“Sure.”
One of the security guards undid the brakes on the wheelchair.
Rick pushed the wheelchair while the two men flanked us. Verity and I looked at each other as they hemmed us in. With a pang I realized that Rick was using Rio’s wheelchair for support. Sweat stained his blue button-down shirt in the soft May air. Rick breathed heavily as he pushed Rio over the bumpy, uneven ground.
“Are you going to the reception?” I asked.
“No, the doctors told us they’d let us out for just a little while.” Rio craned her neck to look back at us, her long black bangs falling into her eyes. She brushed them aside. “I have to say, you guys know how to dress for a funeral.”
We pulled up to a black van with LIFT ASSIST stenciled across the back.
“Yeah, you’re rocking the mourning thing. Oops, sorry,” Rick said to Rio’s look. “I always say the wrong thing. That’s what I get for having a big mouth.”
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “We are a bit over the top. Verity owns a vintage store and had to loan me something. I don’t have any black dresses.”
“I love vintage,” Rio said. “I’ll have to stop by your place, Verity.”
Verity grinned. “That would be great. So, you’re feeling better?”
Rio took a breath. “Yeah. You know, I just wanted to say how sorry I am about the whole thing. I don’t mean what happened to us, or Contessa or the mayor. Yeah, that’s all awful. I mean how your aunt got frozen out by YUM. We heard about the meeting with Stan Wilder.”
“I appreciate that.” I looked at Verity, mentally willing her not to say anything about Aunt Gully. I didn’t want to talk about her being questioned by police. “YUM’s a feel-good network, right? That’s what Stan said. There’s nothing feel-good about people getting poisoned.”
“It’s the weirdest thing,” Rio said. “Who’d want to poison four judges? I mean, we’re all so different.”
I jumped in. “The day of the lobster roll competition, did you notice anything strange?”
Rick shrugged. “We’ve done a lot of contests. This one ran like a top. Top-notch. It’s funny. I saw you that day. Your red hair stands out. You ran to the church door before your aunt came out.”
My stomach dropped. Great. He’d noticed the one thing that would tie me to the poisoning, that I now realized I hadn’t mentioned to Chief Brooks or Robo Detective.
“I remember you looked uncertain when you ate Kahuna’s roll,” I said.
Rio nodded. “The Godlobster looked great. But the stuff, monkshood? Bitter. Ugh. But we eat a lot of unusual foods, so we plowed ahead.”
“Who’d do such a thing? I still can’t believe it,” Verity said.
“Someone who wasn’t a fan, right, Rio?” Rio shook her head as Rick chuckled. “We’ve heard the theories. Maybe a psycho fan?”
That was one I hadn’t heard.
“I’ve only been in Mystic Bay twice,” Rick said. “Once the first time on our real estate scoping trip, when we went to the Mermaid, and then we came back for the judging. Before that, Rio hadn’t been here since, what? You were a kid working at some place called Scoops by the Bay.”
“Scoops by the Sea,” Rio said. “Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with us. Someone was making a point. Against the network. Or the town.”
“The police were looking into the lobster liberation movement,” I said.
Rick laughed. “Some crank who wants to save the lobsters does not a movement make.”
“Some people were upset about Ernie’s plan to widen Pearl Street so more tourists could get through town to Kahuna’s,” I said.
“That would help you, too,” Rick pointed out, as if reading my mind. “But poisoning a bunch of lobster rolls on TV in order to stop traffic? That’s really crazy.”
“Though it worked,” I said. “Kahuna’s is closed. The Lazy Mermaid’s closed.”
“Well, that’s because of the body. And the car in the water. And the sunken boat,” Verity said.
I groaned.
“A body at the Lazy Mermaid!” Rick and Rio glanced at each other.
“Not a body, an injured man,” I said, but Verity was on a roll.
“And Ernie Moss’s car was driven off a dock and we think he’s the one attacked at the Lazy Mermaid. And now they’re blaming Aunt Gully for the poisonings.”
Rio’s mouth made a red-painted O.
I threw a look at Verity. “The police are questioning Aunt Gully.”
“That’s terrible!” Rio gripped the handles of her chair so tightly her knuckles were white. “Is Aunt Gully okay?
