A Catered Fourth of July

by Isis Crawford

  “Okay. What do we know?” she asked rhetorically. “We know that everyone in the reenactment and their spouses are members of the Musket and Flintlock Club. We know that Elise Montague is president of the organization and that everyone in it not only knows how to shoot a musket, but presumably knows how they work.”

  “And that they have access to shot and black powder,” Sean noted. “Not that they couldn’t buy that stuff in any sporting goods or gun store.”

  “We also know,” Libby added, “that Rick Evans’ wife Gail had an affair with Jack Devlin, an affair that Rick says doesn’t bother him, but which other people say did.”

  “Not to mention the fact that Devlin broke off the affair with Gail, which she also says doesn’t bother her,” Bernie told her dad.

  “In other words, they’re just your average, unhappily married couple,” Sean said.

  Bernie reached over, broke a blondie in half, and ate it. “According to them, they’re soul mates. Peccadilloes of the flesh don’t concern them.”

  Sean raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s what they say,” Libby reiterated.

  “So do you think what they’re saying is true?” Sean asked.

  “I guess I’m not that highly evolved because it would sure bother the hell out of me,” Bernie replied. “I think it would piss off Rick Evans, too, even if he didn’t admit it. Ego aside, he wants to run for public office. This kind of thing sure doesn’t make him look good.”

  Sean took another bite of his peach. “No, it doesn’t. It makes him look like a fool.”

  “Dad, that’s so retro,” Libby cried.

  Sean grinned. “Well, I am an old man. Okay. Who’s next on the list?”

  “Well, David Nancy’s wife Cora and his stepsister Monica Lewis had affairs with Jack Devlin,” Bernie said.

  “Monica’s affair with Devlin caused David Nancy to lose a great deal of money,” Libby added.

  “So David Nancy has two reasons to want Devlin dead,” Sean summarized.

  “That’s if Sanford Aiken’s story about Monica is to be believed,” Bernie said.

  “Shouldn’t it be?” Sean asked.

  Libby and Bernie looked at each other. “Yes. No. I don’t know,” they both said simultaneously.

  “Which is it? Yes, no, or maybe? They can’t both be telling the truth.”

  “I’m not sure,” Bernie admitted. “Maybe both. Devlin definitely upset Monica Lewis to the point where she went to India for a year to regroup.”

  “Why would Aiken lie?” Sean asked.

  “Because he was angry at Monica for leaving him for Devlin. Of course, Aiken was also stepping out with David Nancy’s wife Cora.”

  “Who was also sleeping with Devlin,” Libby noted.

  Sean shook his head. “So Devlin took two women away from Aiken. There’s a motive right there. You know what they say about hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? That goes double for guys. Never underestimate the power of the male ego.” He reached over and took a gingersnap. “It’s a wonder these people have time to make a living. Who knew there was so much hanky-panky going on in Longely?”

  “Hanky-panky?” Libby asked.

  “An old term for fooling around. Unauthorized sex,” Sean explained after he’d taken a bite of the gingersnap. He let the cookie dissolve on his tongue. That way he could savor it longer.

  “Let’s not forget about Samuel Cotton,” Bernie said, getting back to the subject at hand. “He was sleeping with Elise Montague . . .”

  “And that ended badly because Elise quit him to go with Devlin,” said Libby, finishing Bernie’s sentence. “That leaves Samuel Cotton with a motive to kill Devlin, as well.”

  “Then Devlin broke up with Elise after she left Samuel Cotton to go with him,” Bernie added. “That really rubbed her ego the wrong way. Of course, there’s always the Grishams. Devlin had an affair with Juno while her husband was away, and then took her diamond ring and presented it to Monica Lewis as an engagement ring.”

  Libby took another cookie and nibbled on its edge. “Neither one of them were near the bench when the reenactors acquired their muskets. Not that they had to be.”

  “Also true,” Bernie agreed.

  “I’m telling you,” Libby said. “When we figure out how Devlin got that musket we will have solved the case.”

