A ghost appeared to you. So a ghost appeared to you. Especially this time of the year. Cultures all over the world recognized that this was the time of the year when the membrane that separated the living from the dead was at its thinnest. That was just the way it was. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
In fact, Bernie was slightly miffed that Bessie Osgood hadn’t appeared to her. Why pick someone who so obviously didn’t want to have anything to do with you? The only reason she could come up with was that Libby had been in the room by herself the two times it had happened and Bernie had always been here with Libby.
For the next couple of minutes, the two sisters worked in silence. Finally, Libby looked up at the clock.
“Five minutes till we open,” she said.
Bernie grinned. She recognized a peace offer when she saw one. “No one ever gets here before six-thirty or seven,” she countered, extending her own olive branch.
Libby nodded. What Bernie said was true. Most people came after dinner. Actually, their busiest time was between seven-thirty and nine. Then they had lines out the door. But before that, things were pretty dead. Dead was a bad word. Things were quiet.
“I made extra pumpkin walnut muffins, so we shouldn’t run out this time,” Libby told Bernie as she began slicing up the pies.
“Good,” Bernie replied. “Sorry I was a little late, but I found some interesting things at Amethyst’s place.”
Libby stopped slicing for a moment. “What were you doing at Amethyst’s place?” she asked. As far as she knew, that wasn’t in the game plan.
Bernie told her sister about her encounter with Inez at R.J.’s.
“You’re kidding me,” Libby said when Bernie was done.
Bernie shook her head. “Nope. I’m not.”
Libby went back to slicing. “Talk about rubbing salt in the wound, as Mom used to say. Boy, if that isn’t a motive for killing someone, I don’t know what is.”
“I wonder if Inez is telling the truth.”
Libby put the apple-cranberry pie aside and began on the apple crumb, which was difficult to cut neatly. “You mean about the whole thing being Amethyst’s idea?”
“Yeah. Maybe the whole thing was Inez’s idea. Maybe she wanted to work for Amethyst so she could get even.”
Libby bisected the pie and then cut the halves into quarters. “Could be,” she said thoughtfully.
“There’s one way to find out,” Bernie said, and she reached for her cell phone and dialed.
Libby continued cutting pies while her sister talked to Ian.
“Well, that was interesting,” Bernie said when she hung up. “Evidently, Ian didn’t even know that Inez was working for Amethyst. She was doing it off the books.”
Libby put the knife down, reached over, took a half-moon cookie off the table, and began to eat it. “So we don’t know who suggested what.”
“And we probably won’t know, either. But we do know that Inez was telling the truth about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That Amethyst was going away,” said Bernie. “All of her clothes are gone. There’s no product in the bathroom, and she was definitely a Spackle and spray kind of gal.”
Libby poured herself a glass of cider to go with the cookie. By their nature, half-moon cookies, even hers, were somewhat dry. She’d never been able to find a recipe that kept their half-moon essence and was moist. It was one of those mysteries that still needed to be solved.
“I wonder where she went.”
“Not that far, obviously.”
“Or she went and came back,” Libby said.
“Interesting.” Bernie poured herself a cup of cider and took a sip. “This is really good,” she commented. “Cotter should sell this in the stores.”
“He can’t, because it’s unpasteurized. State law.”
“But we can use it, right?” Bernie asked.
“Correct.” Libby finished slicing the apple crumb pie and went to put the knife away in its case. “Getting married? Libby asked as she moved her sister’s jacket and bag off the carton the knife belonged in.
Bernie’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”
Libby lifted up the Modern Bride magazine that had been buried under Bernie’s jacket.
“Oh that.” Bernie laughed. “I got that from Amethyst’s house, along with a newspaper.”
Libby looked at the date. It was current. “You know,” she said. “What if Amethyst was planning to get married?”
“That’s a pretty big jump.”
“I agree, but bear with me. You said that Inez overheard Amethyst telling someone it was really going to happen, and she was pretty excited….”
Bernie nodded.
“And then she packed up everything and left. What if what she was excited about was getting married?”
“She could have been moving in with someone,” replied Bernie.
“Then why Modern Bride?”
“Wishful thinking? A friend getting married?”
“Amethyst didn’t have friends, and she never struck me as the kind of woman who engaged in wishful thinking.”
Bernie had to admit that was true. “But she came back.”
“Maybe things didn’t work out,” said Libby.
“That’s an understatement if ever I heard one.”
Libby nibbled on her cuticle for a moment. “Here’s another idea. Maybe she went to speak to Ed Banks to see if she could hold the wedding at Lexus Gardens. It would be a great spot.”
“And she did know him through the Foundation.”
“Do we know that for a fact?” Libby asked.
“No. But it seems that they would have met at a dinner party or something like that.”
“Can we find out?”
“We can ask Banks’s personal assistant when he hits land,” replied Bernie.
Libby brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know. You’re saying the person who killed Amethyst killed Ed Banks to keep him from talking? That’s a definite stretch.”
“It’s a link.”
“A very weak link,” said Libby.
