Fete Worse Than Death (9781101595138) (9 page)

“Althea Quince.” She gave him a measuring glance. “I saw you on television last night.”

His face lighted up. “Not bad, was it? I thought the coverage was a little light, myself, but Carol Ann thinks we can get the media down from Rochester at the next meeting. Too much to hope for national coverage, but there you are.”

Elmer made a noise like a garbage disposal with a fork in it.

“Yes, well,” Brady said hastily. “If you saw the news last night, Mayor, did you hear me say one word against your good wife? Or one word in support of those citizens
who asked me to offer the space in my showroom for their meeting?”

“Are you telling us you didn’t know the nature of the protest last night?” Dookie asked. His mild, inquiring gaze was steady.

Brady’s eyes were flat brown. He widened them innocently. Then, since it was hard for anyone to lie to Dookie Shuttleworth, he said, “I had an inkling. No more. But as a neutral party, how could I say no to some concerned citizens who just asked for enough space to hold their meeting?”

You could say no to Hitler, Quill thought. Or Pol Pot. Not that Carol Ann’s in the same category, but she’s pretty darn close.

Dookie’s gaze hadn’t faltered, and Brady rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “Besides, Carol Ann’s been looking to buy an Escalade and when she called me up and said the TV people were headed this way…I guess maybe I made a mistake. I guess I’m sorry, Mayor, about the things they said about Mrs. Mayor.”

Dookie nodded to himself, sat back, and folded his hands in his lap.

Brady edged around the table and sat down. “I know you folks aren’t exactly glad to see me, but I was hoping you’d give me a chance to say my piece.”

“If you think you got a place on this steering committee, you got another think coming,” Elmer said.

“Now, Mayor, let’s not be too hasty about this. I can bring a lot to this committee. You may be aware that there are several factions in town that haven’t been happy with the way the fete has been run so far. I’m offering myself
as a neutral party. We’ve all got a stake in the fete’s success and I’m in a pretty good position to listen to both sides in a fair and honest way.”

Elmer looked at Quill. “He’s in, I’m out.”

Althea and Dookie looked at her, too.

“You’re chair,” Althea finally said, with the air of urging a reluctant puppy outdoors. “We’re leaving the decision up to you.”

“Hm,” Quill said, in a decisive way.

“It’s not that I could even think of taking Adela’s place. We all know how much she contributed to the success of this event. And I’ll tell you right up front, I’ve given up this idea of moving the fete away from Hemlock Falls. It’d be like taking it away from Adela herself, and everyone in town knows how much we owe her. She is,” Brady said, with passionate sincerity, “one of the best things that’s ever happened to this town. You’re a fortunate man in your marriage, Mayor.”

Elmer’s eyes filled. He sniffed.

“Now, no one can ever fill her shoes the way they should be filled, but I’d like to offer my services. In my own small way, I want to help. I’m willing to take on the hours and hours of responsibility until Adela is cleared and can join us once again.”

Quill looked at Elmer’s miserable face. She thought of the hours and hours (and hours) of responsibility involved in getting the fete up to speed. “I’m sorry, Brady”—and no one but Myles knew just how sorry she was—“but I think that any changes to the committee right now might be misunderstood.”

Brady’s smile vanished. For a moment, he looked mean.
“You’re kidding me. How the hell are you going to manage it? No offense, Quill, but your administrative skills aren’t exactly world-class. Everybody’s got a lot of money tied up in this thing. You sure you’re up to it?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I don’t, and neither do a lot of concerned citizens. We were pretty sure you guys were going to turn us down…”

“Who’s we?” Quill asked.

“Concerned citizens,” Brady repeated impatiently. “So I’ve been authorized to request that the committee hire a professional to take over.”

Althea raised her eyebrows. “A professional?”

“An event organizer.”

~

“Yep,” Brady said briskly. “You need an event organizer. Best thing you could do. Bring a professional in.”

Elmer mopped his eyes with a not-very-clean handkerchief, blew his nose and said, “What?”

“We even have a couple of suggestions.” Brady dug into his sports coat pocket and produced a slip of paper. “Event organizers. Three of them. Take your pick.”

Elmer looked around the office with a bewildered expression as if expecting to find an event organizer under Quill’s chrysanthemum-patterned couch.

Althea reached over and took the paper. “One’s in Buffalo, one’s in Rochester, and one’s in Syracuse. Which is closer, Quill?”

