“Not often, my love.”
“But Brady’s another story. I just wanted to get a peek at the history on his laptop—see if he’d visited any bank sites lately.”
“Did you? Get a peek at his laptop, I mean?”
“In a manner of speaking. With all the brouhaha over the body, I didn’t have a chance to do my peeking on-site.” She glanced down at her tote, which she’d parked under her feet. “So I brought it back with me.”
“You stole Brady Beale’s computer?”
“Borrowed it,” Althea corrected with a minatory air. “I would have looked at it last night, but I’m afraid the long day caught up with me. I’m ashamed to say I fell asleep.”
“We neither of us are as young as we used to be,” Nolan murmured.
Quill stared at Althea’s tote. It was made of straw, with yarn butterflies stitched on the side. She could make out the faint outline of a thin, laptop-sized rectangle. “You borrowed Brady Beale’s laptop?”
“I did.”
Quill felt a little light-headed.
Althea checked her watch, which was a big stainless-steel item totally in keeping with her dress and demeanor. “I’ve got five minutes to nine. Shall we scamper on down to the mayor’s office?”
“Yes,” Quill said dazedly. “Sure.” She picked up her tote and slung it over her shoulder. “My car’s just out back.”
Althea gave Nolan a hearty kiss on the cheek, swallowed the last of her cherry turnover in two large bites, and followed Quill across the terrace to her car. “You may be wondering how I obtained a job as a mechanic at Peterson Automotive.”
“I am.” Quill opened the passenger side door of her Honda. Althea swung in with surprising grace for a woman her size.
“I called Marge Schmidt for assistance. That is one capable lady. She carries the business insurance for just about everyone in Hemlock Falls. The woman’s a gold mine of information. One of the mechanics is a kid just out of high school…a Peterson, as a matter of fact. Zeke Peterson. I assume that it’s short for Ezekiel, who was one of the minor prophets, if I am not mistaken.”
“They’re everywhere,” Quill said. “Petersons, not prophets. There’s a billion of them in Hemlock Falls.” She started the Honda and pulled onto the drive that led into Main Street.
“So I called the kid. Said I was from the New York state lottery and he had to go to Syracuse to pick up his winnings. Then I showed up at Peterson Automotive in Zeke’s place.”
“How did you know Zeke Peterson bought lottery tickets?”
“All nineteen-year-old grease monkeys buy lottery tickets. Just like they all drink beer.”
Quill didn’t bother to challenge this. After all, Althea’s ploy had worked. “He went all the way to Syracuse for nothing? Poor kid.”
Althea looked at her, amused. “Aren’t you the bleeding heart, though? No, no. Don’t get ruffled. I’m just as bad. I left a couple hundred in cash in the kid’s mailbox in an ordinary number ten white envelope.”
The parking lot in the municipal building was almost full, which meant that Howie Murchison was holding traffic court. Quill pulled into a parking space next to a black-and-white police cruiser. She was very aware of the stolen laptop in Althea’s possession. Howie could probably handle the letter over the lawsuit and defend Althea against a stolen property charge with one hand tied behind his back. And she’d decided that she really wanted a look at Brady’s computer.
“Look at all this! Town court, mayor’s office, sheriff’s office all in one place,” Althea said. “And every building on Main Street seems to be made of cobblestone. This is just great.”
“We aren’t very large as a village, really. Just under four thousand people. It’s the tourists that drive the economy here.” Quill put the Honda into park and sat there, scanning the parking lot.
“You don’t look as sprightly as you might, girlfriend. We’re going to go into the mayor’s office, vote to reinstate Adela as chair of the fete, and get cracking on our murder, aren’t we?”
“Maybe. That’s Harvey Bozzel’s Nissan there, right next to Dolly Jean’s Taurus, which is right next to Carol Ann’s Escalade. I don’t think they’re all here for traffic court. They’re here to try to bully Elmer.”
“Today’s traffic court?”
“Third Thursday of the month. Like clockwork.”
“But all these people mean Adela’s doomed?”
“Doomed is the word, I think. Me, too, if I end up getting elected head of the steering committee. I’ll tell you something, if they try to stick me with the job, I. Am. Not. Doing. It. Got that?”
