A Game of Cones

by Abby Collette

  I shook my head, having to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t wait here—when she comes out, she’ll see us.”

  “Where is Rory?” Maisie asked.

  “I sent her to Black Market Paper,” I said.

  “Why? To interrogate them again?”

  “No,” I said. “And we’ve never interrogated them. I sent her to take her mind off of this. She didn’t want to come inside and she loves art. She’s an artist.”

  “And a coffee aficionado?” Maisie asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Maisie nodded her understanding. “I don’t blame her for going. I’d be freaking out, too, if they were going to arrest me for murder.”

  “No one is going to arrest her for murder,” I said, not believing Maisie would say such a thing.

  “Okay, if you say so. So, since she’s not here, we can wait downstairs. There’s a bench in the annex to the police station that faces the door that goes out. We’ll see Veronica when she leaves and we can tail her and see what else she’s up to.”

  “How will we know what was in the envelope?”

  “We could sneak back into the mayor’s office and see.”

  “No, we couldn’t!” I tried not to shriek. “That would be breaking and entering, and probably a whole bunch of other things that are illegal.”

  “Then how will we find out?”

  “Maybe we could just ask her when she comes out?”

  “Yeah, and how do you think that’ll go,” Maisie asked, her hand going to her hip. “She didn’t answer any of my questions when we went to her room at the inn.”

  “Okay. You’re right.” I eyed Maisie. “And we don’t have the ‘Designer Wear Whisperer’ with us.”

  “Rory?”

  “Rory. So then what?” I asked.

  “We follow her,” Maisie said. “That’s the only thing we can do until we figure out something else.”

  Hadn’t I just said that?

  “Okay—” But before I could finish my sentence the door to the outer office swung open. It made Maisie and me nearly jump out of our skins. We bumped into each other and both had to muffle screams. The mayor smiled at us as if it was a usual occurrence for him to scare people lurking outside his office.

  Mayor Greer had been in office for three terms. He was always smiling, but I never took it as him being happy, only being a politician. He was in his midforties with all-white hair, another product of the job, I assumed. He had soft blue eyes, always behind rimless glasses, and an athletic build. Most times he was seen riding his bike to work. But it was well known around the village that his eating habits were anything but healthy.

  At least five foot ten and 160 pounds, he always looked good in the blue or tan suits he liked to wear. Today’s suit was blue, and he wore a baby blue tie to match.

  “Win!” he said. “I’ve been meaning to stop by your family’s ice cream shop. I need an ice cream cake.” He pulled the office door shut. “It’s for Cecelia.” He used his thumb to point back to where he’d just been, indicating his administrative assistant. “Her birthday is coming up.” He patted me on my shoulder. “I have someone in my office now, but if you could just wait a minute, I want to talk to you about it.”

  “Sure,” I said. I tried to avoid eye contact with Maisie. I knew she’d be ecstatic about the opportunity to get into the mayor’s office.

  “You can wait just inside there.” He pointed to the reception area of his office. “I’ll be right with you.”

  “Okay,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Surely I didn’t want to sit there and let Veronica see me.

  Veronica already knew we suspected her, and with us having to wait for the mayor in the reception area right outside his door, she’d probably figure out we had followed her. Too big of a coincidence for us to just happen to be going to the same place. I swallowed hard.

  If Veronica was the killer, Maisie and I were in hot water now.

  chapter

  TWENTY-SIX

  I watched as Mayor Greer made his way down the hallway. I peeked inside the doorway into the reception area and found, but for Cecelia, it was empty.

  I backed into Maisie, stepping on her toe. She let out a yelp, which made Cecelia look up.

  “May I help you?” she said.

  “No,” I said, waving a hello. I put on a smile. “I mean, yes, we’re waiting to talk to the mayor, but we’ll be right back.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Maisie whispered, her voice strained as we stepped back into the hallway and I eased the door shut.

  “I don’t know,” I said, the strain in my voice matching hers. “Can you believe he wants to talk to me?”

  “No. I can’t believe it,” Maisie said, “but it is providence.”

  I rolled my eyes. “One good thing, at least we know Veronica didn’t come to shoot him.”

  “At least not yet,” she countered.

  “It must be Rhys Enterprises business,” I suggested. “She did say someone else was coming from the company to take care of the project, remember?”

  “I remember.” She nodded. “You know this means we can’t follow her now to see what else she’s up to. Not if you have to talk to the mayor.”

  “I can talk to the mayor by myself,” I said, “then you can still follow her.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Maisie said, like what I had suggested was unthinkable. “Not with the possibility of that envelope being in the office. I want to know what’s in it.”

  “It may not be anything. And how are we supposed to find out anyway? We can’t take it.”

  “You could distract him.”

  “No!” Maisie was definitely a fan of “by any means necessary.” “Plus, I don’t think she’d bring the murder weapon and give it to the mayor.”

  “Unless they were in it together.”

  I hadn’t thought about that.

  “Well, either way,” I said after I’d let that comment sink in, “we can’t wait in the reception area until she comes out. That might not be good for us.”