“Syracuse.”

“You have a Syracuse phone book here? Or better yet, let’s try your laptop.”

Quill rose, went to her desk, and sat down. “I’ll do an Internet search. If we can find somebody to step in, that’d be terrific.”

Althea nudged Dookie. “A miracle, eh, Reverend?”

Elmer cleared his throat and smoothed the lapels of his seersucker jacket. “Those organizers cost a bundle, you know. We had one of them when the chicken people were here for the Fry Away Home contest. Took a percentage of the gate. Trouble is…” His nose reddened and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Paying for it might be a problem.”

“There is no way Adela stole that money,” Quill said. “Besides, a percentage of the gate means tickets, right? We always get a ton of walk-ins. If not, maybe we can pay this person from village funds, somehow.” She tapped fruitlessly at her keyboard. “I’m not getting much action here.”

Althea adjusted a pair of reading glasses onto her nose, then got up and made shooing motions. She had ornate rings on all ten fingers. “I’ll handle it. I’m not bad at computers for a little old lady. You’re talking to someone who shipped three hundred tons of yak’s milk from Tibet through Marrakesh to Chicago all online. You all go see about breakfast. I’m starving, and the mayor here is going to be all the better for some calories. Right, Mayor? I’ll work the computer and come up with a list of names, and then you can decide.” She looked over her spectacles at Brady. “Not a bad suggestion, Mr. Beale.”

“You’re going to do it, then?” Brady said. “Spend all
that money for an out-of-towner to come in? I work for free, you know.”

“I think it’s probably best,” Dookie said. “Perhaps next year, Brady, when we are creating the membership for the steering committee, you would consent to join us.”

“Whatever.” Brady got up. “I’ll say good-bye then. Good to see you all,” he added heartily. “If you’re in the market for a car, you know where to find me.”

Althea waited until the door closed behind him and winked at Quill. “I’ll bet you’re feeling a little better now, my dear.”

“To be honest, I feel like a ten-ton weight’s been lifted off my back.” Quill smiled at them. “Althea’s right about breakfast, Elmer. Let me go check on how it’s coming along. I’ll be right back.”

Thankfully, Quill escaped to the kitchen, where she found her sister flattening veal with a large mallet.

“Hey, Quill.”

“Hey, yourself.” Quill resisted the temptation to sit in the rocker. If she sat down, she wouldn’t want to get up for anyone except her son. “Guess what?”

“You decided to commit seppuku rather than chair the fete committee.”

“They’re hiring an event coordinator!”

Meg’s face lighted up. “No! Hey!” She held her hand up and Quill slapped it gleefully. “You’re saved, by God. I am like, totally psyched on your behalf.”

“I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before. It’ll be expensive.”

“It’ll be worth it. Besides, odds are good Adela will be back in harness soon, right?”

“As soon as I can find out who took the money.”

Meg looked at her. “You’re back in the detecting saddle again? How does Myles feel about that?”

Quill changed the subject. “I put an order in for four Eggs Quilliam in my office. I’ve come to see when it’ll be ready.”

“No, you didn’t. You came to escape your fete. Get it? Fate. Fete.”

“I got it.”

“Of course your breakfast is on the way.” Meg turned and shouted over her shoulder: “Elizabeth! How’s Quill’s order coming along?”

Elizabeth Chou didn’t raise her head as she deftly sliced cantaloupe. “Another three minutes.”

“Told ya.” Meg whacked the veal even flatter. “Bet you wish it was thirty.”

“I wish it was three years. Honestly, Meg, this is just a mess. What the heck could have happened to that money? And how did Carol Ann know anything about it?”

“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was just being Carol Ann–ish, which is to say, she’s a big-time troublemaker and lucked into the fact that the money’s gone. Now she can dress up in jackboots and march around town calling for justice. It’s a stunt, that’s all it is.”

“Maybe,” Quill said dubiously. “And maybe she had something to do with it.”

Meg shuddered. “If you’re thinking about investigating Carol Ann, you can do it all by your lonesome. That woman’s a walking
Titanic
.”

“That makes no sense as a metaphor.”

“Sure it does. She’s a disaster waiting to happen to other people. Which doesn’t include me.”

Quill bent sideways and looked under the prep table. Meg wore clogs in the kitchen, and with the clogs, summer and winter, she wore socks. The color of the socks was a good indicator of her mood. Today’s were a contentious green. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking of Carol Ann so much as Althea Quince.”

