Irregardless of Murder (Miss Prentice Cozy Mysteries) (23 page)

She was especially interested in Steve Trechere and his plans for a bed and breakfast. “Did he say who this mystery woman was?” she asked, pulling out her old leather cigarette case and extracting a small bag of jelly beans. She popped a green one in her mouth and offered me the bag.

I shook my head. “No, just that he’s loved her for a long time. But he hasn’t met you yet. Would you like an introduction?” I added coyly. “He’s very attractive.”

Lily patted her well-coiffed hair. She cocked an eyebrow mischievously and tossed down another jelly bean. An orange one.

“Well, anybody with a nickname like the Millionaire from Montreal can’t be all bad.” She chewed vigorously.

“Was that Mae West or Marilyn Monroe?”

“Neither. It was Lily Burns.” Her face turned suddenly serious. “Tell me more about this UDJ thing.”

“I’ve told you all I know.”

“I just thought of something. It might not be initials. Udy-jay—couldn’t that be a code of some sort?”

“UDJ. U-D-J.” Something connected in my brain. “Udy-jay. Lily! It’s pig Latin! For Judy!” I jumped from my chair. “Judy. Judith Dee, maybe? Lily, of course!”

“Now don’t go jumping to conclusions. That’s pretty silly.”

“But it’s just the sort of thing Marguerite would do! And Derek must have figured it out. That’s why he tried to kill Judith!”

“Amelia, the boy’s been blundering around all over the place. He had you figured for the killer at one point. He could be wrong about her too.”

“That makes sense, of course. But think about this: Marguerite tried to volunteer to go undercover to expose drug activity. The police turned her down, but what if she decided to conduct her own investigation?”

Lily frowned. “That’s a silly, dangerous thing to do.”

“What do I keep telling you? Marguerite was sweet, but she was just silly enough to do something dangerous, especially if she felt strongly about it.” I picked up the empty plates and carried them to the sink. “You know, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It would explain the journal too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marie said Marguerite wanted me to have it, if anything happened to her. She may have been keeping a record of her investigation. It would be just like her.”

“It might explain her letter to Alec,” said Lily thoughtfully dipping into her jelly bean bag and pulling out a pink one. “He told me all about it on the drive home. She accused him of corruption of minors, whatever that means. He took it as a slam against the validity of his work. Made him furious.” She chewed rapidly and swallowed.

“Isn’t that what you were doing?” I pointed out.

“No, of course not. Alec said that he’s used to skepticism. It’s the idea that his work might be actually harmful to young people that set him off.” She explored her bag of candy with her index finger.

“It would upset me too,” I conceded, wondering at Lily’s familiar tone when she mentioned Alec’s name. Could he be getting through to her after all?

“Where did the Standish boy hear about UDJ, then?” Lily asked, getting back to the main subject. “Yuk. Licorice.” She tossed the offending black jelly bean on the table.

“From Marguerite, of course. He was infatuated with her. She must have dropped hints about her suspicions, including UDJ.”

“And when she was killed, he decided to find out about UDJ.”

“Poor Derek,” I said, remembering that limp arm hanging from the stretcher.

Lily looked up suddenly. “Could he have been the one who tossed me in the drink?”

I considered the idea. “He did have a job on the ferryboat. What do you remember about it?”

Lily squinted. “I was walking toward the car. It was raining and there was a lot of wind, so I was hunched over. Something sort of rushed me. Everything happened so fast. I felt myself falling . . . then . . . then . . . ” She sighed. “I’m sorry. Everything goes black from there.”

“What about ‘Woooo-eeee’ and the dark shadow in the water?” I asked wickedly.

Lily slid her eyes sideways. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. I remember that too.”

I sighed. “Lily, you’re hopeless. Still, this Derek thing makes all the sense in the world. At the hospital, he asked about you and said something about making a mistake. You know, I think we may have figured out this thing!”

“So basically you think Judith Dee was dealing drugs and Marguerite found out about it,” Lily said, setting down her bag of candy and ticking the statements off on her fingers. “She wrote an I-saw-what-you-did letter to the people she suspected. Judith took the bait and killed the poor kid.”

I started pacing in my excitement. “And Derek, who obviously had a crush on Marguerite, takes it on himself to go after the murderer. Think about it—a school nurse. What better way to distribute drugs? She’s in contact with young people on a regular basis. She can—Oh!” I cried.

