Turkey Day Murder (19 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Turkey Day Murder
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“What do you mean? Didn't the Metinnicuts hire you?”
“No way. It was my idea,” he said. “You see, I've known Andy for a long time. We went to college together. When he told me the local tribe was trying to get federal recognition, I approached Bear Sykes. He hadn't even thought of a casino until I mentioned it. I mean, of course they'd thought of it, but they hadn't come to any decision.”
Lucy nodded. “From what Ellie told me they were mostly interested in maintaining their heritage and establishing a cultural identity.”
“Whoa,” said O'Hara, holding up his hands in protest. “If I hear those words one more time—I mean, what do they want? We've got bears and turtles and babbling brooks and fucking birdsongs, pardon my French. But that wasn't enough, not for Mr. Nolan. It wasn't enough that this casino can generate enough money for the entire tribe to go live in Tahiti if they want, for God's sake, but he's nitpicking every little thing. Talk about bad timing. Just when we need to grease the wheels he comes in throwing sand around. That guy made a big mistake when he tangled with me.”
O'Hara suddenly realized he'd said too much. “Not that I had anything to do with his death.”
“Of course not,” said Lucy, backing away from him. “That never crossed my mind.”
O'Hara's eyes were fixed on something in the corner. Lucy followed his gaze and recognized a maul—an oversize mallet with a steel head used to force a wedge through a log to split it into firewood.
“Of course, I'm not shedding any tears for him,” said O'Hara, picking up the maul and checking its heft. “I guess you could call it a lucky break.”
Lucy had split plenty of wood in the days when they'd heated their house with a woodstove, and she knew to the ounce exactly how heavy a maul was. She had once dropped one on her foot, which had turned black-and-blue for weeks. She didn't even want to think about the damage one could cause if it were used as a weapon. She looked toward the door, estimating the distance. If she made a run for it, would she make it? Not unless O'Hara was distracted, she decided.
“I've always believed you make your own luck,” said Lucy, nervously backing up against the turkey pen and reaching in her coat pocket. Behind her, she could hear TomTom making throaty noises. “Things seem to be going pretty well for you. You wouldn't want to do anything foolish.”
“One thing I know,” he said, stepping toward her. “You don't get ahead by being indecisive—you can't be afraid to take risks.”
He started to lift the maul and Lucy knew he planned to kill her, just as he'd killed Curt Nolan. She edged away from him and reached deeper in her pocket, finally finding what she was looking for: the red beret she had stuffed there earlier. She pulled it out, waving it and tossing it straight at O'Hara.
He instinctively ducked and grabbed for it, giving Lucy an opportunity to unlatch the gate of TomTom's pen.
Enraged by the sight of the red beret in O‘Hara's hand, the huge bird went straight for his supposed rival. Caught off balance by the unexpected attack, O'Hara went flying and landed on his seat in a pile of straw.
TomTom cocked his head, blinked his eyes and decided he'd been so successful at cutting this guy down to size that he might as well finish him off. He puffed out his chest, spread his tail, and renewed his attack.
Lucy didn't wait to watch. She started to run for the door but stopped in her tracks when it flew open and Kudo ran in, followed by Barney Culpepper.
“Hold it right there!” bellowed Barney, reaching for his gun.
O'Hara froze, holding the maul at shoulder height and keeping a wary eye on the turkey. TomTom, however, was no longer interested in attacking him. He was checking out a new opponent: Kudo, who had faced off opposite him, growling.
“You're under arrest,” Barney told O'Hara. “Put the maul down and put your hands behind your back.”
“What's the charge?” demanded O'Hara, cocky as ever.
“Mistreating an animal will do for starters,' ” said Barney, snapping on the cuffs.
Her knees shaking, Lucy stroked Kudo's thick ruff. He wagged his tail, then jumped at TomTom, sending the turkey scurrying for the safety of his pen. Lucy fastened the catch with trembling hands. Then she collapsed on her knees, burying her nose in the dog's fur and hugging him.
He tolerated this embarrassing display for a few seconds, then pulled away, cocking his head and pricking up his ears.
“You're right,” said Lucy. “It's time to get out of here.”
CHAPTER 22
L
ucy had just put Kudo in the car when she heard sirens. So did the Browns, who began pouring out of the house and streaming down the hill to the barnyard.
About time,
thought Lucy, slamming down the hatch.
