Foul Play at the Fair (9 page)

He gathered up the dishes and cups and headed for the outer office.

“Ted?”

He paused and turned around in the doorway.

“Who do you think did it?”

Ted shuddered dramatically. “All I can say for sure is it wasn’t me.”

And Liv had to be content with that.

She spent the next few hours collating stats that had already been collected, reading the comments left on the Celebration Bay website, and organizing her report for the wrap-up meeting Monday evening. She made several forays outside to check on the climate, both weather-wise and gossip-wise. The weather was cooperating, and after a few admonishments to stop speculating in public and to think of the money they’d lose if they became the pariah of event towns, the gossip climate also calmed down.

At three o’clock, Liv left to collect the surveys and make the final payments. She stopped by Ted’s desk on her way out.

“Did you take a blank check?” she asked.

“No. Is one missing?”

“I think so. There’s no documentation, and I can’t remember anything after the Dumpster check. Though I didn’t go back to see if we skipped something.”

“Not to worry. I’ll take a look and check the numbers against the bank statements.”

Liv waited until the Zoldoskys took a break before she handed over their payment to Anton. He took it without a word, looked at it, folded it over, and stuck it in the pocket of his vest.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, not being able to think of any other way to say it but feeling she should.

“No loss.”

“I…If you don’t mind me asking…We know who the deceased is. Why did you let him pose as your brother?”

“He is not my brother.”

“Yes, I know, but everyone thought he was.”

He puffed out air and shrugged. “I cannot help what everyone thinks. I never said he was my brother. No one asked me. I hired him when Serge broke his arm. I told this to your sheriff and now I tell it to you.”

He turned his back on her.

Liv left, not feeling the need to say good-bye and hoping they wouldn’t be back the following year.

By six o’clock trucks and vans were pretty much packed up. Tourists had moved to the permanent stores and restaurants as they prolonged what was left of the weekend. Most of the surveys had been returned, and from what Liv could tell from a quick skim, most vendors had been satisfied with the facilities and the traffic.

Ted joined her as she watched the Zoldoskys fold up their proscenium and tie it to the trailer roof. The equipment trunks and air tank for the balloons were placed inside. The balloon maker climbed in back with one brother, and Anton and Serge climbed into the front seat.

Liv breathed a sigh of relief when the trailer pulled away from the curb.

“I’m not sad to be seeing the back of them,” she said.

“Don’t start celebrating yet,” said Ted. “Bill told them not to leave town.”

Dolly was strangely reticent when Liv and Whiskey stopped by the bakery the next morning. She hardly looked at Liv as she sliced off two large pieces of blueberry coffee cake, then reached down to absently pat Whiskey on the head. He nudged her hand and she shook herself. “Oh dear. What was I thinking? I almost forgot your treat.” She rummaged below the counter and came out with one of her special dog biscuits. Whiskey licked her hand before taking it.

Liv had been worried about gossip, but this silence was worse. Whiskey sensed it, too.

“Dolly, is something wrong?”

Dolly’s eyes flitted around the empty bakery; then she leaned over the counter toward Liv. “Is it true? Did they find Pete Waterbury’s body in Joss’s store?”

Liv sighed. The word was out, and there was no use in denying it. “Yes. It’s true.”

Dolly shook her head slowly. “It’s bad news. Bad. Why did he have to come back here?”

“I wish he hadn’t,” Liv said.

“Don’t you go feeling sorry for him. He was as rotten as they come. Poor Joss. He was like a father to Pete. When old man Waterbury died—dropped dead of a heart attack, fell right off the tractor—Joss took over running the farm and being head of the family. But he couldn’t do nothing with Pete. He was just bad. And now he comes back after all these years and makes trouble for Joss again.”

“Again?” Liv asked. “Did he make trouble for Joss before?”

“Oh, time and again, but the last was the worst.”

Liv leaned closer. The bell tinkled and the front door opened. Dolly jumped as if she’d seen the ghost of Pete Waterbury walk through the front door, but it was Fred.

“Came by to see how you were doing,” Fred said to Dolly, but not before Liv caught him giving his wife a stern look. Fred didn’t want Dolly talking to Liv. Or maybe he just didn’t want her talking to anybody.

