I’ll be done tonight and will call you tomorrow. I promise.”

  And as quickly as she’d appeared, the Wicked Witch was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I don’t trust her,” Blair said.

  “Yeah, that was pretty weird,” Rudy agreed. “One minute she’s demanding that we help her solve the crime, and the next minute she has more important things to do.”

  “You didn’t really want to run for mayor did you, Julia?” Doe said, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, I thought you came up with that compromise a little too quickly,” Blair said with a hint of reproach.

  “Let’s face it,” Rudy chimed in. “We made you do it, didn’t we? We wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  They all cast forlorn eyes my way, as if their favorite aunt had just died.

  “Okay,” I said in frustration. “No, I didn’t really want to run for mayor. I told you that from the beginning. But I didn’t want Dana to be mayor, either. So now both problems have been solved.”

  “Except Trudy Bascom had to die in the process,” Doe pointed out.

  “Yes,” I said with a sigh. “That’s the tragedy.”

  “And now someone has to convince Tony Morales that he wanted to run for mayor all along,” Blair said skeptically.

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “I’ve gotten to know him pretty well since he joined the library board. He has aspirations – he just needs encouragement. His physical issues make him self-conscious, that’s all.”

  For the second time that morning, the kitchen door flew open and a squat, little woman marched in.

  “Julia, did you hear about the murder at the library?”

  It was Goldie Singleton, my neighbor on the north side of the Inn. She and her husband Ben lived in a large, ramshackle home they’d built in the late Seventies. I sometimes thought they were both still living in that era. Goldie was usually draped in long skirts or baggy pants and sloppy t-shirts. She often wore a fanny pack strapped to her waist and Birkenstock sandals. Today, she was encased in cargo pants and a huge jacket made out of what looked like upholstery fabric.

  “Yes, Goldie, the police were just here,” I said, realizing that she’d come in through the back door off the breakfast room. We kept it unlocked during the day.

  Her gray eyes popped open in surprise. “Really? Why were the police here? Did they want your help again? You and the other heroes?” She sent an appreciative gaze around the room at the rest of the girls.

  “Uh…no,” I replied, hoping to downplay the hero bit. I glanced around at Rudy, not wanting to reveal what we knew to Goldie, but Rudy just shrugged as if it didn’t really matter. “Actually, I uh…”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Goldie interrupted me with a finger pointed at my chest. “You’re dating that good–looking detective.”

  I sighed. Apparently I had no secrets in this world.

  She moved to the table and lifted a cookie off the plate and proceeded to eat it like a squirrel, taking little bites around the edges at lightning speed. Even at the age of seventy-three, Goldie had enough energy to fuel a power plant.

  “Um…that’s right,” I said, realizing she’d given me an out with the bit about dating. “David stopped by to let me know about the murder since I’m on the library board. But how did you find out about it?”

  “Ben,” she said, stopping to wipe cookie crumbs off her lips. “His short wave radio buddies let me know. They’re tapped into the police radios. But I just saw that Dana Finkle leave. What the heck was she doing here?”

  “That’s what I was about to say. Actually, Dana was the real target. The woman that was killed, Trudy Bascom, was her campaign assistant and was killed by mistake.”

  Her eyes grew round again as she held the half-eaten cookie in her hand. “Wow, that’s a bad piece of luck.”

  “Yes, it’s tragic,” I said.

  To the absolute delight of the Dachshunds, Goldie began pointing at me with the cookie and dropping crumbs all over the floor.

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with the guy who’s been breaking into homes around here. You know, the guy I shot at a few weeks ago?” Goldie said. She accentuated her comment by gesturing enthusiastically with the cookie. A chocolate chip dropped to the floor and quickly disappeared.

  I considered the rash of thefts we’d had in the surrounding neighborhoods. The thief had stolen mostly small electronics like iPads and cell phones. But when the unfortunate criminal selected the Singleton’s home to visit, Goldie had run him off with her shotgun. The police were not amused, but then, Ben was retired military and held firm to his Second Amendment rights. The couple owned an arsenal of guns, one of which was an old shotgun handed down from Goldie’s father.

  “Whatever happened with that?” Rudy asked her.

  “Oh, he got away,” she said, turning to Rudy with disappointment. “He ran into those trees over by the parking lot.”

  “But what did the police say about you shooting off your rifle?” Rudy asked this cautiously, knowing she was treading on uneven ground.

  Goldie made a grimace. “First of all, it’s a Browning automatic 12-gauge shotgun that my daddy bought in 1954. And I have a right to protect my property,” she said obstinately. “So they didn’t have much to say.” She turned to me. “I wish I’d got that guy though,” she said, her gray eyes fixed in an intense glare. “Maybe that woman would be alive.”

  “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. This wasn’t some random break-in. It was very well planned.”

  “What do you mean, planned?” she said.

  “Julia,” Doe blurted, getting up and placing a hand on my shoulder. “We really need to get busy planning your campaign.”

  I looked up at her in confusion. “What? No, I…”

  “Doe is right,” Rudy jumped in. “We’re pretty busy, Goldie. You understand.”

  I saw Blair’s expression transition from confusion to one of recognition, which finally registered with me. I turned to Goldie. “Yes, you’ll have to excuse us, Goldie.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said, grabbing two more cookies off the plate. “Let me know if you need help putting up campaign signs. Ben walks all over this neighborhood anyway. See you girls later,” she said, waving the cookies in the air. Mickey and Minnie followed her trail of cookie crumbs until she disappeared through the swinging door.

  Doe gave a great sigh and dropped back into her chair, as the dogs finished cleaning up the floor. “Sorry, but I thought if I didn’t come up with something,
she’d be here all day,” Doe said.

  “And all the cookies would be gone,” Rudy lamented, reaching out for one of the last cookies on the plate.

  “I know. She’s a bit of a busybody,” I said.

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Doe said.

  “By the way, do you have some crackers?” Blair asked. “Or nuts?”’

  Blair was a diabetic, and I’d forgotten that she needed something to eat with her wine.

  “Just a sec.” I jumped up and grabbed a box of crackers from the cupboard and handed them to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, reaching in for one.

  “So how are we going to solve Trudy’s murder?” Doe asked, sipping her tea. “That is, without getting in the way of your new boyfriend?”

  “Or, Angela,” Rudy said.

  “Let’s not worry about Angela. I say we go back to basics,” I said. “Whoever killed Trudy has to be someone who not only hates Dana, but doesn’t care if they implicate me.”

  “Right,” Rudy said. “And also understands your relationship with Dana. Whoever sent that message had to be pretty sure that Dana would jump at the chance to meet you at the library, even in the middle of a storm.”

  Doe sat back down at the table and said, “But actually, what they didn’t count on was the fact that Dana would be out collecting money for her campaign. If they had, they’d know even a meeting with Julia wouldn’t drag her away from that.”

  “So, it had to be someone that isn’t close enough to Dana to know that she wasn’t home last night,” I said.

  “Right,” Doe replied. “Probably not a neighbor because a neighbor might have seen her leave. Or her husband. He would have known where she was.”

  Rudy spoke up. “We should have asked Dana who knew she’d be out campaigning last night besides Trudy.”

  I turned to the drawer in the center island and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pencil and came back to the table and sat down.

  “Okay, let’s make a plan. I’ll call Dana and ask her about that. What else have we got?”

  “We need to find out why someone would actually want her dead,” Doe said. “I mean, everybody hates her, but who would actually go to such lengths to kill her?”