Foul Play at the Fair (17 page)

Liv leaned back in her chair, stared at the screen until her screen saver appeared. Would Chaz be interested in pursuing the murder of Pete Waterbury? Was he already doing research? She could imagine him in his office, head bent over old newspapers, following the lead…right to the couch where he’d lie down and dream of catfish.

Liv huffed out a breath. There would be no help from that direction. And she should be getting to work instead of thinking about the murder.

It was so frustrating. The worst thing she usually had to deal with was the weather, an overbooked venue, or an off-season flower order that froze in an airline cargo hold. Those were the problems she knew how to deal with. She had protocol in place.

She’d once had to postpone a retirement banquet because the retiring CEO dropped dead of a heart attack before he could be feted. A week later in a new venue, she took charge of the memorial service. But she never in her wildest dreams thought she’d be broadsided by murder.

And she didn’t like it one bit. And the sad truth of it was that no one had even liked the victim. He wasn’t part of their community, and no one mourned him. But they were afraid of it happening again.

“Grrrr.”

Whiskey barked once from the doorway.

“It’s all right, baby. Just me.” She got up and went to get her coat and keys, while Whiskey gamboled around her feet. “Sorry, fella. You have to stay home until I get this mess sorted out. Maybe Miss Edna will let you help her in the garden again. But. Do. Not. Dig. Up. Her. Carrots. Capisce?”

“Arf.”

“And we’ll go on a long walk tonight when I get home.”

Whiskey cocked his head and took off for the bedroom. If she followed him, she’d find him hiding under the bed. To Whiskey, an evening in front of the television trumped exercise any day.

“See ya,” she called and headed to town hall.

The temperature had dropped overnight and she walked briskly to get her blood pumping. She could have gone back to get her winter coat, but she refused to be the first person to give in to the cold. Liv Montgomery could take it with the best of Celebration Bay’s old-timers.

There seemed to be plenty of them on the street this morning. It was a Thursday; there were no special activities outside of the usual October fare, but nearly every parking space was filled.

She passed three men confabbing on the street corner.

“Morning, Liv.” Otis Deal touched his fingers to the bill of his John Deere cap. “Heard any more about what’s happening with Joss?”

Liv shook her head automatically. Why did he think she would know anything?

“Well, it’s that damn fool Bill Gunnison, letting the damn state people come in and push their weight around,” said his shorter companion.

“I don’t think he had a say in it,” said the third man. “He must be pretty darn frustrated.”

“Then he should have hurried up and arrested one of the Zoldoskys instead of going to funerals and hobbling around like an old man.”

The door to the bakery opened and Edna and Ida Zimmerman came out carrying a large bag.

“Well, good morning, Liv,” Ida said. She was dressed in a tweed skirt and sensible shoes with an old green car coat buttoned up to her neck. “Now, you boys run along and stop gossiping like a bunch of old women.”

“Yes, Miss Ida.” The three middle-aged men hightailed it across the street.

She turned to Liv. “We saw Joss’s truck parked on the street last night and Ted’s car at your place in the middle of the night. Did they let Joss out of jail? Did he ask you to help him?”

Of course they would know everything that went on, especially in their own backyard.

Before Liv could think of an answer, Edna took her sister’s elbow and practically dragged her to the curb. “Well, I for one am not going to stand here and gossip all morning.” She turned to Liv, frowned, then cut her eyes back toward the bakery, the meaning clear. Something’s up. “Come along, Sister; we’d better get home before these buns get cold.”

Liv smiled good-bye and stepped inside the bakery.

Dolly was bent over what appeared to be a tray of sticky buns. She was dressed in civilian clothes: khaki slacks and a pink sweatshirt. It was the first time Liv had seen her on-site not wearing one of her gingham dresses. Only the ties of the white apron gave a nod to baking.

“Good morning, Dolly.”

Dolly squeaked and whirled around. Her face was chalky. She wore no lipstick and no smile of welcome.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Which was odd in itself, considering the Zimmerman sisters had just left and customers came in all day long. Edna had sensed something was wrong, and she’d given Liv a heads-up. But what was she supposed to do?

