Authors: Todd Ritter
Burt’s real job was owner of a lawn-mower dealership on the outskirts of town. But his passion was politics. Mayor Hammond lived for shaking hands, kissing babies, and presiding over town council meetings. He also liked to boss people around, Kat included. Standing alone at center court, he barked orders to two soccer moms balancing on ladders while trying to hang a banner across the far wall.
“It’s still crooked,” Burt said. “A little to the left.”
One of the soccer moms—nervous atop the ladder—made an adjustment.
“More, please.”
Another adjustment, another shaky move by one of the moms.
“There,” Burt said. “That’s perfect. Thank you, ladies.”
With the banner hung and the members of the PTA Mafia descending their ladders with relief, Kat stepped onto the basketball court. Burt frowned when he saw her. His typical greeting.
“I’m assuming this is about Constance,” he said.
“It is.”
“I thought so. It’s a damn shame what happened. Losing the museum was hard enough. But losing someone like Constance, well, I’m not sure how we’re going to recover, quite honestly.”
Kat was surprised by Burt’s sincerity. They had butted heads over budget issues so many times that she honestly thought he didn’t have a sincere bone in his body. But just before she got too impressed, he added, “And the timing couldn’t be worse. I’ve spent a whole year trying to convince people that Perry Hollow is a great place to come visit. Now this happens.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Kat told him. “The state police are involved. A lot of people are working hard to find out who did this.”
“And you’re here to ask me a few questions, right?”
“We are,” Kat said, jumping right in. “How well did you know Constance? Were you two close?”
“We weren’t friends, but we were friendly. We agreed with each other on most historical society business.”
“Were you very involved with the historical society?”
The question came from Nick, who had slid next to the mayor before violating Tony’s first two rules.
Burt took a moment to size up Nick the same way he had examined the banner on the wall—with critical disdain. “And who might you be?”
“Nick Donnelly,” Kat said. “He’s assisting in the investigation.”
“I remember now,” the mayor said, eyes drifting to Nick’s cane. “You’re that state police detective who was fired for assaulting a hospital worker.”
“That’s me.” Nick kept a death grip on the handle of his cane, most likely to keep himself from beating Burt over the head with it. “Although the assault was justified.”
“About Constance and the historical society,” said Kat, eager to change the subject. “Were you an active member of the group? Emma Pulsifer said it was more ceremonial.”
“She would say that.” Burt sniffed. “Emma often enjoys belittling the contributions of others. I was as active a participant as everyone else.”
Over his shoulder, Kat saw one of the soccer moms waving to get their attention from the sidelines. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but you’re going to have to clear the court.”
The soccer mom was standing near the emergency exit, her hand hovering in front of a fat, red button stuck to the wall. When she pressed the button, the gym floor began to hum beneath their feet. Kat and the mayor hurried to the sidelines, knowing what was coming next. Nick, blithely unaware, remained at center court.
“You better hurry,” Kat told him. “Unless you want to get wet.”
Nick remained in place a moment, confusion scrunching his face. Then the floor opened up at center court, forming a crack that ran the width of the gym floor. Nick yelped as he limped to Kat’s side, never taking his eyes off the widening fissure. When it had opened a couple of feet, he finally saw the crystal-blue water rippling directly beneath the gym floor.
“Is that a swimming pool?”
“It is,” Kat said. “Just like that scene in
It’s a Wonderful Life
.”
In the movie, Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed accidentally did the Charleston right into the pool when the gym floor above it retracted. Folks in Perry Hollow were more careful about it. Whenever the need arose to make the transition from floor to pool, everyone in the rec center knew it was coming. Usually, a lucky child was plucked from the pool or gym floor to make the switch. Kat remembered pressing that red button when she was a kid. She still got a vicarious thrill whenever James was given the honor.
Nick looked equally awed as he watched the gym floor slide away. “I didn’t know these things still existed.”
“They don’t, really,” Burt said. “This is the only one on the East Coast. Honestly, this place shouldn’t be in use anymore, but we have no choice. For years, we’ve been trying to come up with ways to fund a new rec center. But the budget gods are always against us.”
