“What about Burr Nelson? He lives in Kennedy, doesn’t he? Why was he in the Maverick yesterday?”
She whispered, “He hopes to keep the people in Kennedy from finding out he tipples. He figures if he drives to a bar in Lake Bronson, no one he’s acquainted with will ever know.”
“You know.”
“Yeah, but we’re friends. See, until recently, he was on the city council, and since I’m the city clerk, we regularly worked together. He’s a good guy. Not very bright. But really nice.” She palmed both sides of her beehive hairdo. “Anyhow, a month or so ago, when he started coming into the Maverick on a regular basis, I assured him his secret was safe with me.” She grunted. “That ended up being a complete waste of breath.”
“How so?”
“Well, yesterday afternoon Barbie’s husband, Tom, was in the bar. And, a while later, the President stopped in. They both know Burr, which means his secret is out.”
I leaned my head back, close to her face, and got dizzy from the smell. It was a mingling of Peppermint Schnapps, floral-scented hairspray, and a perfume I couldn’t identify. “But you just said there were only five people in the bar.” I bent forward and gulped fresh air.
“Let me explain.” She stepped around me and up to the plexi-glass, where she followed the action out on the ice as she spoke. “The people I first mentioned were in the Maverick when Owen was there. But, after a while, he left. He must have had an appointment of some kind because he kept close tabs on the time.”
She then yelled, “Come on, Billy, get after it! Yes! Yes! Good job!” She whirled around. “That’s my nephew. Number 10. He plays defense.”
Her grin lingered as she went back to relaying the activity at the Maverick. “Tom was really drunk. Of course, since he’s married to Barbie, I couldn’t blame him for getting shit-faced. Truth is, I expected him to start drinking long ago.” She weighed what she’d said. “I know you’re her friend, but that’s how I feel.” She bobbed her head for emphasis. “Anyhow, a while later, the President came in. I’d never seen either one in the place before.”
“Did they sit together or talk to each other?”
“Oh, no. The President’s too arrogant to hang out with a lowly music teacher like Tom.”
“Did you speak to either of them?”
“No. From what I could tell, Tom was too hammered to do much visiting. He sat next to Burr and, for the most part, mumbled. As for the President, we don’t communicate because of religious differences.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he thinks he’s God. I don’t.”
While I didn’t want to like Janice, out of deference to Barbie, I was nonetheless starting to do just that. She was funny, and I enjoyed hearing her bash the President.
“How long did the President and Tom stay?”
“I don’t know. I had to get back to Kennedy for Margie’s party. I left around five, and they were still there.”
“What about Tiny? Was he still there?”
“Oh, no. He took off a long time before that. In fact, he left right after Tom came in. I remember because Tom came in through the front door, and Tiny left by way of the back door, which I considered strange since his truck was parked out front.”
I mulled over everything she had said, and something didn’t add up. Another minute, and it came to me. “Janice, what were you doing in the Maverick during the middle of a workday?”
She was taking in the action on the ice and spoke without looking at me. “I’ve accrued so much vacation, I had to take this entire week off. If I didn’t, I’d lose the time altogether come the first of the year.”
The arena erupted in cheers, and Janice turned my way and jumped up and down. “We scored! We scored!”
I felt a smile shape my mouth. Her enthusiasm was contagious. “You certainly love hockey!”
“Yeah, I do.” She made an effort to settle down. “And I’m really ticked off at the city council for moving our regular meeting night. Now I won’t make all the home games.”
“Why’d they change the schedule?”
Her smile drooped to form a frown. “The President recently replaced Burr, and he wants the council to get together on a different night.”
When play resumed on the ice, she stepped forward, pressed her hands against the glass and tracked the puck. “He’s a jerk,” she muttered. “I swear he forced Burr off the council. I just can’t prove it.”
“How could he do that?”
“I’m not sure.” She slapped the glass and shouted, “Come on, Billy.
Check him! Check him!” She glanced at me. “All I know is Burr was fine after he fell into the lake. Hell, it wasn’t his first polar plunge. Even so, he resigned, and the President was appointed to complete his term, just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “One night at the Maverick I asked Burr about the whole ordeal, but he refused to discuss it. That alone told me something was screwy.”
“How can you stand working with the President?”
“I have no choice. I can’t retire.”
“How do you keep your sanity?”
She tapped the pocket where her flask was stored.
Yep, Janice was a real character, and I got a kick out of her. True, I didn’t have to spend a lot of time with her. Nor was I required to attend formal functions with her. And, while in her presence, I constantly had to chase away images of her and Boo-Boo bumping uglies. Still . . .
“Have you heard about that wind farm venture?” She posed the question seemingly out of the blue.
“Yeah, a little. That’s what Owen was working on when he died, right?”
“It was his job to court investors up here, although, at our council meetings, the President insists he’s the ‘point person in the area.’” She mocked the guy by making her voice low and official sounding for those last few words. “He’s only been on the council for two meetings, yet he’s already pushed through a half-million-dollar economic development loan for the project.” She licked her lipstick-stained teeth. “Burr voted against it when it came up a few months back.”
