Murder on a Starry Night: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery (21 page)

“Do you really think Tom could be responsible?” Po frowned.

“Po, greed and love are a volatile mix.”

“That would explain Ollie’s murder, maybe, if he thought he could really get the house if Ollie died. But not Joe.”

“Maybe Joe knew something? Maybe witnessed the murder or saw Tom leaving the house that night,” Eleanor offered. “And hurting Adele’s dog and the fire might have been scare tactics to get Adele to give up her plan for the bed and breakfast.”

The waiter silently uncorked a bottle of pinot gris and offered the glass to Max to taste.

“Wonderful,” Max assured him, swirling and sniffing the crisp French wine.

“I agree—it all seems plausible,” Po said.

“But doesn’t settle nicely in the heart, right?” Max looked over at Eleanor and lifted his glass in the air. “To the birthday girl,” he said.

Eleanor and Po clinked their glasses together.

“Happy birthday, dear Eleanor.” Po sipped her wine and smiled at her friend of so many years that she could no longer keep track.

And with the warm sentiments of birthday and friendship, and the delicious aroma of garlic and butter swirling up from the escargot the waiter placed in front of them, the small group moved on to more appropriate conversation, like Eleanor’s planned trip to Southern France.

Later, when they were stuffed full of Picasso’s wine-flavored lamb stew, Eleanor, Po, and Max left the restaurant and walked slowly down Elderberry Road. Po linked her arms through Max’s and Eleanor’s and tilted her head back to look up at the night sky. It was black and beautiful, filled with a sparkling wash of constellations and galaxies. “Amazing,” she murmured, her thoughts turning automatically to Oliver Harrington. He was never far from her thoughts these days, and she wondered when he would release his hold on her. When the murderer is found, her mind answered back. That’s when.

Po sorted through her thoughts, trying to untangle the threads and wishing the unsettling thoughts would leave her, move on and let her be. She kept returning to Joe’s tiny apartment, the life he lived there. And the awareness that the Harrington estate was his whole world. One he rarely left. Except through death. Who could have wanted him dead, a man who had no connections?

Po looked up into the brightly lit window of Gus’s bookstore. Eleanor and Max stood before it, examining his new display. “I think I’ll see what new travel books Gus has gotten in,” Eleanor said.

Po followed them into the store, grappling with one strand of thought that dangled like an irritating thread right in front of her.

The store was crowded with people, some passing the time while they waited for a table at Picasso’s, others wandering through the store, listening to a guitarist playing in a reading room or checking out the best sellers on a display rack.

“Gus,” Po said, spotting her friend standing in the doorway, talking with a customer.

“Po, about time you wandered over to say hello.” Gus stepped closer and gave Po a hug.

It wasn’t until Gus’s customer turned around that Po realized who it was. “Jed!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Jed’s lip turned up in a half smile. “Talking to Gus?” he asked, confused at her tone.

“Shame on me!” Po said. “That sounded rude. I’m not accustomed to questioning friends’ whereabouts, Jed, but Picasso said you were with Adele, so I didn’t expect to see you here. And Picasso mentioned the unfortunate encounter at his restaurant tonight.”

Jed shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at Po. “It was unpleasant, Po, that’s for sure. Adele isn’t the most gracious person in town, but Adler’s attack on her was pretty bad. I don’t know what the guy was thinking. Too much wine, I guess.”

“It was nice of you to take her out, though. I don’t think she has left that house at night since she came to town.”

“Out?” Jed started to answer, then held his silence.

“Well, Adele gets what she wants, don’t you know?” Gus said, stepping into the conversation.

“And what does that mean, Gus?” Po asked.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with women asking men out, Po. My Rita says it’s done all the time with the college crowd and makes good sense, she says.”

“Gus, sometimes you talk too much,” Jed said lightly.

“Not at all,” Gus retorted. “Everyone in the store heard her invite you to take her to dinner.” Gus lowered his voice. “And just between us, we were all pretty relieved it was you she asked out and not any of us.”

