War and Peas (19 page)

“Not yet."

“Why?" Jane asked.

“Because his greasy fingerprints are all over that pea-storage thing."

“You're not happy with this, are you?" There was a long silence before he finally said, "No, I'm not. But I'm not in charge."

“And you're wishing you were," Jane concluded. "Why don't you agree?”

Mel sighed. "A lot of reasons. Partly because he has a story to account for the prints. He says he heard some visitor telling about a fantastic pea that would, if he could find it, revolutionize agriculture. It's such a nutty, Caspar-trying-to get-something-for-nothing story that I'm inclined to believe him. It's not that I think he
couldn't
have committed the murders. He's very much a suspect in my mind. But I don't think the fingerprints prove anything."

“Mel, I knew about that amazing pea. I should have told you," Jane said. "Couldn't he have been rummaging around down in the basement and Derek interrupted him? He could be vicious when his get-rich-quick schemes are thwarted."

“That's just it, Jane. He is, at heart, a petty criminal. And even the stupidest crooks know you don't leave fingerprints all over the scene of a crime."

“But wasn't trying to steal the pea a crime?"

“Not the way he sees it. He says his great-grandfather developed it, and it's rightly his. He reluctantly includes his sister as a potential beneficiary. Besides, rummaging around in that cabinet isn't a crime that was likely to involve a crime lab and fingerprints. It was just snooping."

“Did he find the pea?"

“Jane! Who cares? Like anybody could grow a fifty- or sixty-year-old pea! It's just another loony idea of his.”

Jane didn't want to argue seed viability, especially since she was completely ignorant on the subject — not that such considerations always stopped her — but she said, "Still, did he find the pea?"

“He claims he didn't."

“Good. If that pea exists and if it could grow and if it could be patented, it shouldn't belong to him."

“Given all those
ifs,
I'm not sure you're right, legally. But it doesn't matter. I don't care about the amazing pea — I care about the real murderer being caught. And Rolly's just trying to swirl his cape and show off that he can solve a murder investigation from the privacy of his own bathroom."

“Rolly's the officer in charge? And he's still sick?"

“I was overstating it a bit," Mel admitted.

Jane smiled smugly. He was always accusing her of this sin. But she didn't let her satisfaction creep into her voice. "What about Regina's death? How does Rolly figure that?"

“Sheer dislike, frustration, and annoyance on Caspar's part. Regina had, in his view, tricked him out of a fortune that should have been his, and after exhausting all his legal recourses, he just went berserk and killed her out of spite. I don't buy it. Caspar Snellen is a coward. His method of operation is annoying lawsuits. He'd brought at least a dozen of them against various people in the last ten years and collected rather nicely. He's one of those people who deliberately trip on escalators and then sue the hell out of the department store."

“You're kidding!"

“He never wins, legally. Because the stores always settle rather than going to the trouble and expense of going to court. He's done well at it. Fifty grand here, seventy-five there."

“Doesn't sound like a man who would shoot a woman out of spite," Jane said. "If he's that good at the legal shenanigans, he could have exercised his spite by inundating the museum, and Regina, with frivolous suits."

“That's my thinking, too," Mel said. "I don'tdiscount the fact that he could kill. But not for the motives Rolly's come up with. Either the motives are wrong or the suspect is."

“Or both," Jane said.

“Most likely both," Mel agreed. "Oh, something else you're sure to ask me about sooner or later — Regina's will. She left almost everything to Lisa Quigley. The house they lived in, some stocks and bonds."

“When was it written?" Jane asked.

“About a year or so ago," Mel said. "Nothing to her family?"

“Nope," Mel replied. "She was an only child, parents both dead. There is an aunt and uncle who seem to be pretty well off in their own right. There were a few other bequests, too. The public television station, the Salvation Army."

“Nothing to the museum?"

“No, but the will was written after Daisy Snellen died. She knew the museum had already been extremely generously endowed."

“That makes sense," Jane said. "How much of an estate are we talking about?"