“They have her locked up at the police station,” Verity said.
“No way! She wouldn’t hurt a soul. That’s it.” Rio straightened her back. “We’re going to the police station, Rick.”
“That’s really sweet—” I began.
“I’ve had bad stuff happen in my life. You have to face the bad stuff. And fight.” Her bony hands balled into fists. “Your aunt.” Rio coughed, then took a deep shuddering breath. “She’s one person I owe a lot to.”
“Small but mighty. That’s my Rio.” Rick kissed Rio’s hand.
Rio’s ashen skin and dark under-eye circles alarmed me.
“Um, shouldn’t you be getting back to the hospital?” Verity asked.
Rick shook his head. “Things were getting too crazy at the hospital. Come see us at the inn later. The doctors are letting us recuperate in a suite there with private nurses.”
“After we visit the police station,” Rio said.
“Aye, aye, captain.” Rick saluted, then signaled one of the security guards. He opened the back door of the van and lowered the lift. Rick kissed Rio’s cheek as the man made sure Rio’s chair was secure. As the lift raised Rio and the wheelchair, Rick said, “And away we go!”
Rio laughed, but my heart twisted. Poor Rio was in a wheelchair. It was torture for me to not be able to dance. To not be able to walk …
As the other man helped settle Rio in the van, Rick leaned tiredly against the door frame. “The doctors say that she’ll eventually regain her strength. But the”—he twisted his lips—“poison, God, I can barely say it! It hit her hard, because she’s just skin and bones to begin with.”
“Just like it hit Contessa hard.”
Rick nodded. “We’d better go. Do you need us to drop you anywhere?”
“No, thanks.” We started walking back to the Tank. My phone buzzed.
“Hi, Lorel.”
“Allie.” Lorel’s strained voice made me stop. “The police are looking for you.”
My stomach dropped. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth, Allie!” Lorel snapped. “That you’re with Verity. That you were going to the funeral. Bronwyn told me they’ve been questioning volunteers from the food fest and somebody mentioned you running into the church to find Aunt Gully. And it doesn’t look good because we kind of forgot to mention that when the police were at Gull’s Nest.”
“So much was happening, I just forgot. Because I didn’t do anything!”
Lorel sighed. “Honestly, I forgot, too.”
A Mystic Bay Police SUV threaded its way through the mourners streaming down Cemetery Lane from the Ancient Burying Ground. I couldn’t get pulled into the police station now. I had to find out who poisoned the rolls and clear Aunt Gully.
“I’ll call you back.” I pulled Verity back toward Rick and Rio’s van.
“Verity, we have to ditch the Tank. Rick! Can we still take you up on that ride?”
Chapter 31
Verity and I climbed into seats in the center of the van. She stifled a scream and fanned herself as I explained the situation.
“Why didn’t you mention to my uncle and that robot detective that you went into the church to find Aunt Gully?” she whispered.
“I totally forgot about it!” I glanced at Rick and Rio, who talked quietly behind us. “I was in the church building for maybe one minute.”
Ver
ity shook her head. “Now you look guilty. Even Rick noticed you going into the building.”
“Thanks a lot, Verity.” Then another thought struck me. “What if they want to talk to me about something else? What if it’s about Ernie Moss?”
“What would you have to do with Ernie Moss?” Verity’s eyes widened. “Maybe they want to know about that business with Megan and Chick at Edwards Inlet.”
“I may be the only one who knows about that. And besides, all I care about is proving Aunt Gully innocent. The police are totally barking up the wrong tree thinking she’s guilty. I’m going to talk to all the judges and all the contestants. I can’t waste time sitting in jail.”
Five minutes later, the van dropped us at the Jake. We said goodbye to Rick and Rio and scanned for police cars. None, not yet. We joined the mob of mourners jammed into the Jake’s ballroom overlooking the bay and huddled behind a pillar near the bar.
“Verity, what did you mean back there in the cemetery? You said something weird when you saw Juliet’s ugly bouquet.”
Verity shuddered. “That bouquet. Remember when I took that adult ed class on the Victorian language of flowers? How every flower meant something back then? In the Victorian language of flowers, that bouquet sent a message.”
