Trick or Deceit (12 page)

He was right about “poor” Amanda, at least as far as her wardrobe. Standing beside Rod, she looked like she was dining alone. He'd made an entrance while she sort of drifted in beside him. Liv didn't understand their relationship unless she defaulted to the obvious: He married an heiress and she married a stud. Behind their smiles, neither of them looked very happy.

They crossed the room, Rod dutifully resting his hand on the back of Amanda's drab canvas jacket. Liv knew the jacket cost hundreds, but Amanda wore it like it came from the closest thrift store.

“Did we keep you waiting long?” Amanda asked as soon as Rod had pulled out her chair next to Jon.

“Not at all,” he said. “Liv and I were just catching up.”

“That's right. You've worked together before.” Amanda gave Liv a warm and friendly smile.

“A few times,” Jon said.

And several more when she had been working an event and he'd been a guest.

“How did you and Yolanda meet?” Liv asked.

Amanda smiled. “College. We both went to Middlebury.”

“And did you know the others, there?”

“No. Yolanda didn't develop an interest in Wicca until after graduation. When we were in school, she was an avid skier, studied languages. She planned to become a translator for the UN, that is until she decided to go over to the ‘light' side, as she calls it.”

Liv laughed. “I take it you didn't join her.”

“No, no, we haven't seen each other in years. We reconnected on Facebook and when she found it necessary to relocate her store—she was having some problems where she was before; small minds, you know—I suggested she visit Celebration Bay. She fell in love with it here. And the building was perfect for her, the way the last person had fixed it up to be all natural wood.”

“Does she know its, um, history?”

“Yes. It's not a problem. She knows how to cast out bad spirits.”

The waitress returned with menus and conversation ceased while they listened to the specials of the day. Liv's attention didn't make it past the appetizers. She was too busy wondering what had happened to Yolanda's former store, whether she had she brought those problems with her, and if one of them was the end-of-the-world predictor.

It only took a few minutes for Liv to realize it was going to be a long lunch. There were undercurrents roiling around the other three. Jon hardly touched his food. He was as alert as a hunting dog, though the analogy wasn't really apt; more like an urban damage control consultant.

Rod began complaining in a too loud voice. “We were ready to close up and get the hell out of here, when Amanda decides to let her friend's coven rent out the fish camp for their woo-woo weekends. I just hope they don't trash the place.”

Amanda gave Rod a look that was somewhere between patient affection and steel magnolia.

“You know they'll do no such thing.” She patted his hand, which had been reaching for his Manhattan glass. “Yolanda has pedigree. You'll barely know they've been there. Just a little light cleanup and you'll be done.”

Liv felt a frisson of chill run up her back. She didn't think she had mistaken Amanda's undercurrent of malice. She remembered Chaz saying that Rod wanted to go to Miami for the winter. Liv had just presumed he was a user, but something told Liv that Amanda could hold her own in that relationship. She just wondered whether any of it included love.

Liv glanced at Jon, who was looking out the window toward the lake. She wasn't sure how he fit into the Marlton-Crosby equation and she really didn't have time to figure it out. She just hoped that once he was staying at the inn, rather than with the Malton-Crosbys, he'd be free to concentrate solely on the grant. She needed his full attention so she could convince him of the need and viability of the community center.

“And besides,” Amanda continued, “I wanted to be around to award my donation personally. I think Barry Lindquist did such an excellent job. Don't you, Liv?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Excellent.”

“That's the man whose haunted house was vandalized?” Jon asked.

“Yes.”

“What is going to happen to it?”

“If Barry can't get it back up and running, we'll default to the runner-up.”

“That would be a shame. The Museum of Yankee Horrors was quite good. Unique,” Amanda said. “It was one of the reasons I decided to donate the money outright. I mean, who doesn't love a good haunted house.” She sighed and placed her napkin back on the table. “It's a pity someone was malicious enough to wreck it, not just for Barry but for everyone.”

“We heard that they suspect the runner-up of trashing the place,” Rod said.

“Ernie Bolton.”

“Pretty dumb thing to do. It's kind of obvious.”

“Well, they took him in for questioning, but there doesn't seem to be any evidence.” Liv frowned. “Jon, don't get the wrong idea. This is usually a very safe town, but we have a lot of visitors throughout the year.”

“I'm not complaining. I thought I was going to be bored up here in the hinterlands, but I didn't even get half this much excitement in Bangkok.”

“Yolanda was telling us about it,” Amanda said. “How awful. Poor Lucille. Isn't that just awful, Rod?”

