Elected for Death

by Valerie Wolzien

  “No. He never suggested it. And I wouldn’t have anyway. I loved him, but I also love and respect both Anthony and my marriage to him.”

  “You’re a wise woman,” Erika commented a little grimly.

  “I’ve been a fool,” Theresa said angrily. “I was a fool to fall for Ivan, to be so upset by his death, to drink so much and do such foolish things this week.” She slammed a full teapot onto the stove as an exclamation point.

  Susan opened her mouth and then closed it again. How could she ask this unhappy woman if she had murdered Ivan Deakin? And what would she do if Theresa said yes?

  Erika solved the problem for her. “Do you have any idea who killed Ivan?” she asked quietly.

  “I thought for a while that Anthony must have done it.” Theresa turned back to her guests. “Susan knows that. I even went over to her house and slobbered on and on about it. I was drunk,” she said to Susan, “but not drunk enough to forget that—unfortunately. But I have thought and thought about it. And not only is Anthony just not a murderer, but he couldn’t have killed Ivan. He was upstairs at the Women’s Club when Ivan died. And if I hadn’t been drinking so hard, I would have realized that earlier.”

  “True,” Susan muttered. But was it? The murderer only had to put poison in the pitcher, he didn’t have to stand around and make sure Ivan actually drank from it. And could Anthony have left the poison, gone upstairs to pretend to listen to the speech, waited for Ivan to die, dashed back downstairs, and switched the speeches right before the police collected them? To Susan, it sounded like a pretty athletic evening—as well as one that depended upon a lot of uncontrollable factors—the lights going out, Ivan drinking the water before he read the speech, being on hand to exchange speeches at the right moment. She shook her head. If that’s what the murderer had planned on, he or she had been damn lucky things worked out the way they did. The opportunities to foul up were legion.

  “But I was at your home more than once, wasn’t I?” Theresa continued. “The other time I hid that damn speech in your dog’s cage.”

  “It’s a run,” Susan corrected her absently.

  “Wait a second!” Erika cried. “Are you talking about Ivan’s speech?”

  “Ivan’s speech? No, I’m talking about the speech my husband was going to make that slandered Bradley Chadwick.”

  Susan looked around the messy kitchen. There were empty ice-cube trays sitting on top of the microwave oven. Garbage overflowed its plastic pail and fell to the floor. Cookbooks were lying on the counter, still covered with a heavy coating of flour from a baking project. Maybe it was the environment, but she was becoming very, very confused. “Tell me about this speech that ended up in my dog run. Please.”

  “Well, I read all of Anthony’s speeches—I’ve even helped him draft some of them—but this one …” She paused and looked at the other two women. “This one was different.”

  “You said it slandered Bradley Chadwick,” Susan reminded her.

  Theresa opened her eyes wide. “It did. I couldn’t believe it. It accused him of all sorts of improprieties.”

  “Such as?” Erika prompted.

  “Such as investing in all the towns around here in properties that would become substantially more valuable if he got elected, and being willing to give the Landmark Commission the power they want to have. There was a substantial list that included shopping centers, two apartment buildings, and I can’t remember what else.”

  Susan nodded slowly, remembering the shopping center that had been built in a neighboring town when the plans for the lumberyard fell through. “Interesting,” she said. “We were thinking that only investments in property here in Hancock were going to be affected by the election, but that’s not true at all, is it? What isn’t allowed to be built here will very possibly be built nearby.”

  “It’s an interesting thought, isn’t it?” Erika agreed. “Anything else?” she asked Theresa.

  “The speech claimed that Dr. Chadwick and Mrs. Thomas—Penelope—had been in collusion and that it was really Bradley Chadwick who was running the Landmark Commission, not Penelope.”

  “Maybe it’s all true. Why are you so sure this is slander?” Erika asked.

  “Because when I asked Anthony about it, he said that as far as he knew, none of it was true.” Theresa was looking into mugs, apparently hoping to find some that had been washed recently.

