A Catered Fourth of July (23 page)

“Also true,” Bernie agreed.

“I'm telling you,” Libby said. “When we figure out how Devlin got that musket we will have solved the case.”

Sean rubbed the sides of his forehead. He wished he could smoke a cigarette. They always helped him focus. “Was there anyone at the reenactment who didn't have a reason to kill Devlin?” he asked plaintively.

“Nope,” Bernie said. “Unfortunately not.”

“Not that I can think of,” Libby agreed.

“That's too bad,” Sean said.

“Why?” Bernie asked.

“Because at least then we could eliminate someone,” Sean replied.

Libby sighed. “That's why I said we're not much further along than we were before.”

“But at least we know why everyone wanted to kill Devlin,” Sean pointed out. “Now we just have to figure out how.”

“How do we do that?” Libby asked him.

“Go back to the beginning,” Sean instructed. “That's what I used to do when I was stuck.”

“Go back to the beginning?” Libby repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Revisit the scene with Marvin. See if he can remember anything. Anything at all. Even the smallest detail can lead to something.” Sean reached over and took another gingersnap. “I always liked your mother's gingersnaps,” he reminisced as he took a bite. “But I think these are even better than hers.”

Bernie and Libby grinned. That was high praise indeed.

“It's the fresh ginger I grate into the batter.” Libby was about to explain that her mom had used the powdered kind because that's all there was back then when her dad's cell phone rang.

“Yes?” he said when he picked it up. He listened to the person on the other end for a minute then put the phone back on the coffee table.

“What is it?” Libby cried. From the expression on her dad's face she knew that whatever it was couldn't be good.

“That was Clyde. Evidently the DA is swearing out an arrest warrant for Marvin. He has till tomorrow afternoon to report to the police station with his lawyer. After that, they're going to go get him.”

Libby gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she cried.

“Twenty-four hours. That should be enough time to wind this thing up,” Sean said, trying to bolster her up even though he wasn't sure that what he had said was true.

Bernie reached over and patted Libby's thigh. “Don't you worry. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Like it has been?” Libby asked.

Bernie didn't answer. There was nothing she could say.

“I
s there anything you can think of, anything at all?” Libby begged Marvin an hour later. She, Bernie, and Marvin were in the park standing by the bench where Marvin had dumped the muskets.

“How about shooting myself?” Marvin said.

“Besides that,” Bernie said.

“Ha-ha. Funny lady,” Marvin said.

It was a little after two and the sun was out. As Bernie swatted a fly away from her face, she smelled the roses from the rose garden and that got her thinking. “Libby, you know what we haven't done?”

“Besides solve the case?” Libby replied.

“We haven't talked to Whitney Peters and Holly Roget. Amber told me they're back from the Hamptons. Maybe they saw something.”

“They were busy dancing around in the rose garden doing their Wiccan thing,” Libby pointed out. “How could they have seen anything?”

“You never know,” Bernie replied. “It's worth a shot.”

“I suppose we have nothing to lose,” Libby agreed.

“I do,” Marvin said, remembering his encounter with Juno. “I'm not going anywhere near those two.” He waved his hands in the air. “Those people are nuts.”

“Maybe Bernie's right,” Libby told him.

Marvin bit his lip. “They didn't see anything,” he insisted.

“How do you know if you don't ask them?” Bernie demanded.

“I know because they were jumping up and down like lunatics and then they were spinning around and chanting,” Marvin retorted.

“Fine. Then don't go.” Libby was beginning to get annoyed with him. It seemed as if she and Bernie were doing all the heavy lifting. “We will.”

Marvin spread his hands wide. “I just don't want to spend the last bit of freedom that I have doing that.”

Bernie snorted. “God, you're negative.”

“No. I'm realistic,” Marvin replied.

“You'll be out on bail in no time, if it comes to that,” Bernie told him. “But maybe if we talk to them that won't happen.”

“Maybe.” To be polite, Marvin agreed.

Libby was inclined to go along with Marvin's assessment of the situation, but she didn't want to say that. Instead, she redirected the conversation, getting back to where they'd been before Bernie had brought up the Wiccans. “You must have seen something when you put the muskets in the shed. Or took them out.”

“I already told you I didn't,” Marvin said crossly. The waiting was wearing on him. He just wanted the whole thing over with. He was beginning to think that going to jail would be a relief.

“Be that as it may, I want you to close your eyes and picture the scene,” Libby told him.

“Why?” Marvin demanded. “What is this going to accomplish?”

“Dad said we should go back to the beginning, so that's what we're doing. Unless you have a better idea?” Bernie asked.

Since Marvin didn't, he did as he was told. “Now what?”

“Tell me what happened,” Libby said.

