Trick or Deceit

by Shelley Freydont

  “We heard that they suspect the runner-up of trashing the place,” Rod said.

  “Ernie Bolton.”

  “Pretty dumb thing to do. It’s kind of obvious.”

  “Well, they took him in for questioning, but there doesn’t seem to be any evidence.” Liv frowned. “Jon, don’t get the wrong idea. This is usually a very safe town, but we have a lot of visitors throughout the year.”

  “I’m not complaining. I thought I was going to be bored up here in the hinterlands, but I didn’t even get half this much excitement in Bangkok.”

  “Yolanda was telling us about it,” Amanda said. “How awful. Poor Lucille. Isn’t that just awful, Rod?”

  Rod looked up from his roast beef sandwich. “Uh-huh,” he said and kept chewing.

  Jon cast him a disgusted look. “Evidently Yolanda heard it from the woman who runs the fabric store, I forget her name.”

  “Miriam.”

  “Right, who heard it from the lady at the bakery.”

  “Dolly.”

  “Just one big happy family,” Jon said.

  “Usually,” Liv said.

  “You don’t think someone wanted to kill her, do you?” Amanda asked.

  Rod patted her hand. “She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Like she saw something she shouldn’t have seen?” Amanda’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Maybe she recognized Ernie vandalizing the place and tried to stop him.”

  “They don’t know for sure that Ernie did it,” Liv said.

  “Who else would have reason to destroy Barry’s hard work?” Ron asked. “Or . . . With Barry’s place trashed, wouldn’t the ten thou go to the runner-up?”

  “This Ernie was the runner-up, right?” Jon asked.

  Liv nodded.

  “Does he need money for any reason?”

  “Who doesn’t need money?” Rod said.

  Something flashed in Jon’s eyes. Liv thought it might be disgust. Yes, there were definitely undercurrents going on between those three. Liv just hoped it didn’t take Jon’s mind from the business of the grant.

  “What are you thinking?” Jon asked, and his amused expression was back.

  “Me?” Liv asked.

  “Yes, you. I know that look. You’re way ahead of the rest of us.”

  “Not really.” Mainly she was just worried that they might lose the grant and Amanda’s ten thousand dollars. “Just that the town is pitching in to help. The entire cast of Little Shop of Horrors plus the sewing group at A Stitch in Time are all helping to refurbish the museum. We have every hope that they’ll be ready to open in time.”

  “But will the police be ready to release the area in time?” Jon asked.

  “I’m sure they will.” Liv was getting anxious for the check to come. Not only did she have to prepare for tonight’s meeting, but she wasn’t sure how much she should be talking about Lucille’s murder with Amanda, Rod, and Jon. She didn’t want the case to color her project with the foundation.

  The waitress finally brought their check, and Jon reached for it. Rod didn’t try to argue, just sat there like he knew someone else was going to pay. Liv was pretty sure somebody—Amanda—always did.

  The four of them walked out to the foyer. The Marlton-Crosbys said their good-byes and headed toward their car.

  Jon lingered behind for a minute. “Thanks for joining us, Liv. I know you’re busy and I’m a few days early.”

  “I’m always busy, but I’ll always be glad to see you.”

  He gave her a light hug. “I’ll be moving into the inn on Wednesday. If you can arrange some time for me in between your busy schedule, I’d love for you to show me around town a bit.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “And maybe have dinner?”

  “I would love to do that, too.”

  “Great. Until then.” He jogged down the steps to the Range Rover and climbed in the back.

  Liv watched them go. She was getting a funny feeling about all of this. Sort of like the fly probably felt when he first stepped into the spider’s parlor.

  Liv walked back to the office, wondering why Jon hadn’t called or texted in advance to let her know he would be in town earlier than expected. And when exactly had he arrived? Had he said? Today? Yesterday? The day before? If he’d been here for the award ceremony, surely Amanda would have brought him with her. Or was he really here early to check things out by himself?

  She considered stopping by the Buttercup for a shot of caffeine but decided to check with Ted first.

  He was reading a thick, oversized soft-covered book. “Tax code,” he said without looking up.

  “Do we have a problem?”

  “No, just checking, but we do have a mayoral emergency meeting of the judges committee this evening at seven that we’d better prepare for.”

  “How? It will just be ranting and screaming and nobody will be able to hear the other guy and nothing will get solved.”

  “Is this really Celebration Bay’s most illustrious and successful event planner I’m hearing?” He followed her into her office.

  She sat down at her desk. “Sorry. Sometimes I just feel like I’m always juggling odd objects.”

  “You are, my dear. The secret is not to let the ax fall on your head.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel better.”

  He bowed himself out of her office. It was true, but it was funny. Lighten up, Liv, she told herself. It could be so much worse.

  • • •

  They convened that night at seven. Since there were only the members of the judging panel, plus the mayor and Ted and Liv, they were using the smaller meeting room at the east end of the building.

  Since Liv knew Janine would be at the meeting, she changed into her meeting suit, which she kept hanging in the event office closet, and traded her loafers for a pair of three-inch heels.

