I almost held my breath. “What did he look like?”
She thought back. “Thin, very thin. Not tall. Pale with only a few bits of hair, you know, combed over. Old.”
Old? “How old?”
“Really old. Fifty? At least. Maybe even more.” She shivered at the dual nightmare of advanced age and comb-over.
“Do you know him?”
“Not his name. But I’ve seen him around.”
“Around here?”
“No. Not at the fair and not in Grandville. I’m pretty sure this guy lives in Harrison Falls too, because I’ve seen him recently when I was visiting my dad’s place. I’ve seen him all over town.”
“All over town?”
“Sure. He’s a mailman. He’s not my mailman, but I’ve seen him walking his route. I don’t know his name, though.”
The door opened again and Nancilee gave us the stink eye. “Now would be good,” she said with an unflattering snarl.
The girl flinched, but stood up to go.
“Wait,” I said as she squeezed past me, knocking over a package of serviettes. “I need to know—”
Too late. She had hobbled out, and as I followed her, I noticed that people were pointing in my direction. Nancilee began to advance toward me, menace in her every stiletto-heeled step. I said, “How can I reach you. What’s your cell number?”
As she rattled off the number, I tapped it into my contact list, while Nancilee gave the impression her hair was about to catch fire. I thrust my business card into the girl’s hand.
“Please call me. I’m—”
“Sure. Everyone knows who you are,” she said. “You’re Jordan whatever, and you work for that woman.”
The loathing for Vera was unmistakable. Was I the only person in the world, aside from Signora Panetone, and possibly Eddie, who didn’t detest Vera Van Alst? For all I knew, her doctor hated her.
I had no time to find out why the Yummers girl did. I dashed out the door one step ahead of the vengeance of Nancilee. I raced across the grass and into the baking oven that was the Saab. I rolled down the window and took off like a shot. I spotted Nancilee glaring at me, hands on her designer hips, as I rocketed off the property.
Of course, I didn’t go far. There was still much to find out from the girl at Yummers. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to ask her name. The sight of her facial injuries must have zapped my brain. I’d make sure to find it out at the start of our next conversation, as soon as that was possible. I just had to find somewhere cool to hide out until the networking reception was over and Nancilee had gone back to Witch Central. I estimated an hour and a half.
The Saab was hot in more ways than one. I used the time to whip back to Harrison Falls with a plan to borrow one of my Uncle Lucky’s spare vehicles. The Saab was too much of a statement. As I walked into Uncle Mick’s place, I tucked my hair into a ponytail and snatched up a baseball cap, “Sid’s Moving and Storage” this time. The Saab could cool off in the garage while I chilled in the air-conditioned interior of Uncle Lucky’s car.
My uncles looked on with interest. Uncle Mick was setting the table and getting ready for our family favorite for days when it’s too hot to open a tin: KFC with creamy cole slaw and macaroni salad. Fries too, but that goes without saying.
Walter was eying his bowl on the floor and gazing at Uncle Lucky with what looked like adoration. One less thing for me to worry about.
I said, “Does every single person in Harrison Falls hate Vera Van Alst?”
Lucky nodded gravely.
Mick said, “Not just Harrison Falls, my girl. Staying for dinner? There’s plenty. Got to keep your strength up.”
Not to be deflected, I said, “But Vera Van Alst, why? Why this antagonism?”
“And she’s such a warm and friendly lady, you mean?”
Lucky snorted at Uncle Mick’s words, and scratched Walter’s cute and velvety ears.
“Fair enough,” I said, “she has all the warmth of a cobra. But she stays in her deteriorating old home and doesn’t do anything to bother anyone, except me, perhaps. So why the visceral reactions?”
“Watch it with the hoity-toity words at the table. You know that Lucky doesn’t care for pretense.”
I let that go even though everyone in my family cares deeply for pretense. “Why does everyone hate her?”
“Not her per se,” Mick said. “Sure you won’t have just a drumstick?”
“What do you mean, not her per se?”
“Well, it’s the family, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“Of course, it is.”
“But what family?”
“The Van Alsts, of course. Have you been out in the sun too long?”
“But she’s the only Van Alst left, isn’t she? So she’s the family. So what do people have against her?”
“When the business closed, a lot of people lost their jobs. The local economy took a real hit. And we Kellys paid a price too, you know. Didn’t we, Lucky?”
There it was. Pretty much the same thing that Lance had said. And pretty much what I’d known all along. I couldn’t help feeling that there was more to it than that.
“Vera’s paid a price too,” I said.
“So how come she got off so easy over there in her mansion with all her servants living the high life when so many people lost everything?”
I couldn’t let that go unchallenged. “The high life? Oh please. She’s in a wheelchair, practically dressed in rags and never leaves the house. I don’t know how easy that is.”
I decided not to mention that Vera seemed to be selling off paintings and furniture to keep her collection going and everything seemed to be maintained by one elderly servant and one aging gardener and handyman. Except for the library, my garret was the best part of the whole place. I didn’t see any of that creating sympathy.
