Fete Worse Than Death (9781101595138) (8 page)

“Davy had to send the patrol cars out to Peterson Automotive—Carol Ann kept insisting that the Citizens for Justice needed police protection. Of course, the presence of the patrol cars made really great TV.” Quill shook her head in disgust. “Some citizens’ movement. There were twenty or so people there, at most, none of them with anything substantial to say. Brady kept shoving people in front of his store sign so the TV cameras would pick it up. If you ask me, he’s in it for the free advertising. Too bad for us it was a slow news night. Oh! And Carol Ann’s started a Twitter campaign. She’s calling it fete-fraud. Very catchy, which is also too bad for us.”

“What does Adela have to say?”

Quill rubbed her forehead. “Nobody can find her, poor thing. Dookie, Elmer, and I signed all the permissions to launch a bank inquiry. Elmer’s a mess. Davy let all the deputies know we needed to talk to her…in an informal way, since there’s no evidence a crime’s been committed yet—but then they got diverted with this protest Carol Ann organized.

“Marge and I went over to Adela’s three times today, but her car wasn’t there. Then I had to go to Syracuse to see about renting those crates for the Furry Friends booths, and by the time I got back, Carol Ann was blatting away about the conspiracy. Don’t ask me what kind of conspiracy. It doesn’t make any sense. She’s named herself president and the whole purpose seems to be to hang
poor Adela out to dry. It’s awful. I went down to the Croh Bar for a glass of wine after Doreen put Jack to bed, to kind of get a feel for things. Everybody shakes their head and says: “I always knew there was something funny about those Henrys” and “I didn’t want to say anything before, but…” And then they go on to say the most dreadful stuff. She’s got a few supporters, all of us at the Inn, and Marge, and Miriam, and Clare’s people up at the academy, but everyone else is just nasty. I’ve been an innkeeper too long to be disillusioned, but still.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “Ugh.”

Her husband shook his head slightly in sympathy.

Myles was in an airport lounge, she could tell that much. But where the lounge was located and where he was going was a complete mystery. She never wanted to know, in case it was one of the hot spots featured so terrifyingly in the
New York Times
and the
Syracuse Herald
. He’d been traveling for at least twenty-four hours, so it had to be halfway around the world. Beyond that, she didn’t want to speculate.

“This will blow over, dear heart.” Myles’s voice was deep and resonant, even through the distortion of the speakers. Quill’s heart turned over. Somehow, phone calls had been easier than the video conferencing and she wished, briefly, that she’d never set up the video software. She missed him less when she couldn’t hear him and see him at the same time.

“I suppose you’re right. The big question is the fete. Elmer keeps saying the fete’s the responsibility of the steering committee, which it is, of course, except that Adela took care of everything. I got a little ruffled when
Brady Beale accused us of being doormats and rubber-stamping everything, but he’s right! And it’s not that big a committee. Just me and Adela and Elmer, who’s a mess, of course. Dookie Shuttleworth is so gentle he can never put his foot down about a thing. So guess who’s been elected temporary chair?”

Myles bit his lip.

“It’s not funny, Myles! I was perfectly happy being a doormat. I’m totally fine with rubber-stamping. I do not, not,
not
want to run another damn committee!”

“What about this Althea Quince?”

“What about her?” Quill said crossly. “She was just super sympathetic when she and her husband finally got here, but she’s not a native, and she’s clueless about what needs to be done next.”

“Do I know her?”

“You met her. She’s that woman who’s renting the Federal Suite at the Inn for three months. That’s
not the problem
!” Quill wanted to pound the desk, which would wake up Jack, or throw something against the wall, which would also wake up Jack. Instead, she dug her fingers into her temples and took a long breath. “Where’s the money? If Adela moved it, where did she move it to? If she didn’t move it, who did?

“None of us had access to the checkbook. Adela guarded it like a lioness. She’s always been so proud of how much we’ve been able to donate to the literacy program. Handing over to the charity was one of the highlights of her year. No. Something else must have happened to the funds. A computing error, maybe, although Mark Anthony got really ruffled when I suggested that.”

