5

 

Mom sniffed the air before proceeding cautiously into the chilly, tiled room. “The mayor, I presume?” Her voice echoed.

I already started to tear up. Donald did not deserve to be seen like this. I blinked. I sniffed. “Um, yes. Mom! Don’t go in there!”

She walked up to him. Donald was slumped unnaturally in one of the stalls, the door wide open. At least he was fully dressed. “Just checking. Why don’t you go tell the police, darling?”

“O-OK. Wha-what do you think happened? Is he…is he…?” I sniffed.

“I’m afraid so. There’s rigor, which means he hasn’t been gone all that long. But…judging by the way he’s angled, it’s as if his body has been put here…as though he was just set down…see? His hands aren’t natural. I don’t think he died here. Hmm…hard to tell. His neck is so swollen. I wonder…there are scratches on his hands and cheek.”

“Don’t touch anything! Maybe he’s contagious.”

“Of course not.”

I returned double-quick with Officer Unhelpful Ripple and his female cohort.

Dow introduced herself to Mom, who was standing guard at the closed restroom door. The officers nodded, and then walked inside. Dow reappeared and called for an ambulance, although everyone realized it could just as easily have been a hearse.

We were back in Ripple’s office giving statements, again. I think I was in shock, for I didn’t remember how I got there or what I said. I sniffled, stated what I had seen, then sniffled again.

Mom took my hand while she spoke. “Officer, I’d like to take my daughter home, now. She’s upset.”

“Of course,” Ripple told Mom, as though he were granting her a great favor. “I’ll be in touch.”

When we go to the front door, we had to stand aside for Yolanda Toynsbee. The Gazette’s owner was a little late. At least she didn’t seem to realize we were the ones to find the body.

“I’d rather go for a cup of coffee,” I told Mom.

She looked critically at me. Brushing back my hair with a comforting hand, she agreed.

Mea Cuppa, Adam’s store, was down the block so we walked, leaving my car in the municipal lot.

The weather was pleasantly warm, peaceful. Summer would official start in a couple of weeks, unless people went by the school year and knew it started the second the last bell rang. Leaves had unfurled, and the grass greened up nicely. Why was everything so alive when poor Donald was not?

In the shop three customers were absorbed by books while two older ladies sat at one of the tables enjoying a chat and coffee. Most of the regulars at Tiny’s Buffet, kitty corner from Adam, already had their daily dose of gossip and cholesterol and weren’t quite ready yet for a fancy cappuccino or book browsing.

Adam and a young lady I didn’t recognize were behind the cash register. Adam smiled, then sobered when he saw my face.

Mom took her time checking out the store and, surreptitiously, its owner.

We made our way over.

He closed the cash register. “Hello, Ivy. And you must be Mrs. Preston. How do you do? I’m Adam Thompson. This is Colleen Bailey, my new assistant. Her mother is—”

“We met your mother earlier when she took care of Memnet. The vet, right?” I asked.

Colleen wasn’t quite the stunner her mother was. She was more down-to-earth looking, tall, but with a heavier structure than the doctor.

Colleen gave a shy smile, showing crooked front teeth. “Mother mentioned she knew another Mau that was different from Tut. And, did you know—Mr. Thompson, here, has one, too! Isn’t that just insane?”

I blinked.

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a breath and said, “Colleen is working for me Monday and Wednesday afternoons after swim practice and Saturday mornings when she doesn’t have a meet. She’s a junior at Memorial High School, and, obviously, loves cats.”

I pressed her limp hand.

“Geneva Preston,” my mother said. “Ivy’s mother, come to visit for a few days.”

“Adam…” was all I got out before the tears started again.

Bless my mother, who began to chat with Colleen. “I’d like a latte.” She drew Colleen away from Adam and me. “Can you show me how it works?”

“Is that OK with you, Mr. Thompson?” Colleen strode confidently to the machine, set in a corner away from the cash register.

“Sure.” Adam touched my shoulder and peered into my face. He led me to his office and closed the door. “What happened?” he asked.

