A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2) (6 page)

Dana’s eyes darted from Blair and back to me. Then her eyebrows furrowed. “Uh…well, I’ve already talked to the police.”

“Do you want us to help you or not?” I said, my patience running thin.

“Uh…yes, of course. But first,” she said, holding up a stubby finger. “I need to do something. Then we can talk tomorrow.” She started to back toward the kitchen door.

“What?” Rudy exclaimed in disbelief. She stood up and came around the table again. “What could be more important than finding out who’s trying to kill you?”

Dana turned to Rudy with her best indignant pose. “Not all of us have hired help to do everything we need, Rudy,” she said with all the venom she could muster. “Some of us have to get our hands dirty.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rudy said.

Rudy had a strong right arm, as any batter on the fast pitch team she played against could tell you. And right now, I was afraid she was going to use it. I think Dana did too, because she backed right up to the door.

“What I mean is that, uh…I need to finish up something, a project, and then I have to call my campaign committee together and plan a press conference to drop out of the race.” Her hand reached out for the door behind her. “Then tomorrow, we’ll get together, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She turned and was about to push her way through the swinging door.

I stopped her.

“Dana!” I snapped.

She turned back to me.

“You
do
realize that every minute that goes by, someone out there is probably still planning to kill you?”

Her fingers clenched her purse straps. “Yes, of course. I’ll be done tonight and will call you tomorrow. I promise.”

And as quickly as she’d appeared, the Wicked Witch was gone.

“I don’t trust her,” Blair said.

“Yeah, that was pretty weird,” Rudy agreed. “One minute she’s demanding that we help her solve the crime, and the next minute she has more important things to do.”

“You didn’t really want to run for mayor did you, Julia?” Doe said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I thought you came up with that compromise a little too quickly,” Blair said with a hint of reproach.

“Let’s face it,” Rudy chimed in. “We made you do it, didn’t we? We wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

They all cast forlorn eyes my way, as if their favorite aunt had just died.

“Okay,” I said in frustration. “No, I didn’t really want to run for mayor. I told you that from the beginning. But I didn’t want Dana to be mayor, either. So now both problems have been solved.”

“Except Trudy Bascom had to die in the process,” Doe pointed out.

“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “That’s the tragedy.”

“And now someone has to convince Tony Morales that he wanted to run for mayor all along,” Blair said skeptically.

“I’ll do that,” I said. “I’ve gotten to know him pretty well since he joined the library board. He has aspirations – he just needs encouragement. His physical issues make him self-conscious, that’s all.”

For the second time that morning, the kitchen door flew open and a squat, little woman marched in.

“Julia, did you hear about the murder at the library?”

It was Goldie Singleton, my neighbor on the north side of the Inn. She and her husband Ben lived in a large, ramshackle home they’d built in the late Seventies. I sometimes thought they were both still living in that era. Goldie was usually draped in long skirts or baggy pants and sloppy t-shirts. She often wore a fanny pack strapped to her waist and Birkenstock sandals. Today, she was encased in cargo pants and a huge jacket made out of what looked like upholstery fabric.

“Yes, Goldie, the police were just here,” I said, realizing that she’d come in through the back door off the breakfast room. We kept it unlocked during the day.

Her gray eyes popped open in surprise. “Really? Why were the police here? Did they want your help again? You and the other heroes?” She sent an appreciative gaze around the room at the rest of the girls.

“Uh…no,” I replied, hoping to downplay the hero bit. I glanced around at Rudy, not wanting to reveal what we knew to Goldie, but Rudy just shrugged as if it didn’t really matter. “Actually, I uh…”

“Oh, that’s right,” Goldie interrupted me with a finger pointed at my chest. “You’re dating that good–looking detective.”

I sighed. Apparently I had no secrets in this world.

She moved to the table and lifted a cookie off the plate and proceeded to eat it like a squirrel, taking little bites around the edges at lightning speed. Even at the age of seventy-three, Goldie had enough energy to fuel a power plant.

“Um…that’s right,” I said, realizing she’d given me an out with the bit about dating. “David stopped by to let me know about the murder since I’m on the library board. But how did you find out about it?”