“I already have more times then I can count,” Marvin objected.

“Do it again,” Libby ordered.

Marvin let out a long sigh. He was tired. He was hot. He could feel a trickle of perspiration snaking its way down his back. Even worse, his mind was a complete jumble. With all due respect to Mr. Simmons, he thought that what he, Libby, and Bernie were doing was ridiculous. He couldn't see anything when he closed his eyes, except these little amoeba like thingies floating in front of his retinas.

To be honest, he couldn't remember what had happened two hours ago, let alone what had happened the week before. Maybe if he could sleep, it would be different. But he couldn't. Every time he put his head down on the pillow all he could see was Devlin's face. And Devlin's scream when the musket misfired kept on echoing in his ears. It just wouldn't go away.

“What do you see?” Libby asked.

Marvin opened his eyes. “Nothing. I don't see anything.”

Now it was Libby's turn to sigh.

“Okay, Marvin,” Bernie said, deciding that it was time to try another strategy. “Let's just retrace your steps. Maybe that will jog your memory.”

“Fine,” he replied.
At least,
he thought,
that's better than standing here feeling like a total idiot.
“I parked my car up there.” He pointed to the parking lot near the rose garden.

The three of them walked up there.

“And then?” Bernie prompted.

“I took everything out of the trunk of my car, and carried it down to the shed.”

“Pretend to do it,” Bernie told him.

He did.

“What did you see on your walk down?” Libby asked.

“I didn't see anything,” Marvin immediately answered. “I was too busy trying not to trip as I went down the hill. I was carrying everything in a big pile and I couldn't see in front of me. I should have made two trips, but I was in a hurry and didn't have the time.”

“And then what happened?” Libby asked once they'd gotten down to the shed, which was festooned with crime scene tape.

“I put everything down on the ground.”

“Do it,” Bernie ordered.

“I feel like a moron,” Marvin told her.

“Do it anyway. Then what happened next?” Bernie asked after Marvin had pantomimed the action.

“Then I went to open the lock on the shed, but when I grabbed hold of it, it opened by itself.” Marvin talked as he reenacted what had happened. “I figured someone had left it that way so I took the lock out of the metal loop it was hanging on and opened the door.”

“Did you see anything inside?” Libby asked.

“Like what?” Marvin responded.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.” Libby knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn't help herself.

“No. I didn't see anything. Just dust and cobwebs. I put everything down on the shelves inside and went out and tried to close the lock, but it wouldn't close. I was really annoyed,” Marvin remembered. “I had to get back to work. We had Mrs. Cullen's calling hours in the evening and I had to get back in time to receive the flowers and set up the chairs.”

“So you just left the lock the way it was?” Bernie asked.

Marvin paused. “No,” he said slowly, remembering. “No, I didn't.”

“What did you do?” Libby asked.

Marvin grinned. “I called Rick Evans. I wanted to tell him about the lock.”

“On his cell?” Libby asked.

Marvin shook his head. “No. I tried that first, but when I tried to leave a message his voice mail was full so I called his wife. She gave me the number of the office where he was working so I tried that next.”

“Did you get him?” Bernie inquired.

“No. I got a receptionist. She said he was in a meeting and that she'd give him the message as soon as he got out.”

“After which?”

“After which I hung up.”

“Did you ever call him back?” Libby asked.

“No. I didn't.” Marvin frowned. “I guess I should have.”

“Not necessarily,” Libby said, trying to be supportive.

“But things got really busy,” Marvin said. “There were two pickups. I guess it went clean out of my head until now.”

“Do you remember the number you dialed?” Bernie asked.

Marvin took his cell phone out of his pocket. “It's probably here,” he replied as he pressed CONTACTS, pressed RE-CENTS, and began to scroll down. “There it is,” he cried, tapping the screen. “That's it.”

“Call,” Libby ordered.

Marvin did. As soon as someone came on the line, Libby took the phone and explained what they needed.

“T
hat was a net loss,” Libby observed fifteen minutes later.

According to the woman who had finally come on the line after a five-minute wait, it was simple. Given the circumstances and the time frame, no one at the firm of Aberthay and Marks would possibly remember taking a message like that.

“Oh well,” Marvin said, sounding dejected. “It was worth a shot.”

“At least we have a direction to go in.” Bernie was ever the optimist.

“We need to locate Rick Evans,” Libby said firmly.

Bernie nodded. “And find out whether or not he ever got the message.”

Marvin repositioned his sunglasses. “What difference does that make?”

Libby gave him the look. “Seriously?”

He swatted at a dragonfly buzzing around his head before answering. “Yes, seriously.”

“Obviously, if he got the message then he knew that the shack was open,” Libby said.

“So?” Marvin said.

