Stay Tuned for Murder (33 page)

I dragged my attention back to the podium. While I’d been daydreaming, Mayor Riggs had already opened a dingy aluminum capsule the size of a cocktail shaker and pulled out some documents.

He began listing them as the handful of television cameramen huddled around the platform zoomed in for close-ups. Big Jim was elbowing a reporter from WTVJ out of the way so he could take a better look.

“I have here the original copy of Ronald Paley’s gift of land to the city.” Mayor Riggs’s voice crackled a little over the microphone. “That’s right, folks. This is the deed to the land you’re standing on. The land this courthouse was built on.” He unfolded the paper and peered at it more closely. “You know, this is truly a historic document.” He passed it to the head of the town council. “Put this somewhere safe, Ed,” he joked. “I don’t recall seeing this anywhere else. This must be the only copy that survived the fire.”

“Would you like me to read it aloud?”

“Well, there’s probably nothing there but a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo,” Mayor Riggs said in a low voice. “No surprises, right?” He suddenly remembered that his mike was live and put on a somber expression. “But this is a good opportunity for us to thank the Paley family for their generosity over the years. Without this land, there would be no courthouse.”

Ed Taylor glanced at the document, and a shrewd look flitted across his face. “And according to this document, there will
always
be a courthouse here,” he said. “No Royal Palm Towers, just our very own courthouse. That’s what Mr. Paley intended, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

There was dead silence. No one reacted except Mayor Riggs, who drummed his fingers impatiently on the podium. He probably had a flowery speech all set to go, and I could see the news hadn’t sunk in yet.

There was a vague murmuring in the crowd, and one of the town council members, Norton Townsend, stepped forward and whispered something in the mayor’s ear. Mayor Riggs leaned forward, grasping the podium with both hands like he was on a sinking ship.

“What are you talking about, Norton?” This was followed by a nervous chuckle. “It sounds like you know something the rest of us don’t.” He shot Norton an annoyed look and turned his attention back to Ed Taylor. “Ed, on second thought, maybe you better fill us in.”

There was an edge of uncertainty to his voice. I had the feeling he was wishing he’d never opened the time capsule.

“This is a deed restriction to the original land gift from Ronald Paley. We should give this to the town’s attorney, but it seems pretty cut-and-dry to me. It says that this property can only be used as public land, never for any commercial enterprise. So no high-rises, no condos. Mr. Paley was very clear about what he wanted.”

I heard a muffled gasp and turned to see Mark Sanderson’s face go white. He had his arms folded across his chest as if he was literally holding himself together. In the space of a few seconds, his entire condo plan had gone up in smoke. It was like a magic trick. Now you see it, now you don’t. Good-bye Royal Palm Towers.

For a moment, Mayor Riggs was flummoxed. “Ed, we’ll have to discuss this later,” he said quickly. “In private. That document you’re holding—that wasn’t part of the original papers that were filed with the Paley estate.” He was obviously trying for a quick save, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Not much to discuss.” Ed Taylor gave a wry smile. “Everything you need to know is right here in black-and-white. This is a deal breaker. There won’t be any condo project on this land. Ever.” His voice was strong and carried all the way to the back of the crowd. “It’s like a voice from the grave.”

I gave a little shudder.
A voice from the grave?
Well, it was certainly true that Ronald Paley was reaching out across the years. Vera Mae nudged me and smiled. “Didn’t I tell you things have a way of working out, sugar? Our little town can stay just like it is.”

I stared at her. “You didn’t have any advance notice about this, did you?” Sometimes I think Vera Mae is the psychic one.

“No, but I had one of my feelings about it. We don’t need a condo project here in our Cypress Grove. And now it’s not gonna happen. It all worked out the way it was supposed to.” I had the feeling she wanted to give me a triumphant fist bump, but she restrained herself.

“Mark Sanderson looks pretty unhappy,” I said, gesturing to the developer, whose face had turned from ghostly white to ashen gray. “This is disastrous news for him.” His eyes were glazed, and he looked as if someone had kicked him in the chest. Hard.

