Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_02 (29 page)

“Hello, Brooke. I was telling Chuck that Henrie O’s here to give us some help on an appropriate memorial for Patty Kay.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I’m so glad you could come.” Her hand touched my arm. “It’s
so
important.”

Every word Desmond and Brooke said made it more difficult for Selwyn to object.

The headmaster nodded grudgingly. “Very good of you to take the time, Mrs. Collins,” he said stiffly.

As the grandfather clock in the corner chimed seven, Stuart Pierce and Willis Guthrie entered together. Cheryl Kraft was the last to arrive. For once she didn’t appear elegant. Her silk dress was crumpled, her too-thin face distressed.

“God,” she said to me, “you made it too. God, what a dreadful thing.” If the others heard her husky, subdued voice, they gave no sign of it.

Selwyn waved us toward his office. “Please find a comfortable chair. And I have coffee—”

I slipped up beside Desmond. “I’ve been at the bookstore. Did you—”

He cut me off. “Yes. Craig’s home now. I think he’s okay.”

That wasn’t my first concern, but Desmond had no way of knowing that.

“—and sodas if anyone would like one.”

Selwyn had no takers. This was one board meeting that would have no aura of a social gathering.

Desmond quickly brought the meeting to order.

The somber-faced trustees watched and listened as Desmond spoke.

“… a double toll on our faculty and students and patrons. I know that we …”

Selwyn was trying hard to appear appropriately sorrowful, yet calmly in charge. But it was a struggle. He gave me a final sharp glance, then looked away. His mouth turned
down. He looked more like a petulant schoolboy than a schoolmaster.

Desmond paused, his voice choking. “… all of you know that Patty Kay and I were such old and …”

Desmond’s grief was reflected in Stuart Pierce’s grim face. Patty Kay’s lover and former husband stared morosely down at his tightly clasped hands, his gaze bleak and despairing.

“… difficult for our students to cope with the demise of a classmate. It is very important that we emphasize how all of us—students, faculty, parents, trustees—are available at any time to those in despair. We can’t …”

Willis Guthrie smothered a yawn. It was probably as well for him that neither Stuart nor Desmond was looking his way.

“… at the assembly tomorrow I will describe the counseling services that …”

Brooke watched Desmond with anguished eyes. Once again I recognized a mother’s terror, the unspoken fear that one young suicide might trigger another and another and another. Everyone in this room knew the turmoil and uncertainty and depression that tumultuous hormone levels can create. All too well we knew that no teenager could be considered immune, no matter how outwardly happy or well-adjusted.

The passions and fears and heartbreaks of the young burn brighter and fiercer than those tempered by age and experience.

I hoped that experienced eyes were watching all the young people in Fair Haven for the next few weeks.

“… necessary for all of us to present a reassuring face to the world.”

Cheryl Kraft broke in sharply. “That’s easy enough for you to say, Desmond! I can’t believe what’s happened to
our lovely, lovely town. Two hideous murders in Fair Haven in less than a week—”

At the shocked looks from around the table, her eyes blazed. “The poor dear little clerk at Patty Kay’s bookstore, found this afternoon in a
dumpster!
I feel that we must
demand
more capable police protection, and I intend—”

“Dumpster!” Stuart’s handsome head jerked toward her.

The meeting halted as Cheryl described the afternoon.

Selwyn’s face puckered in distaste.

Brooke pressed a slender hand hard against her mouth.

Even Willis Guthrie appeared shaken.

Finally, Desmond interrupted firmly. “Wait, please. We’re all appalled at what’s happened, but, please, let’s focus on Walden School’s situation. There’s nothing we can do about the murder at the bookstore except support Captain Walsh in his investigation. And certainly we will do that. But we have extremely serious matters to discuss tonight. Before we get into our work, I want to welcome Mrs. Collins, who is visiting us tonight to represent Patty Kay and Craig.”

“Thank you, Desmond.” I looked at each trustee in turn. “I’ll be brief. I know the board has much to discuss. But I understand a memorial to Patty Kay is under consideration. Both Craig and I believe the finest memorial Walden School could make would be to honor Patty Kay’s last request. The problem, of course, is that although we know she considered the dinner meeting at her house to be very important, we don’t know why. So, I’ll ask each of you to help if you can.”