“Ben,” she said, stopping to wipe cookie crumbs off her lips. “His short wave radio buddies let me know. They’re tapped into the police radios. But I just saw that Dana Finkle leave. What the heck was she doing here?”

“That’s what I was about to say. Actually, Dana was the real target. The woman that was killed, Trudy Bascom, was her campaign assistant and was killed by mistake.”

Her eyes grew round again as she held the half-eaten cookie in her hand. “Wow, that’s a bad piece of luck.”

“Yes, it’s tragic,” I said.

To the absolute delight of the Dachshunds, Goldie began pointing at me with the cookie and dropping crumbs all over the floor.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with the guy who’s been breaking into homes around here. You know, the guy I shot at a few weeks ago?” Goldie said. She accentuated her comment by gesturing enthusiastically with the cookie. A chocolate chip dropped to the floor and quickly disappeared.

I considered the rash of thefts we’d had in the surrounding neighborhoods. The thief had stolen mostly small electronics like iPads and cell phones. But when the unfortunate criminal selected the Singleton’s home to visit, Goldie had run him off with her shotgun. The police were not amused, but then, Ben was retired military and held firm to his Second Amendment rights. The couple owned an arsenal of guns, one of which was an old shotgun handed down from Goldie’s father.

“Whatever happened with that?” Rudy asked her.

“Oh, he got away,” she said, turning to Rudy with disappointment. “He ran into those trees over by the parking lot.”

“But what did the police say about you shooting off your rifle?” Rudy asked this cautiously, knowing she was treading on uneven ground.

Goldie made a grimace. “First of all, it’s a Browning automatic 12-gauge shotgun that my daddy bought in 1954. And I have a right to protect my property,” she said obstinately. “So they didn’t have much
to
say.” She turned to me. “I wish I’d got that guy though,” she said, her gray eyes fixed in an intense glare. “Maybe that woman would be alive.”

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. This wasn’t some random break-in. It was very well planned.”

“What do you mean, planned?” she said.

“Julia,” Doe blurted, getting up and placing a hand on my shoulder. “We really need to get busy planning your campaign.”

I looked up at her in confusion. “What? No, I…”

“Doe is right,” Rudy jumped in. “We’re pretty busy, Goldie. You understand.”

I saw Blair’s expression transition from confusion to one of recognition, which finally registered with me. I turned to Goldie. “Yes, you’ll have to excuse us, Goldie.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, grabbing two more cookies off the plate. “Let me know if you need help putting up campaign signs. Ben walks all over this neighborhood anyway. See you girls later,” she said, waving the cookies in the air. Mickey and Minnie followed her trail of cookie crumbs until she disappeared through the swinging door.

Doe gave a great sigh and dropped back into her chair, as the dogs finished cleaning up the floor. “Sorry, but I thought if I didn’t come up with something, she’d be here all day,” Doe said.

“And all the cookies would be gone,” Rudy lamented, reaching out for one of the last cookies on the plate.

“I know. She’s a bit of a busybody,” I said.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Doe said.

“By the way, do you have some crackers?” Blair asked. “Or nuts?”’

Blair was a diabetic, and I’d forgotten that she needed something to eat with her wine.

“Just a sec.” I jumped up and grabbed a box of crackers from the cupboard and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching in for one.

“So how are we going to solve Trudy’s murder?” Doe asked, sipping her tea. “That is, without getting in the way of your new boyfriend?”

“Or, Angela,” Rudy said.

“Let’s not worry about Angela. I say we go back to basics,” I said. “Whoever killed Trudy has to be someone who not only hates Dana, but doesn’t care if they implicate me.”

“Right,” Rudy said. “And also understands your relationship with Dana. Whoever sent that message had to be pretty sure that Dana would jump at the chance to meet you at the library, even in the middle of a storm.”

Doe sat back down at the table and said, “But actually, what they didn’t count on was the fact that Dana would be out collecting money for her campaign. If they had, they’d know even a meeting with Julia wouldn’t drag her away from that.”

“So, it had to be someone that isn’t close enough to Dana to know that she wasn’t home last night,” I said.

