Privy to Murder Page 3

  JT sat there with a scowl on his face.

  I stood up. “And why am I even explaining all this to you? Do you have anything pertinent to ask me?”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. You have more important stuff to do and you’re not going to help this investigation, obviously. Don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll be watching you.”

  I tripped over the leg of the chair as I left and stumbled out of the room like a drunk. So much for second impressions.

  * * *

  I spent the rest of Sunday napping, reading the paper. and recovering from the sleepless Saturday night. Monday morning, I visited my most reliable gossipy source of news at the Love Patriot News offices in a red brick storefront on the opposite side of the square from the courthouse. A bell on top of the door rang when the door was opened.

  Somehow I always expected a bustling newsroom full of guys in shirtsleeves with ties loosened and cigars hanging out of their mouths. So I watch too many old movies. Reality was platinum blonde Cherilyn Masters, Lifestyle Editor, her long legs shoved under a computer desk, typing away at one computer. The Sports Editor had an office on the left; the Chief Editor had the back office and seemed to be out, since the door was shut.

  She’d been at the paper for ten years, knew the ins and outs of the business. It still burned her that the company had hired a woman with half her experience as Chief Editor. The new woman was more into socializing than reporting. She spent a lot of time hanging around the courthouse pretending to look for news while she flirted with lawyers.

  Cherilyn looked up and smiled, tapping red nails on the desk. “Tali, I hear you’ve been causing trouble again and you’ve only been back six months. I knew I could count on you for news.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cher. I may never work in this town again. How are you? Surviving the new boss?”

  She stood up, towering over me, and I’m not short. “Still the optimist, I see. It’ll all work out, you know, always does, for both of us. Since you’re here and it’s ten in the morning, I bet you could use coffee, as could I. Editor-girl is out, so let’s boogie. There’s a new coffee shop down the street, The Perked Cup. They make a mean latte.”

  She grabbed her purse and pulled me behind her, like a puppy on a leash. Around the corner from the office, The Cup was in an older building. Its claims to fame were that it still had the original bar and that outlaws had come there when it was still a saloon. We sat at a front table, looking out the window, the intoxicating scent of good coffee cradling us.

  Cherilyn crossed her legs, demanded triple espresso, raised her eyebrows when I ordered a mocha latte, and leaned forward.

  “So. Give me the skinny on the party. What happened?”

  I filled her in with most of the details, leaving out the ghost part. “See what I mean about never working again? How many of Mag’s friends will hire me after the beloved hostess from my first party spent the evening complaining—and then was found murdered?

  “Mag’s cronies know how unreasonable she was. They also know they’ll have a hard time topping that shindig for years to come, especially if it gets out that Mumsie predicted the murder site.”

  I inhaled part of my latte. “I still feel sorry for her daughter. She looked sad during the party and now her mother is gone. At least she and Frank have each other.”

  Cherilyn shook her head. “Don’t let mousy little Donna fool you, she’s not as compliant as she seems, and she’s not Frank’s. Mag was married before and so was Frank. She wasn’t close to her daughter because the ex had custody. Donna only moved in recently. Mag and Frank both had almost grown kids when they married each other.”

  “Really? No wonder Mag was so skittish when he flirted with everyone else. Nothing like middle-aged anxiety. I’d just assumed they carried right on after high school.”

  “Just because Frank married, he never stopped flirting, playing the field. He’s always been a piece of work.”

  “Yeah, he’s weak, but he’s an okay guy at heart.”

  “Tali, I never understood that soft spot you always had for Frank. Speaking of husbands, how are you doing? Did you take out a contract on the bastard yet?”

  “No.” I sighed. “I’m so tired of the mess. Living in that old house again, handling the kids by myself, and now murder. My God, what else can happen?”

  “Never say anything like that out loud.” Cherilyn looked around. “Someone will hear you and then show you the future. Trust me, I know. You’re tough. You can make it just like every other woman who’s had a snake of a husband. Next time he gives you a hard time, tell him ‘Bite me.’”

