1 Death Pays the Rose Rent (22 page)

CHAPTER 21 

The ambulance driver waited until Alice-Ann let me in before he drove off. Filthy, wet, with a bandage on my forehead, Fred tucked under one arm, and the checkered tablecloth still around my shoulders, I knew I had a lot of explaining to do.

As quickly as I could, before Mark came downstairs, I told Alice-Ann of LaVonna’s death. Her eyes filled with tears.

“She was such a dear, dear person. Why would anybody kill a harmless soul like her?”

“Because the murderer was afraid of her. I think she knew who killed Richard, or had suspicions, and that was what she wanted to talk to me about on Thursday morning. She must have been overheard talking to me. Right then, she was destined to die. Damn! If only she’d told me then, she’d still be alive. And the judge, too.”

I plopped down on one of the wooden benches in the living room, and while Fred toiled with his raspy tongue to turn his feet white again, I told Alice-Ann about the cavern, my discovery of the long-lost jewel, the vicious attack on my person, and the recovery of the Edison machine.

“What an amazing adventure/’ she said when I finished. “I can’t wait to see Sylvia’s Star. It must be fabulous. Do you think all this is tied together somehow?”

I nodded. “It’s got to be. Listen, Alice-Ann. Are you absolutely positive there were no research notes in with Richard’s personal papers?”

“Tori, you know I searched everywhere. The only thing I didn’t do was unroll the toilet paper.”

“Mom, isn’t it time to go?” Mark entered the living room, bouncing with excitement. He stopped bouncing for a minute when he saw me. “Gee, Tori, you sure look funny.”

“I had a little adventure with a runaway cat.”

Fred paused in his pedicure to meow his corroboration.

“We need to get going,” Alice-Ann said, glancing at her wristwatch. “I thought you could ride with us, but you obviously need a shower and a change of clothes. Will you be able to get downtown to see the ceremony?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Garnet’s coming over in a little while. He can give me a lift.”

They left in a panicky flurry of last-minute adjustments: “Where did you put it?” “Better brush your hair again.” “Didn’t I tell you to wear a …?” “Aw, Mom!” “Your shoes!” “Has anyone seen my …?”

Alone at last, I filled the bathtub with water as hot as I could take it and lowered my aching bones,

watching my skin gradually turn bright pink from the heat.

When the water began to cool, I climbed out and was drying myself with a soft, white towel when, to my horror, the bathroom doorknob began to turn. I grabbed the bottle of bubble bath and held it over my head. If I was going to go, I was going to go fighting. The door opened.

“Hey, hey, Tori. Put that thing down. I come in peace.”

“Garnet! You scared me half to death.” I dropped the bottle—luckily it was plastic—and clutched at the towel in an inadequate attempt to preserve my modesty.

He blushed almost purple, slammed the door shut, and yelled through it, “Sorry. When you didn’t answer my knock, I was concerned you might have fallen asleep. That could be the sign of a serious concussion. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I yelled back at him.

“Then why the hell didn’t you lock the front door?”

I was struggling to pull on my underpants. Not easy when one’s body is still warm and damp. “I thought it locked automatically.”

“You really need someone to take care of you.”

I froze in the middle of hooking my bra. Don’t go serious on me, Garnet. Please don’t.

“I could use some coffee,” he called. “See you downstairs.”

I blow-dried my hair and dressed with extra care in navy linen slacks and a red-and-white-striped blouse with a long red silk scarf. Garnet’s admiring look when I walked into the kitchen affirmed that I looked as good as I hoped I did.

He put his big hands on my shoulders, bent down, and kissed me gently, so as not to dislodge the bandage on my forehead. “Tori Miracle, you’ve got me coming and going. When I’m with you, all I can think of is protecting you. When I’m not with you, I’m worried that you’re getting into some sort of trouble. What are we going to do about it?”

He must have felt my body stiffen, because he dropped his arms.

“Let’s have some of that wonderful-smelling coffee you made,” I said as I scooted around him to look for the coffee mugs.

When I turned around, I saw his mouth was screwed up in a little half-smile. “I wish I knew what you were thinking right now. I wish I knew where you go when I try to tell you how I feel.”

“I’ll see if I can find us something to eat.”

His voice was cool. “Good. I missed breakfast this morning.”

Feeling like Old Mother Hubbard, I searched the near-empty cabinets until I found a box of saltines and a jar of peanut butter. I placed them on the table along with a knife and a couple of paper napkins.

There didn’t seem to be anything else in the kitchen that would be good for breakfast except for a Snickers bar, and I was determined to save that for myself.

“Is this your idea of breakfast?”

“We’re lucky to have it,” I said, staring at the con-

gealed spaghetti in the refrigerator left over from last night’s dinner. “Neither Alice-Ann nor I have given any thought to going grocery shopping. Look! Jelly! It’s a feast.”

