A Midsummer Night's Scream jj-15

by Jill Churchill

  "Hmm. I hadn't thought of that," Shelley said. "I suppose it could even happen to you if you were to be listed on the site. You haven't heard from Ms. Silverstone yet, have you?"

  "Not yet."

  "I'm sure you'll hear from her soon."

  "Things in publishing sometimes go very slowly, I think. Especially in August and December. And there are still two other agents who are the heads of their agencies and specialize in selling mysteries."

  "Are you interested in seeing the whole dress rehearsal tonight?" Shelley asked.

  "Not especially. But if you want to, I'll stick it out. I'd like to see how the costumes and sets

  look, if nothing else. You drive this time. I'm starving for spring rolls and you'll get us there sooner."

  "But you already ordered them for lunch." "So? What's your point?" Jane asked.

  Mel's request to search pawnshops for old golf drivers paid off all too well. They had come in in droves. Eight of them at least. Three were clearly new. A waste of time. He took note of which officers had turned them in. The other five needed to be examined more closely. The more there were, the longer it was going to take. He looked them over and only sent three along to the experts.

  If positive results didn't come in, there were two more he'd have to submit. All of them as per his instructions had been bagged and the searchers had tried to find out, as best they could, who had pawned them and where they'd found them.

  Jane had eaten two whole appetizers — spring rolls and crab Rangoon, her favorites — and spicy orange-flavored Mongolian beef. Half of which she'd brought home. She'd also gone through four cups of jasmine tea. She stuffed the box with the leftovers in the fridge and nearly ran to the downstairs half-bath the moment she,reached home. As she came out, the phone started ringing.

  She glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was a New York City number.

  "Is this Jane Jeffry?"

  "Yes, this is she," Jane said breathlessly.

  "I'm Annie Silverstone. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

  Jane got a grip on herself and said, "Not at all. I've been hoping to hear from you."

  "I love this book, Ms. Jeffry."

  "Thank you. Please call me Jane, if you like."

  "Okay, Jane. And you'll call me Annie. I'd like to represent you. But I wanted to tell you how I work before we go any further. I don't expect my authors to sign a contract. I don't work with people I don't think I can trust. I've spoken to Felicity and she says you're honorable."

  "That's good of her to say that."

  Annie continued. "Most agents used to charge ten percent of what the author earned. In recent years, most have gone to fifteen percent. I stuck with going halfway between — I charge twelve and a half percent. But I also charge for a few other things, like FedExing advance reading copies to reviewers that the publisher doesn't send to. And I write contracts that save the foreign sales for us, when I can. I often send copies of books to overseas publishers as well."

  "That sounds fair to me. I'm so new at this that I didn't know what to ask," Jane admitted.

  "You'll learn fast. Now — you are writing another historical mystery, aren't you?"

  "I am. It's not about Priscilla, though."

  "That's good. It's hard with historical mysteries to keep one heroine perpetually involved in murder. When is this one set?"

  "Edwardian. I'm still researching. I have a vague outline and the first few chapters — at least I think right now that they're the first chapters."

  Jane was surprised at how calm she felt. Annie was leading her through this important discussion with skill and tact.

  "I'm sure we're going to work together well. Do you ever visit New York City?"

  "I haven't for a long time. But I could."

  "I'd like to meet you in person soon. And I'll need a bit about your background, anything you think would interest the marketing people or readers. Could you e-mail me something within the next week? Two hundred words or so."

  Jane smiled to herself. This was going to be easy, and it would probably surprise Annie to learn that Jane had grown up all over the world with her diplomat father and her mother and sister. She'd save the story about the French teacher who taught a bunch of twelve-year-olds to pick locks. That would be a good story to tell Annie when they met in person.

  "Would the middle of next month be a goodtime to meet?" Jane asked. "I'll have all my children back in school by then."

  "Perfect. We're going to make a great team. I'm so pleased at how professional you already seem to be. I especially liked that you answered the phone saying 'This is she.' Shows that you know your grammar. Let me know so I can schedule a lunch at a very expensive restaurant and a meeting with my staff."

  Mel felt obligated to attend Dennis Roth's funeral. Aside from Denny's parents and an elderly aunt and uncle, he was the only other mourner present. It was a short service and a short drive to the old cemetery. Mrs. Roth was stoic throughout both the funeral service and the burial. It fell to Mr. Roth to introduce Mel to the aunt and uncle.

  As they all headed toward their cars, Mrs. Roth said, "Detective VanDyne, your people missed something."

  "What do you mean?" he asked politely.

  She handed him a small blue cardboard envelope with a snap on it. He knew right away what it was. A safety-deposit box key.

  "Where was this?" he asked.

  "In a pocket you failed to notice in his billfold. We want to know what bank it's in, but you have better resources and staff to find that out. Frankly, we don't want to spend days calling banks."

  Mel tried to hide his fury. This was, indeed, a huge mistake. He'd find out who had gone through Denny's belongings and packed them up — and tear a strip off whoever it was. "Let me write down the box number on the key. I'll get back to you as fast as I can. I'm making this my first priority. I'll know what bank it's at and let you know before the day is out."