I sat with him on a black leather sofa set against the exposed brick wall. “Someone broke in again a few hours ago and this time managed to steal some of my equipment and tried to hurt Mem.” At his steady expression of concern, my tears streamed in earnest. “He’s fine. Dr. Bailey checked him over. Then, Mom wanted to see Donald’s office after our report to Officer Ri-Ripple. We went up there and we—we found—we saw Donald—de-dead!” I hardly noticed how nice his arms felt around me as I bawled into his shoulder. After I managed to gain control, I took his big white handkerchief, but stayed pressed against him. I hoped he didn’t mind, but I was afraid that if I moved away, everything else in my life that I thought was solid would turn out to be vapor.

I felt his breath in my hair. “That must have been awful for you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I sat up and wiped my eyes. “We don’t know. Mom said his neck appeared swollen and he had some sores on his hands and face.”

“Where did you find him?”

Him—not his body. What a nice man Adam was. “Um, in the men’s room near his office.”

He never asked what we were doing in the men’s room. So very nice.

“The police?”

“Said they’d be in touch.”

“I wonder why…who…how he got there.”

I shivered. “Mom thought he hadn’t been gone that long, but what if he’d been there all week? And no one knew? We just kept passing by, all the while…”

“Maintenance would have said something, Ivy.”

Of course. “What’ll happen now?”

He got up and walked to his desk, shaking his head. “The one thing we don’t want to do is let Donald down, right? We carry on with his dream to bring Apple Grove back to life.”

I got up, too, determined to do my part. “And make sure no one gets away with murder in this town.”

Adam’s eyes widened at my statement, but my indignation fueled my renewed obligation to make sure Donald’s plans for Apple Grove went as he desired. I opened the office door and walked out to find Mom. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. Not much I could do about red eyes.

Adam followed and touched my arm. We stood in each other’s warmth, side by side, looking out over his store and acting nonchalant. At least, I tried to. “I’m glad your mother is with you right now.”

“Yes. Speaking of whom, can you make it tomorrow evening to eat with us? We’re cooking.” The last part came out like some kind of special announcement. When Adam and I had our previous rendezvous of casual dinners, we met in public, or had a pizza delivered while we worked putting up shelves and stocking them with books and magazines. He probably didn’t even realize I could cook.

“That would be nice,” he said.

“See you at 6:30? You close by 6:00, right?”

“Right. And with clean up and tallying, that should work fine. Can I bring something?”

“Not this time,” I replied, and walked away before I could read his expression, afraid of what it might reveal. We had a lot to talk about. Maybe the police would know something by then, too.

I met my mother halfway to the register, walking with Colleen, whom she had engaged in a conversation about college. And pretty nearly talked into attending Maplewood Community College, where she taught, by the one-sided gist I overheard.

Colleen nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll just talk to your mother some more about it before I head back, how’s that?”

Colleen nodded harder, like one of those bobble-head dolls.

“Here we are, Mr. Thompson,” Mom plunked her paperback on the counter.

“Call me Adam,” he said, while he rang up her order.

“Thank you. And I believe we’ll see you soon?”

He inclined his head. “Yes. Ivy invited me for tomorrow.”

Colleen watched this whole proceeding, obviously fascinated with the adult nuances.

I pursed my mouth and hurried my mother out of the shop before she gave the rumor mill any more feed.

“What’s your hurry?” Mom disliked being hustled.

“I just don’t like being gossip fodder.”

“There was no one left in there.”

“Except for Miss Bailey, who grew up here, and who probably knows everyone in town, and can’t wait to tell her mother, who will then tell all of her clients.”

“Oh, Ivy. What did he say when you told him about the mayor?”

“Mostly that we need to do all we can to make sure Donald’s dream of making Apple Grove a better place to live comes true.” I narrowed my sore, weepy eyes. “And make sure that if someone hurt Donald he or she pays.” Time to change the subject. “So, what shall we cook for tomorrow?”

Between menu planning, shopping, and calling the insurance company, our day was full. I tried not to dwell on poor Donald, but naturally it was hard not to. What had he been doing in the bathroom anyway, when he was supposed to be out of town? And how did he die? I hoped the police would have the courtesy to tell us. After all, we found him.

