Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (15 page)

It was easy to see the door from here, because the ivy was torn where Chaz had pulled it apart. She pulled at the vines, clearing the doorway. The ivy would grow back; ivy always did. She started to lift the iron latch and realized the gate wasn’t fully closed. Chaz must have left it open so they would be able to get out again. She pushed the gate inward, just enough to stick her head in and make sure no one was on the other side.

Chaz hadn’t left the gate open. And Liv wasn’t the only person sneaking back onto the property. Resting up against the brick wall was a tripod and camera case. Mr. Grossman must have thought they would be safe here while he was… What could he possibly be doing that he had to sneak around instead of asking to be let in the yard?

Liv left the gate open in case she needed to make a quick getaway, and began to slowly make her way toward the house.

To her left was a clothesline of clean towels. Hildy must have done the wash that morning. The laundry blocked Liv’s view of the kitchen. And Hildy’s view to this part of the lawn.

Which was a good thing. Liv had just worked hard to win a little bit of Hildy’s trust, and she didn’t want to jeopardize it by having Hildy catch her snooping around the estate again. On the other hand, she wanted to know what the Onyx curator was up to.

She’d just take a quick look and would quietly let herself out again.

She skirted the turret, where they’d climbed to the roof. Kept her back to the wall of the house and inched along the rough stones until she came to the corner of the house. She peered around the side.

She didn’t see Grossman anywhere. Actually, it was hard to see anything though the leafy trees.

She scooted along until she was beneath the ledge where the ghost must have landed after his disappearing act. At least, she thought that was the ledge. The house was an architectural nightmare, with ledges and small roofs jutting out all over the place.

She stepped away from the house and looked up. There was the window the killer hadn’t climbed through to get back inside. But there was another ledge three feet below it and to the right. And another to the left, a little lower.

She bet it would have been fun to climb as a teenager, like Chaz and his buddies had done. How many boys had taken that rite of passage and jumped from level to level until they were safely on the ground? How many broken legs and collarbones had it taken to impress the girls? And who had made the same leap only three nights before, after killing a man?

Between the house and the woods, the lawn was trampled and churned up where Daniel Haynes had sat on horseback, waiting for his cue to begin the attack.

What if he’d looked up? He might have seen the killer make his escape. At least he might have seen him in the split second when the murderer had jumped to the ledge, arms spread wide, then disappeared. After that, he would have been hidden by the ledge. He only had to wait until the attack began, and then leisurely climb down to the ground.

A movement down at the water’s edge brought her back to her main purpose for skulking about the grounds. George Grossman had stepped into the opening between the trees. If he looked around, he would catch Liv looking back at him.

She made a mad dash across the swath of lawn to the trees, threw herself behind one, and peered out just as Grossman turned to retrace his steps. Liv stepped behind the tree and pressed herself against the rough bark. Waited a few seconds and carefully looked out again.

Now he was looking into the opposite stand of trees. His back was to her, and Liv took the opportunity to move closer to the lake.

What was he doing? Why all the stealth? Liv supposed the museum might use the grounds for something, like the Women’s Club held events in the manicured garden of the club building. But why not just ask to see the property again?

He disappeared from view again, and Liv kept edging toward the water. He might be on an innocent recce, but Liv didn’t think so. There was something not on the up-and-up with this guy. And since she’d come this far, she was determined to find out what he was up to.

As Grossman stood there, another man appeared. Liv recognized that madras jacket even at this distance. Gallantine’s nephew and the museum man? Definitely something spurious going on.

They’d acted like they’d never met before when they’d shaken hands a few hours ago. And Grossman hadn’t been out of her sight more than a few minutes the entire day. Had they planned this meeting?

The nephew quickly looked around. Liv plastered herself to a tree, heart pounding. She peeked out again just as he took Grossman’s elbow and led him back out of Liv’s sight line.

Liv took the chance to move even closer, though she felt rather silly, jumping from tree to tree like a cartoon character. What would she say if they caught her? What would they say? She’d make sure to take the offensive.

And if Frankie Boy got violent, she had no doubt that she could hold her own against him. She’d taken out Cliff Chalmers one night, though it had been more of a case of him tripping into her fist. But, whatever worked. She’d spent good money on those self-defense lessons.

Little by little she narrowed the distance between them until she could see them standing in front of the derelict boathouse. She didn’t think it was still in use. It should have been torn down years ago. It was an accident waiting to happen.

They didn’t go inside, but stood facing each other. Then, abruptly, they shook hands and Grossman walked away. He was leaving. And coming right toward her.

Liv lunged behind a bush and held her breath while he passed by barely four feet away. She held perfectly still until she could only see his back darting through the trees.

