by Donna McLean
“I don’t know anything about the disappearance, if that’s what you’re asking!” Maybellanne lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “And I haven’t been meeting someone, man or otherwise. Who’s been telling you these things? Gossiping old ladies with nothing better to do than to talk about the mayor’s wife, from the wrong side of the tracks! Is that where you’re getting your information, officer?”
Campbell opened his mouth to give an official response when he noticed, with a shock, that Maybellanne’s eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. He decided that a different approach was needed. He sat down on the sofa across from her, leaned forward, and spoke gently.
“Maybellanne, we were kids together. I know you better than just about anybody else in this little town. And you know me.”
She looked at him in defiance. Maybellanne Motley was too proud to let anyone see her cry, and she knew that he knew it. They had been kids together, in the toughest part of town. Her defiance softened. She cleared her throat and spoke, without looking him in the eye.
“I guess my husband has been talking to you.” Her voice was calm, even numb.
“Yes, he was in my office this morning. He’s very concerned about you, Maybellanne. He’s really worried. Please tell me what’s going on so that I can help you. Help both of you!”
The woman raised an elegant hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. She sighed. “I have been meeting someone. A man. But it’s not who you think it is. And it’s not for the reasons you think, either.”
The policeman waited patiently while the mayor’s wife gathered her courage in silence. After a few long minutes, she spoke.
“A few weeks ago a strange man contacted me. He said he had pictures. Pictures that the editor of the newspaper would be very interested in publishing, if I didn’t stop him from sending those pictures to the newspaper.”
Campbell leaned back on the sofa and thought things over. That fit what Addie McRae had told him, about the mayor’s wife looking at a picture outside the café and slipping it into her purse as though she didn’t want it to be seen.
“This photo—” he began.
The lady interrupted him before he could ask. “Oh, it’s a stupid, silly picture of my husband, supposedly with another woman. His arm is around her shoulder and she, well, is in a state of undress, to put it delicately. But it’s obviously been altered to make it look like something is going on when it isn’t. I’m sure of that! People can do anything with computers these days. I think the creeps took a picture of Hubbell at a meet and greet event and then altered it digitally.”
“A set up and extortion?” Douglas asked. The mayor’s wife nodded. He grunted. “Could be. Hard to believe the mayor would be involved with anyone else. He doesn’t seem like the type. But it happens in the best of families, Maybellanne. Nobody’s perfect.”
Mrs. Motley dabbed at her eyes. “Perfect,” she echoed bitterly. “I know plenty about being perfect. The best clothes, the best hair stylist, the best house in the best neighborhood. Volunteering for committees and hosting swanky parties for charities. Do you realize how difficult it is to live in this little town, married to the mayor, of all people, coming from the background I had?” She looked at Campbell. He remained silent. “And no matter what I do or how hard I try, it’s never good enough for the good ladies of Sparrow Falls.”
“You don’t have to please everyone, Maybellanne,” Campbell said gently. “There are a lot of genuinely good people in this town who admire what you do. Who you’ve become.”
The blond nodded, fell silent for a moment, thinking it over. She smiled. “Who I’ve become, thanks to my husband. Do you know, Douglas, Hubbell was the only person in my life who ever really believed in me? I was a kid living on the wrong side of the tracks. Hubbell saw past the tattered clothes and the dirty face. He convinced me that I didn’t have to be a high school dropout. He helped me earn my diploma. And after we were married he convinced me that I could earn a college degree! Me, Edith Pidgeon, from the wrong side of the tracks. That’s the kind of man he is, Douglas. A good, decent, honest man who believes in the goodness and decency of other people. I guess I saw past his reputation, too. I saw past the pompous, plump rich kid, and I fell in love.”
Officer Campbell looked her in the eye. With no inflection in his voice at all, he stated, “People have been saying that the two of you haven’t been getting along too good of late.” He studied her face.
