A Catered Fourth of July (16 page)

B
ernie and Libby turned. Elise Montague was standing behind them.

“I'll be going then.” Tim wandered off, obviously relieved to be quit of his hosting duties.

“You're the president?” Bernie asked her as she heard the sound of a lawn mower starting. She presumed it was Tim doing the mowing.

Elise grinned. “Surprised, huh?”

“Very,” Bernie admitted.

“Well, it's better than doing volunteer work at the historical society. I like to shoot. I've been doing it since I was sixteen. And they needed someone.” Elise paused for a moment, then said, “So what are you doing here?”

Bernie explained that they were interested in joining the club.

Elise's eyebrows went up. “I didn't know you two were interested in shooting.”

“We're interested in exploring that possibility,” Libby told her.

Bernie smiled. “Samuel Cotton told us we'd like it here.” She watched for Elise's reaction.

Elise's eyebrows went up even higher.

“He said we'd enjoy all the
activities
you guys engage in,” Bernie continued.

Elise flushed.

“I thought he was talking about cookouts, but maybe not,” Bernie said, managing not to leer.

“The man is an idiot,” Elise muttered.

Bernie looked sympathetic. “It must have been hard being here when Devlin was alive.”

“Why would that be?” Elise asked.

“You know . . . you and Devlin . . . and Cotton . . .” Bernie let her voice trail off.

“So you know?” Elise asked.

“I think everyone does,” Bernie said.

Elise sighed. “I suppose they do.”

“It must have been awkward,” Bernie said, being sympathetic.

“It was,” Elise admitted after a minute went by. “But that's because Samuel Cotton is a very jealous, possessive man. We were never that serious, but he made this whole relationship thing up in his head. It was scary for a while.” She lowered her voice. “I really think he might have had something to do with Devlin getting shot.”

“Did you tell the police that?” Libby asked.

“No,” Elise admitted. “I just didn't want to get involved.”

“I can understand that,” Libby said even though she didn't.

Elise took a deep breath and let it out. “But things are better now. So, are either one of you interested in shooting? Seeing how it feels? Libby, you said you were.”

“I said I was interested in exploring the possibility,” Libby clarified.

“No time like the present, I always say,” Elise trilled.

At which point, Libby remembered why she'd never liked her in high school.

“What a good idea,” Bernie gushed, having just realized that no one was at the front desk, meaning it would be the perfect time to try and acquire the club's membership list. “Yes, Libby,” she enthused. “Why don't you go along with Elise? I just have to use the restroom and I'll be with you shortly.”

Libby managed to get out a strangled, “Yes.”

“See you in a few,” Bernie said as her sister and Elise headed for the gun room.

She waited until Elise and Libby were out of sight. Then she scurried toward the entrance hall. The coast was clear and Bernie quickly walked around to the other side of the desk and began going through the two file cabinets opposite the computer. After a couple minutes she had to concede they held nothing of interest. One of the cabinets contained bills, while the other one was empty except for a box of Kleenex and a flashlight.

Hopefully, everything that she needed would be on the computer. It probably was. Actually, she was a little surprised by that since the club wasn't on the Web. Evidently there was no correlation between the two things. Bernie sighed and turned her attention to the desktop. She wasn't great with computers, but fortunately she wasn't a complete Luddite, either.

The screen saver featured a picture of a dead deer and a grinning hunter.
Lovely,
Bernie thought as she pressed the ESCAPE button. A moment later, the desktop jumped into view. That was a picture of a large musk ox.
Slightly better,
she decided as she quickly scanned the icons and clicked on the one labeled MEMBERSHIP INFORMATION.

A moment later, the membership list popped into view.
Thank God the computer wasn't password protected,
she thought as she scanned it. The list definitely had more people on it than she thought it would have. The most notable fact, however, was that everyone who had been in the reenactment at the park except for Marvin was a member. Bernie opened her e-mail account and forwarded the list to herself as an attachment. She grinned. Easy as pie. Even easier. For once, things were working out better than she'd hoped.