She turned her attention back to the nephew. But he’d disappeared, too.

She had no choice but to stay where she was, surrounded by scratchy branches, and listen. He could be anywhere, but surely she’d hear him before he saw her.

But what she heard was a door creaking on rusty hinges. And when she got up the courage to look out of her hiding place, she saw that the door to the boathouse was open.

Frankie Boy must have gone inside.

Liv crawled forward and waited to see if he would reappear or if he had a boat there and would take off on the lake. After a good five minutes, he hadn’t left by water or by land. The boathouse wasn’t that big. What was he doing?

She began to get impatient, worried about her agenda for the evening meeting, but not willing to leave until she saw what he was up to.

When he finally came out, he was carrying a small suitcase, and Liv could guess what might be inside.

Of course. It hadn’t been the teenagers at all. She bet there was loot in that suitcase and he’d been storing pieces there until he had enough to… sell? Is that what he’d been talking to Grossman about? It didn’t make sense if Grossman was planning to buy the mansion and its contents.

Unless Grossman had also seen him pocket the little figurine and decided to confront him. Maybe that was why he left so suddenly. He’d seen Frankie when he’d been looking out the window.

This was definitely turning into a job for the sheriff. And she’d call him as soon as it was safe to leave. He would yell at her, but he might be able to stop Frankie before he got away.

She watched as he padlocked the boathouse, picked up the case, and walked away in the same direction the museum director had. But Liv was farther away now, and she just waited until she figured he’d had time to get to the gate and leave.

Still, she was careful as she backtracked to the gate, stood still listening before she stepped from the safety of the trees, then cautiously let herself out.

There was no sign of George Grossman or Frank Gallantine.

The whole thing was getting crazier and crazier, Liv thought as she walked back to Town Hall. Henry Gallantine missing, Rundle dead, Henry’s nephew helping himself to Henry’s possessions, Grossman insisting he owned Henry’s mansion and intending to prove Henry’s ancestor really was a traitor, Henry filling Leo’s head with tales of treasure, Grossman and the nephew in league together.

And Liv still had to finish her report for the committee meeting roundup tonight. Well, there was one thing she could take care of while she was walking back to town.

She called Bill.

His voice mail picked up the call. “It’s Liv. I’ve been at Gallantine House accompanying Mr. Grossman from the Onyx Conservancy, who is doing an inventory preceding his purchase of the property. Thanks a lot for insisting he have a public official go with him. That official was me.

“I met him there, and when Hildy let us in, Mr. Gallantine’s nephew was in the parlor. I’m pretty sure I saw him pocket a figurine off a display table before Hildy kicked him out.

“Now I’m on my way back to the office, but I saw the nephew and the museum guy just meet down by the lake. After Grossman left, the nephew went into the boathouse and came out with a suitcase. Don’t know if it means anything, but if you hurry you might catch him. There’s more, but—”

She heard a ping. Her time had run out, which was just as well. She’d give him the details at the office, where he would no doubt be waiting for her.

Where I’ll have Ted to run interference.
Because she was pretty sure Bill was going to blow a gasket over her spying on the men at the boathouse.

She hadn’t gone half a block when sweat began to trickle down her back. Inside the thick stone walls of the mansion, it had been cool. Out on the street, the humidity was high and even the breeze off the lake didn’t do much to make her walk comfortable.

Her stomach growled. It was after five and she hadn’t eaten since Dolly’s pastries that morning. If she hurried, she’d just have enough time to take Whiskey home, grab something to eat, and hurry back for the meeting. Which left her no time for her final preparations. But at least she might avoid having to face Bill on an empty stomach.

She needed to start concentrating on the meeting. She wanted to be super prepared tonight. There were bound to be questions about the demise of Jacob Rundle.

She passed the
Clarion
building and, though she tried not to look, she did. It looked just as deserted as it had before, not that it was ever a hotbed of activity. Still, she was a little worried about Chaz. He never wanted to get involved, but he always did, and he always complained about it. And he’d helped with Leo. She knew she could count on him in a pinch, but she could tell something was eating at him.

She wished she could help, but Chaz wasn’t one for sharing. Nor evidently was Henry Gallantine, nor Ted, who entered into every scheme or plan or idea with enthusiasm but never gave any information about his own past.

She, to her discredit, had actually done a search on Google for Ted and found nothing, an occasional mention in reference to Celebration Bay and its festivals, but no personal information. Of course, a lot of people didn’t have Facebook pages or websites. But until she’d moved to town, she hadn’t known anyone who didn’t.