“So he could have gone in and over-primed the musket,” Libby said.

“Yeah, but we can't prove that he did.”

“It's another nail in his circumstantial coffin,” Libby told Marvin.

Bernie laughed. “Circumstantial coffin! I like that. Maybe I'll use that when we talk to him.”

“He's not going to talk to us,” Marvin declared.

“We won't know till we try, now will we?” Bernie said.

“Even if he doesn't, we can go to Clyde with this. It makes you look a little better—” Libby stopped talking.

She'd been about to say
if you have to mount a defense
, but she decided not to go there.

“I hope you're right.” Marvin glanced at his watch. He could feel his moments of freedom ticking away.

“I am,” Libby reassured him. “But first we have to find Evans.”

“
Finding him
being the operative phrase here.” Bernie took out her phone and called Rick. The call went straight to voice mail. She left a message and hung up. “He's not answering.”

“Now what?” Marvin asked.

“Now we start looking for him.”

They walked over to the van and climbed in. A minute later, the search was on. Bernie drove to the Evans house first, but no one was home, then she tried the mayor's office, the fire house, the post office, and the police station as well as the diner down by the end of Main Street and the bar in the strip mall by the new Thai restaurant. No one had seen Rick Evans . . . or if they had, they weren't saying.

“Maybe he's working in New York,” Marvin suggested.

“Gail might know.” Bernie tried phoning her. That call went straight to voice mail, as well.

“Now what?” Marvin asked.

“Good question.” Libby looked at Bernie. “How about the gun club?” It was the last place she could think of to look.

Bernie agreed. It wasn't as if they had anything to lose. “This time, we go the front way.”

Libby laughed.

“I don't get it,” Marvin said.

Libby explained on the way over. The drive took less than fifteen minutes. Except for a Range Rover and an Infinity, the parking lot was empty when they got there.

“I think those are Rick and Gail's vehicles,” Bernie said as she parked the van by a barrel full of geraniums.

“Do you think this is going to help?” Marvin asked.

“It can't hurt,” Bernie said, opening the door and getting out.

It was gusty up on top of the hill and Bernie could hear the wind whistling. A breeze tugged at her shirt. She looked around as she tucked the hem of her sleeveless white silk shirt back in the waistband of the floral printed cotton skirt she'd gotten at Barney's last week.

The hills on either side were covered with maples, oaks, and beeches interspersed with abandoned farmland. In the fall, the hills would turn shades of gold and red, but now the trees were a tapestry of light and dark and blue and yellow greens. Bernie was thinking that it would be nice to have a cabin out here when she heard the sound of gunfire coming from behind the clubhouse.

“Maybe this isn't such a good idea,” Marvin said nervously.

Libby noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Marvin told her.

“Really?” Libby asked.

“Not really,” he allowed. “It's just that ever since . . . you know . . . the sound of gunfire makes me nervous.”

“Me too,” Libby said. “Do you want to stay outside?”

Marvin shook his head.

Bernie clapped her hands together. “Okay, people. Enough shilly-shallying. Let's go.” She opened the clubhouse door and walked inside.

Libby and Marvin followed. No one was sitting at the front desk, and they walked straight through to the back of the building. The door to the target area was open and they could see the Evanses out there. Rick was shooting at targets and Gail was watching.

“I didn't expect her to be here,” Libby commented.

“Me either,” Bernie agreed, “but I guess the family that shoots together, stays together.”

“Only she's not shooting,” Libby said.

The three of them stepped outside. Marvin, who was the last one out, let go of the door, and it slammed in back of them. Rick lowered his rifle and spun around. Gail followed his lead.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“We have a question to ask you,” Bernie replied, indicating Marvin and Libby with a wave of her hand.

“Come back when we're open and I'm sure Tim will be able to help you out,” Rick said. “We're closed till five o'clock.”

“Then how come you're here?” Libby asked.

“We're members,” he said.

Gail stroked his arm. “Rick is practicing for a competition and I'm his cheering squad.”

“At this rate, I need all the practice time I can get,” Rick said.

“This will just take a minute,” Bernie said.

He was about to say something, but Gail laid a hand on his arm. “Let them ask. It'll be quicker that way.” She flashed a smile at Bernie. “What do you want to know?”

“We want to know whether or not Rick received a message from a receptionist at Aberthay and Marks telling him that the lock on the shed near the rose garden was broken,” Bernie replied.

“Unfortunately, I didn't,” Rick replied.

“Why unfortunately?” Libby asked.

“Because if I had, I would have fixed the lock, and poor Marvin here,” Rick inclined his head in Marvin's direction, “would have been spared what he is going through now.”

“What if I told you that the receptionist we spoke to said otherwise?” Bernie asked.