Selwyn jumped in. “I can’t be certain, of course, Mrs. Collins, but I do think it was the flying project. I’d told her I was absolutely opposed to it. We’d had a sharp exchange about it Friday morning, and it was Friday afternoon that
my secretary took the message saying the dinner was scheduled.” He flipped that boyish lock of hair back from his forehead. “I’ll have to admit I wasn’t happy with Patty Kay.” His voice oozed the regret of hindsight. “I felt she should at least look into the aspects I’d brought up. Especially the legal liability. We all know how little waivers can mean. But once Patty Kay got an idea in her head, it was hard to get her attention.” A rueful smile. “As everyone here well knows.”

Stuart Pierce scowled. “She didn’t say a word about flying to me. Her call came just as I was going into a meeting with out-of-town clients. She said, ‘Stuart, I’m having the trustees for dinner Saturday night at seven. We’ve got a problem out at school.’ Before she could continue, I said I had to get into a meeting, but I’d come.”

The anguish in his eyes told me he was recalling that conversation as the last time he’d spoken to Patty Kay—as the last time he would ever speak to Patty Kay.

“A problem out at school,” I repeated. I looked at Selwyn. “That doesn’t sound like a disagreement over a course. And I find it quite interesting that there was not a single mention of a flying course in
any
of Patty Kay’s papers. I know. I looked.”

“Of course not.” Selwyn was bland. “1 told you. She’d come up with this plan only this week. And of course she saw it as a problem.” Irritation sharpened his voice. “Anytime anyone disagreed with Patty Kay, it was a problem. The
problem
was that I opposed her.”

“What Patty Kay wanted or didn’t want doesn’t matter.” Willis Guthrie’s tone was querulous. His pale blue eyes skewed me with dislike. “What matters is that you’re causing trouble for all of us. You’re running around town stirring things up, Mrs. Collins, telling the police lies.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I gave him stare for stare. “I hope
to cause a lot of trouble. I’m going to find out who killed Patty Kay and why. I thought those close to her would not only understand but approve my actions.”

“I certainly applaud them.” Cheryl Kraft’s earrings made their ghostly chime. “And I must say I think it’s very odd—odd indeed—that no one knows why Patty Kay called this meeting. She wouldn’t tell me. I asked her and she said the matter would be made clear at our dinner. But I certainly stand behind your efforts to find out what happened, Mrs. Collins. We
owe
it to Patty Kay.” She gave a determined nod, and the earrings tinkled.

“So you want to encourage this old woman to stir up trouble, send the police after us?” Guthrie’s voice was savage.

Cheryl lifted a finely penciled eyebrow. “Mrs. Collins should do whatever is necessary.” Her gaze was imperious.

“Well, my wife and I don’t appreciate being treated like suspects.” Guthrie slammed a hand on the table.

I knew that the police inquiry that prompted Guthrie’s outburst was caused by Desmond’s honesty and not my probing, but I was quite willing to take the responsibility. And I was delighted at the uneasiness I sensed. Good oh, as an Australian friend loved to shout when news conferences turned rowdy.

I pressed on. “The truth is, Willis, your wife and her sister were quarreling, and Patty Kay’s death brings a lot of money to Pamela.”

“That didn’t mean a thing,” he sputtered. “I told Captain Walsh you’re nothing but a troublemaker. It’s obvious what happened. Craig got mad and shot Patty Kay. Everyone knows it.”

“No!” Stuart Pierce shoved back his chair. It crashed to the floor as he surged to his feet, his eyes blazing. “Everybody
doesn’t
know it, Willis. The whole setup stinks. Patty
Kay never ran from anybody. Especially not from Craig. And that stuff was thrown around the kitchen after she was dead. That lets out Craig.”

“Unless it’s a double bluff.” Willis’s face flushed an unkind hue. “Be just like him. Thinks he’s so damn clever.”

So that was where Captain Walsh had gotten his theory.

During this heated exchange Brooke had looked from Willis to Stuart to Willis as if at a tennis match. Now she shook her head decisively, a touch of color in her pale cheeks, her lovely black hair swirling around her face. “No, no, it can’t be Craig. We’d have known if Patty Kay and Craig weren’t happy. Women know these kinds of things about their friends,” she explained earnestly.

Stuart leaned down, jerked the chair upright, then stalked to the mantel. He faced the wall, his back to the others.

There was no hint that Brooke knew about Stuart and Patty Kay’s secret trysts. So much for feminine intuition.

