Advertisement for Murder

by Nadine Doolittle

  “What was it?”

  “I smelled freesias right before the attack. I remember thinking what a lovely scent and then I realized it was too late for freesias. Maybe I imagined it?”

  They made some more polite conversation and then Karen moved on and Avery and Elliot secured a table on the patio. He would’ve preferred to sit inside, but Avery couldn’t bear to lose sight of the glorious fall day even for one hour.

  “Besides,” she said, “we might run into someone else and who knows what we’ll learn. That little conversation with Karen just gave us a new lead! We have to talk to Frank Zwick. He figures in this somehow. Strange that we never thought of him before. He was at the party that night. He could’ve done it.”

  “Many people ‘could’ve done it,’ Mrs Holmes. We need motive. What was Mr Zwick’s motive for killing Jenny Blake?”

  Avery ordered a clubhouse sandwich and fries while Elliot fussed over the soup—a perfectly harmless potato and leek. The waitress was extraordinarily patient in answering his many, many questions concerning its preparation and at last the order was placed.

  “He could’ve had a crush on her and killed her out of jealousy,” Avery said, picking up the conversation where they had left off. “Karen said Jenny could’ve had any boy she wanted. She was pretty and popular. Maybe Frank got tired of being overlooked. Or maybe his motive was as Josie described—a team player defending his captain’s honour. It sounds like he and Duncan are still tight. There could be a reason for that.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about Mrs Haggerty?”

  “Aside from being traumatized by an attempt on her life? No.”

  “She was wearing the same coat she had on the day of the attack. I’m surprised the police didn’t take it for forensic examination.”

  “You’re assuming a municipal police force has the budget for that sort of thing. Local police do what they can. The idea is to prevent crime thereby saving tax dollars on lengthy investigations.” Avery leaned her elbows on the table. “But I noticed she got a funny look on her face when you asked her if she’d been followed. It was as if she hadn’t thought of that before.”

  “That was my impression too. The freesias were interesting.”

  Their food arrived before she could ask him why and for the next half hour Avery was treated to the sight of Elliot pondering his soup and side order of bread like they were pathogens under a microscope.

  A voice cried out from across the street. “I have found you at last! I’ve been to both your houses and here you are not five minutes away from where I started. No matter—I have news.”

  Josephine Gaskell zigzagged through traffic to reach the patio, then dragged up a chair and sat down, slightly out of breath. She signalled the waitress by name and minutes later a pot of tea and an egg salad sandwich was set in front of her. “I know her mother,” Josie said with a wink. Her iron grey hair had worked free of its clip. Her face was shiny and her black eyes were bright.

  Avery leaned in. “What’s your news?”

  “I’ve been to see Ida.” Josie paused to take a swig of tea. “And it was well worth the visit, let me tell you. I pressed her to talk about the night of the murder. I’m not clever like some of you, but in my career, I’ve nursed plenty of miserable people and I know how to manage them. Sometimes they need a sympathetic ear and sometimes they need a swift kick. Ida Greb got the latter. I told her—no more nonsense! She was at that party and I knew it! I told her to tell me what was she hiding or else I’d go to the police. Karen Haggerty had been attacked in the same way as Jenny and Ida was a suspect.”

  “You said that?” Avery was filled with admiration.

  “I did. Poor thing, she completely fell apart. She told me she’d snuck into the back yard, mostly to spy on Jenny Blake. She wanted revenge and phase one of her plan was to get dirt on her that she could spread all over the school. You know what teenage girls are like. The back yard was dark; she couldn’t be seen. She was about to sneak up to the house when the kitchen door flew open and girl rushed out in tears. A boy followed her and for a few minutes, Ida couldn’t make out who they were or what they were saying. And then she heard the boy’s voice quite clearly. It was Duncan Carmichael.”

  “And the girl?”