“Cyrus won’t be doing the happy dance either,” she said. “Think of all that ad revenue sliding down the drain. We’re just gonna have to work harder with our local accounts.”

“So this is it? The surprise is over?” Nick said.

I nodded. News of the deed restriction was a shocker, and I figured it was going to be the big news of the day. I figured it would eclipse anything else that would happen.

I was wrong. Something even bigger was lurking on the horizon.

“There’s more,” Mayor Riggs said uncertainly. He pulled out a yellowing sheet of paper and examined it. “This seems to be a personal letter here that Ronald Paley wrote to . . . uh . . . one of his relatives.” He read a little further and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “This is not . . . Let me just say, the contents are very . . . uh . . . private.” He shook his head, his face reddening.

A little excited buzz went around the crowd, and Nick raised his eyebrows. “Private? Sounds like a juicy scandal to me. I bet Big Jim Wilcox is salivating at this.”

“Read it!” one of the Miami reporters shouted.

The mayor looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to read this letter in a public forum, but I’ll make sure this gets to the recipient immediately after the ceremony.” He looked around at the town council members, and I figured he was trying to find a way to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

“Bobby Hennessey is Ronald Paley’s grandson, his only living relative.” Nick frowned. “So what’s the big mystery? Where’s he going with all this?”

“I don’t know. But look at the expression on his face. I bet he never expected to be sandbagged like this. And I don’t think he’s talking about Bobby Hennessey.”

“You may be right.” Nick gave a wry smile. “Riggs probably figured today was a great photo op. All he had to do was unveil the capsule, pose for a few pictures, and call it a morning. Now he’s opened Pandora’s box.”

“And we both know how that turned out,” I quipped.

Mayor Riggs put his hand over the mike and had a whispered conversation with the town’s attorney, a reedy, nervous man, who’d joined him on the platform. After a couple of minutes, the attorney took the letter and stepped off the platform. Suddenly a silence fell over the crowd. Everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“There’s one final document in here.” Mayor Riggs’s voice trembled, and he took a deep breath. He looked like he was afraid to open it. I could hardly blame him. Somehow the time capsule ceremony had taken on all the drama of a reality show. “It’s a codicil to Ronald Paley’s will.”

“Uh-oh, now the real fun begins,” Vera Mae said.

We waited as the mayor read the document silently and shook his head slowly from side to side.

“He’s not gonna read it out loud?” Nick muttered.

The mayor cleared his throat. “I believe this codicil is genuine.” A long beat. “But again, the contents are private and affect the disposition of some very important property. There are legal implications to all this. I’ll need to notify the parties involved and meet with them and their attorneys later today.”

“Somebody’s going to get stung. I just know it,” Nick whispered.

“I hope you’ll all stay and enjoy the music”—he gestured to a brass band that was making its way down Main Street blasting a Sousa march—“and the Florida sunshine. Have a good day, everyone.” His voice was ragged, but he forced a smile for the cameras and made his way off the podium to some scattered applause.

“Let’s see where he’s headed,” Vera Mae said.

I watched as Mayor Riggs conferred with the town’s attorney, and then the two of them joined Trevor McNamara. I stared for a minute, trying to figure it all out. Trevor McNamara was involved—but how?

“Maggie, who is that guy talking to Riggs?” Nick’s tone was urgent.

“That’s Trevor McNamara. He’s staying at the Seabreeze.”

“Who in the world is Trevor McNamara?” Mom chimed in.

“He’s new in town. He says he’s looking for vacation properties in town.” Trevor McNamara was attracting some curious stares. He had his hand in his pocket, looking surprisingly calm and focused, talking to the mayor.

I saw Shalimar Hennessey out of the corner of my eye. She reached into her bag for her cell phone and started moving swiftly to the edge of the crowd. Interesting. She had a stricken look on her face, as if the news had hit her hard. But what were the implications for her and her husband, Bobby? I couldn’t even begin to guess.

