“McMillan. Shell McMillan. I promise we’ll be brief. This will only take a moment of your time.”
He hesitated, then stepped back and let out a loud sneeze. He wiped his nose again with the back of his hand before looking at me again. “What do you want?”
“I understand that you have a relationship with one of the museum workers. Ms. Londra Lewis.”
That blank expression again, and then he passed a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, my brain doesn’t work right so late at night.” He barked out a short laugh. “It was a bad day at the casino, all around. No winners, except the slot machines and blackjack table.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry? What was the question?”
“You have a relationship with Ms. Lewis?”
“Londra?” He waved his hand. “Sure, I know her. Why?”
“You more than just know her, don’t you?” I persisted. “I’ve heard from many sources the two of you are quite close.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and leaned heavily on the porch rail. “The gossip in this town! Well, if we are, that’s really no one’s business, now is it? And why would that interest you?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but a shipment of rare knives was recently received by the museum, and there appears to be some difference of opinion as to whether all of them reached their destination.”
His eyes narrowed. “And that would involve me … how? It’s no concern of mine if the museum got gypped on a shipment. I mean, if they’d voted me to the board, I might care, but since I didn’t get on …” He lifted his shoulders in a gesture that implied he couldn’t care less.
I pressed on, determined. “I understand you’re somewhat of an expert on antique knives, and that Londra … consulted with you on the subject?”
“I wouldn’t call it consulting. She may have asked me one or two general questions about knives.” He puffed out his chest. “I am sort of an expert on the subject. It’s been a hobby of mine for quite some time.”
“Did she ask you about a particular type of knife? A Tuareg knife?”
“She may have. I don’t rightly remember. I answer a lot of questions about knives for a lot of people, and I never had to keep track of who asked what question,” he snapped then held up his wrist and tapped at the face of his watch. “If that’s all you want, like I said, it’s very late and I’m tired. If you need any more information, I’m sure it’ll keep until morning?”
Mel’s recalcitrant attitude was a sure sign I wasn’t going to get any more out of him. I plastered a phony smile across my lips and said, “Of course. Thank you for your time.” I turned and started down the steps as Mel fumbled in his pocket for his keys. On the third step, I stopped. “One last thing.”
He looked over his shoulder at me, still fishing in his pocket. “What?”
“Is Londra allergic to peanuts?”
There was no mistaking the look of surprise on his face. “Peanuts? She is? Wow, well, that would explain why she never eats peanut butter, I guess. If that’s all, I’ll say good night.” He whipped the key out of his pocket, turned it in the lock, and then disappeared inside, letting the door slam behind him. I stared at the closed door for a minute, then turned and walked swiftly toward Gary’s parked car. He’d had to do a U-turn to find an open parking spot. He shot me a look as I opened the passenger door and got inside.
“You should have waited for me,” he chided. “I might have been able to get more out of him.”
“I doubt it.” I tapped my chin with my nail. “He didn’t know if Londra was allergic to peanuts.”
Gary turned the key in the ignition and then turned his head to look at me. “What?”
I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “He didn’t know if she was allergic to peanuts. Don’t you think he would have, if they’d really been in a relationship?”
Gary shrugged. “Maybe not. I’ve dated women and not known every single thing about them.”
“But they were supposed to be in a serious relationship. Londra stole knives out of a shipment, ostensibly for him. You’d surely think he’d know.”
“Maybe he does—did. Maybe he was lying.”
“No, I don’t think so. He looked genuinely surprised when I told him.”
“It’s not that unusual. You can’t tell me Pat knew everything about you. The fact you like half-and-half instead of milk in your coffee, and when you drink tea you always wind the teabag string around your finger while it’s steeping.”
“There’s another possibility. Maybe Londra wasn’t the woman Mel was dating.”
“If not Londra, then who—OW!” he cried as my nails dug into his forearm. “Don’t do that.”
“Cut the engine,” I hissed. “Don’t put your lights on.”
“For pity’s sakes, why? Don’t you want to go home?”
“I’d rather see who this is first.”
I inclined my head toward the darkened street. A car had just turned the corner, heading toward us. What was unusual was, its headlights were off. I grabbed Gary’s arm and pushed him down in the seat. I slid down too, and we both peeped over the top of the dashboard, watching as the car made a sharp turn and pulled into the driveway of the darkened house next to Mel Feller’s. A few seconds later a horn blasted once, then Mel came banging out of his back door. He hurried over to the car, opened the passenger door, and got in. The driver put the car into reverse, backed out of the drive, and took off like a rocket down the street.
Gary turned the key in the ignition. “Want to follow ’em?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. They’re driving too fast. Could you see what color that sedan was?”
“Not really, but if I had to guess, I’d say maybe … dark red.”
“When they shot out of the drive, I got a glimpse of the person in the driver’s seat—just an impression, but I thought it was a light-haired female.”
Gary shook his head. “I didn’t notice, sorry.” He leaned over to look deeply into my eyes. “I know that look. Your wheels are spinning. You think you know who Feller’s nocturnal visitor was?”
