Death by Committee

by Alexis Morgan

She didn’t have to fake the shudder of distaste. “In that case, I’m glad he didn’t manage to catch whatever he was chasing. Next time we walk this way, I’ll be sure to keep him on the other side of the street.”

  He looked past her at the house and land, shading his face with his hand. “That’s a good idea. Like I said, the place is infested with rats and other vermin, and the house itself is an accident waiting to happen. I’m hoping to clear this whole plot out soon, which should eliminate any pest problems.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  He sighed, his expression grim. “I’ve been hoping to build six new homes on it. Still will if city hall would stop screwing around and issue the permits I need to get started. Every day they delay costs me money, and my investors are getting twitchy enough to maybe pull out of the deal. I still don’t know why the planning commission listened to that interfering old biddy.”

  His frustration came across loud and clear, but then he apologized. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you. It’s my problem, not yours.”

  He hadn’t mentioned Dolly by name, but it was clear she was the one who’d thrown a wrench in the works for him. Abby wasn’t sure how to respond, but settled for simply saying, “I’m sorry, too.”

  He gave her an odd look. “For what? You’re not the one who blocked my building permits.”

  She shrugged and then smiled. “It was the only thing I could think of to say. My aunt always said, ‘when in doubt in a social situation, you can never go wrong with an apology.’”

  “Sounds like something my grandmother would’ve said.” Mr. Jeffries took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I need to get back to work. Enjoy the rest of your walk.”

  “Thanks, we will.”

  Zeke had stretched out in the grass, but he lumbered back up to his feet when she tugged on his leash. The two of them set off back the way they’d come. She didn’t want to appear anxious to get away from Mr. Jeffries, but it seemed prudent to put some distance between them as quickly as possible. At least he hadn’t asked who she was, nor had he identified himself, which was just dandy with her.

  She didn’t know if he’d recognize her name from the newspaper reports about Dolly Cayhill’s murder, but it was safer to err on the side of caution. If she’d met him under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have thought him threatening, and he wasn’t the kind of man who stood out in a crowd. But just because he was ordinary didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of violence if cornered.

  Clearly Dolly’s actions had caused him problems, but Abby had no idea if they were a minor inconvenience or much, much worse. Something else to think about when she got home.

  Maybe she hadn’t really learned anything concrete about Mr. Jeffries or anyone else who might have benefited financially from Dolly’s death, but at least she had some new avenues to explore.

  Feeling more energized than she had all day, she didn’t rush Zeke at all when he stopped to check out some extra trees on their way home.

  * * *

  “So how did the garage sale go?”

  Abby closed the lid on the box of odds and ends she’d just finished packing. “Really well, actually. Glenda and the other ladies were thrilled with how much we made. I guess we set a new record.”

  Tripp wandered into the garage with her to poke around the items she still had to box up. He seemed more curious than actually interested in anything he was looking at, so she filled another box, this time with books and magazines. After setting it over in the corner with the others, she looked around to see what she wanted to work on next. Then something caught her eye. There was that one thing she needed to take care of before she chickened out altogether.

  “That small box under the table there is yours.”

  Tripp glanced at it and then shook his head. “I didn’t leave anything in here.”

  She wished she knew how he would react to her buying him a present. To say the man was unpredictable was putting it mildly. There was only one way to find out. “You didn’t leave it here. It’s something I bought for you at the garage sale.”

  He moved marginally closer to the box, staring at it as if he thought the whole thing would explode. “Really?”

  When he nudged it with the toe of his shoe, she glared at him in exasperation. You’d think no one had ever surprised him with a gift. “Really, Tripp. Would you open it already? I promise what’s in there won’t bite, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t like what I got you.” Okay, that last part was a lie, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

  He finally picked the box up and carried it over to her makeshift table. It might have been smarter to look away, not wanting to see his reaction. Instead, she held her breath and watched as he lifted the flaps on the box and leaned in closer to look inside.

  A slow smile spread across his face, briefly softening the sharp edges that were his more usual expression. He reached in and pulled out one of the action figure soldiers that had reminded him of the ones he’d played with when he was a kid. Although he’d said he hadn’t wanted them, she hadn’t been able to resist buying them for him.

  One by one, he set them all out on the table before finally glancing in her direction. “I told you I didn’t want them.”

  “Well, I didn’t believe you. If I’m wrong about that, you can put them back in the box and set it over there with the ones I’m taking to the thrift shop donation center.”

  He studied them for a long time before speaking again. “That would be rude, considering you went to all the trouble to buy them for me.”

  That might be as close to thanks as she was going to get from him, but that was okay. The fact that he took such care putting them back into the box spoke volumes.

  “You and Zeke were gone a long time on your walk today.”

  “We went a different route.” Which was all she wanted to say on the matter.

  “Someplace interesting?”

  Leave it to Tripp to keep poking and prodding. It wasn’t as if he always answered when she asked him questions. Was he simply making conversation or had she done something to rouse his suspicions? She’d confess to wanting to see Dolly’s house, but she wouldn’t say a word about the farmhouse or meeting Frank Jeffries. After all, Tripp hadn’t been around when the man’s name had come up in the conversation.