  “I’m getting confused,” Susan announced. “You’re saying you read a speech that your husband wrote. That it said all these things about Bradley Chadwick, and that when you asked your husband about it, he said he had been writing lies?”

  “I asked him about the stories, not the speech,” Theresa answered, pouring water over the tea bags in mugs and passing them out.

  “And he said they weren’t true. But did he explain why he had written the speech?” Erika asked.

  “Of course not,” Susan said, putting down her mug. “Because Anthony didn’t write the speech. Ivan Deakin did.”

  Theresa puckered her brow and thought about that one. “Ivan Deakin?” She looked confused. “I just assumed Anthony had written it, but maybe … It was certainly more Ivan’s style than Anthony’s. It was almost inflammatory.”

  “No one would ever call your husband inflammatory,” Susan agreed.

  “But that doesn’t explain why I found it in my purse. How would a speech that Ivan wrote end up in my purse? He was up on the podium. I never got close to him that night.”

  “You found the speech in your purse the night that Ivan was killed?” Susan asked.

  “Yes. When I stopped at the bar on the way home—I was getting cigarettes, not a drink. I drank a lot, but I didn’t drink and drive—I don’t think.” She frowned.

  “And when you opened your purse, there was the speech waiting for you?”

  Theresa nodded. “Yes, folded up neatly. I just assumed Anthony had put it there. He’s always stuffing things in my purse—sunglasses, his cellular phone. You know.”

  Susan did. Jed seemed to think that her purse was common property, too.

  “Well, I listened to the radio all the way home. I wanted to learn whatever there was to know about Ivan’s murder. But when I got home, I read the speech and was shocked. The next day I asked Anthony about the accusations concerning Dr. Chadwick—and he said he had never heard anything so outrageous and that I should be very careful not to slander Chadwick. I—I was stunned.”

  “Of course, because you thought he had written that speech,” Susan said slowly. “But it wasn’t Anthony’s speech. It was the one that Ivan was going to give the night he was killed. It was the speech that was going to blow up the Landmark Commission—and, in fact, probably give the election to Ivan Deakin.”

  “So how did it end up in Theresa’s purse?” Erika asked. “And then buried in your dog run?”

  “Yes, how?” Theresa asked.

  “Someone must have put it in your purse—and you buried it in Clue’s run, didn’t you?” Susan reminded her.

  “It’s not that simple. You see, the damn thing just kept reappearing. First it was in my purse. And then, after Anthony said the stories were wrong, I threw it away—at least I thought I threw it away. But the next day I was driving down the road, opened my purse for a cigarette, and there it was again. I—well, I had been drinking a lot and I just figured I was having some short-term-memory problems. But I thought I tossed it on the floor of my backseat—I can actually remember twisting my shoulder when I did it. But then, when I was at your house that day, there it was again, in my purse.”

  “So you buried it?”

  “No, I didn’t do that. Your dog did. I just waved it at him … her?”

  “Her,” Susan said.

  “Her … to keep her away from me, and she grabbed it. And you yourself had said that she was always eating tissues and pieces of paper towels. So when she took it from me, I just figured she would eat it. But then she turned and started digging a hole and you called me.” Theresa shrugged. �
��The last time I saw the speech, your dog was hiding it in the dirt. I was so glad to get rid of it that I never thought of it again. Until today.”

  Susan took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s possible that Anthony put Ivan’s speech in your purse?”

  Theresa took a sip of her tea, bag still in the mug, and thought. “I don’t see how. I saw Anthony for just a few minutes after Ivan was killed—less than a few minutes, in fact. And I had my purse in my hand the entire time.”

  “Was it a shoulder bag?” Erika asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And do you remember if you had it on your shoulder the entire time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I usually hang my purse over the back of my chair,” Susan suggested.

