While Emma visited with Nana D, I had time to strategize how to handle my situation with Francesca. I had a former colleague who was in Orlando for a film shoot. I asked him to send me a postcard from one of the Disney properties with a message about our time with Mickey and Minnie Mouse being the most fun ever. It didn't matter which resort because Francesca and I had never been to Orlando. If Vincenzo and Cecilia were faking her absence, this new postcard would certainly cause a reaction. If they acted as though it was just another one of Francesca's trips, maybe they really weren't behind her mysterious disappearance.
By the next morning, Emma was one-hundred percent focused on Rodney, so we didn't discuss the shiba inu puppy. For some reason, I had a dream where he'd come to live with us, and I'd named him Baxter. What a rambunctious little tyke he was, too!
While Emma was in school, I went to work and caught up with my boss. Myriam had learned nothing new from Ursula but steamrolled right over me with her normal disgruntled attitude and perseverance. “I don't know what all the fuss is about you, Mr. Ayrwick. Students seem to love you, but all I see is a lot of talk and no action. 'What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.' ”
I ignored her as she clomped down the back stairs of Diamond Hall mumbling to herself about the ignorance and limited necessity of men. How did Ursula put up with that dragon-lady? Instead, I taught my class and looked forward to lunch with Gabriel. When my session with the students was finished, I checked my cell phone. Unfortunately, Gabriel canceled lunch without giving me any reason. He promised to be available the following day whether it was a meal or a quick beer at a remote pub in one of the nearby villages.
I strolled over to the student union building to grab a quick lunch. Situated in the center of campus, the building was one of the more modern structures on campus. It held the student cafeteria, a quick access to-go sandwich and salad outlet, the mailroom, two bookstores, an auditorium for holding assemblies, a lounge, and a few other student hotspots.
Dr. Singh and Fern were in line ordering lunch when I arrived. I waved and waited for Fern to finish paying for a large cup of oatmeal. “Dr. Betscha says my cholesterol was a little high and insisted I eat more oatmeal. Who does that in May?”
We reveled in hilarious banter about food choices in our thirties versus our fifties, catching a few puzzled expressions from students as they wandered by. I asked Fern how her son Arthur was doing with the big changes in his life, namely a new baby that would be due in about five months. “Do he and Jennifer have a wedding date set?”
“I keep asking, but Jennifer is adamant about keeping it simple. I was worried about my son marrying into the Paddington family after the whole sordid affair with that murder,” she said shaking her head back and forth. “But she's been nothing but pleasant and down-to-earth lately.”
“Speaking of weddings, I hear you were married recently,” I said, turning to Dr. Singh.
She nodded. “My apologies, I must be going. Class starts in ten minutes.”
“Congratulations. When was it?” I didn't want to let her escape without answering me.
“I'd rather not discuss it. It is a private affair, and I don't understand why everyone keeps asking me about it today,” she replied and began to scamper away.
“Oh, okay. I'm sorry. By the way, did you ever find that missing lab coat?” The timing of her marriage shouldn't be something to make her nervous. Would questions about the night of the murder?
“No, someone must have accidentally taken it or thrown it out. I'm very late. Goodbye.” She briskly jogged out the front entrance toward Cambridge Hall of Science.
“Anita's usually much more composed and friendlier,” Fern said.
“Definitely surprising.” Dr. Singh's behavior was suspicious, but I knew little about her to offer any reasoning behind the sudden chilly attitude. Suddenly remembering Fern had asked for my help with a recommendation for a caterer, I said, “How did your conversation go with Karen and Doug Stoddard to discuss the plans for the engagement party?”
Fern indicated she'd made the appointment with Karen, but when she went to meet her at the downtown office and restaurant, the woman never showed up. “It was odd. She called later to apologize and cited an urgent meeting with Dean Mulligan on the Mendel flower show.”
