by Lynn Bohart
“Why? What’s going on now?”
I turned to find the fourth member of our book club, Blair Wentworth, standing in the doorway. She was married to an import car dealer and usually drove up in one of her husband’s sports cars, so I was surprised I hadn’t heard her roar into the parking lot.
“What were Mutt and Jeff doing here?” she asked, referring to the detectives. “Sorry, Julia,” she quickly added, acknowledging my feelings for Detective Franks.
I sighed and stood up. “I need either caffeine or alcohol first. Anyone care to join me?”
I strode past Blair, whose inquisitive, sky blue eyes glanced at Doe and Rudy. The three of them followed me towards the kitchen.
As Blair passed Mr. Mulford, she murmured, “Good morning, Mr. Mulford. You’re looking quite festive with that plaid scarf around your neck.”
Mr. Mulford had just put on his coat and almost tripped over the table leg as he turned to acknowledge Blair. His face flushed, and he nodded three times, like a hen pecking for food.
“Th…thank you, Mrs.…Mrs. Wentworth,” he stuttered. “You’re looking…quite…quite…”
Blair flashed him a brilliant smile and stripped off her coat, exposing a deep blue cashmere sweater, stretched tightly over her breasts. “Oh, Mr. Mulford, I know what you mean,” she said shyly. “Thank you ever so much.”
The poor man’s eyes practically teared-up because he was staring so hard at her chest. At sixty-two, Blair was the youngest of our group. While we all tried to keep fit, Blair actually worked at it. And what she couldn’t accomplish on her own, she paid someone else to accomplish for her. The result was a body that looked like it belonged to an eighteen-year old, or close to it. She knew it and flaunted it whenever possible.
Once she had Mr. Mulford’s undivided attention, she whirled around and waltzed through the kitchen door, which I was holding open for her.
“Perfect example of why I nicknamed you ‘Catnip,’” I said, letting the door swing shut behind her. “You do that on purpose. He might have a weak heart, you know.”
She smiled demurely. “Ah, men will be men at any age,” she said proudly, throwing her coat and purse over a hook on the wall. “Now, c’mon, you guys. Don’t keep me in the dark. What’s going on?”
“You may wish you didn’t know,” Rudy said.
“Someone tried to kill Dana Finkle,” I said, going to the refrigerator.
I pulled out a bottle of Diet Pepsi, my caffeine of choice, and then grabbed a large glass out of a cupboard.
“So?” Blair quipped, going for a glass of her own. “Too bad they didn’t succeed.”
I stopped and gave Blair a warning look. “No, Blair. Whoever it was succeeded in killing Trudy Bascom instead.”
Blair stopped with her glass halfway out of the cupboard. “You’ve got to be kidding. Wasn’t that her campaign assistant?” She threw a fearful glance in the direction of Rudy and Doe, who merely nodded to confirm the information. Blair put her glass back, went to the cupboard in the corner and grabbed a wine glass. “Alcohol it is.”
“And what’s more,” Doe said. “They think Julia had something to do with it.”
“What? Why?” Blair asked, turning to me.
I took my glass of Pepsi to the table. Blair crossed to the refrigerator and found an open bottle of white wine. She brought it to the table and poured herself a glass.
“Anyone else?” she said.
“Too early for me,” Rudy said.
The main kitchen at the Inn, though large and functional, often made me feel as if someone had just hugged me, it was that cozy. Distressed white cabinetry framed the room, while a marble-topped center island provided a gathering place in the middle. A butcher-block farmhouse table sat in front of a bank of cottage windows that overlooked the back deck and lake beyond. At the far end of the kitchen was the original arched fireplace we’d filled with artificial flowers. Above that were wooden letters that read, “Let’s Eat.”
Rudy sat down at the table with her back to the window, while Doe went to a cupboard and pulled out a mug. She proceeded to make herself tea. The girls knew the kitchen almost as well as I did, and knew they were welcome to anything I had.
