Murder Well-Done (23 page)

"Alphonse!" Tutti's voice cut across the dining room like a sledgehammer. She stood in the doorway to the foyer, erect, her face stern. Quill had the sudden, eerie feeling that the genial, sweet-voiced grandmother who believed in spirits had been replaced by a refugee from a Godfather movie.
Santini dropped his hands and backed off. "Sorry, Gramma."
Sunlight flashed off the rhinestones in Tutti's spectacles, obscuring her eyes. There was an uneasy silence. She resumed, in tones approaching her normal voice, "I thought you were planning on skiing with Claire, Alphonse."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Don't yeah, yeah me." The whiplash was back.
"Tutti?" Elaine fluttered behind her, a moth against her mother-in-law's stolidity. "The flowers are here. Shall I tell them to bring them in? Quill?" Her voice trailed off into its usual inaudibility. She was wearing yet another long-sleeved blouse with lacy sleeves and high collar, and looked fragile, despite her substantial curves.
Quill stepped away from Santini. "I'm sorry, Elaine, I wasn't paying attention. Would you like me to talk to the delivery people? Are the Cornell students here to do the decorating? They are? Then it shouldn't take too long to have the whole dining room looking wonderful."
"The church," muttered Elaine. Her eyes teared up.
"We'll put the flowers for the church on the terrace. They won't freeze and they'll keep just fine until morning. Then we'll whip over to the church and get them up."
Tutti gave a discreet little cough. "We'll see you at dinner tonight, then, Alphonse." The benign grandmother was back. Alphonse snarled at the three of them and stamped off, presumably, Quill hoped, to cool off skiing down the slope of the Gorge.
"Well, dear," Tutti said briskly. "Let's get those roses up."
"You'll have to excuse me, Tutti, Elaine. But I have some pressing business in the office," said Quill. She badly wanted to go through the computer disks, if only to save Claire and her female relatives the embarrassment of having Alphonse Santini hauled off to jail at the church door.
Tutti fixed her with a gimlet eye. "My dear. I have no wish to be more direct than necessary. But my family and I have spent a great deal of time - and money - at your Inn. I would appreciate it if you would help in the arrangement of the flowers." Her rose-leaf cheeks crumpled in a smile. "It won't take very long at all."
The dining room was decorated in less than two hours. And it was because Tutti, Quill realized, had the instinct, if not the outright talents, of a second Napoleon. "Except there were two, weren't there? Or three?" she murmured aloud.
"Three what, dear? No! Redo that swag, young man. I want all the roses facing out. And the drape needs to be loosened just a little. That's it. That's too far. Put it back. Good." She clapped her hands. "I want this mess cleaned up and all of you gone. Five minutes." The crew went to work with a will.
Quill turned slowly in a circle. "It's not just good, Tutti. It's beautiful."
"It is, isn't it?" Her faded blue eyes sparkled. "I never had a formal wedding myself, my dear. I took a great many pains with this one."
"The rose swags were designed by..." Elaine leaned forward and whispered a name most of America knew into Quill's ear. "But he wouldn't come here to direct it himself, of course. So Tutti said she'd do it."
"Why wouldn't he come himself?" asked Quill. She caught the exchange of glances between the two older women.
Tutti said tactfully, "Well, it's the family, dear."
"Nonsense," said Quill. "Shaw was right, you know. Good manners don't have anything to do with whether you treat a shop girl like a duchess, good manners have to do with whether you treat a duchess like a shop girl."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, dear," said Tutti.
"Just that plumbing money is morally neutral. It's what you do with it that says whether or not you have taste. And this is wonderful."
Quill looked around the dining room again and was delighted. It must have cost the earth, but the florist had delivered outdoor roses in the depths of December. The vibrant peach-orange of Sutter's Gold, the full glorious yellow of Faust, the paler yellow of Golden Fleece were all mixed in glorious confusion with the rich reds of Frenshman and Dickson's Flame, An ivy of a deep, pure green twined around the rose bouquets, interspersed here and there with full-leaved fern, The rose garlands hung from the long windows, swung gracefully from the center chandelier, and twined down freestanding vases in the corners.
"It smells like June," Quill said. "It's amazing."
"Now," Tutti said briskly, "The crate's arrived with the table linens. Elaine, dear, if you'd go find that nice groundskeeper..."
"Mike," said Quill.