Chaz was another story. She’d done plenty of research on him—strictly for purposes of information gathering of course—and he had a long trail of investigative reporting before he’d dropped out and moved back to Celebration Bay to take over the paper. After that, there had only been a few fishing articles until those articles about the kidnapping trial.

Losing that case must really be bugging him. For a few minutes when they were climbing around the roof of Gallantine House, he’d seemed like his old self, but it ended as soon as they’d gotten into Bill’s cruiser; he clammed up, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

Of course, it had only been one day, but usually he’d be right back, comparing notes with her. She would see him tonight; he was bound to be on hand to report the outcome of the meeting for the
Clarion
.

She passed the rectory and saw Leo sitting on a bench in the side yard. He was slumped forward, and at first she had a horrible moment of panic. She crossed the street to take a closer look. But when she got nearer she saw that he was just slouched forward breaking off pieces of a twig and dropping them on the grass at his feet.

“Leo?”

He jumped and cowered back. And that’s when she saw the dark bruise around his eye.

“Oh, Leo.”

“Got in a fight,” he mumbled.

“I can see you did. What happened?”

“I didn’t start it. Boy said I killed Mr. Gallantine. I didn’t kill nobody. Killing is a sin.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Liv sat down beside him. “When did this happen?”

“After school, when I was going to the bus. Missed the bus. Had to walk back here.”

“What are you doing sitting here? Did Pastor Schorr put something on that bruise?”

“He’s not here.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Leo shook his head.

“You don’t have a key?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe he’s over at the community center.”

He shrugged.

“Want me to walk you over and see?”

He shook his head. “Can’t go if you fight. Pastor don’t want fighters.”

“Well, it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“Don’t matter. Supposed to turn the other cheek. I hit him back.”

And good for you
, thought Liv. But she said, “Why don’t I call over there and tell him you’re home.”

“Don’t have a telephone.”

“I think I have his cell phone number.” Liv scrolled through her contact list until she came to Schorr’s entry and the several numbers she had for him. One of the convenient things about technology. Hundreds of numbers at her fingertips.

He answered on the first ring.

“Phillip Schorr.”

“Hi Phillip, it’s Liv.”

“Have you seen Leo? He didn’t show up at the community center, and the kids that go to summer school say he wasn’t on the bus. I’ve called his house—”

“He’s at the rectory.” Liv stood and walked away from Leo. “It seems he was in a fight at school.”

“I was afraid that might happen. Is he okay?”

“He’s got a shiner, but other than that he seems all right.”

“Tell him to come on over to the center; I can’t leave for another hour at least.”

“Well, he seems to think you don’t want him at the center… because of the fight.”

“Oh Lord. You never know if you’re getting the right message across to the kids or not. Can I talk to him?”

“Of course.” She handed the phone to Leo.

He listened for a minute and handed it back. “He says I can come to the center.”

“Can you—?” It was nearly six, only two hours until her meeting. No time for her to take Whiskey home. If she walked Leo over, Sharise would be closed by the time she got back, and Whiskey would have to have dinner compliments of the Quickie Mart. On the other hand, she didn’t want to risk any more trouble for Leo tonight.

“Why don’t I walk you over.”

He nodded.

While they walked the two blocks to the community center, Liv called Ted. “I’m running late.”

“I’ll say. Not to worry. Whiskey and I have taken our pre- and postprandial exercise—twice. We’ve both eaten dinner and we even left you some.”

“You are the best assistant ever. I owe you big-time.” She hung up.

Leo shuffled quietly beside her, his head bowed, his hands in his pockets. He seemed totally defeated. It must be challenge enough for him just getting through each day, and then to have something like this happen. It just wasn’t fair.

“I was over at Mr. Gallantine’s house today.”

He glanced over. “Did he come back yet?”

“Not yet, but I saw Hildy.”

“She don’t like me.”

“Well, I think she just doesn’t like anybody.”

“That’s what Mr. Henry says.” He pushed shaggy hair out of his eyes with both hands.

“You and Mr. Henry are good friends, though.”

“Yes ma’am. We play games and watch the movies. He used to be a movie star.” He broke into a smile. “He looked funny.”

“You must miss him.”

Leo nodded. “I wish he’d get back and tell them about the ghost. Nobody believes me. They think I don’t think right. But I do. Kinda.”

“Of course you do. Have you seen the ghost… other than the other night up on the roof?”

“No. Not up close.”

Liv’s attention pricked up. “But you’ve seen him at a distance.”

“Every year when he signals with the lantern.”

Liv repressed a sigh of disappointment. “Mr. Henry told you the ghost knew where the treasure was?”