I took two glasses of wine from a server’s tray and handed one to Verity, then snagged several mini crab cakes from another. Avoiding the cops was making me hungry.
“Orange lilies symbolize hatred. Palm branches mean victory,” she said. “It was like Juliet was carrying a sign saying I HATE YOU, CONTESSA. I WON.
“Well, people don’t call Juliet the Crazy Lady for nothing.” I scanned the room. With the police on my tail, I’d have to ask questions fast. Detective Rosato could march in and slap handcuffs on me at any second.
Mac Macallen tapped a microphone on a small dais. Behind him was a black-and-white glamour shot from one of Contessa’s films. Her face beamed over the crowd, her eyes shining with life force, intensity, and charisma. She commanded attention.
“What movie was that from?” I whispered.
“The Princess of Wall Street,” Verity breathed.
Chatter died down as Mac spoke. “Sadly, Juliet Wells was”—he hesitated—“overcome with emotion, understandably, so she’s unable to be with us this afternoon. I know we all were devastated—are devastated—by the sudden loss of one of our own, an artist of the highest caliber and standards.”
“His way of saying ‘don’t cross her,’” one actress near me whispered.
“A woman committed to her craft, her art,” Mac continued.
“She got me fired from Company,” another actor muttered.
“Let’s raise a toast to Contessa Wells. Her artistic legacy will shine on, kept alive in the hearts of her fans.” Mac raised his glass. “To Contessa!”
“Contessa!”
* * *
“Boy, when I kick the bucket, I want Mac to memorialize me. He made Contessa sound like a tap-dancing Mother Teresa.” I peeked around the pillar. “Okay. Operation Free Aunt Gully commences. I’ve got to talk to everyone who was at the lobster roll competition.”
“Who’s first?” Verity asked.
I jutted my chin toward the deck where Mayor Packer was holding forth.
“He looks better than Rick. Definitely better than Rio,” Verity whispered.
“Remember what Rick said. Size mattered. The big guys could withstand the poison better.” Still, Mayor Packer’d been affected. His tie didn’t look like it was choking him. I’d seen him at events before. He’d tell the servers to make their way back to him on a regular cycle. Now he held a glass of what looked like tonic water and leaned on a cane.
“You go ahead,” Verity said. “I’ll watch for the cops. And find more of those crab cakes.”
* * *
I sidled up to the group with the mayor and forced myself to nod as they talked about building codes and tax rates. Just as I was wondering how I’d get a word in, the mayor jovially waved off the crowd and took my arm.
“Allie, how’s your aunt coping with that business about the man in the shed?”
He led me to a table in a quiet corner of the patio.
“You’ve heard?” I said.
The mayor held up his phone. “Gotta stay plugged in with this job.”
I decided to say it. “Ernie.”
The mayor nodded. “Yes, it was Ernie Moss. Looks like he was in a fight, then hit his head on the edge of the tank. Lost a lot of blood. Touch and go.” He propped his cane against the wall and sat heavily in a chair. I sank into the seat next to him. It was Ernie.
“This darn monkshood makes you weak. It paralyzes the muscles.” Mayor Packer gestured toward his wife, who sat at the bar. “Bliss says it was a good weight-loss tool for me, but let me tell you, getting poisoned’s a hell of a way to lose weight.”
“Did you know that Aunt Gully was taken in for questioning about Contessa’s death?” I said.
Mayor Packer blinked. “Now that I didn’t know. That’s ridiculous. Those state police, Allie, they don’t know the folks here. I’ll give the police chief a call.”
“Thank you, Mayor.” I took a breath. “Do you have any idea who’s responsible for the poisoning?”
Mayor Packer looked over the bay. “Well, I had plenty of time to think in that hospital bed. But all I have are questions. Hard to believe anybody could do such terrible things. But people do bad things all the time, for their own reasons.
“Who would benefit if one of us died? Rick? Rio? They’re big stars. Maybe somebody had a beef? Jealousy? You know Rick and Rio are trying to get approval for a spa. I think it’s a great idea. Some folks were lobbying Rio to build it in Green Haven instead of here in Mystic Bay.”
