by Ritter Ames
Meg smiled. "Good thinking. Saying something along those lines worries most mothers-in-law. Even if the idea is just to label you as a kleptomaniac."
"You don't suppose this is nothing more than a case of pinning the blame on the outsider, do you?"
"You're not the only non-Nethercutt-relation involved. Think of Mrs. Baxt—"
"But I am the only Hazelton outsider," she stressed, waving away the rebuttal Meg started. "I know, I know. Being married to a McKenzie gives me status, but face it: folks in Hazelton don't just sweep you into the fold. Even with Keith or his parents always around to make introductions, I've felt the restraint. I'm not complaining. Everyone's been welcoming to me, but it's still something to consider. If I stood before a Hazelton jury, they couldn't say for sure what I 'could or would do.' I'm an unknown quantity."
Meg shrugged. "True, the other players in Saturday's meeting are either native to Hazelton or have been associated with the town a decade or more. It doesn't explain Danny, though. He seems to want to implicate everyone indiscriminately. Did you ask Jane about him?"
"No, I'm going to try to squeeze what I need from Tiffany instead." Kate took a cautious sip. "She ought to be able to more readily describe his behavior away from the family. Nothing like the school setting to reveal a person's real character."
"But Tiffany goes to Hazelton High," Meg replied. "Surely Danny is in one of the nearby prep schools."
Kate shook her head. "He wore a class ring the first time I met him. It was Hazelton's."
"Interesting." Meg picked up the pen. "It was already a shock when I found out Tiffany wasn't in private school, but there's no way I would presume Danny a public high student."
"Unless his dad's financial straits are too stretched to accommodate expensive tuition rates," Kate suggested.
"Or the kid's been kicked out of the better ones already," Meg returned.
Something to consider. Kate bit her lip as she speculated on what transgressions warranted expulsion. "Mrs. Baxter did say she and Amelia thought Danny used drugs."
"A tried and true way to receive the scholastic heave-ho. Most of the elite schools boast such a long waiting list that without legacy status or a big donation they don't have to tolerate negative activity from students. And from what Sophia said, we can assume Bill lacks the cash to provide a cushion for bad behavior on his son's part." Meg stood and grabbed the cookie jar from the counter. "Got any chocolate in here?"
Kate retrieved a couple of Milky Ways from the back of the refrigerator. "You're in luck. The girls didn't find these."
Her all-time favorite, Kate savored the sharp crunch as the first bite snapped the cold chocolate coating, the creamier center waking her taste buds. As they munched, she related what she'd learned from Jane, while savoring the rich caramel that clung to her teeth. Her mouth watered each time a word made her tongue brush a cache of rich goodness. "Call me crazy." She licked a chocolaty fingertip. "But, I'm more paranoid after learning Miss Amelia and Charles Webster Walker were once married. He seemed kind of pushy about us taking the inventory job."
"There's no 'seemed' about it," Meg said. "He definitely wanted you working on those collections. But he's long been known for taking care of his clients, and I'm sure your very outsider-status was a lure."
"I guess I see your point. No one in the Nethercutt clan acts like they can be trusted."
"Once he'd set his mind to hiring you, and given the limiting condition of the will, he pretty much had to take any bid you offered," Meg continued. "I understand your creeped-out feelings, but time is truly the relevant issue here, and you're qualified and already on the spot. It's hard to put old Charlie-boy, Esquire and young Amelia together, but it makes sense. I remember he ran for mayor years ago, and the papers said he was once married to a socialite."
"Didn't he ever marry again?"
"Nope." Meg popped the last bite of candy into her mouth. "He's such a strange duck, always pleasant to everyone but different. I never could see him married at all."
"Did he win the race?"
Meg shook her head. "He got beat by an ordinary housewife, Myra Robbins, whose only claim to previous office was PTA president."
"I've met her," Kate said. "She's Eileen the receptionist’s mom. She was at the station one day when I met Keith for lunch."
