“By the way, why is the music camp called a Fantasy Jazz Camp?” Elizabeth asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Phil's been talking about it all week. Something about players and singers of all skill levels and experience are welcome. Tapes or auditions aren't required so anyone can participate.”
“Interesting,” Elizabeth said without a bit of interest in her voice. “We should leave early in the morning on Saturday. I have an overnight wilderness team building program for the library to go to around noon. You'll need to stay on after that by yourselves.”
“Elizabeth, when do you work at the college next?” I asked.
“Monday.”
“Is there some way you could get more details about the book Sherman was working on?”
“Sure. I know most of the professors in Sherman's department, some quite well. I used to date a few.”
Deirdre looked at me and rolled her eyes.
Elizabeth smiled, looking between the two of us. “I'll see what I can uncover about Sherman's research and what he may have discovered.”
When we were getting up to leave the patisserie, I noticed a police officer, who must have been on break with Bill Murphy, limping down the hall on his way to the restroom. All of a sudden, I was seeing limpers everywhere.
“Do either of you know who that cop is?” I motioned with my head towards the police officer. “He's limping.”
Deirdre shook her head and looked over at Elizabeth.
“I don't either,” Elizabeth said. “I'll look into it.”
Outside, on the way to her car, Elizabeth said, “As long as we're talking about dates, I have a hot date tonight.”
Deirdre grimaced. “You were the only one talking about dates.”
I fluttered my eyelashes. “Is it with Dave, our favorite photographer?” I was glad not to be at Marissa’s worrying if someone could overhear us. Besides, the conversation now was turning personal, so it didn’t matter.
“No, I haven't seen him since we went out last week to the comedy club. It was great. He wrote some of the material they used that night. The guy's talented. You should read the screenplay he's writing. It's a riot. No, I'm going out with Lorenzo.”
“Where are you going?” Deirdre asked.
“First, we're going to start with drinks at his place. Maybe he’ll play the piano for me. Some Mozart, perhaps. He’s a great pianist. Then, we have tickets in St. Paul to a performance of The Magic Flute at Concert Hall.”
“Phil loves Mozart.”
“Sound wonderful,” Deirdre said. “You sure go out with talented men.” She winked. “Kay, do you have anything going on tonight?”
“Sure, lots. First I'm going to be scrubbing the bathroom tiles. Then there's this big knot I have to get out of a ball of twine. If I have time—”
“You'll whiten your teeth.” Deirdre finished.
“Right,” I said. We all started laughing. “Elizabeth, what about Anthony? I haven't heard you talk about him lately.”
“He’s history.”
As we got in the car, I sat in the passenger’s seat with Deirdre in back. It was good to keep those two separated. “Do you think we should let Marissa know what's going on?” Deirdre asked.
“She would be a big help if she overhears anything in the patisserie. Lots of people in town come here every day,” I said. “But she'd be another person we’d be putting in jeopardy. And how do you know she isn't one of the six? Think about it. We have to vet Marissa before bringing her in.”
“Marissa? Come on, Kay,” Elizabeth said.
Before she had a chance to turn on the engine, I said to Elizabeth, “Why don’t you go on, get ready for your date. Deirdre and I can walk back. I’d like to go through the alley and look at the back of the stores. Angie and the girls said on the night of the Halloween Ball, they heard a racket before the suspicious persons walking down the alley entered a different building. Maybe we'll see some evidence of broken locks or windows, anything.
“Yeah, I’ll go get ready. Beautiful doesn't just happen by accident.”
Chapter Eight
Thursday, November 3
I walked up the front steps to Al's house, rang his doorbell, and glanced through the window in his door. My heart raced. What was the surprise he had for me? I stepped back a few paces as the door opened.
“Good morning, Kay,” Al said in a cheerful voice. “I'm glad you called last night to let me know you'd be coming over. Come in.”
Al gestured for me to come in with a wave of his hand, and I stepped into his living room. The gentle sound of piano music wafted around the room like a calming breeze. My eyes looked in the direction of the music. Margaret sat at the piano playing, smiling at me. “Hello, Kay.”
