Murder, Malice and Mischief

by Quinn, Lucy

  She sounded a little bitter, but anyone on the verge of divorce probably would.

  And everyone else had been saying that Ruddy didn’t pay his bills, too.

  Linda placed her hands on her knees and pushed herself to her feet. “So, who do I have to tell that we’re going to be resigning our membership, I guess, at the end of the month?”

  I started typing her name into the next line on the spreadsheet. “I can do that for you right now. You don’t need to go anywhere else.”

  “Thanks, Beatrice. I appreciate it. I’ll be around a little bit over the next week or so. I’ve got to improve my golf game before I get to California. Year-round golf, you know?”

  “Good luck, Linda. I’m so sorry about everything that happened.”

  Linda’s glance felt like a knife pointed in my direction. “How did you happen to find him?”

  “I went looking for him to cut a check to Jacob Hibbert for a shipment of liquor for the bar. It seems that he’d been delaying payment to the club’s vendors, and Jacob threatened to cut us off if we didn’t pay him.”

  Linda closed her eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. “Yeah, I can see him doing that.”

  Linda walked out of my office, and I heard her footsteps on the back stairs as Trudi popped around the corner of my doorframe.

  Trudi’s blue eyes were wide as she whispered, “Did you hear that?”

  I finished typing the Aganis’ names and membership number into the spreadsheet so that Linda wouldn’t be billed for club dues for next month. “Hear what? That she was divorcing him? I can’t say I’m surprised. If he was half as awful to her as he was to everybody else, the only surprise is that she stayed with him this long.”

  “No, I meant that she didn’t have an alibi for when Ruddy was murdered, and she knew where he was going to be.”

  I looked at Trudi over the top of my reading glasses. “Linda hardly seems the type to murder someone.”

  “You know as much as I do that anyone can snap. Anyone can get fed up, have enough of someone else’s baloney, and just snap.”

  Trudi wasn’t wrong. There were times when I yelled at my Henry and he yelled back at me, even though I would have never dreamed of doing something violent.

  Maybe other people went a few steps farther.

  That wasn’t impossible to believe.

  Trudi said, “And Linda is a club member. She could’ve taken one of our steak knives to kill him any time when they had supper at the club.”

  “Whoever killed him probably took a steak knife from dinner that night. Linda didn’t come to the dinner or the glow-ball tournament. Indeed, I kind of noticed that Ruddy arrived without her and hoped he wouldn’t want his money back for her ticket. If it was Linda, and I’m not saying it was, she would’ve had to have planned it so far in advance that she stole a steak knife from the club at some previous date.”

  Trudi flopped herself in the chair on the other side of my desk and stretched her short legs as far as she was able to. “Well, when was the last time they had dinner at the club? We can check their monthly bill and see when that was.”

  “They didn’t eat dinner at the club that much. I’ll bet Ruddy thought it was too expensive, even though it is cheaper than a lot of the restaurants around here.” I clicked around on my computer and pulled up the Aganis’ tab from the last month. “The only suppers on here are single meals after the men have their league, so that was probably Ruddy but not Linda. She hasn’t eaten here this month, at all.”

  Trudi scowled. “That doesn’t mean that she didn’t walk into the club, where no one would have been surprised to see her at a tournament that she had bought a ticket to, and snag a steak knife earlier that night.”

  Trudi was not going to let go of this until I agreed that it was possible. “I suppose it could have happened that way.”

  “You should have let me dust that knife for fingerprints when we found it.”

  “We would’ve had a hard time explaining to the police why there was baby powder on the murder weapon.”

  Trudi shrugged. “We could have figured something out to tell them.”

  “Yeah, I talked to Constable Sherwood a little while ago, and he said they probably weren’t going to do much of anything until they got the forensic analysis back from the state laboratory, and that could take three months or longer.”

  “That’s awful. Oliver Shwetz will be walking around the club the whole time, leering at everybody and making them feel uncomfortable.”

  “Unfortunately, Constable Sherwood doesn’t think he’s the only suspect. I managed to sort of implicate myself when I was talking to him on the range earlier today.”

