The Chocolate Castle Clue (17 page)

I punched the talk button. “I'm fine,” I said.

“Well, I'm glad to hear that, Lee. Why wouldn't you be?”

So Aunt Nettie hadn't heard about the chase. I took a deep breath and decided not to tell her right that moment. “No reason. What can I do for you?”

“The question is, what can I do for you? I'm returning your call.”

“Oh.” Then I remembered that I'd called her, ready to make a report on what I'd found out about the Pier-O-Ettes' activities during the football game. That had been hours earlier.

“I wondered if you were ready for a report on that research project you gave me,” I said.

She thought that over before she answered. “Have you told Joe what you found out?”

“I haven't had a chance, but he knows what I was doing.”

“Why don't the two of you come over for dinner?”

Joe had joined me on the sidewalk outside Herrera's, so I turned to him. “Aunt Nettie wants to know what I found out about the Pier-O-Ettes and the football game. She's invited the two of us for dinner.”

Joe's face was still stony. “I'll drop you off.”

He walked over to his truck.

I felt madder than ever. But I managed to use a calm tone of voice as I told Aunt Nettie I'd be there in a few minutes. I was tempted to tell Joe I'd walk to her house—it was five or six blocks away—but I didn't really want to do that, and he was so mad he might have let me. So I got my purse and climbed into the truck without a word.

We had to wait while the wrecker from Holland drove off with my van. Then Joe drove me to Aunt Nettie's. Neither of us said anything on the way. I would have gotten out of the truck without a word, but Joe reached over and caught my arm.

“Please do not go off on any more wild chases, Lee.”

“I imagine Aunt Nettie will keep my time occupied.”

Joe didn't reply directly. All he said was, “I'll be back for you in an hour.”

“Thank you. I'd appreciate a ride home.”

I got out and went to the house. Joe sat there watching until I was inside.

All the Pier-O-Ettes were apparently feeling festive, or at least talkative. The noise level was not low. And dinner was ready. Aunt Nettie had made lasagna, with salad and garlic bread. I'm sure it was delicious to someone who had an appetite.

My appearance threw the table off-balance, of course, and I got some questioning looks from some of the “girls.” But Aunt Nettie didn't explain my presence until after everyone had finished their main course.

Then she had to wait while Ruby finished a slightly ribald story about her third wedding. As soon as the laughter died, Aunt Nettie grabbed the floor.

“Now, girls, I'm sure you're all wondering why I asked Lee to join us this evening.”

They chorused assurances that I was a delightful addition to the party, but Aunt Nettie ignored that.

“The truth is,” she said, “Lee is my right-hand helper in nearly everything I do. And I gave her a project this afternoon.”

She paused for effect, then went on. “I'm afraid some of you have forgotten what a small town Warner Pier is—even some of us who live here. I'm afraid not all of us were strictly factual with what we told Lieutenant Jackson about our activities at the football game last night.”

Nervous laughter.

“So I asked Lee to check things out.”

The first objection came from Margo Street. “You checked our stories?” I wasn't surprised to hear how irate she sounded.

“I asked Lee to do that.” Aunt Nettie was perfectly calm. “I wanted each of you to see just how easy it is to find things out in a town like Warner Pier.”

“I didn't lie,” Margo said.

Aunt Nettie looked at me. I produced the notes I'd made and began. “I'm afraid you omitted some information, Ms. Street. Our chief Warner Pier gossip is a man named Greg Glossop. Greg happens to be part of the volunteer ambulance team, and they were at the football game last night. He overheard you making two phone calls. And he claims you agreed to step outside the game and meet someone.”

Margo Street turned purple. “That was perfectly innocent !”

“I'm sure it was,” I said. “But it apparently isn't what you told Lieutenant Jackson. Don't feel too bad. You weren't the only one who had a few discrepancies in her story.”

I outlined the rest of the things I'd found out. Julie Hensley had also slipped out of the stadium. Hazel had gone to the restroom and stayed inside longer than she had indicated. Ruby had come out of the stands and talked to people. Then she seemed to disappear.

“As far as I can tell,” I said, “Kathy Street was the only person who didn't disappear for a while. She was sitting on a bench near the entrance gate. And Aunt Nettie claims that she stayed in the bleachers and says she has witnesses to prove it. I haven't checked that out yet.”

“You'd even check on Nettie?” Margo sounded horrified.

“I asked her to.” Aunt Nettie was calm. She sounded as if she was explaining something factual, like why TenHuis chocolates did not contain preservatives. “Lee and I are not planning to follow up on this information in any way. I'm sure each of you had a logical—and innocent—reason for the things you did. But I do plan to call Lieutenant Jackson and set up another round of statements. And I think it would be very wise for all of you to come clean.”

“Come clean!” “But I didn't do anything!” These and similar remarks rang out all around the table. The only person who didn't say anything was Kathy Street. She looked around the table, seeming rather excited. I wondered if she understood what was going on.

Aunt Nettie quelled the little rebellion with a gesture. “Lee's inquiries have shown you how easily the authorities will be able to find out if your statements to Jackson weren't exactly true. It won't matter if you amend them yourselves. But if he finds out you fibbed, you could be in trouble.”

She stood up. “You think about it while I get the dessert. Lee, will you help me clear?”

The two of us gathered up dirty dishes and left the table. The others sat in silence. But when we got into the kitchen I heard the voices begin to buzz. When I went back for more plates and salad bowls, they were hard at it. I ignored a few angry looks and kept on playing waitress.

We had served everyone with chocolate mousse and were just pouring the coffee when the doorbell rang.

“That's probably Joe,” I said. “My van's out of commission, so he was going to pick me up.”