“Well, I ask Max to take me out all the time,” Po said. “You’re just too old fashioned, Gus.” She smiled at the two men. The news that Adele had initiated the dinner brought an unexpected feeling of relief to Po, and she wasn’t at all sure why. Perhaps it was the look on Halley’s face when she spotted Jed this morning. Seeing Jed with a woman Halley so disliked would surely have disturbed that smile.

“Adele was in an ornery mood by the time I got her back to her house,” Jed said. “I think she was wondering why she’d asked me in the first place. And frankly, I was wondering the same thing. She said she wanted to talk with me about something, but we never got that far. I was fine with making it a short evening, though. I’d promised Halley I’d stop by her place, but when I got there, she wasn’t home. I checked out a couple places, then thought maybe I’d find her here. She comes in here a lot. Have either of you seen her?”

“She hasn’t been here tonight, Jed,” Gus said, but before the words had settled in between them, Po spotted Halley coming in the front door.

Po waved to her over the heads of several customers. “Over here, Halley,” she called out.

Halley waved back and wound her way through the crowd to Po’s side. When she spotted Jed, she stopped short.

“Hi, Halley” Jed said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

But Halley brushed his hand from her arm and took a step back.

Po frowned. Halley’s behavior had been so erratic today. Tonight she seemed highly agitated. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes darted from Po to Jed, then back to Po. Her face was filled with anger.

“Halley, dear—are you all right?” Po asked.

“I’m fine, Po,” Halley snapped. She looked at Jed, a pinched look on her face.

“I got caught up in something, Halley,” Jed said. “I’m sorry. Adele—”

“Don’t,” Halley interrupted. Her tone was sharp, accusing. “Don’t talk about her to me.”

“Halley,” Jed tried again.

Halley held up one hand to stop his words. She looked at Po and opened her mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut again, her lips pressed into a thin line.

And before Po could say anything to ease the moment, Halley spun around and walked toward the door, her steps angry and heavy on the wooden floor.

Jed looked at Po, started to say something, and then instead, he excused himself and hurried after Halley.

Po was stunned. This wasn’t the gentle librarian she had gotten to know in recent weeks. Jealousy certainly wasn’t an emotion she’d have suspected would come easily to Halley. Nor disallowing an explanation that could so easily have eased the moment.

Max came up behind her. “Now what was that all about? Halley looked like she was about to kill someone.”

Po shook her head. “She was upset, that was for sure. Perhaps Jed will be able to calm her down. He was clearly concerned.”

“He has a job on his hands, far as I could tell,” Gus said. “You know what they say about a woman scorned—”

“But she wasn’t scorned, Gus.”

“You know that and I know that, but Halley sure doesn’t.”

“I’m sure Jed will work it out. The man’s a peace maker,” Max said beside her.

“There was such anger there,” said Po. “But you’re right of course. Sometimes all it takes is a good night’s sleep. Which is what we all need. Now where in this jungle of books is Eleanor?”

By the time Max and Po found her, Eleanor had discovered several new travel books to buy, and Gus was about to lock his doors.

“Nothing for you, Po?” Gus asked, as they gathered at the checkout desk. “It’s a rare day that you leave my store empty-handed. How about a little support for the professor?” He pointed to a small stack of Jed’s astronomy books sitting next to the computer. “Someone asked me to order one, so I got a couple extra. Read part of it myself. I think you’ll like it.”

Eleanor picked up the book and added it to her stack. “My treat,” she said.

“Now out, my friends,” Gus demanded, returning Eleanor’s credit card and handing her the bag. “I need to get home to Rita or she’ll wonder what I’m up to.”

“And we’ve had enough of that sort of thing for one night,” Max said. “Let’s keep the peace at all costs.”

Gus laughed and held the door open for then, then locked it behind them.