He shrugged. “Contessa? Did her sister benefit by losing her financial and emotional support? Or was there jealousy from another star? Did someone want her role in Mame?”
He took a sip of his tonic. “Who’d benefit if the YUM Network show didn’t air? Who’d benefit if YUM looked bad? Who’d benefit if lobster shacks closed? A conspiracy. I heard there were some of those ‘save the lobster’ signs on the Mermaid and Kahuna’s?”
“And Aunt Gully got threatening letters from lobster libbers,” I said.
“You see?”
It seemed so long ago that we got the letters and I found that sign. I thought it was ridiculous. But it was the beginning of this whole terrible mess.
“All I know is”—he raised his glass—“I’m glad to be alive.”
“Thanks, Mayor.” As I crossed the gleaming wooden floor, I remembered one thing he hadn’t mentioned: Ernie Moss trying to change his mind about the new traffic pattern for Pearl Street.
* * *
I also hadn’t thought that anyone could be trying to kill Contessa. I sidled up to Mac Macallen.
“Allegra Larkin!” He kissed my cheeks. “My favorite dancer. How’s the ankle?”
“Getting better.”
“I’d love to bring more dance companies here to the Jake. I’m hoping your company will come next season.”
“I’d love that!”
“It’s so great to see you. Even under such unfortunate circumstances.” Mac grimaced. “Just a short time from opening night on Mame. Good thing our understudy’s fantastic. Kate Kimmel.” He nodded toward an elegant blonde in a navy blue sheath dress, surrounded by several Broadway by the Bay actors. “Kate’s been in California for a week dealing with family stuff. Her mom had a stroke. She just got back last night.”
That meant she wasn’t here for the lobster roll contest and couldn’t be responsible for the poisoning.
“Even though she’s a less well-known name, with all the publicity from the, er, tragic events, we’re sold out,” Mac said. “We might even have to add shows.”
“Did other actresses try out for the part?” I asked.
“No. We wanted Contessa. She’d reached out to me a couple of years ago. Said she wanted to spend some time a
t the old family home. Said it would be good for her sister. Her sister needs a lot of care. Contessa was a good sister to Juliet. God knows it couldn’t have been easy.”
* * *
Bliss Packer leaned against the bar. The bartender slowly poured bourbon into her glass. She rattled her ice cubes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just top it up,” she said.
“Hi, Mrs. Packer.”
“Oh, hi, Lorelei, right?”
“Allie.”
“That’s right, the dancer. Call me Bliss. ‘Mrs. Packer’ makes me feel like my mother-in-law.” She grimaced and took a sip.
“How’s the, er, mayor doing?”
Bliss Packer waved her glass toward the patio where the mayor was again surrounded by a group. “He always bounces back. Not that it was easy. I wouldn’t say it was touch and go. But this stuff, monkshood? Sounds like something out of one of Contessa’s horror movies, doesn’t it?” She drank. “I just hope they get the bastard who did it.”
I guess she didn’t know about the police questioning Aunt Gully. “Me, too. Um, do you have any ideas about who might’ve done it?”
“What do I look like, Miss Marple?” She finished her drink in one gulp and again shook the ice cubes in the now empty glass at the bartender. He refilled her glass.
“But I have my ideas.” She scanned the crowd, her lips pressed together.
“I heard Ernie Moss—”
Bliss Packer wheeled toward me. “What’ve you heard?”
I stepped back, but I guess she didn’t expect me to say anything. “Ernie Moss thinks he’s some kind of great businessman. He owns a smelly lobster shack, for God’s sake.”
My back stiffened. Bliss must be too drunk to remember that my family owned a lobster shack, too.
“Ernie thinks that makes him a person of importance.” Heads turned as her voice rose. “Like he can give orders to my husband, the mayor. I have no doubt that he’s behind this business. Oh, his wife can boo-hoo and fall to pieces about her Ernie’s lobster roll having poison in it. Well, Ernie would’ve danced a hula if my husband died instead of Contessa Wells. Oh, he had a motive, all right. Ernie’s been trying to influence the board of selectmen to vote his way. My husband stands between him and his blessed highway to Kahuna’s.”
Curses, Boiled Again! Page 16