My eyes went wide. What was Margaret doing here?
Al shut the front door. “Margaret, I didn't know you would be here,” I said.
Voices carried from the kitchen. Bill Murphy ambled into the living room with his watery eyes fixed on me. Seeing him, I knew something was wrong. A trap? I headed straight for the front door. The music stopped. Margaret came up to me and said, “I'll get your jacket.”
I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip. “I'm not staying long.”
She reached up and grasped my jacket, pulling me away from the door. I reflexively shrugged out of it. Murphy retrieved my coat and purse from Margaret and left the room. Margaret went and sat down on the sofa.
“What's this all about?” I asked, feeling vulnerable with my protective layer gone.
“So,” said Al, smiling on the sofa next to Margaret, “did you think you could get away from us?”
“I don't think I know what you mean,” I said, trying to act relaxed. It was too late to play it cool, but all I could do was try.
“Saturday night in the storeroom. Did you think we wouldn't know it was you?”
“Al, I have no idea what you are talking about,” I said, my voice going up an octave.
“I could smell your perfume in the store, and then, when I danced with you at the Ball, the perfume confirmed it for me. You were there.”
“I wasn't wearing any perfume—”
“Kay, you saw the hooded robe up in my attic,” Margaret said. “You had to nose around. Did you think I wouldn't notice that you had neatly folded it like you did all the other costumes in the larger trunk?”
I glanced at the front door. Through its windows I saw Bill Murphy getting into my car. A few moments later, he was driving down the street. I ran to the front door and started to open it. Al yanked me back and slammed the door shut. Others came in from the kitchen but no one I recognized.
“Have a seat, Kay. I made you a nice cup of tea,” Margaret said. “I know how much you like tea.”
“I don't want any tea.”
Two men in white robes grabbed hold of my arms and dragged me over to the sofa. The light from the piano windows above streamed into my eyes, blinding me as I struggled against them. They pressed me into the sofa and held me there.
Margaret walked over and put the cup to my lips. “Leave me alone!” My pleas became a scream. “I can't believe you'd be a part of this, Margaret! Why?”
I shook my head back and forth, trying to resist. One of the cloaked men reached up and held my face still with his wet, beefy hand on my jaw. Warm bitter tea trickled down my throat. I started coughing. “No...no,” I sputtered. “No more...no more!” Hot tears ran down my cheeks. I managed to get off the sofa and fell to my knees, drowning in tea and fear. I heard the sounds of my own gasping.
A hand on my shoulder, smaller this time, but still firm, shook me with some urgency. “Kay! Kay!” I recognized the voice. What was Phil doing here? He was part of this whole thing? Is this why he was so late coming to the Ball? He kept shaking my shoulders.
I woke up suddenly and sat up in bed.
“You're having a bad dream,” Phil said.
I caught my breath as my heart began its slow descent to normal. My nightgown was drenched
in sweat. I looked at the alarm clock. Close to midnight. I got a glass of water, and changed my nightgown. I looked in the mirror and saw the same pale face, reminiscent of the one I saw in the mirror the night of the Ball. I went back to bed. Phil was already snoring. I laid with my eyes wide open, afraid to fall back asleep. Afraid the nightmare would continue.
* * * *
It finally started growing light. I got out of bed and drank two cups of black coffee. I needed something stronger than tea this morning. I sat thinking about last night's horrifying dream. I thought about Al's upcoming surprise. What if he, in fact, knew it was me that crashed their meeting in the old store? Should I go over there and get myself stuck in a dangerous situation? It was something to worry about later.
I put on a conservative black, knee length dress and drove over to Deirdre's house. The day was cold and dreary, just like my disposition. Large dark clouds rolled across the sky, a fitting mood for the day. We picked up Elizabeth and continued on to Sherman's funeral at Grace Episcopal.
Just when we opened the door to enter the church, the heavens opened, and gray curtains of rain came down. I could see people running from their cars toward the door.
