Gourdfellas (25 page)

“Holly Herman,” Susan declared, as though she were bidding on a fine antique at an auction. “I must spend half my salary at the bookstore, so we’re on pretty friendly terms.”

The list was narrowing; only Melissa and I hadn’t made our choice. “I can’t very well be impartial about B. H. Hovanian since he’s my lawyer. So that leaves Joseph Trent. I go there for Neil’s meds, and he’s even given me some herbal sleeping remedy, so I can check him out.”

“Which leaves me to find out what’s beneath the very virile surface of our Armenian lawyer friend. I don’t mind doing that, not one bit.” Melissa smiled.

Unexpectedly, I felt a pang of jealousy. He was an attractive man, but we were on a strictly business basis. Weren’t we . . . ?

Melissa made designs in the chocolate mousse with her fork and said, “Sounds good, our plan. But I still don’t know what to say. I can’t go up to someone and say, ‘Would you please tell me if you have a secret that Marjorie threatened to expose?’ and then wait for the truth to come spilling out.”

Elizabeth pressed her elegant fingers together. “We’ve been limited because we don’t have access to what the sheriff ’s department knows, haven’t seen the note that was found in Wonderland, haven’t had a chance to examine that address book, weren’t present when Marjorie’s house and office were searched. So we have to do what we can by creative thinking, observation, and a little canny interrogation.”

I laughed. Despite being the one in need of saving, the situation suddenly struck me as amusing. Maybe it was the surreality of it all—my quiet country existence turned into the most challenging contest of my life. And here was a friend talking about “canny interrogation.” Before I could say anything, Susan stopped in front of the fireplace and clasped her hands in front of her.

“You know what? I feel dis-canny. Without a single can. I don’t know how to get my neighbors to tell me stuff without making them think I’ve lost my mind.” She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Not that it matters. But I really can’t figure out what I’d ask.”

“Just keep opening doors,” I said, thinking about how mediators are trained to ask questions that get people talking. “Be interested in what they’re interested in. Don’t put words in anyone’s mouth, and don’t judge what they say. I guarantee that you’ll hear more than you expect.”

Elizabeth’s mild surprise shifted to a nod of approval. “Lili’s right. It’s different when I’m in a courtroom or taking a deposition. When I’m fishing for information, I just try to set things up so that the person can ramble. People love talking about themselves. That’s how I found out about Marjorie’s will.”

She also knew how to get our attention. Everyone froze, mid movement.

“Aha, I knew you’d perk up. I just want to make sure we don’t think ourselves into a corner, that we keep all the possibilities alive. Long story short, Marjorie’s attorney’s clerk was sitting next to me at The Creamery this morning. I engaged her in a little chit chat about her son, who’s graduating from Walden High this June. One thing led to another and suddenly we were talking about Anita Mellon, about how she’d never finished school, and how hard things are for her.” Elizabeth licked a curl of whipped cream from her fork and smiled.

“Stop playing, Elizabeth, and tell us!” Melissa’s smile was real but so was the annoyance in her voice.

“Okay. Anita inherits the house. Plus investments—are you ready?—worth nearly a million dollars.” Now, Elizabeth sat back and took a long gulp of now cool tea. “If that’s not a good reason to make sure Mommy Dearest bites the dust I don’t know what is. The fact that Anita was in Tennessee at the time isn’t really important.”

“She could have hired someone,” Nora said, sitting on the edge of her chair. “Someone local she could pay off. Or even someone not local.”

Melissa frowned and said, “Or even someone she didn’t have to pay off.”

Linda Bannerman’s pleasant face wafted in front of me like a smoke ring that curled through the air and then disappeared.

“But then why would they try to make it look as though I was the one responsible?” My thoughts wouldn’t line up, wouldn’t stop long enough to be sorted out and evaluated. “So, does this mean we drop the casino idea? What about the people whose property is directly adjacent to the site? People whose lives would be most directly affected, aside from Ira Jackson, who owns the land.”

