Gone with the Wool (17 page)

“There's a matter of a bounced check,” he said. “I'm sure when the Delacorte sisters hear about it, they will be very distressed. They're insisting that I give you a tremendous break on the rooms, and then you don't even pay that.”

He'd caught me off guard, and I didn't know what he was talking about for a moment. Then I remembered the check Liz had given me for the Danish ladies. I had hoped that the manager would never find out that it had been returned before by the clerk.

“That's old news,” I said. “It was just an error, and I gave the clerk another check.”

Now Kevin St. John looked really triumphant. “Ms. Feldstein, it's that second check I'm talking about. When it came back, the clerk you talked to felt obligated to tell me what was going on.”

He didn't seem to know all the details about the check. Once he heard I was connected with it, he probably didn't wait for the rest of the details. I wondered if I should mention that it was actually a check from Liz Buckley that I had signed over to them. I took out my checkbook, wrote out and tore off a new check and handed it to him.

“A third check? What guarantee do we have that this one will go through?” This was definitely the time I could have explained that the two bounced checks were actually from Liz Buckley, and that I had signed them over to Vista del Mar, but it seemed immature to try to pass the blame—besides, ultimately it was on me anyway.

“Can I use your phone?” I asked, doing everything possible to not grit my teeth. “To call the bank,” I added when he hesitated.

“Good idea.” He handed me the cordless phone and stood next to me as I called the automated line for the bank. I held out the phone as the mechanical voice announced my balance. He took the check before I had a chance to click off.

I was definitely going to have to have another talk with Liz Buckley.

I woke up Friday morning thinking about the situation with Liz. This simply was not right. She had made a point that she would be watching how things went with the Danish ladies before she pushed more business my way, implying that it was like an audition for me. I hadn't thought it was an audition for dealing with her as well. Now that I had workshop leaders I could depend on and the early birds' assistance as well, I could handle more retreaters. But what was the point of getting business from her if I ended up having to pay for the guests' stay? I didn't want to believe it was deliberate, but having two checks being returned made me wonder. And now that Kevin St. John knew, I worried what he might do with the information.

Julius seemed to understand I had something on my mind and stayed out of my way. He had figured out that he had a
more agreeable source for stink fish anyway. When I went into the kitchen, Sammy was spooning some in his bowl.

Sammy stood up and rewrapped the smelly cat food with a surgeon's precision. “Case, what's the matter?” I hadn't said a word, but he knew how to read my expression. Oh no, Sammy really did
get me
. He'd brought coffee and breakfast sandwiches again, and we sat down together.

I told him about the returned checks. “I don't expect to make a lot from the retreats, but I also don't want them to cost me,” I said.

Sammy offered a sympathetic ear. “I can help you out if you need any money. The only things I spend money on are props for my magic show.” He gave me a warm smile, trying to cheer me up. “If you want backup when you go talk to her, I'm available.”

“Then you know that I'm going to talk to her?” I said, surprised, because I hadn't said anything about a plan of action.

Sammy cocked his head. “Case, you would never just throw in the towel and let yourself be a victim. You're a woman of action.”

I couldn't believe how much better I felt after what he said. “Thank you, Sammy. Of course you're right. I am going to confront her this morning.” He took out his phone and started to check his calendar, thinking I was going to take him up on the backup offer.

“You go on and do your doctor thing. I'll be fine on my own.”

He stopped with the calendar and looked disappointed. “I know you will.”

*   *   *

I made an appearance at breakfast and waited until the retreaters were in the morning workshop,
then I slipped out without telling anyone, sure that I would be back before the workshop ended.

As I drove into the heart of Cadbury, I was thinking about what I would say to Liz. I couldn't come on too strong, but still, two checks had bounced. I would let her talk first. Then I would lower the boom.

I parked my car almost in front of Cadbury Travel. When I walked into the travel agency, I saw that Liz was with a client. I stood at the front, hoping to catch her eye. She and the client were deep in conversation about the details of a European river cruise. When Liz looked up and saw me, her friendly expression changed to concern. Obviously, she'd figured out there was something wrong, and that was not a good vibe when she was about to make a big sale. She turned her attention back to the client but kept glancing nervously my way. After a few looks, she handed the woman some brochures and said she'd be right back.

