Fete Worse Than Death (9781101595138) (19 page)

“We haven’t heard from the fraud unit,” Carol Ann
said. “I don’t trust anybody in your pay, Marge Schmidt. You’d just as soon bribe somebody as look at them. I may not be Mrs. Richer Than God like some people, but I’m somebody in this town. I say we wait for the fraud unit to report back to us.”

Althea made a rude noise. “Phooey. It’ll take the fraud unit twenty years to get back to you on this one, and I’ve got a fiver in my pocket that they’ll tell you exactly what Marge just did.” She slapped a five-dollar bill down on the table with a flourish. Nobody picked it up. She waved the file at them. “There’s not enough evidence to hang a cat in here, much less Adela Henry. I’ll tell you what you do. You put in a claim on your village insurance policy for the hundred thou or so and cross your fingers that your agent doesn’t hang you out to dry.”

“The insurance!” Elmer said. “Thank the good Lord. I forgot about the insurance. Reverend, it’s a miracle.”

“Perhaps not for Mrs. Schmidt-Peterson,” Dookie said mildly.

Althea gave a shout of laughter. “No kidding! You carry the town policy, Marge?” One look at Marge’s expression confirmed it. “Well, damn. Sorry about that. Your loss ratio is going to stink this year.” She slapped Marge on the shoulder. “And you did it to yourself. It’s true, isn’t it? No good deed goes unpunished.”

Quill bit her lip…Pique, rue, and a certain amount of humor warred in Marge’s face. She wanted to make a grab for her sketch pad but didn’t dare.

Althea re-draped her scarves over her shoulder. “Have we got all the fete committee members here? We do? Reverend Shuttleworth? Would you care to second any
motion I’m going to make to reinstate Mrs. Henry to the position of chairperson of the fall fete?”

“I would indeed, Mrs. Quince.”

Quill felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She raised her hand. “I’d be more than happy to second that motion as well.”

“That’s a happy ending there,” Althea said, when they had left the meeting and were once more in the parking lot. She and Quill both watched as Carol Ann peeled onto Maple with an angry squeal of tires. “Carol Ann’s little cabal’s been squashed and the fete will go on as planned with Adela in charge. Very satisfying.”

“But why?” Quill said.

“Do you mean why was the fete’s bank account targeted? Who knows? These big-time hackers plant roaming bugs in the management information systems of all the big banks if they can. One of the hazards of doing business in the twenty-first century.”

“The Hemlock Falls Savings and Loan isn’t a big bank. It’s a little local bank. And why just that account? Mark Anthony Jefferson hasn’t said anything about any other money being stolen, has he?”

Althea shrugged. “Not that I know of, no. You don’t know these hackers, Quill. There’s a lot of different ways to raid a system. You’ll probably never know why. It’s done. Let’s forget it. We’ve got a murder to solve.”

“I think the two crimes are linked.”

“How could they be?!” She cocked her head and sucked her lower lip, deep in thought. “I’ll tell what’s going on. You’re an artist. You look at objects, people, things, whatever, and you see a pattern that nobody else can see. You put it on canvas and wham! Suddenly everyone else sees it, too. This is different. This is real people doing real stuff and real stuff is random.”

“Maybe,” Quill said doubtfully. “I don’t trust coincidence, myself.”

“Happens all the time. Your guys are doing the right thing sending this off to the fraud unit. You should be happy this is settled. The town gets its money back. Adela’s back on point with the fete. Case closed. On to the next one—the mysterious murder of your event coordinator. Shall we go talk to cops now? See what we can shake out of them? Or maybe we can go out to Peterson Automotive so I can sneak that laptop back into Brady’s office.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” Quill said earnestly. “Maybe we could put the investigation on hold for today? I really have to see Howie Murchison about a legal matter. Why don’t you and Nolan take the day off? Maybe go on one of the winery tours. You’ve been so involved with helping with the fete, you two haven’t had any vacation at all. Nolan is just a dear man. I hate to say it, Althea, but you’ve been leaving him alone an awful lot, lately.”