The lady rolled her eyes in disgust. “People are saying! You mean Delcie Needles and her flock of hens! Think about it, Douglas. Don’t you think everyone would know all the dirty details, including names, if Hubbell really were seeing someone else? Nobody can keep a secret in this town with that bunch of gossips around. No, you can’t keep a secret in Sparrow Falls . . .” Her voice trailed off and the officer noticed that her finely manicured hands were clenched into fists.
Campbell kept his tone even. “I have to ask this. Maybellanne, are you certain there isn’t another woman?”
She met his gaze without hesitation. “Yes, I am absolutely certain. There is no other woman. My husband has never strayed. He’s a good man, a decent man. We’ve been very happy together. Someone is trying to ruin him. His career, his reputation. Or maybe the creep simply wants money. I don’t know.”
Officer Campbell took out his notebook and pencil. He flipped over a few pages and wrote something down. “This creep. Do you know him? Can you describe him?”
Mrs. Motley hesitated. She ran a finger along the pattern of the damask chair and her lovely diamond rings sparkled in the light.
Campbell shifted impatiently. “This creep showed up before the announcement at the mansion, correct?”
The mayor’s wife froze. She remained silent.
“Okay, let’s put it another way. The man you’ve been meeting outside your house in recent days. Describe him.”
She answered the question cautiously.
“I’d never seen that man before. He’s tall, thin. Dark brown hair, nearly black. Short hair. He’s a well groomed man with expensive suits.”
“Suits? So he’s never casually dressed, always in business attire?”
The mayor’s wife nodded. “Yes, a suit and tie. Designer ones, silk. He carries a small attaché case. For the pictures, I guess,” she added bitterly.
“Name?”
This time she shook her head. “He never told me and I never asked.”
“How did he first contact you?”
“By a telephone call, here, at the house, while Hubbell was at the office. Always when Hubbell is at the office. He told me that he had compromising pictures that the mayor wouldn’t want made public, and to meet him outside the house with five thousand dollars in cash or the pictures would be sent to the local newspaper.”
“And he probably showed up more than once, offering more photos, demanding more money. How much has it cost you so far, Maybellanne?”
She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “I told him he wasn’t getting a thing until I got a good look at the photo and could verify the accuracy of it myself! Then we would talk money.”
“And he agreed to that?”
“Yes, he agreed to give me one photo. He claims there are more where that came from, and that he can sell the woman’s story to the paper as well, if I don’t pay up. I doubt if there are other photos. He’s bluffing, if you ask me.”
“What does the mayor say about it?”
The lady shook her head. “He doesn’t know. I haven’t told him.”
The officer looked incredulous. “You never asked your husband about the woman in the picture? Or told him about the man you’ve been meeting right outside this house?”
“No!” The denial exploded in the quiet room. “I don’t want Hubbell to know anything about this mess! I’m certain that he’s completely innocent and that someone is trying to take advantage of that innocence. You know him, Douglas! You know that underneath the pomposity he’s a sweet, gentle, trusting man. And knowing t
hat someone would do such an awful thing to a person who has never done them any harm, well, even the idea that people are capable of such things would upset him terribly!”
She shook her head and her tone was defiant. “No, Douglas, I will not tell him about this. I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll keep his honorable name out of it. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my husband!” Her eyes flashed with rebellious anger and determination.
At that moment, Officer Campbell believed that Mrs. Motley really would do anything to protect the man she loved. He rose from the chair and met her determined gaze with an equally steadfast forcefulness.
“Where were you two weeks ago, Friday night?”
She hesitated for a split second. “I was here, and so was Hubbell, along with most of the high society crowd from Sparrow Falls. We were having a small cocktail party for a few of the mayor’s most loyal supporters.” Her voice was bitter.
Campbell glanced at his notebook. He looked at Mrs. Motley and studied her face. “The mayor says that you disappeared for a few minutes. About twenty five minutes, to be exact. A few others confirm that statement.”
