Authors: Leslie Meier
Valentine Murder (18 page)
He opened the door on the passenger side and waited as Lucy escorted the older woman down the icy pathway and helped her into the car. Lucy watched as they drove away slowly, and then went to get the Subaru.
Alone in the car, she flipped up the visor and leaned forward so she could see the sky. It was the blank, milky white that often signaled a snowstorm. She started the engine and switched on the radio, searching for a weather report.
All she got, though, was varying tones of static as she drove past the big, substantial clapboard houses that lined Main Street. On one big, snow-covered lawn a group of children, togged out in bright red and blue and green snowsuits, were making a snowman. The scene reminded her of a Christmas card.
If only life was like the paintings, she thought. She loved living in New Englandâthe small towns, the rugged individualists, even the annual town meetings. Self-reliance. Hard work. Thrift. Common sense. Common crackers. She loved it when the kids came in with rosy cheeks, looking like the children in Tasha Tudor books. What had gone wrong, she wondered, pulling up and parking behind Mrs. Asquith's car and watching as Bill helped Lucretia into the house.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she never once looked in the rearview mirror, never noticed that she had been followed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Giant was furious when he realized Jack had stolen his treasure.
O
n Monday morning the radio announced Gerald's arrest for the theft of Josiah's Tankard:
n Monday morning the radio announced Gerald's arrest for the theft of Josiah's Tankard:
“Former Winchester College President Gerald Asquith was arrested by state police who allege he stole an antique pewter tankard from the Tinker's Cove Library, placing a copy in its place.
“State police say the theft went unnoticed for years, and was only discovered when the copy was found with the body of Hayden Northcross, who committed suicide last week. A subsequent investigation revealed that Asquith sold the tankard at Sotheby's auction house in New York City, and received more than forty thousand dollars for it.”
Stunned at the amount, Lucy dropped the knife she was using to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the kids' lunches, spattering jelly on the floor. She bent down to wipe it up with a paper towel, eagerly listening for more details about the arrest. All she learned, however, was that Gerald would be arraigned that morning.
As Lucy finished packing the lunches she decided she would spend the morning finishing up the gambling story. Ted would undoubtedly want to run it as background for the story about Asquith.
“Bill?” she called up the stairs. “Do me a favor and drop Zoe off at Kiddie Kollege this morning?” She checked the clock, and sent a second message echoing up the stairs: “You've got five minutes 'til the school bus.”
“We're always way too early,” said Toby, clattering down the stairs and stuffing his lunch into his backpack.
“You always rush us out there,” complained Elizabeth, “and then we have to wait in the cold.”
“It wouldn't be quite so cold if you wore gloves and a hat and zipped your jacket.” Lucy could hear the bus, down at the bottom of the hill. “If you don't get out there this minute, you're going to miss it and I really don't want to drive you this morning. Sara! Get down here! It's the bus.”
“You don't have to yell, Mom. I'm right here.”
Lucy gave her middle daughter a kiss on the cheek, and a shove toward the door. Then with a sigh of exasperation she watched the three go down the driveway: Toby strode along on his long legs, Sara ran, and Elizabeth did her very best imitation of Tyra Banks on a fashion runway.
Turning back to the sink, Lucy loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. Then she zipped Zoe into her snowsuit, handed Bill his lunchbox, and gave them each a good-bye kiss. Finally alone in the house, she went straight to the computer.
It was eleven when she was finished; she just had time to drop the story off before she had to pick up Zoe.
“Lucy! I knew you wouldn't let me down,” exclaimed Ted, when she pushed open the door to
The Pennysaver
office.
The Pennysaver
office.
“It's all here,” she said, handing him a computer disc. “The greed, the compulsion, the desperation, and the shame.”
“Sounds like a B-movie,” said Ted.
“Isn't that what this is?” asked Lucy. “What's happening to nice, quiet Tinker's Cove?”
“I don't know, but I'm not complaining,” said Ted. “This sure beats writing about the Cub Scouts' Pinewood Derby.”
“I guess,” chuckled Lucy, who well remembered long, noisy Sunday afternoons in the church basement when Toby and the other boys in his den raced the little wooden cars they had carved out of blocks of wood. “Did you go to the arraignment this morning?”
“Yeah. It was pretty awful. Gerald looked terrible. He hasn't got a lawyer, yet. The judge entered a not guilty plea for him. No bail, of course.”
“They think he'd skip town?”
“Worse. I think they're worried he might kill himself.”
Lucy studied the counter between herself and Ted. “Was his wife there?”
