Flipped For Murder

by Maddie Day

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “What’s that?” I pointed to the cardboard, which looked a lot like a banjo.

  “My donation.” He raised one eyebrow.

  “It’s a pretty neat cardboard banjo.” What was I supposed to say?

  He pointed to a printed label on the round part. “Two introductory lessons in the fine art of banjo picking.”

  I peered at it, then straightened. “‘Donated by Abraham O’Neill,’” I read. “You teach music?”

  “I’ve been playing banjo since I was eight. Been in a few bands.” He held out a CD in his other hand. “Cut a couple of records.”

  “I’m impressed.” What other levels of depth did he have?

  He laughed. “Don’t be. It’s only down-homey music, what my dad used to call hillbilly picking. Where do you want these?”

  I pointed to Turner and the donation table. “Thanks,” I called after him, watching as he wove through the crowd. I turned back to Danna, who was squirting little circles of ketchup on top of hamburger patties already sitting on their bottom buns, a tiny leaf of lettuce in between. These occupied the Nesbitt’s tray, which, in fact, needed a layer of foil to protect the food from the rust. At least the outside of the rim was still mostly a shiny black with bright orange soda bottles lying on their sides, so it looked pretty.

  “Did they come out even, the patties and the buns?” I asked her.

  “Short one bun.”

  “That’s right, I gave it to the drinks man. Nice job thinking to add lettuce.”

  “Gives it a little crunch.” She squirted the last one, and I helped her top them all up.

  “Hey, everybody.”

  At a raised voice from the doorway, I whipped my head around. The buzz of the room quieted as Ed pushed through the door.

  “Eddie’s here,” he announced in a big sloppy voice. “To support those poor little animals.” He raised a fifth of Jim Beam in one hand and swigged from it. “It’s BYOB, right?”

  Chapter 28

  Don rushed to Ed’s side, relieving him of the bottle. I watched as he strong-armed Ed to the food table and made sure his friend filled a plate.

  “I ain’t hungry, Don,” Ed protested. His ruddy skin was even more flushed than usual, but his hair was neatly combed. He wore a plaid three-piece suit, wide lapels and all, like an outfit on a 1970s TV rerun. “And what’re you doing out of jail, anyway?”

  Heads turned at that, but all Don said was, “Eat.”

  The buzz in the room resumed, with several townsfolk shaking their heads and turning their backs like they’d seen this sideshow before. A couple held hands and walked slowly the length of the donation table, pointing and picking things up, sometimes signing the bid sheet. Three men stood talking near the sliders, beers in hand, feet set apart. Wanda chatted with the friend she’d come in with, but she kept her gaze on Don. A woman swept in the door, followed by a harried-looking younger woman and a man with a big camera on his shoulder. Our lieutenant governor, no doubt, and the reputed press presence. Adele, holding a half cup of white wine, made her way toward me as I set out the last trays of mini quiches and tiny meatballs. I lifted my apron off before giving her a hug.

  “What do you think?” I gestured at the spread of food, which was rapidly shrinking.

  “It’s all yummy. I think this is going to be a big success, despite the short notice.”

  I took a good look at her. “That’s some outfit. Looks good on you.” Adele, whom I’d rarely seen out of a pair of sensible trousers and either a T-shirt or a sweater, wore a dress-length top slit up the sides over baggy pants angling in slim at the ankles. The cloth was a subdued print in soft shades of yellows and blues, which made her blue eyes more vivid, and wide rows of embroidery decorated the neckline and cuffs. A silver necklace studded with blue stones nestled against the tanned skin covering her collarbones.

  “It’s from India. Samuel brought it from his latest trip there.” Adele’s cheeks pinkened.

  “What does he do in India?”

  “Mission work at an orphanage. They’ve been building a library and improving the schoolroom.”

  “That’s a labor of love,” I said.

  “‘Labor of love’?” Samuel appeared at Adele’s elbow, dapper in a light gray suit and a tie that matched the buttery yellow in Adele’s outfit.

  “Your good work overseas,” I said.