“That's certainly not a stellar way to grow her business. I thought she was more dependable, I'm so sorry,” I said feeling a bit guilty, then considering what kind of emergency could happen with a flower show. I theorized very little could justify her absence other than something peculiar and devious going on between anyone involved in the event. I clearly was missing relevant information.
“No, it's fine. Doug was there, and he and I spoke about the party. Since it's going to be a small affair, it was mostly about food and beverages. He was very helpful,” Fern added. She explained they'd gotten along well and talked about their vastly different careers. “He mentioned how unsure he was of moving to such a remote town to open a restaurant on his own. But apparently, it's worked out. He'll never doubt Karen's suggestions when she picks a place to live based on a new job opportunity.”
Fern's response confused me. When I'd spoken with Karen, she'd told me that their daughter's friend had shown her a picture of Crilly Lake. She and Doug booked a long weekend trip the following day. “Are you sure he said that Karen picked Braxton? I could have sworn it was more random.”
“Yes, he said Karen came home one day all worked up about leaving the big city. Mentioned she had made a big-time connection and pushed them to move here to handle some major events.” Fern nodded vigilantly as she pocketed some napkins from the counter. “Gotta go. Let's do dinner soon.”
Something wasn't adding up with Karen and Doug Stoddard. Although Millard and Maggie had both hired them to manage or cater their events, and they both had good instincts, I needed to do my own verification on their background. I also wanted to find out how Sierra fit into the puzzle.
Since I wasn't too far from Memorial Library, I checked on Maggie. I was curious about her meeting with the Board of Trustees and Ursula regarding the incident in the courtyard and the future renovations for the building. I called to ask if she needed any lunch, but she'd already eaten. “Come on by, I have pictures from the event to show you,” she excitedly rattled off.
I scarfed down a healthy chicken and avocado wrap as I walked to the library. The yellow tape had been removed from the double doors leading to the private employee offices. I crossed the entrance and made a right in the opposite direction to locate Maggie's office. As Maggie hung up the phone, I noted, “Looks like things are getting back to normal around here.”
“Finally, it's taken the whole week for the detective to collect all his evidence,” Maggie sighed. She flipped the monitor around on her screen and keyed in a few commands to bring up the pictures. “Helena tells me you've been helping her with a file she found in George Braun's room at the inn?”
Maggie and I caught up on everything we'd known about the professor's death and Helena's involvement in the case. With no prints other than George's on the knife, it wasn't looking good for her sister. The sheriff still hadn't made an arrest because Judge Grey wouldn't issue a warrant until they had more sufficient evidence. “I hope she's not trying to prove collusion between Cheney and Helena. He fought with George, but she claims it was about access to his room. That's not enough to kill someone.”
“Detective Gilkrist and his team have been through the bed and breakfast. They aren't sharing much except they have other potential angles they are considering,” Maggie sulked.
“The usual tactics. April Montague likes to let her suspects sweat it out for a few days. Then she comes at them like gangbusters once all her evidence is irrefutable.” I smiled at Maggie and hoped she could feel my support and friendship shining through loud and clear. Although I wanted to explain Ursula's connection to George Braun, it wasn't fair to reveal someone else's secret. “They know whom the knife belongs to now. It
might help them figure this out more quickly.”
“That's good news. My parents are worried about the inn's reputation and Helena's future. They still can't rent out the room until the police are finished and they find the next of kin.” Maggie's melancholic voice struggled to push past the fear and hold on to hope. “I thought if you looked through the photos with me, maybe you'd see something.”
“Did you share these with the sheriff?” I asked, assuming April must have thought about whether there was any video recording or photo coverage in the library.
“Yes, she dropped by to get a copy this morning. She asked me not to share them with anyone,” Maggie winked as she clicked open the first photo. “I am pretty certain she was referring to you, but to her credit, she only said, 'nosy non-pertinent people' and didn't mention any names.”
“April definitely meant me. At least she's getting nicer about it,” I replied. I confirmed with Maggie that there were no video recordings in the library, as it hadn't been upgraded like other parts of the campus were the previous semester.