Althea nodded vigorously.
Quill sighed and got out of the car. “Hang on. There’s Marge’s pickup truck. If she’s at this meeting, it’s because she’s found something out about the money. Maybe Adela’s not toast after all.”
An outside staircase on the east end of the building led directly to the mayor’s office. Quill nudged Althea in its direction. “Would you mind going up and seeing if she’s there? If not, I’ll give her a call. Don’t bother with your tote. I’ll bring it up.”
Althea bounded up the staircase, her scarves floating gaily in the breeze. She disappeared inside, then reemerged, and gave Quill a thumbs-up.
Quill waved her back in, then ducked into the Honda and stashed the laptop under the driver’s seat. She grabbed her tote as well as Althea’s and went up the stairs.
The door opened into a tiny reception area, with a ficus in a wood pot and two molded plastic chairs. A door leading to Elmer’s office sported a brass plaque that read: THE HONORABLE MAYOR OF THE VILLAGE OF HEMLOCK FALLS. A large black plastic sign beneath it had ELMER B. HENRY in etched white letters. The door was partway open. Carol Ann’s sweetly precise tones wafted nastily through the opening. “What do you mean, Miami? How come that money got routed through Miami? Miami’s full of drug smugglers and Colombian dope fiends. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Adela Henry got mixed up with them.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Elmer shouted. “You lay off my wife!”
Althea and Quill entered the mayor’s office together. It was a large room, running the length of the south end of the municipal building. Elmer’s desk sat in the middle, in front of four double-hung windows that looked out over Maple Street. The American flag, the flag of New York State, and a banner with the village emblem ranged on either side.
At the far end of the room, a round conference table seated up to a dozen people. Elmer sat with his back against the wall. Carol Ann paced up and down the indoor-outdoor carpeting, waving her arms. Dolly Jean and Harvey were huddled together in the far corner. Dookie sat on Elmer’s right. Marge sat on Elmer’s left. She was scowling. She looked past Carol Ann as Quill came in. “’Bout time you got here.”
“It’s just on nine,” Althea said. “We’re not late. You’re early.” She pulled out a chair and sat down with a noisy crash. “So. What’s going on?”
“My tech guy found the money. It’s in the Cayman Islands. Transferred electronically through a Miami bank two days ago.”
Quill sat down with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I mean, I’m sorry the money got moved, but I’m sure glad you found it. Now we can ask Adela to come back.”
“So Adela can just put it back and it’s business as usual?” Dolly Jean said disapprovingly. “That doesn’t seem right. You can say all you want to say about bygones being bygones, but I ask you.”
“Adela didn’t take it,” Marge said bluntly. “Unless she made a trip to Florida recently?”
“We were planning on a trip in November to see my cousins,” Elmer said. “But we haven’t been near the place this year.”
Marge tapped her file emphatically. “My tech guy went through both the Henrys’ computers and he couldn’t find a thing linking them with any Miami bank. Unless you think Elmer’s a lot smarter than I know him to be, they’re in the clear.”
Elmer looked as if he were trying to work
Marge’s statement into a compliment. He gave it up and glared at Carol Ann. “See! I told you it was all a mistake.”
“You got hacked,” Harvey said with a knowing air. “Happens all the time.”
“Like you’d know anything about it,” Marge said rudely. “But yeah. The account got hacked.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Carol Ann snarled.
“You’re not important,” Althea said, without a particle of malice. “The important thing is the cops. What’d your local guy do, Marge, turn this over to the state fraud unit?”
“He had to. The experts are up in Albany.”
“And let’s hope they remain there.” Althea reached out one long arm and plucked the file away from Marge. “May I?” She flipped through the contents, shaking her head all the while. “Wow. Wow. This mean anything to you, Marge?”
Marge reached up and grabbed it back. “Mean anything to you, Mrs. Quince?”
“Not a thing!” Althea said cheerfully. “But if this proves Adela’s innocence, I say, go for it.”
“We haven’t heard from the fraud unit,” Carol Ann said. “I don’t trust anybody in your pay, Marge Schmidt. You’d just as soon bribe somebody as look at them. I may not be Mrs. Richer Than God like some people, but I’m somebody in this town. I say we wait for the fraud unit to report back to us.”