Keep the peace, Po thought. But she felt anything but peaceful. And even the starry night and two dear friends beside her couldn’t shake the feeling that peace was not the operative word tonight.

Max dropped Eleanor off, and he and Po drove in comfortable silence the short distance to Po’s home.

Max turned into the driveway, his headlights beaming into the black night in front of them. “Is that Hoover?” he asked, spotting movement beside the back door.

Po frowned. She had left Hoover inside when Max picked her up. But as the car pulled to a stop, Hoover emerged from the shadow of the garage, his tail wagging in recognition. Before Po could get out of the car, he was at her side.

“Hoover, what are you doing out here?” she asked, then looked over at Max. “That’s odd. But sometimes Pete Aran-go, that nice fellow who mows my lawn, comes over and takes him for a walk. Maybe he didn’t latch the door tightly.”

“Po, you and your open doors. Will I ever convince you that your open-door policy isn’t a great idea?” Max got out and walked around the side of the car.

Po half listened to Max’s familiar speech about safety while she scratched Hoover’s ears. She’d have to talk to Pete about this. Although Hoover wouldn’t venture far, it would only take one squirrel to send him flying across the street—and he wouldn’t look both ways first.

Max walked Po to the side door, Hoover close behind, and held it open for her.

“I’d ask you in, Max, but I know you’re as tired as I am,” Po said.

Max nodded. “And I’ve an early appointment with a client tomorrow.” He held her for a moment, then felt the nudge of Hoover’s furry head between them. Max pulled apart slightly, then kissed Po good night. “I think Hoover’s tired, too. Who knows what adventures he has had tonight. ‘Night big fella,” he said, scratching the dog’s head, then headed back to his car.

Po watched Max drive away, wondering how she had been so lucky to have, not one, but two amazing men in her life. “And you’re not so bad yourself,” she said to Hoover, opening the back door and stepping into the low light of the kitchen.

Hoover ran around her, then stopped short, barking loudly into the semi-dark house.

Po’s heart began to beat wildly. Something didn’t feel right; clearly, Hoover thought so, too.

Hoover raced through the family room and into the front hall, his golden coat flying in the breeze.

“Is someone there?” Po called out, then grabbed a portable phone from the counter, ready to dial 911.

From the front of the house, Hoover barked wildly. Po peered into the darkened front hallway, the phone clenched tightly in her hand, her finger just above the programmed key that would bring the police.

Hoover stood at the front door, his ears alert, his nose pressed against the glass. All was silent, save for the beating of her heart and Hoover’s panting.

Po walked cautiously to the door and looked out into the dark night. The solid inner door was pushed wide open. Po stood at the glass storm door behind Hoover, peering out into the darkness. Nothing but the dark, starry night. But someone had been here. Someone had been in her house.

Po shuddered and rubbed her arms. The feeling of being assaulted, of someone invading her private space was as real and poignant as it would have been if she had encountered a trespasser face to face. Po walked through the house quickly, flicking on every switch until the house was ablaze in light and the frantic beating of her heart had slowed.

The fear had dried Po’s mouth and she poured a drink of water from the cooler, then stood by the kitchen table, looking around the large living area. Everything looked the same as when she had left the house hours earlier. Beside her, Hoover began to sniff the floor, then sniffed his way back into the wood-paneled den near the front door.

Po followed slowly, wishing she had asked Max to come inside with her. She turned on the overhead light in the den. Sam’s massive old desk was where it always was. But all around it were pieces of paper, tossed about in disarray. The desk drawers were open, and pads of Po’s yellow paper had been pulled out and left on the floor beside the desk. Po pressed her hand against her heart and tried to calm the rising fear filling her chest.

The gold clock the college had given Sam on his tenth anniversary as president was still above the mantel. Her laptop computer was still in its rightful place in the middle of the desk. A digital camera sat on a table and CDs filled a bookcase in easy view. Clearly whoever rummaged through her drawers was not out to steal electronics.