We managed to devour half the box of crackers and an enormous amount of peanut butter and grape jelly, too hungry even to talk. When we were full, we moved out to the back porch with fresh mugs of coffee.

“Time for me to be a policeman again,” he said. “Tell me what happened to you in the cave, and how you found the diamond and your notorious black box.”

I related the whole story, starting with Fred’s impromptu attempt at cave exploration and ending with Michael’s rescuing me. Well, almost the whole story. I didn’t mention finding the directions for building a spirit communicator—said papers now hidden safely away in my underwear drawer.

I finished with, “And I really do think it was Praxythea who knocked me down.”

“Explain, please.”

“Because of the box. I think she took it down there to test it. Maybe she’d heard about the dead soldier and thought the cave would be haunted. And after I was hit, I smelled her perfume.”

“Tori, how would she have known about the dead soldier?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe someone told her about him?”

“Even if someone had, there’s no way she could have found her way down there by herself. Not without a map, and the only ones I know of are what Michael and I drew when we were kids.”

“Then someone else is helping her. Someone from the castle who knows about the maps. Of course. How stupid of me. She’d have to have a partner.”

There had to have been someone else down there with her, someone who knew his way around. Michael had arrived awfully soon after I was knocked down. Could he be the partner? He knew his way around in the caves. He could have plotted with Praxythea to steal the machine from Richard, and as big and strong as he was, it would have been much easier for him to kill Richard with a blow to the head than for Praxythea to do it. He had a motive to kill the judge, too. It was quite possible that he knew the judge was his father and wanted revenge for all the years the man had ignored his existence. So he took his power nailer and …No! No way could I believe Michael capable of that. I hoped it was because of my innate ability to judge people’s character and not because he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever met.

“Do you really think that stupid-looking box is important enough to kill for?”

“I really do, Garnet. People have been trying to find the plans for it for years. As I told you yesterday, I’m positive Edison tested it in your very own Historical Society building.”

“It obviously didn’t work.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because if it had, everybody in the country would have one sitting next to their VCR and com-

pact-disc player. Think what fun it would be to talk about the good old days with Great-Grandpa on a dull Saturday night.”

“Maybe it did work. Maybe something happened that made Edison realize it was too dangerous to use again.”

Garnet shook his head. “I just can’t buy this supernatural stuff. It’s the same kind of garbage Praxythea talks about.”

“Exactly. And that’s why I think she was the one who took it down to the cave to test. Just think what this discovery could do for her career.”

“So you’re still saying Praxythea killed Richard?”

“It’s entirely possible.”

“She’s a dingbat and an opportunist, but I don’t picture her as a murderer.”

“Then who can you picture as a murderer? Rose? Alice-Ann? Michael? Me? No one looks like a murderer.” I asked him if he’d had a chance to question Rose.

“For about two minutes. Getting information out of her is like trying to take a bone away from a dog. All she admitted to is that Judge Parker was the father of her child. However, she says that had nothing to do with her going to talk to him the night he died, and she says it’s none of my business why she went there.”

He sipped his coffee. “We found traces of blood on the power nailer. As expected, it matched the judge’s.”

“Prints?”

He shook his head.

We took our empty mugs into the kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher.

“I’ve got to stop by the clinic and talk to Doc about LaVonna’s murder. I’m also going to make arrangements to recover the Union soldier’s body this afternoon and have it buried properly. Do you want me to drop you off downtown? You might as well see the Rose Rent ceremony.”

“Thanks.”

I grabbed my purse, made sure the front door was locked behind me, and stretched gracefully into the front seat of his truck.

“Aw shucks,” he teased, “I wanted to grab your bottom and push.”

At least he was in a good mood again.

“You’ll never catch me climbing into this truck in a tight skirt again,” I warned him, but with a smile, trying to make up for my earlier rejection. Damn it, anyhow, I really liked the man, his crooked grin, his concern for me, his eyes that could switch from the color of summer sky to ice in an instant, his gregariousness, his sexy body. I could go on about what I liked for a long time. I just didn’t want to be rushed.

CHAPTER 22 

Great timing! The Rose Rent parade was heading down Hemlock Street toward Main Street and the square, and of course, the cross street we were on was cordoned off and guarded by two volunteer firemen, who were taking their official duties very seriously.

“Might as well relax and enjoy it,” Garnet grumbled as he turned off the engine.

From the cab of his truck, we had a great view of little girls doing gymnastics accompanied by the silver tinkle of the glockenspiels. I was glad to see that someone had been assigned to march ahead of them shoveling up the poop from the horses of a dozen or so men dressed in Civil War uniforms.

After the girls came a covered wagon, pulled along by more horses. A bearded young man in jeans and a plaid shirt waved his whip at the crowd while people cheered. Garnet informed me that this was an almost exact replica of the famous Conestoga wagon that had fallen into the Lickin Creek, along with the town’s illustrious founder.