“What is it?”

“She gave me some pain capsules for my head. I have them in my purse.”

Hurrying to the front hall, I located my purse and found the small, unmarked bottle and held it up. Lily took it and tipped out the capsules.

“They look pretty standard, but what do I know? You haven’t taken any?”

“No, thank goodness, but Judith was insistent I keep them.”

Lily handed back the pills, yawning. “Well, I can’t say I’m a hundred percent sold on your theory, but you better call Dennis O’Brien and tell him about it anyway, just to be on the safe side.” She put her hand to her chest. “Whew! I’m exhausted all of a sudden.” She retrieved her jelly beans, walked to the back door, and paused, hand on the doorknob. “You know, the only thing that makes me think there may be something to all this is when Derek Standish accused Judith Dee of murder—”

“She shot him,” I finished for her.

She pointed her finger at me like a pistol. “Exactly.”

Her navigation of my backyard was slow and cautious. “It’s so dark out here,” she complained loudly. “I thought you had lights or something.”

I looked up at the motion-sensing lights. None of them was working. I clicked on the porch light.

“Thanks,” I heard her call.

I watched until I saw her silhouetted by her own back porch light, then called the police station again and asked for Dennis. He still wasn’t there.

I sat for some minutes at the kitchen table, praying for Marie, for Derek, even for Judith. Then I went to bed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next morning went so smoothly I found myself almost forgetting the strain of the last few days. Vern was still sleeping like a little boy in a storybook when I left. I put a note for him on the bathroom mirror:

“Washed your sweatshirt & jeans (hanging in closet.) Fix a big breakfast & be lazy. Dr.’s orders. Amelia.”

The teacher’s workroom was deserted when I arrived, and I finished all the copying, collating, and stapling early enough to enjoy a cup of the first coffee out of the big percolator in the teacher’s lounge. My classes actually enjoyed hearing Shakespeare read aloud by trained actors and laughed in at least some of the right places.

“Why don’t they do this stuff in the Drama Club?” Hardy Patschke asked. “It would be awesome.”

“You could suggest it. We did
Midsummer Night’s Dream
when I was a sophomore here.”

“Didn’t know it was written then, Miss Prentice.”

There was an apprehensive hum as the class waited for my reaction.

“Good try, Hardy, but not up to your usual standard,” I commented dryly. “You seem to be slipping.”

I spotted several smiles of agreement.

Hardy was undaunted. “Don’t worry, I’ll do better next time,” he promised with a grin that displayed his new braces, loyally tinted in the school colors.

All in all, it was a good day, except for a weird encounter with Judith Dee in the hall after lunch. “I’m tougher than I look,” she told me when I expressed amazement at seeing her. “Takes more than that to get me down!” Gingerly, she touched the high turtleneck of her sweater, then took my hand. “They tell me the boy who attacked me is still in a coma. I don’t wish him any harm . . . ”

I’ll just bet you don’t
, I thought.

“ . . . but if dear Vern hadn’t been there, well . . . ” She shook her head, a faraway look in her eye. “I just wish I knew where Derek got such a notion about me.”

I didn’t enlighten her. I was finding it difficult to stand there and talk calmly.

“They asked me where I got the gun,” she said. “It was my husband’s, Amelia. He got it in the army. I never used it before. Never needed to.” She looked at me with dancing gray eyes. “It was self-defense, pure and simple. That’s what I told them. Vern will tell you—ask him! Self defense, pure and simple.” She kept rubbing one hand with the other.

Out, damn’d spot
, I thought. “I’m sure it was, Judith. I’m sure it was.”

I hurried off to call Dennis again. He was still unavailable. Where was that man?

“I thought you’d never get here!” Vern said as I walked through my front door.

“Fine, thanks, how are you?” I hung up my coat.” What’s the matter?”

“Why don’t you get an answering machine? I must have taken a dozen messages.” He had a handful of paper scraps in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other. “It’s onion and mayo. Want me to make you one?” he asked, noticing my gaze.

“Yuk! No thank you.” I reached for the message slips. “O’Brien. WCB,” I read.

“That’s will call back.” He took another bite of sandwich and some mayonnaise fell on his sweatshirt. “Oh rats!”

I could sympathize. I reminded myself to take my suit to the cleaners.

“Marie LeBow. CH?”