Dolly put her hand on her chest. “I was just off in a blue study. Didn’t even hear you come in.” She smiled; it was forced. Liv had been around people who smiled like that for far too long. That was why she’d moved to Celebration Bay. She wanted to take Dolly by the shoulders and shake her.
Don’t do this to me. I’m not the enemy.

Or was she? Was Janine already spreading her venom?
We never had a murder before she came. She brought the evils from the city with her.

“What can I get for you?”

Some truth, some honesty, and two of those sticky buns.

“Just got these sticky buns out of the oven,” Dolly said too brightly. “Ted loves them.”

“Fine. I’ll take two.”

Dolly turned away and lifted two buns into a white bakery box. She set the box on the counter. “That’ll be three twenty-five.”

At least Liv was still getting the local rate. A tourist would pay that much for each bun. She counted out the change and handed it to Dolly. Dolly took it with trembling fingers.

Liv looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming inside. “Dolly. Is something wrong? You seem a little uneasy.”

Dolly shook her head. “No, no. It’s just…Well, this awful thing about Pete, and Joss being arrested.”

“I heard he had just been taken in for questioning. That’s understandable. He was a family member.” Liv tried to sound reassuring but didn’t really succeed.

“That’s not what Harry Ellis over at the pub said. The local cops go there after their shifts. They said state detectives brought him in and are keeping him. They won’t even let Bill talk to him.”

Liv frowned. State detectives? Still, wouldn’t it be a common courtesy to let the local sheriff in on the investigation? “What does Bill say?”

Dolly threw up her hands. “I have no idea. No one’s seen him. I swear if that man—if he—oh—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Dolly, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. I just don’t know whether I’m coming or going this morning. This whole thing has just got me discombobulated.”

It looked like more than discombobulation to Liv, but she couldn’t force Dolly’s confidence. She wasn’t a close friend, though she’d thought until this week that they might become good friends. And she certainly had no authority to prod her for information. It wasn’t any of her business.

The hell it wasn’t.
This was her new life, her new friends, her new home. “Dolly, if you ever want to talk about anything…Just somebody to listen.”

“No, I’m fine. Just fine. It’s just—” She looked around and then leaned over the counter. “Joss would never hurt anyone, especially not his own brother, even if Pete was no good. I just don’t understand why Bill let that happen. It’s not like him.”

“I think it was taken out of his hands.”

Dolly’s voice lowered to a whisper. “He should have arrested the Zoldoskys like everyone told him to do. No, I don’t mean that. It’s just—I better get back to these sticky buns before they harden.” She turned away. “Have a nice day,” she said as an afterthought and began to ruthlessly scrape the sticky buns onto a doily-covered platter.

Deep in thought, Liv went next door for coffee.

“Yikes,” said BeBe, frowning at Liv and giving her the once-over. “You look like you were up all night. Please tell me you were reading a page-turning thriller or out at a wild party, and not getting involved with Joss’s arrest.”

Liv shrugged.

“Oh Lord. I knew it. It’s the talk of the town, those state cops arresting Joss.”

Liv started to tell her that he hadn’t been arrested, but maybe that had changed. She’d have to ask Ted.

“Well?”

“It’s a long story and I have to get to work. I’ll tell you later. When I know more.” Liv took her carton of drinks and headed to her office, wondering if Ted would already be there.

He was. And not looking happy. “Where’ s—”

“I left him at home.” Liv’s stomach burned. She should probably have gotten decaf. She handed him the bakery box and drinks and went into her office without a word.

Ted came in a few minutes later, put the tray on her desk like every day, but Liv knew that today would be the pivotal point in their relationship.

And where would her loyalties lie?

She jumped in with both feet. “Do they still have Joss?”

“Yes.”

“Did Roseanne tell you why she came?”

“No. She fell asleep before we’d gone half a block.”

Liv nodded. “Catharsis.”

“Possum.”

“Maybe. Listen, Ted—”

“I know. She made you promise, and you won’t break that promise.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’ll need a friend she can trust.”

Liv was reaching for her coffee, mainly to have something to do, but she stopped, looked at him. Ted, as only Ted could, reached for his tea and took a sip.