The church was about a quarter full. “Lots of faculty from the college are here,” Elizabeth whispered to me when we sat down.
“I suppose there would be,” I whispered back. “Elizabeth, before the service begins I wanted to tell you, when Deirdre and I looked over the buildings in the alley after we were at Marissa's, we didn't see anything too unusual, no glass broken or anything like that. The only thing we did notice was at the patisserie. It looked like the back door had a new lock. You could see an outline in the paint on the door where the old lock had been installed.”
“We should ask Marissa about that,” Elizabeth said.
“I plan to.”
“Poor Mary Ann.” Deirdre kept her voice low. “What a lost soul. It looks like she's being physically held up by her parents.”
“Those are Mary Ann's sisters with her and her parents,” Elizabeth said.
Mary Ann did look like she was lost. Even during this solemn occasion, I couldn't help but run through the facts in my mind. Mary Ann seemed pretty cool when answering my questions about Sherman's death a couple of days ago. Sure, she cried a little, but in her shoes I probably wouldn't have been able to even speak. Perhaps Margaret wasn't the only actress in town. Mary Ann said she was at her parents' house, but how did I know for sure? I supposed it would be easy enough to find out. In essence, I had told her I suspected foul play in Sherman's death. If she turned out to be one of the hooded six, she might conclude I was the intruder in the vacant store. Could Mary Ann have been involved with this? I would have to be more careful about who I brought into my confidence, going forward.
Looking around, I recognized some of the neighbors who lived down the street. I also saw Dr. Anders and others from the free clinic. He saw me looking at him and smiled. I smiled back. My eyes continued to scan the crowd. I saw Bill Murphy and a few police officers having a laugh about something. It seemed strange, two such different people in the same place, Dr. Anders, who volunteered every week helping the poor in the free clinic, and then Bill Murphy.
I shook my head. “Take a look at Bill Murphy over there snickering,” I said, nodding in Murphy's direction.
Deirdre's eyes narrowed. “What a despicable human being. How can he even show his face here?”
“Ironic, isn't it?” I said. “There's the police officer who was limping in the patisserie in the row behind him. Elizabeth, did you find out anything about him?”
“Haven't had time to talk to him yet. Maybe after church. Bill Murphy, I never noticed him before all of this happened. Now he's talking to our Ted Michaels. I’ll be glad when he gets his just desserts.”
“Look around. Perhaps the other killers are here also.” Deirdre's eyes darted around for a few moments.
“In most mystery books, they usually do show up at the funerals,” Elizabeth said.
* * * *
It was a touching service. The rain had eased off by the time the church service was over.
“Surprising Sherman is getting buried in Sudbury Falls after living here for only two years. I suppose his wife just wanted to have it all done with,” I said on the way home. “At the cemetery, I saw Margaret MacAlister crying. I tried to avoid eye contact with her.” My mind wandered to seeing Margaret in my dream last night. I wondered if I would ever feel the same toward her again.
“Did either of you see Al?” Deirdre asked. “I expected to see him there, too, with Bill Murphy and the other murderers, whoever they are.”
I drifted back to reality. “I looked for Al and didn't see him either,” I said.
I dropped Elizabeth off in front of her house, pulled into my driveway, and parked my car. Deirdre and I waited outside Elizabeth's home while she collected some breads she had baked for Mary Ann. Since it had stopped raining, we walked the few blocks to the funeral luncheon at her house. Ted saw us coming, and held the front door open for us.
“Such a sad day,” Ted said as we went in. The house was wall-to-wall people. Conversations echoed throughout the house. Mary Ann's mother and sisters were putting the food out on the dining room table. I looked at Mary Ann. Her eyes were bloodshot. From the way she moved about the house, it was clear she was just going through the motions.
Deirdre and I talked to Ted a while. He seemed a little out of sorts, not his usual jolly self. Elizabeth visited with some colleagues from the college, and afterward, we all helped ourselves to the food and sat down at a table.
