“Of course.”
“Could we borrow Whiskey for a few hours?”
“Absolutely. He’d love to come.”
“That would be wonderful. I can pick him up in a few minutes.”
“No, no, I’ll bring him over. I’d like to say hi to Leo anyway.”
“Thank you.”
She hung up. “Come on, buddy. Want to go see Leo?”
Whiskey thumped his tail, then stood up to give a full wag.
“I’m taking Whiskey for a playdate at the rectory. Do you think you can get the mayor to call an emergency meeting of the board of trustees for tonight?”
“Yes, but why?”
“I think they need to be brought up to speed on the Gallantine House business. The reenactment is a major event that is suddenly in jeopardy, and I want to act while Grossman is still around. And also I think they need to step up to the plate for the town’s community center.”
“I’m on it. Have a nice time.”
It only took a few minutes to walk over to the rectory. When the pastor answered the door, Whiskey shot right past him to Leo.
Pastor Schorr sighed. “Animals are certainly God’s creatures.”
Liv could think of more than a few times when she’d been sure that Whiskey was the devil’s spawn, mainly after forays into ripe garbage. Or when he decided that dragging a roll of toilet paper through the house was interior design. Or when… “Yes, they really are.” And she imagined her feisty little-big dog with angel wings and a doggie smile.
Schorr led her back to the den where Leo and Whiskey were carrying on like old friends, which Liv guessed they were.
“Look who’s here, Leo.”
Leo looked up, scrambled to his feet. “Hi, Ms. Montgomery. Did you bring Whiskey to visit me?”
“I sure did, Leo. I was wondering if you could dog sit him for a little while.”
“Oh yeah. Whiskey and me are good friends, aren’t we, fella?”
Whiskey barked.
“Thank you so much,” Phillip said as they left the room. “At least he’ll have a little peace today. Though I don’t know what to do about the nights. We could both move upstairs. I don’t like leaving him completely alone, but the way things have been going, I don’t really want to leave the downstairs vulnerable.”
He pursed his lips. “That sounds awful from a clergyman.”
“It sounds like a very smart and caring clergyman,” Liv said. “I think it was Cliff Chalmers and his friends last night. They said something about the ghost being after Leo. Bill is looking into it.”
“Well, that somewhat relieves my mind.”
“They seem like overgrown delinquents. They might throw a few punches, but I don’t think they would resort to real premeditated violence. At least I hope they wouldn’t.”
She smiled at the pastor, saw the strain in his eyes. He was losing sleep and possibly losing his community center.
“I have an idea, if it’s all right with you.”
“I’m open to all ideas.”
“What if I left Whiskey here to spend the night?” Liv felt a stutter of separation anxiety at the thought of Whiskey on a sleepover. “If you don’t think he’d be too much trouble. He’s slept away from home before, so that shouldn’t be an issue.” He’d stayed with the Zimmermans several times, and in Manhattan he’d been boarded more times than she cared to remember.
“And if he gets to be too much, I can pick him up. Just call my cell. There’s a trustees meeting, so I’ll be at work late.”
“Are they worried over this latest business?”
“We’re all a little concerned, but that’s not what the meeting’s about. Just routine board work. Actually, I’ve been feeling a little guilty for not paying enough attention to Whiskey, so you and Leo would be doing me a favor.”
The pastor smiled. He was really quite charming. “Shall we tell Leo? I know it would make him feel safer.”
“Whiskey’s not only man’s best friend, he’s an excellent guard dog.”
Leo was thrilled, and Whiskey seemed happy to stay at the rectory. Liv stopped by the Woofery and asked Sharise to deliver some dog food and supplies.
“Sure, I can send someone over in a few minutes. Is Pastor Schorr getting a dog?”
“Whiskey is having a sleepover with Leo.”
“Ah. I heard the commotion over there last night. It’s great to live so close to work; I just walk downstairs in the morning. But the downside of living in town and right around the corner from the pub is that I get some pretty loud drunks on their way home. Sometimes they hang out in the cemetery across the street and continue to drink.
“The church is constantly having to clean up after them. There were a bunch of them there last night, and it wasn’t even a weekend. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re the ones that went peeking in the pastor’s window.”
“Did you tell this to Bill?”
“To one of the officers. He wrote it down, don’t know if he did anything about it. It’s just speculation on my part.”
“Maybe, but it bears checking out. I’d better run. Thanks for doing this.”
“My pleasure. I’ll put it on your account. Whiskey will be good for Leo. That boy loves animals. And I’m sure Pastor Schorr would enjoy the company. In fact…” Sharise trailed off. “I might just take them over myself.”
Liv left after that. She took her time to stroll through the park toward Town Hall. It seemed like love was in the air. BeBe and the man with the smile. Sharise about to visit the pastor.
Liv considered feeling sorry for herself. But she never had time for love anyway, and with this festival and the murder, she wasn’t about to take time off to look for it now.
Chapter Eighteen
Liv didn’t love paperwork days, when bills had to be tallied, payments reconciled, requests for payments sent out. Successes and failures, efficiencies and inefficiencies were compared and analyzed. Files had to be organized and filed away.
