Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (16 page)

“You’re probably right.” Though one of BeBe’s lattes was sounding really good about now.

“Anything to report?”

“Bunches, but I didn’t have time to double-check the agenda.”

“Not to worry. When you weren’t back by five, I did it for you.”

“You should ask the trustees for a raise.”

Ted snorted and handed her a page off the top of a stack of papers. “The agenda. Good enough?”

“Absolutely. I thought Bill would be here.”

“Bill?” Ted asked innocently.

Liv wasn’t fooled. When you spent as much time together as she and Ted did, you learned to recognize suppressed amusement. “I guess he called?”

“Yep. In trouble, are we?”

“Is that the royal ‘we’? Because I’m thinking I’d appreciate the company.”

“Uh-oh, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

He got up and shut the door to her office. “Well, whatever nothing was, Bill called and said he was out following your tip, but he wants to talk to you after the meeting tonight.”

“Gulp.”

“Actually what he said was, ‘Tell Liv not to even think about trying to sneak out without fessing up.’”

“Double gulp.” Liv sank into her desk chair.

“Lord, girl. What did you do?”

Ted sat down across from her. “So spill.”

She told him about the filching nephew, the less-than-forthright curator, their meeting in the woods, and the suitcase. “And Leo has a black eye. And Roseanne is mad at me because she thinks I won’t help him.”

Ted smiled. “A crusading spirit, our Rosie. Takes after her mother. And her father. But you can’t blame her.”

“I can’t do anything to help Leo. Bill will have to find a way to protect him until he catches the killer.” Liv sighed. “But Rosie didn’t want to listen to reason.”

“Because she looks up to you.”

“Oh, great. That makes me feel worse.”

“She’ll get over it. I put Fred’s traffic report and A.K.’s security report at the end of the meeting, along with Bill, who said he would like to say a few words. That way, if we keep moving things along at the beginning, we might make it through before the free-for-all over Jacob Rundle’s demise.”

Most of these wrap-up meetings were dull and boring but necessary. Liv was hoping for dull and boring tonight, though she wasn’t optimistic. Nothing stayed dull and boring in Celebration Bay for long. A blessing and a curse. “I guess there’s no way to avoid it.”

“In Celebration Bay? I bet attendance tonight will be the biggest yet. No one will be phoning in their committee reports when there’s murder to gossip about.”

Liv groaned and hid her face behind her hands.

“You’re tired. Eat your sandwich, and let’s get ready to rock and roll.”

Liv looked out at him between her fingers. “I think you enjoy all the hoopla.”

Ted shrugged.

Liv waited for what he might say next. Something about how he enjoyed excitement because of… what? Something in his past, some kind of wish fulfillment? Her man of mystery was just getting more mysterious, and the less he said about himself, the wilder her surmises about his past became. Itinerant storyteller? CIA operative? Nuclear scientist? Armchair detective? Nothing would surprise her.

“Well?” she coaxed.

“Eat your sandwich,” he said.

She ate her sandwich.

A few minutes before the meeting, Liv slid her laptop into her computer bag, gathered up her report folders, and pushed back from her desk. Whiskey, who had been snoring away ever since her return, opened his eyes, stretched, and got up.

“Sorry, big guy,” Liv said. “We’re not done yet. Go back to your nap.”

“Arf.” He padded over to her, and she leaned down to give him some attention. Something he was getting plenty of from everyone but her, it seemed. But starting next weekend…

“I’ll try not to be too long. Stay.”

Whiskey yawned and followed her to the door.

Ted was waiting for her by the door.

“Stay,” she repeated, and went into the hall.

“Poor dawg,” Ted said, and closed the door on Whiskey’s pitiful yip.

“Give me a break. He’s probably already back on his bed in doggie dreamland.”

“We did have a rather energetic day today.”

“Please tell me it didn’t involve holes dug in someone’s garden, chased cats, or stolen food.”

“No, just all-around guy fun.”

“I won’t ask.”

As it turned out, she didn’t have time to.

The front door opened, and Fred and Dolly Hunnicutt came in. Fred and Dolly were a matching pair, both stocky and pleasingly padded, good-natured, helpful, and open-minded.

Dolly had come straight from work, her blue gingham dress relieved of its apron, and her honey-colored hair pulled loose from a granny bun. Fred, who managed the books for the bakery and served as the head of the town’s Traffic Committee, was dressed in slacks and a striped short-sleeve dress shirt and tie and was carrying an accordion folder that probably held his traffic reports.

Fred waved and smiled at Liv, his nearly bald head catching the glint of the overhead lights.