Maybellanne Motley answered him in an even tone that suppressed underlying anger. “I spent some time with Betty in the kitchen. We had two dozen guests to feed.”
Officer Campbell bent his head. He scribbled something in the notebook, tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll have to have that picture, Maybellanne. You know that. It’s evidence of blackmail, if nothing else.”
Maybellanne Motley sat bolt upright on the white chair. Her fingers gripped the arms tightly and her voice shook. “What do you mean?” she cried. “It’s just blackmail, that’s all! A clumsy attempt at blackmail by some cheap crook!”
“And it could be tied with Edison’s disappearance, in some way. Maybe the blackmailer went after him, too. Edison’s always been an upstanding citizen, but you never know about people.” The officer frowned, studying the woman’s terrified face. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, Maybellanne?”
“No, no, there’s nothing at all. Nothing!” She rose from the chair, slowly regaining her composure with an obvious effort. “I’ll get that picture for you, Douglas. But you won’t show it to anyone, will you? Please don’t start anymore rumors around this little town. I can’t bear anymore rumors!”
He watched her as she left the room, walking quickly, wringing her hands in anxiety as she went, and wondered just how far she would go to keep a secret.
SEVENTEEN
Tilda spied the frumpy middle-aged woman waddling toward Jasper Collins’ vegetable stand and waved a hand to say hello. “Hey, Betty,” she called out cheerfully, and hurriedly looked over the homegrown goods in case Betty was after the same yellow crookneck squash that Tilda wanted for that evening’s dinner. By the time the maid reached the stand, Ms. MacArdan was handing some very nice looking vegetables to Jasper Junior with a few dollar bills and some change.
“Hey, Ms. Tilda. How you doing?” Betty studied the tomatoes, okra and ears of corn, and flicked open a brown paper produce sack with a quick snap.
“Fine, fine. How are things over at the Motleys?” Tilda watched Betty with wide eyed innocence, and observed that the maid’s lips tightened into a grimace seconds before she replied.
“About the same as always, I reckon. Mayor’s a good one to work for, considering.”
“And Maybellanne? She seems like a real sweet lady.”
Betty snorted and rolled her eyes.
Tilda commented with casual indifference, “But I guess everybody has bad days once in a while. Moods. Hard to get along with no matter what you do. ’Specially somebody you work for. Why, I remember once—”
Here Tilda’s snooping was rewarded. Betty snapped, “That Maybellanne Motley! Don’t know what’s got into her lately. Running me off all the time. Making me stop mixing the cake batter at the most crucial point, or stop washing the laundry right in the middle of the cycle! I declare, it’s like she doesn’t want me around! And then other times, well, I had better be exactly where she wants me to be, or else!”
“Bless your heart.” Tilda seasoned the comment with exactly the right amount of sympathy mingled with a prompt to continue.
“I worked my fingers off the other Friday night on that fancy soiree for the mayor’s supporters. It was a big shindig, let me tell you! The house all fancied up, spotless it was too, I cleaned and vacuumed and dusted all day long! Fresh cut flowers everywhere, right purty they were. And the food! I’m not bragging, you understand.”
Tilda murmured that she understood.
“But I really outdid myself! Mrs. Motley insisted on serving all those things that have such fancy names. Hors d’oeuvres, petit fours, canapés, those itty bitty sandwich things that rich people seem to like so good. Although I can’t tell you why. Ain’t no bigger than a minute. Have to eat a hundred of ’em to get filled up. And I stayed in the kitchen the whole night. The whole night, I tell you! Filling up tray after tray and making sure there was plenty of food to go around.”
“And Maybellanne still wasn’t happy.” Tilda MacArdan stated this fact while crossing her arms in disgust and tilting her head to one side.
