Foul Play at the Fair (26 page)

This was confirmed a moment later when a flying ball of white fur ran down the drive and launched himself at Liv. She leaned over to brush pieces of leaves and dirt from his whiskers and fur. “Are you helping with the fall cleanup?”

Edna Zimmerman, wearing a battered canvas hat, overalls, a fisherman’s sweater, and work gloves, came around the side of the house. “I thought that must be you. Whiskey never takes off like that.”

Ida was a few steps behind. She was wearing her green car coat over her tweed skirt; her flowered gardening gloves and sneakers were her only nod to manual labor.

“So don’t you worry with him being out with us. He’s a good doggie. Aren’t you?”

Whiskey lifted his head and barked in agreement, then pranced by Liv’s side as she went over to say hello to her landladies.

“You heard that Joss is back home,” said Miss Ida.

“Yes,” Liv said. “That’s wonderful.”

“I knew they couldn’t keep him.” Edna sniffed. “There’s no way they had enough evidence to arrest him. I don’t know what Bill Gunnison is about. Letting those two morons from the state police take over.”

“Bill was always such a fine, polite boy.” Ida sighed. “I never saw him as a police officer, though. Still waters run deep, you know.”

“Still waters?” asked Liv.

“Never saw him get angry like some of the boys. Never got into fights.”

Except over Dolly.

“I guess he was just waiting to have the law behind him.”

“Lacked gumption, I always said.”

Ida pursed her lips. “Well, Sister, he’s the sheriff now, and that takes some gumption, and he was never afraid to stand up for what he believed in.”

Edna snorted. “Well, he oughta stop hobbling around like an old man and grow some—” Edna caught herself.

“Sister!”

“Well, he oughta.”

Liv smiled at the sisters. They were always a storehouse
of information. Now, if they could just give her some insight into who might have killed Pete Waterbury.

She realized that both sisters and Whiskey were all looking at her. “I just hope somebody solves this case.”

“Indeed,” said Ida. “What you need, dear, is a lesson plan.”

“Pardon?”

“A lesson plan. Figure out what you need to do in what order to catch the miscreant. That’ll do the trick.” Ida turned to her sister. “Edna, you know it’s dangerous to leave a fire unattended.”

“I was just about to say so. If you’ll excuse us, Liv.”

“Of course. Oh, one more thing.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is the library open on Saturdays?”

“No,” Ida said. “Unfortunately it had to start closing weekends because of the budget cuts.”

Edna shook her head. “I don’t know why those men in Albany think the way they do. People need libraries more than ever these days, what with the economy and all. Not everybody has their own computer, and people looking for work need their resources just as much as schoolchildren and the rest of us.”

“Sister, if you get started on politics, you’ll let the house burn down.”

“I’m not talking politics. I’m talking common sense.”

“You can’t teach common sense.”

“I realize that, but, Liv, if you’re looking for back issues of the
Clarion
, the library doesn’t keep them.”

Liv opened her mouth in astonishment. “How did you know what I wanted?”

“Stands to reason,” Edna said.

Ida nodded. “We just happened to be there the other day, and Lola Bangs, the head librarian, said that old man Bristow was kind of batty and insisted on keeping all the back issues at the
Clarion
office. Such a fire hazard.”

“Off his rocker toward the end,” Edna said. “Sniffed too much print ink.”

“Sister, you’ll give Liv the wrong impression,” Ida admonished. “Don’t worry, dear. It wasn’t Chaz’s father. His great-uncle.”

“If you want to see back issues, say around nineteen eighty-two, you’ll have to ask Chaz,” Edna added with a sparkle in her eye.

“You two are something else,” Liv said.

“Anything we can do to help,” Ida said. “Even if it means going through a bunch of musty old newspapers. Is there anything else, dear?”

“Yes. Would you mind if I came with you to church tomorrow?”

Both sisters beamed at her.

“We’d love to have you,” said Ida. “We would have invited you before but we didn’t want to appear pushy.”

Edna raised her eyebrows at her sister, and Liv had to concentrate not to laugh. She was already completely attached to the two retired teachers.

“We drive over at eight forty-five.”

