Organized for Murder

by Ritter Ames

  2) Keep food coupons in an envelope in the glove compartment. This way, they aren't sitting at home when you're at the restaurant.

  3) Check flashlight batteries periodically to make sure you'll not be "in the dark" if you need light "on the road." In cooler months, keep an extra pack of batteries in the glove box—they'll stay fresh in low temps—but take them out during hot weather.

  *

  "Valerie? You're kidding, right?" Meg cried, almost running off the road in her surprise. She pulled onto the soft shoulder, in front of a white farmhouse advertising eggs for sale, and stared at Kate, incredulous.

  "I don't have any specific idea to suggest, but Sophia never flipped all the right switches when I've deliberated over who planted the stolen items in my house and vehicle."

  "Still, do you actually believe Valerie—"

  "I don't know." Kate repeated, shaking her head as she tried to piece together her thoughts. "I must have gotten the idea from somewhere, but I can't figure out what makes me think it's a possibility. Regardless, I don't believe Sophia was the thief. I realize Ursula said the thief had a cultured voice, but really, most anyone can fake one for a telephone call. However, Valerie could have come by my house and planted the box that night, with Tiffany not even thinking about telling me her mom stopped by. The twins wouldn't see Valerie as a stranger, and I still need to talk to Louie—"

  "Or Tiffany hid the box at her mom's request." Meg tapped the steering wheel with her index fingers and stared out the windshield. "As crazy as the idea sounded at first, it makes a scary kind of sense. No one could be more eager to be involved in this inventorying enterprise. We always assumed Sophia recruited her, but what if it actually happened the other way around? Remember, too, how she insisted on riding with us to Sophia's. What if she killed Sophia earlier, sent herself the text from Sophia's phone, and came back to work to establish an alibi for when the body was found? I didn't hear a ping, did you? Who's to say the message wasn't already on her phone, and she just waited for the perfect opportunity to 'discover' the summons?"

  "Yes, and we only have Valerie's word she'd never been in the Nethercutt mansion before going to work with us," Kate mused. "She was livid that I got the organizing job. But could she really be the thief? Let Amelia spot the stuff in the antique shop so quickly?"

  "Maybe she got sloppy right away and put the stuff in a resale place too close to Hazelton. After all, Ursula told us she'd just been contacted by 'Ms. Wilson' last week, and the merchandise arrived yesterday. Or maybe Amelia decided to go a bit farther afield to find new things to buy. If the Nethercutts traveled the world for the junk they bought, surely Amelia had hit all the antique shops in southwestern Vermont. It's all speculation until we discover which shop she stumbled into that was selling her stuff," Meg said, shrugging. "As far as getting into the mansion, we don't know how long our favorite decorator worked at Sophia's place. Who's to say she didn't tag along on trips to step-mummy's house?"

  Kate thought back to the day of Amelia's murder. She had always assumed Sophia arrived alone and remembered driving around the silver-blue BMW convertible to circle out of the mansion's cobblestone driveway. The Beemer two-seater had been empty of any passenger, Kate was sure, and said so. "Not the day Amelia died. Even if Valerie ducked down in the car to hide as I drove by, I would have seen her."

  "But she would have been able to slip into the mansion after Sophia did, right?" Meg prompted. "Didn't you say you went to the kitchen almost as soon as Sophia arrived? Valerie could have entered while you were out of sight."

  "Yes…"

  "Amelia had no butler or maid to keep an eye on the front door. Our Miss James could walk in without ringing the doorbell, and you would have never known she was in the house." Meg's eyes gleamed as she stacked damning possibility onto damning possibility.

  "Why would Sophia not mention Valerie was with her? Johnson would have made sure to interview her with everyone else."

  "Maybe Sophia did tell him. Or maybe Johnson skipped talking to Val."

  Kate shook her head. She clearly remembered the day they discovered the mask's disappearance from the conservatory wall, then shivered when her thoughts shifted to where it had turned up yesterday. "No, the first time they met was the day Jefferson reported the mask stolen. The look on Johnson's face said she was just a new person to interview and an unrecognizable one to boot. Forget I said anything. The police checked our phones. If she killed Sophia and tried to manufacture an alibi, Johnson could prove she received the call long before joining us."

