A Catered Halloween (13 page)

Sean leaned forward. “Mark says it’s been closed off.”

“Bessie says it hasn’t,” said Bob.

Sean managed to bite his tongue.

Bob shifted his weight to try to get more comfortable on the sofa, a feat Sean judged impossible.

“Anyway,” Bob continued, “how could I get out of where I was? I couldn’t.”

“Marvin and I are going to check that out again after we leave here,” said Sean.

“We are?” Marvin said.

“Yes, we are,” Sean told him before turning his attention back to Bob Small. “Maybe you killed Amethyst before you got into that space.”

“I was in that hole in the ceiling for hours,” said Bob. “I needed to pee, and I couldn’t get down to do that. Go check with Mark.”

“Was he there with you all the time?” asked Sean.

“No.”

“Then he’s not a good alibi for you, and for all I know, you may have had an accomplice,” Sean said, even though he doubted it.

“Like who?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Bob glared at him. “This is ridiculous. Konrad and Curtis said you’d help me,” he protested.

“I am,” Sean insisted.

“This is your idea of help?”

“Yes.” Sean rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I need to cover all the possibilities so I can dispute them. Speaking of which, who sprang for your bail?” It was not that he didn’t know; he wanted to hear what Bob had to say.

Bob smiled for the first time. “Mark did.”

“Interesting. Did he say how come?” asked Sean.

“Because he didn’t think I did it.”

“He told Libby he thought you had.”

“My cousins went to talk to him and changed his mind. I mean, no one else was going to put up money for me. Ever since I got sentenced to Allenwood, no one in my family, except for Curtis and Konrad and a cousin who works as a manager at Burger King, will talk to me.”

Marvin coughed. Sean glanced at him.

“You’re lucky,” Marvin said to Bob. “Not many people would be so nice.”

“I know,” Bob replied. “He believes in giving people a second chance. Do you want to hear Curtis and Konrad’s new tapes?”

“Won’t they be upset if you monkey around with their machine?” Sean asked.

Bob shook his head. “I don’t see why. I know how to run it. The tapes are pretty interesting.”

“So you could hear voices?” Sean asked.

“Not voices,” Bob corrected. “Bessie.”

“Really,” Sean said.

“Well, you have to listen real hard,” Bob allowed, “but she’s there.” And he got up and went into the other room to get the tapes.

Marvin and Sean looked at each other.

“He’s probably delusional,” Marvin whispered. “I understand stress can do that to people.”

At last, Sean thought, he and Marvin had found a point they could agree on.

“At first you don’t hear anything,” Bob said as he turned the machine on, “except this noise that reminds me of the metal shop. But then—”

“You worked in a metal shop?” Sean interrupted.

“Yeah. At Allenwood. They taught me how to weld, They’ve got a really good shop there, with all the latest tools. Why are you asking?”

Sean shrugged. “No particular reason. Just making conversation.”

“I wish I liked doing it better. You can make a lot of money,” said Bob.

“I hear it’s tough,” Sean said. “But then if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be paying well.”

“True,” Bob said, and he put a finger on his lips. “Sssh. Here comes Bessie.”

Sean leaned forward and listened. All he heard was more static. Not that he was listening that carefully. His mind was preoccupied with something else.

“That was interesting,” Sean said to Marvin when they were sitting in Marvin’s vehicle again, eating the doughnuts and sipping the coffee that Curtis and Konrad had brought back.

“Are you talking about the tapes?” Marvin asked as he put the key in the ignition. “Because I didn’t hear anything.”

“No. I’m talking about the fact that Bob Small worked in a welding shop.”

“So?” Marvin asked.

“So that means he probably knows about fiber-optic laser wire. Remember I told you they use it to cut metal.”

Sean sat back and closed his eyes. He thought better that way.

B
ernie parked the van as close to the front of the historical society as she could get, turned off the ignition, and got out of the vehicle. There was no need to lock it, because no one would possibly want to steal it. As she hurried toward the door, she wondered what she’d been thinking when she decided to wear her suede over-the-knee boots on a day like today. Even though she’d put that waterproofing stuff on them that the salesman had recommended, in her experience, it never worked that well, especially not on suede.