“I’ll be ready. Thanks.”
Lesson plan
, thought Liv. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

When Liv’s alarm woke her Sunday morning, she had second thoughts. She’d sat at her computer long into the night, charting out suspects, means, motives, and opportunity. It just served to show her how much she didn’t know.

Outside her window, the day was gray and windy. There was rain in the air. She was so tempted to snuggle back under her new down comforter and sleep all day. But the social hour after church would be gossip central, and besides, she could use some divine intervention to catch this killer.

Liv pushed the covers away and went to stare into her closet. Whiskey opened one eye, then went back to sleep.

What did one wear to a country church?
Besides a raincoat
, Liv thought as thunder sounded overhead. She settled on a charcoal suit with a soft, cream silk blouse. She considered her four-inch heels for a millisecond before she tossed them back into the closet and chose a conservative two-and-a-half-inch pump. Very demure, she thought, twirling for the mirror. Maybe she’d just throw those stilettos away and be done with them.

She pushed a recalcitrant Whiskey outside for a quick pit stop, then put on her raincoat and went to wait for the sisters. They were just coming out their back door, wrapped up in raincoats and bonnets and carrying umbrellas. Edna opened the garage door to reveal a twenty-year-old dark green Buick.

“We keep thinking about buying a new car,” said Edna. “But we never really need it, and in summer we have our Vespas.”

Sure enough, two scooters, one bright red and the other royal blue, were parked in the corner of the two-car garage.

“We can take my car,” Liv said. “I should have offered.”

“No, no. Our pleasure,” said Ida. “You get up front with Edna.”

They drove the four blocks to the Presbyterian church and parked in the lot across the street before joining the others fighting the wind to get to the door. They met BeBe coming up the steps. She looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were Presbyterian,” she said to Liv as they climbed the steps.

She wasn’t. She used to be Episcopalian.

Pastor Schorr was standing on the steps, his cassock and hair blowing with each gust.

“Good morning, ladies. I believe winter is knocking at the door,” he declared as the four of them hurried inside.

“But the place is packed,” Liv said to BeBe as the usher guided them to a pew.

BeBe went in first, followed by Liv, then Edna and Ida.

“It always is. People take their religion seriously around here.”

The choir filed into the chancery, and Liv saw Dolly and Fred among the singers.

“Does everybody we know go here?”

BeBe shook her head. “Bill’s a Baptist. Ted doesn’t go at all. Andy’s just about as bad. Let’s see.…Who else?”

Pastor Schorr climbed to the pulpit. He must have come in a side door because his hair was neatly combed. Ida leaned over Edna. “Such a lovely young man.”

BeBe and Liv exchanged looks. Though now that Liv thought about it, the pastor would make BeBe a better boyfriend than the marina guy or Chaz Bristow. For herself, she had no intention of ever dating a preacher no matter how “eligible” he was.

The organ started up, hymnals opened, and the congregation stood to sing “Rock of Ages.”

Liv kind of liked the old hymn and thought it was particularly apt for the current mood in Celebration Bay. They were on the second verse when the back door opened and the Waterburys entered the church. People stopped singing to greet Joss and Amanda, then doubled their voices as the family moved down the aisle.

When the hymn ended, Pastor Schorr raised his hands. “Hallelujah, what a day to have all of us together again. Take a minute to welcome your neighbor.”

People leaned over their seats to pat Joss on the back or shake his hand. There was a general migration toward the Waterbury pew. And above it all Phillip Schorr beamed beatifically at his flock.

When the commotion began to die back, the pastor said in his full-bodied voice, “We’re all glad to see you back, Joss. And I hope your whole family will stay after for our social hour so folks can say hello.”

Joss Waterbury nodded. His face was flushed with embarrassment or some other strong emotion. It couldn’t have been easy for him to walk into that church not knowing how he’d be received. But then again, he probably did know.
Liv hadn’t heard one person in town even hint at thinking he was guilty.

Schorr was a dramatic speaker, and Liv was swept away on his story of the prodigal son, which he must have chosen with Pete Waterbury in mind. Especially when he talked about the most recent prodigal son and made some pretty astute comparisons about both. Several times Liv glanced over at Joss, who sat bolt upright, his gaze focused on the preacher.