The ceremony continued, but it was anticlimactic, like a party balloon that’s fizzled and gone flat. The handful of other items in the time capsule were held up for display, but they were mundane, of passing interest. Some handwritten recipes on yellowed paper, a bottle of laudanum for women “suffering from the vapors,” a geological map of the county. The only interesting item was a photo of the town’s first firehouse, complete with a Dalmatian. Odd choices for a time capsule. Either Mr. Paley wasn’t imaginative, or he really couldn’t be bothered with trivia.

“I knew it,” Chantel said softly. “I knew this was exactly what would happen.” I’d forgotten she was still standing behind me.

“How did you know?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Because I’m psychic, you silly girl.”

“And I’m a Victoria’s Secret model,” Vera Mae hissed as Chantel flounced away.

“What happens now?” I asked Nick. I saw Trevor McNamara walking toward the courthouse with the mayor and a couple of town councilmen. Apparently they were all going to get together privately and discuss Ronald Paley and the contents of the codicil.

“I wish I could get in on that meeting,” Nick muttered.

“Forget it. It’s going to be closed to reporters.”

“We can always use FOIA.” I knew Nick had used the Freedom of Information Act to gain access to other public records. Newspapers do it all the time. “But I bet the cops can get the information for themselves right away. All they have to do is say that it’s relevant to an ongoing murder investigation.”

“That’s an interesting angle.” I wondered whether Rafe was already on it.

I spotted Shalimar again. She had stopped near a park bench, and she was talking on her cell phone. She started moving away from the square, heading south, with the phone still pressed to her ear.

I was baffled, still trying to figure out how Trevor McNamara was connected with Ronald Paley.

Mark Sanderson, the real estate developer, was walking quickly toward his car, looking somber, and he also had his cell phone glued to his ear. Maybe he was calling all his investors, telling them the deal was off. Or maybe he was calling his accountant to tell him he was broke.

“Well, this has been fun, gang, but we still have a show to do. See you at the station, Maggie. Lola, if you need a lift, I can drop you off at home first. It’s right on the way.”

“Thanks. That would be great. I need to be in Miami by three for my big audition.” She gave a girlish giggle and a quick hug good-bye.

Vera Mae peered at me. “Maggie, are you sure you’re okay? You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frownin’ like that.”

“That’s what I always tell her,” Lola tossed over her shoulder.

“I’m not frowning. I’m thinking.” I gave a little distracted wave. “I’ll be there in a few.” I felt like all the principal characters were fleeing the scene and I was going to be left in the dark.

“Well, that wasn’t quite what I expected,” someone said behind me. I turned to see Gina Raeburn from the Cypress Grove Library.

“It was a total surprise,” I replied. I was still puzzling over the news about the deed restriction and the codicil. Two bombshells in one day. I suddenly remembered that Rafe was supposed to be collecting evidence at the library this morning. “Have the police been by this morning?”

“Oh, no. We’re closed for the morning, so our staff could attend the celebration,” Gina said lightly. “We don’t open till after lunch today. A lot of businesses are closed, you know.” She frowned. “Are the police planning on paying us another visit?”

“Possibly,” I hedged.

I was distracted for a moment, watching Shalimar making tracks down a side street. There was something furtive about her movements, and I wondered where she was headed.

Gina put her sunglasses on. “I better get going. I need to catch up on some paperwork at the library before we open.”

“Are you walking over there now? I’d love to go with you.”

She looked surprised. “Of course. I’d be glad to have the company. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“About the murder investigation?”

“No, something pleasant. I’m hoping you’ll be our key-note speaker at our annual fund-raiser. We’d love to have someone with your expertise.”

My cell rang just as I was pondering my answer. I flashed an apologetic smile at Gina, and she gave an understanding nod.

I flipped open the lid.
Rafe
. “You heard what happened at the time capsule ceremony at the courthouse just now?”

“Yes, I’m down at the town square right this minute. I heard the whole thing. Where are you?”

“I’ m back at the station.” He sounded regretful. Rafe hates to be out of the loop. “I have some information, though. Our contact at city hall just called us. According to that codicil, it sounds like the Hennesseys’ home, Magnolia Hall, is changing hands.”