“Right,” Doe replied. “Probably not a neighbor because a neighbor might have seen her leave. Or her husband. He would have known where she was.”

Rudy spoke up. “We should have asked Dana who knew she’d be out campaigning last night besides Trudy.”

I turned to the drawer in the center island and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pencil and came back to the table and sat down.

“Okay, let’s make a plan. I’ll call Dana and ask her about that. What else have we got?”

“We need to find out why someone would actually want her dead,” Doe said. “I mean, everybody hates her, but who would actually go to such lengths to kill her?”

“Especially hitting her in the head with something,” Blair said with a distasteful twist to her full mouth. “That sounds personal.”

“Does anyone know anything about her past?” Doe asked.

“Only that she used to live down in Vancouver,” Rudy said.

“And that she was married before,” I added, writing it down. “I heard her mention that at a meeting once.”

“She’s actually been married twice?” Blair said, almost spitting out a mouthful of wine.   “I can understand one man being that lonely, but not two.”

Blair was on her fourth husband, so if anyone knew about multiple marriages, it was her. Her ex-husbands all still adored her however, and would come to her aid at the drop of a hat. I always suspected it was because her libido was as strong as any man’s, and they were all secretly hoping for a reconciliation, if only for one night.

“Am I the only one who is really suspicious about why she ran out of here so quickly?” Doe said, letting her eyes connect with each one of us.

“What are you thinking?” Rudy asked.

“Just that Dana is one of the most aggressive people I’ve ever met. She’s always on the offensive, not the defensive. And yet, as soon as you mentioned that we’d need to know everything about her life, she became really elusive.”

“I’d say more like nervous,” Rudy nodded. “I’ve never seen her like that. She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

“She’s obviously hiding something,” Doe said.

“Then I say we figure out what that something is,” Blair said.

“But how?” I asked.

“We could break into her house,” Blair offered, her cool blue eyes dancing with enthusiasm.

We all frowned at her.

“No,” I responded. “Somehow getting arrested for breaking and entering doesn’t sound like such a good idea. But…” I looked over at Doe. “Dana lives over on North Marchand Drive. What day is her trash picked up?”

Doe shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” She pulled out her cell phone.

While Doe checked in with her office, I looked at Rudy. “Any chance you can do some digging into her life down in Vancouver?”

“Sure, I’ll just make some phone calls. I know a couple of people who used to work at
The Columbian
newspaper down there. If she was as much of a pain in the ass back then as she is now, they’ll remember her.”

Doe hung up and put her phone on the table. “Bingo,” she said. “Her trash is picked up tomorrow morning. So what are you thinking, Julia?”

I looked around the table considering my response. “Look, I admit that I can’t stand Dana. As a result, I’ve studied her over the years more than I care to admit. She is the most calculating…uh…individual I know,” I said, tempering my remark. “She doesn’t do anything that doesn’t have a purpose, and that purpose is
always
in her best interests.”

“So? We all know that,” Blair said.

“Well, she wouldn’t stall for time unless she had a reason. I think she needs to get rid of something.”

I could see the light bulbs go off over everyone’s head.

“So the project she mentioned is that she’s going home to get rid of some incriminating evidence?” Doe said.

“It may not have anything to do with her attempted murder. But it’s definitely something she doesn’t want other people to know about. Remember that she referred to a deadline – tomorrow,” I said.

“Trash pickup,” Doe said with a nod.

“Can you get your guys to pick up her trash and separate it out for us?” I asked Doe.

Doe frowned. “Boy, I hate to bring any of them into this. Isn’t there another way?”

“Wait!” Rudy said. “Isn’t it true that the moment someone puts their trash out at the curb, it becomes public property, so-to-speak?”

“Yes,” Doe replied.

“Then, I say
we
pick it up.”

“Oh, good,” Blair exclaimed with a childish clap of her hands. “A midnight trash run.”

Doe and Rudy exchanged skeptical looks.

“We’ll need rubber gloves,” Doe said with a look of distaste. “After all, this is Dana Finkle’s trash we’re talking about.”