  “It’s not much.” He shrugged. “The kids in the orphanage are regular dolls, and grateful like children in this country haven’t been in a long time.”

  “I’d like to go with you one day, if I can ever find anybody to watch my animals,” Adele said.

  Phil still played at the piano, now taking requests. “What about Phil?” I asked. “I bet he’d stay at your place as caretaker. His talents seem endless.”

  “Possible,” Adele agreed. “He’s a good boy.”

  “That he is, that he is.” Samuel wandered off toward the piano.

  Adele lowered her voice and fixed her gaze on my face. “Any more word from Roberto?”

  I smiled. “I talked to him. Adele, he wants to meet me. He said Mom never told him about me.”

  She put an arm around me and squeezed. “I’m glad for you, honey. Real glad.”

  “He’s in the hospital, though. Has a bad infection in his foot.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  “I hope so.” My throat tightened like somebody was closing up a C-clamp on it.

  Corrine stood next to the donation table across the room. It now looked well populated with certificates, a gift basket of wine and jars of local picnic foods, a selection of books wrapped up in a ribbon, as well as the yarn, the banjo, and other items I couldn’t get a good glimpse of. I hadn’t had a chance to peruse it carefully and hadn’t bid on a single thing.

  Corrine clapped her hands. “Everybody?” she called out. When nobody but the folks right near her quieted, she put two fingers to her lips and let loose with a piercing playground whistle. It definitely got people’s attention.

  “As your mayor I’d like to thank you all for showing up during this difficult time in our small town. And as lovers of defenseless animals, the shelter and I thank you for your generosity, too.” She gestured to a trim woman, with a tidy cap of puffy blond hair, next to her, the one who’d been followed in by the camera.

  “We’re honored to have the lieutenant governor of our lovely state here to say a few words.” After the applause ebbed, Corrine introduced her, and the suit-clad woman spoke three pro forma sentences to the effect of how glad she was to be here and what wonderful services the shelter offered, while the cameraman recorded it.

  As nearly half the attendees held up phones to snap a picture, a black-and-white blur streaked by. Birdy leapt past the official to the donation table and, with one more mighty leap, ended up on the top shelf of the cookware.

  “There’s one right there,” I said in the ensuing silence. “His name’s Birdy, but he’s not exactly defenseless anymore. And he’s not supposed to be in the store, either.” The real question was how he had escaped from my apartment. I was sure I hadn’t left the door open. But did I lock it?

  People laughed and pointed as Birdy proceeded to bathe in view of everyone. I didn’t join in the laughter, imagining who might have left the party and gone poking around in my private living space. And with Don released, it meant the true killer was still on the loose. Perhaps right here in this crowd. I hugged my suddenly goose-pimpled arms.

  Corrine went on. “We’re all grateful to our newest businesswoman here, Robbie Jordan, for hosting us on short notice and for providing such delicious food. Welcome to South Lick, Robbie!” She gestured at me and clapped, making sure everybody else did, too. The camera now pointed in my direction.

  I tried to wave down the applause and mustered a smile. The show must go on. “I’m glad my store and restaurant is open, finally, and happy you all could join in this great cause. I was lucky to have lots of assistants tonight. J
im Shermer helped set up, Phil MacDonald baked the delicious brownies, and Danna Beedle, here, is my new right-hand woman.” I pointed to each of them in turn. “The Nashville Inn donated all the appetizers—except our sliders—so be sure to stop on over there and thank them if you can. Most of all, thanks to Corrine for her superb organizing.”

  Corrine bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Now, we have lots of fabulous items for the silent auction, so be sure you don’t let yourself get outbid. You only have a half hour left.” She swept her arm toward the donation table. “A big round of applause to all our donors. The auction closes at eight sharp, hear?”

  The state official left minutes after Corrine’s introduction, but not before Corrine made sure I’d met her and shaken her cool hand. She seemed to me like a person with higher ambitions, one whom this little town might never see again in person. Spying Jim near my apartment, I headed in his direction.

  “Come with me?” I beckoned when I got near. He raised his eyebrows, but he followed me to the door, which, sure enough, wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even latched. I looked at Jim, turning as cold as the bottom water in a quarry pit. “I wondered how Birdy got out. I didn’t leave this door open, I’m sure.”

