Scam Chowder (22 page)

Val raised her hand like a student with a question. “Why not go to the police instead of killing him?”

“Money. They might freeze his assets, and she'd be out on the street.”

“Far as I know,” Granddad said, “Thomasina never encouraged anyone to invest with her son, and she said he was a good son.”

“She said that after he was dead.” Lillian sank into the barrel chair. “He always struck me as more devoted to her than she was to him. She's behaved oddly for the last few days. If one of my children died suddenly, I'd be in shock and unable to function for a long time. Thomasina played in the Brain Game as if nothing unusual had happened this week.”

Grandfather took off his bifocals and wiped them on the bottom of his polo shirt. “She might be in shock and on tranquilizers to help her cope.”

Val looked at her watch. How long had it taken Lillian to shift the conversation from her own deceptions to Thomasina's possible guilt? About five minutes. In that time, she'd erected a murder scenario based on a shaky foundation: a sprinkle of salt substitute, which no one else had noticed, onto a soup that hadn't poisoned anyone. “Did you tell the police about the salt substitute?”

“I didn't have the chance. I just remembered it.”

Granddad stood up. “Call them now. If you didn't tell them about your connection to Scott, you'd better do that too. I don't like being deceived, and neither do they. Let's go, Val.”

Val popped up from the love seat and followed him out. She now knew the answers to all the questions unanswered after her last visit here—where Lillian had come from, if she had children, what type of work she'd done before retirement, and whether she cared a fig for Granddad.
No
on that last one, and Granddad knew it now, his parting words a sign that her spell over him had broken. “Great exit line, Granddad.”

“Hmph. Unless we figure out fast who murdered two people, I'll be taking curtain calls from behind bars.”

“Let's go home and figure it out. We can bake a cake. That always helps me think.”

Chapter 23

Val smiled when her grandfather joined her in the kitchen, wearing his Codger Cook apron. “You're finally willing to get that apron dirty.”

“Who says I'm going to get it dirty?” He pointed to the index card on the island counter. “That's the recipe we're using?”

“It's a slimmed-down version of that rum cake you tried to make last month. Five ingredients.” And it had fewer calories than the original.

Granddad adjusted his bifocals and peered at the recipe. “Okay, I'll get the stuff from the pantry.”

“Don't forget the spray for the baking pan.”

“Wait a minute. That's the sixth ingredient. The Codger Cook's recipes have only five.”

“The spray isn't an ingredient. It's a necessity for baking, just like the pan.” She took the mixer from the lower cabinets. “Mixing the batter takes no time at all. I'll preheat the oven.”

He put the cake mix, oil, and rum on the counter. “You'll have to crack the eggs. I don't want any egg on my apron. I shouldn't use that mixer either. You remember what happened the last time I did.”

“Batter on the walls and cabinets, your hair and clothes. How could I forget? Empty the cake mix into the bowl and add the other ingredients. I'll run the mixer.”

“This recipe is too simple,” he said as she finished mixing and poured the batter into the pan. “You didn't have enough time to think about the murder.”

“We have time now. While the cake is baking, we'll reconstruct what happened at the chowder dinner. Why don't you set the dining-room table the way it was on Saturday night while I clean up in here?”

Ten minutes later, she went into the dining room. The table was set for seven. Plates for the chowder bowls to go on, wineglasses, utensils, and place cards. “Where did the cards come from?”

“Lillian brought them with her.”

She hadn't brought one for Omar, of course, pretending he'd dropped in. “You forgot the water glasses, Granddad.” Val took seven glasses from the china closet and added them to the settings.

Granddad pointed to the bowls and cups on a rolling cart. “We'll use the cart as the kitchen. I don't want to keep running back and forth for this exercise. Let's start. When the gang sits down, I'm in the kitchen and Lillian comes in to fetch the first chowder bowls.”

“Hang on a minute. We need to distinguish between the creamy and the light chowder.” Val took two bowls to the kitchen, splashed milk in one and water in the other, and returned to the dining room with them. “Lillian sets down the light chowder by Irene and the creamy one by Thomasina.” Val put the bowls where they belonged.

“Then Lillian goes back to the kitchen.”

“Irene says she'd rather have a cup of each chowder and hands Scott the bowl of light chowder.” Val moved the bowl with the water and went around the table to Thomasina's seat. “Thomasina says the creamy chowder looks too rich for her and passes it.”

“Stop.” Granddad kept her from moving the bowl with the milk in it. “Don't pass that chowder yet. Let's talk about Lillian's idea that Thomasina sprinkled arsenic on the creamy chowder. She could have done it. Who's watching her? Junie May's probably looking across the table as Irene passes Scott the light chowder. Omar is two seats away from Thomasina, with Junie May blocking his view.”