“It’s possible, but not probable,” both sisters said together. They laughed.
“Good old dad,” Bernie said. She could hear him saying it now.
Libby and Bernie looked at each other.
“This is all supposition, you know,” Bernie said.
“But it makes as much sense as anything else,” Libby countered. “It makes more sense than having a ghost kill her.”
“Bessie lied about that, remember? She just wanted to take credit for it.”
Libby took the palm of her free hand and smacked herself on the forehead. “Excuse me. How could I forget?”
“Yeah. Curtis and Konrad are going to come up with the real killer’s name now any day.” Bernie reached over and took a pumpkin bar, broke it in half, and began to nibble on it. “Maybe Amethyst’s husband killed her. You know, she married him under false pretenses, and he realized what he’d gotten himself into.”
“An annulment would have been easier.”
“But not nearly as satisfying,” Bernie pointed out.
Libby laughed. “This is true.” She finished her half-moon cookie and wiped the crumbs off her hands. “Do you think we should tell Dad what we’re thinking?”
Bernie could just hear her father now. And you think this based on what? A copy of Modern Bride and something a hostile and unreliable witness, a witness who is a suspect in the homicide case, told you? “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. At least not yet.”
Libby tugged at the top of her dress again. “We could sort of float it by him.”
“It would help if we had positive proof that Amethyst got married.”
“I could go down to the town hall and check it out,” said Libby.
“Go ahead. But the odds are that if she got married, she didn’t get married here.”
“True,” Libby agreed. “She was fairly secretive.”
“Fairly? Fairly?” Bernie opened her eyes so wide, she looked like a Kewpie doll. “She lived in Stanton, for heaven’s sake. She didn’t want anyone in Longely to know her business.”
Libby returned to the subject of Ed Banks. “That’s why Lexus Gardens would fit in so nicely.”
“So go check.”
“I intend to,” Libby admitted. “Although if she did get married, knowing Amethyst, she probably did it somewhere like Palm Springs or Miami Beach….”
“Or Paris or Rome.”
“Or Morocco,” Libby added while she tugged at the top of her dress.
“Here. Let me fix that for you.” And Bernie went over and pulled the back of Libby’s dress up. “Better?” she asked.
Libby looked at her boobs. They were back where they should be. “Much better. Thank you.”
Bernie studied her sister while she tapped her fingers against her chin.
“Are you still thinking about Amethyst?” Libby asked.
“No. I’m thinking that I’m sorry I made you wear this.”
“You didn’t make me. I could have said no. And, anyway, I think you’re right. I think Marvin is going to like this.”
“It might even make him jealous,” Bernie said. “Which would be a good thing.” When Libby didn’t say anything, Bernie said, “Trust me on this. I’m the expert.”
Libby laughed.
Bernie stuck out her hand. “Friends,” she said.
“Friends to the end,” Libby answered. They’d been saying that to each other for as long as Libby could remember.
“So,” Bernie said. “Now that we’re pals again, are you going to tell me what happened before, when you were yelling?”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“Okay. Speaking loudly.”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” Libby said.
“No, I don’t. It’s the secret to my success.”
“Yes, it is,” Libby agreed.
And Libby gave her a blow-by-blow of what had occurred, which, if she was being honest with herself, she knew she was going to do all along, because eventually, she always told her sister everything.
Chapter 24
Libby looked at the clock on the wall. It was now a little past nine. Half an hour and she and Bernie could pack up and leave. Thank heavens. The traffic had been nonstop. Once the people had started coming in, they had never slowed down. Usually, people came in clumps, so you had a chance to take a break, but she hadn’t even had time to run to the bathrooom.
In addition, her back was killing her from standing, and her wrists hurt from making all those waffles. She hoped she wasn’t developing carpal tunnel syndrome. That would be all she’d need. Maybe she should go to the store and get those braces. See if those helped.
At least her feet weren’t killing her. She didn’t know how Bernie managed in her three-inch stilettos. Libby didn’t know what she’d do if she couldn’t wear her sneakers. If she had to wear Bernie’s shoes, she’d be going barefoot and the hell with the health codes. She wanted to go home, get out of her dress, take a bath, and go to bed, but instead, she and Bernie were meeting Brandon and Marvin at R.J.’s.
When she’d protested, Bernie had said to her, “First of all, Marvin hasn’t seen your dress, and second of all, it’s the least you can do to thank him for driving Dad around all afternoon.”
Bernie was right. Marvin was incredibly sweet, and she shouldn’t take him for granted, which, she was the first to admit, she had a tendency to do. Still, she hoped it would be an early night.
She surveyed what was left on the table. The one bright note was that they didn’t have much to take back to the shop. All the cider was gone, as were the pies and the fruit breads, except for the last piece of banana bread, which she was going to eat right now. They could store what was left of the apple compote in the fridge in the kitchen adjoining the dining room, though she’d have to make more tomorrow morning. The leftover waffle batter had got tossed, as had the coffee. Libby was thinking that she wished she could find a use for the leftover batter—it pained her to throw anything out—when she realized that Bernie was talking to her.