“No.”
“Poor Gerald.”
“Poor Gerald! I'm surprised at you, Lucy. The man stole the town's most valuable artifactâactually pretended he was selling it on behalf of the libraryâand you feel sorry for him?”
“I do. He couldn't help himself any more than an alcoholic or a drug addict can. Read my story and you'll understand.”
“That doesn't make what he did right,” said Ted. “And besides, if he had been on drugs or booze he would've been caught a lot sooner.”
“True enough,” said Lucy, turning to go. At the door she paused. “Did you talk to Horowitz?”
“He gave the usual press conference.”
“I just wondered, did he say anything about Bitsy or Hayden?”
Ted smiled and shook his head. “Not a word, kiddo. Just the contrary. He made a big point of saying that this did not change the status of the Howell and Northcross cases, which are both closed.”
Lucy shook her head in disbelief. “I don't get it. We have this little town library and all this stuff is going on: murder, suicide, theft, for Pete's sake, and he's saying there's no connection. That just doesn't make sense.” She pushed open the door and marched out, leaving the little bell attached to the top of the door tinkling in her wake.
Once she was out on the sidewalk, Lucy felt as if she needed to burn off some steam. Instead of driving, she decided to walk over to Kiddie Kollege. It was only a few blocks and the fresh air would do her good.
The sun wasn't shining and the sky was still full of clouds, but the temperature was unusually mild. The thermometer outside Slack's Hardware read thirty degrees, a heat wave.
The next shop was the Carriage Trade, a shop that sold expensive, tasteful clothing for women. The four dress forms in the window were bare, except for sandwich boards with the letters S-A-L-E. Lucy smiled, thinking that Sue would no doubt be checking out the bargains if she hadn't already done so.
Maybe she should stop in, too. After all, she loved the sweater Bill had bought here and given her for Christmas. The thought gave her pause; she had last worn the sweater at her first meeting of the library board when she had been so worried about making a good impression.
She smiled grimly at the thought. If only she'd known then what she knew now. The board members weren't quite the upstanding citizens she had once thought. Ed Bumpus was gruff and rude, Corney was plagiarizing recipes for her column, Gerald was a gambler. Who else had a secret, she wondered, a secret that was important enough to kill for?
There was still one board member, she realized, who she hardly knew. It was about time, she decided, picking up her pace, that she got better acquainted with Chuck Canaday.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bambi and all the other animals fled in terror from the flames that were consuming the forest.
A
s much as Lucy had enjoyed her brisk walk over to Kiddie Kollege, the walk back to retrieve the car convinced her it hadn't been such a good idea. Zoe dragged her feet and dawdled, stopping every few feet to poke a stick into the snow piled alongside the sidewalk.
s much as Lucy had enjoyed her brisk walk over to Kiddie Kollege, the walk back to retrieve the car convinced her it hadn't been such a good idea. Zoe dragged her feet and dawdled, stopping every few feet to poke a stick into the snow piled alongside the sidewalk.
The balmy temperature didn't seem quite so balmy, either, thanks to a smart breeze. The sign in front of the bank may have read thirty degrees but the wind chill made it feel more like twenty. When Zoe plopped down in the slushy snow to make a snow angel, Lucy lost her temper.
“Zoe! You're going to get soaking wet!” she scolded, lifting the little girl to her feet and carrying her the remaining few feet of sidewalk to the car. “It's lunchtime. We have to get home.”
Lucy strapped her into her booster seat and started the engine, pushing the heater up as high as it would go. It was times like these, she thought, when she wished she lived a bit closer to town.
She drove the familiar route down Main Street on automatic pilot, thinking of what she was going to make for supper, and not paying much attention to the car. She had reached Route One and was speeding along when she first noticed wisps of smoke or steam slipping out from the side of the hood.
Not quite believing what she was seeing, she rubbed her eyes and checked the gauges. The engine temperature was normal, the oil light wasn't on. She slowed down a little bit but that only seemed to make things worse; the smoke was really pouring out now and a car coming the other way flashed its lights and honked at her.
Seeing the turnoff for Red Top Road ahead, she pulled over to the side and stopped the car. She got out to investigate and was horrified to see little orange tongues of flames licking up through the crack between the hood and the fender.
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, yanking open the back door. With shaking hands she struggled to unfasten Zoe's seat belt, then grabbed the little girl by the upper arms and dragged her out of the car.
“Ow! That hurt!”
“I'm sorry, baby,” she crooned, clutching the little one to her breast and backing away from the car. It was then she spotted her purse on the passenger seat.
