“Why?”
Ted looked confused. “No reason.”
They walked in silence back to the office. She hoped the witches weren’t cause for alarm; they seemed like normal people. Though they had done that circle thing. But Liv knew the power of suggestion: The protester feared evil, equated them with evil, so was cowed when confronted.
“Simple psychology,” she said, mainly to herself, as they walked up the steps to town hall.
“What is?” asked Ted.
“Oh, just that ranter and his fear of witchcraft.”
“The women did seem rather sweet.” Ted sounded relieved. He held the door open. “I would like to see their Samhain ritual.”
“Are outsiders invited?”
“Don’t even think about adding that as an event,” A.K. said.
Ted and Liv both stared at him.
“They wouldn’t like the commercialization, and there are more where that street corner howler comes from.”
“Volatile situation,” Liv said.
“Volatile.”
Ted and A.K. followed Liv into her office. Liv sat and riffled through the folders on her desk for the one marked Security.
“Did you know they were friends?” A.K. asked.
“Amanda and Yolanda? No. I really only met Amanda recently and Yolanda briefly on Saturday.”
“I think he means Jonathon Preston and Amanda.” Ted looked particularly bland-faced.
“No, he never mentioned it. Why?”
Neither of the men spoke.
“What? You think we’re on the grant list because of Amanda? That would be a case of overkill, wouldn’t you say? She already donated ten K to the winner. Though from what people say, she could finance the entire center if she wanted to.” Liv paused.
“She could, but I can’t imagine why she would want to,” Ted said. “It’s not like she’s ever in town or shown an interest in what goes on here. Strange that she should come forward now. Perhaps this guy Preston suggested it.”
Liv narrowed her eyes. “Because he isn’t going to approve the grant request and he’s trying to soften the blow?”
“It’s a possibility.”
Liv hadn’t allowed herself to wonder what would happen if they didn’t receive the grant money. She knew it was a crowded market, everyone working on shoestring budgets. And friends didn’t get priority. Which was why she’d hired a professional grant writer to help her draft a proposal.
She pushed it out of her mind and opened the security folder. For the next few minutes they discussed the usual points in crowd safety.
“Bill has assigned extra patrol cars for the weekends, especially the actual Halloween weekend,” A.K. said. “I’d like to add at least eight more operatives on foot. And four additional sets of two operatives at each major event location within the town limits.”
“Do you have any specific locations in mind?” Liv knew it was a stupid question. Of course he did. He was a man in control. “What I mean is—”
“At the Lindquist site, at each quadrant of the park during the zombie parade, and outside the movie house before and after the play.”
“You think there might be problems at the theater?”
“That play Little Shop of Horrors has a cult following, and any time you have passionate people, things are easily ignited.” He looked seriously at Liv.
Over a man-eating plant? Still, Liv’s mouth went a little dry. “Well, yes. I see how they could. And how much will this cost me?”
He reached in his briefcase. Handed hard copies to Ted and her. Kept one for himself.
It had a hefty price tag. But not nearly as hefty as the fallout from too little security might be. The town had insurance that they paid an exorbitant premium for. It was one of the few things the trustees all agreed on. No one wanted to get sued for negligence. Or anything else.
Liv pulled up the budget file on her laptop. They were getting to the top of their security budget and there was still Thanksgiving and Christmas to get through before the new budget would be considered. “Ted?”
“I think A.K. is right. We can cut down some for the next two holidays, mainly keep security on shops and parking lots.”
Liv nodded. “Do you what you need to do.”
A.K. nodded and put his papers back in the briefcase.
“But keep me posted on the hours and services. I don’t want to have to go to the board and beg for more money.”
The corner of A.K.’s mouth twitched.
She’d amused him. She smiled back at him and shrugged.
The phone rang and Ted went into his outer office to answer it, leaving A.K. and Liv half smiling at each other.
Ted was back a minute later. “They found Lucille Foster’s car.”
“Where?” Liv asked.
Ted sat down. “In the parking lot over behind the bakery and the other stores.”
“And they’re just finding it now?”
“Hidden in plain sight,” A.K. said, his deep voice rumbling.
“Do you think that was it? Was whoever killed her trying to hide the car? Why not dump it in a back alley or off a deserted road?”
“I’m sure that’s what the police thought. They were looking for an abandoned car.” A.K. turned to Ted. “Did Bill say if they found any signs of struggle?”
“No, not on first inspection, but they’re having it towed and will have a forensics team look over it.”
“Did they find her shoes?” Liv asked.
Ted shook his head. “But he’s still on site.”
No one needed encouragement; the three stood simultaneously and headed for the door.
They retraced their steps past the Corner Café but turned into the alley before they reached Yolanda’s store, the Mystic Eye.
“We were just here and didn’t hear or see anything. Thank heaven,” Liv added. “That’s all we need Jon to see.”
They hurried past the side of the Mystic Eye and went through the opening to one of the town’s several parking lots. This one took up most of the interior of the block, stretching the length of the stores on the main square.