“Someone tried to lure Dana to the library last night by sending her a message from Julia’s email account,” Rudy said.
“Really? Can they do that?” Blair asked.
“Hacking people’s emails is very common,” Rudy replied. “By the way, I suspect they’ll figure that out pretty quickly, Julia.”
“I know,” I said.
I sat with my Pepsi gazing out at the lake. There were puffy gray clouds hanging over the water, with patches of blue sky peeking through. A light breeze flapped the green awning that extended out past the back door. No one was on the lake. It was too cold. But I was thinking of Martha and Ellen, and now Trudy.
“You know, everyone expects to start losing people they know as they get older, but not like this. What happened to cancer, heart disease, or just old age?”
As I stared out the window, a familiar figure crossed in front of it. My business partner, April, came through the back door, dressed in a heavy sweater, turtleneck and loose-fitting jeans. She took one look at me and said, “You’re looking pensive.”
She was carrying a bakery box and still wore her apron. While I handled the antique side of the business, April was our cook and first-class baker. She had her braided hair pulled back in a clip, and wore a little flour on her chin for good measure, which stood out in stark contrast to her ebony skin. She crossed to the counter and pushed the bakery box up against the backsplash.
“Bad news?” she asked, turning toward me. “You’re all looking pretty grim.”
“Did you know Trudy Bascom? The woman who agreed to be Dana’s campaign assistant?” I asked her.
“No. Why?”
“She’s dead. Murdered.”
April glanced from me, to Rudy, to Doe and then to Blair. Blair just held up her glass of wine in a fake toast.
“What happened?” she asked.
I explained what little we knew about the case, while the big grandfather clock by the front door chimed the half hour.
“So, here we go again,” April said, leaning back against the marble-topped island.
“Yep,” Rudy chirped. “The boys just left with every computer Julia has.”
“That had to be awkward,” April said.
“To say the least,” I replied. “So much for dating a police officer.” I took a long drink of Pepsi.
“That’s right. We never even got to hear how it went last night,” Doe said. “How was the date?”
I swallowed, shrugged and sat back in the chair. “Fine, if you consider going from a 007-type, action-packed movie, to a pile-up in the main dining room at the Mercerwood Shore Club, to a dead body at the library as fodder for a romantic date.”
“Pile-up at the Mercerwood Shore Club?” Rudy asked, creasing her brows. “You didn’t trip while you were dancing down the yellow brick road, I hope.”
I glanced at her. Rudy didn’t like it when I found ways to interject my favorite movie into otherwise boring situations, so I was surprised that she had done it herself.
“No. Nothing like that. There was just a little accident at the restaurant as I got up to go to the ladies’ room.”
Everyone relaxed with a collective, “Ahhh.”
Before I could take umbrage with their reactions, Rudy said. “I take it the date was cut short?”
“You could say that,” I replied. “David got called to the crime scene. And now I’m back under suspicion. I can’t catch a break. Somehow I don’t think it’s going to look good on his personnel record if David is dating someone who keeps getting implicated in murder investigations.”
Doe chuckled. “He’s a big boy.”
“Yeah, but Julia hasn’t had a chance yet to find out how big,” Blair said wistfully.
“Blair!” Rudy snapped.
“What I mea
nt,” Doe said, shooting Blair a severe look, “was that I think he can handle himself.” She suddenly pointed an accusing finger at Blair. “And don’t even think about making a joke out of that.”
Blair’s eyes glimmered, but she merely took a sip of wine.
“Besides,” Doe continued, “they’ll clear you very quickly, Julia.”
“Well, I refuse to be intimidated this time. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it…even though God knows I’ve thought of killing Dana many times myself.”
April pushed off the counter and turned for the sink. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”
“Are you kidding me? Everyone knows I hate her. And don’t forget the little moment we had at the Christmas Eve party. Don’t you remember when Dana and I were standing in front of Ahab’s cage, and he shouted out, ‘I’d like to kill Dana Finkle?’”