Rod looked up from his roast beef sandwich. “Uh-huh,” he said and kept chewing.

Jon cast him a disgusted look. “Evidently Yolanda heard it from the woman who runs the fabric store, I forget her name.”

“Miriam.”

“Right, who heard it from the lady at the bakery.”

“Dolly.”

“Just one big happy family,” Jon said.

“Usually,” Liv said.

“You don't think someone wanted to kill her, do you?” Amanda asked.

Rod patted her hand. “She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Like she saw something she shouldn't have seen?” Amanda's eyes widened, then narrowed. “Maybe she recognized Ernie vandalizing the place and tried to stop him.”

“They don't know for sure that Ernie did it,” Liv said.

“Who else would have reason to destroy Barry's hard work?” Ron asked. “Or . . . With Barry's place trashed, wouldn't the ten thou go to the runner-up?”

“This Ernie was the runner-up, right?” Jon asked.

Liv nodded.

“Does he need money for any reason?”

“Who doesn't need money?” Rod said.

Something flashed in Jon's eyes. Liv thought it might be disgust. Yes, there were definitely undercurrents going on between those three. Liv just hoped it didn't take Jon's mind from the business of the grant.

“What are you thinking?” Jon asked, and his amused expression was back.

“Me?” Liv asked.

“Yes, you. I know that look. You're way ahead of the rest of us.”

“Not really.” Mainly she was just worried that they might lose the grant and Amanda's ten thousand dollars. “Just that the town is pitching in to help. The entire cast of
Little Shop of Horrors
plus the sewing group at A Stitch in Time are all helping to refurbish the museum. We have every hope that they'll be ready to open in time.”

“But will the police be ready to release the area in time?” Jon asked.

“I'm sure they will.” Liv was getting anxious for the check to come. Not only did she have to prepare for tonight's meeting, but she wasn't sure how much she should be talking about Lucille's murder with Amanda, Rod, and Jon. She didn't want the case to color her project with the foundation.

The waitress finally brought their check, and Jon reached for it. Rod didn't try to argue, just sat there like he knew someone else was going to pay. Liv was pretty sure somebody—Amanda—always did.

The four of them walked out to the foyer. The Marlton-Crosbys said their good-byes and headed toward their car.

Jon lingered behind for a minute. “Thanks for joining us, Liv. I know you're busy and I'm a few days early.”

“I'm always busy, but I'll always be glad to see you.”

He gave her a light hug. “I'll be moving into the inn on Wednesday. If you can arrange some time for me in between your busy schedule, I'd love for you to show me around town a bit.”

“I'd love to.”

“And maybe have dinner?”

“I would love to do that, too.”

“Great. Until then.” He jogged down the steps to the Range Rover and climbed in the back.

Liv watched them go. She was getting a funny feeling about all of this. Sort of like the fly probably felt when he first stepped into the spider's parlor.

Liv walked back to the office, wondering why Jon hadn't called or texted in advance to let her know he would be in town earlier than expected. And when exactly had he arrived? Had he said? Today? Yesterday? The day before? If he'd been here for the award ceremony, surely Amanda would have brought him with her. Or was he really here early to check things out by himself?

She considered stopping by the Buttercup for a shot of caffeine but decided to check with Ted first.

He was reading a thick, oversized soft-covered book. “Tax code,” he said without looking up.

“Do we have a problem?”

“No, just checking, but we do have a mayoral emergency meeting of the judges committee this evening at seven that we'd better prepare for.”

“How? It will just be ranting and screaming and nobody will be able to hear the other guy and nothing will get solved.”

“Is this really Celebration Bay's most illustrious and successful event planner I'm hearing?” He followed her into her office.

She sat down at her desk. “Sorry. Sometimes I just feel like I'm always juggling odd objects.”

“You are, my dear. The secret is not to let the ax fall on your head.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel better.”

He bowed himself out of her office. It was true, but it was funny.
Lighten up, Liv,
she told herself.
It could be so much worse.

•   •   •

They convened that night at seven. Since there were only the members of the judging panel, plus the mayor and Ted and Liv, they were using the smaller meeting room at the east end of the building.

Since Liv knew Janine would be at the meeting, she changed into her meeting suit, which she kept hanging in the event office closet, and traded her loafers for a pair of three-inch heels.

A quick trip to the ladies' room, where she twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her head and reapplied lip gloss, and she was ready for all their questions.

Which made her laugh, since she didn't haven't any answers.

“Ah, I see you're wearing your power suit tonight,” Ted said. “I hope that isn't Jonathon Preston's influence.”

“Don't be silly.”

