The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (21 page)

“What?”  Myron
and I asked simultaneously.

“It’s alright,
ladies and gentlemen, it’s alright,” Ida announced, putting her arms in the
air.  “It seems our celebrity visitor has a flavor for dramatic
entrances.” Folks started to mutter and mumble around us.  “Surely you
recognize the country’s newest super sleuth, Mr. Reevan Hunt, here to visit our
world-renowned forensic sciences exhibit.”  All at once, folks rushed in
from the edges of the circle.  People were shouting my name and screaming
for my attention.

“
Great!” I said sarcastically and threw my hands in the
air.

“Is that her?” 
Myron asked, nodding to Ida.

“Who else would it
be?”  I said sulkily.

“Then let’s all go
have a chat somewhere more private.”  With that, the large man put a hand
on my shoulder and a hand on Ida and plowed us forwarded through the throng of
autograph seekers.  Ida fidgeted and fussed at first, but Myron was
pushing too hard for either one of us to control the direction of our own
movement.

He shoved us through
the crowd and turned around to face it.  “Show’s over so back off!” 
He screamed.  The crowd stopped in its tracks and fell silent. 
Somewhere in the Science Center I heard an exhibit rattle in its display. 
Myron turned to Ida and bent down silently.  “We need to chat,” he said
flatly. 
“Your office.
 
Now.”
 
Ida looked at me, appearing terrified.  I shrugged my shoulders.  She
looked back at Myron, then turned around and led the way.

“How dare you accuse
me of behaving uncivilized?”  I retorted.  “You tried to use me to
boost your museum numbers.  How dare you treat me like some kind of
attraction!
”

“You
are
an
attraction, Mr. Hunt,” Ida answered as she circled around her desk and sat in a
very high-backed leather chair.  “All celebrities are attractions, at
least until their fifteen minutes are over.  Please, take a seat.” 
Myron and I looked at each other, and then headed for the two guest chairs in
front of Ida’s desk.  “This is about Arnold, I suppose.”

“You don’t seem
surprised to see us,” I said.

“Why would I
be? 
Standard procedure.
  I was there the
night he was killed, just like you, Mr. Hunt.  I’m sure I’m a suspect just
like everyone else, well, almost everyone.”  She glared at me from her leathery
throne.  I shifted in my chair awkwardly.

“Ma’am, Mr. Hunt is
here at my request to confirm some facts.  I’ll thank you to direct any
statements to me.”  Ida shrugged and fell back into her seat.

“Fine, Sheriff, I’m
happy to cooperate.  I’m sure you have questions.  Please, fire
away.”  Myron fished out his small pad from his breast pocket and turned
it to the next clean page.

“At what time did
you leave the Pendleton Museum of Science the night Arnold Medley was killed?”

“About eleven I
guess.”

“Did you go straight
home?  Did you stay there the remainder of the evening?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Anyone
at home to verify that, ma’am?
 
You live in
Boyhan
, I assume?”

“Yes that’s right,
though my only alibis are a cat and a goldfish.”

“So there is no one
to confirm your whereabouts for that night after eleven p.m.?”

“Look Sheriff,” Ida
said, rocking forward in her chair and leaning on her desk.  “I can save
you a lot of time by pointing out a simple fact or two here.”  She said no
more.

“Go on,” Myron
finally said.

“I had no reason to
kill Mr. Medley, Sheriff.  No motive at all.  Arnold and I were
professional rivals, nothing more.  In all honesty, I’m sorry our little
contest had to end this way.  I was so hoping to put his little museum out
of commission by the end of next year.”

“What are you
talking about?”  Myron asked.

“She’s talking about
a ten year old feud, Sheriff,” I said.  “Ten years ago, Arnold Medley and
Ida
Scribbs
were both gunning for that Curator
job.  Arnold got it, and Ida ended up
here,
and
their two museums ha-”

“Science Center,”
she said.

“-and their two
buildings
have been in competition ever since.”

“Someone’s been
doing their homework,” Ida said coyly.

“Seems a little
childish to me, ma’am,” Myron said, making notes in his pad.

“It’s called
capitalism, Sheriff, and it ensures the people of this community get the most
for their money.”  Ida stood up and circled her desk as she spoke, finally
sitting on her desk in front of us.  “Again, if you’re looking for a
motive here, I’m afraid you’re just not going to find one.  It’s true that
Arnold got the job I wanted a decade ago, but
look
at
me now.  I run a very successful public establishment.  My center and
staff have been honorably mentioned in scientific literature around the
country.  This facility brings in over two million dollars in revenue
every year.  You can check if you don’t believe me. 
A
I said, this is a public establishment paid for by the
taxpayers and all of my facility’s financials are public record.  The
truth is, Sheriff, my not getting that job in that rundown little museum was
the best thing to happen to me, and I would have loved nothing more than to rub
it in Arnold’s face for the rest of his life.”

“Alright,” I finally
said.  “I’ll bite. 
If you didn’t kill him, then
who did?”

“Well there’s no
shortage of suspects, is there, Mr. Hunt?  There’s that ass-kisser Dennis
Trago
, of course.  I had only known him ten minutes
before I saw he had eyes for the king’s throne. 
Pulling
out his chair, refilling his drinks.
  Who knows what that man would
do if the king he’d been religiously serving chose to show favor on someone
else?”

“King?”
  Myron asked softly, leaning towards me.

“She means
Medley.  Keep up, man.”

“Thought
so, just checking.”
  Myron
returned to his pad and continued to scribble.