The historical society was nice and warm.
Cozy
was the word that popped into Bernie’s head. Jeanine was sitting by the front desk, staring at the seven bags of candy laid out on it.

“You got the good stuff,” Bernie observed as she got close enough to see the kind of candy it was.

She still remembered getting two large 3 Musketeers Bars plus a Snickers bar from Mrs. Steinberg’s mother when she was in the fourth grade. It had been her best score ever, and despite her mother’s warning,
she’d eaten all three candy bars when she’d gotten home. Much to her mother’s dismay, she hadn’t gotten sick, either.

Jeanine looked up at her and grinned. “This is what comes from living in a house where my mom gave out apples each year.”

“The kids couldn’t have been happy.”

“They weren’t. We got TP’ed a lot. You think this will be enough?”

“Depends on the weather.”

“I just don’t want to be stuck eating it all.”

Bernie laughed. “The mini bars are the worst.”

“Yeah. Every time you go by the bowl, you take just one or two, and by the end of the day, the whole bowl is gone.”

“There’s always the freezer,” Bernie suggested.

“That doesn’t help someone with a major sweet tooth.”

Bernie thought of Libby. “No. I guess it wouldn’t.”

“So what brings you here? Did your dad want his View-Master back?”

“No. He’s coming for that himself.” Was that a smile on Jeanine’s face? Bernie wasn’t sure. “I’m here because I know you have a whole mass of old letters, and I’m wondering if I could take a quick look through them just to make sure there’s nothing pertaining to Bessie Osgood.”

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t, but I’ll make us some tea,” Jeanine said. “And then we’ll get started.”

“You don’t have to help,” Bernie said.

“I know I don’t, but I’d like to.” Jeanine gestured around the room. “It’s not as if I’m exactly busy.”

Five minutes later Jeanine came out, bearing a tray with two bone china teacups, a teapot, sugar and cream, and a plate of gingersnaps.

“Rosenthal,” Bernie said, looking at the pattern.

“My mother’s,” Jeanine said as she poured the tea.

Bernie took a sip. It was Indian. Oolong. The two women sat there for a few minutes, savoring their tea, before Jeanine said, “So how’s the case coming?”

Bernie shook her head. “Could be better.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Did you find anything with the View-Master?”

Now it was Jeanine’s turn to shake her head. “If there’s anything there, I don’t see it. There were just multiple shots from out the second-story windows. It’s probably Felicity’s idea of a joke.”

“Maybe I should go back and ask her,” Bernie mused, even though talking to Felicity again was not what she wanted to do. Their last conversation had made Bernie feel as if she was standing in front of Mr. Steiffer’s math class, and he was saying to her, “Just look at the board, and tell me the answer. It isn’t that difficult.” But it was to her.

Jeanine delicately placed her cup on her saucer. “You can’t ask her. She’s in the hospital.”

“With what?”

“She had a stroke. At this point, she can’t use the left side of her body or talk.”

Bernie let out a long sigh. “My father says getting old sucks.”

“It certainly does,” Jeanine replied. “Although your dad doesn’t seem to be doing too badly in that department.”

Bernie gave her a speculative look. “He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

“I figured,” Jeanine said.

She and Jeanine exchanged a woman-to-woman smile.

“Just so you know,” Bernie told her while reaching
over and grabbing a gingersnap. She took a bite and let the cookie dissolve on her tongue. “Ready?” she said when she was done eating.

“Ready,” Jeanine answered.

The two women stood up and moved to the room where the letters—officially called ephemera—were kept. Unlike the other rooms, this one was bare except for the three- and four-drawer file cabinets that lined the wall. A square wooden table sat in the center of the room.