“We talked about putting in some temporary cameras when I first took over, but with the renovation happening soon, it didn't make sense to spend the additional funding. Nothing bad has happened in the library since I started,” Maggie quipped. “Until you came back to town.”
“Just show me the pictures, funny girl,” I said as I stuck my tongue at her. We flipped through several, focusing on anyone I saw dressed in a white costume or at anyone who stood near George Braun in his Dr. Evil costume. Based on the time stamps from the digital camera the photographer had used, most of the photos were taken as people entered the library or during the brief presentation about the library's renovation donation fund.
Maggie saved a local copy of each photo that matched anything we were looking for. When we were finished going through them all, she opened all the images at the same time on her computer. “We should connect these to the projector in the movie room. If they're enlarged, we might catch something we don't see on this small screen.”
“You're quite the detective yourself, Miss Roarke,” I said as she downloaded the ten files to a thumb drive and left her office. We stopped at the front reception desk where she grabbed the key for the movie room in the basement of the library. “Did you ever find out how someone opened the door to the private office area the night of the costume extravaganza?”
Maggie groaned as she inserted the key in the lock. “Yes, the wonderful Helena Roarke strikes again. We have my sister to thank for the whole mess.” Maggie had given the set of keys to Helena earlier in the night so she could unload some of the presentation materials and the bottles of champagne. The temperatures had dropped enough that the champagne could chill in the courtyard since there weren't enough refrigerators in the library for all they'd bought. Helena had conveniently forgotten to return the keys or lock the door, as it was the only place where she could sneak in a smoke break or spend a few minutes making out with Cheney when no one needed them.
“That girl is gonna be her own downfall one day, Maggie.” I followed her into the movie room and thought about what the news meant as she loaded the files. A large rectangular space without windows, the place felt like a cave. There was a chill in the air since we were technically in the basement of the library, but the heat had also been turned off for the summer already. Stadium-style seating supported up to two hundred guests, and the place was used either for weekly movie nights for students and staff or for anyone majoring in film production who was sharing projects with the rest of the class. I'd used it once last semester for a project, but I hadn't yet attended any flicks myself.
If the door to the private employee entrance had been open all evening, anyone could have gotten to the courtyard at any point. The killer could have been in hiding and lured George to the courtyard. Or the killer could have seen George follow Helena or Cheney back there. “Wait, did Helena ever tell you why George was out there? I just remembered she saw him with Cheney earlier. Did Cheney ask George to meet him in the courtyard?”
“Cheney saw George follow Helena into the private office area. He then followed the guy, worried about what he was up to. George must have gotten lost and wound up in the courtyard where Cheney confronted him. Helena was in one of the offices getting a box of party favors I wanted to hand out to guests.” Maggie flipped a switch on a nearby console, and our ten pictures were displayed on a large screen on the north wall.
“That's when Helena saw them fighting but walked away after they'd calmed down. So, if Cheney's not the murderer, someone else snuck in. He or she must have been watching George all night and saw him leave the main room.” I met Maggie in the middle of the seating area so we could focus on the pictures together.
With a laser pointer, she aimed the red dot on the first picture. “There is George talking to Karen in the Bride of Frankenstein costume. They look like they're having an argument, don't they?”
“Yes,” I huffed. “How much do you really know about the Stoddards?” I shared my concerns with Maggie that I knew George had lived in Chicago at one point. I didn't tell her it was when he was known as Hans Mück, but I wanted to gauge her trust with the owners of the newest event management company and restaurant in Braxton.
“Connor and I had dinner there one night earlier this year. I can't exactly remember, but somehow it came up that I worked at Braxton. Karen mentioned she was chatting with a few departments to cater some events.”
“So, you don't know her well? Karen suggested her company to you, not the other way around,” I clarified. Something told me Karen was trying to get herself involved in the costume extravaganza.
“You're right, now that we're talking about it. I didn't think I needed anyone, but she offered a discount and gave me some great ideas.” Maggie pointed the laser at another picture. “You could be right. Here is another one of Karen and George standing near the door to the private offices.”
