Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) (16 page)

“But now he’s back and they’re getting married?” Liv asked.

“That’s the plan,” Edna said. “But she won’t leave home until her father gets better.”

Both sisters sighed and shook their heads.

“Roger’s not going to get better, poor soul,” Ida said quietly.

“And Jason is too proud to live with the Newlands. He’s determined to support his family. So everything is at a standstill.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.” Ida took the yearbook from Liv. “Have you ever had English trifle? I have my mother’s recipe. Maybe I’ll make it for Christmas dinner.”

BeBe and Liv left a few minutes later. Ida and Edna stood at the front door to see them out.

“Well, that was an eye-opener,” BeBe said, weaving slightly as they walked down the frosty driveway to Liv’s cottage. “Are you going to tell Bill Gunnison all you learned today?” Ida asked.

“Yes. Though it’s really only gossip.”

“Gossip isn’t always wrong, you know.”

“True,” Liv said. “What do you say we order in tonight? That mulled wine went down way too easily.”

“Boy, did it. How about Chinese?”

Liv unlocked the door and Whiskey bolted out.

“You’d think I’d been gone a week instead of a couple of hours. Do you want to go inside while I wait for him to come back?”

“I’ll stay out here; the cold is doing wonders to clear my head.”

Liv laughed. Whiskey checked out a few bushes, looked back at Liv, and headed inside. “Guess he’s hungry.”

While Liv opened a can of dog food and put down fresh water, BeBe called the China Sun and they went out to the living room to wait for the delivery.

Liv pulled out her laptop.

“Are you going to do work now?”

“No. I’m just jotting down some notes about what we learned today.” She turned her laptop screen so BeBe could see.

“Spreadsheet?”

“Lesson plan.”

“What?”

“Something Miss Ida and Miss Edna suggested during the last, you know. See, there’s a column for information. One for the purpose of said info. One for action. One for outcome.”

“And you said you weren’t investigating.”

“I’m not. Just keeping the facts straight, so I stay on top of everything. You wouldn’t believe, the tiniest thing can unravel an entire event. Can turn a sure thing into a flop. So imagine what a murder could do.”

“Oh, I see what you mean. Sort of.”

“I just like to be prepared for any contingency.”

“Even murder.”

“Even murder.”

Over pork dumplings, beef with broccoli, and shrimp lo mein, they reviewed what they’d overheard during the house tour. Liv entered it all into her spreadsheet/lesson plan document with one hand while she ate with the other. Whiskey sat on the floor between them waiting for a wayward morsel to drop. Which happened quite often when you were using chopsticks and typing at the same time.

Once they’d closed up the leftovers and taken out the trash, Liv insisted on driving BeBe back to the Buttercup to get her car. “Since the sisters cleared a space in the garage, life has gotten a lot easier.”

“But you always walk to work.”

“I need the exercise and so does Whiskey. Plus it’s invigorating.”

“Especially when the temperature is single digits.”

“I’m prepared for the cold. I did some serious online shopping when I got the job. Besides, I’m totally paranoid about it snowing while I’m at work and having to shovel my way out of the parking lot at the end of the day.”

They bundled up in outerwear, and Whiskey trotted over to be put on the leash.

“I’m coming right back, buddy. Stay.”

BeBe waited until Liv backed out far enough to close the garage door, then they both got in.

“This was a really long day; it’s a good thing I close early on Sundays,” BeBe said as they drove toward the Buttercup.

“It was long, but fun. I’m glad you suggested the tour. Work and pleasure, but mostly pleasure.” Liv turned into the parking lot at the back of the row of stores.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I saw the lights on at TAT when I closed up this afternoon. Grace’s car is still here. That silver Mercedes under the light post. Do you think they’re going to try to open tomorrow?”

“I have no idea. I’m sure the crime scene was cleared before they let Grace back in, but it still has to be a big cleanup job. All those broken decorations and . . .”

“Euww. Maybe that’s what they were doing all afternoon.”