She closed the list and returned to the desktop, studying the icons some more. At first glance, there wasn't anything there labeled
GUN RENTALS.
She was trying to figure out where it would be hidden when she heard a shot and a shriek.
That's Libby,
Bernie thought. She clicked CLOSE and hurried out from behind the desk. By the time she was in the hallway, her sister and Elise were there, too.

“She wasn't expecting the recoil,” Elise explained as Libby rubbed her shoulder. “You might want to ice it when you get home. Otherwise, you're going to have a nasty bruise.”

Libby nodded. Bernie figured she was saving what she had to say for when they got back in the van.

“Which way did you come up?” Elise asked.

Bernie told her.

Elise shook her head. “You might want to take the main road going back to town. You'll find it's quicker.”

“So what did I take to get up here?” Bernie asked.

“The back way. Tim has a strange sense of humor.”

“I'll say,” Bernie replied as they started out the door. “Does he do this a lot?”

“Only to people he doesn't know,” Elise replied.

With that Bernie and Libby went outside. The wind had picked up and the sisters could see the leaves fluttering on the birch trees.

“Don't say anything,” Bernie told Libby as they walked to their van.

“That'll be easy since I'm not speaking to you.”

“Even though I got the membership list?” Bernie said.

“You could have let me know what you were up to.”

Bernie stopped, turned to Libby, and put her hands on her hips. “How, pray tell, was I supposed to do that?” she demanded.

“I guess you couldn't,” Libby said grudgingly. She reached up and rubbed her shoulder. “Who's on it?”

“Everyone in the reenactment except Marvin,” Bernie said.

Libby frowned. “But if everyone is on it, that means we can't use it to eliminate anyone, which means we're right back where we started.”

“Except that now we know Elise and Samuel Cotton had a really good motive for killing Devlin.”

“Nothing like expanding the pool of suspects instead of narrowing it,” Libby observed. Despite her throbbing shoulder, she closed her eyes and slept all the way home.

T
he rain left behind a crystalline blue sky and seventy-degree temperatures. Sean was marveling at how green and crisp everything looked after the deluge as he and Marvin drove over to Juno Grisham's house to learn what, if anything, she and Hilda had seen during the reenactment.

“I think this is going to be a total waste of time,” Marvin whined as he sped through a puddle, splashing the sidewalk. He just missed dousing a dog walker, who stopped and shook her fist at him. He didn't see the woman, and sped on. He was driving the hearse since the police had impounded the Taurus.

Sean couldn't help thinking that almost splashing someone with the company car, especially when one's company car was a hearse, didn't demonstrate the proper solemnity one expected in people allied with the funeral business. But he didn't say anything. He rolled his window down and lit a cigarette. It had been three days since he'd had a chance to sneak in a smoke and he'd been looking forward to this moment ever since he'd badgered Marvin into taking this ride.

“You know you shouldn't smoke in here,” Marvin groused once he realized what Sean was doing.

“Somehow I don't think your passengers are going to complain.”

“No. But my father will,” Marvin replied.

Sean lifted the can of Febreeze he'd liberated from the house. “That's what this is for. He won't know.”

Stymied on that front, Marvin launched into another line of objection. “Why do you have to smoke anyway? It's not healthy.”

Sean snorted. “To paraphrase Clark Gable in
Gone With The Wind
, frankly Marvin, I don't give a damn.”

“You should,” Marvin objected.

“Listen, I have very few pleasures left in my old age and I intend to take advantage of the ones I can indulge in.”

“But what about me?” Marvin cried, turning and looking at Sean. “What about my health?”

“Red light,” Sean yelled.

Marvin slammed on the brakes. “Sorry”

Sean pointed at the Lexus they'd just avoided T-boning. “Given the way you drive, I don't think that inhaling one or two cigarettes worth of secondhand smoke should be at the top of your list of concerns. If I were you, I'd try and concentrate on the road. Call me crazy, but your driving seems like a more immediate health risk to me.”

“That's unfair,” Marvin protested.

“But true,” Sean replied.

“I've been getting better.”

“Also true, but the object here isn't to get better. The object is to not to take your eyes off the road at all.”

“I only do that when you're in the car,” Marvin told him, trying to explain. “It's because you make me nervous.”

