Trick or Treat Murder (20 page)

EPILOGUE

Outside, a fine dusting of snow, the first of the season, was softly falling.

Inside Miss Tilley's house a fire was burning brightly, the tea was hot, and the scones were dripping with butter. Lucy reached for another, and Sue's eyebrows shot up in disapproval.

"I can't help it," said Lucy. "I'm hungry all the time. I think it's from working out. I haven't lost any weight, but I feel great."

"Isn't it about time to wean that child?" asked Miss Tilley. "Franklin Delano Roosevelt's mother nursed him until he was two, you know. Look how he turned out." Miss Tilley had regained much of her snap and vigor, and about ten pounds, since she had arranged for Rachel Goodman to come in for a couple of hours every day.

"You mean how he became President of the United States?" asked Rachel, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Rode into office on Teddy's coattails," said Miss Tilley, with a wave of her hand. "He was always a momma's boy, and he packed the Supreme Court with Communists and tried to destroy the free enterprise system." She took a healthy bite of scone and chewed happily; once again the Republicans were in charge and the nation was back on course. "And that wife of his," she paused and rolled her eyes. "Eleanor!"

"My grandfather didn't think much of her, either," admitted Lucy. "He used to say Eleanor Roosevelt and John Dewey practically ruined the country."

"Sound man," said Miss Tilley, nodding. "Is he ... ?"

"No." Lucy shook her head. "He's been dead for quite a while, but he always used to say that he liked Ike."

"We all did," said Miss Tilley, smiling at the memory of the Supreme Allied Commander turned politician.

"So, Lucy, how are you feeling?" asked Rachel, bringing in a fresh pot of tea.

"Fine. Krissy and Vicki gave me some special exercises. I'm sure I recovered faster because of them. My shoulder's a little stiff, but that's all."

"You were lucky," said Rachel. "I didn't want the boys to stay out after the party, but it was a good thing they did. Imagine what could have happened if they hadn't been there...."

"I know," said Lucy. "It's still hard for me to believe it all wasn't a really bad dream. A nightmare. He tried to kill me twice. I never suspected him for a minute. I thought he was a nice guy. I was grate¬ful when he offered to give me a ride home from the hospital."

"You kept telling me it was poor Dr. Mayes," said Sue.

"Well, I did suspect him at first, especially when I learned about Krissy," admitted Lucy. "I think even his daughter, Mira, had her suspicions. I'm glad it wasn't him. And then I was sure it was

Randy Lenk, and the police thought so, too. He was making those anonymous phone calls and his father died in a fire and he lives in that weird house full of junk. But when I opened my eyes and saw Doug holding that two by four over my head, well, that convinced me he was the arsonist. Plus, the fact that he'd filled the car with firewood and soaked it with mimeo fluid was also a clue."

"He was going to burn you up?" Rachel's dark eyes were huge.

"In the car, after he'd bashed my head in." Lucy shuddered. "He was trying to make it look like an accident."

"A very wicked man," said Miss Tilley. "Now that I think of it he was a sneaky little boy. I used to find him in the adult book section, sneaking peeks at Peyton Place."

"You allowed a book like that in the library?" Lucy was surprised.

"I did. Of course, nobody had the nerve to take it out."

The women laughed.

"And how is Jennifer? She always reminded me a little bit of Alison in the book," said Miss Tilley.

"So you read Peyton Place?" Lucy pounced on her.

"Of course. I used to read all the books that I bought for the library before putting them out on the shelves."

"Jennifer's home," said Rachel, who lived across the street from the Mitchells. "She's one brave little girl. She's got pins in her legs—it looks dreadful—but she's absolutely confident that she'll walk again. I saw her playing field hockey in the garage in her wheelchair with a bunch of her friends the other day."

"That was a terrible accident," said Lucy, who immediately wished she could take the words back. Miss Tilley had fallen silent, and was staring at the window.

"Just look at that snow," said Sue, changing the subject. "Isn't it pretty? Soon it will be Christmas!" She loved all holidays, but especially Christmas when she decorated her house lavishly and set up three Christmas trees.

"What will happen to Doug?" asked Rachel.

"They have to decide if he's crazy," said Lucy. "He's been sent to the state hospital for psychiatric tests."

"I don't think an insanity defense will play very well," said Sue, tapping a scarlet nail against Miss Tilley's blue Canton china cup. "He had a solid financial motive, and the fires were all carefully planned."

"That's right," agreed Miss Tilley. "He was determined to develop that property. When the commission said no, he decided to take matters into his own hands and burn it down. Such a shame."

"I don't understand," said Rachel.

"Neither did I," said Lucy. "Until Bill explained the bylaw to me. As long as Durning's antique house was standing, the commission would only let him make changes that were appropriate to the period it was built. But once the house was gone, he had a valuable piece of commercially zoned property right in the center of town. He could build pretty much whatever he wanted, as long as he followed the commission's style guidelines."

"That's right," said Miss Tilley. "That house was a fine old Captain's home built in 1830. He wanted to remodel it into an office complex. It was quite ambitious. There was even a bank, with an ATM machine and a drive-through window. There was going to be a big parking lot—the entire character of the house would have been destroyed."

"So you turned him down?" asked Rachel.

"Of course. We had no choice. But the bylaw did create a dangerous situation, although we didn't realize it at the time. If a historic building was destroyed—by fire or hurricane or Act of God—and couldn't be repaired, then the owner would have a lot more leeway. The commission standards for new construction aren't nearly as strict."

"The ATM would have been okay?" Sue asked.

"As long as it was painted white and had shutters," said Lucy, echoing Bill.

"That's right," agreed Miss Tilley.

"But why all the other fires?" asked Rachel. "He burned down half the town."

"Camouflage," said Sue, with a knowing nod.

"Barney said they're investigating to see if he had financial interests in some of the other buildings. The Hallett House was owned by a realty trust—it's complicated but they suspect Durning would have profited from that fire, too."

"One person who hasn't made out very well is Randy Lenk," said Rachel. "I met Ted at the bank and he said state inspectors found gasoline leaking from his underground tanks. He's going to have to pay for a very expensive cleanup."

"Don't bet on it," said Sue derisively. "When I stopped in for gas the other day, he tried to sell me the station. At a bargain price. Nice of him, don't you think?"

"Not very... you would have got stuck with the cleanup," said Lucy.

"That's the plan. I bet he'll find some poor sucker who thinks he's getting a deal. Lenk wants to move to Idaho or someplace. Said he's sick and tired of the government poking into everything, and there's some other folks out there that think like him. They're forming some militia or something, they're going to reclaim the government for the people, he said."

"Well, they better make him general," said Miss Tilley. "He can't abide taking directions from anyone. Never could."

The women fell silent, and Rachel got up to put a fresh log on the fire.

"I bet you haven't heard," said Sue. "The selectmen have appointed me to the Recreation Commission."

"Congratulations," said Lucy. "That's the perfect job for you."

"I think so," Sue agreed. "In fact, I'm already making plans for a big town picnic in the spring. Lucy's prime suspect, Dr. Mayes, has donated the Homestead property to the town, for a conservation area. Isn't that neat?"

"That's a wonderful way to remember Monica," said Lucy.

"I think so. We're going to put up a nice sign, you'll have to help us with the wording, okay, Lucy?"

"Sure."

"And maybe you could make some cupcakes for the picnic? Say, six dozen?"

Lucy met Sue's eyes, and she smiled. "I'll donate soda, paper plates, napkins, whatever you need. I'll even bake brownies, but cupcakes?" She gave her head a little shake. "Never again."