Aunt Nettie went herself to let him in. He declined dinner but accepted an invitation to join the Pier-O-Ettes for dessert. Everyone scooted around to make room for another place, and I introduced him to the people he hadn't met earlier.

Finally we were seated for dessert, and the Pier-O-Ettes pulled that little stunt that I've noticed before. Even successful, confident women do this. They all looked at Joe, deferring to the man among them, waiting for him to start the conversation.

Joe didn't let them down. He addressed the table at large. “Did Lee tell you someone tried to kill her tonight?”

The Pier-O-Ettes gave a mass gasp.

Then the talk began. All of them demanded to know what Joe was talking about. What had happened? Who had tried to kill me? Joe had to be mistaken.

Joe shrugged, and I had to tell it.

I tried to make it—well, funny. More like an adventure than an exercise in terror. I thought I was doing pretty well until I saw that Aunt Nettie had pulled a tissue from her pocket and was wiping her eyes. Of course, then I had to stop talking and find my own tissues.

I glared at Joe, who had been calmly eating his chocolate mousse while I talked. My voice came out as a croak. “I didn't tell them, Joe, because I didn't want to frighten Aunt Nettie. Or anyone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Just me?”

I ignored that remark. Yes, Joe was still angry with me. And I was still angry with him. It was going to be a long time before I could forgive the word “stupid.”

Anyway, I gulped a few times and was able to finish telling about the man in the back of the car and the chases—my chasing him, then his chasing me.

Joe might not have given me the kind of sympathy I wanted, but the Pier-O-Ettes did. They all cooed at me. “How frightening!” “What an experience!” Even “You were so brave, Lee!”

I began to feel guilty. “Don't get too sympathetic,” I said. “Joe's mad at me because he thinks I shouldn't have tried to get a look at the guy. And he's probably right.”

Ruby spoke up then. “Honestly! To think of a sex maniac in little old Warner Pier. I can't imagine such a thing.”

“Neither can I,” Joe said. “That's one thing that makes me think it wasn't just a random attack of some sort.”

That seemed to shock Ruby more than the attack had. “What do you mean, Joe? What else could it be?”

“I just find it weird that Lee spent an afternoon asking questions—questions about what you ladies were doing Friday night when you claimed you were innocently sitting at the football game—and before dinnertime someone tried to kill her.”

If I'd thought the Pier-O-Ettes had given a mass gasp earlier—well, this time they sucked all the air out of the room. Then Kathy Street began to weep, Margo Street began to bluster, and Ruby cackled out a strange laugh, the kind that's caused by nerves, not amusement. Hazel frowned so hard she looked like a gargoyle, and Julie Hensley's eyes grew as big as the chrome hubcaps on her beautiful white limo. Aunt Nettie even made her most extreme comment: “Oh dear!”

I don't know what I did, but I was as astonished as they were. Or was I?

Looking back, I think I was astonished that Joe had made that comment. But his conclusion didn't surprise me. I think that suspicion had been circling the airport in my mind all along.

After a minute or two of exclamations, the Pier-O-Ettes quieted down. All of us were staring at Joe. He pushed his empty mousse dish back and picked up his coffee cup.

I finally spoke. “Okay, Joe, I guess I see where you're coming from. We had a real, genuine, authenticated killing—Verna Rice—twenty-four hours ago. Right here, as Ruby says, in quiet, dull, little old Warner Pier. I spend an afternoon trying to find out more about six of the people who knew the victim. And after that someone tries to kill me.”

He nodded. “It seems awfully coincidental.”

“But, Joe, nobody knew I was asking about the Pier-O-Ettes.”

“Greg Glossop knew.”

“Oh. I guess that means that anybody in town could know.”

Margo glared at Joe. “You can't possibly think that one of us killed Verna Rice.”

Joe sipped his coffee before he answered. “Actually, Ms. Street, I don't see any of you as a likely killer. But Lee has a certain reputation in Warner Pier.”

“Ha!” I said. “For nosiness.”

“Curiosity. If word got around that she was asking questions, then someone might have decided to cut off her investigations.”

I was horrified. “Joe, I wasn't investigating! That isn't what Aunt Nettie asked me to do.”

“Then what were you doing, Lee?” Margo Street's voice was icy.

“Aunt Nettie thought several of you had fibbed about just what happened Friday night. She thought you didn't grasp small-town gossip, that you wouldn't understand that the state police would almost certainly hear about the discrepancies. And she was afraid that would make them question you again. All she asked me to do was demonstrate how easy it is to find out what's going on in a town the size of Warner Pier.”

I made a big gesture. “I don't care what any of you were doing! I just wanted you to see how easy it is for the detectives to find out if you had . . . well . . . shaded the truth.”

Margo didn't look mollified, and Hazel was still glaring.

But Julie Hensley laughed. “Okay, everyone, I'll confess!”

We all stared at her.

“Oh, not to murder,” she said. “But Lee's right. I did leave the football game. It had nothing to do with Verna. Heaven knows, if I'd known someone was going to kill her around that time, I'd have stayed put.

“My son was laid off from his job last year. He and his wife are close to losing their home. I met him out at the Shell station and gave him a check so he can pay his arrears and keep his head above water a little longer.”

There were tears in her eyes. “Kyle finds this deeply humiliating, so I'll ask all of you not to say anything about it outside the group. If I slipped away without telling anyone, it was just to save his pride. A year ago he was a car salesman who earned the highest commissions of any salesman in Kalamazoo. This year the dealership changed hands and he's out on the street. He and his wife have a new baby and a seven-year-old daughter. I'm just so glad I have the money to help them out. I'd give him a job myself if I could, but I've had to cut back hours on all my regular drivers. He'd know I had to fire someone.”