“How could the President do that?”
“Jam the loan through?” She immediately answered, “Easy. There are five council members, and two were in favor of the loan and three against. Once Burr resigned and the President came on board, the vote swung to three in favor.”
“That’s my point. The President shouldn’t have voted since he had a financial stake in the project.”
Janice gaped at me, her features suggesting I was extremely naive. “Who was going to stop him?”
“You. Other council members. Residents. Take your pick.”
She sniffed. “Like I said, I need my job. Besides, the other council members who voted for the loan also had money invested in the project.”
“What about the rest of the council? Why didn’t they object?”
“That’s only two people. And while they always do their best for the city, they can’t fight a majority.”
“Well, the residents can.”
“Emme, most people just want everyone to get along. In these small towns, we see one another all the time. There’s not much room for bad feelings.” She glanced at the ice, then back at me. “Nobody hardly ever attends council meetings, anyhow. And the minutes aren’t published in the paper. So council members can pretty much do as they wish.”
“And they get re-elected?”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
I didn’t know what to say. During one of my graduate school internships, I’d been tasked with reporting on local government. By the time I got through with my assignment, I had a basic understanding of how city councils were supposed to operate. But, from the sound of it, the President and his two council cronies weren’t about to let a few laws, rules, or procedures get in their way.
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. It was met with lots more cheering because Kittson Central had won.
“I have to get going,” Janice informe
d me after high-fiving the fans around her. “It was nice visiting with you. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Hey! Before you leave, I have one more—”
“Sorry, but I really need to go.” And, with that, she whisked herself toward the door.
As for me, I edged my way through the crowd, dropping my popcorn into the first trash can I saw. Had Janice Ferguson divulged anything useful? Granted, much of what she’d shared was fascinating. But useful? I wasn’t sure. Barbie would have to help me determine that. Hopefully, over the Cranberry Pudding she had promised.
Chapter Thirteen
WHEN I GOT BACK TO MY CAR, I found Barbie rocking out to Miranda Lambert on the radio. Together they were singing “Little Red Wagon.” I slid in behind the wheel and turned the volume down as Barbie screeched, “You can’t ride in my little red wagon. The front seat’s broken, and the axle’s draggin’.”
“You’re in a better mood. Your singing’s atrocious. But your mood is way better.”
She stuck her tongue out and switched off the radio. “I was going crazy just sitting here. Too much time to think . . . about everything. The murder. Tom. Our marriage. My future.” She hugged her midsection. “So, come on. What did you find out? Anything good?”
Outside, exhaust mingled with cold air, the resulting odor seeping into the car as I eased forward to wait my turn to exit the parking lot. “Did you know Tom was at the Maverick yesterday afternoon?”
“No, but it’s not a shocker. I warned him to get our money back. And since Owen Bair stayed in that area whenever he was up here, it stands to reason Tom would search for him over there.”
“Janice was in there, too. According to her, Tom was really drunk.”
“Janice was in the Maverick?”
“Yep. I guess she likes to go there so she doesn’t get roped into working in the Eagles or the ‘V’ on her days off.”
Barbie paused to ponder something, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with how Janice spent her free time. “I suppose it makes sense he was already drunk in the afternoon, considering the wretched shape he was in when I got home from Margie’s party.”
I FOLLOWED A PARADE of cars to Highway 75 before heading south through town, the scene in the Maverick the previous day, as described by Janice, occupying my mind. Tiny, Janice, Burr, the President, and Barbie’s husband, Tom, were in the place right around the time of Boo-Boo’s death, and each was linked to him in some way.
Tiny stayed at the same motel and visited with him in the bar during the evenings. Supposedly, the two of them, strangers in the area, enjoyed talking to each other for that reason alone. True, Janice suspected there was more to Tiny, but her take on the man was dubious at best. Since he’d rejected her advances, she may have been bitter and prejudiced against him.
As for Burr Nelson, he was the only one among the five with no direct ties to Boo-Boo, although he did give up his council seat, which went to the President, who used it to garner additional funds for the wind farm project. And that project involved Boo-Boo, so . . .
Then there was Tom Jenson. On the day of the murder, he arrived home late, drunk, and bruised, with little memory of his time in the bar or anywhere else. Yet, according to Barbie, he couldn’t have murdered anyone. He wasn’t the type. Then, again, who was?
The President. He was definitely the type. And to my way of thinking, he was the most likely suspect. He had a huge financial interest in the wind farm. He knew Boo-Boo. And he disliked him.
And you don’t like the President, Emme. Fact is, you pretty much hate his guts. Is that making you biased?
I tapped the steering wheel. Yeah, I suppose I was inclined only to believe the worst about the President. But that didn’t mean I was wrong.
THE SKY WAS PITCH BLACK and stretched on forever, millions of stars sparkling against it. Northern night skies never ceased to amaze me. Their vastness always hinted that the answers to all my questions were out there somewhere, if I only knew where to look.