  “I don’t—no, I do remember. Because the room was so crowded and Anthony and I got there really early. I thought there would be empty seats and so I dumped my purse and coat on the chair next to mine.”

  “Where did you sit?”

  “Right near the front of the room. I was there early,” Theresa repeated.

  “But your coat and purse were moved before Ivan appeared—when the crowd came in.”

  “Yes. And I either put my purse on the back of my chair—or just stuck it on the floor under my seat.” She looked around the room apologetically. “I’m not a very neat person, I’m afraid.”

  “Purses are always a problem. Did you see anyone around your purse? Or looking like they might be putting something into it?”

  Theresa frowned. “Not that I remember. But it was so confusing—especially after the lights went out and the speech was canceled.”

  “What do you remember about that evening?” Susan asked.

  “Well, we got there early—I told you that—and Anthony went right upstairs. He wanted to be there to greet the other people on his ticket. I went right in to find a seat downstairs.” She looked down at the center of her kitchen table as though examining the pile of mail that seemed to be a permanent centerpiece. “I was, I admit, anxious to see Ivan.”

  “Did you talk to anyone? Do you remember who sat down nearby?” Susan asked.

  “I spoke with dozens of people—maybe more. Since Anthony began his campaign, everyone in town thinks they own a piece of my time.”

  “I know what you mean,” Susan agreed.

  “And who was sitting near you?” Erika insisted on sticking to the point.

  “Neighbors on either side.”

  “And who behind?” Susan asked, thinking of the purse strung over the chair back.

  Theresa shrugged. “I don’t know. And almost anyone could have walked by my chair after the speech was canceled and stuck the pages in my purse. That place was mayhem. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

  “It’s okay,” Susan said. “I think there’s only one person who could be orchestrating this thing.”

  “The murder?”

  “The murder. The cover-up. The election. The Landmark Commission. Everything,” Susan said.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “It’s not much of a victory party when the opposition candidate bowed out of the election almost twenty-four hours ago,” Kathleen said, handing Susan a fresh glass of champagne.

  “It’s hard to run for mayor when you and your wife have been arrested for murder,” Susan answered, a wide smile on her face. “And I think you’re wrong. This is one of the best parties I’ve ever given. If this election had gone down to the wire, I’d be exhausted. As it is, both Jed and I got a wonderful night’s sleep last night and I spent all day today puttering around, getting the house in order, and preparing for our guests tonight.” She took a long sip from the slender goblet. “I haven’t been this relaxed in weeks.”

  “How did it feel to cast a vote for a Henshaw?” Kathleen asked.

  “Fabulous. And, of course, it’s wonderful to vote for someone you know is going to win. That’s not usually true for me in national and state politics these days.”

  “What is happening outside of Hancock this evening? Any election results in yet?”

  “I have no idea. There’s a large group around the television in the living room, but I’ve voted and I can wait until tomorrow to find out whether or not I was in the majority. Tonight I’m doing nothing but relaxing and celebrating.” She drained her glass and leaned back against the window behind her.

  The Anthony Martel victory party had been going on for two hours now and Susan and Kathleen had just found a quiet place to sit, tucked away on a window seat in Jed’s study.

  “Theresa looks better, doesn’t she?”

  “Not drinking, I hope?” Susan asked.

  “I think she’s gone on the wagon. She was sipping Perrier the last time I passed by.”

  “If only she had done that a few weeks ago …” Susan shook her head ruefully. “It sure would have made things easier.”

  “For you, but not for Cassandra Chadwick.”

  “True. Cassandra benefited from Theresa’s drunkenness. Although I think killing Ivan and switching his speech with the one that she and her husband had made up was a pretty gutsy thing to do. And it was brilliant to stash Ivan’s speech in Theresa’s purse like she did.”

  “Hmm. I’d love to know if she planned that or if she just noticed Theresa’s purse and took advantage of a God-given opportunity,” Kathleen mused.