Lucille’s Jaguar was already sitting on the bed of an Arlen Towing and Plowing flatbed truck. Several police cars were parked nearby, preventing anyone from entering the area, though they had attracted a fairly large crowd that huddled around the several pedestrian openings that led across the alley to the stores. The county crime scene van was just pulling away.
Bill saw them and walked over. He was moving slow.
Liv sent a quick prayer to the sciatica gods that he would make it through this investigation without pain.
Bill placed both hands in the small of his back and stretched.
“You okay?”
“Yep.”
“They’re taking Lucille’s car away already?” Liv asked.
“We’ve been here for a couple of hours.”
A.K. lifted his eyebrows toward the sheriff.
As if he’d asked the question, Bill said, “Doesn’t look like it was used. But we’re taking it in for a thorough forensic look.”
“What about her shoes?” Liv asked.
Bill shook his head. “We searched the vicinity, underneath cars, in the Dumpsters. Nothing. I’d better get back.”
“Bill,” Liv said quickly. “Is Ernie still in jail?”
“Had to let him out. There’s nothing as yet to connect him to Lucille’s death. He’s still under suspicion of vandalism, but until we can prove it, we can’t keep him. Not that I want to. What a dumb-ass thing to do.”
“If he did it,” Ted said.
“Who else would?” Liv asked.
Ted gave her a look. “You’ve been here a year. I bet if you set your mind to it, you could name a dozen possible candidates . . . without even thinking much
.”
“You think the vandalism might just be coincidental to Ernie lashing out about losing to Barry?”
Ted threw up both hands. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know anything.”
And if Ted didn’t know anything, it meant neither did anyone else. Because it didn’t matter how hush-hush something was, how deep the secret, no matter how tight lips were over any bit of news, Ted always knew. He was Celebration Bay’s Gossip Exchange Central. Yet Liv had hardly ever caught him actually gossiping. He just seemed to learn what was happening by some kind of osmosis.
“Well, let us know what and when you can,” Ted said. “We have to get back to the office. Liv has a lunch date.”
Bill eyebrows shot up. “A date or a meeting?”
“A meeting and luncheon with Amanda Marlton-Crosby and her husband and the representative of the grant foundation.”
“Oh, well, have a nice lunch. I hope you get lots of money for the community center.” Bill nodded to them and went back to work.
“Well, we’d better get you back if you going to primp for your luncheon date.”
“Would you stop it? It’s just business.” Liv glanced at her watch. No time to walk home and get to the inn in time. They’d just have to put up with her work clothes. Besides, Amanda and Rod were pretty casually dressed.
Liv headed for the town hall ladies’ room and freshened up as best she could with the scant makeup she carried with her, then headed to the inn.
Jon was sitting in the foyer reading a newspaper when Liv arrived promptly at one. He saw her, folded the paper, and put it on the table next to him. It was a copy of the Celebration Bay Clarion.
“Just catching up on the local news. You have a very active Four-H Club here.”
Liv couldn’t tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. “It’s their busy season,” she said, straight-faced.
He laughed, a friendly baritone sound that invited more laughter.
“You should see some of the pumpkins they’ve grown,” Liv continued. “Not to mention the animals. Unfortunately you missed the county fair.”
“Yes, most unfortunate.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Amanda and Rod will be here soon. She volunteered him to help move some boxes for Yolanda and company. She just called to say they were on their way and to get a table.”
He guided her into the dining room, a bright windowed room that overlooked the lake. The tables were covered with white linen tablecloths and napkins.
Liv rarely ate here, preferring the bar across the foyer, which had a low-key, casual environment couched in dark wood wainscoting and tall-backed booths.
The hostess showed them to a table set at a diagonal to the windows, giving all four diners a bit of view. Jon held a chair for Liv, then sat in the chair to her left.
“So fill me in,” Liv said as soon as the waitress had taken their drink orders, Liv’s a seltzer with lime and Jon’s a Pellegrino.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling in that same attractive way they had when they’d first met. She’d been coordinating a fund-raising weekend for several related charities. His smile had separated him from the other suits, though he was serious and questioned every line item on her budget.
In those days she didn’t have to worry too much about tight budgets, thanks to well-heeled fathers of the bride, corporate executives with a seemingly unlimited entertainment business, or oil men visiting the city and inviting the crème de la crème of society for a weekend cruise.
One of Liv’s great assets had been to recognize who would spend what and how far they were really willing or able to go.
“Are we talking business already?” Jon asked.
“No, well, not exactly. But last I heard you were in Bangkok or someplace until this coming weekend.”
“True. Is this a problem?”
“Of course not. I’m just surprised.”
“Well, I finished up early. The organization there has to have a total restructuring before we can funnel funds into it. Much too much waste. So I came back until they get it together. No one was pleased, not on our side or theirs. Nor me, I’m still jet-lagged.
“I meant to take a few days to get back on daylight savings time and catch up on some sleep before I came up here. But the best-laid plans and all that . . .”
“I didn’t realize you knew Amanda.”