  He tested the handle and the door opened easily. “You didn’t lock it?”

  “I guess not. Remember, you reminded me to change? And time was getting short. I maybe didn’t lock up after myself.” I smacked my forehead. “Dumb. But not so dumb as to leave it ajar. Pretty sure that cat can’t open a latched door. And speaking of the cat . . .” I scanned the shelves where I’d seen him last. Sure enough, he slept curled up on top of a rusty vintage American Cutlery Company scale on the top shelf, weighing in at seven and a half pounds. Conversation had picked up where it left off. Bottles clinked, a woman laughed, and music emanated from the piano.

  “Hang on a sec,” I said, striding toward my kitty. “Birdy, come on down,” I called when I stood in front of him. He perked up his head, yawned, and jumped down onto one of the donation sheets on the table.

  “Ain’t she the cutest thing around?” Georgia said in delight.

  I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, so I only said, “He’s a he,” but I softened it with a smile. I picked him up by his scruff and carried him in my arms to the apartment door.

  “Ready?” Jim asked.

  I pushed open the door. When Birdy scrambled in my arms, I set him down and watched him streak toward the kitchen and his bowls. Jim stepped in, too, his eyes scanning the living room.

  “I want to check out the apartment,” I said as I shut the door behind us.

  “Let’s walk through the rooms together, if that’s okay,” I said. “I could do it alone, but—”

  “With what’s been going down around here, I’d feel more comfortable making sure nobody’s lying in wait for you.” He took my arm and we systematically checked the apartment.

  I blushed a little at my bedroom. I’d never gotten around to making the bed and today’s work clothes, including a black bra, lay on a heap on the bedroom floor, right where I’d left them. But no one lurked in the closet. As we moved through the apartment, nobody jumped out from behind the couch and the back door was securely locked. My laptop sat in its place on the little desk. Everything in the kitchen seemed in order, or at least as I’d left it, which was kind of messy. At least it looked like my mess.

  I shook my head. “Huh. Maybe I didn’t latch the door after I got dressed, after all.”

  “One more closet?” Jim tilted his head toward the space where I stashed coats, brooms, and charcoal off the back hall.

  “Oh, yeah.” I headed over there and pulled open the door. And shrieked. Jim rushed to my side.

  “Hey, Robbie.” Roy pushed aside my raincoat and stepped into the hall, wearing an abashed grin.

  “Roy, what in hell are you doing in Robbie’s apartment?” Jim’s voice was stern.

  My heart once again beat faster than a turbocharged engine on Memorial Day weekend. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, you know. I thought the door was to one of the bathrooms, had to take a leak.” Roy’s breath smelled of alcohol and his diction was too relaxed—even for a native of the county.

  “It’s clearly labeled ‘Private.’” I folded my arms, my heart slowing back to something resembling normal.

  “Guess I done missed that.”

  “And why were you in my coat closet?” I pointed. “You couldn’t possibly have missed that this was my apartment and not the restaurant’s restroom.” I wanted to shake a portion of sense into this man, or at least shake the truth out of him. Was he that dense? Was he looking for something of mine? Or what?

  He grinned again. “I confess.” He held up his palms. “I just wanted to look around, see what you done with the place. I was going to live here, you know.” His grin gone, he lifted his chin. “This was all s’posta be mine.”

  “Well, it isn’t yours. You could be charged with trespassing, you know,” Jim said in his best lawyer voice. “Even if the door wasn’t closed, it is posted ‘Private.’”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Shermer. I’m leaving, okay?” Roy pushed past us into the kitchen, then he turned back.

  “Listen, you want to charge somebody, you charge Mayor Corrine out there.” He pronounced the name as Corrine herself did, as “Co-reen.” “She killed her husband, you know, long time ago. My mom knowed all about it. She’d been taking money from Corrine for years.”

  “Blackmailing her?” So the story was true. Corrine herself had mentioned Stella blackmailing men. But cleverly failed to mention her own case.