She left the desk and came over to me with a businesslike manner. “I'm going to be a while,” she said, as if I was another client there to plan a trip. “Is there some kind of problem?” she asked, in almost a whisper. When I nodded, her eyes widened in distress. “Can we deal with this another time?”

“I do have to get back to Vista Del Mar,” I said firmly. She glanced back at her client and then regarded me. Her eyes were panicky.

She was trying to keep her tone businesslike. “Can we set a time in half an hour?” she said. I wanted to straighten out the check business, but there was no need to make a scene in front of her client. I also didn't want to be rushed through it—I had to make sure it was taken care of properly this time.

Liz seemed relieved when I agreed to meet later. I went down to Maggie's to get a cup of coffee while I waited. The
green strip down the center of Grand Street was filled with activity. Booths were being set up for the street fair that started later in the day and went through Saturday.

Maggie's place was busy, but then it was never really slow. The view of the counter was blocked by the line, and I waited until someone moved, then I held my breath as I checked out the muffin basket. Maggie saw me looking at it.

“We just sold the last ones. I told you nothing is normal during Butterfly Week.” She gave me a thumbs-up, and I let out my breath, hoping the same was true at the other places that sold my muffins.

Maggie gestured for me to find a table. A few minutes later, she let her assistant take over and came to sit with me, bringing a cup for each of us. I didn't have to lift the lid to know it was a cappuccino made just the way I liked it, so that the taste of the espresso wasn't lost in too much milk.

Maggie had a red sweater on and a red bandana tied around her black hair. “They tried to get me to wear orange and black for the week, but I wouldn't budge. Those town council people ought to lighten up on the control.” She took the seat across from me.

“I probably have coffee running through my veins by now,” she joked as she picked up her cup. “Where are all your retreat people?” She made an exaggerated gesture of looking around me.

“Back at Vista Del Mar,” I said. I didn't want to tell her about Liz and the bounced check, so I just said that I had to talk to Liz about something and we'd set a time. I quickly changed the subject to the previous night.

“I wasn't there,” Maggie said. “I've seen that play too many times.”

“That wasn't the only event. They put the plaque on the exhibit the Hardcastles donated.”

“Do you mean that grizzly bear? I think the only reason Rosalie picked it was because it was bigger than anything else in the museum.” I was a little surprised by Maggie's harsh tone. It must have shown in my face, because she softened a little.

“I'm sorry if that sounds harsh since she's dead now, but it just makes me sick to hear all this nonsense about her caring so much for Cadbury and its residents. All she really cared about was making herself important.”

“I finally met her husband,” I said, not knowing how to react to what Maggie had said. “He seems like an okay person.” I played with my cup. “You do know that spouses are the first ones most cops consider when there's a murder.” I looked up at her. “He said he wasn't there for the event that night, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't on the grounds. Getting a knife from the kitchen wouldn't have been hard. That sort of covers opportunity and means,” I said, hoping she saw where I was going. “The real question is, did he have a motive?”

“He had to live with her—maybe he just snapped,” Maggie said. “I know everything changed when his mother died six months ago. They inherited the family's real estate holdings, and Rosalie seemed to have taken charge.”

When I didn't seem to understand, Maggie continued. “Maybe he wasn't happy with the way she was handling things.”

I saw her point, but I knew Frank would say I needed more specific information. There was no time to pursue it now though. It was time for me to go back to Liz's, plus a wave of customers had come in to the coffee shop.

Maggie was already taking the next customer's order as she headed behind the counter. I took a last sip of my drink and tossed the cup in the trash before going back outside.

When I got back to the travel agency, I was relieved to see that Liz's customer was gone and Liz was still there. She had to know why I was there and might have disappeared in an effort not to deal with it. She directed me to the seat by her light wood desk.

“I'm sure I'll be sending you more business. I've already heard from other travel agents wanting to know about future retreats of yours.” She couldn't quite cover the nervous warble in her voice.