“Then I would say she's a liar,” Rick replied pleasantly.

“Why would she lie?” Libby asked.

He shrugged. “Not being gifted with ESP, I couldn't tell you. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Gail pointed to the clock. “If you don't mind, my husband would like to get back to practicing. He's facing stiff competition tomorrow night and I know he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.”

“My lovely wife is correct.”

Bernie and Libby watched as he put down his musket, came over, and clapped Marvin on the shoulder. “I just want you to know that I wish you good luck and I'm sorry for what happened to you. If I could do anything about it, I would.”

“He definitely would,” Gail echoed.

“That's not what you sounded like when it happened,” Marvin replied.

Rick Evans glanced down at the ground, then back up at Marvin. “I know. If it's any consolation, I feel terrible about that. I was . . . I was hysterical. I didn't know what I was saying.”

“It's true,” Gail put in. “When he got home, he told me he felt dreadful the way he'd acted. He even tried to call and tell the police, but by then it was too late.”

Rick nodded. “I did. Hopefully after you're cleared, you'll be able to look at this as a blip on your radar of life.”

“That goes double for me.” Gail lifted her eyes up to the heavens. “I have you in my prayers.”

Bernie, Libby, and Marvin turned as one and headed to the door.

“Great,” Marvin muttered as they walked back through the club. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well, at least Rick apologized,” Bernie pointed out.

Libby frowned. “Small consolation.”

“Maybe he'll be willing to testify on Marvin's behalf,” Bernie said, thinking ahead.

“Testify?” Marvin repeated. “Did you say testify? I thought things weren't supposed to get that far.”

“It's always good to have a backup plan,” Bernie explained. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Marvin demanded.

Libby stepped in before Bernie could answer. “You're not helping anything,” she told her.

“Why?” Bernie asked. “Would lying be better?”

The sisters were still bickering when they got outside. They were all walking toward the van when Marvin came to a complete standstill.

“What's the matter?” Libby asked him.

“I think I just remembered something.” He was staring at the Range Rover.

“What?” Libby inquired.

“Oh my God.” Marvin put his hand up to his mouth. “I remember this car. It was parked about two feet away when I came back up the hill. Rick Evans must have been there all the time. He must have followed me from the costume store. All that stuff about being sorry.” Marvin's voice rose. “He lied to my face.”

“Calm down, Marvin,” Libby told him.

“I am calm, Libby.”

“Why didn't you say anything before?” Libby demanded.

“Because I didn't think that car was Rick Evans's. I thought he drove a BMW.”

“He drives both. Let's find out what he has to say about this.” Bernie turned around and went back inside the gun club.

Libby and Marvin followed close behind.

“Hey, Rick,” Bernie yelled when she got to the gun range. “Marvin says he saw your Range Rover by the rose garden the day he put the stuff for the reenactment in the shed. He says you were watching the whole time.”

Rick and Gail turned around. Rick looked ready to bite someone's head off. “What are you babbling about?”

“I saw your Rover at the rose garden,” Marvin said.

“You most certainly did not,” Rick snapped.

“I did.” Marvin shook a finger at him. “You lied to me.”

“About what?” Rick seemed genuinely bewildered.

Marvin took a step toward him. “I was right. You set me up. Don't even think of denying it.”

Rick was about to reply to Marvin's accusation when Gail tapped him on the shoulder. “Er, darling.”

“What?” he spat out, annoyed at being interrupted.

“I, er . . . I loaned the Rover to . . . to . . . Tony.”

Rick's eyes narrowed. “Tony Gerard? The Tony Gerard that smashed my car into a wall when he was backing into a parking space? That Tony?”

“Well, yes,” Gail replied.

Rick's eyes widened. “You loaned
my
Range Rover to Tony Gerard?” His tone was incredulous.

Gail gave a nervous little cough. “It was just for a little while.”

“Why would you possibly do that, Gail? That vehicle cost me $75,000. No one drives that but me. You know that.”

Gail fingered the edge of her polo shirt. “Tony's car was being fixed and he needed to do an errand,” she replied in such a low voice that Bernie had to strain to hear it.

“So you loaned him my car?” Rick's voice got louder.

“It was just for half an hour.”

“What were you thinking?” he demanded.

Gail licked her lips. “I didn't think it would be such a big deal.”

He shook a finger at his wife. “No. You knew it would be. You just didn't care.”

Gail straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “You would never have noticed if I hadn't told you.”

“So, that makes it right?”

Bernie cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

Rick and Gail didn't turn around to look at her, much less answer. They were too busy glaring at each other.

“I guess we'll say good-bye now,” Bernie said.

Neither Rick nor Gail answered.

“Don't worry we'll close the door on the way out,” Libby told them.