"Yeah, nice lady. Once people found out she was running, she had no trouble getting the votes to win. Served two very successful terms. Unexpectedly got pregnant with Eileen and retired. Her other kids are much older, both boys. They graduated ahead of me."
"Did he ever run again?"
"Nope. The closest thing he came to political life afterward was when the community theater did a revival of 'Mr. Smith Goes to Washington' and he played understudy to the Jimmy Stewart role."
"Funny how Amelia married two men who liked theatre."
"Just goes to show we all have our types."
Kate pulled out the pad she'd scribbled her notes on. "Speaking of types, I keep coming back to something Jane said. How Thomas seems to always want someone else to tell him what to do. If Jane felt this way, wouldn't his family tweak on that, too? Could someone coerce Thomas into killing his mother?"
"And then plant the stolen objects on you?"
"You might think I'm crazy, but no," Kate said. "I don't understand the motive, other than to keep me as a reserve suspect. I mean, if someone really wanted the items to get me into trouble, the police would have received an anonymous tip or something. But I'm being set up now to use if needed later…"
"Mmm...I hadn't thought about that. Yes, you should have heard something from them by now." Meg twisted the pad her way. "Don't forget to transfer these notes into your casebook. I'd hate for one of us to misplace information at this point."
"I will. My conversation with Jane ended in a hurry last night when my family came home, and with getting the girls off to school and all I haven't had time this morning to transcribe everything."
"Plus, you needed to add those embellishments to the contract." Meg giggled.
"Don't start laughing again," Kate warned, smiling. "We still have lots to do before we meet Valerie." She took the empty cups to the sink then headed upstairs for the attic. By the time she found the correct storage box, Meg had joined her.
"It's too neat up here," her neighbor complained. "I'm never letting you into our attic."
Smiling, Kate withdrew a set of blue and gray baby monitors. "Don't be hard on yourself. I've only been here six months. You've lived in your house nine years. Besides, it's my job to keep things organized. People watch gleefully, waiting to catch me in a slip up. It can be exhausting."
"Makes absolutely no difference, but thanks for trying to make me feel better. What are those for?"
As Kate held up one of the plastic monitors, the plug at the end of the cord swung out and slapped her knee, destroying an idea she'd had only moments before. "Nothing. I forgot the source unit needs electricity. Darn. I thought they'd make a good audio alarm for the van."
"Oh, I get it." Meg grabbed up the plug. "Leave the microphoned-end in the van and use the receiver in the house to hear if anyone breaks in and leaves treasure behind."
"Yes, but there's no DC adapter. I'll have to think of something else."
"We have walkie-talkies at my house," Meg offered. "They probably need batteries, but the boys were using them a couple of days ago so they aren't broken yet."
"But the mike needs to be keyed—"
"Duct tape or rubber bands."
"You're a genius!"
Meg grinned. "Ain't I though? But it isn't any fresh epiphany. Don't you dare tell the boys, but I've used the trick before when they were up to something and I needed to find out what. Everything comes through loud and clear."
"I guess I'm lucky I have girls."
Meg's grin turned wicked. "Wait a few years. There'll be plenty of secrets to ferret out in the not too distant future, my friend."
"Don't remind me. Just help me rig t
he camcorder."
*
They arrived at the mansion ahead of Valerie, despite having to go by the lawyer's office for a front door key. Meg stayed back to set the walkie-talkie alarm, while Kate grabbed the laptop computer and video case and headed inside.
The house felt decidedly empty. It seemed too unreal to think the inhabitants, a rich eccentric couple scouting out Georgetown antiquities less than a month ago, were both dead. With death and murder hanging in the air, Kate had the constant urge to check over her shoulder.
She made her way into the parlor, where they'd decided the night before to start the inventorying. By the time Meg joined her, Kate narrowed down one corner as having the best overall scope for the cinematic enterprise.
"Are you going to camouflage the camera, or let Valerie know we're taping each day?"