  A quick trip to the ladies’ room, where she twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her head and reapplied lip gloss, and she was ready for all their questions.

  Which made her laugh, since she didn’t haven’t any answers.

  “Ah, I see you’re wearing your power suit tonight,” Ted said. “I hope that isn’t Jonathon Preston’s influence.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “He’s not going to try to lure you away, is he?”

  “Of course not. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, though sometimes I do wonder what possessed me to sign a two-year contract.”

  Ted raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

  They joined Jeremiah Atkins, who was just coming in the door. Jeremiah was the president of the First Celebration Bank. He looked just how Liv imagined a small-town banker would look. White hair growing thin on top, just the beginning of a paunch above the belt of his suit pants. Tonight he’d traded his jacket and tie for a navy blue cardigan sweater.

  They nodded to one another.

  “Terrible business about Lucille,” Jeremiah said.

  “It truly is,” Liv agreed.

  “I don’t suppose the police have any leads . . . besides Ernie, that is?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I,” Ted added.

  “I don’t suppose anyone has even considered Barry.”

  Ted and Liv shook their heads.

  “I mean, he did have that altercation with Lucille’s husband over the failed senior complex.” Jeremiah shook his head. “I don’t know why people don’t ask the advice of their regular banker before they go off and commit their hard-earned savings to some get-rich-quick scheme.”

  Liv made appropriate noises as her mind connected the dots. Barry had lost money in one of Carson Foster’s investment plans. Ernie gave away property to his ex-son-in-law, who later sold for a
profit . . . to Carson Foster.

  Could either of those have any connection to Lucille’s murder?

  The door to the meeting room was open and they walked in to see the other three members of the judges committee already seated. Roscoe Jackson was sitting next to Janine, who appeared to be trying to convince him of something. Probably to figure out how to pin the latest disaster on Liv, since that seemed to be Janine’s primary reason for staying close to the business of town hall.

  Rufus Cobb was already chewing on his mustache, a sure sign that he was agitated.

  And the meeting hadn’t even started yet.

  Jeremiah sat down next to Rufus. Ted and Liv took a seat along the wall.

  “Guess who’s MIA,” Liv said under her breath. She wasn’t surprised. Chaz had inherited the trusteeship from his father and pretty much considered it a waste of time. Evidently there had been a Bristow on the board of trustees since the beginning of time, so he was stuck. “Do you think he’ll come?”

  “Anybody’s guess.”

  As much as Chaz annoyed her, she knew he could be depended on—most of the time—to stand with her and Ted. Liv had a feeling that she could use him here tonight.

  The mayor came in and the others stopped talking. He stopped at the head of the table and Liv was glad to see he’d left his gavel behind. He was a firm believer in “the louder you bang, the more they quiet down.” They never did, but it didn’t prevent him from liberally sprinkling every meeting with ear-splitting hammering.

  He stood at his place, looked around the room, and sighed. “Ted and Liv, you might as well come sit at the table since it looks like we’re all here.”

  Liv automatically looked toward the closed door. On cue, it opened. Chaz Bristow sauntered in, looked around the table like he was surprised to see them, then sat down opposite the mayor.

  Liv looked down to hide a smile.

  “Oh boy,” Ted said under his breath. “He’s in a mood tonight.”

  He and Liv moved to the table.

  “I think you all know why I’ve called you here tonight,” the mayor began.

  Only Chaz shook his head.

  “Because, Chaz, we have to find a replacement for Lucille on the judging committee.”

  “Why? The judging is over.”

  “Well, we all thought so, but there may be a need to choose another winner.”

  “You have a winner and two runners-up. Isn’t that enough?”

  “The winner was vandalized and the first runner-up is in jail. We cannot have the official town haunted house owned by a criminal.”

  “Now, Gilbert,” Jeremiah said, his deep voice the voice of reason. “Nothing has been proved against Ernie. In fact, I hear they let him out and he’s back at home.”

  “Maybe not. But they haven’t figured out who did it. I think we should postpone inaugurating the haunted house until next October. Since I have the whole board of trustees here, I think we should vote.”

  “Wait,” Liv said, half rising from her chair. “There hasn’t been any discussion on this.”

  The mayor automatically reached for his gavel, realized it wasn’t there, and stood. “Doesn’t matter. Things are a mess.”

  “Again,” Janine added.

  Liv gritted her teeth. One day, she thought. One day, Janine, you will see what a real Manhattan event planner is capable of.

  “We’ll have to cancel.”

  “Gilbert.” Ted’s voice was sharp edged. Liv blinked. Even Chaz, who had been pretending to doze, turned to look. “You haven’t stopped to look at the financial considerations. Much less the suits that will follow.”

  “Suits?” The mayor tugged at his collar. “What suits?”

  “All the people asking for their money back, plus compensation for their work and supplies, and hours they put in on their entries because it was for a good cause, part of a fund-raiser to aid the town. Over one hundred people paid to enter the contest, knowing they wouldn’t win, but just to support the event. That will be a big drain on the town’s coffers.