“Only two people abut that parcel directly. Nathaniel Bartle owns the big field that forms the north and the west borders, so I guess his pro-casino ethics trump his privacy concerns. Jonathan Kirschbaum and Trisha Stern own the plot on the east side of the site. The road is the south border.” Melissa’s voice dropped off at the end of her sentence, and she seemed to drift away into thought.

“What
about
Jonathan and Trisha? She’s said more times than I can count on both hands and feet how much she loves her house. Sometimes I think she married him for that piece of land.” I wished I didn’t like Trisha as much as I did, wished I’d have a more objective view of her passion for her home and where that might lead her. “You think your principal might have taught her how to shoot a rifle? She didn’t grow up in the country like the rest of you. Watching your fathers and the neighbors and all.”

“Trisha’s too smart to think she might actually get away with murder,” Susan said. “And too nice to do it. I don’t see it. But given the mysteries of human nature and how much we don’t know about the people in our lives we can’t rule her out.”

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to jump out of her chair and pace the floor in her stockinged feet. Her long dark hair, freed from its pins and clips, swung like a sheet of silk as she made a sharp turn and came to a stop in the middle of the room. “We’re stuck here. We’re going around in the same circles. We need a rectangle or a hexagon or some other shape. I hate to say this, but we really do need to think outside the box.”

My pulse quickened. She was right, and I had the feeling that we were about to sail into new waters. “Okay, we’ve gone down a couple of paths. There’s the casino, our poor mistreated Anita, and now the entire roster of Marjorie’s clients. Is there something we’re not seeing, another category?”

“The part we keep shoving off to the side,” Nora said softly, “is that someone is trying very hard to make it look as though you killed Marjorie. We need to look at who had something against Marjorie, sure. But we shouldn’t forget that someone wants to pin this on you.”

Elizabeth stopped so suddenly she almost knocked over the chunky red vase on the coffee table. “Who would gain from both things—Marjorie’s death and Lili being blamed? Anita doesn’t have anything to do with Lili. I know Tom Ford wrote a letter to the town council opposing the casino but why would he want to frame Lili? He’s not getting the cottage back. It might have been an unorthodox method of payment, but the cottage is hers and it’s legal. The real estate attorneys made sure the deed was in Lili’s name and she’s been paying taxes. What about Seth? Maybe he opposes the casino because he thinks it will dry up his business and also because he has another use for the land. Framing Lili would be an extreme way to tell her that he doesn’t think the relationship is going anywhere.”

“What?” I felt gut-punched. “Are you saying . . . did he tell you he doesn’t want to see me any more?”

All eyes turned toward the fireplace. Elizabeth frowned, took her time, finally said, “I don’t know anything about how Seth feels about you. We’re exploring possibilities. Talking hypotheticals. Trying things on to see if they fit all the circumstances.”

Of course that’s what we were doing. So, why had it felt as though she’d said the very thing I didn’t want to hear? I wanted to be the one to call it off, to say it wasn’t working. When the time came.
If
the time came . . .

“Sorry. Touchy subject. Let’s go on,” I said evenly, hoping my smile convinced everyone that all was fine with me.

“That reminds me,” Nora said, her generous mouth spreading in a smile. “You get your computer back, Lili?”

“Not yet. They said they’d let me know when the tests are finished. Listen, instead of going around in circles, let’s go in one direction at a time. Maybe we’ll keep coming back to the same place, but that’s all we can do. Let’s concentrate on Marjorie’s clients. Start with the ones we know and then when Elizabeth gets the complete list we can expand.”

Everyone agreed that the plan was sound.

“And,” I said as I finally lifted my fork and scooped up a piece of Nora’s beautiful pie, “I’m going to tell Michele Castro about my conversation with Anita.”

Elizabeth had returned to the sofa and sat, feet planted straight in front of her, like a schoolgirl trying for a behavior commendation. She quirked an eyebrow and nodded. “We do need to let the police know when we find anything significant. And Anita’s little bombshell definitely qualifies.”

That phone call wouldn’t be the most fun I ever had, but it had to be done.

Michele Castro asked a couple of questions about Anita and our conversation, and then thanked me for my time. The phone call lasted about seven minutes, and when it was over, I felt deflated. The relief I’d expected lasted only long enough for me to replace the receiver.