I noticed Doug was also in the picture, and he had an angry look on his face. “Of the ten photos George shows up in, five also contain the Stoddards.”
“Here's another one with George talking to Dr. Singh and Dean Mulligan. It looks like they walked into the event together. None of them look pleased with one another, huh?” Maggie enlarged the photos.
I agreed. “And in this one at eight fifty, Dean Mulligan's costume looks different. See where the lightning bolt was on the left side in the first photo. Now it's on the right and further down across his stomach.” Could he have been trying to hide any blood evidence from attacking George?
“Check this photo of George with Ursula and Myriam. He looks a little perturbed there, too. Maybe he always has an angry face, Kellan. Some people don't smile very often.” For added emphasis, Maggie chuckled and poked me in my side, hoping to tickle me.
“Stop it! You know I can't stand that,” I practically screamed like a teenage girl and grabbed her wrist so she couldn't do it again. I pushed her back toward one of the seats and leaned in to tickle her, knowing she was just as weak as I was when it came to that form of torture. Not realizing how close we were to the seats, she lost her balance, began to fall and in the process, took me to the floor with her.
For a minute, we couldn't stop laughing. Neither of us had been hurt, but we also hadn't heard someone else enter the room. Just as Maggie reached a hand out to me so I could help her stand, Nana D sauntered over to us. “Is this how you spend your days at work? No wonder your father had to retire if his son was embarrassing himself by crawling on the floor in the basement of the library with the head librarian. Tsk tsk.”
I would have been much more embarrassed if it had been Myriam, April, or Connor who'd caught us, but given it was my seventy-four-year-old grandmother who was also trying to push the two of us together, I didn't worry. “I dropped my glasses. Maggie was helping me look for them. You know how blind I am without them.”
“Absolutely,” Maggie added, handing me my glasses which had actually fallen to
the floor. Nana D didn't need to know it was due to a tickle fight. “All good now, Kellan?”
I nodded while Nana D rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion and said, “Isn't that what you'd do if the situation were reversed? I might be a few years older than you, but my hearing's not going. I heard your laughter.”
I did not want to think about a reverse situation where Nana D was rolling on the floor with a man. I also needed to stop her from further talking. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to campus to meet with Ed Mulligan but also drop off a book I borrowed from Maggie. Since I'm a woman with proper manners,” Nana D said while holding out a Mary Deal paperback with her right hand, “I thought I would say hello before I left. That kid up at the circulation desk told me Maggie was down here.” Wow! Everyone in my house was reading Mary Deal's books this month after the library recommended her as its author of the month.
“Why are you meeting with Dean Mulligan?” What was Nana D up to now? I couldn't shake the concern growing in my head over the dean's reaction on our phone call and his skewed costume.
“I'm not sure. He called the meeting, but I plan to convince him to vote for me next week, brilliant one.”
Maggie added, “Thank you, Nana D. I am always happy to see you. Why don't we have a cup of tea before you meet with the dean? You've got fifteen minutes before he's expecting you. I've got a new vanilla caramel tea I want to try.”
Before Maggie left with Nana D, she handed me the thumb drive and told me to figure out how it could help her sister. The only immediate way I knew how was to see the Stoddards again, hoping I could straighten out their reasons for moving to Braxton and learn whether they knew George Braun in Chicago. Since I planned to pick up Emma after I met the Stoddards, I drove rather than walked downtown.
All the storefronts on the side of the road opposite the river were mirror images of one another. The Wharton County Civic Center and Merchants Association wanted to maintain a small-town aesthetic and minimum standard with red brick facades, gold and white signs with black scrolled writing, and wrought iron window boxes filled with colorful flowers. On the riverside, each restaurant could design its own exterior, but it had to employ a similar color palette. At Christmastime, it was meticulously decorated with gorgeous fir trees, antique holiday lights, and real garland. It felt magical.
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