“Now more than any other time?”

Ted handed her a fork across the desk. “Use this on the sticky bun. They’re a mess to eat, but worth it.”

“Ted.” She drew out the word and gave him her most intimidating raised eyebrow.

He gave her a half smile, no a quarter smile, in return. “Her father’s a suspect in a murder case. The sheriff who has known him for his entire life has been shoved aside by state detectives, and from what Bill told me, the detectives sent here are not happy about it and want it wrapped up yesterday.”

“Then why are they here? Is murder their jurisdiction? I thought the county could do that.”

“Ordinarily they would handle it first. If it isn’t a cut-and-dried case, they’ll bring in the state to coordinate with them.”

“But according to everyone and their uncle, the state has taken over and pushed Bill out.”

Ted shrugged. “Evidently.”

“But it’s only been a few days.”

“Which means they probably got nudged into taking over.”

“By whom? Wouldn’t it take someone with influence?”

“Probably.”

“Any ideas?”

The door to the outer office opened and two men walked in.

“Speak of the devil.” Ted stood up, wiping his hands on a napkin, and went out to meet them. “Gentlemen, how can I be of service?”

It had to be the state police. Both were of medium height, middle-aged, and wore dark suits.

One stepped ahead of the other and pulled out an ID card. “I’m Lieutenant Devoti and this is Sergeant Pollack. Are you Theodore Driscoll?”

“Yes, I am,” Ted said and shut Liv’s door, shutting Liv out of the conversation.

She heard the muffled scrape of chairs, low-pitched voices. She was so tempted to tiptoe to the door and eavesdrop, but she sat there thinking furiously. If they wanted to question Ted, they might want to question her. After all, she was the third person—that she knew of—on the scene.

Unfortunately, she was also the keeper of Roseanne’s confidences. Was it withholding information if she kept her promise? Would she be culpable? Was she willing to sic the police on a young and naive girl?

Was that why Ted shut the door? So the detectives wouldn’t question her and she wouldn’t betray Roseanne? How could he think that? She wouldn’t obstruct the law and she wouldn’t lie. But she would convince Roseanne to tell Bill everything she knew, and Bill could deal with the information as he saw fit.

She was a resident of Celebration Bay. And it was time she started acting like one.

She pushed herself out of her chair and carefully made her way to the door. She knelt down and stretched her ear to the keyhole.

“And what did you see when…” The voice trailed off so that she couldn’t hear the end of the question.

“Well, Detective.” Ted’s voice was not loud but it carried right through the keyhole. “I told him not to touch anything and wait for me by the front door of the store.”

“And did…”

Liv made a face at the door. Couldn’t the man just ask a question without winding down to a whisper?

“Yes. Joss was very upset, as you can imagine. He took me to the back room where the apple press exhibit was set up. And there was the body in the apple press.”

“And did you…”

“I think any situation in which a murder has been committed an odd one.”

Bless you, Ted,
Liv thought. He had excluded her from the interview, but he knew she’d be listening and he’d couched each question in his answer. He was unruffled but vague in his answers. He was keeping her up to speed and she’d take the cue to do the same; then she’d insist on calling Roseanne and Bill.

“Can you think of…”

“Pete Waterbury has not returned here that I know of for nigh thirty years. No one liked him then, but a lot can be forgotten in thirty years.”

The detective pounced. “Like what?”

“Whatever I suppose you would consider motives for murder. I wouldn’t know.”

“Isn’t it true…”

Liv was getting really annoyed at the way the detective’s sentences invariably trailed off, but at least she was receiving Ted loud and clear.

“Yes, but it was never proven.”

They were asking him about Victor’s death. Trying to make a case for Ted as the murderer?
Don’t get too excited, fellas.
There were plenty of people who might have a motive for murder. Ted was only one of them.

Liv missed the next question.

“I phoned her after I alerted the sheriff, Bill Gunnison.” A slight accusatory pause. Ted was good. He must have had speech classes in school. Debate club?
Concentrate, Liv.

“Because she’s the town’s event coordinator. Contingency plans had to be put in place immediately before a horde of tourists trampled all over the crime scene.”