  Josie shook her head. “Ida couldn’t say. She only knew this for certain—whoever she was, she wasn’t Jenny Blake. I asked her—how could you be so certain? Because it was Ida Greb who informed Jenny Blake her boyfriend was cheating on her with another girl!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  VERONICA WAKEFIELD-BRICE was not amused, nor was she impressed by Pearl Hansen’s ‘pluck’ or whatever they were calling obnoxious behaviour in young women these days.

  The girl was perched on the edge of Veronica’s best sofa in the living room—a silly name for a room so seldom lived in. The reporter, Pearl, had taken it upon herself to bombard Veronica with questions about a time Pearl knew nothing about and could not comprehend.

  “But if Mrs Haggerty was in love with Mr Carmichael, why didn’t they wind up together?”

  She winced at the girl’s use of the vernacular. “Because Duncan had fallen in love with my friend, Penelope Beresford, that’s why. They were in university together whereas Karen had never left St. Ives. Duncan Carmichael was ambitious. He needed a wife who could advance his career. Something young people don’t think about nowadays.”

  Veronica deliberately looked away, leaving the statement to hang in the air. Miss Hansen was utterly ill-suited for her son. Solomon had assured her that the girl was nothing more than a co-worker and Veronica had no choice but to take him at his word. Furthermore, her cowardly father was forcing her to leave the Herald, thus severing even that relationship. That is what Solomon promised and that is what Veronica expected.

  “Karen graduated from high school with the rest of her class, despite being pregnant for most of her senior year. St. Ives is a liberal school,” she added with a measure of distaste.

  “I heard Mrs Haggerty married the father of her baby so it’s not like she expected Duncan Carmichael to marry her. What was his issue with staying friends with her?”

  “I wasn’t aware Duncan had issues,” Veronica said repressively. “All I know is that he came home Thanksgiving weekend to tell his parents he was engaged to Penelope. And somehow—I heard the story from Penelope so it’s not gossip—somehow,” she continued, “Karen heard through the grapevine that he was in town and she corralled him at a party. She’d had the baby by then. I can’t remember her name. The father had left—abandoned both mother and daughter soon after the child was born. We’d all turned twenty and were getting on with our lives and careers. I suppose Karen felt stuck in St. Ives, trapped with a toddler and living in her parent’s house. It sounds awful, doesn’t it, Solomon?”

  Her son’s head snapped up and he looked around as though he was astonished to find himself sitting in his own home.

  “I’m sorry, Mother? Could you repeat that?”

  She smiled fondly. “It isn’t important.” She turned to Pearl. The message was not lost on her. “Where was I?”

  “Thanksgiving. Mrs Haggerty’s horrible life.”

  “Duncan had to tell her. He had no choice. She was more or less throwing herself at him, as though they were still in high school. Right then and there, he told her to grow up and stop pestering him. He had loved her once, but it never meant anything, not really. He wasn’t being cruel; he was being honest.” She gave Pearl a meaningful look. “Young love is nothing more than raging hormones. Duncan said he was engaged to be married. There was no hope for a future with him and there never was.”

  Veronica let that sink in before continuing. “Karen seemed to take it well, possibly because they were at a party and she had to save face. She offered her congratulations and wished him joy. It was remarkably pleasant and Duncan felt, at last, Karen Haggerty was behind him.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Pearl interrupted.

  Veronica
exhaled through her teeth. Was she going to have to explain everything? “He meant that he wasn’t seventeen anymore. Karen had trouble letting go of the past. She thought she had a claim on Duncan simply because he was her boyfriend in high school. For some girls, high school represents the best years of their lives.” She eyed Pearl keenly. “As I said, Karen was unstable. Well, what else would you call it? A girl like that believing for a moment that she was suitable for a boy like Duncan....”

  Veronica detected a faint blush of colour rise in Pearl’s cheeks.

  “Okay, Mother, we get it,” Solomon interjected. “Pearl and I have to get back to the office and so far you haven’t told us anything that suggests Mrs Haggerty is unstable.”