“Let’s just do a little reconnaissance, shall we?” Liv pulled into an empty parking place near the pedestrian walkway.

“You mean spy on Trim a Tree?”

“We’ll just take a look. I’d like to see for myself what Grace Thornsby is up to.” And if they saw anything, anything at all, that looked suspicious, Liv would call the sheriff. She was getting tired of the Thornsbys and their theatrics.

“Right,” BeBe said. “A reconnaissance.”

They stopped to look down the alley toward the Trim a Tree store. The alley was empty and dark except for the security lights.

A short detour through the pedestrian way to the street brought them in front of TAT. The brown paper was still covering the windows, but there was a sliver of light coming from inside.

Liv and BeBe exchanged looks.

“Should we knock on the door?” BeBe asked.

“And say what,
Are you meeting your lover later tonight?
Oh, and by the way, what’s his name again?
”

BeBe spluttered a laugh. Clapped her hand over her mouth. “So what should we do?” she whispered.

“Well, we could go home to bed, or we could wait for a while and see where she goes.”

“You mean to the Blue Boar?”

Liv shrugged. “I don’t see Bill out here following her, do you?”

BeBe’s eyes lit up.

“We will not engage. Just check it out and tell Bill if we find out anything.”

“Fine by me. I wouldn’t know what to say if we did catch her in flagrante.”

“Oh, please—I wonder.”

“What?”

“I wonder if that’s what Phillip Cosgrove was investigating.”

BeBe’s eyes rounded. “I bet it is. And if Grace found out . . . Oh Lord.”

Liv shivered. “It’s unlikely. It’s freezing out here. Maybe we should call it a night.”

“No way,” BeBe said. “We can watch from the Buttercup where it’s warm.”

They took turns looking out the delivery door of the coffee bar. BeBe made them decaf tea. They shared an almond biscotti. An hour passed and Liv was yawning, when a rectangle of light appeared on the alley pavement.

“BeBe.” Liv motioned her to the door and they both peered out as three women carrying buckets, vacuums, and other cleaning paraphernalia came out of TAT. The door closed behind them.

“Grace must still be in there,” BeBe whispered.

Liv checked her phone for the time. Almost nine and she was exhausted. She yawned again. “Twenty more minutes and I’m off to bed.”

It was seventeen minutes before the door to TAT opened again and Grace Thornsby came out wearing a midlength fur coat.

“So not PC,” BeBe whispered.

Grace locked the door, then walked cautiously toward the opening to the parking lot.

“It’s amazing that she doesn’t fall on her skinny butt wearing those boots in the ice and snow. I bet those heels are four inches high.”

“Seems like an odd choice of clothing for scrubbing floors,” Liv said.

“She probably just watched to make sure they didn’t miss anything.” BeBe shivered. “Do you think . . . ? No never mind, I don’t want to think about what they were cleaning up.”

They watched until she’d disappeared through the parking lot opening.

“Now what?”

Liv shrugged. “We could go home, or we could just take a little look-see to find out where she’s going . . . dressed so fine.”

They scrambled into their coats. While BeBe locked up, Liv crept to the opening in the fence. She’d been skulking around in alleys a lot this month, and she automatically glanced around to make sure no one—Chaz Bristow in particular—was going to jump out at her. She pressed up against the security fence and eased her head out in time to see the Mercedes backing out of a parking place. She windmilled her arm to hurry BeBe along.

“All right, let’s go.” BeBe shoved her keys into her coat pocket, and they took off at a trot to Liv’s car.

They caught up to the Mercedes as it turned onto Third Street.

“I’m feeling a little silly,” Liv said, her eyes glued to the car in front of them.

“Oh no. We’re aiding the investigation.”

“We’re probably breaking the law. But what the hey, we’re here, we might as well try to move things along.”

Ten minutes later, the Mercedes pulled into a parking lot of a rectangular one-storied building. Liv slowed and parked at the curb where she could see the Mercedes and the sign.