Meg put down the mallet, her attention finally caught. “Really?”

“The committee members are all signatory on the fete account. Surely you don’t suspect Dookie. Or me. Or the mayor.”

“And Althea’s the only outsider? Very parochial. Not like you at all, Sis.”

“Myles had that reaction, too. Honestly, though. I know I didn’t do it, I can’t believe our minister would do it, and Elmer wouldn’t have the nerve.”

“Yeah, but how would Althea access the funds? Adela holds on to that checkbook like it was her firstborn son. Speaking of which, how’s my nephew this morning?”

Quill didn’t answer that for a minute. There were shadows under Meg’s eyes, and her little sister looked cross. It was clear that Meg didn’t want to know much more about the problems with the fete. If there was something bugging her (and it was probably Justin, since the men in her sister’s life didn’t last long), Meg would tell her eventually. In the meantime, long years of experience with her sister told Quill it was time to back off. “Doreen’s taking him to a playdate with Lily Peterson.” Quill took a deep breath. “I should be on that playdate. I’m missing my son’s childhood, Meg. Do you realize that?”

“You spend two hours every morning and three hours every night with him. Anyone who wants to spend more time than that with a five-year-old is insane.”

Quill gritted her teeth. “Let’s not get into it this morning, okay? I’ve got enough on my plate.”

“You have Eggs Quilliam on your plate, or very nearly. Elizabeth!”

“Right here!” Elizabeth put two of the plates in Quill’s hands and grabbed the other two. “C’mon, Quill. Eggs are lethal when they’re cold.”

~

Back in the office, Elmer was looking marginally better and Althea was beaming. Dookie sat comfortably on the couch, making notes in a journal in an abstracted way. Elizabeth cleared the conference table, whipped napkins and cutlery out of her apron pocket, and arranged the plates. After accepting Althea’s generous praise for the presentation, she gave Quill an impish salute and left.

Elmer was the first to seat himself. He tucked his napkin into his collar, grabbed his fork, and said, “I do believe I found someone to take over the fete. She’s coming in this morning for an interview.”

“That’s wonderful, Elmer.” Quill touched Dookie gently on the shoulder to get his attention and shepherded him to the table. “Who is it?”

“Name’s Linda Connelly. Runs an outfit called Presentations. I like the title, don’t you? No fuss, no muss. Very professional. She’ll be here at eleven. Said it wouldn’t take more than an hour to get here from Syracuse.”

“Her website was pretty impressive,” Althea said. “She was laid off from Xerox about ten years ago and went into event planning.”

“Done a lot of big dos,” Elmer spoke between rapid and appreciative bites of egg and cheese. “Got a lot of references. Best of all, she’s free.”

“No charge?” Quill said.

“I mean that her schedule’s free. She had some big wedding on for two weeks from now and the groom upped and went off with the best man.”

“Oh, dear.”

“So the folks had to cancel the wedding.”

“I should think so.”

“Lucky for us.”

“Maybe not so lucky for the bride.” Quill hesitated. “Do you want me to sit in on the interview?”

Elmer waved his fork. “No, no need. I can take care of it. I’ll get Adela to sit…” He stopped. His face crumpled. He choked, and for an awful moment, Quill thought the eggs were going to come back up.

“Take a couple of deep breaths,” Althea said kindly. She whacked him several times on the back.

Elmer took a couple of deep breaths. Then he folded his napkin and set it next to his plate with a decisive air. “There’s one more thing I want to do this morning. I want to hire you.”

“You want to hire me?” Quill had a number of immediate suspicions about what he wanted to hire her for, and she didn’t like any of them. “For what?”

“You got to find out what’s happened to this money.
You’ve been a pretty good detective over the years.” He turned to Althea. “You wouldn’t believe how many corpses this gal has under her belt.”

Althea’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“You betcha. Now, Kiddermeister hasn’t done a half-bad job as sheriff, although he’s not a patch on the Sheriff, of course, who never did take much to Quill’s investigating so it’s probably just as well he’s in Kuwait or wherever he is. Otherwise Quill might have to stick to bein’ a wife.”

Althea rubbed her forehead. “What, what?” Then, rather pathetically, “This conversation makes no sense to me. None. I think my mind is going. My husband will be devastated.”