Dana had actually come uninvited to our annual Christmas Eve party, saying that she was there at the request of Mayor Frum, whom she thought would endorse her campaign. When Ahab squawked the threat, she had openly accused me of teaching him how to say it. I hadn’t. But Dana never let facts get in the way of what she believed.
“Let’s face it,” I said. “If the police try to find motive when they’re solving a murder related to Dana Finkle, I’m looking good for it. I just wish I knew who was trying to set me up.”
I glanced over at April, who was putting chocolate chip cookies into an airtight container. She was my best friend and one of the most beautiful women I knew. She had rich, dark skin, big expressive eyes, and hair she liked to wear in corn rows, accented with colorful beads.
She also happened to have a finely tuned sixth sense. She often answered the phone before it rang, told me there was someone at the door before anyone knocked, and sensed the moment someone passed over.
I eyed her now, wondering what she might know. She seemed to recognize the pause floating in the air and turned. We were all staring at her expectantly.
“No,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know anything, but maybe you’ve heard from your mother, Julia.”
She turned back to the counter, but her comment about my mother got everyone’s attention. That would be because my mother was also dead. Since the St. Claire Inn was haunted, and my mother had died there, I had always thought I might see her ghost at some point. But I have to admit that even I was shocked when she contacted me back in December by calling me on her cell phone. It was unnerving to say the least.
“No. I haven’t heard from my mother,” I said. “Maybe she’s finally made it all the way to the other side.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” April said. “By the way, how’s the campaign coming?” she asked, closing up the Tupperware canister.
I shrugged. “We haven’t even started yet.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Blair said. “No one wants Dana to be mayor, anyway.”
“Yes, but now Dana will look sympathetic,” Doe said, bobbing her tea bag in the hot water. “After all, someone just tried to kill her.”
“Maybe she’ll drop out,” Rudy said with a conspiratorial roll of her eyes.
“Maybe someone’s trying to get me to drop out, and that’s why they tried to frame me,” I said.
“Oh my!” Blair exclaimed. “Maybe Dana set this whole thing up.”
“Oh, pshaw,” April said with a swish of her hand. “This isn’t a campaign for President of the United States. It’s only mayor of a little town in Washington State. No one could actually believe that Julia or Dana would commit murder in order to win.”
“Maybe not, although I’m not sure I’d put it past Dana. And now, she’ll find a way to milk this for everything she can,” I said.
“Who in the world would actually care enough to kill Dana Finkle anyway?” April said, coming back to the table with a plate of cookies.
“Everyone!” the four of us said together.
We all looked at each other in surprise and then burst into laughter.
“Okay, it’s not really funny,” I said, trying to straighten out my smile. “Seriously,” I said with a cough. “Trudy was killed by mistake. That’s not a laughing matter.”
That short-circuited the mirth, and the room grew silent.
“Well, I have zucchini bread in the oven, so let me know if you need me for anything,” April said. She put a hand on my shoulder. “And don’t worry, this will all calm down shortly.”
A moment later, she left for the converted old horse barn out back, which we’d turned into a retail bakery and warehouse for our antiques. Rudy reached out and grabbed a cookie, just as we heard the sound of a bell tingling. It was the front door to the Inn opening and closing.
“I wonder who that could be,” I said.
”I’ll get you, my pretty! And your little dog, too!” Ahab squawked loudly from the other room.
And just as if we had been watching a rerun of the Wizard of Oz, the Wicked Witch of the West blew into my kitchen.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Julia, I want an explanation!”
The dogs streaked across the room, barking and yapping at a pair of stubby feet encased in heavy boots. It was Dana Finkle in all her amphibian splendor. I say that because she’s not much taller than me, is built like a box, has thick folds at her neck and large, fleshy lips. To me, she looks like a toad. And right now the dogs had her backed up against the wall, her eyes bulging.
“Call them off!” she screamed.
The girls and I looked at each other in surprise. Miniature Dachshunds only weigh about nine to ten pounds.