“I’m pretty sure I do,” I said slowly. “I’m pretty sure that was Mayor Carolyn Hart.”
“The mayor?” Gary let out a low whistle. “You’ve got to be wrong. What would she be doing with Feller?”
“The mayor is an honorary museum board member,” I said slowly. “Maybe the museum woman Mel was involved with wasn’t Londra. Maybe it was Mayor Hart.”
Gary’s jaw dropped. “Really? You think the mayor, who you described as a classy woman, would be running around with that guy?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure what to think.”
Gary started up the car and eased away from the curb. “Know what? I think we both need to get back to your place, eat this food, and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe in the morning, when we’re both fresh, we can put some of this in perspective.”
We rode the rest of the way back to my house in silence. Londra might have been responsible for Amelia’s death, but somehow, I didn’t think so. I had the feeling she’d been an innocent pawn in a very dangerous game, like Kim Novak’s character in Vertigo, only Londra had paid with her life. But proving it?
That was another matter entirely.
• Twenty-Six •
The next day I decided that in light of Londra’s confession, phony though I thought it was, least the heat was off me, so I should get back to making arrangements for the grand reopening of the Purr N Bark. I left Gary sleeping, fed the cats, and drove down to the store shortly before nine. Once inside, I paused and looked around. I could feel Aunt Tillie’s presence, smiling at me, encouraging me in this new venture. I knew that wherever she was, she was extremely proud.
First thing I did was measure the area behind the counter. Sure enough, it was just as I suspected. The Poe bust would fit, but there w
ould be little room for anything else, including me. The section over by the cat toys, though, was perfect. A table would fit in between the cat wands and the birdseed, and Edgar and the Raven would be visible enough to welcome both old and new customers.
I made some more supplier calls. One was to the parrot breeder that my aunt had used. He was delighted to have the Purr N Bark’s business again, and promised to meet with me early next week to review what I’d need. Next I called the exotic fish supplier and made arrangements to have several different types of fish delivered within the next two weeks. I ordered a larger amount of goldfish, figuring they were the more universally appealing. I could always add or subtract as I got more used to my customer base. That reminded me, I’d also have to see about updating the store’s website. Aunt Tillie had created one, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d call state of the art. Since I was what one would refer to as technologically challenged, I’d probably have to hire someone to spruce it up a bit, maybe add a section for online sales. I made a mental note to ask Gary. My ex co-star was far more savvy about websites and such things than I.
I’d just finished placing an order for dog and cat food through another of Tillie’s trusted suppliers and was about to call the birdseed supplier when I heard a tap-tap at the door. The sign—CLOSED. REOPENING SOON—was still taped there. Couldn’t anyone in this town read?
“We’re not open yet, sorry,” I called loudly. I went back through my ledger but the tapping persisted, more insistent this time. With a groan, I shoved myself off the stool and marched to the front door, flung it open—and then let out a gasp as I saw Josh standing there. I tried not to notice how handsome he looked in a green blazer, khaki pants, and a tan and white striped shirt. The smile he offered me was wide and genuine, and for a moment I was reminded of the day we’d met in the park, when none of the ugliness of Amelia’s murder had interfered.
“Good morning, Shell. I stopped by your house, but Gary said you’d come here.”
Ah, so Gary had read the note I’d left him. That was encouraging. “Yes, I figured since I was eliminated as a suspect, I could finally start planning the grand reopening.” I paused. “I am eliminated, right?”
He nodded. “I never really seriously considered you a suspect.”
I raised a brow. “You could have fooled me.”
He chuckled. “I just thought I’d drop by to let you know that we got the final coroner’s report. Londra died from anaphylactic shock resulting from an allergic reaction to peanuts.”
I nodded. “Does that mean you’re going to close both cases? Write up Londra’s death as a suicide and brand her Amelia’s murderer?”
“The evidence makes it appear that’s what happened,” he said. Again, I noticed the extra inflection he put on the word appear.
I looked him right in the eye. “Is that what you think happened?”
“I’m not sure. It all seems neat and tidy.” Josh leaned his elbow against the counter. “In addition to the peanut shells and half-empty bag we found under the desk, we also found a paper in a file folder on the desk. The amended bill of lading for that knife shipment and the request for refund.” Josh reached into his jacket pocket and removed a paper from it. He laid it on the counter and I leaned in for a closer look. There was a long list of items, three of which had circles around them, indicating they were missing. At the bottom was Mazie Madison’s signature.
“We compared the handwriting on the suicide note with the note found on Amelia,” Josh said. “They match. Londra probably took the knives to show her boyfriend, Mel Feller, and Amelia must have found out about it somehow. She most likely threatened Londra with theft charges, and Londra felt desperate. She saw an opportunity to solve the problem when you started quizzing, and pissing off, the other board members. Mazie verified that Amelia usually came by the museum on Sunday mornings to look over any board correspondence. Londra knew that and so she wrote that note to Amelia, figuring Amelia would get in touch with you and tell you to come down and then she went in and killed her. But the guilt over trying to blame you for the murder as well as actually committing the murder finally got to her, and she took her own life.”