Of course, Brooke was right on one count. Patty Kay and Craig hadn’t been unhappy. But they hadn’t been passionately in love either. Perhaps that made for a certain kind of happiness. But that wasn’t my focus right now.

Willis Guthrie was angry and flustered. So I kept after him. “Mr. Guthrie, what did Patty Kay tell you about the Saturday evening dinner?”

“I didn’t talk to her.” He bit off the words, his sallow face twisted in a furious frown. “My secretary took the message. I didn’t want to go—but Pamela thought I should. Patty Kay kept trying to give that land from the estate to the school. We’ve given Walden School a great deal—but there are limits.” His pale eyes locked with Selwyn’s.

The headmaster fingered his rep tie. “Mr. Guthrie, this school owes its very existence to the Prentiss family. Certainly
we understand that you and Mrs. Guthrie have other interests too. But I wonder if it would help achieve peace in your hearts—at the loss of Mrs. Guthrie’s sister—if you might be willing now to agree to reserving that land for Walden School. Why”—eagerness lifted his voice—“we could agree tonight—I know the board would be happy to do so—to name the wilderness preserve the Patty Kay Prentiss Matthews and Pamela Prentiss Guthrie Nature Preserve. Such a gift to our present students and to future generations of Walden students …”

I hoped Selwyn wasn’t holding his breath on this one.

Guthrie didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, he glared at me. “I don’t have any idea what my sister-in-law had in mind. But I know for sure it had nothing to do with the land. That deal’s been cooking for a year. Nothing new’s happened.”

“Actually, Mr. Guthrie, that’s not accurate.”

The derisive note in my voice caught their attention.

Stuart Pierce turned to listen.

Brooke Forrest’s hands trembled, and she caught them together in a hard grasp.

Chuck Selwyn brushed back that lock of hair.

Desmond’s dark eyes were puzzled.

Patty Kay’s weedy brother-in-law tensed. “What do you mean?”

“The situation is profoundly different—because Patty Kay died. That land is now in the sole control of your wife.”

Guthrie couldn’t quite keep the gleam of satisfaction out of his eye. But he said nothing.

I persisted. “Isn’t it?”

“Actually”—he used the word as a taunt—“I’d not even thought about it until you brought it up. My wife and I have been much too upset over Patty Kay’s death to have given any thought at all to the disposition of her estate.”

I wouldn’t have wanted to be Willis Guthrie at that moment.

They all looked at him in disgust. Desmond, Stuart, Brooke, Cheryl, even Selwyn.

Guthrie smoothed his skimpy ginger mustache. Even he realized that his insincerity was sickening to those who had loved Patty Kay.

Stuart Pierce strode across the room. “How much is that land worth now, Willis? Two million? Three?” But Stuart’s question had nothing to do with money. “How much did you and Pamela want that money?” His voice had a dangerous edge.

Guthrie swallowed nervously, leaning back in his chair. “That is an extremely unwarranted inference. Very unfair. We have every right—”

“Sure. You sure do. Especially now that Patty Kay’s dead.” Pierce wheeled around, moving away, and I knew he didn’t trust himself that close to Guthrie.

Guthrie knew it too. He licked his thin lips, nervously smoothed his mustache.

“Willis, when did Pamela and Patty Kay last talk about that land?” I inquired.

Guthrie didn’t answer.

I let it go. I figured I’d had my run at him. I said, “Brooke, what did Patty Kay say to you?”

“About the dinner?” Her aquamarine eyes clung to my face.

“Yes.”

Brooke sighed and wearily massaged her temple. “I was late for tennis when she called Friday morning, so when she said she was going to have a special dinner meeting, I said sure, what time, and that was it.” She spread her graceful hands helplessly. Her diamond wedding band—which had the look of an antique—sparkled. “I’m so sorry,” she
said unhappily. “I could tell she was bursting to talk.” Her eyes closed briefly. “And I didn’t take the time….”

“So,” I summed it up, “am I to understand that only Cheryl asked Patty Kay why she was having you trustees to dinner?”

Their silence was an answer.

It wasn’t the answer I’d expected.

Patty Kay Matthews knew the ins and outs of organizations, boards, groups, and committees. She certainly knew, as all skillful organizers know, that nothing happens in a committee unless the wheels are greased.

Patty Kay called a meeting about something that mattered enormously to her.

Why did she keep her reason a secret?