  “He already did, remember? But I know you’re right. I’ll be okay, one way or another, even if I whine about it.”

  Cherilyn finished off her espresso. “I have to get back before Editor-girl causes trouble. Meet me for lunch and we’ll dish some more, maybe about JT?”

  She was off and down the block before I could open my mouth to protest.

  A trip to the cleaners, a trunk of non-perishable groceries, and two bags of cat food later, I met Cherilyn back at her office. This time I heard the new editor, through her closed office door, reaming out someone. When Cherilyn charged out, her teeth were clenched, her lips white and pinched.

  “Ready for lunch, sweetie?” Cherilyn uttered the invitation through clenched teeth. Her expression propelled me to turn right around and go back outside.

  I took a deep breath. “You want to tell me where we’re going and what happened or shall I simply disappear?”

  When Cherilyn stopped, pivoted, and looked me straight in the eyes, I saw she was inches from tears.

  Lunch hour traffic pushed by us on both sides since we effectively blocked the sidewalk. I grabbed her arm and dragged her to my truck across the street.

  “What do you say we get Subway and drive out to the lake for lunch? It’s close, fast and private.”

  Once we had food and parked at the lake-shore, we spent the first fifteen minutes in silence, eating, watching sun on water, kids on jet skis and the new lifeguard. He was tan, tall and turned heads. He didn’t look local but he reminded me of someone. My reaction to him reminded me how long it had been since sex for me was more than a late night episode of Sex in the City.

  Cherilyn let out a deep breath. “Do you think there’s any way I can keep from killing McIntyre, keep my job, and stay sane?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question or do you really want an answer?” I felt so bad for her. She’d worked hard in a male profession and then had everything pulled out from under her just like she was nothing. Publishing was full of giant companies that ran multiple newspapers with regional managers. Local people always seemed to be overlooked.

  “Give it time if you can. She’s going to find out that she needs the local people on her side if she wants to get anything out of them, including ad sales. There’s always a chance things will work out, she’ll realize she can’t run a paper on looks alone or by herself. Besides, she’s a Yankee. She’ll be begging for your help.”

  Cherilyn finished her sandwich and reached into her giant purse/briefcase to pull out a file. “The main reason I wanted lunch together, besides my sanity, was to share this.”

  “Which is?”

  “Autopsy on our own Mag.”

  I grabbed for it. “That fast? Wow. Let me see. What did they find?”

  “A lot of nothing except for one thing,” she said, holding it away from me. “Confidentiality, you know.”

  “Well, what is the one thing?” I read down the page. “The knife they found wasn’t the weapon? Did anyone find another knife?”

  “Not that I heard about but I don’t know if JT would come running to the newspaper with that info.”

  I gave the report back to Cherilyn. “Any idea who wanted Mag dead?”

  “More like who didn’t want her dead. Her drinking and temper had increased since Frank started catting around more. She made enemies everywhere she went. She and Donna we
ren’t best friends, not unusual as daughters grow up. There was a little tug-of-war for Frank’s attention, or maybe money.” Cherilyn balled up the lunch paper sack, reached for mine and pitched them at the trash container next to the road. “Now, I have a big surprise for you. You’ve been gritching about getting party business. Well, do I have news for you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think I’ve snagged you the coup of the year. You could be running the First Annual Carter County Calf-roping Queen Ball.”

  Oh, hell, yes, I was back home in small town Texas.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning looked like high summer, hot, hazy, clear, no rain in sight. Just the kind of summer day for wearing black.

  “You have to attend the funeral, Tali,” Mumsie insisted, brushing imaginary lint off her black skirt. “It’s part of small town life, if you want to be accepted by the community again. It’s exactly like a celebration, only different.”

  “I know, but I hate funerals. It wasn’t like I was close to Mag, but I do feel bad for Frank and Donna.” I filled ice trays that were empty as usual.

