Shadows at the Spring Show (24 page)

When he got back, he said quietly to Maggie, who had just finished her second slice of fully loaded vegetarian pizza, “That was the police. They wondered how long everyone would be here tonight. They’re keeping track of cars in the parking lot.”

Maggie hesitated. “Have they seen anything suspicious?”

“No, not at all,” Al said. “They’d just thought we’d all be home by now. I told them I was staying the night, and which car was mine. The rest of you were finishing up and I thought you’d be gone by seven thirty or so.”

Maggie nodded. “I hope so. Everything’s gone better than I thought it might today. And we all need some rest before tomorrow. The gymnasium should be quiet for the night.”

“I’m hoping so.” Al smiled. “Now I’ve had dinner, and there’s candy in a machine for dessert, and no competition for the showers. I even brought in a portable TV. So I’ll be set. I figure every couple of hours I’ll do a walk-through, unless I hear something
in the meantime. The police know I’ll be here, so they won’t worry about a light or two. And they’ll drive around the parking lot a few times during the night. None of us expect any problems. Tomorrow is the real test.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” said Maggie. “This has been such a lovely, peaceful, productive day.”

At that moment the gym shook. A loud explosion erupted close by. Claudia screamed; Maggie froze. Al dialed his cell phone as he ran to the window overlooking the parking lot.

“We need fire and police help outside the Whitcomb Gymnasium at Somerset College. Stat. A car in the parking lot’s just exploded, and it’s burning.” He hesitated. “No, thank goodness. No injuries.”

Chapter 31

Godey’s Fashions for December 1872.
A double-fold, hand-colored engraving from
Godey’s Magazine,
illustrating the latest fashions from Paris for American women. (It also often included patterns for trimmings and embroideries.) This unusual print features a bride, in the center of the page, being handed a black mantilla by a sad-looking woman in an elegantly embroidered dress. A woman and a young boy wearing purple, the light color of mourning, are to the side. Has the bride just learned of the death of someone close to her? The question is raised, but left unanswered. 8.75 x 11 inches. Price: $65.

Al immediately turned to the six people who were still eating pizza in the lobby of the gym. They could all see what had happened through the large glass window overlooking the parking lot.

“No!” Maggie whispered, her hand over her mouth. Will put his arm around her and tried to turn her away from the view, but she refused to move. Abdullah sank down to his knees, covering his head.

How awful. He must be reliving the explosions at the World Trade Center. Eric, who had also lost a brother, knelt down and put his arm on Abdullah’s shoulder. Hal just stared, in shock or fascination.

“What the hell happened?” asked Claudia, running toward the glass window. “Maggie’s van just blew up!”

“That’s exactly what happened,” said Al. “I’ve called 911. Everyone, get back as far as you can from the window. If there are any other explosions the glass could shatter.”

They all moved back, but everyone kept watching in fascination. Parts of Maggie’s blue van were all over the parking lot. What was left of it was burning in a blaze of fiery gasoline as high as the gym. The van was gone.

The next question was, would it take anything else with it?

Thank goodness the gym is made of steel and concrete, Maggie thought. Her van was in the center of the parking lot, about fifteen spaces from the building. Three other cars were in the lot. They must be Al’s, Claudia’s, and either Abdullah’s or Eric’s.

The one closest to the fire was a small red sedan.

“How the hell could this have happened?” said Claudia. “And how fast will that fire department get here?” Her usually animated face was pale, her wavy hair flying in all directions. She pointed toward the parking lot. “The red car near Maggie’s. That’s mine.”

Its body was already scarred by flying fragments.

“Was there anything in your van that would fuel the fire, Maggie?” asked Al.

“Nothing except the gas in the gas tank,” she said. “I hadn’t packed my van for the antiques show yet.”

Will’s arm tightened around her shoulders. She had lost her van. It had been part of her life for ten years, and she would miss it. And not relish having to buy another. Tears of grief and anger filled her eyes. But at least she hadn’t also lost thousands of dollars worth of prints. And she was still alive. Maggie started to shake when she realized that in another forty-five minutes or so she and Will would have been in the van.

As they watched the pyre, two fire engines and three police cars converged on the parking lot.

“Maggie,” said Al. “Can I see you for a moment?”

Chapter 32

Untitled. Three women crudely whittled out of wooden pegs; each has a painted face and black hair and a colored peg “body.” Each ends in a rough squared-off peg apparently for display in some sort of stand. From
Czechoslovakian Folk Toys
by Roberta Samsour, folio printed in Prague, 1941. 8 x 10.5 inches. Price: $40.

Will followed Maggie into the small room Maggie had used for her meeting with the facilities management staff only three days before. Al closed the door.

“I assume your friend knows what’s happening?” Al said to Maggie.

She nodded. “Will knows what I know. I’m not sure that covers what’s happening now.”

“I don’t want to alarm any of the younger people.”

Maggie felt old. Claudia was thirty-two, but, indeed, under these conditions, in Al’s mind she was as much a “young person” as Abdullah or Eric or Hal.

“I know you haven’t been home all day, but you said you had a friend there.”

Maggie nodded.

“If any threats or messages had been called to your home, then you would have heard about them.”