“After the ceremony, they’ll drive it on down to the creek and push it in …that’s the brilliant reenactment put on by the Lickin Creek Community Theatre every year.”

“Amazing,” I said dryly, shaking my head.

A seemingly unending procession of Scout troops—boys and girls—-came along, interspersed with marching bands from the Lickin Creek High School and several neighboring towns. The musicians looked miserable in their wool band uniforms, designed for winter football games, not July parades.

Along came the VFW, DAV, American Legion, AMVETS, Elks, Moose, Owls, Odd Fellows, So-roptomists, Optimists, DAR, Caven Countians for Choice, and other groups I’d never heard of. To delight the children, there were clowns, jugglers, balloon tiers, and more Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles than should have been allowed. Even Ronald McDonald was there, throwing out coupons for free burgers.

Near the end of the procession came the contestants for the Best Pet Award, according to the banner that preceded them. At least a dozen adults and children were carrying or pulling animals, most of which looked as if they wished they were anywhere else. A Gila monster glared at me through the wire mesh of his cage.

“Ugly beast,” I commented. “I think the black kitten should win.”

“like the looks of that Doberman myself,” Garnet remarked.

The parade ended with about twenty men dressed

in suits of armor and a few women in long, tattered dresses—the camp followers.

“What on earth does that have to do with Rose Rent Day?” I asked.

Garnet shrugged. “They show up for everything around here. Apple Fest, Corn Festival, Civil War battles, supermarket openings, you name it. I guess it’s okay as long as they think they’re having fun.”

“What will they do after the parade?”

“They’ll camp in back of the Holiday Inn and hold a jousting tournament later in the day. The people who are too poor to go to the Mystery Dinner at the castle and too sophisticated for the Monster Tractor Pull will turn out for that.”

Finally, the parade was over, and Garnet turned on his engine. He dropped me off behind the courthouse, and the last I saw of him was his truck cutting down a one-way alley the wrong way.

Mark had already taken his seat on the platform when I reached the square. He was watching the last of the paraders march by, their armor, which I suspected was mostly made of recycled beer cans, clanking, and their swords raised in salute. He graciously acknowledged them with a royal wave that King Arthur would have approved of.

I pushed forward until I was standing right in front of the platform and next to Alice-Ann. Her eyes grew misty when she saw me.

“Wouldn’t Richard be proud of him,” she whispered.

“I’m sure he is.” I squeezed her hand.

“Look, here comes Sylvia. The ceremony is about to start.”

“I can’t believe she’s recovered enough to be here.”

“Recovered from what?” Alice-Ann asked curiously.

“I forgot to tell you, but after LaVonna’s body was found, she collapsed. She had a high fever, and Dr. Jones wanted to put her in the hospital.”

“But naturally, she wouldn’t go because of the Rose Rent ceremony.”

Sylvia was helped onto the platform by Praxythea and began a long-winded speech reminding everyone there that it was due to her efforts that the Rose Rent ceremony had been reinstated after having been forgotten for nearly a hundred years. Then she suggested a moment of silent prayer for the recently deceased Richard MacKinstrie, Judge Parker, and LaVonna Hockenberry. Most of the moment was far from silent, since not all of the spectators knew of Judge Parker’s death and word hadn’t gotten out yet about LaVonna’s demise. Questions buzzed like bees through the crowd.

Sylvia finally stepped down from the platform and came to stand between Alice-Ann and me. Her face was flushed.

“You belong in bed,” I whispered to her.

“Later. This is far more important.” As she spoke, her knees buckled, and I seized her arm to keep her from sinking to the pavement. She let out a small cry of pain and pulled away from me. “Don’t grab me like that!” she said nastily, rubbing her arm.

“Sorry. I was just trying to keep you from falling.”

“Next time, mind your own business,” she hissed.

A chorus of shhhhs surrounded us, so I turned away from the grumpy old woman to watch the activity on the platform.

Three adorable little girls, wearing old-fashioned white frocks, ascended the stage, each carrying a beautiful red rose. Fowler’s Flowers must have come through with some new ones, since I knew where two of the original ones were.

Mark stood and accepted their tributes, one at a time, bowing politely to each of them as they curtsied. Then it was time for the formal serving of doughnuts and coffee. As soon as Mark had been served, people began lining up at the tables on the sidewalks to receive their snacks.

Alice-Ann brought Mark down to earth, literally and figuratively, wiping the grease off his fingers and taking the roses before they were completely crushed. “I’m proud of you, honey. And Daddy would have been proud, too.”

Mark beamed. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

“You sure were,” I put in.

“Can I go play now?” Mark asked his mother.

“Run along. I’ll meet you down at the creek in an hour to watch The Accident.”

He took off with the three little girls close behind.