  Mrs Wakefield-Brice observed that Pearl’s fingers had been gripping her pen tightly but when Solomon spoke, her hand visibly relaxed. Her son meant something to Pearl Hansen no matter what lies he may tell himself about their relationship.

  “Then I’ll get to the point,” she said briskly. “Some strange things happened that made us wonder if Karen was really over Duncan after all. Some ‘peculiar’ things, we’ll call them, for the sake of libel laws. Penelope became a regular visitor to St. Ives after their engagement was announced in the Haldimand Herald. The first incident occurred shortly thereafter. She drove a powder blue VW Bug convertible in those days. One day she came out of the bookstore to find the canopy had been slashed. There were no witnesses but she knew Karen had done it. Insurance covered the repair of the car and she let it go. The next time she came to St. Ives someone spray-painted ‘Die Bitch’ on the stone wall opposite the Regent where she was staying. She could see it from her room. The police didn’t take it seriously, of course.”

  “And she thought Karen had done that too?”

  Veronica folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “My friend is no fool. She knew Karen was responsible. Karen had told her so—not in so many words, but in the way she smiled at Penelope whenever she walked into a room. Karen seemed to be everywhere, stalking her like prey. She told me about shopping for her trousseau and finding Karen in the shop, browsing through a rack of wedding dresses. It made poor Penelope’s hair stand on end.”

  “That’s very interesting, Mrs Wakefield-Brice. I think it’s a good story. Um, I’m just not clear what it has to do with recent events involving Mrs Haggerty. Mr and Mrs Carmichael have been married for a long time. Mrs Haggerty is the school secretary, a respected member of the community. I can see her acting out when she was younger, feeling like she’d been jilted for another girl, but she obviously got over it.”

  “Really? That only shows how little you know of human nature,” Veronica said frostily. “Penelope has filed for divorce. Their marriage has inexplicably come to an end and Penelope won’t say why. Going in different directions is the usual explanation. At our age, that seems unlikely. Duncan is making a bid for mayor in a few weeks. His star is on the rise. A divorce makes no sense. Until one remembers that Karen visited Duncan at his office shortly before she was attacked. And then a few days later Penelope decides to end her forty-year marriage. I’ll leave it to you to figure out how these two events are connected.”

  Pearl turned to Solomon, thoroughly bewildered. “Duncan went back to Karen?”

  “Doubtless that was Karen’s intention when she suddenly recalled a detail from the attack that managed to incriminate Duncan’s wife!”

  “What kind of detail?”

  “She told Detective Denton she smelled freesias which is impossible at this time of year. Penelope wears freesia perfume. Karen even helped the detective by saying the scent reminded her of Mrs Carmichael’s perfume and the fool believed her! Penelope was questioned last night—taken to the station like a common criminal. There’s no justice in the law. It would be very easy to frame her for the crime. She has no alibi and it could be argued that she has motive. Karen has hinted on occasion that her daughter is not Frank’s child.”

  “She’s not?”

  “Of course she is! That is Karen Haggerty’s idea of a joke—a tasteless joke that Penelope has tolerated long enough. She’s getting a divorce and leaving St. Ives and I don’t blame her a bit. She has to protect herself from being accused of attempted murder. The only way to do that is to get as far away from Duncan as possible. Don’t think for a moment that Karen wouldn’t do it! That type will do anything to get ahead. I told you—unbalanced.”

  SOLOMON SAID little on the car ride back to the office, being too humiliated to speak. He chose the grim, silent treatment, feeling that somehow, in some way, Pearl Hansen was to blame for his mother’s insinuations and embarrassing asides. Veronica obviously believed Pearl had designs on him. Whatever gave her that idea, he could only guess. Hansen usually ignored him.

  There was no ignoring him now. They were both mortified.

  “Your mother really hates Karen Haggerty, huh?” Her eyes were fixed on the window.

  “She’s never talked about her before so I can’t say how she feels about her. That stuff about the attempt to frame Mrs Carmichael is pure supposition. We can’t use any of it in the story.”