Liv put on a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m glad to see you this morning, Fred. I didn’t get a chance to thank you last night for all your help and going beyond the call of duty.”

Fred jerked his chin in acknowledgment, almost as if the reaction was out of his control.

There was an awkward silence, and Liv didn’t feel like she could push them to talk without jeopardizing their new friendship.

She took her bakery bag from the counter. “Thanks, Dolly. See you tonight, Fred, at the wrap-up meeting?”

“Sure thing,” he said.

As soon as Liv was outside, she turned to peer through the window. Fred was speaking intently to Dolly, and Dolly looked like she might cry. He wrapped her into a hug and Liv turned away. Was Dolly distraught over Pete’s death? Couldn’t be. Was she afraid?

Liv ducked into the Buttercup, wondering what reaction she’d get from BeBe.

“Don’t know the man, but I didn’t move here until ’ ninety-eight,” BeBe said, reaching for a paper cup. “Everybody says
he was no good, so I guess I’ll take their word for it. But, Liv, do they know who did it?”

“Not that I know of,” said Liv.

BeBe shuddered. “Kinda makes you want to keep looking over your shoulder, doesn’t it?”

She pushed the cardboard box with Liv’s regular order across the counter.

“BeBe, has Dolly ever mentioned anything about Pete Waterbury?”

“Dolly?” BeBe pulled a face while she thought. “No, not that I remember. Why?”

“Nothing. She just seemed upset this morning.”

“I think we’re all pretty upset.”

“True,” Liv said. And Liv had an awful suspicion that it was going to get much worse before it got better.

Ted was waiting for her at the office door. He and Whiskey went through their yodeling routine; then he looked at Liv. “Mayor Worley’s called a trustees meeting this morning at ten. You and I are invited.”

Liv closed her eyes as acid filled her stomach. “Any particular reason?”

Ted took the cups and pastry from her. “He’s in a panic. Afraid he won’t be reelected if he gets the reputation of being soft on crime.”

“It just happened two nights ago.”

“I know, and I don’t know why he’s worried. He’s been the only candidate for the last twelve years. It’s not like anybody else is dying for the job.”

“Does Bill have any leads yet?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

They sat down at the desk. Ted turned the coffee cake over and wrinkled his nose. “Dolly seems off her game this morning.” He held up the burned bottom.

“She was definitely upset. She asked me if it were true. I told her yes. Then Fred came in while I was there and she got more upset.”

“Hmm.” Ted bit into his coffee cake and chewed slowly.

Liv waited for him to swallow. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“Actually, no, I wouldn’t. I think it will be better if we all sit back and let Bill do his job.”

“Is there any other alternative?”

“Liv, hon, you’re in upstate New York. There are lots of alternatives and none of them good.”

“You mean vigilante stuff?”

Ted shrugged, sipped his tea.

Liv waited; she was learning to be patient and let Ted take his time.

“In this case, I don’t think anybody cares if the murderer is found. Nobody who knew Pete will mourn him, and those who don’t will follow everyone else’s lead.”

“Are you’re saying they might obstruct justice?”

“Possibly. More likely, they might decide to nudge justice in a beneficial direction.”

“And that would be…?”

“Let’s just say that if I were one of the Zoldosky brothers, I’d be watching my back.”

Liv was still thinking about Ted’s statement when they walked across the hall to the meeting room. He stopped her outside the door.

“You look worried. Surely a big-city girl like you can handle a little trustees meeting.”

“Of course. It’s just I like it here and I don’t want anything more going wrong.”

“Just be yourself.”

Liv had to smile. “I always am.”

“That’s my girl.” He opened the door and they went inside.

Three of the trustees were seated in a semicircle around a raised dais, all older men whom Liv had met when she’d interviewed for the job. The fourth trustee was again absent; Chaz Bristow had probably gone fishing.

She and Ted took their places alongside the other three.

“Very nice weekend,” said Roscoe Jackson, a diminutive gentleman with a comb-over and a three-piece suit.

Liv smiled. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Too bad it had to get spoiled.” Rufus Cobb scowled and chewed on his mustache. “We just hope you’re not gonna have second thoughts about your job here.”