Life went on. At least, ours did. Mom disappeared for a little while the next afternoon while I got caught up on some calls. When she returned I didn’t think to ask where she’d been as we were busy getting ready for supper. I spruced up the place a bit while she set the table. I hoped Adam would like my simple meal of country ham and, to go with it, a green salad and cantaloupe.

He arrived promptly as the clock chimed the half hour.

We went through all the cordial formalities of greeting and finding out how we all were. We were fine, and all had a nice day. Whew. I guessed we weren’t ready to bring up the other subject yet, which was fine with me.

After dinner Mom managed to turn the conversation toward a full-blown investigation, conspiracy theories and all. She jumped right in with the business of the mayor’s death. “Ivy told me about the case. What can you tell me about Donald?”

Adam set his napkin by his empty plate and picked up a china cup, cradling it in his hands. He sipped and stared at the bay candles amongst daisies I arranged as a centerpiece. I could not tell if he mulled or stalled. He seemed to make up his mind when he leaned his elbows on the table to speak to us.

“The Donald Conklin I knew was passionate about this community, and he cared deeply what would happen in Apple Grove unless there was revitalization.” Adam put the cup down and favored my mother with a calculating expression. “I’m a businessman, and so is the mayor. As a businessman, I am somewhat cautious. I don’t know what he told Ivy to encourage her to pick up everything to move to Apple Grove. Donald told me about the tax grants straight up, and the funding he was able to secure, which was geared toward small town development. It’s a sizeable sum of money. Donald, as the grant fund distributor, also unusual in a community with an active town council, had the biggest input as to how the funds would be distributed.”

Mom nodded from time to time, absorbing Adam’s statements.

I understood about the tax grants, of course, but hadn’t made it my business to find out how they affected anyone but me. I was impressed. And chagrined.

Mom cut to the chase. “I think I understand you to say that if someone were to control the mayor’s office they would also be able to control a hefty sum of money? And this sum of money is tied up in bonds, I assume, and directed at particular aspects of building and development.”

“No. Donald showed me one of the grants. It’s a straight-out sum of five million dollars paid to the municipality of Apple Grove, cosigned by the mayor, to be used for advertising and attracting new business to settle inside the city limits of Apple Grove. There are two other similar grants, used for different aspects of attracting business and building housing for the needed work force. A smaller grant, which is a bond, is strictly for additional water and sewer upgrades, to be finished within five years.”

“How much does it add up to?” I asked.

“A total of twelve million dollars,” Adam said.

“Men have been killed for considerably less,” Mom commented. “Who else knows about this?”

Adam studied a spoon, turning it this way and that. “I got the feeling Donald didn’t have a lot of…trust in people around here. In fact, he mentioned there was opposition to his plan from the council itself. But he was determined to help Apple Grove. And I believe, as a businessman, that his plan was sound. He wasn’t rushing headlong into things and had researched the companies and people he wanted to introduce.” Adam smiled at me and my lips automatically responded.

Mom cleared her throat.

I shook my head. “How much do you think Margaret knows?”

“That’s Mrs. Conklin?” Mom asked.

“Bader-Conklin. Margaret comes from old money,” he said. “I hear a lot of things in the shop.”

“Maybe she wants more,” I muttered. I told her our impressions and also about Margaret’s assistant acting as guard dog the day I went to check on him.

Adam told about our visit to the Conklin house.

I mentioned the news article about MeriFood, the rival of the company Donald had invited to move to Apple Grove. “And Tut,” I said. “Don’t forget about him. If Donald had him, then where is he now?”

Mom said, “Spoken like a true cat fancier. I work best on paper. Let’s make a chart.”

I got the large pad of drawing paper I move from place to place, thinking that someday I might actually learn to sketch. Now that I had a garret…

Mem leapt onto my lap, so I could stroke him. I was glad he felt better, but he didn’t leave my room at night.

Mom and Adam filled a page with boxes and arrows and time references.

Mom glanced at me at one point. “What do you think?”