  "But it was such a good scenario—"

  "Nope." Kate waved the idea away like the perfume sample cloud that always hovered in mall department stores. "My imagination was getting the better of me."

  "All our best laid plans." Meg sighed, then brightened. "Hey, the cameras. We'll get Meeks to let us scan the tapes."

  "I thought everything went to digital files."

  "Whatever." Meg turned the ignition. "I'll call Meeks when we get home." She tapped the car's clock. Two-eighteen. "We'd better make tracks if we're going to make it to Hazelton in time to pick up our little darlings at school. Are you all set for tonight?"

  "Oh, yeah, no problem. Tiffany's coming at six-thirty, so—"

  "Tiffany!"

  Kate looked at Meg. "Well, yeah. Since you and Jane are going to be at the store to give me moral support, I called Tiffany and asked her to babysit."

  "Do you think that's a good idea? I mean even if the Valerie angle is nothing more than creative brainstorming, we can't overlook a possibility—"

  "Oh, for heaven's sake." Kate laughed. "Talking it out made me see how ridiculous the suggestion is. I'm forcing things to fit, nothing more. Valerie not only had to be at Amelia's on the day of the murder, but she'd also have to avoid Danny, his dad and uncle, and Mrs. Baxter—Oh, why didn't I think of it before?"

  In duet, they cried, "Mrs. Baxter's the thief!"

  "She had to be." Meg's curls danced as she nodded. "She was on the spot and had ample opportunity to steal the items. Besides, from what you told me she said during your visit, the woman vacillated between some strange friend/enemy, sympathetic/jealousy mood swings on an almost constant basis."

  "A definite possibility. Twist the right emotion, and she probably decided Amelia had enjoyed the good life long enough, and she was sick of accepting the leftovers."

  "Or she found out Amelia knew about the thefts and killed to save her job. No, that won't work. Valerie said Sophia fired Mrs. Baxter, and the cook went to live with her brother."

  "What?"

  As she signaled to turn left, Meg grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. You're going to fire me as your investigative partner, huh? Valerie told me yesterday morning before her temper tantrum. You were getting a glass of water."

  "So where did Mrs. Baxter go?" Kate asked.

  Meg shrugged. "That's what I asked Valerie, but she wasn't sure. Said Mrs. B. didn't have any relatives around here anymore, and headed out of state to a brother in Texas or Wyoming. Some place cowboy-ie anyway. Apparently, she had a hissy at Sophia about having to leave, too. Valerie said Mrs. B. told Sophia she 'expected better out of Mr. Daniel's daughter' and 'Miss Amelia will spin in her grave at your turning me out into the cold.'"

  Too much to process. A stress headache was coming on, something Kate didn't need before speaking to a crowd she hoped would become customers. She rummaged in her purse for the small aspirin bottle.

  Three of their kids stood together on the sidewalk around the school's circle drive.

  "Where's Mark?" Kate asked.

  "Little League," Meg replied. "That's why I didn't take us on home to get your van. With one less kid, the car has enough seatbelts for everyone."

  Meg couldn't stand the game of baseball—"Un-American, I know," she'd told Kate a month ago—so it was up to Gil Berman to support his eldest son and provide transport home after practice and games.

  "It's great the paper gives Gil the flexibility to carve out the
hours he needs to do this with Mark," Kate said.

  "Uh-huh," Meg agreed. "And Mark really likes having time when his dad is devoted to him, alone. At the house, it's always the three of them playing catch or working on the boys' batting. On practice and game days, though, Mark has his dad's attention completely focused on him. We aren't dealing with as many stubborn fits anymore, and his grades have even improved. I wish we'd thought of this long ago."

  "I guess the boys are pretty competitive," Kate reflected. "I've noticed tension growing between the girls, too. Maybe Keith and I need to do some talking and come up with some ideas. We try to give each of them full latitude in creating their own identities, but with both twins on the same teams and going to all the same events, maybe their fighting is actually related to wanting their own space and more individual time with each of us."

  As she said this Jeremy Hendricks walked by and said something Sam responded to with a smile and nod. A second later, Suze slammed a schoolbook across the back of her sister's head and Sam responded with a punch in the shoulder. A teacher separated the pair by the time Kate managed to jump from the car and get to them. Obviously, Suze's crush on Jeremy Hendricks remained in full force.