"Mike, and ask him to wheel it in here, we'll set out the tablecloths for this evening. Then tomorrow, Sarah, we'll use the white damask and the linen napkins. But tonight is a quiet, family celebration, so we don't need to be as formal." She smiled at Quill as Elaine left in search of Mike. "I had a chintz sent directly from England. It has a wonderful Chinese yellow back- ground with aquamarine accents. It just makes these roses."
"Tutti," Quill began. She hesitated. "I thought... Forgive me, I don't mean to be rude. But do you want Claire to marry Alphonse Santini?"
"Of course I do. It's time we had a little political connection in the family. At least, one that we can count on." She twinkled at Quill's expression. "You can't count on money alone, my dear. Blood ties are everything."
"Oh," said Quill. "But, Tutti. What you said about the rabbit. At the s‚ance. You know who killed Nora and Sheriff Dorset. I don't understand. I don't understand at all."
"You think Alphonse was responsible?" Tutti took a small muslin handkerchief from her purse and patted her cheeks. "That's warm work, decorating. Well. My little messages to Alphonse were more in the nature of letting him know who's the head of the family. Not, my dear, that that's any of your business. As far as I'm concerned, if Claire wants him, she can have him. As long as he treats her well. As long as he understands the rules."
"But murder, Tutti. If you know something, you really have to tell the police. Have you met Sheriff McHale? He's wonderful. A wonderful sheriff, I mean. And you won't find it difficult to talk to him at all."
Tutti began to laugh. It was a warm rich laugh, and it made Quill think of her father's mother, a round woman with a joy of life that was infectious. Quill touched her arm. "I don't want to upset you. But I'm almost sure that the senator is behind these murders. And since Sheriff McHale's been here, every single murder that's been committed in Hemlock Falls has been solved. All this beauty,'" Quill said. "I just hope it's not wasted."
"We'll be fine, my dear. Just fine." Her pink cheeks got a little pinker. "There's Dina. Yoo-hoo! Here we are, dear."
" `Scuse me, Quill?". Dina, unusually tentative, crossed the dining room with a hesitant air.
"Now, Dina, did you call that young nephew of mine?" Tutti asked fondly. She pinched Dina's cheek. "He's first-year law, Cornell," she said to Quill. "The poor boy doesn't have time to find himself a nice girl, so when Dina came to the Welcoming - those of us with the Gift don't call it a s‚ance - it's so - Fox sisters, if you know what I mean. We call it a Welcoming. So, you called him?"
"Your nephew Anthony, Mrs. Mc - I mean, Tutti. No. There's this botanist I've been dating - "
"Botanist!" said Tutti. "What kind of living does a botanist make? Now a young lawyer..."
"Well, there's one to see you," said Dina. "A Mr. Greenwald."
"Oh, really?" said Quill, "I certainly would like to see him, too, Tutti."
"Joey? Here? How nice!" Tutti beamed at them both. "He's engaged, though, to my brother's third daughter, Christina. A beautiful girl."
"Where is he, Dina?" Quill asked grimly. "I put him in your office." She gave Tutti an apologetic glance, leaned forward, and whispered in Quill's ear, "Meg said that's the guy who tried to kill you!"
Quill nodded.
"Shall I get a gun or something? John's got that rifle he uses for rabid woodchucks and stuff."
Quill shook her head. "How does Greenwald look?"
"Pretty banged up. His arm's in a sling and his face is purple."
"Oh, dear." Quill marched after Tutti and found her fussing over Joseph Greenwald, who was, to Quill's guilty satisfaction, looking very banged up, He rose to his feet as she came in. Quill folded her arms and glared at him.
"I see you've met," Tutti said comfortably. "Sit down, dear." She settled herself behind Quill's desk and waved at the couch.
Quill sat.
"I received a phone call from Joseph this morning, after your sheriff had a little interview with him down at the Municipal Building." Quill blinked at her.
"Joseph is a young member of a law firm that has represented my family's interests for years," Tutti said.
"Then you absolutely need another law firm, Tutti. This man tried to run me off the road last night. In the storm."
"Why in the world would he want to do that?" Tutti cocked her head. One white curl fell charmingly over her left ear. She patted it back into place. "If Joseph was following you, and I say if, it was because perhaps you had something that belongs to me."
"Belongs to you?"
"What are those little things called, dear? You know, they stick them into those machines all the young people have these days."
"Computer disks?" Quill, perhaps because she'd had a late night, was feeling a little faint.
"That's it. Computer disks." She turned to Joseph, who had resumed his seat next to Quill on her couch. "Now, Joey. What's the number of that New York State statute you were telling me about?"