I inadvertently peeked up the staircase where my system used to be. There were gouges in the drywall and chips in the wood trim where the thief hadn’t been careful with my equipment. I heaved a sigh and went to check out their drawing. They’d made a note of the two attacks on my house.

“Busybody.” I wrinkled my nose at Mom. “They’re calling me a busybody? Thanks.”

“Why would anyone attack you twice?” she asked. “What would they have to gain? Was there anything strange about the messages you took for the mayor’s office?”

I stared at the box labeled “Chicago.” Something stirred. “You wrote this because…?”

“I overheard Margaret’s assistant talking about going there, remember?”

“Yes…” I wrinkled my brow.

“What is it?” Mom asked.

“I had a strange call a couple of nights before you got here. A lot of static. I couldn’t hear anything, really. Then a hang-up. But the caller ID said Summersby Building, Chicago.”

Adam tapped the pen. “Right. You told me about that and that you had notified the police.”

Mom asked, “You did? Who did you talk to? What did they say?”

“Ripple. And he said he’d do me a favor and consider it a crank call.”

“Hmm.” Mom studied the chart again. “Adam, write ‘Summersby Building.’ We’ll do a search and see what comes up. You didn’t recognize the voice?”

Had I? “It might have been a man...but I couldn’t be sure. I can’t replay it for you since my...”

They both hmm’d again, absorbed in their task.

The phone rang. Mem sprang down as I stood and reached for it.

“Yeah, swell,” Marion Green replied to my standard query. “My boss just died and I’m heartbroken. But other than that…I’m mad as a pressure cooker with a leaky gasket. We’re gonna get ’em, Ivy, I promise. No one’s gonna get by with murder in my town.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t even pause for a breath. “Listen, you know how Mrs. Conklin has her own office and assistant at city hall? Like she’s co-mayor, or something? I’ve been in her office, as a favor to the mayor, upon occasion.”

“Sure, Marion.”

“All these years. I can’t believe I never studied it closer. Maybe I thought it was fake. Maybe I just didn’t care.”

“Care about what, Marion?”

Mom and Adam stopped their plotting to stare at me.

“You know how people sometimes put their diplomas and certificates in frames on the walls of their offices?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Mrs. Mayor has one. Fancy wood frame. I just never really read it.”

“OK.”

“So today I did take a good look at it. What do you think her degree is in?”

“Political intrigue?” I guessed, not a huge fan of word games.

“No. Pharmacology.”

“You’re kidding! Wow. Mrs. Conklin has a diploma on her office wall that says she has a degree in pharmacology? The study of the effect of drugs and chemicals on living beings?” I recapitulated for Mom and Adam.

They both came close to the phone, as if they could take part in the conversation. Neither of them needed me to define pharmacology. Mom, as a criminology teacher, understood the implications, and Adam, I assumed, was well educated, or at least well read.

“What do you think about that?” Marion asked.

“Oh! Um, what do I think about that?” I repeated, stalling for time while Mom made frantic slice-across-the-neck motions at me. “I guess I have to revise my opinion about good old Mrs. Conklin.”

Mom’s narrowed eyes and folded arms gave me the feeling she was putting together a plan.

“So, what do you think about it, Marion?” I asked her, ignoring Mom.

“I never thought of her as anything but Mrs. Mayor, you know, giving parties and welcoming important people and going on trips. Of course, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to her earlier life, like whether she had a job or not, when I was growing up.”

“You mean that you don’t believe she worked in her field?” I asked her. This could lead somewhere.

Mom stopped her “cut” signal.

“I’m saying that I just don’t know what she did,” Marion said, reluctance in her voice.

“You don’t know for sure whether or not she was some kind of druggist, or researcher, or held some kind of job like that,” I relayed for my listeners.

Adam stroked his chin. Memnet placed a paw on his leg, begging to be picked up. Adam reached for him.

I turned away and took deep breaths at the sight of someone else, a handsome, eligible male in my house, caring for my cat. So long, any vestigial memories of my erstwhile fiancé, Stanley, who had avoided Mem.

“I could ask around,” Marion said in the meantime.

