Organized for Murder (20 page)

Sheesh, talk about the perfect patsy. I'm helping the bad guy do his job.
Or her job, she corrected herself.

With police traipsing everywhere, Kate remained jumpy most of the morning. Would they do a more thorough search in case the mask was secreted somewhere in the house, and discover her own cache before the two items could be replaced? Icing on the cake, added to the lieutenant's recent comments.

Telling herself to quit worrying was a useless endeavor, and the day provided little else to do as the team waited for the police to complete their duties and eventually release them. By ten o'clock, officers moved the threesome into the dining room, once the room attained "clean" status, to wait and watch as different law enforcement personnel criss-crossed the hall.

"Could we please go ahead with our inventory job?" Kate asked Lieutenant Johnson. She could feel a headache coming on, and though not crazy about working the day either, if they got anything done it would have to be soon. Amelia's funeral started at three, and she needed to go home and change.

"Where do you want to work?" Johnson stood in the middle of the hall and turned to get the floor plan's full effect.

Kate joined him on the oriental runner and pointed toward the front of the house. "We've been working on the parlor."

"You done in the southeast parlor?" he barked at a nearby technician.

"Didn't see any reason to go in there," the tech answered. "Want me to do it next?"

The women groaned. The lieutenant shrugged and grinned. "No, I guess not. The only thing positively missing is the mask. No need to create any more headaches."

Kate's headache subsided a bit.

As they made their way into the parlor, Meeks came down the stairs. "I think I have things scouted out all right, and I've placed a few pivoting cameras on each floor, but I'll be over with my guys to set more later."

Meeks seemed to take up the entire parlor doorway. He pointed to a camera mounted high in one corner, across the room and a good distance from the windows. "They're all like that little one. Tiny but mighty. Uses wireless technology to send everything to our computers." The camera pivoted in a slow, continuous arc, keeping the room in scope.

"It'll spot anyone coming in and tell us whatever's taken, unless the item is right under the lens. That's kind of a dead zone. But you're more interested in 'whom' than 'what,' and this system should do the job." He hefted his two black leather cases. "You ladies need anything else before I go?"

"No, but thank you," Kate said. Meg nodded and smiled. Valerie looked bored.

"Well, guess I'll be g—"

"Just a minute, Meeks," Lieutenant Johnson called him back. "We'll want any evidence you collect on those tapes."

"You mean files. Everything's digital. And I'm afraid you'll need to get permission from my client."

"We've already spoken with Charles Webster Walker. He said we have his full cooperation."

"On the burglary of the mask?" Meeks questioned.

"Yes."

"But I wasn't hired because of the mask. My contracted duty predates that discovery. I'll be happy to turn over anything my client releases, but I can't agree to do so without his direct instruction." Meeks walked to the door and left without another word, leaving a red-faced Johnson in his wake.

Feeling a little cowardly, Kate moved further into the parlor, out of the lieutenant's line of sight. Meg and Valerie followed suit.

Law enforcement completed their tasks and vacated the premises within another hour. Kate's official workday had started at seven. It was past noontime, and she was shouldering the effects of a nearly full day and unrelenting stress. The idea of leaving for a restaurant meal made her giddy, but simply eating sounded wonderful, too. She was about to suggest a call-in pizza order, hoping maybe Louie would be delivering for Hazey Pie and she could follow up another lead, when the front bell rang.

"I'll get it. I need to get up anyway." Meg scooted the computer off her lap and went to the door, rolling her head as she walked to loosen neck muscles.

Seconds later Mrs. Baxter appeared, a worried frown covering her dumpling face. "Oh, you poor dears. Wading through all these dusty things."

Kate glanced down at the gray-brown streaks overlaying the print of her shirt and the blue in her jeans, and noticed Valerie equally and dustily decorated, including forehead stripes where she'd swiped her sweaty brow.

"If I told Miss Amelia once, I told her a hundred times we had to get someone in to take care of these things," Mrs. Baxter continued. A tear slipped down one powdered cheek as she faced Kate. "But, of course, that's why you were here to begin with, wasn't it dear?"

Kate quickly rose from where she'd been kneeling by the sheet music to hug the older woman. "In case you need me, I'll be at the funeral today, Mrs. Baxter. Don't forget that."