“So you've said.”

“It's true.”

“I'll try not to do that.” Sean had no idea how he was going to accomplish that task. According to his daughter, everything he did seemed to make Marvin nervous.

But he didn't know what else to say to the kid. Conversations dealing with emotions eluded him. One thing he did know for sure. In his day, he would never have admitted to an adult male, much less his possible father-in-law, that he made him nervous. Oh well, it was definitely a new time. He sighed. All this talk about being sensitive to each other's feelings just gave him an upset stomach. He took another puff of his cigarette and looked out the window.

“We need to take a left on Wycroff,” he instructed as they approached the intersection.

“I don't know why we're doing this,” Marvin said, repeating himself as he made the turn.

Sean kept looking out the window. “I thought we went over this already.” He admired a blue jay perched on the branch of a fir tree.

“I still don't get it.”

Sean snorted. “What's there not to get?”

“I mean if Juno Grisham knew something she would have told the police.” Marvin stopped for the stop sign on the next block without being prompted.

Sean nodded his approval. He felt pleased with himself. He'd remembered to apply positive reinforcement per Libby's instructions. “I hate to tell you this, but people don't come right out and tell the police the truth. That's what makes policing such a fun job. People lie. They lie all the time. Sometimes there's a reason and sometimes there isn't.”

“But why would she?” Marvin persisted as he slowed down to drive through a large puddle on the side of the road.

Sean laughed. “Let's see. Maybe she doesn't want to talk about how she got played for a sucker by Devlin. Maybe she's hoping that everyone's forgotten about that. Maybe she actually did it. Maybe she saw something and doesn't realize the importance of what she saw. Memory is funny that way.”

“If she does speak to us—” Marvin began, but Sean cut him off.

“She will. You can trust me on that.” After all, he hadn't gotten to be chief of police by taking no for an answer. Anyway, he'd already talked to her on the phone. She knew they were coming.

“If she does,” Marvin continued.

Sean corrected him. “
When
she does.”

“Okay. But if you don't mind, I'll stay in the hearse and wait for you.”

“I do mind.”

“Why?” Marvin asked, managing to keep his eyes on the road.

“Because I want you there.”

“Why?”

“Because you were at the reenactment and I wasn't. You'll be able to spot any inconsistencies in Juno's statement.”

Marvin licked his lips. “What happens if I don't want to be there?”

“For heaven's sake, why not?” Sean snapped.

Marvin didn't answer.

“Why not?” Sean repeated.

Marvin's shoulders sagged. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Sean looked at him. He took one last puff of his cigarette and flicked it out the window. He wanted to say
Man up. Don't be such a wuss
, but he didn't. First of all, he knew intellectually that that really wouldn't help the situation. Second and most important, he knew that Libby would find out what he'd said to Marvin and not speak to him for days. So he steeled himself, extended his arm, patted Marvin on the shoulder, and did the right thing . . . or at least the right thing according to his daughter.

“You need to go into Juno Grisham's house and help me talk to her and I'm going to tell you why. I know this is rough on you. I know it sucks when people believe you've done something you haven't. Believe me, I really do.” Sean was referring to the incident that had cost him his job as chief of police. “But you can't hide. You can't stay in your house and wait for things to cool down, because you know what?”

“What?” Marvin asked.

“Because if you do, you'll never get out of the house again.”

“Sure I will. I'm out now.”

Sean took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm talking metaphorically.”

“Oh.”

“You have to get out and take some action. You have to ignore what people are saying behind your back. Ninety-nine percent of the people who are doing that don't have a clue.” Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me, you'll feel better if you confront this thing head-on.”

“You think?” Marvin said doubtfully.

“I know,” Sean replied.

Marvin chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Because my dad said that I should lie low.”

“Well, your dad is wrong. In fact, I'll tell him that if you want.”

“No no,” Marvin said quickly. “That's okay.”

Sean was secretly relieved. He was not a big fan of Marvin's father nor was Marvin's father a big fan of him. “So are you coming in or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” Marvin asked.

“No.”

“Then I'm coming.”

“Excellent.” Sean leaned back, lit another cigarette, and watched the scenery go by.