“Not at all,” Liv assured him. “It’s unfortunate but something that none of us could have predicted or prevented.”

Jeremiah Atkins, the third trustee and president of First Celebration Bank, shifted in his seat to look at Liv. “Unfortunately, that seems to be the case.”

Liv was taken aback. Surely he didn’t expect her to predict murder? She was an event coordinator, not a psychic.

The door opened and Mayor Gilbert Worley came in. Gilbert was short, fat, and friendly. He had graying, brilliantined hair and a gold tooth that glinted when he smiled. Today he was frowning.

Janine Tudor followed him in and took a place on the dais next to him.

“What’s she doing here?” Liv whispered to Ted. “She isn’t a trustee.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s here to cause trouble. Don’t let her rattle you.”

Liv dipped her chin and gave him a look. “Not a chance.”

Ted grinned.

The mayor took his seat and looked over the room. “I see that most of us are here and—”

“Where is Charles Bristow?” Janine shot an accusatory look around the room, as if she thought they might be hiding the newspaper editor. “Really, if he isn’t going to take this job seriously, he should resign.”

Ted lowered his head and whispered, “And she’d be glad to take over for him. If she starts talking about civic duty, we’ll be here all morning.”

“He might not be back yet,” Roscoe said. “I know he was taking a hire out night fishing.”

“Fishing,” Janine said contemptuously.

Liv heard the mayor sigh. He was probably envying Charles Bristow at the moment. Much more of Janine’s caustic behavior and Liv might consider throwing a pole or a rod or whatever in the water, herself.

“Perhaps someone should call him and remind him of his responsibilities.”

The door opened and all faces turned toward it. Charles Bristow wandered in right on cue.

“Good, Chaz, you made it,” the mayor said.

“Mr. Mayor,” he said, managing to ignore Janine completely. He nodded to the others, covered a yawn with a less-than-clean hand, sprawled onto the nearest chair—which happened to be the one next to Liv—and winked at her.

Damn, she bet he’d been standing outside the door waiting for his entrance. She couldn’t help but admire his cheek.

“There are two items I want to discuss today,” the mayor continued. “I’m sure by now you’ve all heard the news of Pete Waterbury’s death.”

Everyone nodded solemnly except Chaz, who said, “Who is Pete Waterbury? Any kin to Joss?”

“His brother.”

When Chaz looked blank, the mayor said, “He left town years ago. But he was murdered night before last, here in Celebration Bay.”

Roscoe nodded. “They found him in Joss’s store.”

“I heard he’d been stuffed into the apple press,” Rufus added. “Whoever heard of such a thing.”

Chaz glanced over to Liv, who looked at her hands. She wasn’t about to volunteer any spurious details. She’d find herself quoted in the next edition of the
Clarion
.

“Huh,” said Chaz, who laced his fingers over his abdomen and settled down into the padded chair.

The mayor cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “First let me say that other than that particular item, the
harvest festival was a resounding success. And we have Liv Montgomery to thank for making things run so smoothly.”

Janine looked like she had just swallowed a bug.

“Thank you,” Liv said. “I couldn’t have done it without Ted and all those who participated. Everyone was extremely cooperative and enthusiastic, and I think we can look forward to many more successful events.” Liv mentally crossed her fingers, just in case this was going to turn into a Lynch Liv mob.

“We’ve already begun to implement improvements that will allow us to expand coming events to include more venues and accommodate more visitors.”

“Good news in this economy,” the mayor agreed.

“I think we all know what a good job Ms. Montgomery has been doing,” Jeremiah said. “But I think we need to discuss how this incident might affect our future. The festivals have boosted our economy, given the town a real revitalization, but maybe they’re growing too big.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Roscoe said.

“No way,” Rufus said. “It’s just a coincidence. Coulda happened anywhere.”

Liv frowned.

The mayor looked thoughtful.

“Well, I must say,” Janine said. The room seemed to shrink. “We never had a murder when I was running the events.”

So that was why she was here. She wanted her old job back. Liv had seen it coming, but she wasn’t really worried. Janine couldn’t have pulled this weekend off with all the help in the world, and Liv thought most of the trustees knew it.

“Now, Janine,” the mayor began.