Brandon zipped up his jacket before replying. “He said she was a mess. He thought she was drinking again.”
“No surprise there,” replied Bernie.
“I guess not. He told her she had to have a doctor’s note if she called in sick one more night,” said Brandon.
“Another DWI and she’s going to be going to jail for a long time,” said Bernie.
“She’s going to be going to jail for an even longer time if she killed Amethyst,” replied Brandon.
“True,” Bernie agreed. “And she could have. After all, she knows how lasers work.”
“If that’s what was used.”
“I’m guessing fiber-optic laser wire,” Bernie informed him.
Brandon stared at her. “Where do you get this stuff from?”
“Well, I was reading an article on a new piece of work Jacobs is doing.”
“Jacobs?”
“The sculptor, uncultured one.”
“I’m cultured. I like yogurt.”
Bernie faked a groan. “Anyway, it got me thinking that that would fit the bill. It’s light. It’s quiet. It’s easy to manipulate.”
“Why not a samurai sword or a machete?”
“Not enough blood.”
“Maybe she was killed somewhere else and moved.”
“Maybe,” Bernie agreed. “But I don’t think so.”
“Your feminine intuition tells you this?”
Bernie chucked Brandon under the chin. “Exactly. I could be wrong. Who knows,” she mused. “Maybe the person who killed her used a piece of flexible, glass-coated glazier’s wire.”
Brandon shook his head. “Sometimes you scare me.”
“Then don’t piss me off.” And Bernie pulled her turtleneck up till it covered her chin. She definitely should have brought a scarf. “Did Ian say how many nights a week they cleaned here?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Five.”
“That’s a lot for an office, isn’t it?”
“Evidently, Kane’s a clean freak.”
“So they were here last night?”
Brandon nodded. “But they don’t clean the Haunted House area.”
“How come?”
“Kane doesn’t want them to. He said there was too much delicate equipment in there. Touch the wrong thing and kablamo. There goes one of the exhibits.”
“Who does the cleaning then?” asked Bernie.
Brandon shrugged. “I assume the volunteers do, but you’ll have to ask Kane.”
“And Inez was here cleaning the Foundation part?”
“That’s what Ian says.”
By now Bernie and Brandon were at the door. Brandon put his hand on the handle. “So, what are you going to say to Inez?” he asked.
“I’m going to ask her if she killed Amethyst.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Just like that.”
Brandon threw back his head and laughed. “And you expect her to say, ‘Yes, I did’?”
“No. I just want to see how she reacts.”
Brandon pulled the door open. “A waste of time if you ask me.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?”
“Yeah. Let’s go back to my place and talk about this first.”
“After,” Bernie said and walked inside.
Brandon sighed and followed.
The Foundation was not what Bernie had expected. She’d psyched herself up for a scary mansion, and she’d gotten a generic office instead. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she felt oddly disappointed.
The lights were on in the hallway, and Bernie could see that Kane had done some serious remodeling. Now the walls were white, instead of wallpapered in paisley, and wainscoted, and the floor was a sea of gray carpeting.
There were metal-framed pictures on the walls, mostly featuring trees and flowers and grass. About twenty feet in was a reception desk, and just after that was a modern black leather sofa and a coffee table with fanned-out magazines. In the background, Bernie could hear Aretha Franklin competing with the hum of a vacuum cleaner.
“Boy, this has sure changed,” Brandon observed. “I remember all this weird wallpaper and dark wood and crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling.”
“So it would appear,” Bernie said as she cautiously opened the nearest door on the right. A small plaque on the door read MS. LONG. “I guess Kane was telling the truth when he said the site they’re using for the Haunted House is the last place they have to remodel.”
Bernie peeked inside. The room was small and generic. It contained a desk; a monitor, keyboard, and mouse on the desk; a standard-issue office chair; a wall full of bookshelves, which appeared to contain reports; and stacks of reading material on the table by the door. The room was devoid of any personality. Looking at it, Bernie decided she could be in any office anywhere in the world. For all intents and purposes, the old Peabody School was gone except for where the Haunted House was. And soon that would be gone, too. It made her sad. She carefully closed the door behind her and started down the corridor.
“Let’s go find Inez,” she said.
Brandon hurried after her. “The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned,” he told her.
“So you’ve said,” Bernie retorted.
They walked down the corridor. When they got to the end, they followed the music and turned left. Aretha was louder now. So was the vacuum cleaner.
“How many people are on this cleaning crew?” Bernie asked.
“Ian said three,” Brandon replied.
They made another left. Bernie began to feel disorientated. The place was like a rabbit warren, all sharp, angled turns. One hallway led to another, and the white walls and gray carpet and overhead lights made everything look the same. Half of the rooms looked as if they were unused. By now the words to “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” were pulsing through Bernie’s head. She paused in front of the door where the music was coming from.
“Let’s do it,” Brandon said and pushed open the door.
They stepped into a paneled conference room. A vacuum cleaner was parked by the far wall. A large, gleaming wooden table sat in the center of the room. The air smelled of furniture polish. A man in coveralls was bent over the table, spraying its surface with Pledge and wiping it down.