“The chairs aren’t very comfortable,” Jeanine noted as she went over to the file cabinet on the left. “But I can’t get money to replace them. Everyone wants things done, but they don’t want to pay for them.” She laughed. “But I’m going to stay off that topic. Otherwise, I’ll be talking about it all day. Fortunately,” she told Bernie, “I’ve gone through two of the file cabinets and put them in order, so I know that nothing is misfiled. That leaves us just two to go over.” And she opened the top drawer of the farthest file cabinet on her left and pulled out three bulging files. “Here you go,” she said as she put them in front of Bernie.

Bernie eyed the files for a moment before gingerly opening up the first folder. “Are they in any particular order?” she asked hopefully.

“Not that I know of,” Jeanine said. “Organization wasn’t my predecessor’s strong point.”

“Wonderful,” Bernie muttered as she started leafing through the papers.

By the time she was done, her back was aching, her eyes were burning, and she had a headache. She’d found nothing about Bessie Osgood, but she had found a small item from the local newspaper about the closing of the Peabody School.

Bernie sat back in her chair and read it aloud. “Today, George Marak, headmaster of the Peabody School, has announced that it is with profound regret that he and the Board of Directors of the Peabody School have come to the painful decision to close the school by the end of the semester.” Bernie looked up. “There’s no mention of Marak killing himself.”

“That happened a week later.”

“Did the paper do a follow-up?”

“I believe they called the suicide an unfortunate accident.”

“You could say that.” Bernie was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Of course, they called Bessie Osgood’s murder an unfortunate accident, too.”

“Well, don’t forget that in those days people used euphemisms. Suicides were unfortunate accidents, and girls didn’t have babies out of wedlock. They went on extended trips to Europe. And married couples slept in separate beds.”

Bernie put the article back in the folder. “That place really does have bad karma.”

Jeanine stretched. “So it would seem.”

“I wonder why the article is here?”

Jeanine shrugged. “I guess someone must have thought it was of interest. I really don’t know why. As far as I can see, the things in these cabinets are random pieces of stuff, most of which should be thrown out.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I’m afraid that the moment I do, it will turn out that I’ve thrown out some irreplaceable document.”

Bernie laughed and got up. “Isn’t that always the way.”

“Well, it is in my life.” Jeanine pointed to the folder.
“Here. Take the article with you, and show it to your dad, not that there is anything in it he doesn’t already know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. That’s one piece of paper out of here.”

“I’ll send my dad over with some cupcakes for you,” Bernie told her.

Jeanine patted her hips. “Just what I need.”

Bernie tucked the article in her bag, thanked Jeanine for all her help, and walked outside.

It had stopped raining, but the sky was overcast, and the air was cold and damp. Bernie buttoned up her jacket and headed for her vehicle. She’d just gotten behind the wheel when her cell rang. It was Brandon.

“No. I can’t do a matinee,” she said.

Brandon laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Very nice. See what you get the next time you ask.”

“I’m irresistible. You can’t say no to me.”

“Talk about misplaced ego.”

“Seriously, I’m calling because Inez is here, drinking away.”

“I’ll be right over,” Bernie told him.

“And can you be a sweetie and stop on the way and get me some sugarless gum? I’m all out.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bernie said before she clicked off. But, of course, Brandon knew that she would.

Including the stop at the gas station to pick up Brandon’s gum, it took Bernie fifteen minutes to get to R.J.’s. The place was uncharacteristically empty, except for Inez, who was hunched over her drink at the bar, in the corner farthest from the door.

“She’s been here for the last thirty minutes,” Brandon told Bernie sotto voce.

Bernie nodded as she assessed Inez out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, which made the bruise on her jaw stand out. From its purplish color, Bernie judged it was two days old at the most.

Then there was Inez’s hair. Bernie shook her head as she contemplated it. It was orange, the obvious result of a bad dye job, and to make matters worse, tufts were sticking out in various directions. It looked as if Inez hadn’t taken a comb to it in two or three days. How anyone could do that to themselves, Bernie couldn’t imagine. The stained denim jacket over the grey sweatshirt Inez was wearing didn’t do anything to help the situation.

Bernie turned toward Brandon. “Well,” she told him, “she certainly doesn’t look in good shape.”

“She’s not,” Brandon said.

“Is she drunk?”