“Or he might have been busy with the wine. You're right that Thomasina had the opportunity to poison the chowder. Let's see if anyone else did.”

“Okay. Thomasina passes the chowder across the table to Scott.”

“Nope. She gives it to Junie May.” Val moved the bowl one place over. “Junie May announces she'd like a cup of each chowder and passes the bowl of creamy chowder to Scott.” Val carried the bowl with milk to the other side of the table. Staging the tale of the traveling chowder gave her a better sense of time and place than her table diagram did. “For a while, I thought Junie May could have poisoned the chowder. But it wasn't in front of her for long. Scott was sitting right across from her and couldn't have missed seeing her put something in it.”

“Holy cow!” Granddad pointed at Junie May's spot with one hand and Thomasina's with the other. “What if Thomasina wanted to poison Junie May, not Scott?”

Hmm. A more plausible scenario than Lillian's idea that Thomasina killed Scott, but it rested on the same flimsy foundation of a sprinkle of arsenic that no one saw. “If Junie May was the target, why didn't Thomasina stop her son from eating the chowder?”

“Maybe she was frozen with fear. She talked a lot while we ate the appetizers, but she didn't say much at the table.” Granddad took off his glasses and wiped them on his still-clean apron. “I'd sure rather think she killed her son by mistake than on purpose. Why would she want to kill Junie May?”

“Let's not tackle motives yet. We need to figure out who else had the chance to poison the chowder.” Val carried the bowl with the milk to the other side of the table. “The creamy chowder's in front of Scott.”

“Irene takes two cups of light chowder from the kitchen for herself and Junie May. Lillian brings in the bowls for herself and Thomasina. I bring in my cup of chowder. Before we even sit down, Scott says the creamy chowder is delicious.”

“He started eating before everyone else.” And finished sooner, slumping over a nearly empty bowl while the others were still eating. “When you sat down, the dog barked.”

He grinned. “Yeah, the remote was in my back pocket. I sat on the button that turned Fido on. How'd you know about the barking?”

“Junie May mentioned it. She figured the distraction gave Lillian a chance to reach across Scott's bowl for bread or salt and drop arsenic into his chowder.”

Granddad walked around to Lillian's chair. “Nah. Where's the arsenic? Clutched in the hand she's going to eat with?” Granddad turned one hand upward and made a fist. “When did she put it there? No one knew the dog would bark. It took me about ten seconds to slip my hand in my pocket and turn it off.”

“By that same token, Irene couldn't have poisoned Scott's chowder at the table. What's more, she's sitting too far from Scott to drop anything in his bowl.” Val sat at Irene's place and demonstrated that she could barely reach Scott's bowl without getting out of the seat. “We can also rule out her putting arsenic in the chowder pot when she was alone in the kitchen before dinner. Only a mass murderer would do that.”

“Same is true for me. I had no chance to poison Scott's bowl at the table and no reason to kill my guests. I shouldn't have bothered calling that lawyer. We'll just reconstruct the crime like this for the police.” He gestured with open arms toward the table. “Then they'll know I'm innocent.”

“Don't fire the lawyer yet.” Val's latest scenario—arsenic in the water, not in the chowder—gave both Granddad and Lillian a chance to poison Scott.

“Once we're all at the table, there's only one person who moves around and goes near Scott's chowder.” Granddad held up a wineglass. “Omar, when he pours the wine.”

“I'd like to see how he could have done that. I'll get a bottle of wine.”

Val went to the kitchen and peered at the cake in the oven. Only half baked, as Holtzman would say of her murder theories. She had plenty of them and absolutely no proof to back them up. The doorbell rang as she filled an empty wine bottle with water. She took the bottle and a saltshaker to the dining-room table.

Granddad led Roy Chesterfeld from the hall into the sitting room. “A deputy's here. To see
you,
Val.” His tone implied
better you than me.

Val extended her hand to the deputy with the blond tousled hair. “Nice to see you again.”

Roy shook her hand and held it longer than politeness demanded. “I was going to phone you, but I was in the neighborhood anyway. I'm glad I caught you at home.”

An excuse to visit the scene of the crime? “Have a seat.” She gestured toward the sofa as Granddad left the room, heading for the hall bathroom. She perched on the arm of his recliner.

Roy fingered the deputy hat in his lap. “You were probably right that the murderer took Junie May's notes and computer, but we found her thumb drive. She backed up her documents on it.”

“You know what story she was researching?”

“It concerned all kinds of fraud against the elderly. She had notes and sources on telemarketing cons, repair rip-offs, caretakers siphoning money, and investment scams.”