They were accompanied by another man, who looked vaguely familiar. He was in his fifties, tall and lean with longish dark hair graying at the temples and a tapered beard streaked with white. And he was limping slightly.

Of course. Daniel Haynes, the descendent of General Haynes, leader of the patriot army, who played his ancestor in the reenactment, and one of the casualties of the evening. The general who’d sprained his ankle trying to get off his horse.

“Another successful weekend,” Fred said as Liv and Ted waited for them.

“For the most part,” she agreed.

“Liv, you know Daniel Haynes,” Ted said, addressing the other man. “He plays his very illustrious ancestor every year.”

“Yes, of course. Nice to see you. Your portrayal of General Haynes was very moving.” She decided not to mention the mishap with the horse.

They shook hands. Daniel Haynes had a firm grasp and a sparkle in his eye at her compliment. “I’ve done a lot of research into the role and what really happened that day.”

She smiled. Daniel Haynes evidently believed his own mythology. No one rushed to remind him that the Battle of the Bay was pure fiction.

“Uh, not the battle itself.” Haynes chuckled. “We all know the battle we present is a stretch of what really happened. But I have researched the period and the people involved, and the manner in which the battle would have been fought is quite historically correct.”

“Well, it certainly is impressive,” Liv said. “The planning and coordination it must take. How does everyone know when to start?”

Ted frowned at her. It was a stupid question coming from an event planner, but maybe Haynes didn’t know that.

“We rehearse two nights a week all of June. Every piece must fit together seamlessly. Once Henry gives the signal, Rufus texts it to Roscoe and myself. I still don’t know how Jacob Rundle ended up in Henry’s place. Sad business. It just doesn’t make sense.

“Is the mayor here tonight? I was hoping to catch him on another matter before we went inside, but I haven’t seen him.”

“He left earlier,” Ted said. “I don’t know if he’s planning on coming back.”

“Hmm. Maybe you know something about this rumor of some fella in town saying he was planning on buying the Gallantine estate and putting an end to the reenactments.”

Word spread quickly in Celebration Bay.

“Well, I hope it isn’t true,” Dolly said. “We’ve done that reenactment for years. First we’ve heard of him planning to sell. And what are we going to do if we can’t hold the battle there anymore?”

“Find another venue,” Fred said.

“The reenactment has been held there every year since it began,” Dolly said. “It would be such a shame to lose it. I can’t think of a better place to hold it.”

“That won’t be necessary as far as I know,” Haynes said. “I know that there was someone from this historical restoration group who talked to Henry earlier in the year. Henry wasn’t interested in selling then, and I haven’t heard since then that he’s changed his mind.

“Though, Hildy called me to say that this curator, as he calls himself, was in the house this afternoon, and you, Ms. Montgomery, accompanied him.”

“He had a letter of introduction. Bill said he had to be accompanied by a town official. The mayor sent me.”

Ted grinned.

“That’s what Hildy said. Well, she said you were there to prevent him from stealing anything. And that the mayor had told him he could have free run of the place.”

Liv didn’t answer. She had no idea what to say.

“Well, when Henry gets back I’m sure he’ll explain everything,” Dolly said.

“If he gets back,” Haynes said.

Dolly looked at him in astonishment. “Why wouldn’t he? He goes every summer to visit his sister and her family.”

“Well, he isn’t there now.”

“How do you know?” Dolly asked.

“Because I have a little business I need to clear up with him. I
am
his attorney. When I called, she said he wasn’t there and he wasn’t planning to come this summer.”

Liv started moving them toward the meeting room.

Haynes fell in step next to her. “I plan to meet this fella at the house tomorrow, take a good look at his letter of introduction. Sounds pretty smoky to me.” He nodded brusquely. “Nice to meet you. I’d best be getting inside. Want to compare notes with Roscoe. I have a few suggestions of my own for next year.” He strode off, tall, straight, and proud, touching on the arrogant, and with only a little limp.

Liv exchanged a look with Ted. Grossman had told them a lawyer was brokering the sale, but Haynes didn’t seem to know anything about the arrangement.

“Pretty smoky indeed,” Ted said, as if reading her thoughts.

“Don’t mind Daniel,” Fred said. “He takes his part in the reenactment very seriously. General Haynes actually led the troops supposedly betrayed by Old Gallantine. Gets on his high horse every Fourth. By August he’s back to this century.”

“There’s no leftover enmity between the two after all their history, is there?” Liv asked.

“Nah, water under the bridge. Besides, General Haynes was given a hero’s burial. If anybody was going to hold a grudge for centuries it would be the Gallantines.”

“Which,” Ted interjected, “has been known to happen in these parts.”

