Rogues Gallery (13 page)

“The fully clothed body of controversial Erin City Councilwoman Olivia Wanamaker, bludgeoned to death by a frozen fish, was found Sunday by a real estate agent and her two clients in the freezer of a home for sale,” the article began.

“According to county records, the home belongs to...”

The color photo accompanying the story showed a woman in her late twenties, with dark hair and a self-assured look. Although not beautiful, she was certainly attractive. The photo looked more like the woman I'd met once or twice at social functions than did the body in the freezer.

I only glanced at the paper, having seen it at home and having read the online version of the story late last night. Tall Rawls quoted me as being “shocked” and Lynda as “saddened,” while carefully noting that Ms. Teal (retained as her professional name) was employed by the parent company of the
Observer
. Most of the quotes were from Oscar, however, and he hadn't held back much.

“It's accurate enough,” I said, “and she spelled our names right.”

Popcorn laughed right on cue, knowing full well that Lynda is Tall Rawls's hero and mentor. “So what do you think - did old Ralph do it?”

I had no opinion about that. I didn't even know what I
wanted
to believe. On the one hand, it was tempting to wish that he'd done the deed. Ralph Pendergast has been a pain in the posterior ever since he became provost. A murder rap would take care of the Ralph problem for good. On the other hand...

“That would be horrible publicity for the college,” I said, not really answering her question.

“But at least you might get a good price on the house.”

“Popcorn, you've been around me too long.”
But I'm afraid that might be just a short-term problem.

Before she could offer a loyal reply, the sound of “You're So Vain” exploded in my pocket. I took out my smartphone and answered Mac's call.

“Cody's Circus, ringmaster speaking,” I answered.

“Good morning, Jefferson. I have someone in my office with me who would like very much to speak to both of us.”

I knew it wasn't Ralph because the “Jaws” theme wasn't playing in my head. I have something of a sixth sense about him.

“Do I have to guess?”

“I doubt that you could.”

“I'm on my way.” I disconnected. “Popcorn - ”

She stood up to her full four-foot-eleven. “Your calendar is as empty as my checkbook. If anything comes up, I'll put it off or deal with it. For the record, I'm guessing the mystery guest has two X chromosomes.”

“How do you figure that?”

She shrugged. “That's the way I'd write it.”

Popcorn is addicted to the racy romance novels of one Rosamund DeLacey, with titles like
Love's Dying Ember
. It's a mild vice and the only one she has, but I fear that it does rather color her outlook on life.

Racked with guilt that I was once again deserting my post and leaving my job-endangered administrative assistant to handle whatever came in the door, I nevertheless ducked out and hoofed it over to Mac's office in Herbert Hall.

Well, he calls it an office. I call it a disaster area - an overflowing ashtray here, a set of bagpipes there, and books everywhere (not a small number of which he wrote). Mac's gargoyle of an administrative assistant, the humorless Heidi Guildenstern, was absent from her guard post, so I barged right in.

Mac was at his desk, behind the little sign that says “Thank You For Not Breathing While I Smoke.” (Yes, the whole campus is non-smoking.) Compared to him, the desk looks small. Popcorn was right that it was a woman sitting in one of his two visitor chairs, and Mac was right that I never would have guessed who. When I entered the room, she stood up and faced me. She was about a head shorter than my six-one.

“I believe you know Mrs. Pendergast,” Mac said grandly.

She was a trim, attractive woman in her mid-fifties, with chin-length frosted hair and clear gray eyes behind her glasses. I decided that Lynda would have approved of the red scarf she had chosen for a splash of color to accent her white blouse and tan slacks.

“Grace,” she said, putting her hand out. “We met once.”

“I remember.” And I was quite sure I'd never forget. It was during one jazz night at Beans & Books, our locally owned coffee house. That was the first time I'd ever seen her, and the only time until she accompanied Ralph to my wedding and the reception afterward last May. I'd been surprised that first time because when I saw the two of them sitting together across the room she didn't look like my idea of Mrs. Ralph Pendergast. In fact, I'd had the unworthy thought that perhaps Ralph was stepping out on his wife.
[***]
Possibly the fact that I was there with a young female who was not Lynda planted the idea in my head. But that's ancient history. I've completely forgotten the whole business.