“About two hundred thousand, plus the house. Uh-ho, I'm being paged. Talk to you later.”

Jane
finished
cleaning
up the kitchen,
bellowed
at the kids that she was going next door, and went to report in to Shelley about her call from Mel.

“What in the world are you doing?" Jane asked. Shelley had covered her kitchen table with a piece of plastic and had some tools, brushes, rags, bottles, and a bunch of tarnished silver serving pieces laid out.

“I'm polishing silver. For the last time ever!" she exclaimed. "Paul's mother is a great believer in silver, as you know. I've never figured out if it's an especially Polish thing or just her private obsession, but she keeps giving me these things and I'm expected to keep them polished and on display at all times. But I've had one of those Life-Changing Revelations. She called this afternoon when she got home from a trip and told me that her hip is still giving her trouble and she's decided she's not ever going on a plane again and we'll have to visit her instead. That scenario has its drawbacks, but on the other hand, she'd never know that I've cleaned this stuff for the last time, wrapped it in airtight plastic, and put it away. So what do you want to work on?"

“Shelley, your house is going to look empty without all this."

“Yes! Won't it be wonderful?"

“Give me a platter. I'm good with platters. Mel just called. We were right about someone overhearing the elderly gentleman's discussion with Sharlene about the Little Beauty pea. It was Caspar and his fingerprints were all over the pea-bin drawers.”

Shelley handed Jane a platter, a rag, and a bottle of silver polish. "Do the police think he killed Derek?"

“Mel doesn't. Rolly, who's the officer in charge, does. Mel isn't happy. They haven't arrested Caspar yet, but have him in for questioning." Jane went on to recount her conversation with Mel as best she could remember it, including Caspar's skills at initiating frivolous but profitable lawsuits.

Shelley put a tiny buffing pad on a miniature electric drill, smeared the pad with silver polish, and plugged in the drill, but didn't turn it on yet. "I'm inclined to agree with Mel," she said thoughtfully. "It seems to me that a person who knows how to use and abuse the legal system as well as Caspar can would be unlikely to simply ignore it and resort to violence. Not that Caspar couldn't be driven to violence by something, but not, I think, by the faint possibility ofthose peas being able to grow and him being able to someday make money on them."

“I agree, but if he were furtively rummaging around in the pea bin and Derek took him by surprise—? Remember, Derek was already very angry over his conversation with Jumper. Derek might have gotten very nasty with him.”

Shelley turned on the little drill and applied the whirling buffer pad to some elaborate scrollwork on a serving fork. "Yes, but what was Derek doing down there?"

“Good question. I have no idea."

“I can't think of any reason, either, except that somebody asked to meet him down there. And that suggests a plan, not an accidental meeting. So if you eliminate the element of surprise, what possible reason would Caspar have for killing Derek?"

“And Regina," Jane added.

“Yes, and Regina. But for the moment, let's consider Derek's murder alone. We don't even know when Caspar was in the basement, do we? He might well have gotten his hands all over the pea bin any time this week. In fact, he was probably the one who messed things up down there a couple days ago. Before Derek was killed.”

Shelley got up and rinsed the silver polish off the fork at the sink and held up the result proudly. "Are you impressed?" she asked.

“Enormously," Jane said dryly. "How come you get a power tool, even if it is a wimpy little one, and I'm the slave labor with the rag and the toothbrush?"

“I think it's just because Life Isn't Fair."

“Mel says Caspar's being very defensive about the pea thing," Jane went on. "He's claiming he has every right to try to find and develop it since it was originally grown by his great-grandfather. I guess the legality of that would depend on Auguste's will. But the fact is, Caspar has convinced himself of it. All the more reason to discount the theory of Guilty Surprise."

“So if we eliminate Caspar and assume someone asked Derek to meet them down in the basement, who have we got?"

“Practically anyone," Jane said.

Shelley was working on another serving fork. "Isn't it most likely it was a spur-of-the-moment thing having to do with the nasty things he'd just said to Jumper? Who did he go after? Babs, Georgia, and Jumper himself."