Kat kept her eyes on the receding basketball court. The pool beneath it had roughly the same dimensions. Fifty feet wide. Almost a hundred feet long. Because it was so old, there was no shallow end. It was eight feet deep the entire way. Not an ideal thing to have in the middle of a Halloween party.
“Why are you opening the pool now?”
“The floor’s been malfunctioning,” Burt said. “We’re testing it to make sure it doesn’t open up when there’s a bunch of kids on it. And if it does, we want to see how much time we have to clear them away.”
From what Kat could tell, time wasn’t on their side. Within a minute, the basketball court was gone, replaced by the shimmering surface of the pool. Just as soon as it was fully open, the floor started to close again. When the basketball court had finished sliding into place, it was time for another test and the floor split apart once more.
As the floor continued to open and close, Kat went down the same list of questions that were asked of Claude Dobson. She received the same answers. Yes, Burt suspected that Constance was busy working on something that she planned to reveal that night. No, he had no idea what it was. No, he had never heard the name Brad Ford. And just like Claude, he failed to mention any skeletons, literal or figurative, hidden within the museum.
“I’m assuming you knew the historical society was experiencing money trouble,” Kat said.
“I did,” Burt replied. “In fact, Constance stopped by my office last week to ask if there was room in the budget to give the museum more money.”
“And was there?”
“Of course not. The money just wasn’t there. She was upset with me, naturally. She said that as a member of the historical society, I should do more to help it. But my hands were tied. I’ve had to turn down lots of requests for more money. Just the other day, I had to say no to Dutch Jansen when he asked if funds were available to hire some of the volunteer firefighters on a full-time basis. He got mad at me, too.”
Kat could relate. She had been in more than a few budget fights with the mayor. After the Grim Reaper killings, she begged for more money to hire another officer. Burt had refused. It was still just her and Carl, and once again they had a murder on their hands.
“But I was told you agreed with Constance that the museum shouldn’t charge admission,” she said. “Didn’t you think that would help ease the money crunch even just a little bit?”
There was a row of benches that ran the length of the gymnasium. Normally the territory of prune-fingered swimmers and wannabe basketball stars, they were now home to boxes of Halloween decorations and a few stray pumpkins. Burt pushed some of them aside and took a seat.
“I understood that it would bring in some revenue, but not enough to make much of a difference,” he said. “Plus, I thought it would send the wrong message to out-of-towners. It would have been like inviting someone into your home and then charging them five bucks for your hospitality. As it is, we’re having a hard enough time attracting visitors.”
Perry Hollow had struggled mightily after the mill closed. It only started to come back after a few small businesses took a chance and set up shop. Now it was known for its quaint and quirky downtown, encouraging tourists to take a detour during their Sunday drives. Business wasn’t booming, but it was solid, which was enough for the people who lived there. Only now the tourists weren’t coming as frequently or staying as long. The Grim Reaper murders were to blame, although in the weeks that followed them, Perry Hollow had seen an uptick in visitors. Mayhem lured in people as surely as sugar drew flies. But that moment had passed quickly, replaced by a quiet that unsettled residents who remembered the darkest days after the mill closing.
“What this town needs is to take things to the next level,” Burt said. “Everyone knows it. It was all anyone was talking about last night.”
“During the Chamber of Commerce fund-raiser?” Kat asked.
Burt nodded, prompting Nick to chime in with “Is that where you were when the fire broke out?”
“It was.”
“Can someone else verify your presence?”
“Just ask anyone,” Burt said. “I made a point of greeting everyone there.”
Kat pictured the mayor working the room with an untouched drink in his hand. She was certain he patted everyone on the back and laughed too loudly at jokes that weren’t very funny before moving on to the next person. If that was socializing in Perry Hollow, she was all too happy to remain an outcast.
“Was anyone there acting suspiciously?” Nick asked.