And, in the case of her new job, where with any luck she would be doing repeats for years to come, they would have to be collated so that the following years would run even more smoothly, with even less need to improvise.
If they had a venue for next year for this particular event.
She would have to put a contingency plan in place immediately. Which is one of the reasons she had called a meeting of the trustees tonight. Liv wanted to give them a heads-up on the possibility of having to find a new site for the reenactment. And even worse, a site they might have to pay for.
And she wanted to introduce the idea of underwriting a building for the community center. They would probably balk at first. But it was used by all ages and ethnicities, by all denominations and no denominations. Surely the town should be contributing to its operation.
“Are we eating in today?” Ted asked, pulling her from her wandering ideas.
“Oh,” Liv said. “Is it time for lunch?”
“It’s almost three o’clock, and unless you’re planning on going home and then turning around and coming back for the meeting, I say we eat.”
“You’re kind of crabby today,” Liv said.
“Because I don’t have my favorite dawg around to entertain me.” He heaved a woebegone sigh. “I don’t suppose you sing?”
“Don’t look at me. I can sing so-so, but I’m not participating in any canine chorus.”
Ted grinned. “Let’s blow this joint and go out to lunch.”
They both decided that it would take too much time to walk to Buddy’s, their usual go-to place for takeout. They walked across the street to the Corner Café.
Mr. Salvatini greeted them at the door.
“Well, well. I haven’t seen the two of you in quite a while.”
“Liv is such a taskmaster, she never gives me a lunch break.”
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“Ha-ha.” Mr. Salvatini turned his smile on Liv. “But worth it to work for such a lovely lady.”
Liv smiled at the compliment and gave Ted a complacent look. Mr. Salvatini was an old-world gentleman who had emigrated from Italy when he was a young man. He’d come for a visit to family friends, but once he’d met their daughter, he decided to stay. He married Alda Tonelli the following year.
Together, they began serving lunches to workers out of a food truck. Over the years they raised four boys and built their business until they bought the Corner Café and turned it into one of the most popular restaurants on the square.
Though the décor was nothing fancy and the tables were set so close that you could see what your neighbor was eating, the Formica tables always had small arrangements of fresh flowers. The menus were printed on plastic-covered paper, and specials were written on a chalkboard displayed on the wall.
Good home-style food, handmade pasta, and bread baked each day on the premises kept people coming back for more. Even though it was nearly three o’clock, the little café still had occupied tables. Mr. Salvatini led them over to a table by the big plate-glass window.
“Today we have zuppa de pesce. Very good. And Alda has made her specialty, Lamb Shank Pietro.” Mr. Salvatini smiled. “Named for our firstborn. And also a beautifully picante pasta primavera. Everything kissed by the sun in the garden and picked this morning.”
“I’d come here just to listen to him describe the food,” Ted said after he’d ordered the soup, the lamb shank, and the caprese salad, and Liv, the pasta.
Salvatini’s descriptions of the food were delightful, Liv agreed, but the actuality was even better. Her pasta was covered with fresh zucchini, green beans, eggplant, onions, and tomatoes, all combined to perfection.
“Excellent,” Ted said as he sat back from a plate that contained only a bone, picked clean. “Espresso?”
Liv nodded. The food was making her sleepy and content, not the best way to approach a board with bad news and a request for money.
Their coffees were brought by another Salvatini. One of the sons, medium height, a good-looking man in his twenties with glossy black hair and clear olive skin.
“Buon giorno, Nico. Como stai?”
“Good, Mr. Driscoll. And you?”
“Excellent, especially after this lunch. Give your mama our compliments.”
“I will. But I actually came out because I may have some news.” He looked quickly around. “Papa doesn’t want me to get involved.”
Liv remembered last December, when Mr. Salvatini had been so reluctant to confide information to the police.
“Well, by all means tell us.” Ted had lowered his voice, but his smile was still in place, so anyone looking would think they were talking about the weather.
But Nico was not so good. “I don’t know if this means anything, but twice that Jacob Rundle has come around trying to sell things to the kitchen staff. Watches, rings, phones. When Papa found out, he forbade anyone on the staff to deal with him. He was sure they were stolen.”
Nico grinned. “Papa sometimes states the obvious.” He shrugged in a “Who knows?” way. “Anyway, I thought it might be useful information considering what happened.”
“Did you tell the sheriff?”
“God no, Papa would have a fit. No one knows why he is uneasy with the authorities. He is an honest man. It has to do with politics or something from when he was a boy in the old country. Who knows? But he said it was okay to tell Ms. Montgomery and you.”
“Thank you, Nico. We’ll pass it on,” Ted said.
Nico nodded, duty done, and sauntered back into the kitchen.
“So, what?” Liv asked. “Do you think Henry Gallantine found out and lured Rundle to the roof to kill him?”
“It just doesn’t sound like Henry. He’s eccentric but not psycho.”
“This is so frustrating.” Liv twisted the lemon zest into her coffee. “If we just knew why Rundle was on the roof, we might be able to find out who killed him.”