Where were you when I needed you?
Andy led the group, marching up to Barney and demanding, “What's going on?”
Marian Brown stood a few steps behind him, wiping her hands on her apron and keeping an eye on the kids.
“I'm making an arrest,” said Barney, lifting off his cap and running his hand through his brush cut before replacing it.
Andy peered in the back of the cruiser, then raised his eyebrows in shock when he recognized Jack O'Hara.
“There must be some mistake!” he declared. “That's Jack!”
“Excuse me,” said Marian, stepping beside her husband, “but what possible reason could you have for arresting Mr. O'Hara?”
“Well, somehow I think it's for more than attempting to assault a turkey,” said Barney as a couple of state police cars spun into the driveway with their lights flashing.
Barney went to confer with the new arrivals, leaving Lucy with the Browns.
“Do you know what's going on?” asked Andy.
“I'm not sure,” said Lucy, “but I think your friend killed Curt Nolan.”
Marian and Andy exchanged glances. Then Marian bustled off, shooing the kids back into the house. Andy hitched up his overalls and studied Lucy.
“Are you the one who came up with this bright idea?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the straps of his overalls and looking down at her.
“It wasn't me,” said Lucy, watching as Barney returned to the cruiser and drove off with O'Hara, followed by one of the state police cars.
“O'Hara asked me out here to show me the plans—at least that's what he said, but things got a little out of hand.” She shuddered and looked at Andy. “What were you all doing? I must have been in the barn with him for half an hour. Didn't you notice you had company?”
Andy's face got a little red and he gave his overalls another hitch. “The boys and me were watching TV, one of them talk shows. It was about moms who steal their daughters' boyfriends.” He grinned. “It got pretty wild there—pulling hair, fighting. They had to pull a couple of 'em apart.” He shook his head. “They shouldn't allow stuff like that on TV.”
Maybe you shouldn't watch it,
thought Lucy as Lieutenant Horowitz approached them.
“I think we've got everything under control here,” he told Andy. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
“No problem,” said Andy. “Do you mind telling—”
“I'm afraid I can't say anything right now,” Horowitz told him. “Now if you don't mind, I have a few questions for Mrs. Stone.”
Andy stood his ground for a moment, then realized he was being dismissed. He shrugged and went back to the house, leaving them alone.
Lucy took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, which was orangey from the setting sun.
“I thought we had an understanding,” said Horowitz, scolding her. “I thought you were going to stay out of this.”
“I was. I did,” answered Lucy quickly. “Honest.”
Horowitz spoke slowly. “O'Hara's a dangerous man.”
“You don't have to tell me,” said Lucy indignantly. “He was going to bash my brains out with a maul.”
“I don't doubt it for a minute,” said Horowitz, fixing his pale gray eyes on hers. “Once we started talking to people at Mulligan Construction, he became our top suspect. Nolan wasn't the first, you know. O'Hara was involved in the disappearance of a secretary, but there wasn't enough evidence to charge him. We got a lot of information from a former employee who was planning to move here.”
“St. John Barth?” asked Lucy.
Horowitz looked at her curiously. “You know him?”
“My husband is restoring a house for the Barths, but they changed their minds. They want to sell it.”
“Barth didn't want to be anywhere near O‘Hara,” said Horowitz by way of explanation. “Barth knew too much about O'Hara.”
Lucy screwed up her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd had Barth at her dinner table the day of the murder and he'd had the answer. If only she'd asked him.
“Is something the matter?” Horowitz sounded concerned.
Lucy shook her head. “I never suspected him, not for a minute.” She shivered, thinking what a close call she'd had. “Is that why Barney came? He knew O'Hara was here?”
“Not exactly. Your boss called. I guess your conversation with O‘Hara was recorded somehow on the message system. When he found out you were meeting O'Hara he was worried about your safety. It seems O'Hara had threatened him earlier today.”
Lucy shook her head. “I can't believe I was so stupid. O'Hara wanted me to take another look at the casino plans. He said I should keep an open mind.”
“You never suspected he had killed Nolan?”
“No. I had my suspicions,” she paused, “about somebody else.”
“Ah.” Horowitz put his long fingers together. “So I guess I was right and you were wrong.”
Lucy grimaced. “I guess.”
“I hope you'll keep that in mind in the future,” he said. “Some things are best left to the professionals. Now go back home to your family and count your blessings, Mrs. Stone. You were very lucky today, you know.”