She dropped Zoe to her feet, ordering her to stay put, and cautiously approached the car. She could feel the heat on her face; the flames were a good six inches long now and black smoke was pouring from the engine. She held her breath and reached into the car, snatching her purse and dashing back to Zoe.
Hearing an ominous whoosh, she grabbed her mittened hand and dragged her away from the car. There was a big pop; Lucy turned and saw the interior burst into a ball of flame.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned, collapsing to her knees and clutching Zoe to her.
By now the car was totally involved in flame and the air was filling with thick, black smoke. The acrid stink of burning oil and plastic irritated her nose and throat and made her eyes sting. Lucy coughed and backed even further away, reaching into her purse for her cell phone. When she could breathe a little better she punched in 9-1-1.
“My car's on fire,” she told the dispatcher. “I'm at Route One and Red Top Road.”
“Is anyone in the car?
“No. We're out, we're safe,” said Lucy, caressing Zoe's cheek and pressing the little girl tight against her hip. She sobbed. “Please hurry.”
“They're on the way,” said the dispatcher. “Just hold tight and they'll be there in a minute or two.”
“Thank you.” Tears were rolling down Lucy's face and she was shaking with sobs, unable to take her eyes off the burning car. She was terrified to think what might have happened if she hadn't stopped the car in time. It had all happened so fast; only a few minutes had passed from the moment she first noticed the smoke.
In the distance she could already hear the sirens growing steadily louder as the firetrucks approached. When the engine arrived some of the men immediately began spraying foam on the car and the road; two others approached her.
“Are you all right?” asked the first, a tall man whose face was obscured by the cloth he wore beneath his helmet.
“We're fine,” said Lucy, her voice wavering and her face crumpling. “I'm sorry. I just can't seem to stop crying.”
“It's shock,” said the shorter firefighter, who Lucy was surprised to see was a woman. “It's normal. I'll get you some blankets.”
Lucy realized she was shivering, and so was Zoe, and was grateful for the warmth of the orange blankets the firefighters draped over their shoulders. It was only a few minutes later when Barney arrived and bundled them in the back of his cruiser for the drive home.
“What happened, Lucy?”
“I don't know. One minute I was driving home and the next I was standing by the side of the road watching my car burn up.”
“Have you had any trouble with it lately?”
“No. I just got the oil changed last month. The mechanic said everything looked fine. It's old, but it's never let me down.” It was true, she realized. The Subaru had been like a faithful friend, carrying her and the kids to countless ballet lessons and Cub Scout meetings and swimming classes, hauling tons of groceries home from the IGA, giving her the freedom to come and go in all kinds of weather. “I'm going to miss that car,” she said.
“You got a lot of years out of it,” sighed Barney.
“Nearly 150,000 miles.”
“I guess it deserves a rest, then,” said Barney, turning into the driveway. He braked and turned his jowly Saint Bernard face to her. “I've got an accident report to fill out, if you feel up to it.”
“Sure,” said Lucy, dabbing at her eyes and sniffing. “Actually, I'll be glad of the company. Come on in.”
But as she fussed around the kitchen, heating up soup and spreading peanut butter and jelly onto bread for sandwiches for the three of them, Lucy couldn't add much information to what she'd already told Barney. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what had caused the car to suddenly burst into flames.
After they finished eating, Barney stood up and put on his jacket, then smoothed his hand over his graying crew cut and set his cap on his head. Standing in the kitchen in his regulation black boots, he tapped his clipboard against his leg.
“Listen,” he said in a low voice, making sure Zoe couldn't hear, “I don't like the sound of this. Especially with everything that's been going on. I think you should lay low, if you know what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy narrowed her eyes.
“I mean, I think that fire might not o' been an accident. I think it might have been set.”
“Oh,” said Lucy, suddenly feeling rather weak in the knees and sitting down. It was one thing to harbor a vague suspicion, as she had ever since the near miss when the kids were sledding, but it was another thing altogether to have those suspicions voiced by somebody else, especially if that somebody else happened to be a police officer.
“This is getting really scary,” she said, shivering involuntarily and raising tear-filled eyes to Barney. “When I think what could have happenedâwhat if I hadn't gotten Zoe out of the car in time?”
“I didn't mean to upset you,” said Barney, who would rather deal with a drunk and disorderly than a crying woman any day. He started to reach for the doorknob, but stopped himself and stood uneasily shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“All's well that ends well, I guess. But it wouldn't hurt to be extra careful for a few days.” He turned and yanked the door open. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
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