“You have to talk to Seth and find out what’s going on. That’s why you’re so wired. I know you think it’s because you’re falling behind on your writing deadlines. But that’s not why. That’s just another result of all the other stuff. The stuff that you can’t just push into a drawer until later.” My brother pointed his grilled cheese sandwich at me accusingly. “You need to get it over with, Lili. Have the talk. Ask the questions. But do it smart. Safe, I mean.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear the answers.” That was it. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that Neil was right and I’d have to do it. Otherwise, I’d have only fear, and that was a sack of stones I didn’t want to drag around with me. “Okay, I’m going to do it. We’ll take a walk or something and get things straight.”

Neil laughed. “You don’t want to do this somewhere that’s isolated, right? No meeting the bad guy in a dark alley.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” I said, smiling. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

 

I love that Rhinebeck is fifteen miles from Walden Corners. That makes it close enough for me to enjoy the movies at Downstate, the great selection of books at Oblong, and the lovely luxury items that the exclusive shops sell for prices way out of my range. It’s also far enough so that I can avoid the weekenders with attitude that they fling over their shoulders with all the casual self-consciousness of their cashmere sweaters.

“I need to buy my brother a special birthday gift,” I’d told Seth. “Would you meet me at Ponte Vecchio and help me pick out just the right thing?”

That part was true.

And it was also true that when I saw Seth get out of his truck, a pang of regret stabbed at my heart. His son Ron climbed down from the passenger side and the two stood talking and laughing for a minute, until Seth grabbed the six-foot tall boy in a hug and then watched as Ron headed for the movie theater. Even from across the street, his face glowed with satisfaction. At least he didn’t seem to be conflicted about fatherhood.

I waved, and Seth headed toward me. His jeans showed his long legs off, and his broad shoulders filled out the teal blue sweater nicely. He looked pretty fine, and I almost forgot the plan.

He kissed my cheek and then stood back and looked at me. “So, should we go walk around the store and pretend that we’re looking at cashmere sweaters or do you want to tell me what this is really about?”

I’m sure I turned the color of the tulips in the window box of the antique shop down the street.

“Okay, so I’m not good at prevarication. I do have other talents.” I collected my wits and grabbed Seth’s elbow. “Let’s walk a little and then we’ll go sit down someplace where we can see each others’ eyes.”

“Always a good idea. I mean, if you’re going to say what I think, then making eye contact is going to make it harder and maybe you won’t say it.”

As we approached the town parking lot, the meaning of his words hit me. He thought I was going to tell him that I didn’t want to see him any more. This had gotten way out of hand. All because I’d let my imagination get carried away. And I was still doing it.

“There’s a bench,” I said. “Look casual and maybe no one will know we’re going to grab it.”

He laughed and sat down on the bench. His eyes scanned my face as I unzipped my sweatshirt and then sat beside him.

“I’m confused, and we need to talk about a couple of things.” Well, that certainly sounded like the intro to a brush-off. “It’s all about Marjorie’s murder. I’ve been under the microscope, which has me in knots. I no longer trust people I thought I could depend on. I keep seeing things through a dark lens. Some of it has affected how I think about you. Two things especially.”

Before I could find the words to start the hard part he said, “I bet I know what one of them is. Your gang has connections to everyone in four surroundings counties, so I have to assume that you’ve heard about my little trip to see Anita. I see now that I should have just told you where I was going and why, instead of making up that lame excuse about canceling dinner to do paperwork. I should have let you know
who
. It was pure business—the house, a possible mortgage customer. I was trying to keep things simple at a time when you had so much on your plate. I’m sure by now your friends have told you that I dated Anita in high school. That was more than twenty years ago, Lili. There’s nothing between us now except a potential business deal. I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest.”

Either he was a very good actor, or I wanted to believe him, or he was telling the truth.

I nodded. “Makes sense, what you’re saying. I can understand that it’s a little tricky, trying to protect me. That’s another conversation, though. Plus, we’re seeing each other, we care about each other, but we don’t owe each other explanations for every move. God, I hope I
never
get into a relationship where that’s a requirement.”