Organized for Murder (26 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

STACKED IN YOUR FAVOR

KATE MCKENZIE, PRES.

TO DO FOR Thurs., April 15th

Words to Stay On-Track:

"Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity, and are able to turn both to their advantage."

— Victor Kiam —

Goals for the Day:

1)Work on final invoicing, since job at Amelia's is shut down by order of state police.

2)Presentation tonight at Saree's. Talk about making choices. Discuss how running late is a CHOICE, forgetting appointments is a CHOICE, wise time & resource managing is a CHOICE. Take family schedule calendar. Explain how each person is assigned a color, and appointments for each person are written on the calendar in the designated color so we can quickly spot who does what and when. (Also great reminder for bill paying—give bills their own color.) Suggest hanging in high-traffic area, like the kitchen or near the door everyone leaves by.

*

"Sure you're going to be okay alone?" Keith asked, the girls already in the Jeep and his golf clubs standing ready by the front door.

The radio station planned to devote the entire morning drive hour to cover the latest crime spree in Hazelton. Scheduled experts would discuss how the violence trend continued widening ever farther from the urban areas toward rural locales like Vermont—something Kate knew wouldn't thrill town leaders. But with baseball season beginning, and hockey and basketball hurtling toward playoffs, the evening sports coverage remained set to continue without interruption. To that end, Keith was the man up to provide color for a special Thursday night fundraising baseball game in Burlington between some of the Oakland A's and their Minor League team, the Vermont Lake Monsters, to support the children's wing of a Burlington hospital.

Pre-game, he and his station manager planned to add their own bit of color to their golf games. "I can call Jimmy and cancel."

"No." Kate waved a hand. "Go on. Meg and I have plenty to catch up on today even if we are no longer gainfully employed."

He walked over and circled her in his arms. "Not what I meant. Being close to a murdered—"

"Stop." Kate cut the sharpness of her response with a soft jab to his chest. "I'm perfectly fine about all of this, but I don't need anything resurrecting the memory." She pushed away. "Now go, before the girls decide to try driving themselves to school."

Keith scooped the cell phone out of the kitchen charger as he headed for the door. "If you think you're okay—but call if you need me later. Oh, and remember I'm staying over in Burlington tonight, and you'll have to pick up the twins after school."

"I will. Drive carefully. There's a chance of rain tomorrow, and the drive back might be slick."

He pulled her close and gave her a long kiss goodbye. "I may have had the reputation for being a little reckless on hockey ice, babe, but never on asphalt."

Kate followed him out the front door and waved to the girls as the red Jeep circled the cul-de-sac and disappeared onto the main road. The telephone rang as she locked the door.

"Hello."

"I saw everyone leave," Meg said. "Want me to come over and help you prepare our invoice or anything? I'll bring donuts and the newspaper. Gil made an early run this morning."

"Any new info?" Kate asked, smiling at the proprietary way all small towns want to learn everything about their own—good or bad. Especially the bad.

"Only new thing I noticed was about the rumors regarding Sophia's alleged involvement in some less than savory business dealings subsequent to the court ruling her husband incapable of handling his own financial affairs."

"He's not in for health problems, he's—"

"Ga-ga," Meg replied. "Put a fresh pot of coffee on, and I'll be over with donuts."

"Interesting. So Sophia truly was in charge."

As the coffee brewed Kate scooped up breakfast dishes and added them to the dishwasher. She wiped off the maple syrup bottle and replaced it in the refrigerator, then took a wet cloth to the sticky area left on the table. A load of laundry churned rhythmically in the washer by the time Meg walked through the back door.

"I bring the most important of the basic food groups," Meg said, raising the flat box high above her head as if in offer to the carb-deity. "My men swarmed over these sweets like locusts, but I managed to keep two back before they devoured everything."

"My family had waffles with too much syrup, so both our offspring should be crashing right around first recess," Kate replied. "The girls originally wanted a new sugary cereal they
had to have
last night, but once they pulled out the prize they decided their dad's breakfast looked better."