  “Where did the mayor go?” Maisie asked. She leaned to the side to see around me.

  “I don’t know,” I said and turned to look the way he disappeared. “To the restroom, maybe?”

  “Oh,” she said.

  I snapped my finger. “What a good idea.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “We can go, too,” I said.

  “Go to the restroom with the mayor?” she asked.

  “No. Just go to the restroom. We can wait there until Veronica leaves.”

  “How will we know when she leaves?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But c’mon.” I grabbed her arm. “Let’s check it out. We can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”

  “What about if she comes into the restroom on her way out?” Maisie asked.

  “Cross your fingers she doesn’t.” I channeled the Dixby sisters’ mentality. “Or we might just have to take her out.”

  * * *

  MAISIE AND I managed to make it into the mayor’s office without being seen by Veronica Russell. Although I think that Maisie secretly wished she had stopped by to use a stall. She’d come up with a dozen scenarios of how we’d overtake her and force her to confess.

  “Have some chocolate,” the mayor said as we sat down in two leather nailhead chairs that were in front of his desk. He pointed to a crystal bowl that sat atop it.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “I’ll have some,” Maisie said and grabbed a handful.

  “So, Mayor Greer, you could have just called. We could’ve taken your order for the cake over the phone.”

  “Oh, no problem,” he said and grabbed one of the chocolates and popped it into his mouth. “You were here and . . .” He
cocked his head to the side and licked his finger. “Why were you here standing outside of my office?”

  “Oh,” I said. Maisie and I exchanged glances. “Uhm, we just came as concerned citizens,” I said. Thinking I’d use the same story as I had with Veronica.

  “Yes,” Maisie chimed in. “We were wondering why you decided to side with being in favor of a mall coming to Chagrin Falls.”

  His smile left and he sat up in his seat. “I don’t know what you mean,” he huffed. “I’m not for any mall.”

  “We saw you bringing Zeke into the SOOCFA meeting,” I said.

  “He was a visitor to our fair city. God rest his soul.”

  “Didn’t he ask you to come to support him?”

  “No,” the mayor sputtered. “He came to the village, and I just wanted to show some hospitality.” He hung his head, it seemed to me insincerely. “Shame what happened to him. Especially with the fact he was our guest.”

  “You came in with Amelia Hargrove,” I said.

  “No.” He shook his head and started stroking his tie. “I didn’t.”

  I decided not to argue with him. I knew what I’d seen and didn’t know why he’d deny it other than that she was probably one of the ones who had sold her store to make way for the mall. I couldn’t corroborate with Maisie that they’d entered together—she was too wrapped up in Zeke and his message to have noticed anything else.

  “Do you know if she sold her building?” Maisie asked. That was her method of weeding shop owners out. It was also typical of her to jump from suspect to suspect. I was guessing that Amelia may as well be next on her list.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he said. “How would I know?” He shrugged. “But I can say unequivocally, you have never heard me suggest or speak out in favor of a mall coming to Chagrin Falls. We’d just turn into Woodmere Village.” Lips pursed, he shook his head like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Traffic jams and with nearly a two-to-one ratio of residents to businesses.”

  “You don’t know whether Amelia Hargrove sold her business and is closing shop, or you don’t know whether you came into the meeting with her?” Maisie asked.

  “Amelia . . . uh . . . Ms. Hargrove is a fine, upstanding citizen and longtime resident and business owner in the village. Her store has been here for more than thirty years.”

  That was politician doublespeak. His response had nothing to do with the question we’d asked.

  “If there is some big Texas company coming in buying parts of Chagrin Village, don’t you think you should know about that?”

  He raised an eyebrow at Maisie’s questions. “Who says I don’t know anything about it?” He cocked his head to the other side. “What are you ladies trying to do? I find you lurking outside my office, and when I tell you, Win, that I have business for you, you come into my office and don’t mention one word about it.”

  “I am trying to extend my community garden.” Maisie spoke in my place.

  “Is that why you’re here?” he asked, his eyes traveling from one of us to the other. “To see about expanding your garden. Have you run that idea past my office?”

  “I might not need to if someone has already bought up all the land and the buildings surrounding it.” Maisie tilted her head to the side to match his angle. “Something, I’m thinking, you may have had a hand in, since you were just meeting with Veronica Russell of Rhys Enterprises.”

  Maisie had spilled the beans. There went the idea of being discreet out the window. I could only hope she wouldn’t mention the envelope.

  “What did she bring you in that envelope?” Maisie asked and let her eyes roam across the top of his desk.

  Geesh! I hung my head. I was going to make Maisie write the meaning of “tact” on the menu chalkboard in my ice cream shop one hundred times.

  The mayor’s eyes followed Maisie’s. There was no envelope like the one Veronica had been carrying on his desk, and when he locked eyes with Maisie again, he smiled.

  “When and if the time comes for me to speak to the village about the existence of a mini mall here, I will make a public announcement.” He turned and looked at me. “Win, I’ll see if Davis Bakery can’t supply me with a cake.” He stood up and walked to his door. “You ladies have a good day.”