I forced my daydreams back into the recesses of my brain, so I could pay attention to the current crisis. “I’m not sure that would be the best approach at this point, Marion.” I shook my head when Mom grabbed my elbow, mouthing ‘what?’ at me. “She just lost her husband. She’s got to be pretty upset.”

“And that’s another thing. No one knows where she is.”

“You’re kidding. She and her assistant were planning a trip to Chicago.”

“She’s not at the hotel she booked. You didn’t hear this from me, of course. But what about Memnet? Your cat? Wasn’t he drugged?”

“Yes, Memnet was drugged.” I changed the subject back to Margaret. “What do you mean, no one knows where Margaret is? How would she find out about Donald?”

Marion met my lob and volleyed back. “She’s no longer registered at the hotel, and isn’t answering her private cell, which has been terminated. Don’t you think drugging Memnet took some expertise? Like from a pharmacist?”

Marion was persistent. I got the sense she wasn’t too keen on having Mrs. Mayor around, even if the woman had just lost her husband and deserved to be informed.

My thoughts bounced as much as Marion’s back to Memnet. A vet would certainly have that information, too. Now I wanted to hang up, so Mom and Adam and I could talk about this. “Thank you, Marion. Can I think about this for a while and call you back? Say, tomorrow morning? Good. It has to be morning because you have to take minutes at the council meeting tomorrow night. They didn’t cancel despite Donald’s death. Sure. Fine. And, thanks for telling me this. I know. You won’t say anything except to Bob for now. Yes, fine. Talk to you tomorrow.” Another thought occurred to me. “Oh, wait! Marion? Do you know anything about Summersby Building?”

“Never heard of them. Why don’t you search for it on the internet? Or, try the online business directory.”

“Thanks, Marion.” I hung up and turned back to the sight of Adam and Memnet, envious of the attention my pet received.

Adam held Mem in one arm while he went back to the chart. He bent over the table, adding a note in another box, which he placed between columns headed “businesses being courted by Donald” and “criminal activity.” “Margaret. Pharmacology,” he wrote.

Mem’s tail twitched back and forth, lazily. He was king, receiving his due attention, and he knew it.

I just wished I wasn’t jealous. “Margaret hates cats,” I said, with some acidity. A memory reasserted itself. “Adam? Do you remember when we went to the Conklins’ house? There was a work van parked by Tut’s house.”

“Yes, I recall. Dark-colored. I didn’t catch the advertising.”

“Me, either, something about ‘peace of mind’ or at least, that’s what I assumed. I couldn’t actually read all the words.”

Adam wrote “van” and “peace of mind” on the page.

Mom turned to a clean page and began listing our speculations.

We sat at the table and commented out loud about motives and suspects.

Mem jumped to the floor and went exploring.

When Mom finished writing, we sat back to review our work.

“Donald wanted to revitalize Apple Grove,” Adam stated. “He managed to get twelve million dollars to do it.”

“But he needed both people and businesses to make it work,” I said.

“Some of the townspeople are against the revitalization,” Mom said. “Going back through the papers, we know that the city council president, Rupert Murphy, and the city engineer, Georgine Crosby, are opposed.”

“In public opinion, at least. I think we can say the newspaper is neutral at this point,” I said.

“Marion has access to the grant money?” Mom asked.

“She indicated that she was preparing payments the other day, didn’t she, Ivy?” Adam asked.

“It sounded as if she just typed checks for the mayor to sign.”

“Hmmm,” Mom mused. “All right. How concerned are you about this business plan?”

“I had my lawyer go over it and the plan appeared sound. I had no reason to believe the contract wouldn’t be honored.”

“Then the mayor reports,” Mom said, “that a pet food company and a bioengineering company have indicated interest in locating in or near Apple Grove. Ivy discovers evidence that the mayor’s wife is dealing with an unrelated pet food company. The mayor’s secretary indicated she felt something odd was going on at the office.” Mom glanced up at me. “What has she said to you?”

“Donald left the office without giving his usual instructions and she worried about how his absence would affect the Feli-Mix deal.”