Meg lowered the box with a flourish, and it landed gracefully in the middle of the table. "Then our work is done, my sister. Let us eat."

Kate laughed and set the coffeepot on a trivet. She pulled pads and pens from the drawer under the telephone.

"What are those for?"

"I've been thinking. We may not be able to work at the mansion anymore—nor do I want to," she quickly added as Meg displayed an alarmed expression. "But we do possess a pretty good knowledge of Amelia's eccentric taste and—"

"You do, anyway."

Kate shook her head. "And you, too. Your total hours in there nearly match mine, and you can't tell me you haven't absorbed more than a little of the crazy-quilt logic the couple used to buy what struck their fancy. Plus, you've seen enough in the rooms to be able to notice things which may belong in the Nethercutts' various collections."

"I'm not getting where you're going with this." Meg picked up a plump donut and bit into the glazed curve.

"I propose we go on a scavenger hunt today." When Meg raised a quizzical eyebrow, she hastened to add, "Check out area antique stores and malls for anything that might have belonged to Amelia and Daniel. Try to find out who brought the pieces in for sale and maybe discover who was stealing her stuff."

"Oh! What mother and the gossipy hens talked about at the garden club luncheon." Meg dropped her donut and almost knocked over a cup in her excitement. "I'd forgotten Amelia's mission."

"Well, we haven't exactly had the time to take it on while doing the inventory, but now we do have the opportunity and should recognize things that may have made Amelia's collector heart go pitter-patter. We know enough to be dangerous, anyway, to someone trying to keep his or her sticky-fingered crimes a secret."

"Speaking of sticky." Meg popped the last bite into her mouth and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "We could be placing ourselves in a sticky situation, and uncover enough to get in more hot water."

Kate tore her donut in half and offered a piece to her friend. "I can't believe Meg Berman is suddenly getting super-security-minded. You've acted all along as if you're ready to launch into anything."

Meg snapped up the proffered fried dough and grinned. "Hey, I'm not turning cautious. I simply like to play devil's advocate once in a while. Speaking of Satan, you don't suppose the whole theft problem died yesterday with Sophia?"

"Maybe, but I've been thinking long and hard on this and every part of me wants to say no. I mean, yes. Sophia was swiping anything she could from the mansion, but was always out in the open about it, and she repeatedly claimed the items were willed to her. The thefts in question, however, began before Amelia died, and disappeared stealthily. Completely out of character for Sophia."

"True, but if she needed money for shady dealings—"

"We don't know she's short on funds, just that shady business rumors are flying. But if the woman needed cash, why not mortgage a property or sell something to put a lot of bucks in her bank account?" Kate took a sip of coffee to wash down the sugar overload, then walked to the counter and pulled her casebook from her purse, flipping a few pages before she answered. "Nope. According to what your mother said, Amelia found her stuff up for sale in an antique shop. Whether it was consignment or not, a Vermont antique shop isn't the best way to get top price or fast cash. With her connections she would have hit Sotherby's or Christie's for a more lucrative and timely payday."

"Connections in New York might offer the means. Remember she had to stay until Saturday on business when she and Keith flew there. Maybe the extra day was to arrange transport or something."

"Or something," Kate mused. "As much as I would love to say Sophia framed me, I can't make myself believe she was the thief."

"So, do you think it's Bill or Thomas?"

Kate shrugged. "No idea. The only thing to do is visit some shops and ask who brought in the goods."

"Any hints about starting places?"

"I wanted to ask Mrs. Baxter, but I called the phone number she gave me, and it's been disconnected. Apparently, she's moved out of her cottage, and I have no idea where. I guess I could try the attorney's office. They need an address to send a final check, or do you think Bill might be worth pumping for information?"

"I have a better idea." Meg pulled keys from her jeans pocket. "We go with the theme of your original thoughts and take to the highways and byways, my friend. Wander through every antique store we can find, and see what information gets unearthed. That's how Amelia discovered the scheme. Maybe we'll discover the schemer."