The cotton-haired cook pulled back and nodded, wiping her eyes with a lacey handkerchief. "I know you will, dear." She reached up and squeezed Kate's shoulder, then briskly blew her nose. "There. That's better." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I fell apart. Those spells hit when I least expect."

"Well, I'm glad you came today," Kate said. "I was going to go by your cottage on the way out to check on you."

Valerie loudly sniffed, drawing attention to herself. The smug look she shot Kate implied she had information but wasn't ready to spill.

Kate turned her attention back to Mrs. Baxter. "Did you come to say hello, or can we help you with anything?"

The cook took a final swipe at her reddened nose and shook her head. "Came to clean out the refrigerator and freezers. Stuff's going to ruin if I don't. No one in that selfish family ever thinks about such mundane things. Got an okay from Mr. Walker to donate the whole kit and caboodle to the homeless shelter. They'll be by in about an hour to pick up the donation."

"We were about to order lunch—"

"Order lunch?" Mrs. Baxter shook her head. "Not while I'm here you won't. You ladies come into the kitchen, and I'll make you a meal to remember. Nothing planned from scratch, mind you, but well worth every bite."

They had barely sat down before the cook swept a companionable plate of cheeses along with a basket of bread rounds and crackers for them to nibble on while they waited. Kate tried the Camembert first. Meg dived into the Vermont Shepherd and Valerie chose Maytag Blue. Cucumber and red onion salad followed, and Kate loved the cool, fresh taste, marveling over the black sesame seeds on top.

"I've never seen black sesames before."

"Just one of my secrets," Mrs. Baxter returned, beaming. "Now, for the main course," she stood on tiptoe in front of the open freezer, "would you like Korean beef bok choy, chicken grilled with peach salsa, or mushroom bolognese?"

"You want us to choose?" Meg cried.

Valerie whined, "I can't."

Mrs. Baxter's smile shone bigger. "I'll put everything out and you can serve yourselves a bit of each."

The woman was true to her word. From freezer to microwave to table in less than a quarter of an hour, and Kate knew precisely why Amelia made her first task after returning to Hazelton to hire back Mrs. Baxter.

They passed on black-and-white parfaits for dessert, but all dove into the cherry turnover midgees and chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons.

"Oh, Mrs. Baxter, I've died and gone to heaven," Meg said, stacking her dessert dish on top of her spotless salad and dinner plate.

"Me too." Kate added her dishes to the stack and rose to bus the table. Meg grabbed the used silverware.

"And me," Valerie chimed in, remaining steadfast in her chair.

Mrs. Baxter beamed as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

A knock sounded at the back door, and Kate expected the homeless shelter personnel. The cook dropped the towel on the counter and bustled over to open the door. Bill Nethercutt entered instead.

"I had to pick up something in the garage and thought I heard voices," he said. "Figured I'd stop and say hello, but it looks like I might be in time for lunch."

"Yes, sir." Mrs. Baxter scooted to a cabinet, returning with another plate and silverware. "I was feeding the ladies leftovers, but we've plenty more. Sit down and make yourself at home."

Bill started with the beef bok choy. Another knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Baxter admitted two husky individuals sporting crew cuts and flannel shirts, as Kate filled Bill in on the food plans.

"Oh, excellent idea," he said, but a line formed between his eyebrows. "Wish I'd thought of it myself."

He remained silent the rest of the time he was there, eating and staring as box after box of packaged frozen food disappeared into the homeless shelter's van. Kate wondered at this strange behavior from such a normally gregarious man. Was it the idea of Mrs. Baxter's exquisite edibles going to charity that silenced his tongue, or a dislike of the two individuals who came to get the food? With her last bite, Kate recalled his rumored money woes and decided it was likely the idea he couldn't take the delicious meals home himself.

"Did you find what you needed in the garage?" Meg asked.

He seemed caught off-guard by the question, and stared blankly at her for several seconds. "Oh, yes," he said at last. "We'd left the keys to the MG in the glove box. I wanted to pick them up to keep Danny from getting any ideas about driving the car."

"But it's up on the rack," Kate said.

"How would you know that?" Bill asked, suspicion showing on his face.