Althea made a rude noise. “Phooey. It’ll take the fraud unit twenty years to get back to you on this one, and I’ve got a fiver in my pocket that they’ll tell you exactly what Marge just did.” She slapped a five-dollar bill down on the table with a flourish. Nobody picked it up. She waved the file at them. “There’s not enough evidence to hang a cat in here, much less Adela Henry. I’ll tell you what you do. You put in a claim on your village insurance policy for the hundred thou or so and cross your fingers that your agent doesn’t hang you out to dry.”
“The insurance!” Elmer said. “Thank the good Lord. I forgot about the insurance. Reverend, it’s a miracle.”
“Perhaps not for Mrs. Schmidt-Peterson,” Dookie said mildly.
Althea gave a shout of laughter. “No kidding! You carry the town policy, Marge?” One look at Marge’s expression confirmed it. “Well, damn. Sorry about that. Your loss ratio is going to stink this year.” She slapped Marge on the shoulder. “And you did it to yourself. It’s true, isn’t it? No good deed goes unpunished.”
Quill bit her lip…Pique, rue, and a certain amount of humor warred in Marge’s face. She wanted to make a grab for her sketch pad but didn’t dare.
Althea re-draped her scarves over her shoulder. “Have we got all the fete committee members here? We do? Reverend Shuttleworth? Would you care to second any motion I’m going to make to reinstate Mrs. Henry to the position of chairperson of the fall fete?”
“I would indeed, Mrs. Quince.”
Quill felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She raised her hand. “I’d be more than happy to second that motion as well.”
13
“That’s a happy ending there,” Althea said, when they had left the meeting and were once more in the parking lot. She and Quill both watched as Carol Ann peeled onto Maple with an angry squeal of tires. “Carol Ann’s little cabal’s been squashed and the fete will go on as planned with Adela in charge. Very satisfying.”
“But why?” Quill said.
“Do you mean why was the fete’s bank account targeted? Who knows? These big-time hackers plant roaming bugs in the management information systems of all the big banks if they can. One of the hazards of doing business in the twenty-first century.”
“The Hemlock Falls Savings and Loan isn’t a big bank. It’s a little local bank. And why just that account? Mark Anthony Jefferson hasn’t said anything about any other money being stolen, has he?”
Althea shrugged. “Not that I know of, no. You don’t know these hackers, Quill. There’s a lot of different ways to raid a system. You’ll probably never know why. It’s done. Let’s forget it. We’ve got a murder to solve.”
“I think the two crimes are linked.”
“How could they be?!” She cocked her head and sucked her lower lip, deep in thought. “I’ll tell what’s going on. You’re an artist. You look at objects, people, things, whatever, and you see a pattern that nobody else can see. You put it on canvas and wham! Suddenly everyone else sees it, too. This is different. This is real people doing real stuff and real stuff is random.”
“Maybe,” Quill said doubtfully. “I don’t trust coincidence, myself.”
“Happens all the time. Your guys are doing the right thing sending this off to the fraud unit. You should be happy this is settled. The town gets its money back. Adela’s back on point with the fete. Case closed. On to the next one—the mysterious murder of your event coordinator. Shall we go talk to cops now? See what we can shake out of them? Or maybe we can go out to Peterson Automotive so I can sneak that laptop back into Brady’s office.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” Quill said earnestly. “Maybe we could put the investigation on hold for today? I really have to see Howie Murchison about a legal matter. Why don’t you and Nolan take the day off? Maybe go on one of the winery tours. You’ve been so involved with helping with the fete, you two haven’t had any vacation at all. Nolan is just a dear man. I hate to say it, Althea, but you’ve been leaving him alone an awful lot, lately.”
Althea raised her head and inhaled the fresh spring air. “You know, you’re right. It’s a lovely day and Nolan would love a drive. No need to take me up to the Inn. I’ll walk on down to the coffee shop and give Nolan a call. He can swoop down and carry me off to a wine tasting. We’ll make a nice afternoon of it. You go see what you can coax out of Davy Kiddermeister. Might be a lot easier with me somewhere else, anyway. It’s in that direction? Balzac Café?”