“Oh, Ted,” Dolly said, exasperated. “We’re more civilized than that.”

“Yes, we are, Dolly.”

“What I don’t get,” Fred said, “is where Henry’s disappeared to? And what was Jacob Rundle doing up on the roof instead of Henry?”

“Hush, Fred,” Dolly said, as several other committee members came through the door.

Fred lowered his voice. “It’s not exactly a secret he’s dead and Henry’s missing. You don’t think that Henry killed him, do you?”

“Fred, the very idea.”

“Sorry, Dolly, but it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?” He patted her back and acknowledged the newcomers. “Good evening, Charlie, Harriett. Loved the concert in the band shell last Thursday.”

Charlie and Harriett went ahead, and Fred ushered the rest of them through the door to the meeting room. Rows of tables and chairs were set up facing the dais where the mayor sat during town meetings and where Ted and Liv would sit tonight while the committee heads and select committee members each presented the results of the weekend.

It would be a long meeting, with reports from each committee, who would turn in full written reports during the next couple of weeks. Tonight was more of an info-gathering and idea exchange. Long, sometimes boring, occasionally argumentative, these roundup meetings invariably gave a better idea of the successes and failures of an event while memories were fresh and excitement still ran high among them.

To tell by the noise, Liv could already count the weekend as a success. Ted stopped to talk to someone, and Liv took her place at the front table, facing the others. Slowly everyone settled down and took their seats.

“Where
is
the mayor? Lying low so he won’t have to answer questions about the murder?” Liv asked when Ted sat down beside.

He looked toward the door. “Dare we hope? Oops, I spoke too soon.”

The door opened again, and Mayor Worley, looking preoccupied, ruffled, and like he wanted to be anywhere rather than at the meeting, walked in. The arm linked in his belonged to Liv’s nemesis, Janine Townsend.

“So close and yet so far,” Ted said.

“I am so not in the mood for Janine tonight,” Liv said.

Janine was one of those middle-aged women who kept herself fit. Frosted hair hung in a face-framing cut. She was tall and thin and made sure she stayed that way by constant dieting, trips into Albany to the spa, and shopping for power suits for her career as a real estate broker.

Even with all that, she still managed to find time to ride roughshod over the mayor and throw a wrench into Liv’s activities whenever possible.

Tonight she was wearing red patent leather heels and a navy-blue linen dress, accented with a string of pearls.

“Someone should tell her the Fourth of July is over,” Ted said under his breath.

Liv smiled. Janine was being patriotic. Liv had learned to read people and what they were wearing a long time ago. It was a necessity if you wanted to survive in the event-planning industry.

Janine was obviously presenting herself as an upstanding citizen, a member of the Junior League and old society, with its traditions and attitudes. All the things Celebration Bay was not, but some aspired for it to be. The pearls gave her away.

Liv looked around the room. Dolly in her gingham dress from the bakery. Genny in polyester pants and a cotton blouse. Quincy Hinks, owner of the Bookworm, in lightweight trousers and a vest. Roscoe in khakis and a plaid shirt from one of the discount chains.

Not even Liv had dressed up for the meeting. She hadn’t had time to change, but she would never have worn something so off-putting to the others.

The two of them came farther into the room, Janine propelling Gilbert to the front table, since there weren’t seats on the dais for them, and making the three members of the children’s play area move over. Gilbert shot one agonized look at Ted and Liv before lowering his head and staring at the plastic tabletop in front of him.

Things were not looking good for a quiet, boring meeting. Liv settled down, determined to push the agenda through with as little nonsense as possible.

The clock had just struck seven when the last stragglers hurried into the room, followed by Bill Gunnison and A.K. Pierce. Liv wondered if that had happened coincidentally or if they’d decided to meet ahead of time and compare notes. They moved to a table near Liv, and Bill gingerly lowered himself into a seat. At least his sciatica had waited until after the weekend to attack.

She turned on the table mic. “Thank you all for coming tonight. It was a wild and wonderful weekend… .”

Immediately after her opening remarks, Liv called on the first committee chairman to speak. She didn’t want to allow any time for questions to be asked about the murder, the sale of the mansion, or the whereabouts of Henry Gallantine, or for Janine to start a yelling match.

And things went well—for two-thirds of the meeting.

Each committee member gave a preliminary report about various aspects of the weekend’s event: vendors, bake sales, raffles.

Daniel Haynes stood for the reenactment report. “A wonderful evening,” he said in the round baritone of a trial lawyer. “I’d like to thank a few people. The Elks for the use of their building for storage and changing areas. Miriam Krause and the ladies of A Stitch in Time for the repairs and upkeep of the uniforms.”