  Or had he? Now that she thought about it, she and the other ladies been sitting out on the driveway eating their lunch when they were talking about Dolly and the problems she’d caused the man. Tripp hadn’t been in the immediate vicinity, but that didn’t mean anything. The man had some serious stealth skills despite his size.

  She tossed a handful of old screwdrivers into a box with more force than necessary. “If you must know, Glenda and a couple of the other women in the quilting guild had mentioned Dolly Cayhill’s house, and I wanted to see it for myself.”

  Tripp tucked his boxful of soldiers under his arm. “And I suppose while you were in the neighborhood, you also decided to look at the property she’d tried to block from being developed.”

  Well, rats, so he had overheard their conversation. “Yes, I did. Again, I was just curious.”

  Not for the first time, Tripp tried to intimidate her with his superior height. Glaring down at her, he snapped, “And if you’d run into the contractor? How do you think that would’ve gone?”

  She stood her ground, determined not to let him get the best of her. “For your information, it went just fine. Frank Jeffries doesn’t know my name, and he had no idea that I knew who he was. He happened to pull up while Zeke and I were . . .”

  When she didn’t continue, Tripp stepped closer. “Were what?”

  “Okay, fine. I wanted to look at the farmhouse that Dolly had tried to have declared a historical site, which would’ve prevented Mr. Jeffries from building new houses on that land.”

  The memory of the rat skittering across the floor still had the power to creep her out. “
I can’t imagine that dump was worth saving. The roof is caving in, the porch is half-rotted away, and it’s infested with rats inside.” Not the smartest thing she could’ve said. The only way she would’ve seen that last bit was if she was actually standing on those rotted boards.

  “So, not only were you on the man’s property, you were walking around on a porch that could have collapsed.”

  Not a question, but she nodded anyway.

  “Seriously, Abby, how many times do you have to be reminded that this is a murder case? Someone out there killed that old woman and tossed her body in a hole to rot. Do you have some kind of death wish?”

  Fury came off Tripp in waves, the power of it sending her staggering back a couple of steps. “No, of course not. I’m not suicidal.”

  “Well, you couldn’t prove it by me. It’s either that, or you’ve suddenly lost all common sense.”

  Enough was enough. There was no winning this argument with him, and they both knew it. “I’m done with this for the day.”

  And by that, she meant both working in the garage and dealing with Tripp’s overprotective nature. When he didn’t immediately give her some space, she gave him a small shove. When that didn’t work, she did it again, this time with a little more force. He stepped aside after a brief hesitation, letting her know without words that it had been his choice.

  He followed her outside, a silent but angry shadow on her heels. They both watched the garage door close as if it was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen. When it finally hit bottom, she stalked away.

  “Enjoy your evening.” Not that she really meant it.

  “I will. And thanks for the toys. It was thoughtful of you.”

  Oddly enough, she believed he meant that, which made her marginally less mad at him.

  But then he just had to add, “I’m meeting Gage to play pool later. Maybe I should let him know what you’ve been up to.”

  She spun back to give him a piece of her mind, but he’d already disappeared into his house.

  “Snitch.”

  As she walked away, she was almost sure she heard him say, “Sticks and stones.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Abby had already circled the parking lot at city hall three times looking for a place to park. As soon as she saw a car start to back out in the next row over, she gunned the engine to zip around the end of the aisle. Luck was with her because the driver backed out in the opposite direction, thereby blocking the car approaching from behind him. As a result, Abby managed to whip into the spot before the other driver had a chance. The elderly man drove on past shaking his head. She would’ve felt worse about commandeering the parking place, but she was already late for her appointment with the mayor’s assistant.

  After grabbing her purse and the small tablet she’d brought in case she needed to take notes, she hustled into the building. She paused inside the door to catch her breath before crossing the foyer to the part of the building that housed the city administrative offices. As soon as she walked in, she wished she hadn’t. Everyone in the room stood frozen in place as Frank Jeffries slammed his clipboard down on the counter and shouted at the poor woman standing in front of him.

  “No, for the final time, I don’t have an appointment! Regardless, I want to talk to the mayor, and I want to talk to her now. I’ve had it up to here—” he paused to slash at his forehead with the side of his hand “—with all the excuses and runarounds I’ve been getting, not just from this office, but the planning commission and that historical bunch, too. Every day they delay costs me money. The mayor makes all this noise about supporting small businesses. But from where I stand, she’s not doing a single thing to keep mine from going under.”

  Maybe a discreet retreat was in order. Before she made it back to the door, the mayor herself walked out of her office to join the conversation. The night Abby had met her, Rosalyn McKay had been both warm and friendly. Right now, she looked as if she could take on an angry bear without hesitation.

  “Mr. Jeffries, please lower your voice. People here are trying to work.”