Bernie went over and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and spun around. It took him a minute to focus his eyes. Whatever he was on, it had taken him someplace else.
“Sorry,” Bernie shouted. “We’re looking for Inez.”
The man blinked. He made an effort to look at Bernie. She smiled encouragingly.
“Is she around? We need to talk to her,” Bernie explained.
She’d expected that he’d ask why, but he didn’t. If anything, he seemed annoyed at being interrupted. He shrugged and pointed to the door on the far wall.
“Through there,” he told her. “She’s cleaning the bathrooms. At least that’s what she’s supposed to be doing. Whether she is or not, I can’t say.” He nodded toward Brandon. “Hey, pal. How’s it going?”
“It’s going, Josh,” Brandon said. “It’s going.”
“You can say that again,” Josh said and went back to waxing the table.
“How do you know him?” Bernie asked when they got outside.
“His brother was in our class.”
“He was?”
“Matt Keller.”
“That’s Matt Keller’s little brother?”
Brandon nodded. “Yup.”
Bernie shook her head. She remembered him as this blond little pain that was always following Matt around. Now he looked about fifty and was missing half of his teeth.
Brandon must have read her mind, because he said, “That’s what happens when you live on the streets. You want me to talk to him while you go have a chat with Inez and see if he can tell us what she was doing last night?”
Bernie nodded and went off to find Inez. She located her a little while later in the ladies’ room. Th
e door was propped open, held in place by a large garbage can. When Bernie walked in, she could see Inez leaning against one of the sinks, smoking a cigarette. Bernie did a double take. Inez must have gained at least fifty pounds since she’d last seen her. Inez’s face had that round, puffy look drinkers’ faces got. Her waist had vanished, replaced by a layer of fat that ballooned over her belt. Even her hands looked pudgy.
“What do you want?” she asked Bernie.
Suddenly, Bernie decided that Brandon was right. This wasn’t such a great idea.
“To talk to you, Inez.”
Inez took another drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out of her nostrils. Just like in some B movie, Bernie thought.
“You want to know why I haven’t been in your store?”
“Not exactly,” replied Bernie.
“I don’t have time to talk to you. I’ve got work to do.”
“So I see,” said Bernie, nodding at the cigarette.
“Well, I’m going to answer your question for you, Miss Girl Detective,” said Inez.
“Can you make that Ms. Girl Detective?”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” hissed Inez.
“Yes, I do. Now what’s the question you’re going to answer for me?”
“The one you were going to ask me about Amethyst. I didn’t kill her. The police already questioned me. And let me go. Go talk to Bob Small. He was there.”
“So were you.”
“No. I was here cleaning.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Shows you how much you know,” Inez sneered. “You can’t get from here to the Haunted House section of the mansion. They sealed it off when they remodeled. You have to go outside and around.”
“And what’s to prevent you from having done that?” asked Bernie.
“I was with Josh all the time I was here. We were cleaning the offices.”
“It takes two people to do that?”
“That’s the way Ian says to do it, so that’s what we do,” said Inez. She took another drag of her cigarette and flicked it in the toilet.
Bernie folded her arms over her chest and leaned up against one of the sinks. “Maybe you set up some sort of remote device.”
“And how would I have gotten Amethyst there?”
Bernie shrugged. “I don’t know. Wrote a note. Called her and set up a meeting. You’re smart.”
“I’m not smart enough,” Inez said.
“Why do you say that?”
Inez pointed to one of the toilets. “That’s what I let my life turn into.”
Bernie didn’t say anything, because what Inez said was true.
“I’m glad Amethyst is dead,” Inez continued. “She deserved everything she got. I only wish she had suffered more. She ruined my life. If it weren’t for her, I’d still have my husband and my house. Look at me.” Inez pointed at herself. “Look at the way I look now. Look what I’m doing. I shop at Wal-Mart, for God’s sake. But I didn’t kill the bitch. I wish I had, but I didn’t. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so merciful. Talk to Bob Small. Talk to Zachery Timberland.”
“Zachery Timberland?”
Inez laughed through her nose. It was not a nice laugh, Bernie thought.
“Yeah. Zachery Timberland. Ask him about his daughter Zoe. Ask him what she’s doing now.”
Bernie was about to ask Inez what Zoe was doing now when Brandon appeared at the bathroom door.
“She and Josh were together last night,” he said as he stepped inside the ladies’ room. He looked around. “I’ve always wanted to see what one of these looked like on the inside.”
“Well, now you know,” Bernie replied. She turned to Inez. “You could have both done it.”
Inez snickered. “If I were going to do something like that, I certainly wouldn’t choose a chucklehead like Josh for my partner.”
Brandon tugged at Bernie’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Listen to your boyfriend,” Inez said.
“I’ll go when I’m ready,” Bernie said, even though she knew Brandon was right. She’d gotten as much as she was going to get from Inez this go-around. Staying longer wasn’t going to help anything.
She was turning to go when Inez called out to her.
“I have a question for you,” she said.
