Murder on a Starry Night: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery (11 page)

“How long have you worked at Canterbury, Halley?” Po asked.

“Forever, it seems.” Halley pushed a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear. “After a few years in the library, I started taking classes, so now I combine the two. The work, of course, makes the other possible—and the college is very generous to its employees.”

Po nodded. Halley Peterson was a hard worker, which she suspected from the first time she saw her—a hard worker and a woman of purpose. Just going back to school when you were in your mid-thirties took some gumption. “And you and Ollie became friends here, you said?”

“Yes.”

Halley’s face was a mirror of her soul, Po thought as a range of emotions spread out from her eyes. Sorrow, colored with happy memories. Po understood the blend well.

“Ollie spent lots of time in the library when he wasn’t in classes. Sometimes new students poked fun at him—he was so much older than they were—but before long they’d stop because so many of us knew him and liked him and once you talked to him, you saw the kindness in him. Professors let him sit in on classes, and he knew everyone. Jed Fellers, especially, took Ollie under his wing. But you probably know that. Jed was a mentor to Ollie, and then they became good friends.” Halley paused and took a drink of coffee, her voice strained with emotion. For a moment, she and Po sat in silence, the memories of Ollie Harrington filling the space between them.

Halley wrapped her long narrow fingers around her coffee cup and went on. “Sometimes Jed and Ollie let me sit with them and listen when they’d talk about astrology, and a couple of times the three of us went down to the Powell observatory in Louisburg for their Starbright Saturday night programs. Ollie didn’t go out much, but he loved going down there with the professor. Jed would explain to us what we were seeing, and then we’d go somewhere for coffee and talk about it all. Ollie would get so excited. He learned so much from Jed, and Jed would just sit there and beam at his prize student, so proud as Ollie waxed eloquently about all those things—the Pleiades cluster, the Andromeda galaxy, things I’d never heard about before.”

“I didn’t know about that part of Ollie’s life, Halley. It makes me happy to know he had such special times with good friends.”

Halley wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Ollie loved those times, and he loved it at Canterbury,” she said. “He used to tell me that Canterbury was his surrogate family And when I met his sister, I understood why he said that.”

“You aren’t fond of Adele,” Po said.

“I don’t know her that well,” Halley answered, a slight trace of defensiveness in her voice.

“But you’ve talked, that I know.”

“That was foolish of me. Sometimes I get involved where I don’t belong, I guess. But I cared so much for him. Ollie even convinced me to take a class in astronomy last semester.”

“From Jed?”

Halley blushed slightly. “Well, Ollie told me he was the best. And he was right.”

“It’s good Ollie’s friends have each other now. That helps. I know when my Sam died, my friends at Canterbury were so important.”

“Jed was mostly Ollie’s friend. But since Ollie’s death, he lets me talk about him, and we share lots of good memories. I can tell him how sad I feel and he understands. I told him how much it would mean to have something of Ollie’s. And he encouraged me to let Adele know, so I did.”

“Was it his telescope you wanted?” The telescope was clearly valuable, and Po could understand that Adele might be suspicious of someone she didn’t know wanting to take it. That might explain Adele’s anger toward Halley.

“Oh, no, not that. Telescopes you can
buy
, Po. I wanted to get some of Ollie’s writings, some of his thoughts that he put in written form. Some books.” She looked out the window, as if deciding how much to say to Po. When she turned back, her words were deliberate and careful. “Ollie talked sometimes about me sharing his home someday.” Halley paused for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was profoundly sad. “And then he was murdered. And no one seems to be doing much about it.”

“The police are doing everything they can, Halley.”

“Then why is Adele Harrington still building a bed and breakfast? Why is she still occupying that house, acting like everything’s fine?”

“Do you think Adele had something to do with Ollie’s death?” Po asked. A young waitress appeared and refilled their cups, then disappeared across the room.

“It’s the only way she could get her hands on that property. I know Ollie wasn’t going to will it to her. Adele never liked Crestwood—Ollie told me that. She doesn’t deserve his home—he wanted someone to have it who would appreciate it.”

“Someone like you.”

“Or Joe Bates, or anyone who would care for it, not turn it into a way to make money.”

“I heard what happened to Joe Bates the other night.”

Halley’s head shot up. “You know about that?”

Po nodded.

“Of course you do. Kate Simpson was there. And her boyfriend. I almost forgot.”

“Why were you going to see Adele again? Was it for his things that you mentioned? I know she wasn’t very receptive to you a couple weeks ago.”

Halley laughed softly, but her face grew sad. “I wasn’t there to see Adele. I was going to see Joe.”

“Joe? So he was getting something in the house for you?” That would explain a lot of things. Perhaps Joe was the one who had entered the house a few nights ago, looking for things of Ollie’s so they wouldn’t be thrown away.

She shook her head. “No, Joe wasn’t breaking into her house. He wouldn’t do that. He was just trying to get Neptune, like he told the police. Neptune was Ollie’s cat, and he sometimes went back into the house, looking for Ollie. I had just arrived when it happened.

“Joe is terribly lonely now, and every now and then he calls me and asks me to come look through the telescope with him like he and Ollie did. Or look through some of Ollie’s things that he’d confiscated from the trash pile that Adele was throwing out. He’d go through it every single day to be sure nothing of Ollie’s was heaved into the dumpster.

“But the other night he was very upset when he called. He said I needed to come talk to him. He knew who killed Ollie, he said, and he could prove it if only I would help him find something.”

Po frowned. “Find something?”

Halley smiled sadly. “Joe has been a little crazy since Ollie died. He’s been obsessed with things, first about the house, who would get it. And lately he’s called me a couple of times when he doesn’t make sense. The other night he was particularly anxious, so I thought I had better go over and talk to him, make sure he was all right.”