Kate set the video camera on a tabletop, and punched the red button to start recording. "I doubt we have a choice. It uses tape and only records for a couple of hours, not like the newer digital machines. Even if we hide it, I don't think I can possibly change out the cassette three or four times a day and not get caught."
"You're right." Meg pivoted to take in the room. "But truthfully, I can't see it doing much good. With just one stationary camera there are too many places to get out of the lens' sight and scoop something into a pocket."
"Very true," Kate plopped into a tall Queen Anne chair. "Besides, Valerie isn't the one framing me. She's merely Sophia's spy. But what can we do? Even with another camera, we'll never catch our culprit unless we tape twenty-four hours a day."
"I've got an idea. Where's your cell? Ben tried to use mine as a tub toy last night, so it's still covered in rice to try to save it."
"Yikes." Kate grimaced and passed her phone. "Who are you going to call?"
Meg punched in the numbers and held up a finger. "Yes, Gil Berman, please. This is his wife." During the wait, she explained, "My dear hubby has a friend in the surveillance trade. Don't ask any questions, because I have no answers, but he may be able to help us with this little dilemma."
As she greeted Gil over the phone, the front door opened. "Hi, honey, hang on a second while I go to another room." Meg passed Valerie in the doorway.
"Where's she going?" The decorator arrived dressed exactly as before, looking more ready for a shopping safari than an afternoon picking through musty collectibles.
"Needs to talk to her husband." Kate pulled the computer case onto the coffee table and removed the laptop.
"I hope you don't expect me to do any typing." Valerie anchored a scarlet-taloned hand on one hip.
She smiled and shook her head. "No, I'd planned on bribing Meg for that."
"She types?"
"Yes, and quite quickly, I understand. It's how she and Gil met, through her typing for the newspaper. Even if she's a little rusty she should do much better than you or me."
"I didn't mean I can't type."
"I knew exactly what you meant." Kate plugged in the power cord and booted up the machine, then innocently asked, "And how was Sophia?"
"Fine, she—" Valerie glared. "How did you know I was meeting with her?"
This woman is Sophia's secret weapon? Kate wanted to laugh, but kept her smile steady. "I'm really not sure. Guess I just assumed, what with you decorating her house and all."
The explanation was apparently rational enough for "the mole."
"Yes." Valerie seated herself regally on the Chinese silk settee. "Their master suite is turning out superb. Sophia said I'll be getting scads more referrals once all her friends tour the rooms."
"That's nice."
"What is?" Meg asked, reentering and sliding the cell phone back into the open pocket of Kate's purse.
"My design work for Sophia," Valerie answered.
Kate wasn't sure how long she could take this conversation and decided to rein it in. "Well, we have work to do, ladies. Meg, would you do the typing honors, or should we write everything on pads and take turns adding the inventory into the computer?"
Meg shrugged. "Typing is fine with me. You want it in word processing or a spreadsheet?"
Unable to resist, Kate turned to Valerie. "Which do you think would be best?"
The decorator's red lips opened and closed several times, until she finally said, "Whatever the two of you prefer. I'm the hired help, after all."
"Nonsense." Kate watched Meg's shoulders wiggle in silent laughter as she bent over the keyboard. "We value your input."
"Honestly, it's up to you," Valerie said.
"Okay, I guess a spreadsheet might give us more sorting options. And Meg, if you could code one of the columns to put in each of our names as you add items, we'll be able to track later who inspected and inventoried what objects in case the insurance company needs confirmation. We need to add dates, too."
"Will do," Meg answered, face hidden by her curls. She hit a couple of keys. "Pick your posts, and we can start."
They started, all right, Kate almost jumping out of her shoes when a back door slammed shut.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Organization When Things Don't Go As Planned
1) Stay calm. Anger creates negativity and wastes resources. Focus on something you can accomplish.
2) Don't complain. Regroup to see what can be salvaged or modified. Time is precious—don't waste it griping.
3) Have a back-up plan. Sometimes, patience is the only option; consider alternatives, like people and resources not normally used.