Lucky shrugged. Uncle Mick rolled his eyes. “You asked me and I’m telling you. That’s how people feel. You can’t tell people how to feel. The whole reason she has you is that you can go out and meet people and they won’t hate you.”
“That’s no longer completely true,” I said.
“Well, they won’t hate you because you’re Jordan. Everyone likes you.”
“Not everyone, but thanks for the vote of confidence, Uncle Mick. Could I borrow a car, Uncle Lucky?”
Mick said, “You know he never refuses you. Which one?”
Sometimes I have to wonder if Lucky would speak for himself if Uncle Mick the Mouth wasn’t on the job all the time. Lucky nodded his okay and went back to scratching Walter’s ears. The world really was full of surprises.
“One more thing,” I said. “I have to run now, but can you check the word on the street about the postal carrier in the Van Alst neighborhood? Eddie something, if that helps.”
“Eddie who?”
“No idea. How many postal Eddies can there be? I appreciate anything you turn up. Look for dirt. Bad debts, bad connections, bad habits. I already know about the bad hair.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I FIGURED THAT anyone watching might have seen Lucky driving the Town Car during our sleight of wheels earlier, so I took the Lincoln Navigator that Lucky keeps for large jobs. It’s a big vehicle for a big man, but I found it fun to drive and it wouldn’t be recognized back at Saint Sebastian’s if I ran into Nancilee. Plus it was not registered under any Kelly or Bingham name. Best of all, it had a great air-conditioning system and, of course, the price was right.
I stopped off at the hospital to see how Karen Smith was doing and was shocked to discover they still had her in a drug-induced coma, waiting for the swelling in her brain to come down.
Outside Saint Sebastian’s Hall a fast ride later, I watched as the big-smiling networkers gradually pulled away. When only one car remained, I pulled in and ducked through the doors. The girl was lethargically closing up shop at Yummers. I guessed if I had two black eyes, I’d be moving slowly too.
“Give you a hand?” I s
aid.
She gasped.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have pounced like that.”
“Yeah, I’m jumpy.”
“The attack. I should have been more sensitive.”
“Not just the attack. Everything.”
“Everything?”
Her lip quivered. “My life is a mess. I am falling apart. My fiancé died and I’m having a lot of trouble dealing with it.”
“What? You mean when you were attacked?” No wonder she was terrified.
She shook her head. “Before. It was an accident.”
I stared at her. A dead fiancé? What were the chances? Was that too much of a coincidence? Could Alex Fine have been her fiancé?
“I am so sorry.” I might have given her a hug, but she looked like she hurt all over. “How awful for you. And him.”
She sniffed. I thought back to the newspaper photos of Ashley with Alex. Her face hadn’t been that clear. I did remember the shot of the donkey-faced girl with the big teeth. That photographer must have had it in for her because she looked far better in real life. Well, she had before the attack. Of course she was Alex’s fiancée. Alex would have frequented this book fair and any others held here at the hall, and she probably worked at all of them. It would have been hard for them to avoid each other. He’d been serious and shy, but it would have been easy for him to talk to the very ordinary girl behind the counter.
I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name.”
She blinked. “Ashley. Ashley Snell.”
“You were engaged to Alex Fine.”
She started to weep. I felt like a total jerk. I reached over and gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She sniffed and tried to pull herself together. I waited until she blew her nose. She still had a quaver in her voice when she asked, “Did you know him?”
“I feel like I did. You probably know I now have his research job.”
“With that horrible woman.”
“Yes.”
“I blame her for what happened to Alex.”
I said, “But she wasn’t anywhere near the—”
Ashley trembled, turned the color of plaster and nearly missed the chair she sank onto.
Before I could come up with some soothing comment, Ashley straightened her shoulders and said, “She wasn’t there, but she pushed Alex to get that stupid thing. She bullied him and she mocked him and she made his life miserable. That’s why he took such a chance.”
Maybe the answer to what happened to Alex was right here in this room. Alex would have met Karen and many other contacts. Maybe he’d even found the link to Merlin.
I said gently, “What chance did he take exactly?”
Ashley blew her nose again. “Are you serious? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
That was true.
She said, “He gave his life for whatever was in that computer bag. I told the police, but they didn’t listen to me.”
“Tell me, Ashley, does the name Merlin mean anything to you?”
“Merlin? How do you know about Merlin?”
I waited until she blew her nose again. It took her a while to compose herself. “Alex said we weren’t to say anything about Merlin. To anyone.”
“Did he say anything to anyone?”
She nodded, obviously trying to keep back a tidal wave of tears. Even though I also felt a flood of sympathy, I hoped those tears would hold off until she finished talking.
“Yes. He did.” A distinct wobble in her voice.
“Do you know why? Or who he spoke to?”
“He couldn’t tell me.”
“Can you take a guess?”
“Alex was very worried about Merlin. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I tried reassurance. “Well, whoever he is, this Merlin doesn’t know we’re having this talk.”
“I guess not. But he’s supposed to be like a magician, isn’t he?”