“He's not going to try to lure you away, is he?”

“Of course not. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, though sometimes I do wonder what possessed me to sign a two-year contract.”

Ted raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

They joined Jeremiah Atkins, who was just coming in the door. Jeremiah was the president of the First Celebration Bank. He looked just how Liv imagined a small-town banker would look. White hair growing thin on top, just the beginning of a paunch above the belt of his suit pants. Tonight he'd traded his jacket and tie for a navy blue cardigan sweater.

They nodded to one another.

“Terrible business about Lucille,” Jeremiah said.

“It truly is,” Liv agreed.

“I don't suppose the police have any leads . . . besides Ernie, that is?”

“I don't know.”

“Neither do I,” Ted added.

“I don't suppose anyone has even considered Barry.”

Ted and Liv shook their heads.

“I mean, he did have that altercation with Lucille's husband over the failed senior complex.” Jeremiah shook his head. “I don't know why people don't ask the advice of their regular banker before they go off and commit their hard-earned savings to some get-rich-quick scheme.”

Liv made appropriate noises as her mind connected the dots. Barry had lost money in one of Carson Foster's investment plans. Ernie gave away property to his ex-son-in-law, who later sold for a profit . . . to Carson Foster.

Could either of those have any connection to Lucille's murder?

The door to the meeting room was open and they walked in to see the other three members of the judges committee already seated. Roscoe Jackson was sitting next to Janine, who appeared to be trying to convince him of something. Probably to figure out how to pin the latest disaster on Liv, since that seemed to be Janine's primary reason for staying close to the business of town hall.

Rufus Cobb was already chewing on his mustache, a sure sign that he was agitated.

And the meeting hadn't even started yet.

Jeremiah sat down next to Rufus. Ted and Liv took a seat along the wall.

“Guess who's MIA,” Liv said under her breath. She wasn't surprised. Chaz had inherited the trusteeship from his father and pretty much considered it a waste of time. Evidently there had been a Bristow on the board of trustees since the beginning of time, so he was stuck. “Do you think he'll come?”

“Anybody's guess.”

As much as Chaz annoyed her, she knew he could be depended on—most of the time—to stand with her and Ted. Liv had a feeling that she could use him here tonight.

The mayor came in and the others stopped talking. He stopped at the head of the table and Liv was glad to see he'd left his gavel behind. He was a firm believer in “the louder you bang, the more they quiet down.” They never did, but it didn't prevent him from liberally sprinkling every meeting with ear-splitting hammering.

He stood at his place, looked around the room, and sighed. “Ted and Liv, you might as well come sit at the table since it looks like we're all here.”

Liv automatically looked toward the closed door. On cue, it opened. Chaz Bristow sauntered in, looked around the table like he was surprised to see them, then sat down opposite the mayor.

Liv looked down to hide a smile.

“Oh boy,” Ted said under his breath. “He's in a mood tonight.”

He and Liv moved to the table.

“I think you all know why I've called you here tonight,” the mayor began.

Only Chaz shook his head.

“Because, Chaz, we have to find a replacement for Lucille on the judging committee.”

“Why? The judging is over.”

“Well, we all thought so, but there may be a need to choose another winner.”

“You have a winner and two runners-up. Isn't that enough?”

“The winner was vandalized and the first runner-up is in jail. We cannot have the official town haunted house owned by a criminal.”

“Now, Gilbert,” Jeremiah said, his deep voice the voice of reason. “Nothing has been proved against Ernie. In fact, I hear they let him out and he's back at home.”

“Maybe not. But they haven't figured out who did it. I think we should postpone inaugurating the haunted house until next October. Since I have the whole board of trustees here, I think we should vote.”

“Wait,” Liv said, half rising from her chair. “There hasn't been any discussion on this.”

The mayor automatically reached for his gavel, realized it wasn't there, and stood. “Doesn't matter. Things are a mess.”

“Again,” Janine added.

Liv gritted her teeth.
One day,
she thought.
One day, Janine, you will see what a real Manhattan event planner is capable of.

“We'll have to cancel.”

“Gilbert.” Ted's voice was sharp edged. Liv blinked. Even Chaz, who had been pretending to doze, turned to look. “You haven't stopped to look at the financial considerations. Much less the suits that will follow.”

“Suits?” The mayor tugged at his collar. “What suits?”

“All the people asking for their money back, plus compensation for their work and supplies, and hours they put in on their entries because it was for a good cause, part of a fund-raiser to aid the town. Over one hundred people paid to enter the contest, knowing they wouldn't win, but just to support the event. That will be a big drain on the town's coffers.