“Right. Plus a crack about Regina and one about Jumper's friend the anchorwoman."

“I think we can probably eliminate the anchorwoman," Shelley said with a smile. "And Regina was dead by then."

“All he said about Jumper was that he dressed funny — and Jumper
does
dress funny. Apparently it's deliberate. Besides, it's inconceivable that anyone would kill somebody because of a comment about their wardrobe."

“Right. Otherwise that guy who does the Worst Dressed List would have been blown away years ago. So that leaves Babs and Georgia, both of whom were around and could have heard what Derek said."

“Yes, and Babs explained to us what he meant about her killing her husband.”

Shelley looked up and turned off the drill. "Actually, Babs told us what she wanted us to know. It was certainly convincing and probably the truth, but — well, what if it wasn't, Jane? What if it was just her sheer force of personality that convinced us?”

Jane thought for a minute. "But her story does match what Sharlene told us about the newspaper article. Once you discount Sharlene's romanticism."

“Okay, that's right. So that leaves us with Georgia, who's an ideal suspect."

“Uh-huh. She could have killed Derek because he'd dumped her — or was getting ready to. The Lover Scorned. And she must have known she was under a cloud over fudging the fund-raising. And if she had confided in Derek about some other funny-money stunts, then heard him shooting off his mouth — well—"

“And she's a suspect in Regina's death as well. For much the same financial reasons." Shelley turned the serving fork around to work on the other end. "You know, there's another possibility, if, in fact, Derek's death is related to what he said to Jumper."

“Let me guess. Whitney Abbot."

“Listen, Jane, it's possible. He'd lost his fiancée and then overheard a slimeball calling her names and commenting on her sexual preferences. He'd be justified in being real damned angry.”

Jane got up to rinse off the platter she'd been working on. "You're going to have to do the fancy stuff around the edges," she said, reaching for a dishtowel to dry the piece. "Okay, I'll give you the point that Whitney would have found Derek's comments offensive if he heard them, or heard about them. The problem with that theory is Regina's death. I find it hard enough to believe that one of the people at the museum is a murderer, and impossible to consider that two people are. If Whitney killed Derek, don't we have to assume he killed Regina, too? And if he killed Regina for some reason of his own, he'd hardly compound the crime by bumping off someone who criticized her."

“That's a bit baroque, but I think I see what you mean."

“Oh, I almost forgot the rest. About Regina's will. It was made a year or so ago. She left something to a couple charities, including the local public television station — which is the first thing I've heard about her that makes me really like her — and the rest, including the house she and Lisa shared, to Lisa."

“How much was her estate?" Shelley asked.

“Mel said about two hundred thousand dollars, plus the house, whatever that's worth. Or more likely the equity in the house."

“Did she own it herself or did she leave Lisa her joint share?"

“I didn't think to ask."

“Two hundred thousand," Shelley mused. "A nice amount of money. Even once the taxes are paid on it. But not enough to kill your bestfriend for, especially when you have a good job yourself."

“Money's a good motive, though," Jane said doubtfully. "And Regina would probably have done a new will after she married. What kind of house did they live in?"

“I don't know, but I had the impression they lived quite close to the museum, and there aren't any outstandingly valuable properties in that neighborhood that I know of."

“I have the feeling we're looking at this all wrong," Jane said, selecting a silver bowl with very simple, easily cleanable lines. "As if we're asking the wrong questions of ourselves."

“What do you mean?"

“Well, we're asking who could have heard what. Who could have been where? But maybe the question is simple: who's better off now than before Regina and Derek died?"

“So who is?"

“Maybe it really does have to do with the directorship in one way or another," Jane said. "Somebody's going to have a new job as director — although I doubt that's a consideration unless some unknown job applicant decided to lurk around, explore the entire museum, and create a position by killing off people. The other possibility — and this one is real — is that there's something only the director and the assistant director knew that was highly dangerous to someone."