Tickled to Death (14 page)

My thoughts were chaotic, to describe them charitably. “You were killed in an explosion.”

“And now you think I’m a ghost?” Her laugh was lilting and almost contagious, and her eyes seemed to glitter with pleasure. “That is rich, truly rich. I’ve been accused of many things, but never of having haunted someone. Should I wiggle my fingers in the air and shout, ‘Boo!’?”

I shook my head.

“I know what let’s do,” she said. “Since the power is off, we can’t have coffee. Let’s have Bloody Marys, shall we? You’ll have a marvelous story to tell afterward about how you sipped drinks with a ghost while the wind howled and the storm raged. If I’d had advance notice of your visit, I would have found something diaphanous to wear. What a shame we don’t have a camera!”

I left the letters on the bed and followed her into the kitchen. After she assembled the drinks, we went into the living room.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” she reminded me as we sat across from each other. She crossed elegantly sleek legs and snuggled her hands into the fur collar that framed her face.

I didn’t know how to answer her. Categorizing myself as a friend of her husband’s current lover seemed crass, and my breeding had been doubted. “I’m a friend of Jillian’s,” I said at last.

“And how is she doing?”

I was beginning to get a grip on my thoughts, although they were still a bit chaotic. It was distinctly possible that any marvelous stories I related in the future would feature a cold-blooded killer rather than an ephemeral spirit. “Jillian’s doing just fine,” I said.

“Is she?” Becca said. “I haven’t seen her in months, naturally.”

“Months—or yesterday?”

“Wasn’t I blown to smithereens three months ago, more or less? I’ve never known what exactly a smithereen is. Do you have any idea?” She gave me a mildly annoyed look. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Claire Malloy,” I said.

“Ah, yes.” She took a gold cigarette case out of her purse and delicately plucked a victim from it. “The famous snoop. You weren’t being truthful when you said you were a friend of Jillian’s, were you? You’re a friend of the woman Dick’s been dating these last couple of weeks. You came at her request to try to prove Dick didn’t murder poor little me. How are you doing with that?”

“I think we can concede that he didn’t murder you. Therefore, all three witnesses lied about seeing you on the boat. One of them is no longer with us.”

“Dick did the community a service when he killed Bubo Limpkin. I felt positively itchy every time I went into the marina office to pay for
gasoline or purchase a soda. Bubo was an oily little weasel.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Your presence proves Dick didn’t murder you. Bubo couldn’t have been blackmailing him.” I flinched as lightning shot downward. Thunder resounded within a nanosecond. There was something almost comical about the situation: a dark and stormy day, a dimly lit room, an apparition clad in luxurious fur. Almost, but not quite. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have been perspiring to the point I was licking salt out of the corners of my mouth.

“Bubo could have been blackmailing Dick for some other reason,” she said as she blew out a stream of smoke. Nothing about her was the least bit damp. “My dear husband might be trafficking in Smurf gas, or even more dastardly, shooting eagles. I’d hate to incur the wrath of the Dunling Foundation. I played tennis with Agatha Anne and Georgiana, and I understand Wharton has ordered a flamethrower to incinerate the groundhog.”

A gust of wind hurled a branch against the window. I bit back a yelp and tried to verbalize an idea as indistinct as the sky. “You did incur the wrath of the Dunling Foundation,” I said slowly. “You took their money, didn’t you? You took their money and went—where? Key West?”

“For a month, then I kissed Barry good-bye and went to Paris.”

“Leaving Agatha Anne and Georgiana to try to
cover up your theft. It’s no wonder they panic whenever someone offers to help decipher the books. I would suggest your accounting system was very straightforward: you converted all the assets to cash and wrote yourself a big check. The Dunling Foundation will be ruined if it’s known that all those donations went to fund your trip to Paris.”

“Birds have survived for one hundred and forty million years without the aid of the Dunling Foundation,” Becca said dryly. “Somehow or other, they managed to get by without brochures to illustrate their migratory paths and mating behaviors. At some point a caveman might have donned a T-shirt with an ecologically correct motto and taken his tribe on a bird walk, but in general, the birds have done just fine.”

I wasn’t ready to be drawn into a debate about the usefulness of the foundation. “On the day of the so-called accident, you went to the office and wrote the check. How did you get into town?”

“Anders offered me a lift.”

“And took you to the airport?”

“I do prefer to fly, but I was a teensy bit worried that the police might make inquiries at the Farberville airport, and even at the bus station. Anders was sweet enough to drive me to a town fifty miles away, where I put on a boring brown wig and sunglasses and climbed onto a bus. Buses smell dreadful, don’t they?”

I went into the kitchen to replenish our drinks
while I thought this over. “When Anders arrived at his trailer,” I said as I came back into the living room, “he was met by two very unhappy members of the foundation. They decided the only way to cover up your disappearance was to fake the explosion in the boat. Your body would be lost at sea, so to speak, and they would receive the insurance money to cover expenses until the next fund-raiser. Bubo would have readily accepted a bribe. I’m surprised Anders went along with it.”

Her expression reminded me of the red-tailed hawk. “Anders had way too many shots of vodka one night and told me a fascinating story. It seems he got into some trouble twenty or so years ago while he was studying in New York and felt the need to disappear. He lacks one of those cute little green cards, and he worries that the immigration authorities are interested in his whereabouts.”

“Does Agatha Anne know this?”

“Of course she does, as does Georgiana. We were dear, dear friends, you know. I let it slip while we were having lunch. It turned out to be useful to all three of us to have something to dangle over his gorgeous blond head.”

“What about Jillian? Was she part of the conspiracy?”