Valerie jumped in to explain. "There was a prowler yesterday. We checked the garage and backyard."

"A prowler?" His fork slipped from his hand and clattered onto the plate.

"Yes, and one of your father's death masks was stolen," Kate added, "Charles Webster Walker is aware of everything. The police were here all morning."

"Here?" He pushed his chair away from the table. "Gotta talk to—" Then he stopped. Kate wondered who Bill wanted to speak with, and what he wanted to talk about.

He pulled keys from his pocket, and for a moment returned to a semblance of his former gracious self. "Ladies, it's been a pleasure, but I just remembered an appointment." He looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, but I really have to run."

I'll bet you do. But where are you running, Billy-boy?
Kate wished she had time to follow, now anxious to witness how he would appear during Amelia's service in the afternoon.

*

The funeral was held at the Episcopal Church in Hazelton, the small sanctuary overflowing with friends, family, and the out-and-out curious. The mingled scents from the floral displays that filled the front and lined the walls almost overwhelmed Kate's senses.

Local florists are probably making more on this funeral than they will for Mother's Day next month.

The family sat separated from the rest of the mourners, each member dressed in stalwart black. Handkerchiefs were the favored accessory, but she noticed Bill no longer appeared upset. In fact, from the distance he seemed almost giddy, having to wipe a huge smile from his face whenever his head turned Sophia's way. She, in turn, tried to wither him with a glare. Danny and Thomas, on the other hand, stayed absorbed by the sprays and stands of flowers, and Mrs. Baxter cried nonstop. Kate was glad the cook had been invited to sit with the others, though a little surprised Sophia would condescend to let "the help" fraternize in such a manner.

Most of all, she couldn't shake the feeling the next shoe was about to drop.

*

The next morning, Kate ran fingers through her hair and noted her 'do getting too long again. She made a mental memo to call Dixie about a hair appointment. The twins looked cute in curls, but she liked to keep her blond waves at bay, and the most efficient way meant keeping her cut at chin length.

Just another expense.

She wondered how soon Charles Webster Walker paid invoices. Of course, she and her crew hadn't even worked a full day yet. With a sigh, she turned off the light and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, she pulled out the pre-made French toast she'd frozen the previous week and made a cappuccino. She'd gotten hooked on Starbucks while Keith had played for Vancouver and they'd lived near Seattle. This single serving variety didn't meet professional standards, but it was cheaper and served her purposes to fight residual addiction attacks. And today's hit hard.

The cappuccino's rich smell tickled her nose and jolted her mind and stomach alive, its steam rising cloud-like in the chill air. Her ears tingled. Kate's pulse slowed, waves of comfort riding in the light's verve. Yes, this was what she needed.

She thought about Amelia's service and reflected on what she'd seen of the family. Bill stayed at one side of the first pew. Sophia sat a row back and at the other end, with Thomas midway down and Danny behind his father. Likely Bill's glee was due to putting something over on his sister, but the whole group seemed contentious. Only Mrs. Baxter shared Bill's pew, with the other relatives keeping a vast distance between one another, as if no one had wanted to sit near anyone else. Or trusted each other.

Everyone else, friends and community leaders, had whispered and cried quietly into tissues. She'd recognized the garden club all sitting together in the pews to her right, every member wearing a white orchid in Amelia's memory. Within the family pews only Mrs. Baxter showed great emotion, breaking down during a turn at the podium to speak about her late employer. Bill helped her back to her seat, her speech forever unfinished.

Which led to Kate's next question. She wrote in the casebook:

1) Was Mrs. Baxter invited to sit with the family? Or did she just assume her place?

Again, Kate contemplated the relationship, or lack of relationship, between the wealthy matriarch and the cook. Two women who grew up together, shared space and conversation, but remained endless rungs apart on the social ladder. Mrs. Baxter's place at the funeral must have been by invitation, or Sophia would surely have opposed such familiarity between an employee and the employer's family. Then again, maybe she had. Maybe Bill invited the cook to push his sibling's buttons, and that explained his seeming delight and his sister's sourness. The more Kate thought about it, the more this scenario sounded like a sure bet. Those two were nothing if not consistently adolescent toward one another.