“So you think he was just ranting? Could he know something, do you think?”

Halley shook her head. “I don’t know, Po. He loved Ollie so much, and he hasn’t been quite himself since this happened. I think sometimes he feels guilty, like he should have kept Ollie from dying.”

“That’s a burden he shouldn’t have to bear, Halley. Joe has been with the family for a long time. Whenever I went to see Ollie, Joe would check me out, make sure he knew who I was. He was probably the best security guard Ollie could have had, not that he needed one. Joe rarely left the property since Mrs. Harrington died. I asked him once if he’d do some more yard work for me, and he told me he couldn’t—his job was with Oliver. Ollie couldn’t have asked for a more devoted friend.”

Halley looked out the window again. Students wandered by alone and in groups, relishing the fall sunshine. Welcoming mid-term exams and a brief fall break from school. Finally she brought her attention back to Po. “Joe and Ollie were an odd couple, Ollie the brain, Joe the caretaker. Ollie said his mom made sure that Joe was always there for him.”

“And Ollie’s father? Did he ever talk about him?” Po had known Walter Harrington socially, but had always found him slightly unapproachable. Distant.

“No, he didn’t talk much about his father. I don’t think Mr. Harrington had much to do with his son. Ollie wasn’t going to take over the family holdings or be the corporate leader his father was, so he didn’t matter much, is the way I interpreted it. It was his mother Ollie cared about and who cared about him.”

“I know when she was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years after Walter died, Ollie was bereft.”

“He told me about that. Ollie was about my age when she died, I think.”

Po nodded. “About that, maybe a little older. Ollie became kind of a recluse for awhile, then sought out the college, and he seemed to find a life again.”

“It’s all so tragic. This sweet man. There was a brilliance beneath his simple surface, at least when it came to constellations and things like that. It was almost an obsession.”

Po smiled. That was so true. She remembered how as a young boy, Ollie would come to her door, selling odds and ends he’d find around town so he could buy small binoculars or books about the stars. He’d tell her exactly where Mars was that day and what his favorite constellation was. And he was so happy when someone would listen to him.

“Why would anyone kill Ollie, Po?” Halley asked suddenly. “Is land that important? Did Adele want that house so badly? In the four years I’ve known Ollie, she visited him once. Once! And it was awful—she wanted Ollie to move into a small condominium near her and sell the house. Can you imagine Ollie in a condominium? It was an awful time for him. And now she’s back and has what she wants. The estate is all hers. And she’s turning it into something he wouldn’t have liked at all.”

“Maybe he’d have liked his sister coming home at last, Halley,” Po said gently.

Small tears ran down Halley’s cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed.

“Do you really think Adele was involved, Halley? Maybe it’s your deep sadness in losing a friend and wanting some resolution to that.”

Halley looked back at Po. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, then shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Somebody killed Ollie, Po,” was all she answered.

Po reached across the table and covered Halley’s hand with her own. “Yes, someone did that terrible thing, Halley. And someone will pay for it—and hopefully that will be soon.”

But much later that night, Po stood in her robe on the back deck, looking up at the same sky that Ollie Harrington loved with such passion. She thought back on her conversation with Halley Peterson and wondered about her own hollow words. Halley was lashing out at Adele, she thought, because there was no one else to focus on. She was the visible sign of the loss Halley had suffered in losing her friend. But killing her own brother?

Po shuddered. A breeze whipped her robe about her legs and she stepped back inside, closing the French doors behind her. It was so unsettling: Her conversation with Halley, and even more than that, the uncomfortable feeling that there were secrets at 210 Kingfish Drive that threatened people she knew. There was a feeling of dread building up in the neighborhood—the place where she’d raised her children, walked alone at night, and left her doors unlocked. Having that lifestyle threatened was disturbing, unsettling, and in the end, made Po angry. She walked to the stove and put a kettle on to brew some tea before bed. It would be hard to sleep, she knew. It was time to do something.

Joe Bates shuffled around the side of the wide garage and walked silently toward the pond in the back of the big house. The sun was slowly climbing up above the trees in the east and Joe could feel the soft glow on his leathered skin.
It’ll be a warm day
, he suspected. A late fall day tinged with impending winter. He clutched the thermos of coffee and planted one foot after another, drinking in the morning air. Not that the days had all been so great lately, but early morning seemed another world, another time, and he could forget for awhile the things that had gone bad, the dark days and dangers all around him.

It was still quiet at this hour, before the jostling groups of foul-mouthed workers invaded his home. They’d come today, even on a Saturday, he knew. No peace. But for this brief hour, it was just Joe and his pond and the soft flat lilies floating along the surface. But no Ollie, who used to bring him blueberry muffins that he’d make all by himself, and they’d sit beside the pond while the last remnants of the sky’s galaxies faded into the light of day. And he’d let Ollie go on and on and on about those planets and stars that were so real to him they nearly became family. Lordy, how Joe missed that boy. Loved Ollie like a son, quirks and all. He was a good boy. Not sharp-tongued like that sister of his. Not cruel like his father. Kind and gentle, just like his sweet mother, God bless her soul.

The thought of Oliver gripped Joe fiercely, and he paused on the flagstone pathway, his head cloudy and sad. Then, with the commitment he’d made to Ollie, he continued on toward his pond, trying to push the painful thoughts aside. Old Missus Harrington had left it up to him to watch over Ollie—even gave him the apartment up behind the garage so he’d stay close. And what’d he done? Let him get killed. And now he’d have to do something about it. Bring honor back to the boy. And now at last he knew how to do it. He’d right the wrong. Just like the Bible told him to do.