  Roscoe looked alarmed, Rufus chewed faster on his mustache, Jeremiah nodded wisely.

  “And if Mrs. Marlton-Crosby rescinds her donation, then we’ll be back to square one, with the addition of a lot of hard feelings and uncertainties about our ability to move forward on the community center. Plus, many others donated money to the fund-raiser itself. Who’s going to tell the townspeople that their money won’t be used for the community center but to pay for all those suits that will be lining up at your door?”

  Liv was amazed. Chaz looked a little dazed.

  “The representative of the VanderHauw Foundation has already arrived and met with Liv today,” Ted said.

  The mayor looked from Ted to Liv.

  “He wasn’t supposed to be here until this weekend,” Janine said.

  Ted shrugged. “He’s a very busy man and he fit us in where he could. He’s interested, but not if we throw in the towel. We’ll become the bad risk among funding organizations. Is that the kind of reputation you want Celebration Bay to have?”

  The mayor shook his head. He seemed to be stuck for words. He looked around the table and stopped at Liv.

  “Liv, can you guarantee that Barry’s museum will be up and running in time for the Halloween kickoff next week?”

  Janine stood. “Of course she can’t.”

  For a nanosecond Liv thought Janine might be sticking up for her.

  “Liv’s the reason we’re in this mess to begin with. Whose idea was it to have this official haunted house? Hers.”

  “I suggested a fund-raiser for a new community center. The board came up with the idea of the haunted house contest.”

  “Not me,” Chaz said.

  “And what have you made? Twenty thousand dollars? Get real. That’s not even a down payment on a building. This is just another one of her harebrained schemes to land us in trouble. She’s obviously out of her expertise. She was a party planner before she came here.”

  Liv had had enough. She stood. Ted pulled her back down, and he stood instead.

  “Janine, you’re just spewing venom. We’ve all seen Liv’s résumé, and we know what she’s done for this town. You couldn’t find a more experienced event planner. And I’m getting a little sick of your sour grapes.”

  “Ted,” Liv said. She tugged at his sweater, telling him to sit down.

  Janine rounded on him. “And you know less than she does! I don’t know how you got this job.”

  Ted opened his mouth and started singing “I’m Still Here” from the Sondheim musical Follies.

  The members of the board stared openmouthed.

  Liv clamped her hand over her mouth. She’d never seen Ted so outrageous before.

  Chaz wore an expression of unholy glee. He looked at Liv and mouthed, Holy sh—

  Janine snapped her head toward the mayor. “He’s out of order!”

  “Be quiet, Janine,” Roscoe said.

  “Everyone just stay calm,” urged Jeremiah.

  Gilbert tried banging on the table with his palm to no avail.

  Chaz held his sides, laughing.

  Ted stopped singing; Liv took a deep breath. “Mr. Mayor. Barry is certainly doing everything he can to get the museum in shape for the opening. He has quite a few volunteers helping out. Let’s give him a chance to restore the displays before we do something we can’t undo.”

  The mayor looked from Liv to Janine, who shook her head, and to the other three board members, who nodded in unison.

  Gilbert huffed. “Okay, but Liv, make sure it gets done. No more screw-ups and no more murders.”

  As if they were Liv’s fault.

  “Do you understand?”

  “But—”

  “We won. Let’s go.” Ted grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her out of the r
oom. “Good night, all.”

  Liv pulled away. “I’ve had it with their petty, incendiary—”

  “Party of the first part,” said Chaz from behind her.

  She turned on him. “Just be quiet. I don’t need you making fun of me on top of everyone else.” She yanked her arm away from Ted. “Great speech,” she said, and stormed off down the hall.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ted and Chaz were still standing in the hall when Liv emerged from the events office a minute later, carrying the clothes she had changed out of to the ladies’ room to change back into them. It had been stupid to change anyway. Janine would always be better dressed than Liv unless she pulled out her NYC wardrobe and those shoes she’d relegated to the back of the closet. And Liv wasn’t willing to do that. For dinner with Jon maybe, but not to impress Janine.

  Ignoring the two men, she slipped into the ladies’ room, changed back into her day clothes, and pushed the door open.

  Chaz was standing on the other side. “Better than a phone booth.”

  “Are you comparing me to Superman?” Liv snapped.

  Chaz yawned. “No. I was comparing the bathroom to a phone booth.”

  “Aargh.” Liv pushed past him and strode down the hall in her bare feet.

  She made it to the events office door before she realized she was holding her shoes in her hand.

  Shoes. You took off your shoes and carried them when . . . it was raining or muddy, at the beach, when you were in hurry to get someplace—or to run away. Why had Lucille Foster taken off her shoes? Where had she left them? Where had she gone after the award ceremony?

  They’d searched the vacant lot twice, looked around the outside of the museum. Even ventured into the neighbors’ yards. It was the end of October. Cold. Wet. Not a time to be barefoot. Where were Lucille’s shoes?

  She stopped at the office door, dropped her own shoes to the floor, and shoved her feet into them. Ted’s hand appeared before her and turned the doorknob. The door swung open and Liv went inside, followed by Ted and Chaz.