Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) (11 page)

The meeting room was packed by the time Liv and Ted arrived for the mayor’s hastily called gathering. They’d waited on purpose so they wouldn’t have to answer the same questions over and over again. People in Celebration Bay had already begun to turn to Liv to solve not only event problems but town problems in general.

Murder was definitely problematic—not to mention tragic, Liv thought as she and Ted walked down the hallway to the meeting room. And she had a moment of contrition.

“What?” Ted asked. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah. Actually I did.”

“I’ll run back and get it.”

“Not that kind. I’ve just been so busy doing triage that I hadn’t thought that there’s someone somewhere mourning the death of a loved one.”

“Yeah, but save it for after the meeting. You’ll need your total attention to avert a panic.”

“You think they’ll panic?”

“We can hear them all the way down the hall. They’re ready to blow. You can’t have a murder on Main Street without everyone’s life being thrown into confusion and fear.”

Liv knew that was true. And the “trustees and a few businesspeople” who attended sounded like an angry lynch mob.

Liv adjusted the strap on her computer case. Ted opened the door and they stepped into bedlam.

There must have been twenty in all. Just a sampling of the local business and community leaders. The noise didn’t diminish as she and Ted entered, just switched its focus to one individual. Liv.

She nodded and started to take her normal seat in the first row, where a projector had been set up for her presentation. She didn’t make it two feet before she was engulfed by questions.

“Liv, do they know who killed that man?”

“What’s going to happen to TAT?”

“You shouldn’t have let them move in. I knew they’d be trouble from the get-go.”

“And where was that expensive security service that we hired?”

“Yeah.”

“Big waste of town funds, if you ask me.”

“And where are the Thornsbys? They’re probably ashamed to show their faces in town.”

“Well, they should be.”

“Roger Newland shoulda never sold out to Clarence Thornsby.”

“That oily son of a—”

“Ain’t Clarence’s fault.”

“Well, whose fault is it then?”

Once again everyone looked at Liv.

Liv turned to Ted. “They don’t think it’s my fault, do they?”

“Not likely. They’re looking to you to solve the situation.”

“They can’t.”

“Before you came, when something went wrong, it just went wrong and we either muddled through or things came to a screeching halt. You actually fix things. It didn’t take much to convince them you could do it again.”

Fortunately, the mayor came in and the crowd redirected their barrage of questions at him. He held up one hand for quiet, which everyone ignored. Under his other arm was a copy of the report Liv had shot over to his office just an hour ago. She wondered if he’d had time to read it.

He was followed closely by Janine Tudor, who had been the event coordinator before Liv. It had been a volunteer position, and she’d been way out of her abilities. That didn’t stop her from blaming Liv for taking her job.

She was one of those tall, lettuce-and-rice-cakes-thin women who had their hair streaked and their nails done and who bought their clothes in a town larger than Celebration Bay and called it sophistication. She’d gone back to selling real estate with some success. But what she held over the mayor was anybody’s guess.

“Maybe she’ll be on the hot seat for a change,” Liv said. “She did broker the Thornsbys’ lease renewal on the store.”

Ted smiled a Cheshire-cat grin. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The mayor took his place at the podium on the raised dais at the front of the meeting room. Janine sat in one of the empty chairs that formed a row across the dais.

Janine had no official reason for being there, but she was like a bad penny: no one could figure out how to lose her.

“Wonder what Janine’s up to tonight,” Liv mused with little interest. She and Ted both knew that whatever it was, it would be designed to make Liv look bad.

Mayor Worley lifted the gavel from the podium and whacked it several times. The trustees emerged from the pack like sinners at a revival meeting and took their places in the other chairs on the dais.

Roscoe Jackson, owner of the local general store; Rufus Cobb from Cobb’s B and B; and Jeremiah Atkins, banker and landlord, sat side by side in three chairs. Janine sat in the fourth. One chair and one trustee were missing. Chaz Bristow, unwilling trustee and uninterested bystander, had once again failed to make an appearance.

The rest of the invited guests settled into seats behind Liv and Ted. Liv didn’t like having her back to the others. Hard to read your crowd or be persuasive when you couldn’t look them in the eye.

“The meeting will come to order,” the mayor said.

Everyone settled down, more or less.

“I’ve asked all of you to attend this trustee meeting to apprise you of our current situation. As you know, there was an unfortunate incident during the tree lighting ceremony last night. I’m sure you all have questions.”

“If you can answer them,” said Quincy Hinks, owner of the Bookworm.

“We’ll answer what we can. I’ve asked the sheriff to come a little later, and he may have some answers that I don’t have. But before we do any of that, I’ve asked Liv Montgomery to give an update on last night’s activities.”

“You find the killer yet, Liv?” came a voice from the crowd.

Liv’s face heated. They weren’t being fair. She hadn’t found the last one. It was rather the other way around.

She thought the mayor would intervene. If there was ever a time to wield his gavel, it was now. But he remained mute; he just joined the others and looked at her.

“I have a question.” Janine’s voice broke through the charged silence.

The mayor jumped as if she’d goosed him. “Why yes, Janine. The chair recognizes Janine Tudor.”

Janine stood. Nodded to Mayor Worley and turned to Liv. “What I and I’m sure a lot of others would like to know, is what that security service Liv just had to have was doing while someone was murdering that poor man.” She paused to touch her hand to her chest. “It could have been any of us.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to know that, too.”

“We’d all like to know.”

The mayor banged on the podium.