“Grace has a problem,” Mac said.

“And I think you two can help,” she added quickly.

Have you ever been in a situation where you could see the lights of the metaphorical freight train that was bearing down on you at, well, freight train speed but you just couldn't get off the tracks? I sat down. Mac and Grace followed suit.

“I'm sure you know that Ralph and I own the house where that horrible murder took place - or at least where the body was found. I don't know why we ever bought such a large place, other than Ralph thought our children would visit more often than they have. We put the place up for sale four months ago and moved into a new condo in the River Heights development.” This was all fascinating intel, no doubt, but I was stuck on her highly perceptive first sentence. It had never occurred to me until now that the murder might have taken place somewhere else. How clever of Grace to spot that. But of course Ralph would marry someone with a logical mind. I seemed to recall that she was a high school teacher by training.

“This has put us in a very embarrassing position.” Hands in her lap, Grace Pendergast looked embarrassed.

“Well, embarrassment isn't fatal,” I pointed out.

She didn't return my smile. “As I told Professor McCabe, Chief Hummel already called Ralph early this morning. I'm concerned that he may jump to the silly conclusion that my husband has something to do with this awful thing.”

“And you are convinced that he did not,” Mac said, making it sound like a statement. But it was a question.

“Of course he didn't! Ralph wouldn't hurt a fly.”
But he might lay it off.

“Would Ralph have any reason for killing this woman?” Mac pressed it. “Did he even know her?”

She made a show of thinking about it. “I believe that in her capacity as a City Councilwoman she was quite critical of some of the landlords who own homes and apartment buildings rented by students. That would include us. We have a small building, eight units, that I inherited from my parents.”

“They lived in Erin?” I'd always thought of Ralph as a recent carpetbagger. Although I'm not a native myself, I've been in Erin since I came to St. Benignus as a student more than twenty years ago.

Grace nodded. “I was born here. I'm a Shayne.” That was a prominent family in Erin - not particularly wealthy or influential, but plentiful. I'd had no idea that Grace Pendergast was one of them. Now that I knew, I immediately began to worry that I might have said something true about Ralph to one of his in-laws. Oh, well, they already knew. “When Ralph was approached to take the position here, I knew I wanted to come home.”

“No doubt you used your wiles to convince Ralph that was a good idea,” Mac said.

Now she did smile. “I can talk Ralph into anything. He's such a softy.”
Ralph
-
a softy? Ralph Waldo Pendergast? What is this, Bizarro World?

Somebody had to bring this conversation back to real life, so I nominated myself. “Let me summarize the situation, then: Ralph had a conflict with Olivia Wanamaker in her City Councilwoman role over tenant-landlord issues. He's afraid this looks bad for him, since her body was found in a home you two own, so Ralph sent you to get our help because he couldn't bring himself to ask.”

“Oh, no!” Her gray eyes popped wide with horror. “Well, it's true that he'd never ask for your help. I mean, that's just not Ralph. But he wouldn't approve of me asking you for it, either. So, will you help?”

It would be uncharitable to say that her tone was wheedling, so I won't say it. But it was. I liked her anyway, I have to admit. She was standing by her man, in spite of him.

“By ‘help,'” Mac said, “I assume you want us to convince Oscar that Ralph is guiltless?”

She stood up. “That's the outcome, of course, but I assume that to get there you'll have to find out who did commit the murder. If I'm not mistaken, you just agreed to do that. I'm very grateful, Professor McCabe, Mr. Cody.”

“Jeff,” I said numbly.
Wait a minute. How did he agree to what? What did I miss?

“Just don't tell Ralph I put you up to it. He'd be upset with me.”

She gave us her cell phone number on the way out.

IV

“This is priceless,” I said acidly. “We not only have to save Ralph's bacon, but we have to do it without telling him we're doing it, which means we don't even get brownie points for the effort!”
As if Ralph Pendergast ever gives out brownie points.