Burt puckered his lips as he pondered the question. “Suspicious? Not that I can recall. There were some people who had had a few too many, but that’s normal at a function like that.”
“Anyone in particular?” Kat said.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t be sharing this.” Burt had lowered his voice and was now glancing around the gymnasium to see if he’d be overheard. “But there was a firefighter who was hitting the open bar pretty hard. His name is Danny.”
“Danny Batallas?”
“Yes, him,” Burt said. “He made a bit of a scene during the event. What made it even more embarrassing is that he’s a salesman at my dealership. Thank God only myself and a few others witnessed it.”
Kat tried to recall if Danny had seemed intoxicated at the museum blaze. She hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but that was almost an hour after the party had ended. Besides, he had just finished putting out a fire. A rush of adrenaline like that could sober anyone up.
“Are you certain he was drunk?” she asked.
Burt shrugged. “Well, I’m not positive. But it’s the only explanation I can think of for what transpired.”
“And what exactly happened?”
“At one point during the party, he cornered me,” Burt said. “He demanded that we talk about his salary.”
Kat tilted her head at him. “At your dealership?”
“No. As a firefighter. He wanted to be a full-time, paid firefighter, instead of a mere unpaid volunteer. He said there might come a time when the town needed a paid fire squad. He said, and this is an exact quote, ‘What if someone decides to set this whole town on fire? Then what will you do?’ I told him that the party was the wrong place to bring it up and that we could discuss it in my office at a later time.”
“Did he agree?”
“Not really,” Burt replied. “He simply walked to the bar and got another drink. That was the last time I saw him during the party. Someone must have driven him home because he was gone by midnight.”
Kat exchanged a knowing glance with Nick. He was thinking what she was—that Danny Batallas now looked guilty as sin.
“Do you know where we could find Danny today?”
“He’s scheduled to be at the dealership right now,” Burt said. “I’d stop by there first if you need to talk to him.”
“Thanks for the tip. We’ll be sure to do that.”
The gym floor had receded for the umpteenth time, revealing the pool in all its chlorinated glory.
“I hope it helps, although I’m sure Danny has nothing to do with this,” Burt Hammond said as he stared at the glimmering water. “But you better catch whoever the hell did this very soon. This town can’t take any more murders. Or fires, for that matter.”
10
A
.
M
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Henry’s eyes were killing him, thanks to an hour spent poring over documents about Giuseppe Fanelli. The pages were now scattered around the room. Some weighed down the poor excuse for a desk. Others sat in lopsided piles on the floor or spread across the bed. Henry had read them all. When he closed his eyes, he still saw them—lines of business-speak typed in crisp Italian floating across the back of his eyelids.
And despite all that time spent reading, he hadn’t learned anything concrete about Fanelli and his latest venture, Fanelli Entertainment USA. He certainly didn’t have a clue about what Giuseppe Fanelli planned to do in Perry Hollow.
It didn’t help matters that his mind insisted on drifting back to Deana Swan. More than once, Henry found his thoughts veering off the page he was reading and into the recent past. He’d think of the surprised expression on Deana’s face as she saw him at the end of the drive. He wondered about his appearance and if she noticed the new scars on his lips.
Most of all, Henry thought about how Deana looked. The past year had left her unchanged. She still had the same kind eyes, the same sweet smile that could turn naughty in an instant. But there was something different about her. Something invisible yet still palpable. Maybe it was sadness. Or maturity. Probably it was just the strange sensation of seeing her again after such a long time. Whatever it was, it was distracting Henry from the sole reason he was back in Perry Hollow—his job.
Henry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get it together, Goll. You’ve got work to do.”
And now that it was mid-morning in Perry Hollow, he needed to start doing it. That meant phone calls. Lots of them. Sitting on the edge of the creaky bed, he grabbed his phone and dialed the home of David Brandt, partner at Everhart and Brandt, the real estate firm that helped sell the one hundred acres of Perry Hollow to Giuseppe Fanelli. Mr. Brandt—who answered on the first ring, Henry noticed—didn’t seem to mind being bothered on the weekend.