“That’s actually a good question,” Liv said. “Mr. Mayor, if I may.” As she started to stand, she caught sight of the door opening and a man sauntering in. Oh great. The editor of the
Celebration Clarion
had deigned to make an appearance and just in time to hear her make her most officious speech. Liv gritted her teeth.

Chaz grinned at her and slid into a seat behind hers. She slowly turned her head. “Why are you sitting down here instead of up there?” she said under her breath.

“Better view.” Chaz Bristow gave her the blandest look she’d seen on a face since she’d last seen him. She was sure he did it on purpose. “Come on, Manhattan, give ’em your old party of the first part.”

Liv gave him a bland look of her own and turned around. He might kid her about the way she talked, but it worked. On most people. Certainly not on Chaz Bristow, probably because he’d gotten used to using only a smidgeon of his brain.

All eyes turned to Liv.

She’d asked herself the same questions as they had, and she’d prepared the answer. “Bayside Security was hired to patrol the streets, supervise the crowds, ensure orderly behavior, and investigate suspicious activities.”

“What about the murder?” asked Jeremiah.

“Phil Cosgrove died inside the store, outside the normal jurisdiction of the security team.”

“Party of the second part . . .” mumbled Chaz.

Liv cleared her throat. “They saw nothing suspicious as far as I’ve been told. I’m sure they are cooperating with Bill Gunnison in the investigation.”

“I think we paid a lot of money for nothing,” Janine said.

“Like she paid for that dress she’s wearing,” Chaz mumbled.

Liv shot Chaz a stern look. “As I was saying, the security service did exactly what they were paid to do: keep the peace and protect the tourists in public places. I have here the initial report from A.K. Pierce, the head of Bayside Security.”

She plugged her laptop into the projector and the first page of the security report appeared on the screen behind the trustees. They all twisted around to see it.

“As you can see here, twenty guards, ten in plainclothes, were stationed in five areas. On foot, in radio contact, patrolling solo unless backup was required. And backup was never more than two minutes away.

“That left the controlling of traffic, including streets and parking lots, to the county police force.” She forwarded to the next page. “The blue represents the police, and the red, Bayside Security. As you can see, all areas where crowd control was needed were covered at all times.

“In this next view, you’ll see the preliminary statistics of crime thwarted or miscreants apprehended in a safe and quiet way.” She brought up Pierce’s chart. “As you can see, as compared to last year’s incident report, there were fewer fights, fewer pickpockets, fewer falls and accidents. All in all, they did a very good job.”

“That is impressive,” said Jeremiah.

“Yes, and I didn’t notice any major skirmishes like we had last year with those kids and beer and fireworks.” Dolly Hunnicutt smiled at Liv from her seat next to her husband, Fred.

Janine’s mouth tightened. “But still some thief was allowed to enter one of our stores and commit a tragic crime and no one noticed. All of our stores are at risk.”

Liv took a breath and stepped out on a limb. “Even the most assiduous patrol can’t always prevent a determined criminal.”

“Determined? You mean it was premeditated?” asked Rufus Cobb, chewing on his mustache. “I need to be assured of the safety of my guests.”

“I don’t know if it was planned or not. The point is, no matter how much
we
plan and how many people
we
hire—”

“Stuff happens.”

Liv acknowledged Chaz as formally as she could, and she had to admit, gratefully. “Well, yes, Mr. Bristow. Stuff does happen.” She addressed the others. “Last night’s festivities drew over a thousand people. Over fifty people made use of the first aid stations, mainly minor injuries and upset stomachs. The ambulance service reported two sprained ankles, a broken arm, several dizzy spells, and two possible heart attacks that necessitated the use of the ambulance. I’m happy to say, all with a positive outcome.”

“What did she say?” asked a voice from the back.

“Except for the murder, there were no casualties.”

“Shoulda never rented the place to Clarence Thornsby.”

“That wife of his would be enough to drive any man to murder.”

There was a smattering of laughter.

The mayor banged his gavel. “Now, folks, this is not time for talk like that.”

“Well, that part’s all water under the bridge,” Roscoe Jackson, the third trustee said. “What we should be talking about is what we’re going to do about the future. That Trim a Tree place is a nuisance. They mighta just brought their problems with them.”

“Yeah. And where is Clarence Thornsby? He sure seems to be taking a jaded lack of interest in what’s going on at his store.”

“And where is his wife?” Quincy Hinks asked. “If you ask me, there’s something havey-cavey going on over there.”

“Quincy is absolutely right.” Miriam Krause stood and gestured to the mayor. “We do need to deal with this. Putting paper over the windows is okay for a day or two. But we need a viable business in there and quick.”

Roscoe Jackson rose from his chair to his full five foot six. “Miriam’s right. An empty store front at the height of the shopping year makes all of us look bad. And I have to admit that so far, business at my general store has been better than it has been in years.” He nodded to Liv.

“Thank you, Roscoe,” the mayor said. “When Bill Gunnison gets here, you can ask him about how soon they can get back in.”

“Not them,” Roscoe said. “Something more in keeping with our town image.”

“You tell them, Roscoe,” someone shouted from the back of the room, setting off an avalanche of opinions.

“We can’t let them open back up with all that folderol in the window.”

“Well, we can’t let the business lie idle. A Christmas store at the peak of the Christmas season?”

Roscoe jumped to his feet. “I think Jeremiah should evict them and let someone put a new business in there pronto.”

“And just who do you suggest? Yourself?” Jeremiah shot back.

“Not me, I’m doing just fine at my present location. But hell, if you hadn’t raised the rents, we might still have the Newlands’ gift store in there instead of some hoochie-koo business.”

The room erupted in opinions.