“I should think he would. If it is a bank error, it’ll show up soon enough.”

“Mark Anthony won’t talk to me about it. I called him at home. All he said was: ‘the bank end checks out,’ whatever that may mean. And then ‘we’ve hired a fraud consultant,’ which says to me that the money’s actually gone and somebody actually took it.”

Myles maintained a diplomatic silence.

“Marge is going to put one of her tech guys on it, if she can get the bank to agree. Doesn’t think much of the bank’s consultant. Anyhow. All this will take enormous amounts of time, and since the money’s gone, and we can’t find Adela, it’s pretty clear that the fete will be toast if we don’t find the thief pretty soon.”

“So you’re pretty sure you’re looking for an embezzler.”

“But who?! Out of Adela, Elmer, Dookie Shuttleworth, and me, who would you pick? I didn’t do it. And for God’s sake, literally, we can’t suspect Dookie of all people…” She stopped and said, with emphasis. “Althea Quince.”

Myles smiled. “Tell me about Althea Quince.”

“Sure. Well, you’ve met her. She and her husband were the first to sign up for the Long-Term Let. They moved into the Federal Suite and the Colonial Suite last month.”

Myles looked a little startled. “Both suites?”

“Althea said she’s been happily married for forty years and living in two suites would insure that she and Nolan would make it forty-one.” Despite her agitation, Quill laughed. She’d liked the flamboyant Althea Quince. But not if she was a thief. “There’s your suspect, Myles. The day after she and Nolan moved in, she asked if there were any openings in community service. They’ve taken
the suites for three months, and she said she’d go stir-crazy if she didn’t have something interesting to do. And you know how hard it always is to get local people to serve on the fete committee. It’s strictly rubber-stamp. Adela’s show. Only wimps allowed, which is why Dookie and I get drafted every year. But we did need another body, and Althea was more than happy to take on the more tedious tasks, like the ads and the mailings. I could just kick myself.” She grabbed her hair with both hands and tugged at it. “Who likes to spend their time collating mailing lists? Nobody. I can’t believe I was so mistaken about her.”

“Quill…”

“I’ll bet she’s flown the coop—and she prepaid for the three months, too!”

“Quill!”

Quill released her hair and sat up. “I know. You’re right. I’m jumping the gun. I’m theorizing ahead of the facts. You just wait. I’ll get Marge to dig into her background and we’ll get that money back.”

The computer screen was high res, and it didn’t obscure Myles’s slight frown.

“Don’t worry. I’m not getting involved with anything like murder. I promised, remember? But I’ve got to find out who took that money. If I don’t—I’m chair of the fete steering committee.”

“I’ve said it before so I don’t need to say it again.”

“Leave it to the professionals. Right. I will. Don’t worry. I’ll just make a few…inquiries. We have an emergency meeting of the committee tomorrow morning to decide what to do next.” She sighed. “Let’s leave it for the
moment. How are you doing? Did you get the photos of Jack I sent in his bath tonight? I wish we didn’t have to talk so late at night. You never get a chance to actually see him.”

He held up his phone. “Received and stored. And the move back to the Inn went smoothly?”

“It did. We’ve got a lot of practice switching back and forth from the house to here. Mike brings the van and I’ve got it down to less than an hour.” Suddenly, she felt tears at the back of her eyes. “I wish. Never mind. I love you, Myles. Stay safe.”

The fete committee members had agreed that an early breakfast meeting was in order in view of the crisis.

Quill’s office was small, but her Queen Anne conference table seated four and could accommodate coffee and small plates so at nine sharp, she sat down with Althea, Dookie, and a very haggard Elmer Henry.

“My dear, dear man.” Althea Quince patted Elmer heartily on the back. “We will get to the bottom of this. Don’t fear for a moment that we will fail.”

Althea had a very loud voice. And it was hoarse. From years, she admitted, of smoking too many Gauloises in too many corners of Paris. She and her husband Nolan were retired from the food brokerage business, and it had taken them all around the world in pursuit of exotic and interesting foods.