“No. But she’s getting there fast. Can I get you anything?”

Bernie grabbed a handful of peanuts and started shelling them. “A Coke will be fine.”

A moment later Brandon was back with a Coke. Bernie grabbed it and drifted down to where Inez was sitting.

“Hi,” Bernie said as she sat down next to Inez.

Inez glared at her. “What do you want?” she demanded.

Bernie cracked open a peanut and tossed the nut into her mouth. “Are you okay?” she asked after she’d swallowed.

“I’m fine.”

“Because it doesn’t seem to me as if you are.”

Inez stared into her beer for a moment and then took a drink. “Well, I am.”

“What happened to your face?”

Inez touched the side of her jaw, realized what she was doing, and quickly put her hand back on the bar. “I fell.”

“Are you sure no one hit you?”

Bernie couldn’t read the fleeting expression that ran across Inez’s face. Was it anger? Sorrow? Pleasure that someone cared enough to ask? All of them? None of them? Bernie didn’t know.

Then Inez frowned. “I got drunk, and I fell off the sofa and hit the edge of the coffee table on the way down. Satisfied?”

Bernie took a sip of her Coke. “Not really, but if that’s what you say happened, then that’s what happened.”

“That’s what I say happened.” Inez took a gulp of her beer and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Ian is a putz. You know that?”

Bernie ate another peanut and put the shell on top of a napkin. “Why is Ian a putz?”

“Because he fired me.”

Bernie didn’t say anything.

“I had a doctor’s note, too. What am I going to do now?” Inez demanded. “Who’s going to hire me?”

“No one if you don’t pull yourself together,” Bernie told her.

Inez gulped down the rest of her beer and signaled Brandon to bring another one. As he went to get it, a man and a woman came in and sat down near the door. The couple was laughing and joking. Inez looked at them with hungry eyes. After a minute or so, she wrenched her eyes away.

“We used to be like that before Amethyst,” Inez said wistfully.

Bernie knew Inez was talking about herself and her husband.

“We were really happy together,” Inez added. She watched while Brandon set her Coors down in front of her and moved on to the new customers. She poured it into her glass and took a big swallow. “Really happy. We liked each other.”

“Is that why you killed Amethyst?”

Inez wiped her lips off with the back of her hand. “A lot you know. Why would I kill her?”

“Because she destroyed your life? You just said as much.”

“Yeah. She did. But I was making her pay.”

Interesting
, Bernie thought as she took another sip of her Coke. “Is that right? And how were you doing that?”

“You don’t believe me?” Inez said.

“Well, it’s a little hard to imagine.”

“You think she was smarter than I was?”

“Well…”

“Even with my drinking, I’m still smarter then she was,” Inez growled. “Better looking, too.”

“I don’t believe it,” Bernie said, egging Inez on.

“That I was better looking?”

“No. That’s true.” Bernie remembered when Inez used to come into the shop.

“I had a better body.”

“That’s true.”

“And I dressed better.”

“I’m not disputing that. It’s the intelligence part.”

Inez looked outraged. “Hey, I have a master’s in remote sensing.”

“True, but I’m not talking about that kind of intelligence.”

Inez gave Bernie a beery, conspiratorial smile. “She was a sneaky little bitch, wasn’t she?”

Bernie popped another peanut into her mouth. “In a word, yes.”

“But I found out something she didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Really?” Bernie hoped that she had conveyed just the right amount of disbelief.

“Yes. Really. Amethyst was moving, and she didn’t want anyone to know. But I knew.”

“How did you know?”

“I heard her talking.”

Bernie maintained a skeptical expression.

“It’s true. I did,” Inez insisted.

“Where? While you were cleaning the bathroom?”

A crafty expression stole over Inez’s face. “Never you mind.”

Bernie ate another peanut. “In the supermarket? The garden store? Probably not.” Bernie contemplated the options some more. “Did you clean her house?”

Inez looked at her in astonishment.

“You cleaned her house? I don’t believe it,” said Bernie.

“Believe it,” Inez snarled.

“Given the circumstances, I find that hard to believe.”