Mac pulled an unlit cigar out of his mouth. “Hell and damnation, Jefferson, how was I supposed to say no to someone who expressed such utter confidence in our abilities?”

“The technical term for that is ‘stroking the immense McCabe ego.'”

He ignored my observation. “There is also the small matter of justice. However much you might relish the removal of Ralph as our bête-noir, you do not in your heart of hearts credit the convenient notion that he killed Mrs. Wanamaker - and you know that it is all too likely that Oscar will.”

I was saved from answering that by the Indiana Jones ringtone of my smartphone. When I looked at it, the cheerful face of Cecily Almond stared back at me - Cleopatra with golden hair and light brown skin. I hadn't talked to her since we had gone our separate ways on Sunday afternoon, leaving Oscar's crew and a dead body behind us. I tapped “Answer.”

“Hi, Cecily. How are you doing with all of this?”

“Thanks for asking, Jeff. I'm still kind of shaken up. Finding a dead body is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, thank goodness.”
Speak for yourself, Cecily.
“The reason I'm calling is to see whether you and Lynda are still interested in the house.”

Mac drummed his fingers on the paper-strewn desk. I paid no attention.

“I won't kid you, Cecily, we'd be very interested at the right price. I know you have a exceptionally motivated seller” - Grace said they'd moved into a condo four months ago; plus, Ralph would have lawyer's fees to pay if he got arrested - “but it might be harder now to find a motivated buyer. Not everybody likes the idea of living in a house where a murder took place. There could be, you know, ghosties and ghoulies, and things that go bump in the night. Lynda might be scared.”

The agent snorted. “Lynda Teal wouldn't be scared by a grizzly bear armed with an assault rifle.”
You know her better than I thought.
“I think I'd better talk to both of you. Why don't you two stop by my office this afternoon, say around two o'clock?”

Mac gave a “thumbs up.” Apparently he wanted me to say yes, although I didn't know why. I was pretty sure he wasn't that eager to get rid of me as his tenant and near-neighbor.

“I don't know Lynda's schedule for the day, but I'll make a leap of faith and assume she can make it,” I told Cecily.

As soon as we disconnected, I sent Lynda a text message before I forgot:
How about lunch at Daniel's at 1? Then meet Cecily at 2 to discuss house?

“I'm sure you have more than just price negotiation in mind for Cecily,” I told Mac as I tapped out the text.

“By that time I hope we will have formulated some questions for her about the murder. If Ralph is innocent, someone else must be guilty.”

I couldn't argue with the logic, just with the premise. As far as I was concerned, the jury was still out on Ralph's innocence. I left that alone for the moment, though. “But you're not going to be there at our appointment with Cecily, Mac. See, the idea of Lynda and I buying a house is that we're not going to live with you anymore.”

Mac chuckled. “Watson also deserted Holmes for a wife on at least two occasions, old boy. That did not, however, break up the partnership. I will stop by Happy Homes Realty around two o'clock.”

I didn't know how I'd break that to Lynda, so I quickly decided that I wasn't going to. She'd find out soon enough.

“Let's get back to the part about how in my heart of hearts I know that Ralph didn't do it.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “Surely you do not dispute that?”

“I admit I find it hard to believe that the Ralph we know and love quashed a woman with a frozen salmon. It's not his style - not devious enough. But that doesn't mean he didn't do it. Let's leave our feelings out of this and look at what's possible instead of what's likely.”
Dang, that sounded pretty good. Maybe I should be the detective this time.
“Anybody, even a bloodless pencil-pusher like Ralph, could get angry enough to hit somebody too hard in the heat of an argument.”

Mac stroked his beard. “True enough. That would mean that the killing was unpremeditated, just as it seems on the surface. If so, why were Ralph and Mrs. Wanamaker in that house together?”

I shifted gears. “Okay, maybe it wasn't an argument over the city housing code or whatever. Maybe the two of them were involved in a sordid affair. That's why they were meeting in the empty house. And she'd come to her senses and wanted to break off the relationship.”