  Trudi glanced up at me and grabbed the arm of her chair. “Don’t tell me anything, but if we need to figure out an alibi for you, I should know that I have to do that.”

  “Trudi, I didn’t kill Ruddy!”

  “I’m not saying you did, but if there’s something that we need to explain, I should know it. You know I’ve got your back.”

  I must admit that it is comforting to have a friend who says that she will cover for you, even though she thinks you may have committed murder. “I didn’t kill him, but I kind of don’t have an alibi for part of the time when he might have been murdered.”

  Trudi pulled her phone out of her pocket and stuck it under her thigh, sitting on it. “Close your computer and put it away. Put your phone someplace where it can’t listen to us.”

  Her paranoia was so sweet, if a bit misplaced.

  “Trudi, I swear on a stack of Bibles, I did not kill Ruddy. I did not hurt Ruddy. I did not go out onto the golf course that night before we walked out there together. I was running around the clubhouse, organizing the event.”

  Trudi squinted at me, laid her phone on my desk, and then announced, “All right! I believe you! I believe that you were in the clubhouse the entire time, and you did not leave the clubhouse before the four of us went out and found Ruddy together! You were never alone at any point, and thus you have an alibi for the entire night of the glow-ball tournament!”

  I touched the side of my head where a headache was forming. “Now that we’ve gotten that over with, I really didn’t kill him. I’m really worried about the effect that an unsolved murder could have on the club, especially after that newspaper article this morning. It looks like Oliver Shwetz may be a suspect because of that argument they had right before Ruddy stomped out, and now it looks like the wife, Linda, may not have an alibi, even though I would be shocked if she had anything to do with it.”

  Trudi shook her head. “We need to find some solid, forensic evidence that will tell us who killed him.”

  “Or we could quietly and discreetly ask a few questions and see if we can rule out somebody like Linda so she can have closure and go on with her life.”

  Trudi frowned. “And make sure that the police don’t suspect you. I don’t like the thought of the police suspecting you at all. We need to find out who did this.”

  Chapter 9

  STANDING in front of the women golfers enrolled in Ladies’ League the next Wednesday morning was more nerve-racking than many things I’ve done in my life.

  I never misplaced a kindergartner while I was on a field trip, but the flutters in my tummy and the shakiness of my fingers felt a lot like that one time when I had to step in front of a large father who was going to take out his anger on his kid. The brilliant sunshine warmed the top of my head, though the breeze chilled my ears.

  The sheet of paper in my hands trembled, and I read the words as I held the microphone, “Today, Ladies’ League is a shotgun start.”

  Snickering swept over the assembled group of women standing on the back of the practice putting green. Some of them held one of their hands over their mouths when I said the word “shotgun,” but a few of them outright laughed in a mean way.

  To be fair, a lot of them didn’t.

  I’ve known these women for years, and yet with just one murder accusation, they
were turning on me.

  Maybe I would be wary of someone who’d been accused of murder, too, but I wouldn’t laugh at them.

  If anything, laughing at a possible murderer seemed unwise.

  They should take that to heart.

  “Something funny?” I asked, and my voice boomed through the microphone and out the speakers hanging under the porch roof of the clubhouse.

  They quieted down. I could tell that a lot of them lost interest with just that little bit of pushback, but some of the women—the ones who I knew were a little meaner than the others to begin with—were still giving me the side-eye.

  Teachers know what to do when the mob is acting unruly. I fixed all of them with a strict gaze, standing above them with a stern look on my face and the thought in my head: I see you, you little hooligans.

  It worked on kindergartners.

  A few more of them quieted down, but there were still a half-dozen women whose glares were making me uncomfortable.

  Nobody said being Lady Captain was easy, especially when one had recently been accused of murdering somebody.

  I announced, “All threesomes should be at their starting tee box at nine o’clock. I will blow the air horn, and that will be your signal for the first person in your threesome to tee off. You may decide amongst yourselves who has the honor. The groups will tee off at nine o’clock, sharp.”