  “She sure must have recognized that Theresa’s drinking made it possible to manipulate her. I mean, it was one thing to stick the speech in Theresa’s purse, but to move it when Theresa finally thought she had gotten rid of the damn thing was almost genius.”

  “When did you realize Cassandra was behind all that?”

  “Cassandra,” Susan answered, exasperation in her voice, “was behind everything. She was on local TV shows, fed stories to Tom Davidson and to every reporter from here to Hartford to New York City. She was the person who spoke with our neighbor about Jed not picking up after the dog and then fed the story to the newspaper. It was easy for her to do because she was so busy getting all the good publicity she could for her husband. She put the fake blood on Erika’s bed and then—stupidly—put some on one of Jed’s coats in my car.”

  “Why was that stupid?”

  “Because she was trying to scare me off. She knew the police would check it out and discover that it wasn’t real blood, but she thought she could fool me—first into thinking it was blood and then into believing that Jed might have had something to do with Erika’s disappearance. Of course, I would never believe Jed had anything to do with a murder. Besides, she risked being seen both at my car and at Erika’s carriage house.”

  “Not at the carriage house. I think Brett worked very hard to keep everyone—including his own officers—away from the carriage house.”

  “And Erika,” Susan agreed.

  The two women were silent for a few moments. “You know,” Susan began quietly, “Brett really screwed up this one.”

  Kathleen nodded. “He sure did.”

  “If he had properly sealed the crime scene as soon as he arrived at the Women’s Club, the speech would have been found immediately and everyone would have realized that only Bradley Chadwick had a reason to want Ivan Deakin dead before he had a chance to deliver that speech.”

  “Has he said anything to you about that?” Kathleen asked.

  “No. Actually, that’s the reason I thought he might appear tonight.”

  “Any word from Erika?”

  “Yes. She called this morning and said thank you for all that I’d done to help her. And then this afternoon that fabulous bouquet that’s in the middle of the dining-room table was sent out from her store.”

  “Nice.”

  “You know, it is. The only person who’s been calling is Tom Davidson. He’s planning what he called ‘extensive coverage’ of the murder and now the arrest—and later a trial.”

  “We must know someone who works for a network,” Kathleen said. “It’s time we got that young man a job in the city. His enthus
iasm is wasted here.”

  “Good idea. There will be more dirt for him to report on there.”

  “Well, maybe not more, but it probably won’t be about people you know well,” Kathleen said, draining her glass and smiling at her friend.

  “True, and that will be a relief,” Susan agreed as Jerry and Jed wandered into the room, full glasses in their hands.

  “So, congratulations,” Susan said, leaning across the pile of dirty glasses to kiss her husband. “You’re going to be a wonderful councilman. And I’m sure Anthony Martel will be an excellent mayor—the man is always working. I even overheard him talking with our guests tonight, asking them to serve on committees.”

  “Oh, he’s hardworking all right.” Jed bent down to drop silverware in the dishwasher and she couldn’t see his face. “You know, all the council men and women head committees or act as liaisons to different departments in Hancock.”

  “I know. You thought you were going to be asked to work on some new public-relations schemes, didn’t you? You’d be so good at that. And with your background in advertising, you certainly have more experience than any of the other councilmen.”

  “But that’s not the committee that I’m going to run. In fact, I’m not going to run any committee.” He stood up and looked at Susan. “You will never believe what task Anthony has asked me to take on. Something more up your alley than mine, I’m afraid.”

  Susan thought furiously, not speaking for a few minutes. “Something to do with the schools?”

  “No, something that has taken up your time more recently than the PTA.”

  Susan was completely perplexed. “Jed, tell me. What?”

  “I’m going to be liaison from the Hancock Town Council to the Hancock Police Department. It seems that Anthony was very impressed with the relationship between our family and the chief of police.”

  “Oh …” Susan said, her heart sinking. This wasn’t what Jed had wanted to do.

  “And he made one request.”