“Rock Road Fitness Center? Are you kidding me?” Liv heaved a frustrated sigh. “Who besides Grace Thornsby would come to a gym in a fur coat and stiletto boots?”

As she spoke, the side door opened and a man came out. He was midheight, extremely buff, and midthirties, max.

“Guess she isn’t planning to do her sweating at the gym tonight,” BeBe said.

“Guess not,” said Liv. “Though let’s not jump to conclusions. It could be her son. No, someone said she didn’t have children. Her nephew or . . .”

The man opened the door, and Grace stepped out of the car and into his arms. And into a major tongue-wrestling kiss. “Okay, not her nephew. Looks like we just confirmed the rumor we heard today. Grace Thornsby is having an affair.”

“Euww,” BeBe said.

“Yeah, I’m getting a pretty icky visual myself. Not that I have anything against cougars, but imagining Grace with anybody skeeves me out.”

The man walked Grace over to the passenger side and held the door for her. Then he got into the driver’s seat.

“You know,” Liv said, “if it was this easy for us to find out where she was going, Phil Cosgrove probably already knew. So what was he doing sticking around playing Santa?”

“Maybe he wasn’t investigating
her
.”

“Hmm,” Liv said. “It’s possible. Clarence, maybe? Or anyone on that side of the green. Or an employee? Penny Newland?”

“Oh no. That would be terrible.”

It would indeed, thought Liv. Penny did have a couple of hours unaccounted for before the tree lighting, and she wouldn’t say where she’d been. What was she hiding?

The Mercedes turned right out of the parking lot.

“Now what? Do we keep following them?”

Liv deliberated. “It’s tempting, but I think I have a better use for our time.” She turned off the engine and opened the car door.

“What are you doing?”

“Going into the gym, want to come? With all this weather, I haven’t been able to keep up my daily runs, and here we are at a fitness center. Maybe I’ll sign up.”

“Uh-huh,” said BeBe and got out the other side.

The first thing that Liv noticed when she walked through the doors of Rock Road Fitness was the steam and the smell. Not your average Upper East Side health club.

The gym was small and minimal, painted a nondescript beige and finished in linoleum and industrial carpet. A few desultory Christmas decorations hung haphazardly around the sign-in desk. Rap music played through overhead speakers.

Several weight lifters were groaning under their barbells. And a few women in tiny color-coordinated workout suits ran on treadmills or went through circuit training with their personal trainers.

Liv walked up to the desk.

A young woman, buff and spray tanned, looked up and smiled her close-this-deal smile. “Can I help you?”

Liv smiled back. “I’ve been thinking about joining, and I think I just saw my old trainer leave as I was coming in. It would be great if I could work with him again.”

“Let’s see, would that be . . . She looked over a clipboard. “Jerry Esposito just left.”

“Jerry. So it
was
him.”

“Yeah, you probably had him at Jake’s Gym. He was there before he came here. Unfortunately, he’s already leaving, though I can set you up with Geordie. He’s really good.”

“I’m sure he is, but I was really hoping to get Jerry again. Do you know where he’s going?”

“He’s getting out of the business. Said his ship just came in, whatever that means.”

Liv thought she knew exactly what he meant.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well, don’t wait too long. You want to get rid of those extra pounds before the holidays. And we’re running a special this week.”

Extra pounds? Liv was wearing a down coat. “Do you have a handout?”

The girl, sensing she’d lost a sale, reluctantly handed Liv a printed paper. “This lists our different programs. Just give us a call or come in and I can sign you up.”

“Thank you,” Liv said and hustled BeBe out the door.

“How did you learn to do that?” BeBe asked on a giggle.

“Many years of staying one step ahead of clients who tried to stiff me. Forensic event planning.”

They walked back across the street to the car.

“So now we know who Grace is seeing. I wonder if Bill knows.”

“You could ask him,” BeBe suggested.

“No way. I’ll mention it to Ted. He’ll do the rest. In the meantime, why don’t we swing by the Blue Boar on our way home and see if Grace’s Mercedes is there.”