“He didn’t have to. The ghost knows where the treasure is because the ghost is Old Mr. Henry, who got the treasure.”

“Ah. But Mr. Henry, the new Mr. Henry, likes to talk about the treasure?”

“Oh, sure.” Leo frowned, bit his lip. “He used to talk about it lots. We’d looked for it, just like pirates. All over the house. Sometimes we even dug in the yard.”

And what did that mean? That Gallantine really believed there was a treasure, or that he’d entered his own second childhood?

“We found lots of stuff, but we never found the real treasure. Then he stopped wanting to play. Said it was a stupid game and not to think about it anymore. Then he taught me how to play checkers instead.” He stopped on the sidewalk. “Checkers is okay, but not as much fun as looking for treasure.”

“No. I can see where it might not be, but I don’t think Mr. Henry would want you looking for the treasure without him.”

“No. He said not to look anymore. He sounded kinda mad. That it was like some lady’s box. I forget her name, but she’s like the radio. But bad things happened when she found it.”

A lady like the radio? It took Liv a minute or two to figure out what he was talking about. “Pandora?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Why do you think he said that?”

“Don’t know.”

They’d come to a block of old houses and businesses, several of which were unoccupied. The community center was set back from the street down a wide drive. It was a one-story wooden building with few windows but a wide cargo door. Liv could just see the words
Auto Supply
beneath the new coat of white paint.

She followed Leo to a pedestrian entrance, where he held the door for her and she walked inside.

Pastor Schorr, wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, was waiting for them at the door.

Leo hung his head. “I’m sorry, Pastor.”

Schorr clapped him on the back, then pulled him into one of those buddy hugs men do, rough and fast. But it seemed to make Leo feel better.

“Thanks for bringing him over.”

Several of the youths crowded around Leo. One of them was Roseanne Waterbury. She patted Leo on the shoulder and came over to Liv and the pastor, looking angry.

“It isn’t fair,” she told them.

“No,” Pastor Schorr agreed.

“It was bad enough before, but now with Mr. Rundle being killed, it’s worse.” Her expression changed from anger to expectation when she turned to Liv.

Liv anticipated her question, but couldn’t stop it.

“Can’t you do something?”

Pastor Schorr looked surprised.

“You know the sheriff is working very hard to get to the bottom of this,” Liv said.

“But you’re helping him, aren’t you?”

“Rosie…”

“Don’t say you can’t do anything, because I know you can.”

“Roseanne,” Schorr interjected. “I don’t think you should put Ms. Montgomery on the spot like that. Everyone is sympathetic to Leo’s situation, but it’s a police matter.”

“Sorry,” Roseanne said, and walked away.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Rosie is a good and caring young lady. She’s always been active in the church group and lately has become more involved with the center. She’s been a good friend to Leo.”

Liv watched Roseanne return to the group of teenagers clustered around Leo, so she didn’t miss the look of appeal Rosie shot her before turning away.

“As you can see, this situation has impacted all of us. Especially the young people.” Schorr sighed as he looked over the group. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been up on that roof if he hadn’t overheard that we might be losing the center.” He visibly shook himself. “Not that I think he had anything to do with Jacob Rundle’s death.”

“Of course not.”

Liv looked past him into the center. It was one large room with old couches, chairs, and tables clumped in groups around even older carpets, shags in orange and dirty gold. There was a Ping-Pong table and an old television, a microwave and an ancient refrigerator.

“Not much,” Schorr said. “But it’s an important place.”

“I can see that,” Liv agreed. There were over a dozen teenagers involved in various activities.

“And we have an adult program three mornings a week.”

“And you oversee it all?”

“More or less.” The pastor shrugged, smiled as he looked over the group. “They’re my sheep.”

By the time Liv left the center, it was well past six and she’d determined to help Phillip Schorr find a new, adequate, and affordable space. Just as soon as they wrapped up the Fourth of July events, she’d approach the board of trustees for their input.

Not that she was so altruistic—or nosy, as some would say. She did care about having a place for young and old to come for help and entertainment, but she was also selfish enough to not want crowds of teenagers hanging out in the park with nothing to do and ripe for mischief.

They had plenty of those even with the community center open six days a week.

She speed-walked her way back to Town Hall. She was hot and her slacks and shirt were feeling limp and rumpled. Well, it couldn’t be helped. There was no time to get home, cleaned up, and back unless she planned to go into the meeting only half prepared.

Unpreparedness was not an option.

• • •

Ted was waiting for Liv in his office with a sandwich and a can of seltzer. “Figured you didn’t need any caffeine for the meeting tonight.” He followed her into her office and put the food on her desk.