  To Abby’s surprise, the man immediately shut up, but none of the tension in his stance softened in the least. Meanwhile, the mayor glanced around the room and gave the other city employees a pointed look, which immediately set everyone around her back in motion. Evidently satisfied that her employees had gotten the message, she gently nudged the other woman at the counter aside, so that she was the one facing Mr. Jeffries directly.

  “Connie, I believe Ms. McCree is here to see you. Why don’t you take her into the conference room while I see what I can do to help Mr. Jeffries with his problem?”

  Then the mayor opened the gate that separated the small lobby from the desks, her smile to the angry man only slightly warmer now. “Please come in. I have another appointment in about fifteen minutes, but we can talk until then.”

  After they were gone, Connie drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry about that, Ms. McCree. Some days don’t always go the way we plan. Come on back, and we’ll go over the information I’ve put together for you about the Committee on Senior Affairs. Would you like some coffee before we get started?”

  “I’d love some, and please call me Abby.”

  The other woman picked up a file folder from her desk before leading the way down a short hall to a door on the far end. “Go on in and make yourself comfortable. Feel free to glance through the file while I get the coffee. Cream or sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  “Great, I’ll be right back.”

  Abby took a seat at one end of the large table that nearly filled the room. She flipped through the depressingly thick stack of papers inside the file folder. It was a relief to see that most of it appeared to be informational in nature, the kind of brochures that were meant to familiarize a person with the services already available in town.

  Although she did her best to concentrate on the matter at hand, it was nearly impossible to ignore the sound of Mr. Jeffries’s still-angry voice coming through the wall that divided the conference room from the mayor’s personal office.

  There was a momentary lull in the noise just as Connie walked back in with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Abby and then winced when the racket immediately resumed.

  “Abby, I apologize again for . . . well, for the noise. He’s a local contractor. I’ve known him for years, and he’s not normally like that.”

  The temptation to do a little discreet snooping was irresistible. “I met him briefly just recently, and he seemed really nice. My dog had gotten away from me to chase some varmint in the long grass around an abandoned farmhouse. Mr. Jeffries happened to pull up just after I captured Zeke and was heading back down to the street. While we talked, he mentioned having some problems with getting the permits he needed to develop that property. I think he said he wants to build some new homes on it.”

  Connie nodded as she stirred her coffee. “He was all set to send in the bulldozers when one of the neighbors protested and everything got complicated. His is a fairly small operation, so a setback like this could prove disastrous for him. He wasn’t at all happy when I tried to explain that everything still has to go through proper channels, even if the person who originated the complaint is no longer living.”

  Abby debated how much she should admit to knowing about the situation. Finally, she said, “You’re talking about Dolly Cayhill.”

  “Oh, did you know—” Connie choked back whatever she’d been about to say. “I’m sorry, Abby. I wasn’t thinking. You were the one who found her.”

  “Well, it was really my tenant, Tripp Blackston, but I was there.”

  “Regardless, that must have been so awful for both of you.”

  The sound of a door slamming and the ensuing silence made it clear that the discussion between the mayor and Mr. Jeffries had ended. All things considered, Abby figured it hadn’t gone particularly well for him. Unfortunately, his abrupt departure seemed to remind Connie that the two of the
m were there to discuss Senior Affairs, not gossip.

  She reached for the folder and said, “Shall we get started?”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later Abby walked out of city hall into the bright sunshine. Thanks to Connie’s efficiency, she now knew a whole lot more about the issues seniors faced in Snowberry Creek than she had going in. Now she had to figure out what to do with all that newfound knowledge. The next committee meeting wasn’t for another three weeks, so she’d think about it later.

  Right now, all she wanted to do was go home, fix a cold drink, and doze out on the back porch. That wasn’t going to happen, though. She had just enough time to stop at the store for a few things and then have lunch before the executive board of the quilting guild was due to show up on her doorstep. She’d meant to warn Tripp they were coming. He’d mentioned yesterday evening that he planned to mow the yard that afternoon.

  Somehow she’d forgotten to tell him, and now he’d have to put up with them standing at her front window and giggling amongst themselves as he pushed the mower back and forth.

  She was sure her lapse of memory was due to having so many other things on her mind. It had nothing to do with the fact he’d threatened to snitch to Gage that she was still trying to figure out who’d killed Dolly.

  Maybe she’d warn him when she got back home. Maybe not. It all depended on her mood when she got there.

  The store was surprisingly crowded for the middle of the day, so she grabbed the few things she really needed and headed toward the checkout. Along the way, she ran into a familiar figure. Almost literally, as Frank Jeffries stepped out of a cross aisle to stand in front of her cart.

  She was pretty sure she squeaked at his sudden appearance. “Mr. Jeffries, you startled me.”

  He didn’t apologize. “I must say, you really get around, Ms. McCree. This is the third time our paths have crossed in a very short time. First, out at my property, then at the mayor’s office, and now here. Tell me, is that deliberate on your part?”

  “No, of course not. I had an appointment with Connie, the mayor’s assistant, and I was out of milk. Nothing diabolic about either of those things.”