Mom nodded. “Going on, then: Ivy—no. Ivy’s business was robbed. Would a thief believe you have vital information relating to the funds in your computer system?” Mom asked.

Adam raised an eyebrow in my direction.

I snorted. “I don’t know why. Except that I downloaded a few messages for the mayor while the website was under redesign. Mostly just neighbor complaints, and the like. One cancelation of an appointment, lots of vendor calls.”

Mom capped the marker with a snap. “OK. That will give us a good start. By the way, darling, can you find places for three students for, say, a week? Near the end of the month?”

“What?” I asked.

“I usually have them do their twenty hours of field work after the classroom time is complete, but this is an emergency. They only have two of the required trimesters finished. I’ll have three of my advanced students come to help you out. I’ve already arranged it with the police department—”

“Aha! So that’s where you disappeared to the other day.”

“—who graciously agreed to allow job shadowing. We won’t mention that they’re really here to investigate all the sinister implications.”

“Mother! That sounds like the title to some ludicrous mystery novel.”

She patted my hand. “So, I assume at least one or two of them could stay with you.”

“I have an extra room, too, for a male student.” Adam added. His forehead wrinkled. He stood with his arms folded, as if undecided about the whole thing.

“Thank you,” Mom said. “In the meantime, perhaps the next best step would be to find out what the city council is aware of. Didn’t Marion say a meeting was scheduled tomorrow?”

“What about her offer to ask about Margaret’s prior work history?” Adam asked.

Mom twiddled her pen. “Openly questioning people might damage our accountability. Or interfere with the police.”

Now she doesn’t want to interfere with the police?

“Let’s make up an excuse to attend the council meeting,” Mom said.

“We’re citizens. We don’t need an excuse,” I said. “Besides it’ll probably be so crowded with the news and all. Everyone will want to be there.”

Adam laughed, humor apparently restored. “That’s the only reason people will go. You know how many citizens attend these meetings just because it’s our ‘constitutional right’? OK. None.” He had a point. “I have a legitimate concern about what will happen to my business if I can’t count on public safety, especially after the mayor’s suspicious death. If I can get on the agenda.”

“You certainly don’t want to antagonize anyone,” Mom said. “They’ll need to call a special meeting sometime later to discuss the mayoral situation.”

Adam nodded. “Yes. It’ll still be a madhouse, though. I think I can easily get away with asking, as a new business owner, about the future upgrades to the water and sewer systems, and if the fees are going up any time soon.”

“That sounds perfect,” Mom replied. “We could get a feel for the engineer’s responses at the same time.”

“So, then,” I said, eager to change the subject to a more sociable one. “How about some coffee?”

We retired to my living room with the cocoa brown leather sofa and two tan leather wing chairs I had splurged on when I moved to Apple Grove. The old set from my grandparents had done its duty. I always wanted a room with quiet, moss-green walls and an oak chair rail. I ignored the line of spackled nail holes just under the railing on the short wall where I had measured wrong. Besides, if I didn’t point it out, no one would know it was there.

Mom and Adam and I talked about the state of the federal government and gas prices and the weather.

When he was ready to leave, I walked him out to his car.

He leaned against the driver’s side door, key in hand. “Thank you, Ivy, for tonight. I enjoyed talking to your mother, even if the conversation could have been about a more pleasant subject. She’s certainly methodical. You’re all right with her plan?”

I was touched. Stanley would not have strung so many words together at one time. I took a step toward Adam. “Yes. It seems harmless. Adam—do you think you’ll stay here, now that Donald is gone?”

Adam thrust the keys in his pocket and reached for my shoulders. I stepped willingly into his embrace. It felt like home. “Donald wasn’t the main reason I came.”

“I am glad he introduced us,” I said into his collar. Adam gave me a little squeeze and let go. It felt like a promise, not a brush off.

“So am I.” His smile lingered. “In a way that makes me feel responsible for you and your safety. Hopefully we’ll get some insight into who understood what Donald was trying to do here—who had his back and who had it in for him.” He let me go and opened the car door. “I’ll pick you up at quarter to seven tomorrow night.”