  “I’ll keep you company, and Sean will be at day camp.”

  “Okay, but keep Amen Ka in line, will you? If you start taking to him in the middle of the service everyone will think you’ve lost it.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. He says Mag will be there. He told her it wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t listen.”

  “Your spirits have contacted Mag?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it that,” Mumsie said. “She kind of floated by, said she was going to the funeral, gave them the finger. However, before that, she said you were not really helpful so far.”

  “Did Mag happen to say just what she wanted me to do?”

  “It’s not exactly a mystery, you know. She wants you to expose her killer.”

  “Figured that out. But did she say how I would go about this task? Or did Amen Ka say, or any of your so-called spirit friends?”

  “No. I guess you’re expected to find out yourself. Maybe it’s a test from the higher powers.”

  “What higher powers?”

  “Just, you know, powers.”

  “No, I don’t know, but I have to go put on something appropriately dark and funereal so I can go get a heat stroke at this thing.”

  I found a black silk top to go with my black broomstick skirt. Black sandals, small silver dangle earrings, and I was set. Mag had been a bitch but no one deserved what had happened to her.

  * * *

  The new PeacefulRestCemetery crouched just beyond the city limits. Its carefully tended lawns were dotted with only a few stones and one large mausoleum. Mag had left instructions that she wanted to be cremated, have no church service, and just a short graveside gathering. A canopy and rows of chairs signaled the spot. Heat rose in waves. It would be another triple-digit day.

  I parked and trekked to the site, picking a seat in the back so I could watch who attended. Someone had sent a wreath of gardenias, their scent cloying in the heat, even outdoors.

  The story was that the killer couldn’t stay away from the funeral but I wasn’t sure how much help that would be. It could be anyone.

  Betty Ann was there, wearing a tight, short, heavy black silk dress with gathers across the butt. Did the woman not know that her hips looked even bigger under the folds? Mag’s friends were there, Frank, looking lost, Donna looking bored, like someone at a stranger’s service out of obligation. Strange, that. How could you do it? When I lose Mumsie, I don’t even want to think.

  Some of the people I recognized. One good looking young man reminded me of someone Reneé had pointed out at the dance. He kept sending glances down front but I couldn’t tell where he was looking without doing an obvious neck craning thing.

  I saw JT but he didn’t see me. Cherilyn had to work, but Laurel McIntyre, alias Editor-girl, was there.

  The service was short, no one passed out from the heat, and the urn was interred in its vault. A chill of cool air and a shiver down my back told me Mag might be somewhere around but I couldn’t see her. From reactions around me, I could see that a few others felt something. The young man I’d noticed kept swatting at something like he was being attacked by mosquitoes.

  The preacher said a few words, generic. No one else got up to say anything. I felt sorry for Mag if she was watching.

  Once the funeral was over, Betty Ann clung to Frank like she was also a grieving relative. She reached to hug Donna, who pulled away and looked around, searching for someone. She wore enough make-up to weigh down her face and a skirt much shorter than I’d ever seen her in.

  Conspicuous in her absence was Reneé, the person who always made sure I did my duty.

  As I turned to go up and tell Frank how sorry I was, I felt a touch on my arm, more like a grip from something with talons.

  I swung around. Betty Ann stood glaring like a wolf guarding pups. “Why don’t you just go on home? You don’t need to bother Frank now. You did enough the other night, fighting with Mag and causing so much trouble.”

  “I didn’t fight with her,” I tried to explain, and then stopped. It wasn’t worth it. “Frank’s my friend, always has been. I’ll just talk for a minute and be on my way.” I pulled my arm away, not rubbing the red marks she’d made with her nails. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Curiouser and curiouser. I really needed to find out what was happening here, why Betty Ann disliked me on sight. And where was Reneé when I needed her?