Grace’s Mercedes was not at the Blue Boar. And neither was anyone else. It seems the Blue Boar was closed Sunday nights.

Sunday. It was still Sunday, Liv thought and stifled a yawn. “I’m beat. We did what we could. Let’s call it a day.”

She drove BeBe back to the parking lot, waited until she started her Subaru, and then drove home as big fat flakes of snow began to fall.

*

Snow. At least five new inches of it. Liv leaned her forehead against the kitchen door. Snow. Monday. She was already exhausted. Not a good sign. Must be the letdown after all that planning for Santa’s arrival and the Celebration of Lights. Not to mention the house tour, the mulled wine, and her late-night investigation of Grace Thornsby.

Liv was learning to love freshly fallen snow. In the city it stayed beautiful for about as long as it took to hit the ground. Before taxis, trucks, and traffic jams left the black of their exhaust fumes blanketing the surface.

Here, there was traffic, but it seemed the snow stayed fresh longer, especially off the main roads. Like in front of her carriage house. Neither she nor the sisters would take their cars out until after the plows came.

At least they’d gotten through the weekend before this latest accumulation, and if it moved through fast, the town could be ploughed out by the next weekend rush.

Liv was actually looking forward to Christmas. Especially if the Zimmerman sisters were going to cook. She hadn’t spent Christmas with her family in years, but with her job, her parents enjoying retirement by nonstop traveling, and her siblings spread out over the country, it was impossible. She’d even considered trying to get back to the city, but since moving here, she’d always been too busy to leave, even for a weekend. Besides, most of her friends who could get time off headed for the islands. Which brought her mind squarely back to TAT and its tacky swimsuit-wearing Santas.

Something had to be done. They could survive one Christmas with plastic hula dancers, but come this time next year, Liv planned to have a tasteful store in its stead. One that stayed open all year.

Whiskey padded into the kitchen, gave her an accusing look, and crossed to the door. “I know it’s early. But we have things to do. People to see. Snooping to report. And . . . you at least will be very happy.”

She opened the kitchen door. “Ta-da.”

Whiskey stopped at the open door, looked out at the drifts that covered the kitchen stoop, took a couple of warm-up prances, and shot out the door.

Liv watched, shivering as he tunneled through the snow, nose to the ground, like a fluffy white mole, creating crazy eights and dead ends across the backyard. Then he popped up, shook, looked back at her with the snow caked on his muzzle, and took off again for a tour of the Zimmerman’s shrubs.

The snow was still cloaked in early-morning shadows. But soon it would be sparkly on the trees and softening the lights of the Christmas decorations. Liv made a mental note to contact the photographer to do some new “Christmas in the Snow” shots of the town for next year’s brochure.

Her cell phone beeped. Somebody was pinging her already and it was hardly seven o’clock. Whiskey was still frolicking, so she picked it up on her way to the closet to get towels for cleanup duty once he came in again. She’d leave any outside cleanup until she was fully dressed.

The message was from a Manhattan costume shop. She read the text.
Sorry
.
Suits all out. May have one coming in Wed. Good Luck.

Thanks to the Stitch in Time ladies, an appropriate name if ever there was one, they had a Santa suit, and a very beautiful one. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup—and not a rental one.

She might be able to afford one out of miscellaneous expenditures. Maybe Grace would be interested in selling the TAT suit. Since she wouldn’t be needing it, she might sell it cheap.

Whiskey came to the back door. Barked. But when Liv opened the door, he ran off again.

“Sorry, bud. We don’t have time to play today. Come on.”

Whiskey stopped, facedown, rump up, tail in the air. He watched her until she stepped toward him, then took off again.

“Don’t make me come after you.” Of course that’s just what he wanted. She was glad one of them was bright eyed and energetic this morning.

She crossed her arms over her nightshirt and frowned at him. He stopped, watching her. She felt her lips quiver. She fought the smile. It was so ridiculous. You couldn’t make a Westie feel guilty. They were the princes of dogs. In their minds at least. She gave it up.