  Back at his office, he assigned four people to divvy up the names of every bank in the city, gave them the safety-deposit box number, and told them to personally call on every bank on their list and report back when they found the right one, which better be today.

  Then he went about finding out which officer had inventoried and boxed up Denny's belongings. He noticed that the billfold was listed. Ten dollars and twenty-seven cents in it. Two credit cards. Two call tags from a tailor, one coupon for a fast-food restaurant and another for fifty cents off on a local dry cleaner. A California driver's license, a picture of his parents with him as a teenager.

  A checkbook was also mentioned. Mel went down to where the four officers he'd assigned the chore of finding the bank were convening. He told them to continue but not to start out until he determined where the,checkbook was from.

  He called the officer who'd boxed Denny'sthings and told him to come directly to his office immediately.

  The officer who'd signed the inventory was there in minutes, looking terrified. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

  "Yes, I do. You missed something very important in boxing up Dennis Roth's belongings. Who else was observing you doing this?"

  "Another officer, Robert Wilson, who wrote down everything, and the manager of the apartment. Both signed the inventory. What did we miss, if you don't mind telling me, sir?"

  "A blue cardboard envelope in a pocket of his billfold. A safety-deposit box key was in it, and there was also a checkbook. You didn't write down what bank the checkbook was from."

  "But I remember, sir. I'm sorry I messed up. The bank was the one closest to the college." He gave Mel the name of the bank.

  Mel indicated that the officer stay where he was seated, and went down to the workroom where the four officers were still sorting through banks by zip code for efficiency's sake. "One of you start with the bank closest to the college, would you? It might save a lot of hunting."

  He went back to his office, where the officer who'd botched the inventory was pacing nervously. "You'll stay here until we know if the safe
ty-deposit box is in the same bank. And you'll do a much better, more thorough job the next

  time, won't you? You did search all the pockets of his clothing, I see. If it's the wrong bank, you'll join the other four officers still sorting banks by zip code in room 4B."

  Twenty-three

  Jane called Mel at his office to tell him about choosing an agent.

  He cut her off. "Janey, I'm waiting for an important call on this line. May I get back to you when I'm free?"

  "Sure." Jane wasn't offended. She knew when he was this curt, something crucial was happening. Instead she called Shelley to tell her about the conversation with Annie Silverstone.

  "You didn't ask what other authors she worked with?" Shelley asked.

  "I'll find out eventually. I really liked how she explained her policies. I have Felicity's e-mail address. I'll tell her about this later. Annie wanted two hundred words about my background and interests to send along with the manuscript for Melody to show the marketing people. I need to write it up today."

  "Your background is going to surprise them, I'll bet."

  "There's another thing I forgot to tell you. Annie wants me to come to New York soon to meet her staff. Want to come with me? We could do some really good shopping and eating."

  "That sounds wonderful." Shelley said. "We better set a date and I'll make the plane reservations. Paul has thousands of frequent-flier miles we can use to fly first-class both ways. Have you told Mel about this yet?"

  "I tried, but he hung up on me. Something important is going on."

  "Did he give you a hint?"

  "No. And I didn't dare ask. Are your caterers ready for dealing with a mob? Is it a snack-supper-type thing?" Jane asked.

  "No. More like cocktail party snacks. It's later than usual and the students will have time to feed themselves. Not that they aren't welcome to eat. I've ordered extra things that you and I like. Re-heatable, so we can bring any extras home."

  "Do we need to dress up? I've been wearing jeans or jean skirts so far."

  "I intend to be a little more dressy this evening," Shelley replied. "Just because of Evelyn Chance's extra guests who contributed to the college to fund this. Some of them might be businesspeople who know Paul."

  Jane interpreted this to mean, at the least, trousers with a good blouse, and a jacket or a light sweater and even a bit of jewelry.

  When they finished their talk, Jane went to her front hall closet, the staging area for her most recent dry cleaning. She was appalled at how many things were in there. She broke down and hauled them all upstairs, ripped off the flimsy plastic, and put them in her bedroom closet, pulling out a pair of good black slacks, a matching jacket, and a pink-and-white-striped shirt. Then she went to her jewelry case to rummage. There was a pinkish opal pin surrounded by silver filigree that needed polishing. And a matching ring. These would look good if they were clean, but she didn't want to waste time polishing them up. She'd just wear her best watch.

  She went to the computer station she'd set up on a secondhand small desk that she'd actually refinished herself — almost competently. She wrote up her bio and figured out how to do a word count and was shocked to discover that the bio was 427 words long. There wasn't anything she wanted to cut. And it wasn't as witty and charming as she'd expected it to be. She didn't even save the file. She'd have to start over.

  As she rose from the desk to pace around the bedroom while she mentally composed a better bio, she spotted Max, her black, white, and gray cat — the equal-opportunity shedder — washing his paws while reclining on her black trousers. At least he hadn't started to sharpen his claws on the fabric.

  * * *

  Mel called the Roths' hotel number and said, "I have a court order from a judge to open your son's safety-deposit box. I'm sorry it took me a while, but it was the only way to do it. Neither you nor your wife are signers on the box, so I have to use the document and key. Would you like to meet me at the bank around the corner from the college campus?"