  It was the second time in the course of an hour that we had been thrown out of somewhere without finding out one single thing about Zeke Reynolds’s murder. I’d say our investigation was going downhill quicker than hot fudge could melt soft-serve ice cream.

  chapter

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Maisie and I made our way out of the administration building by way of the steps in record time. Walking back into the heat made me frown—the air inside had felt good. Once back outside, I shielded my eyes from the bright sun with a cupped hand and looked up and down the street. I wasn’t sure if Rory had left or not, when I told her maybe she should wait for us elsewhere.

  “What now?” Maisie came up behind me. “Wanna try and find Veronica?”

  “I think we should try and find Rory,” I said. “We can head back toward the car. See if we see her.”

  We walked down West Washington not speaking about what had happened in the mayor’s office. I was sure Maisie wasn’t ever going to vote for him again, and I was also sure he was going to have a word or two about me with my grandfather. Maisie’s concerns were legitimate, but he acted as if we were the kids who kept throwing balls into his yard, breaking windows.

  As we rounded the corner onto North Main, I saw the car but no Rory.

  “I wonder where Rory went,” I said. “I hope she did go to the gallery.” I was feeling protective of my friend. I didn’t want her going over the edge again.

  “She probably went back to the ice cream shop,” Maisie said. “And if not, we can walk over to the gallery. I’m sure she’s okay.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. Looking over toward the ice cream shop I spied Riya coming our way. She spotted us at the same time and started waving.

  She was dressed in white short shorts and a red belly shirt. Riya had the right idea on how to dress for the weather.

  “Hey,” she said. “Where’ve you guys been?”

  “The police station.”

  “No!” Riya said. “To see that cute detective?” She fell in step with us, turning as we headed back down the way she’d come. “Why didn’t you take me?”

  “We didn’t know where you were,” Maisie said. “And why would you want to see that bumbling idiot detective?”

  “He is not a bumbling idiot detective, and he is not cute either,” I said.

  “I was at the ice cream shop.” Riya looked back toward where the police station was located. “I had the afternoon off, and I knew I hadn’t been around. Thought I’d come to help.”

  “Your hospital work, saving lives and all, isn’t as rewarding as dipping up scoops of ice cream?” I asked.

  She chuckled. “It is. But get this. Imagine my surprise when I got there and your Aunt Jack is behind the counter.” She widened her eyes as if letting me know she knew that was a bad thing. “Waiting on customers! What is that about?”

  “I know,” I said and huffed. “She was there and I needed to leave to help a friend. Wilhelmina’s not coming in tonight because I needed them both to work tomorrow night. It’s Family Chef Night.”

  “Who’s gonna do the cooking?” Riya asked, her face lighting up in anticipation.

  “My dad,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m coming,” Riya said.

  “Me, too,” Maisie said, clapping her hands.

  “Was Aunt Jack doing okay?” I wiped the sweat off my forehead. It was warm out, but just thinking about Aunt Jack at the ice cream shop made my temperature rise. “She is not happy with what I did to our family’s novelty shop. No telling what she’d do while I’m gone.”

  �
��You mean your family’s ice cream shop,” Riya said, correcting me like I didn’t know.

  “Not if Aunt Jack has her way,” I said. “I mean, what’s so bad about an ice cream shop selling ice cream?”

  Riya and Maisie chuckled. “That is a little crazy,” Maisie said.

  “Was everything alright?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but I could tell she wasn’t happy about it.” Riya waved her hand in front of her face. “She was sweating and grumbling. Huffing and puffing. Barking at the customers like she was the big bad wolf.”

  “I don’t even know why she’s back in Chagrin Falls,” I said.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Riya said. “But it looks like you’ve got something way juicier going on. Spill.”

  “What are you ladies doing?” A man’s voice came up behind us and interrupted before I could answer Riya. “Riya, you know these girls?”

  I turned around to meet a face that sported a wide smile, too big to be genuine seeing I didn’t know who he was. He was dark skinned, with short, silky black hair and a heavy Indian accent. He wore a light brown linen suit, a blue button-down shirt and a polka-dot tie.

  “Uncle Garud,” Riya said. “Where did you come from?”

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” he asked, a greasy grin on his face.

  “My friends?” she questioned, then turned to look at us before resting her gaze on him. “Why?”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on them,” he said, and he struck the side of his nose with a finger before stuffing his hands down in his pockets. He rocked back on the heels of his shoes, like he’d just discovered the answer to a pressing question and was awaiting his reward. “Following them. I am surprised that you have such friends.”

  “That’s creepy,” Maisie said under her breath.

  “Stalking is illegal, Uncle Garud,” Riya said flatly. She didn’t seem to have much patience for the man, but she was polite just the same. “You should mind your own business.”

  “Hmph,” he said. “I watched them follow the young lady that came out from Rose Cottage,” he said. “That’s what’s illegal. I am an upstanding citizen of the community.”