  Sean rubbed the sides of his forehead. He wished he could smoke a cigarette. They always helped him focus. “Was there anyone at the reenactment who didn’t have a reason to kill Devlin?” he asked plaintively.

  “Nope,” Bernie said. “Unfortunately not.”

  “Not that I can think of,” Libby agreed.

  “That’s too bad,” Sean said.

  “Why?” Bernie asked.

  “Because at least then we could eliminate someone,” Sean replied.

  Libby sighed. “That’s why I said we’re not much further along than we were before.”

  “But at least we know why everyone wanted to kill Devlin,” Sean pointed out. “Now we just have to figure out how.”

  “How do we do that?” Libby asked him.

  “Go back to the beginning,” Sean instructed. “That’s what I used to do when I was stuck.”

  “Go back to the beginning?” Libby repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. Revisit the scene with Marvin. See if he can remember anything. Anything at all. Even the smallest detail can lead to something.” Sean reached over and took another gingersnap. “I always liked your mother’s gingersnaps,” he reminisced as he took a bite. “But I think these are even better than hers.”

  Bernie and Libby grinned. That was high praise indeed.

  “It’s the fresh ginger I grate into the batter.” Libby was about to explain that her mom had used the powdered kind because that’s all there was back then when her dad’s cell phone rang.

  “Yes?” he said when he picked it up. He listened to the person on the other end for a minute then put the phone back on the coffee table.

  “What is it?” Libby cried. From the expression on her dad’s face she knew that whatever it was couldn’t be good.

  “That was Clyde. Evidently the DA is swearing out an arrest warrant for Marvin. He has till tomorrow afternoon to report to the police station with his lawyer. After that, they’re going to go get him.”

  Libby gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she cried.

  “Twenty-four hours. That should be enough time to wind this thing up,” Sean said, trying to bolster her up even though he wasn’t sure that what he had said was true.

  Bernie reached over and patted Libby’s thigh. “Don’t you worry. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

  “Like it has been?” Libby asked.

  Bernie didn’t answer. There was nothing she could say.

  Chapter 35

  “Is there anything you can think of, anything at all?” Libby begged Marvin an hour later. She, Bernie, and Marvin were in the park standing by the bench where Marvin had dumped the muskets.

  “How about shooting myself?” Marvin said.

  “Besides that,” Bernie said.

  “Ha-ha. Funny lady,” Marvin said.

  It was a little after two and the sun was out. As Bernie swatted a fly away from her face, she smelled the roses from the rose garden and that got her thinking. “Libby, you know what we haven’t done?”

  “Besides solve the case?” Libby replied.

  “We haven’t talked to Whitney Peters and Holly Roget. Amber told me they’re back from the Hamptons. Maybe they saw something.”

  “They were busy dancing around in the rose garden doing their Wiccan thing,” Libby pointed out. “How could they have seen anything?”

  “You never know,” Bernie replied. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “I suppose we have nothing to lose,” Libby agreed.

  “I do,” Marvin said, remembering his encounter with Juno. “I’m not going anywhere near those two.” He waved his hands in
the air. “Those people are nuts.”

  “Maybe Bernie’s right,” Libby told him.

  Marvin bit his lip. “They didn’t see anything,” he insisted.

  “How do you know if you don’t ask them?” Bernie demanded.

  “I know because they were jumping up and down like lunatics and then they were spinning around and chanting,” Marvin retorted.

  “Fine. Then don’t go.” Libby was beginning to get annoyed with him. It seemed as if she and Bernie were doing all the heavy lifting. “We will.”

  Marvin spread his hands wide. “I just don’t want to spend the last bit of freedom that I have doing that.”

  Bernie snorted. “God, you’re negative.”

  “No. I’m realistic,” Marvin replied.

  “You’ll be out on bail in no time, if it comes to that,” Bernie told him. “But maybe if we talk to them that won’t happen.”

  “Maybe.” To be polite, Marvin agreed.