Quill mentally categorized Althea’s manner of dress as floaty. She swathed herself in long, gauzy, vividly colored scarves. She had a penchant for dangling earrings in various exotic designs. She reminded Quill of an African parrot, one of the brilliantly plumaged kinds.

She also wore a lot of Chanel No. 5, and the scent
wafted through the air every time she gestured. “Your dear wife is innocent of any malefaction. I’m as certain of this as I am of anything on this earth…or”—this with a gracious nod in Dookie’s direction—“the next, if you forgive me, Reverend Shuttleworth.”

Dookie blinked mildly at her. “None of us are certain of the next world, Mrs. Quince. We can only have faith. But I, too, believe in Adela’s innocence. I’m sure that all will be explained in time.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Elmer said in a very low voice. “None of this. It’s like what they say about nightmares. I’m in one. I just can’t b’live it. You heard about this Citizens for Justice gang?”

Althea clucked in sympathy.

“Bunch of yahoos,” Elmer muttered. “Out to get my wife. It’s a nightmare. A nightmare.” He moved restlessly in his chair. Nobody ever called Elmer well dressed, but Adela always made sure that his button-down cotton shirts were neatly ironed, and he was never without a sports coat and tie. Today he was in a golf shirt, rumpled chinos, and his socks didn’t match.

Quill sat up a little straighter in her chair. “I suppose we should call this meeting to order.” Then with a hopeless optimism, “In Adela’s absence, which I’m sure will be temporary, would anyone like to take the chair?”

Althea smiled, showing strong white teeth. “Wouldn’t be appropriate for a flat land foreigner, my dear.”

Dookie blushed and looked at his feet.

Elmer looked helpless.

“If no one minds, then I’ll step in temporarily.” Quill looked down at her sketch pad, where she’d made a short
list of things to be done immediately. Actually, it was quite a long list. “Well. I’m not sure where to start, here. The fete’s in two weeks and there’s a ton of work to get through.” She made one last stab at getting out from under. “I don’t suppose Adela would consider stepping back in as an advisor, Elmer? We all know there’s nothing to these nutty allegations.”

To Quill’s horror, Elmer started to cry. “She’s talking to a lawyer. She texted me.”

“That’s a good thing,” Quill said warmly. “That way she can refer any, um…inquiries from people to her counsel. All the best people do it, Elmer.”

“A divorce lawyer,” Elmer sobbed. “On account of that tap on her behind with the gavel.”

“Oh.” Quill sat back. “Yikes. I’m truly sorry.”

Dina tapped at the office door and stuck her head inside. “Umm…Quill? Brady Beale is here to see you.”

“Brady Beale the car dealer?” Quill said blankly.

Dina nodded, and glanced furtively over her shoulder and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Shall I let him come in? I can tell him you said no. He says now that there’s a vacancy on the steering committee he wants to fill it.”

“That son of a B!” Elmer said. “He’s trying to hang my wife out to dry! You let him come in here, Dina, and I’ll…” Elmer balled his fists. “I’ll sock him, that’s what I’ll do.”

Dookie cleared his throat. “Violence,” he said gently, “is not the answer. I think, Dina, my dear, that we should invite Brady to the table.”

Quill bit her lip uncertainly.

“Not a bad idea,” Althea said briskly. “Best way to
know your enemy is close-up. I vote to let him in, too. As for you, old son”—she clapped Elmer briskly on the shoulder—“no socking, whacking, thumping, or hitting. Okay?”

Elmer’s lower lip was stuck out so far, Quill thought he might trip if he got up too quickly. But he put his hands flat on the table and jerked his chin down in agreement.

Quill got up and sat behind her desk, leaving the fourth chair at the table free. “Okay, Dina. Let him in.”

“I stuck him out in the foyer. Hang on.”

Brady walked into the office with a broad smile that faltered under Elmer’s glare. He was of medium height, thin, and his dark hair was thinning on top. Quill thought he was in his mid-thirties, perhaps older. He’d been married once or twice, although she was pretty sure he wasn’t married at the moment.

He shook hands solemnly with Quill, and then Dookie. He nodded at Althea. “Brady Beale, of Peterson’s Automotive.”