Althea raised her head and inhaled the fresh spring air. “You know, you’re right. It’s a lovely day and Nolan would love a drive. No need to take me up to the Inn. I’ll walk on down to the coffee shop and give Nolan a call. He can swoop down and carry me off to a wine tasting. We’ll make a nice afternoon of it. You go see what you can coax
out of Davy Kiddermeister. Might be a lot easier with me somewhere else, anyway. It’s in that direction? Balzac Café?”

“Just one block down and turn right.”

Quill waited until Althea disappeared down the block, locked the Honda, and then walked around to the rear of the municipal building to the sheriff’s office. Davy’s cruiser was parked in its reserved spot. She hoped Davy was in and not tied up in traffic court.

The main entrance was a heavy metal fire door. A tiny window, heavily barred, let a small amount of light into the office proper. Quill dragged the door open and went in.

She always felt a stab of nostalgia in the place. It wasn’t that much different from other sheriff’s offices throughout upstate and central New York, but it was where she’d first met Myles, all those years ago. The floor was industrial-grade vinyl and smelled like Pine-Sol. The dispatcher’s desk was up front. Behind it, past a hip-high wooden barrier that reminded her of a baby guard, was Myles’s old steel desk, with Davy in Myles’s chair instead of Myles himself.

“Hey, Davy.”

“Hey, Quill.

“Where’s your dispatcher?”

“Early lunch. You heard about Marge’s computer tech?”

“The fete account got hacked by a hacker or hackers unknown. Yes, I heard about it. Do you think that’s what really happened?”

“Why not? Hacking’s got the fastest rising crime rate in the nation. No reason why it can’t happen here. Case
isn’t closed, but as far as I’m concerned, it’ll wrap when the fraud unit in Albany gets back to me. Nothing else for either one of us to do except wait.” He propped his feet up on the desk and grinned at her. “Now, there wouldn’t be any other reason why you’re here, would there?”

She knew that look. “Myles called you, didn’t he?”

“Not called, no. I got a pretty pointed e-mail, though.”

A metal folding chair stood next to the gate in the wooden barricade. Quill grabbed the chair and sat down. “He probably told you he was interested in the name of Linda Connelly’s associates.”

“That he did. He said he shouldn’t have asked you to check the names out. He also said…”

Quill held her hand up. “I can guess what he said. I’m not investigating this murder.”

“Good.”

“But I’d just like the answers to a couple of questions.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” She thought of Marge’s comment—was it only two days ago?—something funny’s going on in the village. “I’ve just come from a meeting of the fete committee. Adela’s back in.”

“Good.” He slapped the manila file folder that lay in front of him. “Marge e-mailed a copy of her tech guy’s report to me this morning, first thing. I sent it on to Albany. I don’t really understand this stuff, to tell you the truth, but Marge said Adela’s probably in the clear. Unless Albany tells me I have enough to push the case further, it’s going in the pending dismissal file. I figure I’ll hear from them, oh, maybe next year sometime at the earliest.”

“But Adela’s still under a cloud.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“And there’s a dead woman in the morgue somewhere in Syracuse.”

“No connection to the fete’s missing money?”

“Uh-huh,” Quill said skeptically. “The state troopers are on this one, right?”

“It’s just inside their jurisdiction, yeah.”

“And that means Lieutenant Harker.”

Davy made a sound like “t’cha.” Then, “That jerk, yeah.”

“Is he copying you in on the investigation?”

“Yeah, but only because…” Davy’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Because he’s got a couple of suspects from Hemlock Falls. Who?”

“You know Harker.”

“I sure do. Mean as a snake and twice as treacherous. Let me help, Davy. Between the two of us, we know almost everybody in town. We can track things down Harker never takes the time to do, or, if you’ll forgive me, the intelligence to contemplate. The sooner the real killer’s found, the better. Then Harker’s out of everybody’s hair.”

Davy sighed. “All right. There’s stuff you can do that I can’t. My hands are tied a lot of the time, and there’s no question you can help. But just on the QT, okay? I like my job; I want to keep it.” He swiveled in his chair and tapped at his keyboard. “Harker made notes of possible motives, which is stupid, because motive isn’t evidence. Motive doesn’t mean squat in court and motive isn’t going to…anyway…here we go. This is Harker’s idea of who to look at. Harvey Bozzel: revenge, thought he should have
the vic’s job.” He looked up at Quill. “The vic meaning Ms. Connelly.”