“Just one block down and turn right.”
Quill waited until Althea disappeared down the block, locked the Honda, and then walked around to the rear of the municipal building to the sheriff’s office. Davy’s cruiser was parked in its reserved spot. She hoped Davy was in and not tied up in traffic court.
The main entrance was a heavy metal fire door. A tiny window, heavily barred, let a small amount of light into the office proper. Quill dragged the door open and went in.
She always felt a stab of nostalgia in the place. It wasn’t that much different from other sheriff’s offices throughout upstate and central New York, but it was where she’d first met Myles, all those years ago. The floor was industrial-grade vinyl and smelled like Pine-Sol. The dispatcher’s desk was up front. Behind it, past a hip-high wooden barrier that reminded her of a baby guard, was Myles’s old steel desk, with Davy in Myles’s chair instead of Myles himself.
“Hey, Davy.”
“Hey, Quill.
“Where’s your dispatcher?”
“Early lunch. You heard about Marge’s computer tech?”
“The fete account got hacked by a hacker or hackers unknown. Yes, I heard about it. Do you think that’s what really happened?”
“Why not? Hacking’s got the fastest rising crime rate in the nation. No reason why it can’t happen here. Case isn’t closed, but as far as I’m concerned, it’ll wrap when the fraud unit in Albany gets back to me. Nothing else for either one of us to do except wait.” He propped his feet up on the desk and grinned at her. “Now, there wouldn’t be any other reason why you’re here, would there?”
She knew that look. “Myles called you, didn’t he?”
“Not called, no. I got a pretty pointed e-mail, though.”
A metal folding chair stood next to the gate in the wooden barricade. Quill grabbed the chair and sat down. “He probably told you he was interested in the name of Linda Connelly’s associates.”
“That he did. He said he shouldn’t have asked you to check the names out. He also said…”
Quill held her hand up. “I can guess what he said. I’m not investigating this murder.”
“But I’d just like the answers to a couple of questions.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.” She thought of Marge’s comment—was it only two days ago?—something funny’s going on in the village. “I’ve just come from a meeting of the fete committee. Adela’s back in.”
“Good.” He slapped the manila file folder that lay in front of him. “Marge e-mailed a copy of her tech guy’s report to me this morning, first thing. I sent it on to Albany. I don’t really understand this stuff, to tell you the truth, but Marge said Adela’s probably in the clear. Unless Albany tells me I have enough to push the case further, it’s going in the pending dismissal file. I figure I’ll hear from them, oh, maybe next year sometime at the earliest.”
“But Adela’s still under a cloud.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“And there’s a dead woman in the morgue somewhere in Syracuse.”
“No connection to the fete’s missing money?”
“Uh-huh,” Quill said skeptically. “The state troopers are on this one, right?”
“It’s just inside their jurisdiction, yeah.”
“And that means Lieutenant Harker.”
Davy made a sound like “t’cha.” Then, “That jerk, yeah.”
“Is he copying you in on the investigation?”
“Yeah, but only because…” Davy’s cheeks turned bright red.
“Because he’s got a couple of suspects from Hemlock Falls. Who?”
“You know Harker.”
“I sure do. Mean as a snake and twice as treacherous. Let me help, Davy. Between the two of us, we know almost everybody in town. We can track things down Harker never takes the time to do, or, if you’ll forgive me, the intelligence to contemplate. The sooner the real killer’s found, the better. Then Harker’s out of everybody’s hair.”
Davy sighed. “All right. There’s stuff you can do that I can’t. My hands are tied a lot of the time, and there’s no question you can help. But just on the QT, okay? I like my job; I want to keep it.” He swiveled in his chair and tapped at his keyboard. “Harker made notes of possible motives, which is stupid, because motive isn’t evidence. Motive doesn’t mean squat in court and motive isn’t going to…anyway…here we go. This is Harker’s idea of who to look at. Harvey Bozzel: revenge, thought he should have the vic’s job.” He looked up at Quill. “The vic meaning Ms. Connelly.”
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