“Maybe there’s something about you that’s attracting Bessie Osgood,” Bernie was saying.
“There’s nothing about me that’s doing that,” Libby said firmly and dove into her bag for a piece of chocolate. She knew what Bernie was going to say, and she didn’t want to go there.
Just the thought of what had happened was enough to give her the chills.
“You want a piece of chocolate?” Libby asked her sister. “I’ve got French made, estate harvested, unblended, eighty percent dark, or good old Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Kisses.”
“I’ll take the Kisses,” Bernie told her.
“Me too,” Libby said.
You could say all you wanted about the joys of dark chocolate, Libby thought. You could go on and on about the notes of cinnamon and cranberry present in it, you could feel virtuous because dark chocolate was now considered good for you, but in times of stress, nothing worked like Hershey’s Kisses. Somehow when they dissolved on your tongue, they took your worries with them. For a little while. But in this case, a little while was good enough.
Definitely good enough, Libby thought as she hoisted her bag off the floor and began rummaging through it, although what she really needed was a milk-chocolate IV right now.
“What in heaven’s name do you have in there?” Bernie asked her.
“Stuff. You know.” Libby looked at Bernie’s sleek clutch. “Or maybe you don’t.” And she opened her bag as wide as she could and peered in. “Where is that bag of Kisses?” she muttered. “I know I have it somewhere.”
“You have a whole bag?” Bernie asked.
“Well,” Libby said defensively, “you never know when a chocolate emergency will arise.”
“Like the Hudson River will overflow, and we’ll be stranded here for weeks.”
“Exactly,” Libby said. “Or we get caught in a blizzard.” She started removing things. Out came a pocket knife, a wallet, sunglasses, a bottle of aspirin, a bottle of vitamin B complex, a screwdriver. “So that’s where it was,” Libby said as she put the screwdriver down on the table. “I spent twenty minutes looking for this yesterday.” Her eyes widened. A moment later she drew out a brown paper bag. “I know I didn’t put this in here.” And then she remembered. “Amber.”
“Amber what?”
“Amber said she had a surprise for me.” Libby felt instantly guilty. Amber was probably waiting for her to call.
“A surprise from Amber is not necessarily a good thing,” Bernie observed.
“Don’t make me more nervous than I already am,” Libby told her. “It’s been a bad enough day already.”
Bernie snorted. “Such a delicate flower.”
“I’m serious. What with everything that’s going on, I’m a nervous wreck. I think I need an antianxiety drug.”
“No. What you need is to get laid.”
“Bernie!” Libby wailed.
“What’s wrong with what I said?”
“That’s personal.”
“No, it’s not. It’s true. It’s true for everyone. You mean, it’s not? You mean, you don’t feel more relaxed afterwards?”
When Libby didn’t answer, Bernie decided to change the subject. This was another topic Libby didn’t like to talk about, and they’d had enough arguments for one day.
“What’s in there?” Bernie asked, motioning to the brown paper bag with her chin.
“Let’s see,” Libby said. She gingerly opened the bag and peered inside.
“Well?” Bernie demanded.
“It’s the puzzle box Felicity gave you.” And Libby lifted it out.
“Why did Amber give it to you?”
Libby shook her head. “Don’t know. Dad left it downstairs on the kitchen counter. Maybe Amber wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost.”
“Why should she care?” Bernie asked.
Libby shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m going to call her,” Bernie said, reaching for her cell phone. But her call went straight to voice mail. Amber must have turned off her phone, Bernie decided. So, she left a message to call her and hung up. “She’s probably with that yo-yo she’s seeing.”
“Her taste in men isn’t very good, is it?” Libby noted as she spotted a piece of paper in the bottom of the bag. Probably a sales receipt, she thought as she took it out.
“No, it’s not,” Bernie agreed as her sister unfolded the paper.
“It’s a note,” Libby said. She read it quickly. “It’s instructions for opening up the puzzle box. Amber must have figured it out.”
“Impressive,” Bernie said. She certainly hadn’t been able to, and neither had her dad or Clyde.
Libby took the puzzle box and looked at it. It was a little bigger than the palm of her hand. The top was made of three pieces of dark wood; the bottom, of two. The pieces of wood fit together so neatly that you had to look carefully to see where they were joined. Libby smoothed the paper with the edge of her hand and read the instructions.
“Press on the far left-hand piece once.” She did. “Then tap lightly on the far right piece.” She did that, too. “Then tap the bottom far right piece of wood, and the box should open.” Libby looked up at Bernie. “Here goes.” She rapped once, and the top flew open.
Libby and Bernie peered in. Inside the box was a piece of paper folded into a tiny square. Bernie lifted it out and began unfolding it.
“What is it?” Libby asked as Bernie finished opening it.
Bernie flattened the paper out with the side of her hand. The writing was so fine, she was having trouble reading it. She brought the paper closer. “It’s a map,” she said.
“A map of what?”
“Maybe the old Peabody School. I’m not really sure.”
A Catered Halloween Page 19