  *

  Tiffany arrived late for babysitting. Her mother hadn't been home, and the teen had to walk the few blocks. She wasn't as effervescent as usual, and Kate wondered what the personality switch signaled. One last round of orders to the twins and a reminder to do everything Tiffany said, then Kate ran over to get Meg. Gil was in the kitchen helping the boys finish off leftovers.

  "Did you call Meeks? Can we take a look at the pictures?" Kate asked.

  Meg shook her head. They stepped back into the cooler evening temperatures, and Kate was glad she wore a wool blazer. She put her hands in the pockets.

  "The police already confiscated all his equipment related to the mansion. He did remember seeing, as he put it, 'a stout little lady puttering around the place that first night,' and is going to figure a way to make the police aware of our suspicions. Unless Valerie saw the box while we inventoried the parlor."

  "Oh, stop." Kate backed carefully out of the driveway. "I told you my idea was seriously nutty. I'm sure it's nothing more than a subconscious desire to see her jailed for at least one night."

  "Like an adult timeout for annoying the people who have to associate with her." Meg laughed.

  "Someday when we rule the world…" Kate smiled as she flipped on the headlights. "No, more likely, Mrs. Baxter knew we'd started in the parlor, and after we had it inventoried, figured anything she took from in there wouldn't soon be missed. She looked in all the nooks and crannies and found the box."

  "Well, that makes sense, too," Meg conceded.

  Kate grinned. "Thank you. Sometimes I am able to look at things without seeing how I can implicate someone I don't like."

  "I didn't mean—"

  "I know." Kate laughed. "I know."

  For the first time that day, Kate realized she was actually getting into a good mood. She'd been on edge all the time lately and worried what would pop up from around the next corner. Definitely within reason, to be sure, but exhausting nonetheless. Just laughing with Meg like this, though their conversation still revolved around the mess she had innocently landed in, was the release she needed. She wasn't even as nervous about speaking at the workshop anymore. Nervous, but not so nervous.

  "Did you get any information from Tiffany?"

  She turned onto Main Street. "There wasn't time, but she seems preoccupied. Probably upcoming finals or boyfriend issues. She does have a new job at the ice cream place, and with her hours running Friday through Sunday, it can't help but put a crimp in her social life."

  "Or she could have issues with her mom," Meg suggested, stopping Kate's retort by holding up a hand. "Don't say it. I'm simply stating the obvious again."

  She recognized Meg was just needling, but her friend's words caused a shadow of apprehension to rise higher in her mind. As she pulled into the alley behind the Book Nook and parked her van next to the bookseller's lime green VW, Meg added, "Gil came home with information on Bill Nethercutt. Seems the scoop around the paper is Bill teeters on the verge of filing for bankruptcy, but he left Charlie-boy's office this morning sporting a huge smile."

  "What did Gil and his newspaper cronies conclude from those facts?"

  "Their cynical little minds decided that despite the postponement of the reading of Amelia's will, out of professional courtesy to Bill, C.W.W. spilled the beans regarding how the estate would be distributed. If true, information on what he stands to inherit would allow Bill to negotiate or renegotiate loans helping his business interests stay solvent. Naturally, such could be a relevant point in the police investigation. If you'll recall, old Charlie-boy said the will Amelia did not get a chance to sign had been changed to affect the timetable of the probate. Want to toss around theories about whether Bill killed her to keep the change from happening?"

  "I think we've hypothesized enough today, but if you want my opinion, it doesn't work unless we assume he'd been planning to kill Amelia anyway."

  "Hey, this is all supposition," Meg replied. "But let's face it, there didn't seem any love lost between Miss Amelia and the next generation. They thought she was tight and possibly hastened the death of Mr. Daniel, something to infuriate Bill and Sophia. Then there are the facts and innuendo we can apply to Thomas's father and his death. As quiet as Tommy-boy is, who knows how far down his emotions sit."

  "But Joey's death was decades ago."

  Meg responded with platitudes. "Still waters run deep, and revenge is a dish best served cold. There's a reason for clichés. They've encapsulated true situations too many times. The quiet ones are often those who let a hurt fester unchecked until an explosion erupts. And besides, he may have only recently learned what happened."