“Yeah?” said Bernie.
“How the hell do you walk in those?” She pointed to Bernie’s stilettos.
“Very carefully,” Bernie said. “Very carefully, indeed. And I have a question for you.”
“What?” Inez snarled.
“Have you met Bessie Osgood?”
Bernie watched Inez’s mouth wobble. It was as if someone had taken a giant vacuum cleaner and sucked everything out of her.
“Get out of here,” Inez cried. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Obviously, I hit a nerve,” Bernie said to Brandon when they were outside.
“Obviously, you did.”
“I guess my dad is right,” Bernie said.
“How do you mean?” Brandon asked as he and Bernie retraced their steps.
“He said that Bessie Osgood is at the center of what happened, and I’m starting to think so, too.”
Chapter 9
Sean carefully seated himself in a chair in front of a long table and laid before him the bag with the View-Master that Felicity Huffer had given Bernie. His idea probably wouldn’t come to anything, but he wanted to check it out, anyway.
It would have been easier for him to use his wheelchair in here since getting up and down was a problem for him. It would have been more comfortable, too, but he hated it, so he’d brought Marvin along to help out instead. Which had its own set of problems.
Libby said he didn’t use the chair, because he was too vain, but that wasn’t it at all. It was that he saw using it as a sign of giving in, and for him, giving in meant giving up. He’d been that way all his life, and he couldn’t change now. Maybe that was because his mom had taught him not to take the easy way out. Ever.
The chair was a little too deep for him, but he settled back in it as best he could and looked around. The Longely Historical Society was housed in an old Victorian house that had belonged to one of the town’s founders. The town board had rescued it from the wrecking ball and had put on a new roof and painted the outside lilac, an act that Sean had never understood, and that had been the extent of the fixing up. The house itself was narrow and cluttered with pictures and objects from the town’s past.
Recently, Halloween decorations had been added to the mix. At this time of day, the Longely Historical Society was empty, but then, it usually was. Most people in this town were too busy worrying about whether or not they could afford a Beamer to think much about the past. In fact, he, Marvin, and the librarian, Jeanine Applegate, who was the real reason they were here, were the only people in the place.
“Sit down,” Sean hissed at Marvin, who was roaming around like a demented, fidgeting whooping crane. Why he couldn’t stay still was quite beyond Sean.
“I just wanted to look at the pictures on the wall,” Marvin said.
“You’re distracting me.”
“But you’re not doing anything,” Marvin pointed out.
“I’m thinking.”
Marvin turned and almost knocked a stack of brochures off one of the shelves.
“And you’re going to break something.”
Marvin looked hurt, and Sean felt remorseful for a second or two. But it was true; Marvin was a klutz. Plus he was overly sensitive. The kid had to toughen up.
“Did you know that jack-o’-lanterns come from Ireland and that people used to use turnips?” Marvin said.
Now this, Sean thought, is what my daughter would call a random comment. “Yes, Marvin, I know,” Sean said.
“Because you’re Irish?”
“Because Bernie told me.”
“That would mean the Irish don’t eat roasted pumpkin seeds. That’s one of my favorite parts about Hallo
ween.”
Sean took a deep breath and let it out. “Marvin.”
“Turnips don’t have seeds.”
“Yes. I know.” And with that, Sean reached out and grabbed the newspaper that was sitting there, held it up to his face, and pretended to read the front page. He’d never had that much patience, but now that he was getting older, he had none at all.
God, Marvin talked a lot. There was no disputing that. His driving wasn’t great, either, but Libby loved him, and basically, he was a good kid, even if he did make Sean crazy. Back in the Ice Age, when he’d been chief of police, he’d learned from the man he’d served under that you had to work with what you had and bring your men up to a higher level of functioning. That was what being a leader meant.
Sean thought about that for a moment, and then he went back to thinking about what he hoped to accomplish here. Besides talking to Jeanine, who was Amethyst’s second or third cousin, he couldn’t remember which, he wanted to look at the old pictures of the Peabody School and read any material they had pertaining to the place. He was also hoping that the Longely Historical Society had some materials on Bessie Osgood, although he kind of doubted it.
He threw Jeanine his most charming smile as she came toward him, and she smiled back. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine two more different people than Amethyst and Jeanine. Jeanine was sweet and low-keyed, while Amethyst had been…What was that word his mother had always used about women she didn’t like? He had it…Amethyst had been a mantrap. Nothing about her had been real.
“Good to see you, Jeanine,” Sean said when she got close enough.
Rather than shake Sean’s hand, she nodded, because her hands were full of books and newspaper clippings. Sean noted she was wearing a pleated skirt, a blouse with a rounded collar, and a green cardigan sweater. A large pin of a witch on a broomstick was attached to her collar. He approved of her clothes; they were sensible and pleasant. And they didn’t call attention to themselves the way some of the things that his youngest daughter wore did.
Jeanine smiled again. “Good to see you, too, Sean. I’m glad to see you’re up and about.”
Sean spread his hands out. Since they were no longer shaking, he could do that now. “I’m trying.”
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