“I know,” said Lucy.
She managed a little smile and he gave her a nod. Then he started across the yard to his car.
Lucy watched him go for a moment, then called out, “Lieutenant! Just thought I'd let you know there's a button missing from O'Hara's sweater—not that it means anything, of course, but it's worth checking out.”
“Thank you,” he said, giving her a salute.
Lucy took a last look at the sky, now a deep purplish blue, and opened the car door. Kudo was waiting for her.
“Extra rations for you tonight,” she told him. “A whole can of turkey and giblets.”
She had no sooner spoken than she could have sworn she heard a distant protesting gobble from TomTom in the barn.
“Did you hear anything?” she asked Kudo as she started the car.
There was no answer from the cargo area, but she did hear him lick his chops.
CHAPTER 23
I
t was a beautiful spring morning. Lucy had to admit that; who could argue with a cloudless blue sky, flowering apple trees and gorgeous, lush lilac bushes covered with blossoms that bobbed in the warm breeze? It was the sort of day that lifted your spirits, put a smile on your face and a bounce in your step.
Nevertheless, her heart was heavy as she drove the familiar route to Andy Brown's farm. Today the ground-breaking ceremony for the new casino was to take place and she was covering it for the newspaper. Even though she knew the casino would bring jobs and money to Tinker's Cove, she hated to see the quiet countryside she loved become the site of a gleaming monument to greed and avarice. They called it entertainment but she knew better; gambling was simply another way to separate a fool from his money. Money that would be better spent on shoes for the children and groceries and mortgage payments.
Looking back over the last few months, Lucy could hardly believe how smoothly the casino project had progressed. One by one the expected obstacles had toppled. The Bureau of Indian Affairs had recently revised its policy on tribal recognition and had granted the Metinnicut people tribal status in record time. The state legislature, where both Democrats and Republicans were eager for increased tax revenue, had voted to approve the casino with little discussion. Faced with what appeared to be an unstoppable juggernaut, the members of the Tinker's Cove Planning Board had been unwilling to risk embroiling the town in expensive court appeals and promptly issued the necessary approval. In a matter of months the casino project had gone from a set of paper plans to reality.
She supposed the project's success would have assured Jack O‘Hara the job he wanted so much that he was willing to kill for it. Perhaps he was taking some satisfaction from the fact that the casino would be built, from whatever section of the hereafter he was presently occupying. O'Hara hadn't been willing to face a trial and the likelihood of spending the rest of his life in jail. Instead, he had managed a spectacular escape and had been shot by pursuing police officers. “Suicide by cop,” they called it, but Lucy suspected O'Hara was betting he could get away.
As Horowitz had told her, it was St. John Barth who fingered O'Hara in the first place. He had been the last person to see the missing secretary alive, getting in O'Hara's car, but although he'd told the police, they had never been able to make a case against O'Hara. Barth had left the company, figuring it would be prudent to get as far away from O'Hara as he could. As he had explained to Bill, when O'Hara had turned up in Tinker's Cove, he didn't think he could risk an encounter. So he and Clarice had decided to sell the house. Now, with O'Hara out of the picture, the Barths had moved in and St. John was working on a true-crime book about his former nemesis.
The thought made Lucy smile as she parked the car and climbed out, checking to be sure she had her camera and notebook. As she made her way through the crowded parking lot to the pumpkin field where the casino was to be built, she saw the crowd was divided into several groups.
Holding center stage was Sandy Dunlap, dressed in a red power suit and sporting a chic new hairdo, backed by Mulligan Construction executives and town officials sympathetic to the project. Rumor was she was considering a run for the state legislature, and Lucy had no doubt she'd win. As Ted had pointed out so often, Sandy was a terrific campaigner, but she didn't have a clue what to do once she got in office.
The Brown family was also there in force, all dressed in their Sunday best. Lucy wondered if they would stay on in the farm house, next to the casino, or if they'd take the money and settle somewhere else, someplace where there wasn't a tacky casino spoiling the landscape.
Also standing with Sandy and beaming approval were a group from the Business and Professional Women's Association of Tinker's Cove led by Franny Small. This newly formed group was having a definite impact on town politics, well out of proportion to its small size.