  "If he knew anything at all," Kate mused. Before Meg could argue, she raised a hand. "We have nothing to prove whether or not he's ever been let into the loop over this bombshell. And I guess sibling rivalry would take care of the motive for Sophia's murder. But I like Mrs. B. for the thief. If only we knew for sure she left town and when, to determine whether she could have killed Sophia."

  "I'll tell Gil to sniff around and see if he can learn anything." Meg opened her door. "In the meantime, come on. I'll help carry your stuff."

  Inside, Saree had pulled out all of the stops for what Kate now called her Organizing Connection, hoping to connect with people who wanted her to personally organize their lives. Finger snacks and goodies tempted patrons from tables around the shop, along with three-by-five index cards for attendees to write questions and particular problems they wanted Kate to address. Saree and her helpers had rolled the middle bookcases closer to the perimeter walls to provide an expansive central meeting area for Kate to hold court, while displaying related books the shop had available for sale. Also in place stood a tri-legged display stand to hold the large informational charts Kate had worked on for months.

  They finished lugging in the visual aids and handouts. Jane was already in the store. A second later, Saree swept close in a swirl of fire-tones and handed Kate a small, silver wand resembling a ballpoint pen. "Here, for you."

  It was a laser pointer. Kate directed its dancing green light-dot toward the top poster board, which read Time To Spring Into an Organized Home and Office in large type, with a smaller Kate McKenzie, Stacked In Your Favor, L.L.C. printed in a smaller, but still highly visible font. "Saree, this is wonderful. Thank you. Don't let me forget to give it back to you before I leave."

  "No, no." Saree waved. "'Tis for you." She smiled. "I dream many more nights like this one. Look—" She swept a hand toward the audience. "House almost full already."

  One of the Book Nook's college-aged store assistants, Anna, a Nordic beauty with almost platinum waist-length hair, manned the register, but Saree took a seat in the back in case she needed to help. Before Kate began, Meg sidled up and pointed to the laser pointer, warnin
g, "Make sure the girls don't get hold of this. Gil bought one a couple of years ago. Mark swiped it when we weren't looking and decided it would make a nifty light saber. Next thing I knew we were rushing Ben to the emergency room with excruciating eye pain, and left with him looking like a little pirate wearing a patch for a burned retina. The ophthalmologist warned us we'd gotten off lucky. You wouldn't believe how fast you can blind someone using one of those."

  "Eek!" Kate stared at the innocent looking silver object and vowed to lock it away in her office.

  Several dozen chairs were already filled, mostly by women, but Kate was surprised to see Bill Nethercutt seated in the back. After returning his smile, she took a moment to ponder why he would show up at a Thursday evening presentation like this one. Especially with his sister recently murdered.

  There were two married couples. The younger duo looked like real do-it-yourselfers dressed in flannel and Carhartts. Kate figured after her speech they would head straight home and tear into their closet, putting up customized shelves and racks to maximize space. The other couple, at or near retirement age, reminded her of a pair of birds: the wife a brown wren, busily twisting to talk to everyone, and husband a stalwart hawk, arms crossed, eyes sharp, waiting to get whatever he came for. A few more people drifted in and took seats. Kate greeted those she knew, and Saree scurried to bring extra chairs. The last to arrive was Gabriella Cavannah-Wicker.

  Nervously, Kate shuffled through the question cards the early arrivals had filled out. Many were alike. As different as every American household was, most shared the same clutter dilemmas. She fingered through the posters on the stand, peeking to be certain they were in the right order.

  Everything ready and everyone waiting, she couldn't put off the presentation any longer.

  "Hello, it's nice to see such a big crowd here tonight. I'm Kate McKenzie, and I'm an organizational expert."

  A spate of welcoming applause spread across the audience. Once it died down, she launched into her performance by slipping the top poster off the stack to reveal her Five-Step Organization Start Method. Using her new laser pointer, she emphasized each point while discussing how this five-step, five-box method worked in every situation. "It may seem easier to simply take out items which go elsewhere and leave what stays in the room, but that method, while requiring less lifting, won't always work. By unloading the entire space and using the five boxes marked reject, recycle, resale, return, and review—" Kate shined a green dot on each as she spoke "—you replace only the things that truly belong, efficiently restore the rest to where they need to be, and will not fail to notice misplaced items tucked behind larger pieces."