“Despite his reputation, he won’t know what we’re saying. We’re alone here.”
“I suppose Merlin the Magician is just in stories. But Alex wanted to buy something from him and he was really afraid that Merlin would change his mind. Merlin is very secretive. So Alex was very careful. I think he was worried that I’d blab it to somebody here at Yummers because I do a lot of events and I see a lot of people. Everyone knows I can’t keep a secret. I know it’s true. The book people love gossip. It goes like wildfire around here.”
I had a vision of the plush patterned carpet catching fire.
“Let me give you a hand closing up.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to be alone here. It’s creepy after what happened with the lady at the Cozy Corpse.”
“No kidding. We can get this done in a couple of minutes.”
I helped Ashley pack up the refreshments and clean the Yummers counters. “So, was Merlin the reason Alex went to New York City?”
She paused, looking me over as if to confirm she could really trust me. “I think so. He was going to see someone about something important. But of course, being Alex, he wouldn’t talk about it. Especially to mouthy me.”
“Is there anyone he would have spoken to?”
She paused, frowned. “I don’t think so. He didn’t work with anyone. He wouldn’t have told his parents. He didn’t tell me. He didn’t really have any close friends around here. I guess the only person who might have known is his boss.”
We stared at each other, because we both knew that we were talking about my boss.
She said, “I suppose you could always ask.”
“Judging by her behavior, I think he was acting on his own.”
“I guess.”
“I wonder if, after I spoke to her, Karen Smith made the connection about who might have told Alex about the manuscript. Maybe that’s what she was going to tell me.”
Ashley’s mouth dropped. “But even I didn’t know.”
“Would Karen have known about Merlin?”
Ashley took a second to consider that. “I suppose, but I don’t really think so. I’m not sure she and Alex ever knew each other except for Alex going by her booth. She wasn’t always one of the regular vendors here. I got the feeling that the contact knew that Alex was looking for something for Vera Van Alst. I’m sorry I’m not more help about that. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. How would I find you? Oh right. You gave me your card. I’m sorry. I guess I was kind of nasty to you then.”
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I can see why you were upset. But if you think of anything, please get in touch. Even though you are afraid to mention it, keep in mind that whoever attacked you was most likely the same person who almost killed Karen Smith.”
She paled. “That reminds me, what time was she attacked?”
“Around nine o’clock, Sunday night.”
Her hand shot to her face. “My attack happened around eight thirty. The police took me to emergency. I think I saw the ambulance bring that lady in. I sat there for about two hours, but they rushed her right by. Is she going to make it? She seemed so nice and harmless.”
That made me think. Was Karen Smith harmless? Or was she involved in some way in this whole crazy business? Had someone tried to kill her because she knew something? Or was her part more sinister and dangerous?
“I hope she’s going to make it, but there’s no way to know. You might not agree, after your attack, but you may have been the lucky one. Perhaps someone was trying to kill you too.”
Astonishment spread over her long face. “But why?”
“Perhaps he thought you might have seen something, some transaction between him and Karen. Something that you don’t realize is important.”
She gasped. “What if he needed to be alone to attack her? I was about to head back to the hall to see if there was anything left to do. I always check the facility when I’m done. The Saint Sebastian’s people are really fussy about everything being left perfect. If there are coffee cups or anything, I hear about it. The guy was
waiting for me as I got into my car, just by my apartment.”
“That makes sense in a twisted way. He also may have wanted to make sure you didn’t get back here and find Karen. If she hadn’t been found until the next morning, it might have been harder to pinpoint the time when she was attacked.”
Ashley shivered.
And she would have died alone, I added to myself.
I said, “If we’re right, that means that whoever did it planned both attacks.” I thought about what kind of person could have hit Karen on the head and moved her unconscious body, leaving her to die. It would be the same kind of person who could walk up to an unsuspecting girl and belt her in the face. “This is one very dangerous dude.”
“I know.” She pointed to her black eyes. “What if he’s still out there?”
“I’ll stay until you’re completely packed up, and I’ll walk you to your car. But—”
She beat me to the punch. “He knows where I live. He was waiting by my car.”
“And were you able to tell the police anything about what he looked like?”
“No. It was all a blur. He wasn’t very tall.”
“Could it have been a woman?”
She shook her head. “No. He moved like a man, but his head was covered with a hoodie. You know, the police didn’t get too excited about what happened to me. They kept insisting that my boyfriend did this. What boyfriend is that? That’s why I got so upset when you asked me the same thing. It sounds crazy, but I thought maybe you were an undercover cop or something, trying to get me to spill the beans on my dead fiancé or nonexistent boyfriend.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know any of that. But the danger is real and you must be connected somehow. Is there somewhere you can go until the police find out what’s going on?”
“I’m not too confident about them, but, yeah, I guess I can stay at my dad’s.”
“Maybe Karen Smith will regain consciousness, and then we’ll stand a chance of finding out who is behind this. In the meantime, you have to keep yourself safe. But before I go, can you tell me about the attack? I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you.”
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