  A woman’s voice from the crowd said, “Sharp, like a knife?”

  I couldn’t answer anymore. I’d been the Lady Captain for five years. I’d put in a whole lot of volunteer work for the Canterbury Golf Club on numerous committees, and it seemed ridiculous that an unsubstantiated rumor was making these people say such unkind things.

  Resolving to ignore the comment, I folded my notepaper into crisp squares and leaned downed to tuck it into my golf bag beside my current favorite golf ball, which looked like a yellow-and-black soccer ball.

  A pair of scarlet golf shoes appeared in my peripheral vision.

  I glanced up, finding Ann Carmo standing beside me. This time, I recognized her right off with her scarlet lipstick, wide sunglasses, and dark visor shading her eyes and even around to her ears. She was wearing new red Adidas golf shoes that matched her lipstick.

  Ann announced in a loud voice, “Do you have something you want to say out loud, Nell?”

  Nell?

  Nell Rinaldi had belonged to the club for years. We’d served on probably five committees together, and she was saying stuff like that about me in front of everyone? I straightened and looked out over the group of several dozen women standing in the warm, springtime sunlight. Some ladies stood on the emerald, velvet practice green beside us, though most of the women stood on the asphalt-paved cart path, leaning on their pushcarts or sitting in their riding carts. Most of them were looking at their shoes or shifting from side to side, profoundly uncomfortable with the turn this morning had taken, but a few of the ladies were watching Nell and Ann closely.

  Nell said, “Everyone who reads mystery novels knows that the person who found the body is often the murderer. Beatrice found the body, so there is a very likely chance that she murdered Ruddy Agani. I think the publicity of the murder is hurting the club, and I think Beatrice should step down as Lady Captain until this is taken care of.”

  “You’re an idiot, Nell,” Ann told her, struggling to stuff her hand into an old golf glove. The glove’s fingers were gnarled with sweat and dirt, and Ann yanked the leather over her palm.

  Under most other circumstances, if Ann had told one of our members that they were an idiot, I might’ve said something.

  Not today.

  Nell muttered, though everyone could plainly hear her, “Hey, I’m not the one who lost a glowing ball in the dark and got left behind.”

  That was weird. I hadn’t even played in the glow-ball tournament.

  Ann continued, “Beatrice obviously didn’t kill Ruddy. Ruddy Agani was a huge, strong man. Even though Bee is obviously in great shape for a woman her age—”

  Now, I was thinking about stopping her.

  She dropped a tee and bent to pick it up. “—no one her size and age could possibly kill a man Ruddy’s size. A man must have done it, like Oliver Shwetz. We all saw them arguing. It’s obvious, right?” She winked at the crowd.

  I wasn’t sure Ann was right, but I didn’t want to protest that I could easily be a murderer in front of everyone. I didn’t like that she was blaming Oliver, though. He hadn’t even been charged, let alone convicted.

  Ann continued, “Especially since Bee is a little overweight and out of shape—”

  I was going to have to stop her soon for my own peace of mind.

  “—not to mention getting up there in years—”

  That was over the line. I golfed almost every day, and I walked our hilly course with my clubs in a pushcart. I could easily kill someone, if I wanted to.

  Not that I should announce that to the entire Ladies’ League.

  “—Not that Bee is morbidly obese or anything, but she’s just packing a few extra pounds on her.” Ann slapped her own slightly chubby behind. “I mean, we’re all carrying a few extra pounds, am I right? Wilber tells me I need to diet every day.”

  I was done. “Ann, thank you for that spirited defense, but I think I’m okay now.” I was holding onto a little bit of winter fluff, but that was no one’s business but my own. Not to mention that I didn’t tolerate anybody fat-shaming another person for any reason. It was uncouth and unkind, and I hadn’t put up with such cruelty from my kindergartners, either.

  Ann continued, “Just because Bee said that we should go look for Ruddy and it was her idea to look for him on the golf course, it doesn’t mean that she had anything to do with it.”