“Oh, we’re old chums. Though I haven’t seen her for ages. Our fathers are on some of the same boards and the families belong to those clubs you always made fun of.”
“I did not. It was just when you showed up to the Hart’s meeting wearing that ridiculous-looking yachting outfit.”
“And I’ll tell you what I told you then.”
“I remember.” Liv lowered her voice and said primly, “‘This is the official Yacht Club uniform.’” She bit back a laugh. “Though I have to admit you looked awfully cute.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “If my father heard that, he’d have an apoplectic fit. And I, of course, would never say that you look just as cute as a fresh-faced country girl.”
“Well, if I’d known you were going to show up out of the blue, I would have dressed accordingly.”
“No, no, I love the way you look.” He sighed heavily. “Actually I envy you the comfort factor.”
“So you decided to pay Amanda a visit before your official visit?”
“Yes, a rather delicate subject, which . . .” He looked toward the entrance doors, smiled, and waved. “I’ll tell you later. Though I must say you wear country with much more panache than poor Amanda.”
He was right about “poor” Amanda, at least as far as her wardrobe. Standing beside Rod, she looked like she was dining alone. He’d made an entrance while she sort of drifted in beside him. Liv didn’t understand their relationship unless she defaulted to the obvious: He married an heiress and she married a stud. Behind their smiles, neither of them looked very happy.
They crossed the room, Rod dutifully resting his hand on the back of Amanda’s drab canvas jacket. Liv knew the jacket cost hundreds, but Amanda wore it like it came from the closest thrift store.
“Did we keep you waiting long?” Amanda asked as soon as Rod had pulled out her chair next to Jon.
“Not at all,” he said. “Liv and I were just catching up.”
“That’s right. You’ve worked together before.” Amanda gave Liv a warm and friendly smile.
“A few times,” Jon said.
And several more when she had been working an event and he’d been a guest.
“How did you and Yolanda meet?” Liv asked.
Amanda smiled. “College. We both went to Middlebury.”
“And did you know the others, there?”
“No. Yolanda didn’t develop an interest in Wicca until after graduation. When we were in school, she was an avid skier, studied languages. She planned to become a translator for the UN, that is until she decided to go over to the ‘light’ side, as she calls it.”
Liv laughed. “I take it you didn’t join her.”
“No, no, we haven’t seen each other in years. We reconnected on Facebook and when she found it necessary to relocate her store—she was having some problems where she was before; small minds, you know—I suggested she visit Celebration Bay. She fell in love with it here. And the building was perfect for her, the way the last person had fixed it up to be all natural wood.”
“Does she know its, um, history?”
“Yes. It’s not a problem. She knows how to cast out bad spirits.”
The waitress returned with menus and conversation ceased while they listened to the specials of the day. Liv’s attention didn’t make it past the appetizers. She was too busy wondering what had happened to Yolanda’s former store, whether she had she brought those problems with her, and if one of them was the end-of-the-world predictor.
Chapt
er Eleven
It only took a few minutes for Liv to realize it was going to be a long lunch. There were undercurrents roiling around the other three. Jon hardly touched his food. He was as alert as a hunting dog, though the analogy wasn’t really apt; more like an urban damage control consultant.
Rod began complaining in a too loud voice. “We were ready to close up and get the hell out of here, when Amanda decides to let her friend’s coven rent out the fish camp for their woo-woo weekends. I just hope they don’t trash the place.”
Amanda gave Rod a look that was somewhere between patient affection and steel magnolia.
“You know they’ll do no such thing.” She patted his hand, which had been reaching for his Manhattan glass. “Yolanda has pedigree. You’ll barely know they’ve been there. Just a little light cleanup and you’ll be done.”
Liv felt a frisson of chill run up her back. She didn’t think she had mistaken Amanda’s undercurrent of malice. She remembered Chaz saying that Rod wanted to go to Miami for the winter. Liv had just presumed he was a user, but something told Liv that Amanda could hold her own in that relationship. She just wondered whether any of it included love.
Liv glanced at Jon, who was looking out the window toward the lake. She wasn’t sure how he fit into the Marlton-Crosby equation and she really didn’t have time to figure it out. She just hoped that once he was staying at the inn, rather than with the Malton-Crosbys, he’d be free to concentrate solely on the grant. She needed his full attention so she could convince him of the need and viability of the community center.
“And besides,” Amanda continued, “I wanted to be around to award my donation personally. I think Barry Lindquist did such an excellent job. Don’t you, Liv?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. Excellent.”
“That’s the man whose haunted house was vandalized?” Jon asked.
“Yes.”
“What is going to happen to it?”
“If Barry can’t get it back up and running, we’ll default to the runner-up.”
“That would be a shame. The Museum of Yankee Horrors was quite good. Unique,” Amanda said. “It was one of the reasons I decided to donate the money outright. I mean, who doesn’t love a good haunted house.” She sighed and placed her napkin back on the table. “It’s a pity someone was malicious enough to wreck it, not just for Barry but for everyone.”
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