  “I know that,” Pearl snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”

  His jaw clenched. “Look, I’m sorry about the all the rest of the crap she was saying. She goes off like that from time to time. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean I’ve been talking about you or telling her things about work.”

  “Telling her things like how I won’t leave you alone and have dreams above my station? What year does she think this is anyway? I never once gave you any indication I was interested in you romantically! Where did she get the idea I was?”

  “I don’t know,” he said evenly. “I told you. She’s nuts.”

  “That’s the male excuse for everything women do—she’s nuts. Karen is nuts, your mother is nuts. Has it occurred to you that you men are making us nuts?”

  He didn’t answer that. “Do you want to follow up the Haggerty story with me or not? A simple yes or no will do.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was laced with ice. “I am a professional. I don’t let my personal feelings get in the way of a story. I think we should talk to Mr Marks and Avery. Maybe they noticed something when they interrupted the attack on Mrs Haggerty. I’m sort of shocked that hasn’t been done already.”

  Solly bristled. “I’ve had a lot on my plate—and you stopped coming into the office because your father disapproved! So much for professionalism! Can I count on you to see this through or are you going to leave me high and dry? I’ve got to cover the Little Theatre’s opening tomorrow night and I can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she said stubbornly.

  “What about your father?”

  “I’ll deal with my father.” She chewed her lip. “I wish one of us had gone to the meeting last night. We don’t know where they are in the investigation. Mrs Haggerty probably hated Penelope but I don’t think anyone has the power to break up a couple unless one member of that couple wants to break up. What I mean is—I think the fracture was already there, you know? Mrs Haggerty might’ve put some pressure on it, but she didn’t cause the fracture.”

  Solly mulled this over. “I think you’re right.”

  “Your mom is a real piece of work by the way.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

  Pearl snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled.

  HECTOR LOWERED his weary body to a seat at the back of the auditorium where it was dark and his wife was unlikely to spot him taking a break. He’d been painting and pounding and cutting and lifting since nine o’clock in the morning. Joyce might enjoy the maniacal process of staging a musical—he did not. Give him order. And a chance to sit down for five minutes.

  He crossed his arms over he chest and stretched out his legs. Hector leaned his head back against the worn velour seat and closed his eyes.

  A rustle of movemen
t alerted him that someone had sat down directly behind him.

  “I was hoping I would find you here. That’s your wife directing, isn’t it?”

  Hector didn’t turn his head. “Hello, Councillor Carmichael. Yes, that’s my wife. She roped me into joining the stage crew today.” He kept his voice friendly, remembering what Sutcliffe had said about watching his back around the councillor.

  “She’s good. She strikes me as being very efficient. My wife, Penelope, is the same.” He rested his arms on the back of the seat and leaned in. “So, after you guys visited my office, I did a little digging. You were easy to get background on: a retired captain, Royal Canadian Navy with a flawless record. Elliot Marks was a different story. It’s like the man doesn’t exist.”

  “Not everyone subscribes to social media. He exists in the real world.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I have pretty good connections in the government and I couldn’t find anything on anyone going by that name.”

  “What is it you want, councillor?”

  “I’m here to give you a heads up. I told Karen Haggerty everything. She had a right to know—she’s affected by this as well. She came to my office at my invitation and we had a good long talk. Now listen to this because I’m only going to say it once. Karen remembers going after Jenny and hearing her on the on the phone with Jesse. She said it wasn’t the kind of news she wanted to break to a friend. So what she did is this. She went upstairs and hung around outside the bedroom door, trying to think of how she was going to tell me.”

  Carmichael leaned in. “Karen is willing to sign a sworn affidavit to that effect. It was impossible for me to have left the bedroom without her knowing about it. So you can pass that message along to your friend and tell him that this stops now. Mrs Haggerty barely survived an attempt on her life and that idiot, Detective Denton, suspects my wife of the attack!”