  Libby was inclined to go along with Marvin’s assessment of the situation, but she didn’t want to say that. Instead, she redirected the conversation, getting back to where they’d been before Bernie had brought up the Wiccans. “You must have seen something when you put the muskets in the shed. Or took them out.”

  “I already told you I didn’t,” Marvin said crossly. The waiting was wearing on him. He just wanted the whole thing over with. He was beginning to think that going to jail would be a relief.

  “Be that as it may, I want you to close your eyes and picture the scene,” Libby told him.

  “Why?” Marvin demanded. “What is this going to accomplish?”

  “Dad said we should go back to the beginning, so that’s what we’re doing. Unless you have a better idea?” Bernie asked.

  Since Marvin didn’t, he did as he was told. “Now what?”

  “Tell me what happened,” Libby said.

  “I already have more times then I can count,” Marvin objected.

  “Do it again,” Libby ordered.

  Marvin let out a long sigh. He was tired. He was hot. He could feel a trickle of perspiration snaking its way down his back. Even worse, his mind was a complete jumble. With all due respect to Mr. Simmons, he thought that what he, Libby, and Bernie were doing was ridiculous. He couldn’t see anything when he closed his eyes, except these little amoeba like thingies floating in front of his retinas.

  To be honest, he couldn’t remember what had happened two hours ago, let alone what had happened the week before. Maybe if he could sleep, it would be different. But he couldn’t. Every time he put his head down on the pillow all he could see was Devlin’s face. And Devlin’s scream when the musket misfired kept on echoing in his ears. It just wouldn’t go away.

  “What do you see?” Libby asked.

  Marvin opened his eyes. “Nothing. I don’t see anything.”

  Now it was Libby’s turn to sigh.

  “Okay, Marvin,” Bernie said, deciding that it was time to try another strategy. “Let’s just retrace your steps. Maybe that will jog your memory.”

  “Fine,” he replied. At least, he thought, that’s better than standing here feeling like a total idiot. “I parked my car up there.” He pointed to the parking lot near the rose garden.

  The three of them walked up there.

  “And then?” Bernie prompted.

  “I took everything out of the trunk of my car, and carried it down to the shed.”

  “Pretend to do it,” Bernie told him.

  He did.

  “What did you see on your walk down?” Libby asked.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Marvin immediately answered. “I was too busy trying not to trip as I went down the hill. I was carrying everything in a big pile and I couldn’t see in front of me. I should have made two trips, but I was in a hurry and didn’t have the time.”

  “And then what happened?” Libby asked once they’d gotten down to the shed, which was festooned with crime scene tape.

  “I put everything down on the ground.”

  “Do it,” Bernie ordered.

  “I feel like a moron,” Marvin told her.

  “Do it anyway. Then what happened next?” Bernie asked after Marvin had pantomimed the action.

  “Then I went to open the lock on the shed, but when I grabbed hold of it, it opened by itself.” Marvin talked as he reenacted what had happened. “I figured someone had left it that way so I took the lock out of the metal loop it was hanging on and opened the door.”

  “Did you see anything inside?” Libby asked.

  “Like what?” Marvin responded.

  “I don’t know. Something. Anything.” Libby knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “No. I didn’t see anything. Just dust and cobwebs. I put everything down on the shelves inside and went out and tried to close the lock, but it wouldn’t close. I was really annoyed,” Marvin remembered. “I had to get back to work. We had Mrs. Cullen’s calling hours in the evening and I had to get back in time to receive the flowers and set up the chairs.”

  “So you just left the lock the way it was?” Bernie asked.

  Marvin paused. “No,” he said slowly, remembering. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What did you do?” Libby asked.

  Marvin grinned. “I called Rick Evans. I wanted to tell him about the lock.”

  “On his cell?” Libby asked.

  Marvin shook his head. “No. I tried that first, but when I tried to leave a message his voice mail was full so I called his wife. She gave me the number of the office where he was working so I tried that next.”

  “Did you get him?” Bernie inquired.