“Well maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t. I never saw her, not once! That whole evening, not once! But I overheard her telling Officer Campbell just now that she spent twenty minutes in the kitchen Friday night helping me. Helping me! With the food! Making it sound like I can’t do my job without the assistance of Her Highness!” Betty shoved some vegetables into the brown sack and handed it to Jasper Junior. “I tell you what, if I hadn’t spent fifteen wonderful years working for the mayor’s good mother, I would not keep working for that uppity wife of his. I certainly would not!”
* * * * *
“Mr. Avery James.” Officer Campbell read the name out loud and fastened a piercing gaze upon the man sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, nervously fidgeting with his neck tie. “Now tell me again,” the policeman stated calmly, “how you managed to have this photograph of Mayor Motley in your possession.”
The nervous man unbuttoned his jacket and buttoned it back up again. “I told you. That picture was stuck on the back of that envelope. That’s how I got it!”
Campbell picked up the yellow envelope, balancing it between the fingers of his hands. It twirled slowly, temptingly. “This envelope that contained some unsavory information about one Avery James. Correct?”
James hung his dark head. Jittery fingers rubbed his white temples. “Yes. Yes! Aldric was blackmailing me. He told me to meet him at the mansion. He told me to bring money. I did what he said. He took the cash and tossed the envelope on the desk. I grabbed it and ran. After I left I found that picture stuck on the back of the envelope. The corner was hung under the flap. See? I accidently picked it up with the envelope!”
“Why meet at the MacGuffin Mansion? Why Sparrow Falls?”
“The Main Street is close to the highway. Aldric said the town is in an out of the way place, that nobody would follow me or look for me here. He said the house was abandoned, that there was no danger of anyone seeing us. He told me how to get in the side door and to come straight to the second room on the hall. When I got there Aldric was waiting for me.”
Campbell leaned forward. His chair creaked. “Alone?”
“Yes, alone!”
Campbell leaned back, grunting. “Odd that he knew his way around the house,” he mused as though talking to himself.
“Aldric said he used to know a kid who told him about the place. Years ago. Some kid who got into a lot of trouble and had to leave this little town.”
“Is that a fact?” The policeman’s eyes narrowed. He placed the envelope squarely on the desk between them. “An abandoned house, a town where nobody knows you. Nobody knows you’re meeting Victor Aldric there. Sounds like the perfect place to murder a blackmailer.”
“I didn’t do it!”
Officer Campbell withdrew something from a
drawer. He placed the object on the desk, put one thick finger on top of it, and slid it toward the anxious man.
“Recognize this wallet?”
Avery James gulped. Beads of sweat popped out on his pale forehead. He licked his lips but didn’t speak.
“It belonged to Victor Aldric. But it was found in your briefcase when we searched your hotel room a few minutes ago. Any idea how it got there, Mr. James?”
The man shook his head.
“Want to know what I think? I think you grabbed it from Aldric after you shot him. Grabbed him so the cash you’d just paid him couldn’t be traced to you.”
“No, no, I didn’t kill him!”
Officer Campbell ignored the panicked denial. “I think you murdered the man, stole the blackmailer’s information and used it to continue blackmailing his other victim. You simply took the first blackmailer’s place after you killed him, didn’t you?”
“No!” James cried. “I did try to blackmail the mayor. I admit that. After I heard Aldric was dead I took a good look at that picture. I realized it was a picture of the mayor, so I went to his house. His wife tried to bluff me. Said she knew all about the picture. But I figured it out! Figured she was the one trying to stop that picture from getting out. Figured that’s the reason Aldric wanted to meet me in Sparrow Falls.”
“And the wallet?”
“Aldric took the ten thousand dollars I brought. It was in an envelope. He turned his back for a minute to put it into his jacket pocket. The jacket was hanging on the chair. It was so hot in there. His wallet was on the corner of the desk. So I swiped it and took off before he turned around. I just wanted to get some money back, cause him a little trouble for a change. It served him right! But that’s all I did. That’s all!”
Campbell studied James’ face. He leaned forward, slightly, just enough to raise the tension in the room. “All you did before you pulled the trigger. What did you do with the gun, James?”