“I know that, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dolly Jean Attenborough: motive is also revenge. Thought Harvey should have vic’s job. Carol Ann Spinoza, ditto; Michael Allan Ryan Greer, wanted to take over the company.”

“That’s Harker’s suspect list? Harvey, Dolly Jean, Carol Ann, and Greer? The only one who makes any sense at all is Greer, but that’s mainly because we don’t know him from a hole in the ground.” And, she added to herself, he looks dangerous.

“This will make you feel better. He’s redlined Louis Bergdorf.”

“Louis Bergdorf? Who’s he?”

“Mechanic who found the body.”

“The mechanic who found the body. Oh, dear.”

“For once, Harker seems to have his head screwed on straight. Somebody called Zeke Peterson with a cockamamie story about a lottery win and the kid hared off to Syracuse. This mechanic showed up in his place, disappeared, and hasn’t been heard from again. Not only that, Brady Beale claims the guy took off with his laptop and forty thousand dollars’ worth of tools.”

“Forty thousand dollars’ worth of tools?” She rubbed her forehead. She was getting a headache. What in the world would Althea want with forty thousand dollars’ worth of automotive tools? And where the heck would she keep them?

“Yep. He’s already filed a claim with his insurance company.”

“Oh.” Of course Althea didn’t have forty thousand dollars’ worth of tools. Those tools were in Brady’s active imagination. Then she said, “I’ll bet he has, the little weasel.” Then, “He’s insured through Schmidt Realty and Casualty, I’ll bet. Poor Marge.”

“My money’s on this Louis character,” Davy said, who hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. “It’s nice and straightforward, like most crimes. Guy cons the Peterson kid out of town so he can rob the garage and Linda Connelly walks in on it. Bam. There you are.”

Quill shook her head. “This whole Louis Bergdorf thing is a no-go, Davy.”

“You’re kidding! It makes total sense. The vic shows up at the dealership, tries to stop the perp from swiping the tools, and bang, Bergdorf shoots her in the head and stows her in the trunk of her car.”

“But why would Althea…I mean Bergdorf stick around to discover the body? Why not just take off?”

“If crooks were smart, they’d be on Wall Street.”

“There
are
crooks on Wall…never mind. Trust me, Davy, there is no Louis Bergdorf.”

Davy swung his feet to the floor and stood up. He loomed over her. “Whatever you know, you’d better tell me, Quill.”

“Sit down, Davy. Please.” She held his gaze until he sank back into his chair. “Thank you. All I can tell you is this: Louis Bergdorf is going to make Lt. Harker look like a big fat idiot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So if you insist, I’ll tell you who Louis Bergdorf really is and why Louis Bergdorf was at Brady’s car
dealership but I really wish you’d leave it alone. Believe me, it has nothing to do with the murder.”

“Not good enough, Quill.”

“Okay, then let me tell you something I couldn’t know unless I know the identity of Louis Bergdorf. Zeke Peterson found a number ten office envelope with two hundred dollars in his mailbox when he got back from his futile trip to collect his lottery winnings.”

“Dammit, Quill!”

“I know he’s a fellow law enforcement officer and all that—but Harker is…ugh. And trust me, he’s going to look pretty foolish. Let the Bergdorf thing ride, Davy. If Harker does discover who Bergdorf is, he’ll have egg all over his face.”

Davy thought about this for a minute.

“And there is nothing, nothing criminal involved at all. Who has Brady’s insurance policy? Marge, right?”

“She does, sure.”

“Then I’ll let her know the tools claim is bogus.” She thought about the laptop. She wanted a look at that laptop and she’d return it to the dealership herself after she had a chance to go through it. “And I’ll bet you five bucks Brady misplaced his laptop and it isn’t even stolen. Or maybe he lent it to somebody and forgot that he did. Look, hasn’t Harker done a background search on Linda Connelly?”

“Sure. She’s a successful event planner from Syracuse. Former Xerox employee. All kinds of recommendations from her clients. Doesn’t appear to have any enemies in her background. Not the homicidal type, anyway.”