  “No. I got a receptionist. She said he was in a meeting and that she’d give him the message as soon as he got out.”

  “After which?”

  “After which I hung up.”

  “Did you ever call him back?” Libby asked.

  “No. I didn’t.” Marvin frowned. “I guess I should have.”

  “Not necessarily,” Libby said, trying to be supportive.

  “But things got really busy,” Marvin said. “There were two pickups. I guess it went clean out of my head until now.”

  “Do you remember the number you dialed?” Bernie asked.

  Marvin took his cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s probably here,” he replied as he pressed CONTACTS, pressed RE-CENTS, and began to scroll down. “There it is,” he cried, tapping the screen. “That’s it.”

  “Call,” Libby ordered.

  Marvin did. As soon as someone came on the line, Libby took the phone and explained what they needed.

  Chapter 36

  “That was a net loss,” Libby observed fifteen minutes later.

  According to the woman who had finally come on the line after a five-minute wait, it was simple. Given the circumstances and the time frame, no one at the firm of Aberthay and Marks would possibly remember taking a message like that.

  “Oh well,” Marvin said, sounding dejected. “It was worth a shot.”

  “At least we have a direction to go in.” Bernie was ever the optimist.

  “We need to locate Rick Evans,” Libby said firmly.

  Bernie nodded. “And find out whether or not he ever got the message.”

  Marvin repositioned his sunglasses. “What difference does that make?”

  Libby gave him the look. “Seriously?”

  He swatted at a dragonfly buzzing around his head before answering. “Yes, seriously.”

  “Obviously, if he got the message then he knew that the shack was open,” Libby said.

  “So?” Marvin said.

  “So he could have gone in and over-primed the musket,” Libby said.

  “Yeah, but we can’t prove that he did.”

  “It’s another nail in his circumstantial coffin,” Libby told Marvin.

  Bernie laughed. “Circumstantial coffin! I like that. Maybe I’ll use that when we talk to him.”

  “He’s not going to talk to us
,” Marvin declared.

  “We won’t know till we try, now will we?” Bernie said.

  “Even if he doesn’t, we can go to Clyde with this. It makes you look a little better—” Libby stopped talking.

  She’d been about to say if you have to mount a defense, but she decided not to go there.

  “I hope you’re right.” Marvin glanced at his watch. He could feel his moments of freedom ticking away.

  “I am,” Libby reassured him. “But first we have to find Evans.”

  “Finding him being the operative phrase here.” Bernie took out her phone and called Rick. The call went straight to voice mail. She left a message and hung up. “He’s not answering.”

  “Now what?” Marvin asked.

  “Now we start looking for him.”

  They walked over to the van and climbed in. A minute later, the search was on. Bernie drove to the Evans house first, but no one was home, then she tried the mayor’s office, the fire house, the post office, and the police station as well as the diner down by the end of Main Street and the bar in the strip mall by the new Thai restaurant. No one had seen Rick Evans . . . or if they had, they weren’t saying.

  “Maybe he’s working in New York,” Marvin suggested.

  “Gail might know.” Bernie tried phoning her. That call went straight to voice mail, as well.

  “Now what?” Marvin asked.

  “Good question.” Libby looked at Bernie. “How about the gun club?” It was the last place she could think of to look.

  Bernie agreed. It wasn’t as if they had anything to lose. “This time, we go the front way.”

  Libby laughed.

  “I don’t get it,” Marvin said.

  Libby explained on the way over. The drive took less than fifteen minutes. Except for a Range Rover and an Infinity, the parking lot was empty when they got there.

  “I think those are Rick and Gail’s vehicles,” Bernie said as she parked the van by a barrel full of geraniums.

  “Do you think this is going to help?” Marvin asked.

  “It can’t hurt,” Bernie said, opening the door and getting out.

  It was gusty up on top of the hill and Bernie could hear the wind whistling. A breeze tugged at her shirt. She looked around as she tucked the hem of her sleeveless white silk shirt back in the waistband of the floral printed cotton skirt she’d gotten at Barney’s last week.