  Chapter Four

  High noon at city hall. Gary Cooper had nothing on me. Not high noon exactly since it was seven in the evening. But I’d be fighting the entire town, or at least the Love City Council and County Fair board to get the Calf-roping Ball assignment. I dressed for success in one of my understated, confidence-oozing navy suits, knee-length skirt, tailored jacket, nice label and warm gold jewelry. That was mistake number one; at a calf-roping ball, there’s no city slickers allowed.

  I’d prepared a quick power-point presentation. Mistake number two. This city hall wasn’t equipped with a projector, screen or anyone interested in a presentation. I also had a story board with examples of decorating schemes. Okay, well, you get the drift, they just wanted someone to take over, do the job and shut up.

  I had to control my temper and ego. I needed this job.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Ms. Cates,” Laurel McIntyre said, almost keeping the purr out of her voice as she looked at JT, Mayor Cummins and me. “We are up against the wall. Sandy Cahill had her baby three weeks early and thinks she now has to stay home with it. We don’t have any choices left. The ball is scheduled for three weeks from now.”

  I felt a chill and looked around. The city hall’s window unit of an air conditioner wasn’t that good. Damn. Mag stood in the middle of the room. Oh shit. My heart stuttered to a stop, considered not beating again, but started after all.

  Laurel tossed her perfectly highlighted blonde hair, smoothed her unwrinkled linen skirt and continued, seemingly oblivious of the apparition in the room. “I know Mayor Cummings feels the same way I do, and would much rather have someone who is not an amateur at this, but here we are. Even so, as president of the fair board, I feel it’s my duty . . .”

  Mayor Cummins, bless his cholesterol-filled little heart, protested. “That’s a little harsh, Laurel. Tali did a fine job on Mag’s party, even if the ending left a little to be desired.”

  JT chimed in. “Look, we’re spending a lot of time talking but let’s face it. We have this much money, this much time. and this much left to do. No one else is going to rush up to do this job, so let’s pay Tali to do it.”

  “But we do have standards to maintain. And if we start using amateurs now there’s no telling where it will lead,” Laurel pleaded, as if we wanted to use a med student instead of a doctor to deliver local children. She flapped her hand as if a fly bothered her. It wasn’t a fly. Mag was in her face, almost touching her nose to nose. What the hell was she trying to do
?

  I held by breath, afraid to move.

  JT’s voice grew louder and faster. “It’s not like we’re talking rocket science here or high society. It’s the Carter County Calf-roping, for God’s sake, not the governor’s inaugural ball. Any idiot could give this party.” (He had the grace to add “Sorry, Tali.”) “Let’s get on with it. I have more to do than argue.”

  Mayor Cummins asked for a motion.

  “I so move.” J.T said.

  “Second,” Laurel said, as if she had to tear the word out of her soul.

  Damn, considering we met for the first time tonight, you’d think we were lifelong enemies. I wondered if it was because Cherilyn suggested my name to the Mayor. The old reprobate was longtime friends with Cherilyn’s dad, tax accountant for half the town and most of the committees at city hall.

  Mag left Laurel, flickered out like a dead light bulb then appeared in my face, close enough to make me jump and yelp.

  I left as soon as the vote was done, before anyone caught the fact that I was reacting to what they thought was empty air. The chamber went on with the rest of their business. I plopped into a chair, waiting for my heart to beat normally.

  I got the gig. A monkey would have gotten the gig if he’d shown up. Now that I had it, what was I going to do with it? Laurel acted as if I were a pauper attempting to entertain royalty. I wondered if she had a daughter in the Queen contest. Surely not. I think you have to be in the FFA to run, or part of the Rodeo Club or some such. So was she running her over-glossed mouth or was she out to get me for some reason, or any woman who ran across her path? She could be predatory in general.

  I called Cher to tell her how things had gone, but she was either out on a story or on her way to the courthouse. More likely the story. I also tried Reneé, but no luck. I hadn’t been able to reach her since the party. What was the deal? We usually talked every day.

  That led to the party, the body, the knife, or lack of the right one, motive, or plethora of, and last but not the only thing to consider, the ghost. What could be more fun than that?