  This question flummoxed Harry Roth. He had to write the directions down to the last detail. "I suppose we should be there. I can't imagine what was so important to Denny to hide it away like this. But Aggie and I would like to know. And close out the box so we're not billed."

  Mel was surprised that the cost of the box was as great a concern as what was in it. For people who could take month-long vacations, the price of a safety-deposit box shouldn't have mattered.

  The bank employee put in her key and turned it. Mel did the same with one that had been found in Denny's billfold. The bank employee left the room.

  Mel pulled a bag of latex gloves out of his briefcase and cut it open.

  "What are you doing that for?" Mrs. Roth asked.

  "Fingerprints. We have no idea what documents are in here. I'll have to look at them first, if that's all right with you." His tone made it clearthat this was the way it would be done no matter what their answer was.

  Harry said, "It's okay with me."

  Mel pulled out the small box, took one of the enclosures, opened it, and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. He opened the smaller one with a pair of tweezers he'd pulled out of his pocket. He turned to the Roths. "It's his original birth certificate with names of his birth parents. Do you want to read it?"

  Harry was firm. "No. We didn't want to know that when we adopted him and we still don't want to know."

  Mrs. Roth hesitated, looking at her husband for a long moment. Then said, "I agree. But what is the other paper?"

  "It's a photocopy of the same thing. Without the seal. I'll need to keep both of these. If you change your minds sometime, I can provide them to you." He put the documents in a large envelope.

  There was another packet at the back of the box — a fat unsealed envelope — which Mel gingerly opened with the tweezers. It was full of cash. He also put this in his envelope. "There's quite a bit of cash," Mel told the Roths. "I'll need to have it fingerprinted before turning it over to you.

  "How much cash?" Mrs. Roth asked.

  "After it's fingerprinted, I'll have it counted in the presence of myself and two other witnesses

  and let you know how much it is as soon as I can. Would you like it converted into a cashier's check and sent to you via FedEx with copies of the witnesses' signatures?"

  "How will we know that some of it hasn't gone missing before being counted?" Mrs. Roth asked.

  "You'll know because I'm not going to steal it. I'm an honorable person."

  Mel removed his gloves and threw them in a handy wastebasket. He put the box back into the slot and turned the key, handing it to Mr. Roth.

  "You can take this back to the woman waiting outside the room and I'll sign off on the box."

  As it turned out, Denny had already paid for a six-month rental and had only opened the account a month earlier, so the woman in charge gave him a refund check, which he made a copy of and signed over to the Roths.

  "I'll be back in touch with you as soon as these are processed."

  "Processed? What do you mean?" Mrs. Roth asked curtly.

  "Studied for fingerprints, as I already told you," Mel replied just as sharply.

  He walked out of the bank, already on his cell phone, and left them to find their way back to their hotel.

  Shelley drove her minivan to the dress rehearsal because she wanted to see that the cocktail snacks

  were being set up well before anyone else arrived. She was immediately impressed with this caterer. There were half a dozen workers, all in clean pressed white shirts, black trousers, and red bow ties. They all wore clean white gloves. They had set up several steel containers over Sterno candles. The containers were all lidded.

  Plates of cold food covered with plastic wrap were also put out on the serving tables they'd set up, which were draped in the same red as their ties. There was no seating for the guests. But small trash cans were set up all around the perimeter of the lobby. The forks and spoons laid out were of sturdy silver-colored plastic. The
head chef was wandering around supervising, reminding all his employees to smile.

  Shelley greeted him and asked if she could look behind the tables. The owner himself lifted the draping to show her the shelves below holding extra containers of food.

  There were small canapés with smoked salmon, tuna salad, or seared vegetables, topped with tiny blobs of caviar, and an equal number without the caviar for those who didn't like it. Attendees weren't allowed to serve themselves the caviar. There were servings of delicious-smelling sausages with parsley, and several sauces for them in small white dishes with little spoons.

  Several of the heated dishes were mixed vegetables cut cleverly, and there was one of Jane's

  favorite dishes — scalloped potatoes, with a dusting of paprika. In addition, there was a vast assortment of rolls. Some with salt, some with caraway seeds, some with celery seed, and many plain. The desserts were still in the trucks, being kept hot or cold as needed, the owner explained.

  The napkins were generously sized and looked almost like real cloth. They were stamped with red stars. Shelley was impressed.

  Jane had eaten at home before dressing and arrived shortly after Shelley. She was followed by members of the cast and crew and the honored guests Evelyn Chance had invited. The servers greeted them with smiles and started serving.

  "This whole room smells heavenly," Jane said to Shelley. "I've already eaten but the aroma is making me hungry again."

  Mel soon arrived, and Professor Imry came last. The doors were then locked to prevent casual pedestrians from joining the party.

  A separate table was set up for drinks. Everyone had been given a chit for one free drink, and a list of the cost for second rounds was posted behind the table. Jane used her chit for a Coke. Shelley opted for white wine.

  Mel, apologizing to Jane for cutting her short on the phone earlier, went through the buffet line with her. He kept his conversation bland and cheerful, and so did Jane.