4) Schedule in some extra time for unplanned emergencies. Pad your schedule with small blocks of minutes to accommodate unexpected disasters.
5) Determine what CAN get done. Don't let a schedule paralyze you. When something cannot be completed as planned, skip that task and move on—don't let the day be a total washout.
*
Meg, Valerie and Kate raced across the marbled hall floor and almost slid when they reached the ceramic kitchen tile. They picked up speed as they exited the back door. One carriage-styled garage door stood ajar, the dark depths taunting them to enter. Meg and Valerie headed that way at a full run.
Kate snatched desperately, fingers catching Meg's sleeve and plucking the soft back of Valerie's vest. "Wait! We don't know what's in there!"
The pair slowed then stopped, exchanging embarrassed looks.
"I guess that was kind of dumb," Meg said, her color high.
"Fools rush in." Valerie shrugged, before throwing a furtive glance over her shoulder.
This could be dangerous. Kate raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad you said it. Would hate to think I'm the only one thinking this through. Let's return to the parlor and get a cell phone before we traipse around places that could be hiding someone. And can we please all stay together?"
Valerie pulled an iPhone from a hidden vest pocket. "I have mine right here."
"Good. Keep it handy." Meg set off again toward the garage, waving them to join her.
"We aren't really going inside." Kate kept her feet planted on the flagstone walk. No way was she walking into a potential ambush. "The fact we don't see anyone suggests that if someone did slam that door it was to escape our sight."
"Of course we're not going inside." Meg turned, hands on hips. "We'll just open one of the doors wide to allow enough light for us to peek through the windows."
Jeez! It's like we're in the middle of a Lucy and Ethel escapade. Pointing toward the two forested acres behind the estate, Kate said, "By now, any intruder with half a brain is already across those woods and cutting through the nearest neighbor's place. We can't even be sure there was an intruder at all, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to play Batgirl to your Wonder Woman either."
"Who am I?" Valerie asked.
"What?" Kate and Meg asked together.
"Who am I?" Valerie repeated. She pointed at Kate. "If you're Batgirl…" She turned her finger on Meg. "…and you're Wonder Woman, then who am I?"
"Very annoying," Meg snapped. "I can't believe you. Of all the juven—"
<
br /> "Wait a minute, I—" Valerie started
Kate held up a hand. "Stop, both of you! I was being sarcastic, not giving out complimentary nicknames. I was just—"
"Demonstrating yet again how you two band together," Valerie cut her off. "I understand. Let's move on. They're likely long gone, like you said." She turned on her heel and headed for the garage, radiating her irritation like an aura.
Replicating turn-of-the-century design, each bay to the three-car garage was side-hinged and latched in the middle. After Valerie heaved the ajar door fully open, the trio took positions at the sides, peering into the cavernous interior. Kate wiped damp palms down her slacks, and shifted a step to better see inside. Automotive tools hung from a pegboard along the back wall, but nothing was labeled to point up anything missing or being readied by some mysterious marauder to strike one or more of the women. A dark blue MG, likely Danny's, was the only car in view, but the vehicle stood on a hydraulic lift, leaving little means for hiding anyone. A couple of large multi-drawer tool chests could have shielded a person from view, but by looking in various windows the women determined no one crouched behind either one.
"So, did someone run in here or not?" Meg asked.
"I'd guess not." Kate's heart pounded in her ears.
Waving at a walk-through door in the east wall, Valerie said, "Or the person shot out that side door and is long gone, hidden by the trees."
"Well, we've already gone this far." Meg took off walking around the building. "I say we check out the rest of the area as best we can."
The backyard resembled a still life in green, although none of the flowers had yet bloomed, a set of filigreed steel furniture and one whimsically-sculptured cupid fountain added interest to the scene. Everyone stayed well away from the forest. The thick glass of the greenhouse, like individual viewfinders to the unique beauty inside, offered a careful scrutiny through the windows. The sudden fall of a rake made the women leap in surprise, then freeze, waiting for a new danger. Nothing else happened. No one was there.