I ignored her ploy of dangling the promise of future business. I was all about taking care of the business we had. I laid the check on the desk.

Liz was a rather pale woman with blondish hair cut into a short wavy style, and suddenly her face was so red, I thought she might pass out. “Oh no,” she said, picking it up. “I just don't understand. I know there was money in the account.”

I suggested she call the bank to check. She appeared terribly embarrassed, and I stepped away from the desk while she made the call. It wasn't that I could really hear anything, but it seemed appropriate to give her some privacy.

Even so, she turned away. I pretended to be interested in the action on the center divider of Grand Street. I heard her make an unhappy noise. I can't say I was surprised. I know banks make mistakes, but bouncing two checks seemed like a real stretch.

She'd hung up when I turned back. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “I've been so preoccupied I didn't realize he had made those withdrawals.” And then she began to come undone.

She moaned and put her head down on her arms. It
seemed wrong to stay standing, so I sat in the chair next to the desk.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I was pretty sure that she did. Now that I understood it wasn't deliberate, I felt sympathetic. When I had worked for Frank in the detective agency, he had me do phone interviews, because I was good at getting people to open up to me. I thought it was both because they sensed I would really listen, and they had stuff on their minds they needed to unload.

After a moment she picked her head up and tried to regain her composure. “What you must think of me. Some businesswoman I am.” She glanced around the empty office as if there might be someone hiding and then blew out her breath. “I've just been so worried.” Her eyes darted furtively around the small office again. “I suppose it's okay to talk now. She's dead.”

Was she talking about Rosalie? I sat forward so as not to miss a word or innuendo. I wasn't sure what was coming next. She paused again and seemed hesitant to go on. “What can she do now?”

“You might feel better if you talked about it,” I said, trying to encourage her.

“You have to swear not to tell anyone. She said the deal was off if I told a soul. I didn't even tell Gary.” Liz was sitting up, but she still seemed unglued.

“You're new to town, so you probably don't know about Rosalie. She was the Butterfly Queen when I was a kid. The way she acted, you would think she was queen of the universe. She was always trying to make herself important. She bad-mouthed the Delacortes, but it was only because she envied the way everybody in town put them on a pedestal.”

“Kind of like they were royalty,” I said, and she nodded.

“That's exactly it. I never thought of it that way. No wonder Rosalie made such a fuss about being Butterfly Queen. Then she actually was royalty—in the insect world anyway.” Liz took a breath before she continued. “I'm not going to bore you with all the details, but here are the important ones. Everybody but Hank knew that Rosalie picked him because she could run him and he came from a well-off family. But whatever dreams of grandeur Rosalie had were quickly squashed, because Hank's mother controlled everything. She was low-key and fair. And then everything changed when she died six months ago and Hank inherited all the properties.”

“I get it,” I said, remembering the comment Rosalie made at the dinner about her and Hank's new position in town and putting it together with what Maggie had said about the grizzly bear exhibit.

“The town used to be a lot different. In those days the town council was all about modernizing things. Hank's family kept buying up buildings that were going to be demolished so they could preserve them. When I started the travel agency and rented this space, the Hardcastles were very fair about the cost. Two weeks ago I got a notice that the rent was going to double.” Liz's face collapsed into worry. “There was no way I could stay in business. I was pretty sure it was all Rosalie's idea, even though it seemed to be coming from both of them.” Liz stopped to regroup. I could see she had been holding this all in and that it was a relief for her to talk about it, yet clearly exhausting at the same time.

“I called her and told her it would put me out of business, so she said maybe there was a way we could work things out.” Liz hit her fist on the desk. “Yeah, really work things out. She said if I made her a partner and gave her twenty-five percent of the business, she'd convince Hank to keep the
rent at what it had been. I had two weeks to think about it, and in the meantime I was not to contact her husband or tell anybody, and if she found out I did, the deal was off.”

Liz was spent and leaned back in the chair.

“Did you consider just moving?” I asked.

She let out a sigh. “Where? There's not an empty store in Cadbury. Besides, Cadbury Travel's identity is linked with this space.”