Last, but not least among the group gathered around the town officials, were Bear Sykes and the Metinnicut people, dressed in traditional Native American clothing decorated with fringe, beads, and feathers.
Another group was also waiting for the ceremony to begin, but these people had grim expressions on their faces and had arranged themselves in front of a Mulligan Construction bulldozer. Jonathan Franke was there, holding a placard that read,
Bet
on the environment,
and so was Fred Rumford, holding a traditional deerskin drum. Ellie was absent, Lucy noticed, speculating that she would have found herself in an awkward position, having to choose between her loyalty to the tribe and her relationship with Jonathan.
There was a squeal from the microphone as Sandy began speaking and thanked everyone for coming.
“This project has not been without controversy,” she continued, getting a few chuckles from the crowd, “but change is always controversial. Today we are embarking on a new adventure, which we hope will bring unprecedented prosperity to our community—to our whole community.”
Everyone, except the protesters, applauded. They remained stubbornly in place, in front of the bulldozer.
Sandy raised her hand and the machine roared into life, she lowered her hand and it began rumbling forward, making the first cut in the field. The protesters stood their ground until the last minute. Then they scattered for safety to the sidelines, where they stood in a ragged row. Fred Rumford began beating his drum slowly, as if for a dirge.
Lucy had snapped some pictures and was moving among the crowd, collecting quotes, when it suddenly became much quieter. The slow drumbeats continued but the bulldozer had stopped and was idling in the middle of the field. The operator had jumped down and could be seen on his knees, pawing at the dirt.
Rumford passed his drum over to Franke, who continued the slow beat, and ran out to join the bulldozer operator. He, too, knelt and began gently brushing away at the soil. When he stood up his solemn expression had been replaced with a huge smile.
“We have archaeological remains,” he exclaimed, and the protesters erupted into joyful cheers.
“What does that mean?” asked Sandy, looking puzzled.
“That means everything stops. Right now. We have to call the state archaeologist, who will determine if the site is historically valuable and should be preserved.”
A little worried furrow appeared between Sandy's brows.
“You can't do that!” exclaimed Andy Brown. “This is my land and I say we're going ahead.” He tapped the bulldozer operator on his shoulder. “You, get back up on the machine. Let's go.”
The fellow shook his head. “Sorry. No can do.” He tilted his head toward Rumford. “He's right. It's a state law. We have to wait for the archaeologist.”
“How long will that take?” demanded Andy impatiently.
The fellow shrugged. “A couple of weeks maybe.”
“And then we can go ahead with the casino, right?”
“Wrong.” It was Rumford, looking as if he'd stumbled on the Holy Grail. “These are human remains, very old remains. And Metinnicut pot shards. If I'm right, and I'm sure I am, this is a gravesite dating from 1400 or earlier.”
“So what? There's stuff like that all over the farm. Arrowheads, bits of this and that—I don't know what all.”
“There are?” Rumford could hardly contain his delight. “All over, you say?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“This is a priceless archaeological resource!” Rumford was bouncing on his toes. “It can't be touched! It's one of a kind! It will have to be excavated and researched! Do you know how rare this is? It's fantastic! It's what I've been waiting for my entire life.”
“What about the casino?” insisted Brown.
“There's no question about that. You'll have to find another site for the casino.”
Brown glared at him angrily, then stomped off to confer with the Mulligan executives.
Bear Sykes approached Rumford. “You say these are the remains of my ancestors?”
“I'd bet my life on it,” said Rumford. “Heck, I'm going to stake my career on it. This land holds a wealth of information about the Metinnicut people.”
Sykes nodded. “It is good,” he said and began clapping his hands and singing a traditional chant. He was soon joined by other members of the tribe, and Franke picked up the beat on his drum. Someone produced a tightly knotted bundle of sage leaves and lighted it; fragrant smoke rose heavenward.
Lucy took a deep breath and savored the sharp scent of the burning herbs. She surveyed the field filled with friends and neighors and looked beyond to the budding trees that rimmed the field. She looked up at the blue sky, where a single dark cloud had formed directly overhead blocking the sun. Then she thought of Curt Nolan.
She remembered the day he died, how his sightless eyes had looked up at the sky. Today, if he was up there, perched on that cloud and looking down on the human comedy in Andy Brown's pumpkin field, he must surely be smiling. As she watched, a gleam of bright light broke through the cloud. It split apart and the sun shone brightly once again.

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