“Is that another case of the royal ‘we’?” Ted asked, deadpan.
“Of course. Contrary to the growing belief, I don’t know anything about murder. I didn’t solve any murders before or since I’ve been here. And, as usual, I don’t have a clue.” Liv took a sip of the strong espresso. “Ah, but this makes up for it.”
• • •
The members of the board of trustees began arriving a few minutes before eight. Since it was a closed meeting, they met in one of the smaller meeting rooms on the first floor.
At eight o’clock, Liv and Ted walked down the hall to join the others. They had no presentations to make, no reports to give. This was entirely an opinion-gathering evening, which Liv hoped would mean a short meeting and an early night.
Roscoe and Rufus were sitting at the conference room table with a third member, Jeremiah Atkins, president of First Celebration Bank. Rufus Cobb ran a charming bed-and-breakfast a block off the square, and Roscoe Jackson was the proprietor of a quaint but useful general store on the east side of the park.
Ted and Liv sat down and the five of them chatted while waiting for the mayor.
Gilbert Worley walked in a few minutes later and closed the door behind him.
“Me and my…” Ted sang under his breath.
“No Janine,” Liv said. “Dare we hope?”
“Sorry I’m late, but I was picking up phone messages. Chaz won’t be joining us tonight. He said whatever we decide is fine.”
“He doesn’t even know what the meeting is about, does he?” Jeremiah turned to Liv. “Unless you know and told him.”
“Not me,” Liv said. They didn’t need him, but she had to admit she was a little disappointed. Not that he did much but occasionally vote her way in a close vote, but the votes were often close. They wouldn’t be voting on anything tonight, but she’d been hoping since their foray onto the roof of Gallantine House that he would bounce back to his old self and show up, even if he only came to sleep through the meeting.
“Shall we begin?” Gilbert asked, and sat down.
They all looked at one another. The mayor was never present without Janine tagging along. She wasn’t a trustee and didn’t have a vote, but she still managed to use the board meetings as a platform for her opinions—on just about everything. No one felt the need to ask where she was. Liv took that as a good sign.
“I’ll turn the meeting over to Liv, then,” the mayor said.
“Thank you, Mayor Worley. I asked for this meeting for two specific reasons, mainly for information gathering and as an opportunity for an opinion poll. As perhaps all of you know, a man approached the mayor the other day, a representative…”
When she’d finished giving them a detailed account of what Grossman had told the mayor and what she had learned from being stuck with him in the mansion for a day, she asked for questions.
“Can he do that?” Rufus asked, and chewed on his mustache.
“Not until Henry Gallantine reappears to enter into the contract,” Jeremiah informed them.
“If Henry Gallantine reappears,” Roscoe said, and slowly shook his head. “Where the heck is he? And why wasn’t he where he was supposed to be?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that museum person killed him,” Rufus said.
Jeremiah gave him an exasperated look. “But why would he kill the gardener?”
“I don’t know. Thought he was Gallantine, maybe.”
“Why would he do that? If Henry is dead, he can’t even bid on the property until after probate and then only if the heirs are willing to sell.”
“Who are the heirs?”
Realizing she wasn’t going to get any help from the mayor, Liv interrupted. “Gentlemen, the point is that we need to be prepared for the possibility of a sale. And begin looking at contingency plans.”
“Might not happen after all,” Rufus said. “Just be putting the cart before the horse if you ask me.”
“Maybe Rufus is right,” Roscoe said. “Maybe we should just wait and see.”
The board of trustees was definitely of the head-in-the-sand, wait-and-see philosophy, but they generally listened to Liv’s suggestions. Eventually.
“Let’s just say the horse needs to be fed, groomed, and ready for the cart if we need it.” She smiled at them, smiled at Ted, feeling pretty smug about her horse analogy. She was getting to be a downright small-town country girl.
Too bad no one even noticed. Chaz would have noticed and been sure to make some stupid remark.
“So, just to be on the safe side, I think we should start looking at alternative sites. If we don’t need them, great, but we may need them for something entirely different in the future.” She thought about saying “forewarned is forearmed,” but decided not to push her luck.
“I just wanted to apprise the board of the potential change. Just give it some thought, please.”
They discussed possible venues and who should cover what territory and who should make what calls, most of it ending with Liv and Ted doing the work. Then Liv moved on to her second item of business.
“It’s been brought to my attention that the town’s community center is losing its lease on the property on Baxter Street.
“The Presbyterian church and fund-raising by the center have been responsible for the rent, which is two hundred dollars a month.” Before moving here, Liv couldn’t imagine even renting a storage space for two hundred a month.
“I’d like to suggest to the board that we look into either renting or buying a building to house the center. As of now, the center is used in the mornings by the senior citizens and in the afternoons by the teen group. It has the potential to accommodate numerous other programs and cater to all the citizens of Celebration Bay.”
“That’s all fine and good, Liv,” Jeremiah said. “But how do you propose we underwrite this venture, and who’s going to run it?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of enlarging the programs and staff in increments. First, we just need to find an acceptable venue that can be accessed by everyone who uses the facilities.”
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