A quavering-voiced woman from the Ladies Poetry Society was reciting “Ode to a Rose” on the marble steps of the Lickin Creek National Bank. I grabbed a doughnut, and we moved out of listening range, where we narrowly missed being run down by a

horde of skateboarders preparing for their competition.

“We’d better get out of here before the bed races start,” said Alice-Ann, laughing. “Do you want to come watch The Accident?”

“I think I’ve had all the excitement I can handle. Since everyone in town appears to be here, I’d like to borrow your car and do some uninterrupted investigating. I want to look through Richard’s office myself and then go out to the castle. It still worries me that we haven’t found any of Richard’s research papers. Sylvia claimed a couple of days ago that the project was hers, and Richard was only assisting her. That’s just the opposite of what he claimed. I want to poke around and see if I can’t turn up something.”

Alice-Ann handed me her keys and told me the address of Richard’s office. “We’ll get Mrs. Seligman, or someone, to give us a ride home.”

“Thanks,” I said, then noticed Sylvia leaning against one of the bank’s Doric columns. She was clutching Praxythea’s arm and looked as if she was about to collapse.

“Sylvia,” I said, hurrying to her side. “I think you’d better see the doctor.”

She didn’t argue, which was proof to me that she was really sick. I ran back to the parking lot behind the courthouse and found Alice-Ann’s disreputable VW.

Main Street was blocked off to traffic, so I tooted at the fireman manning the barricade and convinced him to let me drive there. A lot of happy celebrants grudgingly moved out of my way. It took two strong men to load the almost unconscious woman into the car. She insisted Praxythea come with us.

“I’m taking you to the clinic,” I said.

“Nooo,” Sylvia protested weakly.

“Yes,” I said firmly as I guided the Bug safely through the crowd—just in time, the beds were lining up at the end of the street.

Praxythea guided me through the maze of one-way streets to the clinic, which was a low, modern building of brick and glass, devoid of character and hideous in contrast to the neighboring Victorian buildings. I pulled up at the ambulance entrance, where an orderly yelled at me to move. Once he saw who was in the car with me, though, we were immediately surrounded by attentive men and women in white, and Sylvia was efficiently spirited away in a wheelchair, still clutching Praxythea’s hand in a death grip. As soon as she was out of sight, the orderly grew surly again and ordered me to move my car at once.

I circled the clinic for about twenty minutes looking for a place to park. Finally, desperate, I gave up trying to be ethical and pulled into the only empty spot, which was marked
MINISTERS
ONLY
.

Garnet was standing in the lobby talking to Dr. Jones.

“How is Sylvia?” I asked them.

“She’s got blood poisoning,” the doctor said. “I discovered it this morning after she collapsed at the castle. I gave her a penicillin shot and told her to stay in bed and not go to the ceremony, but naturally she didn’t listen. Now she’s had a serious relapse.

“She got some nasty puncture wounds on her arms from the thornbushes the night Richard’s body was found. If she’d shown them to me then, I would have started her on penicillin right away, but all I saw were the scratches on her hands, and I thought simply treating them with an antibiotic ointment would be sufficient. With all those people wandering in and out of the bushes, about half the town got scratched. We’re lucky no one else got that sick.”

“Is she going to be all right?” I asked.

“Oh, she’ll be fine, no doubt. Tough old broad. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to attend to. LaVonna’s autopsy took up most of my morning. Several people at the Rose Rent ceremony passed out from heat exhaustion, and I have to get to them.”

He disappeared through the emergency room doors.

“Garnet, I didn’t get to finish telling you what I learned yesterday. I talked to Mrs. O’Brien and she said she saw the judge, alive, when Rose left his house.”

Garnet’s jaw clenched. “I thought I told you …”

“There’s no law against asking questions.”

“All right. Here’s something for you to stew about. I’ve learned Alice-Ann had another motive to kill her husband.”

“Like what? I thought you were through with suspecting Alice-Ann.”

“I’m never through suspecting anybody until I have a crime solved, Tori. Richard had a large life-insurance policy. Enough to cover most of his debts. If she collects, she won’t have to lose the house.”

“What do you mean ‘if she collects’?”

“She can’t collect if she’s convicted of murdering him.”

The hair on the back of my neck bristled. “And what motive do you think she had for murdering the judge?”

“Tori, how many murders do you think were committed last week in New York City?”

“Twelve? Thirty?”

“Do you think all those people were killed by the same person?”

“I get your point. Does this mean you’re looking for two murderers?”

“One, two, ten; I don’t really know. But I won’t stop till someone’s behind bars.”

“I see. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

I wasted no time saying good-bye. Somehow, I had to prove to him that Praxythea, not Alice-Ann, was the murderer.

I stopped at Richard’s office and let myself in with Alice-Ann’s keys. like Garnet and Alice-Ann, I didn’t find anything there about his research project.