After the service they all retired to the basement for coffee and cookies. Joss and Amanda were mobbed by well-wishers, but Donnie and Roseanne managed to stand to the side chatting with several kids their own ages. Roseanne saw Liv and skirted the room to see her.

“Is it over?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“I sure hope so; just don’t say anything unless Bill asks you to.”

“No gossiping. I got it.” She looked more at ease when she went back to join her friends.

Liv had just accepted a cup of coffee when Roscoe Jackson and Rufus Cobb came to a stop in front of her. “We just want to apologize for calling in the state. Jeremiah was sure that they could clear things up faster than Bill, but we never expected them to arrest Joss. We’re on our way to apologize to him.”

“Very altruistic of you,” Liv said. “But maybe you should wait until a more private time.”

“You’re right,” Roscoe said. “Folks will be ready to draw and quarter us.”

Rufus pulled on his mustache. “I told Jeremiah we should stay out of it, but everybody was so worried about Janine and the mayor closing down the festivals, we just sort of panicked.”

“We’re awful sorry.”

“Well, thank you, but you can show your goodwill by voting to continue the festivals when the board meets tomorrow morning.”

“We definitely will, and so will Jeremiah.”

They nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

The Waterburys had already left, and Liv hadn’t even gotten a chance to add her well wishes. Liv and BeBe wandered from group to group saying hello and listening for news. Across the way a woman with a shrill voice had cornered Dolly. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Dolly Hunnicutt.”

“Now, you listen here, Ruth. I’m just doing my Christian duty, letting that boy earn a little money.”

“Don’t blame me if they find you dead on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; he’s a poor, disfigured man, harmless. They’re stuck here without a source of income and it’s the least I can do.”

“Oh dear,” BeBe whispered to Liv. “The natives are getting nasty. Let’s go help Dolly out.”

They crossed the floor and met the Zimmerman sisters on the same mission. Just as they reached Dolly, the woman said, “People might get the wrong idea about where your loyalties lie. You mark my words.” And huffed away.

“Awful woman,” Dolly said. “And talking like that right here in church.”

“That Ruth Benedict never had an ounce of sense,” Edna said.

“And those are the kind who always have something to say when they ought to keep their mouths shut,” Ida said.

Dolly smiled fleetingly at the sisters. “I don’t pay her any mind. But there have been others.”

“Others?” Liv asked. “Have you been getting a lot of that?”

“Some. People don’t know what to think, so they make up for it by minding everyone else’s business.”

Liv wondered if Dolly was counting her among those who were minding everyone else’s business, but her next words erased her doubt.

“You shouldn’t hold it against them, Liv. They’re good
people for the most part. They just don’t like to have their way of life threatened. So they get fractious.”

“Fractious? I’ve got another word for it,” said Edna. “But I won’t use it in church.”

“At least Janine Tudor isn’t here today,” BeBe said.

“She goes to church here?” Liv asked.

“Regularly.”

Edna snorted. “Keeping up appearances. It’s good for business.”

“Sister, for shame.”

“It is a shame,” Edna agreed, turning her words.

“She should be here asking for forgiveness,” BeBe said. “After what she said to you the other day, Dolly, I could have strangled her.”

“What did she say?” asked Liv, Ida, and Edna in chorus.

Dolly frowned. “Oh, she was just being Janine. Told me I was aiding and abetting a possible murderer. Just because I did what any good Christian would do and gave some day-old bread to that poor man and his brothers.”

“She didn’t,” the sisters exclaimed.

“I heard her,” BeBe said.

Edna shook her head. “I bet she started talking about property values.”

BeBe guffawed. “Of course she did. Everything in life circles back to property values for Janine.” She touched Dolly’s sleeve. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make fun. It was a nasty, vicious thing to say, but that woman should get a life.”

“Well, she was certainly trying to at that scoundrel’s funeral,” said Edna.

“The way she chases poor Charles around,” agreed Ida.

“Charles?” asked Liv.

“Chaz Bristow,” BeBe said. “You saw him run when he saw her making a beeline for him.”

Edna chuckled. “Poor man.”

“Indeed,” Ida agreed. “And he’s such a lovely boy with such nice manners.”

“Chaz?” Liv said.

“Charles Bristow, the editor of the
Clarion
,” Ida said as if she were explaining to a slow student.