“It looks like a lot of the people from church also came to the luncheon. Sherman and Mary Ann made a lot of friends in the couple of years they were here,” I said.
“You make lots of friends working at the college. Everyone becomes like family,” Elizabeth said. “And Mary Ann did go to college here.”
“Interesting. Do you know what she majored in?”
“Theatre.”
“This Tandoori chicken's delicious. Gupta's did the catering.” Deirdre said. “I saw Dinesh in the kitchen.”
“I'm going to go and say hello to him,” I said, getting up. “He's going with Phil and Mike to the jazz camp tomorrow.”
I walked into the kitchen and found only Mary Ann’s mother there, putting more food on a platter.
“Hello, Mrs. Castellano. I'm looking for my friend, Dinesh Gupta. I heard he was in the kitchen.”
“You just missed him. He finished delivering the food and had to be off.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Trying to stay the course for Mary Ann.”
“The eulogy Sherman’s brother gave was moving. You could tell he wasn’t just talking about his brother but his best friend.”
“Sherman was a likable person. It’s a shame you didn’t get to know him. It won’t be easy for Mary Ann to cope. They were so much in love after all these years of marriage.”
“Mary Ann was lucky to be with you when she heard the bad news about Sherman.”
“Excuse me?”
I paused for a few moments. “Mary Ann...she was at your home, wasn't she?”
“Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said. She came for the weekend.”
“On Friday.”
“Just in time for dinner Friday evening. She must have arrived around six o'clock.”
I thought back to Tuesday when Mary Ann mentioned she called Sherman early Friday afternoon to let him know she arrived at her parents. In fact, twice she mentioned the time of day to me. The numbers didn't match up. Either way, Mary Ann was in Milwaukee when I discovered Sherman and the cloaked conspirators on Saturday. But how could she account for the missing hours on Friday?
“Mom, do we have any more lamb?” Mary Ann’s youngest sister asked, coming into the kitchen.
I walked down the hall, looking for the bathroom, passing a family room on the right and Sherman's office on the left. Looking into hi
s office, I saw a tall, lanky, middle aged man with thinning hair leaning on Sherman’s desk looking at a book. The back wall of Sherman’s office was all books. The man didn’t look up as I stopped in the doorway. I noticed that the bottom desk drawer was open a couple of inches. I continued down the hall. Who was this man and why was he in Sherman's office? How long had he been in there? Had he heard me coming down the hallway? Upon returning to the living room, I glanced again into the office. The room was empty, the bottom desk drawer now closed. The man had been going through Sherman's desk drawers.
When I returned to the living room, I saw the mystery man talking to Mary Ann. I would have her introduce us. I didn't make it far before Elizabeth and Deirdre caught up to me.
“Kay, did you talk to Dinesh?” Deirdre asked.
I didn't take my eyes off of the man talking to Mary Ann. “No, he'd left. I talked a short while to Mary Ann’s mother. Do either of you know who that man talking to Mary Ann is?
“Sure.” Elizabeth said after a quick glance. “Professor Richard Laska. He worked with Sherman in the Ag Department. Richard's a real sweet guy.”
“Who isn't a sweet guy, Elizabeth?” Deirdre said.
“Deirdre, I can't help it if I like people,” Elizabeth said.
I looked at Deirdre and then to Elizabeth. “Do you know if he had anything to do with what Sherman was working on?”
“I don't know.”
I shot another glance in Laska's direction. “I just saw him in Sherman's office looking around.”
“What do you mean, looking around?” Elizabeth asked.
I told Elizabeth and Deirdre what I saw. “I would think a closed drawer in a dead man's desk would be considered private by anyone.”
“I think you might be getting suspicious of everyone,” Elizabeth opined.
“That’s how it should be,” I said.
“Mary Ann could have given him permission. They were colleagues after all,” Elizabeth said.
People started to leave. Mary Ann stood by the door, saying her goodbyes. I walked over to her. “I was wondering if you would like to come over tomorrow for lunch?”
The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) Page 9