"Good idea. Any particular starting point in mind?"

"Bennington boasts a good concentration of antique emporiums located in and around the city limits. Close enough for the thief to get there easily, and far enough from Hazelton to make him or her complacent about the risk of getting caught. Come on, I'll drive, and you can ride shotgun."

"Shotgun, Meg, really? I think I prefer to be navigator."

"Yeah." Meg grinned. "But the other sounds much more exciting."

*

The best part about her neighbor's adventure idea was getting to travel over several of the state's picturesque covered bridges. Kate loved the gentle
wap-wap-wap
sound tires made crossing the wooden floors, and the way the sunlight and leaf shadows danced in and out of the lattice-worked openings above the car. She sent up a wish with every crossing, her own personal superstition for blessing.

When the many shops in Bennington proper failed to provide a lead, the women hit the perimeter roads, finally heading north on Route 67A. It was at one of the three bridges off Route 67A, the one across Silk Road, where her wish came true.

The dark red barn sat off at the side of the road, surrounded by majestic hemlocks and various evergreens. Fallen cones lay scattered across the season's new grass, along with the short dark leaves that gave the hemlock branches their flat appearance. A crushed gravel drive and small parking lot completed the scene, with a rustic sign, U
RSULA'S
A
NTIQUES,
swinging in the breeze. The loft held linens and bed things, sheet music, and antique camping and fishing gear. The lower level displayed kitchen and household items, books and tools, jewelry and music boxes—and one glorious puzzle box. Kate gasped. It was the same ebony and ivory inlaid puzzle box planted in Kate's house the night of Amelia's murder and returned to the mansion just days ago.

Meg picked it up, her mouth set in a firm line as she turned the box over. They nodded in silent agreement.

"A lovely little box," cooed Ursula, a white-haired pixie who rose from a needle-pointed chair behind a teak eighteenth-century secretary. "At least one-hundred-fifty years old. Asian. We just received it from a new vendor."

Kate took the box from Meg and shook it. Nothing. Whatever had been inside was gone. She wanted to learn the secret, for her own peace of mind if nothing else. "Can you show me how it opens?"

"Certainly." Ursula pulled open a thin drawer and extracted a hat pin. "Quite simple once the trick is revealed." She pushed the pin's point into an almost invisible hole near one seam. Instantly, the top sprang up, revealing the empty interior.

"How interesting," Meg said. "This came from a new vendor, you say?"

"Yes." Ursula smiled. "I can't wait to meet her."

Kate's heart sank, and knew from looking at Meg's face that her friend felt the same disappointment. "You've never met this person? This woman?"

Ursula shook her head. "I've only talked to her by phone. She sent the box by post, with an address to mail the check."

"Do you have an address?"

"Yes…" Ursula frowned. "Is there a particular reason you're interested in this vendor?"

Obviously we'll never make it as spies.
Kate looked at Meg and received a shrug, taking that as agreement to go ahead and tell all. "You see, Miss, er, Ursula, we believe this item was stolen from an estate we've been working for. Various things disappeared over the past few months. You can see why we're interested in the person who sent the box."

"Stolen? My heavens." Ursula fluttered back to her chair and picked up a manila folder to fan her rapidly reddening face. "She said her name was Miss Wilson, and she had such a cultured voice. Of course, from what you say I assume her name is likely an alias, but I certainly had no reason to think so at the time or believe the item stolen."

"You said you have her address."

"Oh, yes." Ursula dropped her improvised fan and pulled a Rolodex closer. After picking through an almost endless stream of cards, she pulled out one. "A post office box in Wilmington."

The town just east of Bennington. Another let down.

*

They wound through the picturesque roads back to Hazelton, both women unusually quiet. Meg's jaw was set and her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. Kate wished they could check out more places, but the end of the school day was fast approaching with kids to retrieve. Additionally, she needed time to steel herself for the Book Nook organizing seminar in a few hours.