I had to agree, it certainly seemed neat and tidy. Too neat and tidy.
“What about Mayor Hart?” I asked abruptly.
Josh’s brows drew together. “Mayor Hart?”
“She’s an honorary board member, as I understand it. Did anyone check on her alibi for the time of Amelia’s death?”
Josh stared at me. “Shell, you can’t be serious. You think Mayor Hart had something to do with Amelia’s death?”
“I’m just wondering if anyone’s checked out the possibility that maybe the woman Mel Feller had a relationship with wasn’t Londra.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “You think Mel and the mayor …?” He stared at me, and then started to laugh.
“I don’t see where it’s so funny,” I snapped. “When I questioned Mel last night, it certainly didn’t seem to me as if he was in a serious relationship with Londra. He didn’t even know she was allergic to peanuts!”
“When you questioned … what were you doing interrogating him?” Josh cried.
“Someone had to,” I said with a curl of my lip.
Josh started to sputter something, but stopped as his phone rang. He whipped it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen. He gave me a baleful look and said, “I have to take this. Excuse me just a sec.” He moved over toward the rack that held the rabbit and gerbil food, and I noticed that he’d left the bill of lading lying on my counter. I picked up my iPhone from the counter, walked over to the piece of paper, and took two quick pictures of it. Why, I had no idea.
Josh returned, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry, that was the station. I have to go.” He plucked the paper from the counter, folded it, slid it into his other pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”
That was my cue to look adoringly into his eyes and say, “Oh, Josh, I would love that. Maybe we can get together soon.” Instead I heard myself saying, “Have you even questioned Mel Feller about his relationship with Londra yet?”
Josh looked a bit surprised, but he nodded. “I went over there early this morning.”
“Was he surprised to learn she was dead?”
“Not really.” As my eyes widened he added, “He said that Londra had been having some problems recently. He also admitted that their relationship was fragile and under a strain. He was considering breaking up with her. Quite honestly, he wasn’t a bit surprised she committed suicide.”
Of course not, I thought. Not when his real girlfriend already tipped him off and probably coached him on what to say.
“Fine.” I didn’t even make a move to walk him to the door. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment, then gave me a curt nod and said, “Sure. I’ll see you.”
I watched as the door closed behind him. Then I let out a long sigh, picked up the ledger, and called the birdseed supplier. Sunflower seeds wait for no man.
∞
“Why did you take photos of this bill of lading?” Gary asked. I’d returned home after finishing with the suppliers to find Gary, dressed in polo shirt and khakis, sitting in the living room, sipping coffee and reading the paper. I’d gotten myself a cup of coffee and filled him in on Josh’s visit.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. I just have a feeling that all this isn’t over yet.”
“Because you won’t let it be over,” Gary hissed back. “Goodness, Shell, I thought that was what you wanted. To get this murder solved and get your name cleared so you could get on with your life, start up your new business, and …” He glanced significantly toward the doorway. “Maybe have a date or two with the detective when you aren’t a murder suspect.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a feeling Josh isn’t very satisfied with the way thi
s case wrapped up either,” I snapped.
“The evidence says otherwise.” Gary started to tick off on his fingers. “There’s the note, written in her handwriting, confessing to the crime. There’s the fact her handwriting is identical to the one on the note Amelia received. There’s—”
“Another point I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “That first note referred to the fact I’d ‘discovered her secret.’ Just what secret was that, anyway?”
“Maybe Londra was just bluffing. Or maybe she was referring to Amelia’s affair with Peabody, intimating that you’d found out.”
“I found out well after that. And how would Londra know about it?”
“Small town. Big on gossip.”
“Maybe.” I pushed the heel of my hand through my hair. “The whole thing doesn’t make any sense. Plus, I have trouble wrapping my head around the fact she and Mel were involved. I mean, she seemed so nice and Mel was just … oh, I don’t know, her total opposite. I know opposites are supposed to attract, but in that case …” I gave my head a brisk shake. “I can’t figure it.”
“Yet you have no problem with Feller and the mayor being involved.” Gary threw up both hands. “You’re impossible, Shell. You just won’t let this go.”
“I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Everyone said that Londra also hated Amelia because she kept passing her over for a docent position at the museum. Someone who wants to climb the ladder wouldn’t endanger her career chances by signing for a shipment and then taking knives she never planned to return, let alone take their own life. It would have been too easy for her to get caught.”
“Maybe she thought she’d put the knives back before anyone noticed they were missing. Maybe her plan backfired, and Feller wanted to keep the knives, persuaded her not to return them.”
I got right up in Gary’s face. “I doubt that. For one thing, if he loved her, he wouldn’t want her to get in trouble, and for another, I still don’t think they were a couple.”
Gary walked over to me, leaned over, put both hands on my shoulders, and gave me a hard shake. “Snap out of it,” he said. “I thought you liked that guy?”
The Time for Murder is Meow Page 24