“Gussie said she’d answer my phone. She didn’t have a telephone number for the gym, but if something were critical, she would have driven here.” And thank goodness she hadn’t, Maggie thought.

“And I’m assuming if the agency had heard anything, they would have found you.”

“Everyone on the OWOC staff knew I’d be here at the gym today.”

“So let’s assume there were no additional warnings. No additional threats.”

Will put his hand over Maggie’s. “You’re ruling out the possibility this was some sort of automotive malfunction. You’re assuming someone blew the van up intentionally.”

Al nodded. “Absolutely. You can be thankful it wasn’t set to explode when you turned the ignition on.” He glanced at his watch. “It blew at about six o’clock. The van’s been parked here all day, right? You got here about eight thirty.”

“Yes. But I left from about ten thirty until eleven thirty.”

“And I used the van about one o’clock to go and buy some duct tape,” added Will. “So the van has only been parked there since about one thirty.”

“Then whoever put something in it or on it or under it did it after one thirty.” Al nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure we all agreed on a time line before the police started asking questions.”

There was a knock on the door. It was Abdullah. “Excuse me, but there’s a cop out here who wants to see you, Professor Summer.”

They all went out into the lobby. In the short time they’d been away from the window, the fire department had covered Maggie’s van with foam. The fire was under control. At least Claudia’s car hadn’t been demolished, too, thought Maggie, trying to take solace in something.

“Hi, Al,” said Detective Luciani. “And Professor Summer. And . . .”

“This is my friend Will Brewer, Detective. From Buffalo, New York. He’s here for the antiques show.”

“Will, do you think you could get the others away from the windows and see if you could all finish up taping the floor for the show?”

Will hesitated.

“Please? They don’t need to hear and see everything now. The excitement is over. And it would really help if you could finish the floor.” Maggie looked at him meaningfully. “I’m all right. Really.”

“I’m not sure doing more to get this place ready for an antiques show is a good idea,” said Will. “But all right. For now.” He went over to where the others were silently standing, staring out at the parking lot, and headed them back into the gym. None of them wanted to go back to the work they’d been doing all afternoon.

“Remember when I told you chances were that threat you received was just talk?” said Detective Luciani.

Maggie nodded. “Right.”

“Well, now we’re beyond talk. Have you heard or seen any new threats today?”

Al and Maggie shook their heads. “So far as we know, there’s been nothing,” said Maggie. “Unless something was received at the agency.”

“We’ve already been in touch with Mrs. Drummond. She hasn’t heard anything new. And it was your van that was blown up, Maggie. That had to be intentional.”

“Was it a bomb?” asked Al.

“Some sort of detonating device, I’d guess. We’ll get the experts in to decide officially,” said the detective. “Did either of you see anyone in the parking lot this afternoon?”

“The car was parked in that spot about one thirty,” said Maggie. “Will did an errand and left it there.”

“How long have you known Mr. Brewer?” asked Detective Luciani.

“About a year,” said Maggie indignantly, “and there’s no way he blew up my van! He’s a close personal friend.”

“He just got here today from Buffalo?”

“Early this morning. His RV is parked in front of my house right now. He’s a dealer doing the show this weekend. He came early to help set up.”

“And he was the last one you know was in your van.”

“Yes.” Maggie’s voice was wavering. “But that doesn’t mean he blew it up!”

“I didn’t say he did. But we have to know who’s been here.”

“I haven’t been watching the parking lot all afternoon, but I did look out whenever I walked around. I’ve been keeping an eye on doors and windows and such,” said Al. “I didn’t see anyone in the parking lot who isn’t here now.”

“Who, other than Mr. Brewer, are these people?”

“My secretary, Claudia Hall. She works here at the college in the American Studies department,” said Maggie. “And Eric Sloane.”

Luciani nodded. “I recognized him. He’s the brother of the boy who was killed earlier this week. I’d think he’d be with his family now.”

“It was his choice to volunteer to help out here. He also works here at the college. The antiques show is supporting the agency which placed him, and most of his brothers and sisters, in their family. He could have stayed home. I certainly would have understood. Maybe he wanted to get away from home for a few hours.”

“And the other two men?”

“Abdullah Jaleel. He’s a student here. He also volunteered to help out with the show. And Hal Hanson. He was adopted by a couple here in town ten years ago, but they were killed in a fire last winter. He’s staying with Carole Drummond and her husband. All four of them have spent the whole afternoon in the
gym, measuring out booths. They weren’t wandering around the parking lot!”

“And whose cars are out there? Besides yours, Professor Summer.”

“Mine is the blue Plymouth over in the far corner,” said Al. “The red sedan belongs to Claudia.”

“Glad we got here fast enough so that one didn’t blow, too,” said Luciani. “And how did the other three volunteers get here? There’s only one other car out there. A gray Honda.”

“Eric was here all morning. Someone must have driven him. Abdullah and Hal came together this afternoon.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t remember exactly. After lunch,” said Maggie. “They weren’t scheduled to work until tomorrow, but came by in case we could use their help. And they’ve been indispensable. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without them.”

“I’ll need to talk to all of them. Maybe they saw something neither of you noticed.” Detective Luciani paused. “And the show is going to continue? Even after this?”

“The show will open Saturday morning,” said Maggie grimly. “Somehow.”

Chapter 33