Vern licked his fingers. “Call her. Alec called, too, asking about me, but I handled that one for you.”

“Jack Garneau. Re: UDJ. DCH.”

“Don’t call him ’cause I talked to him. He remembered me. He said he asked around and nobody ever heard of those letters.”

I looked at the next slip. “SJ?”

“Sally Jennings.”

“Good. That’s one I can tear up.” I proceeded to do so.

“I don’t know. She asked if you were going to Marguerite’s funeral.”

“Why? She didn’t know Marguerite. At least, I don’t think so. Oh, wait. I think I know. She’s going to try to persuade Marie to sell her house, I’ll bet.”

“Wow, that’s cold.”

“No, that’s Sally. My father was no sooner buried than she was over here, pressuring my mother to sell this place. You saw her in action yourself the other night. She still hasn’t given up. Oops, someone’s at the door.”

When I answered it, Vern took one look from behind me, burst out laughing, and quickly retired to the safety of the kitchen.

It was Sally Jennings. “Hi. Me again. May I come in?” Without waiting for an answer, she proceeded inside. “Who was that?”

“Just a houseguest. Pay him no attention.”

I led her to the parlor. She sat on Mother’s loveseat and I took a Victorian rocker across from her. “Sally, I talked with Steve Trechere—”

“I know. He was very taken with you, Amelia. Very taken. He still hasn’t given up his dream of turning this place into a bed and breakfast. You discussed the possibility, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Well, then, you can see what an incredible idea it is. If Steve Trechere and his friends keep investing, it could mean a turnaround for this town. He said you liked the idea. You did, didn’t you?” she wheedled. There was a desperate air about her I had never seen before.

“Well, I—”

I heard the telephone ring. “I’ll get it,” Vern called from the kitchen.

Sally mistook my hesitation for agreement. “I know, I know. When he told me his plans for the place, well, I was just blown away too! Anyway—”

Vern stuck his head in. “Amelia. Phone for you. It’s urgent.”

“Excuse me, Sally.”
Thank you
, I mouthed to Vern as I passed.

Ever the hero, he stepped into the parlor and proceeded to make small talk with Sally. “Hi, remember me? We met the other night in the yard. By the way, did you know that this place has termites? Big ones. Talk about a dump! It’s practically falling apart. And it’s haunted! Oh, yes! Many’s the night old Ebenezer Prentice walks . . . ”

It was Dennis O’Brien returning my call. Briefly he apologized for his rude behavior the other day.

“I can’t explain myself completely, just yet, Miss Prentice, but it was inexcusable, the way I behaved.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dennis. I know you had good reason.” As succinctly as possible, I told him about Derek and the carjacking, and everything else that had transpired since. Last of all, I told him about the letters UDJ and my theory about them.

“I think Marguerite’s journal may say something about it . . . no, it’s still at the post office. I have a slip for it here and I’m going to pick it up in a few minutes. I’ll bring it right over to the station.”

I heard the front door closing.

Vern sauntered into the kitchen and flashed me the high sign. He had gotten rid of Sally. What a guy!

There was another knock. Vern spun on his heel and headed for the door.

I returned my attention to the telephone. “Yes, I know. You’re absolutely right. I should have called much earlier. I’m so terribly sorry. Yes. I think it should tell you a lot. I’ll bring it in right away.” I hung up.

“Miss Prentice?” said a voice behind me.

I turned. “Mrs. Swanson.” What was she doing here? “Please, call me Amelia.”

Vern stood behind her. He shrugged helplessly.

“ ’N I’m Hester, remember?” She smirked and darted her eyes around the kitchen. “Um, Amelia,” she began. Her eye was caught by the row of salt shakers on the windowsill. “Hey, cute.” She picked up a pair and examined them. “ ’Specially this little maid and butler.”

Behind her, Vern frowned and tapped his watch.

“Hester,” I began, “I’m afraid that we have—”

There was another knock on the front door.

“Now what?” Vern whined under his breath.

It was Judith Dee, bearing a huge box of chocolates. “I just had to drop by and thank my rescuer,” she said breathlessly, handing the gift to him.

From the way his face lit up, I could tell that Vern didn’t share Lily’s negative opinion of candy as a gift. “You didn’t need to do this,” he said, pulling off the gift wrap and opening the box. “A sampler. Wow, thank you! Nobody ever gave me one of these before. Amelia?” He held out the box to me.