  “Call it whatever you want. My mom had the goods on her. And on a bunch of others in town, too. Did she share the proceeds with me? She did not.”

  Stunned, I watched him disappear into the living room. Jim followed and I heard the door close with a firm click. He returned a moment later.

  “Want me to get Wanda to charge Roy?” Jim asked, gazing at me with eyebrows pulled together. “She’s still there, in the restaurant.”

  “Damn.” I shut my mouth and stared at the doorway to the living room. “I don’t know. Should I?”

  “It’s your call. Seems like a pretty clear case to me.”

  I nodded slowly. “Please. I’m also going to check the place more carefully. Who knows what he made off with?”

  Chapter 29

  Jim went out to talk with Wanda, having said he’d keep an eye on the door to make sure nobody else got in. I made another, even closer sweep of my apartment, but I still didn’t find anything missing. I headed back to the party, this time making sure I locked the door after I closed it. Jim waved to me from across the room, where he stood with Wanda and Roy. By the time I waded through the crowd to them, Wanda held Roy firmly by the elbow.

  “Robbie, are you willing to make a statement Roy Rogers unlawfully entered your apartment and took up a position of concealment?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Are you missing anything? I can add charges of larceny.” Wanda looked almost excited about the prospect.

  “Nothing’s missing. Not that I can tell, at least.”

  Roy struggled. “The door to her apartment was open. I was only curious.”

  Wanda strong-armed him and gave him the stink eye. “Roy, do I have to cuff you right here in front of the whole town?”

  He glared at me, but he stopped resisting Wanda’s hold. She walked him out the door.

  The place was still bustling with partygoers, although the food was pretty much decimated. I snagged a forlorn quiche and downed it, then grabbed one of the last brownies. Luckily, the wine was still flowing. I poured out a cup of red and took a blessed sip, savoring the warming feeling as it went down. I gathered up a couple of plates and took the food refuse to the compost bucket, which was full.

  Setting down my wine, I carried the bucket out the service door, letting it swing closed behind me, relieved to get out of the hubbub for a brief moment. I stopped when I sniffed cigarette
smoke. Don’s voice followed. Glancing over my shoulder, I realized he stood directly on the other side of the six-foot-high fence, which shielded the service area from the street.

  “I saw you. I saw you drive up that afternoon.”

  “So what? It’s a public street.” Ed’s voice, no longer sounding drunk.

  “I kept watching. You went into her house.”

  My eyes sprang open so far, I thought my eyeballs would pop out. Don was talking about Stella. Silence for a moment, and then a noisy inhale, followed by another waft of smoke.

  “We used to go out, long time ago.”

  “That’s not why you visited her, and you know it. Did you kill her?”

  “Of course not. For alls I know, you knocked her off.”

  Don made a tsking sound. “Of course I didn’t. Why would I?”

  “Well, why would I?” Ed said with scorn.

  “’Cause she was blackmailing you, just like she was soaking half the rest of town. What’d she have on you, huh? That you cheat on health inspections? That you molest girls?”

  “Don’t you even say it!” Ed was almost growling now. “You’re the one who attempted murder some years back.”

  My nose tickled with a sneeze coming on. There could be murder attempted on me if I didn’t get back inside—and quick. The compost could wait. I slipped back into the kitchen and managed to wait until the door closed before letting loose with a major “Achoo!”

  I scanned the room for Wanda, until I remembered she’d taken Roy away. I stepped back into my apartment and left a message for Buck about what I overheard, then I headed back into the fray.

  At ten before eight, Corrine whistled again. “Ten minutes to outbid your rivals, people,” she announced in a voice that overrode the murmur of conversation, the clinking of beer bottles, even the Beatles songs Georgia was picking out on the piano with a small cohort of fans gathered around her, singing along.

  Almost everybody in the room dutifully wandered over to the donation table. I was intrigued by the prospect of banjo lessons with Abe. On my way to the table to see what the bidding was up to, I passed Ed, who was slouched in a chair alone at the table, a bottle of water having replaced the one of whiskey. He wore the pawprint pin on his wide lapel.