I shuffled in my seat. What if I was wrong, and the President was innocent? Could the murderer really be an irate husband or boyfriend, as the guys at the bachelor party intimated and Barbie hoped? Not likely. Not in light of Boo-Boo’s remarks to me on the phone. Although I might have misconstrued them. I sort of was in shock at the time. I hadn’t expected to speak to him that day. Or any other day, for that matter.
As my attention veered from the sky to the road, pictures of the five people in the Maverick the previous afternoon passed through my mind once again. Since Boo-Boo was killed shortly after leaving there, I believed one of those five was the culprit. And when two of those faces worked their way to the front of my brain, as if more deserving of my consideration than the others, I muttered their names under my breath. “Tom and Tiny. Tom and Tiny.”
Out of respect for Barbie, I immediately skipped over Tom to focus on Tiny. I knew little about the man other than he had a thing for Barbie. And while that may have caused him to be jealous of Tom, I couldn’t comprehend how it had any bearing on Boo-Boo or his death. Still, his image, along with that of Barbie’s husband, continued to blink in my head like neon signs.
“Tom and Tiny,” I repeated on a whisper. “Tom and Tiny.”
“Huh?”
As Barbie uttered that sound, a notion struck me, and I blurted out, “Did Tiny and your husband ever meet?”
She made squinty eyes at me. “Yeah, a couple times. Why?”
“Did they like each other?”
“Well, they weren’t destined to be buddies, if that’s what you mean. But they got along. Why do you ask?”
Uncertain of the importance of my realization, I nevertheless had the strong sense it was worth examining. “Janice said that as soon as Tom came into the Maverick by way of the front door, Tiny left via the back. Now, Tom may have been too drunk to recognize anyone, but Tiny must have seen him. So, why didn’t he say hello? And why didn’t he mention to you that he’d crossed paths with your husband?”
Barbie appeared to turn that information over in her head. “Maybe he didn’t realize who he was. It’s been more than two decades. We’ve all changed.”
I didn’t buy that. “Tiny recognized you in a split second, Barbie.”
“Yes, but he was more intimately acquainted with me.”
She had me there. “Even so, I find it hard to believe that Tom looks much different now than he did twenty-five years ago. He still wears his hair in a ponytail, for God’s sake. He’s a complete throwback.”
She squirmed in her seat. “Why are you so concerned about Tiny all of a sudden?”
“I suppose it’s because Janice claimed he was ‘fishy.’”
“Consider the source, Emme. Consider the source.”
“But you, yourself, said there was something about him that kept you from revealing very much.”
“Hmm. I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well . . .” She cranked her head my way and tucked her foot under her thigh. “He asked about Tom more than once, which I thought was odd.”
“What exactly did he want to know?”
“How he was doing. Stuff like that.” Once again she mechanically tugged on her bustier. She really needed pulleys for that thing. “The more I think about it, though, the more logical his questions seem.”
“In what way?”
“Well, Tiny was well aware of Tom’s past. Lots of people were. I may not have mentioned it to you, but Tom was a drummer in some big-name bands out on the West Coast when he was younger. After he went through treatment at Hazelden, he gave up his rock-and-roll life and settled in the Twin Cities. He signed on with a good therapist, went back to college at the University of Minnesota, and got his teaching degree. That’s how I met him. I was a reporter for the college paper and did a profile piece on him. It got a lot of press. I was actually dating Tiny at the time, although things were already falling apart. Once we broke up, I called Tom.”
�
�Really?”
“Yeah. When I interviewed him, he asked me out. I said I couldn’t go because I was involved with someone else. He gave me his number and urged me to contact him if my situation changed. And that’s what I did.”
I SLOWED AS I APPROACHED KENNEDY, colorful Christmas lights outlining the buildings and shining brightly against the snow.
“What else did Janice tell you, Emme?”
“Well, she went out with Boo-Boo exactly twice. Then she dumped him.”
“Or he dumped her, which is far more likely.”
“She also said Burr Nelson and the President were in the Maverick yesterday, around the time of the murder. And while it wasn’t unusual for Burr to spend time there, she’d never seen the President in the place before.”
She made a noise that indicated interest.
“Barbie, she believes the President somehow coerced Burr into giving up his spot on the council. And as soon as the President got on board, he and two other council members approved a half-million-dollar EDA loan to support the wind farm project, even though they had no business doing that since all three of them had invested their own money in the operation.” I hung a left at the Community Garden, where snowdrifts were the only things currently blooming.
“She must have been referring to Booger Bernstrom and his cousin Delmont. They’re on the council, and they’re the President’s minions. Always have been. They’re loyal to a fault. In fact, if it came to implicating the President in any type of wrongdoing, they wouldn’t say shit if their mouths were full of it.”
That was disgusting. Even for Barbie. “Booger’s one of the regular hot dish cook-off competitors, right?”
“Yeah, but how did you know about—”
“It’s not important.”
As I maneuvered the rutted alley behind the VFW and the Hot Dish Heaven Café, I spotted Randy getting into the SUV that served as his squad car. He must have seen me, too, because he got right back out again.
A Potluck of Murder and Recipes Page 11