"The breaking and entering statute? Or the fraudulent impersonation statute?"
Tutti turned her blue gaze onto Quill. There was a scene in Jaws that had scared the dickens out of her as a little kid. The one where Bruce the shark pulls along the boat, and his flat black eye hypnotizes Robert Shaw. "Either one," said Tutti, with a click of her white teeth. "Either one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Quill kept her hands still and her voice steady.
Tutti pulled out a jeweled compact, a lipstick, and frowned at herself in the mirror. Then she reapplied the lipstick, put the compact away, and said, "Rita the security guard does. The boy from the pizza parlor who stuck the flyer under the windshield of that battered Oldsmobile of yours does. On the other hand -if you said that you'd met Joseph on Interstate 81 headed north - there wouldn't be anyone who could gainsay that - or prove it, either. You see, dear." She leaned forward. "No witnesses." She sat back. "We'll wait here."
"It's not going to do you any good." Quill stood up. "You know about computers, Mr. Greenwald."
"Some."
"What type did Nora Cahill use?" He shrugged.
"I can give you a hint. Those software disks you found in the box of her office equipment? It was the latest edition of Microsoft Word. Practically every PC with the power to run that software automatically backs up files. Even if Nora erased it, the likelihood of one of those disk doctors being able to recover it is pretty high. And you know who has her laptop?"
"Who?" Tutti demanded.
Joseph Greenwald rubbed his forehead. "Mrs. McIntosh, ah, McHale's got it."
"The local sheriff?" she asked sharply. "How much trouble can we get from a local sheriff?"
"He's not just any local sheriff."
Quill got up. "If you two will excuse me, I have some work to do."
Tutti jerked her chin at Greenwald.
"If you don't mind, Ms. Quilliam, we'd like to recover our property despite the - er - circumstances."
There was a long silence.
"They're in my room," Quill said finally.
"Go with her," snapped Tutti. She got to her feet with a groan. "This arthritis is acting up again. I'm going to have a hot bath before the dinner." She patted Quill's arm. "I hope we see you there, my dear. In one of those lovely velvet gowns like the one you wore last night." She patted Quill's cheek. Quill had to restrain herself from biting her.
"And you gave them to her?" Meg asked, several hours later. She was standing at the Aga, an egg whisk in one hand and her copper saut‚ pan in the other. A brown sauce was bubbling in the pan. It smelled rich, earthy and winey. Quill, dressed for the evening in bronze silk, nibbled at a piece of sourdough bread.
"What else could I do? I can just see poor Howie trying to defend me on felony charges of breaking and entering."
"It's a misdemeanor, I think. Depending on what you swiped. Whatever. Tell me I was right. She is the murderer."
Quill cut a piece of Stilton from the wheel Meg had set out for the rehearsal dinner. She added it to the bread.
"Will you stop?" Meg said testily. "You're wrecking the display."
"Okay. You were right. But you were right for the wrong reasons. I can't believe you care about the quality of the food you're going to serve to a family whose business is organized crime. And a sweet little old lady who's capable of knocking off six people before breakfast."
"It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game," Meg said obscurely. "And you don't know that they're members of organized crime."
"Ha!"
"Or that Tutti's the Godmother."
"Ha, again. It should be obvious to the meanest intelligence."
"What's obvious to the meanest intelligence is that you're still no further in discovering who killed Nora and Dorset and why."
"If we could just find some hard evidence," said Quill. "The videotape. Or my coat. Even my hat, which has got to have blood on it."
"Whoosh." Meg shuddered. She dropped the whisk, startled. "Darn it, do you hear that? You don't suppose it's those idiots from S. O. A. P. again?"
Quill listened: muffled barks and equally muffled curses, followed by the crash of a mop against the floor. "Tatiana," she said. "From the dining room. Maybe she caught another mouse. And that's Doreen whacking along behind her. She seems to have taken a liking to Doreen."
"That'll shorten her life." Meg dipped a spoon into the sauce, tasted it, scowled, and dumped it down the sink. She rinsed out her copper bowl and began to reassemble the sauce. Tatiana's barks came closer, accompanied by the thump of tennis shoes against carpet. There was the skritch-skritch-skritch of canine claws against the dining room doors. Quill pushed them open. Tatiana burst in, barks at an hysterical pitch.
"You did catch a mouse," Quill said. "Ugh. Good girl."
Doreen stamped in behind her. "That ain't a mouse. It's a hat. Your hat. And there's blood allover it."
-11-
"Catch that dog!" Meg screamed.