  If Ann defended me much longer, I was going to end up in the electric chair. “Will you look at the time! We need to start making our way to the tee boxes right now.”

  “Yeah, we’d better go,” someone else said. “We wouldn’t want Bee to get mad at us.”

  Trudi stepped beside me and lifted her chin.

  I laid my hand on her arm. My pride could not take any more defending that day.

  Trudi announced, “Beatrice is one of the most dedicated members of this club. I happen to know that Greens of Grass Country Club offered her an entirely free membership to come and be their Lady Captain.”

  “Trudi,” I whispered. That was supposed to be a secret.

  “But she didn’t take the free golf because she is loyal to Canterbury, and she is loyal to you. You should all be ashamed of yourselves if you would even think that about Bee. Bee is one of the nicest, sweetest women I know, and if a roomful of thirty kindergartners didn’t make her snap, nothing will.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “They were sweet. I loved my—”

  “Rainy day schedule,” Trudi said to me.

  Well, okay.

  “I don’t think anybody should be accusing anyone else of murdering Ruddy Agani, anyway,” Pauline Damir said to the assembled women golfers. “A lot of people were mad at Ruddy. His CPA firm did the bookkeeping for quite a few small businesses in town, like the Banks Funeral Home. I have a florist business, and the funeral home ordered a lot of flowers from me. They authorized the payments, but Ruddy Agani never paid their account unless I called and yelled at him. The last time I yelled at him, he still didn’t pay. I have to pay the flower wholesalers when I order the flowers, so if someone doesn’t pay me, I’m in debt.”

  Ann Campo said, “Yes, I heard that he did that a lot.”

  Pauline continued, “When someone else took over his accounts at his firm, the first thing I did was call them and get my money. I finally got a check this morning for the last six months’ worth of flowers. I hate to say that I’m glad he’s dead, but if something hadn’t happened, my flower shop would have gone bankrupt, just because he wouldn’t pay his clients’ bills on time. Before this happened, I was looking into hiring Oliver Shwetz or some other lawyer to send Ruddy official legal letters or
take him to small claims court. You know that, Ann.”

  Great, Pauline had just given herself motive, and I remembered that she had been at the glow-ball golf tournament that night. First, Ruddy had nearly barreled into her as he’d stomped out, so she had known where he had gone, and then she’d been standing with Ann quite a bit later and looking a mite wasted.

  Anybody could fake being tipsy, though.

  Or maybe she’d needed a stiff drink or three after what she’d done.

  Suspecting my friends of murder was an awful feeling.

  I asked Pauline, “Do you know of other people who had a problem with Ruddy not paying them from his CPA business?”

  “Lots of people! If you get a list of his clients, you’ll have a suspect list a mile long,” Pauline said.

  It seemed like everybody had wanted to kill Ruddy Agani, and yet everybody at Ladies’ League was still looking at me.

  “And on that note,” I shouted over the crowd of women waiting for Ladies’ League to begin, “you have ten minutes to get to your tee boxes before I will sound the air horn, and somebody from your group should tee off. Let’s make sure everybody’s in position so that everyone is safe. Ladies, let’s walk out.”

  Trudi turned to Ann Carmo. “Way to go with the backhanded defense there, Ann. I don’t think ‘Bee is too fat to kill anybody,’ is going to convince a jury she’s innocent. And you’re a sturdy woman yourself, as my German parents would’ve put it. Fat-shaming is a dick move. I can’t believe you did that in front of everybody.”

  Again, Trudi was direct, and sometimes direct was called for.

  Ann’s eyes widened in horror, and she put her fingers over her lips. From behind her hand, she said, “I’m so sorry, Bee. I didn’t have time to think, and I just wanted people to stop saying that about you. It’s absolutely ridiculous. We know that you didn’t have anything to do with Ruddy’s death, even though you were the person who found him.”

  Trudi stepped toward Ann. “I was there. You were there, too.”

  “Yes, but Bee was the one who suggested that we needed to go look for him,” she said. Ann’s lips pressed primly together.