“Mickey! Minnie!” I commanded. I clapped my hands, and they stopped and turned to me. “Go lie down,” I said, snapping my fingers. I pointed to their dog bed.
Mickey threw a final bark over his shoulder at Dana, and then the two scuttled over to the corner, their little nails clicking on the hardwood floor.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
Dana slid off the wall, her muscles relaxing, but her eyes never left the dogs, who were watching her with interest from the dog bed.
“Now, what do you mean?” I said, taking in her outfit with a quick sweep of my eyes.
She was dressed in bright red wool slacks and a purple and white checked sweater, with a yellow scarf tied around her thick neck. Over all of that, she was wearing a peacock blue wool coat. I had no idea where she got her fashion sense, but the entire image made me a little nauseous.
“It’s your fault, isn’t it?” she said, turning her attention away from the dogs. “I mean, Trudy has been murdered, and it was your note that drew her to the library.”
“No, Dana,” I said, glaring at her. “You sent her to the library. The note was meant for you!” I said, realizing too late that it sounded as if I really had sent the email.
“So you admit that you sent the message?” she spat, pointing a short, dark lacquered fingernail at me.
Good God! She painted her fingernails black.
“No, of course not,” I said, bringing my attention back to the conversation.
Just then, Crystal came in from the front desk. “Julia, there’s a phone call for you.”
I reached for my cell phone, and then remembered that David had taken it. So I followed Crystal to the front desk. I picked up the land line. It was David. “Hello, David,” I said tentatively.
“You’re off the hook,” he said. “Our tech guys said your email was hacked.”
“Thank God,” I said with a deep sigh. “Can they tell who did it?”
“Not yet. They’re backtracking through the system now. But we’ve been assured that it wasn’t you. I’ll let you know when I have more information, and I’ll get everything back to you this afternoon.”
“Thanks. I know you were just doing your job. Sorry if I was short with you this morning.”
“Hey, no problem,” he said quietly. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I hung up. I returned to the kitchen where four sets of eyes were staring at me.
“Well?” Dana croaked.
“They’ve cleared me,” I said with relief. “Someone hacked my email account.”
“I knew it!” Rudy said, slapping the table.
“That’s great,” Doe said.
“But too bad for you,” Blair said to Dana as she took a sip of wine.
“Why do you say that?” Dana asked, glaring at Blair.
“Because now you don’t know who’s trying to kill you,” she replied, allowing a hint of triumph to seep into her voice.
Dana turned back to me. “Then you need to help me. Someone is still out there. And they want me dead.”
“Needle in a haystack,” Rudy murmured, studying her fingernails.
I shot Rudy an exasperated glance. “Dana, it’s in the hands of the police. They’ll find out who did it.”
“No,” she said, stomping her foot and jiggling the flab around her neck. “You owe me.”
“Why does Julia owe you anything?” Rudy said, as she stood and came around the table with her fists clenched. “Why should any of us help you?”
Rudy had been an athlete in college and still played on the senior fast pitch team. Even with a titanium knee, she was fit as a fiddle. And her brusque manner could be intimidating. Dana backed up a step.
“Because everyone knows you all hate me,” she said, dialing back the previous demand in her voice. “You have tremendous influence on this island. Especially you, Julia,” she said, turning to me. “Clearly someone is following your lead.”
“What?” Doe and Blair said, both rising from their chairs.
Dana backed up another step.
“Wait,” I said with a raised hand. “Maybe she’s right.”
“Oh, c’mon, Julia,” Doe exclaimed. “You don’t owe her anything.”
But I was staring at Dana, my mind racing. “I’ll make you a deal,” I said.
Those double-lidded eyes blinked warily. “What deal?”
“If we help you, you’ll agree to drop out of the mayor’s race.”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed again. “This is all about the race. You just want to win.”
“No,” I said, raising a hand to stop her. “If you drop out of the race…then so will I.”