“That makes sense.” The police must not think that Junie May's research had any bearing on the murder investigation or the deputy wouldn't have told her about it. Or maybe Roy was breaking the rules to find out what Val knew. “A report about the fleecing of seniors isn't huge unless it exposes a case of major fraud. Junie May told me that Scott was one of her sources, but she didn't suspect him of fraud.”

“Her notes say otherwise. She tracked down some evidence against him, and she was looking for more.” Roy scrutinized Val's face. “You look surprised.”

“I am. When she told me Scott was legit, I didn't necessarily believe it, but I thought
she
believed it. Instead, she was putting me off the scent.” And she was stringing Scott along for her own purposes.

“She kept her research secret from her boss. She'd have no reason to tell you either.”

“She'd have even less reason to tell someone who'd want to suppress that research. Maybe she didn't cover her tracks well, and someone found out what she was researching. Did her notes on investment fraud include Arthur Tunbridge's name?” A head shake from Roy. So Junie May hadn't dug up the story of the suicide, or at least hadn't put it in her notes.

Roy tilted his head sideways toward the dining room. “Looks like you're expecting company for dinner. Sorry to interrupt.”

Granddad returned to the room. “We're not expecting anyone.”

Enlisting Roy's help with the crime reconstruction might give Val a nonchalant way to ask him about Omar's alibi. “My grandfather and I were going through what happened at Saturday night's dinner to see who could have poisoned Scott's chowder at the table. We need someone to assume the role of Scott. Are you game?”

Roy stood up. “Sure, but I won't eat or drink
anything.
”

“I don't blame you,” Granddad said.

Val showed the deputy to Scott's place at the table. “Here's where Scott sat. My grandfather can play Omar. He'll pour your wine and try to poison your chowder to see if Omar could have done it. Here's the wine, Granddad. Where do you want the arsenic?” She handed him the bottle and picked up the saltshaker.

“I can't fit anything but the bottle in my right hand. I guess it's in my other hand.”

“Hold out your left hand.” Val sprinkled a half teaspoon of salt in his cupped hand. An equivalent amount of arsenic would have killed Scott twice over. “I'll sit where Lillian was.”

She took the chair at the end of the table next to Roy. Her grandfather stood on the deputy's other side and leaned over the table with the wine bottle.

As the bottle hovered over the wineglass, Granddad pointed at Val. “There's a spider crawling down your shirt!”

Roy whipped his head toward her. Val pulled her T-shirt away to look down it.

Granddad grinned. “Ha! I just opened my hand and dropped that arsenic in the bowl. And you two didn't notice. All Omar had to do was create a diversion like a magician, point at Lillian, and say something to make Scott look at her.
Presto change-o
—the arsenic's in the soup.” Granddad showed them his empty palm.

Roy rolled his eyes. “I can't believe I fell for that.”

“I fell for it too, and I'm familiar with my grandfather's wily ways. He proved that Omar could have poisoned the chowder. Junie May didn't say she saw him do it, but she suspected him.” Val caught the deputy's eye. “Does Omar have an alibi for Junie May's murder?”

Instead of answering, Roy pointed to his digital watch. “I gotta get back to work.”

Val knew it was hopeless to press him about alibis, but maybe he'd tell her a bit more about Junie May's death. She walked him to the front porch. “I've been wondering if Junie May could have been murdered by a woman nearly twice her age.”

“Like some of your grandfather's dinner guests? Don't rule them out.” Thunder rumbled. Roy looked at the sky.

“If a senior citizen held me at gunpoint, I wouldn't sit there and let her shoot me. Junie May's killer needed to take her by surprise and keep her still for the few seconds it took to simulate a suicide.” Val's neighbor in New York had shown her a device that could incapacitate someone, similar to what the police used, but not as powerful. “I knew a woman in the city who had a stun gun that looked like a lipstick. That would keep someone from fighting back.”

“You can also buy a stun gun that looks like a cell phone.” Roy smiled.

Neither confirmation nor denial from the deputy. Maybe Val had guessed right about Junie May's murderer stunning her before shooting her. “Thanks for playing the role of the victim at the table. My grandfather really enjoyed it.”

“Don't tell him, but I noticed when he dropped the salt in the bowl. I didn't want to spoil his fun.”

Val wasn't sure whether to believe the deputy, but it didn't matter. “You knew what he was going to do. Scott wouldn't have known to watch his bowl. You're trained to be on the alert and react quickly. He wasn't.”

“That's why I didn't bother to stop your grandfather. He made his point. Omar could have slipped something into Scott's chowder, though it would have been risky. Good-bye, Val. I enjoyed my visit.”