“Then there’s that
lovely doctor, Emily was it? 
Yes, Emily
Sellars
.
  Something going on there, I think,
between her and Arnold.”  Myron turned to me again.  I turned to him
and shrugged.  “Oh, didn’t you see it, Mr. Hunt?”  Ida said
sweetly.  “Didn’t you see the sneaked glances from across the table? 
I know I did.  Yes, there was definitely something there, and I’m sure
Carol
Sykora
wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Why would Carol care?” 
I asked.

“If I saw those
glances I’m sure she did too, and she must have been royally pissed.”

“What do you know
about Ms.
Sykora
?”  Myron asked, shifting in his
seat.

“Not much,” Ida
replied. 
“Just that if there was something between
Arnold and Dr.
Sellars
, then there was definitely
something else between Arnold and Carol.”

“How could you
possibly know that?”  I asked, and instantly regretted it.  I knew
how Ida
Scribbs
found out.  It was the same way
I found out. 
The touch.
  Don’t
you remember the touch and the look,
my little voice harped.  Yes, of
course I did.  I remembered the way Carol looked at him during the party,
the way she rubbed his shoulder and smiled. 
That’s the look,
alright. 
Most definitely.

“I believe you’ve
got a genuine love triangle on your hands, Sheriff.  That’s an instant
motive for both the ladies right there.  Honestly, Mr. Hunt, I expected a
famous detective such as yourself to be a little more observant of your
surroundings.  You’ll never be able to solve this noodle-scratcher if you
don’t buckle down and focus.”  She laughed a contemptuous laugh and rocked
back on her desk, hugging herself.

“I’m not a
detective, Ida,” I said.

“Well obviously,”
she replied sharply.

“I’m the
investigator here, ma’am,” Myron said in a stern voice.

“Yes of course you
are, but then, if you’re the investigator, why is he here?”  She pointed
to me and smiled.  “Still trying to clutch to those last five minutes, Mr.
Hunt?  Still trying to be somebody at the end of a life spent as a total
nobody?  And that brings us to you, then, doesn’t it.  Can’t you see,
Sheriff?  Your partner there is just as much as suspect as any of the
rest.”

“How
so?
  What’s my motive? 
Why would I kill a man I didn’t even know?”

“Because it’s the
perfect crime with the perfect results, that’s why.  You got a taste of
the limelight after that old bastard McCune bit the dust and you liked
it.  I bet you liked it a lot, and you’re not ready to let that limelight
go.  What’s the plan, Mr. Hunt?  Subsidize your laughable teacher’s
pension with a few book deals? 
A miniseries?
 
A Hollywood blockbuster?
  No, I’m afraid you’re
not immune to accusation either, Mr. Hunt.  Not immune at all.”

Wow, she’s good
the little voice said, and it immediately pissed me
off.  “I won’t stand here and be accused of murder!”  I shouted,
standing up.

“Of
course not!”
  She shouted
back, standing up and walking back around her desk.  “But you’ve got no
problem standing there and accusing me!  Get the hell out! 
Both of you!”
  She flicked her hand in the direction of
the door, plopped down in her chair and spun around to face the window behind
her.  She disappeared behind her leather shield.

“Thanks for your
cooperation, ma’am,” Myron said
,.
A
gentlemen right to the end.
  “I’ll be in touch.”  Myron and I
stepped out of her office and into the hall.  As we headed toward the
entrance, we heard footsteps follow us out.

“One
more thing, Sheriff!”
  Ida
hollered down the hall.  Her voice bounced off the walls and surrounded us
like some creepy amusement park ride.  We both stopped and turned to face
her.

“Yes?”  Myron
shouted back.

“There are more
suspects, you know.”  Myron quickly yanked out his notepad and rummaged
through the pages.

“How
so?
The
staff
were
the only ones there that night, weren’t they?”  Ida nodded
slowly in the negative.

“I’m afraid not,
Sheriff.  Arnold Medley may have paid for his own retirement dinner, but
he didn’t deliver it.”  With that, she disappeared into her office and
slammed the door.

“What the hell was
that crazy old bat talking about, Professor?”

“I have no idea,
Myron.  I don’t know
wha
-”
Simon.  The
delivery guys from the caterers.  How could you forget about the caterers?
 
“Holy crap,” I mumbled.

“What? 
What?  Tell me?  Who else was there?”

“No one mentioned
any delivery boys!  Why didn’t anyone mention them?”  Myron was
blabbering as we speed-walked towards the exit.

“I guess no one
remembered them,”
  I
replied.  “There were
two.  One named Simon, who Arnold seemed to know.  The other I never
really saw, but they both had access to Arnold’s office when they wheeled the
dessert cart in there.”

“
They
put the
cart in there?  No one told me that?  I just figured one of you
picked it up on the way to the party?”

“Didn’t Dolores
Tilson
mention it in her statement yesterday?  She was
going to bring it home with her and drop it off at the caterer’s place tomorrow
on her way to work.”

“She did say she
went back for the cart after the party, but I just assumed she was the one that
brought it with her when she came!”

We raced past the
velvet rope and through the glass doors.  “Hey,” a woman’s voice called
after us.  We stopped and turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway,
her hand outstretched.  “My twenty-five big ones, remember?”  I was confused
at first,
then
remembered my promise during our
arrival.

“Yeah, right,” I
called back, reaching into my pocket.  I grasped a quarter, pulled it out
and flicked it to her.  She caught it and that look of confusion swept
over her face once again.  Myron and I turned and continued towards the
car.

“This is twenty-five
big ones?”  She screamed after us. I turned to her, walking
backwards.  I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed my response.

“They’re big ones to
me!  I’m on a teacher’s pension.  Ask your boss…i
t’s laughable
!”

“What was the other
one’s name?”  Myron asked as we whizzed through the next intersection and
under Crook’s Bridge.  I turned to him and saw how his intense eyes glowed
between the flashing shadows of the trees around us. 
Eerie.