“I don’t know, Claire. Bear in mind that I was
not
part of it. While they were blowing up the boat, I was on a bus ride to an adjoining state, and a day later on a flight to Key West. I rather
expected them to file charges and unleash bloodhounds to hunt me down. I had no inkling I was dead until Barry called Sid at my request to find out what was happening. Barry reported that Sid sounded very depressed when he described my fatal accident. Sid is such a dear, isn’t he?”

“So is Dick, You spotted him immediately as the most likely nominee for your husband, didn’t you? There was only one small hindrance—his wife. By sheer coincidence, she died within a matter of months. Dick was overwhelmed, and it was fortunate that you were there to ease him out of his grief and eventually assume the role of the second Mrs. Cissel. Then you grew tired of that, and went away to become the second Mrs. Strix.”

“Heavens no,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Barry was too enamored of his freedom to be trusted. Fidelity is so vital to an enduring relationship. Besides, I needed Barry only long enough to do some little banking chores and book a flight to Paris. Paris is truly divine in April.” She lit another cigarette and sighed dreamily. “I had a lovely, lovely time with Jean Paul, and then with Enrico, who’s an Italian count and an infamous scoundrel. He’s no longer allowed in the casinos at Monte.” She arched her eyebrows at me. “I mean Monte Carlo, naturally. Have you ever been there?”

“And then the money ran out?” I suggested as I went to the window and looked out at the lake. The rain had slackened to a mist, but the
whitecaps seemed to race across the water like tiny sailboats. The sky was no less gray. I opened the sliding glass door and stepped over the dripping foliage. “Why did you come back to Farberville? Weren’t you worried that someone would spot you and you’d end up in jail?”

“Very much,” she said as she joined me, “but I was desperate for money and I kept thinking about the jewelry I’d left in the safe in Dick’s office. I’d intended to pick it up on my way out of town, but Dick’s car was in the driveway. I couldn’t risk a confrontation with him that would delay my departure. If Georgiana had opened the foundation checkbook and then conferred with the bank, she would waste no time calling the police.”

It occurred to me that I might call the sheriff’s office, if the telephone lines weren’t down. I was about to concoct an excuse to go inside when Becca said, “There’s where poor Jan left her clothes the night she took her last swim. She was a wonderful woman, quiet and unassuming, but with a sly sense of humor that needed a little coaxing. I cried all day after her body was found. We’d planned to have lunch and go shopping.”

“Jillian accused Dick of drowning her mother. It’s absurd, and I’m sure she’ll have an explanation when she recovers. In her original statement, she claimed to have slept soundly until Dick roused her.”

“If she recovers.”

Mendacity was in order. “She was doing much
better when I left the hospital this morning. She’s off the respirator and is expected to regain consciousness during the day.” I gave her a chance to feign surprise that Jillian was in the hospital at all, but she was frowning—and very possibly grinding her perfectly capped teeth. “I don’t know what she’ll remember about last night. What she won’t remember is destroying the portrait and typing a suicide note on her computer. You did those after you drugged her and left her to die, didn’t you?”

“I don’t appreciate your remarks, Claire. I believe it’s time for me to leave.”

I tried not to gasp as I saw Livia Dunling come out onto the patio of the lodge. The binoculars hung around her neck, but she appeared more interested in inspecting the bird feeders for damage from the storm. “Why did you come here in the first place?” I said, stalling as I willed Livia to aim the binoculars at the deck. “No, let me guess. You were staying at the house in town, but decided that wouldn’t work after Jillian’s body was discovered. Dick would stay in town, no matter what the outcome of your attempted murder.” I began to gesture broadly at her, hoping that a crude imitation of a bird might catch Livia’s attention. “Did I interrupt you last night while you were trying to get into the safe? Did Luanne frighten you away Monday afternoon when she went to pick up the mail? Did Jillian walk in and surprise you Saturday night?”

She gave me a bewildered look. “I don’t think you’d better have anything more to drink, Claire. I unexpectedly encountered Jillian at the house on Saturday, as you said. I hadn’t planned on her return Tuesday evening, but there she was. It was her home. I couldn’t refuse to allow her to stay there, could I? Then she became petulant when I asked if she knew where her father kept the slip of paper with the combination to the safe. I’d tried every sequence of birth dates, addresses, and telephone numbers.”

“So you doped her,” I said. I resisted the urge to climb onto the rail and screech like an eagle. I took a quick peek at the patio of the lodge and lowered my arms. Livia Dunling was no longer visible.

Becca stepped inside, then returned to stand in the doorway. “I’m sorry to have to end our conversation this way,” she said as she pointed a gun at me. “You’re a dear to be so worried about Dick and Jillian. I appreciate that kind of concern and generosity.”

“Jillian will tell the police everything.”

“I suppose so, but I’ll be long gone. In his haste to get to the hospital, Dick left behind his wallet filled with gold and platinum cards. I know someone in Miami who will pay a decent price for them. Not enough for Paris, I’m sorry to say, but enough to keep me going until I make new friends.”

Abruptly she went sprawling into the mess of
sodden leaves and branches. The gun continued over the rail. She began to tussle like a wounded groundhog, her furry rump wriggling as she struggled to disentangle herself.

Agatha Anne stepped onto the deck.

Becca extricated herself with a few choice phrases that were hardly droplets of honey. She brushed leaves off her coat, then turned around and held out her arms to her assailant. They made chirpy noises as they kissed the air above each other’s cheeks.

“Agatha Anne, you look wonderful!” burbled Becca. “Have you done something new with your hair—or have I simply forgotten how attractive it is?”

“I had Roberto take off an inch,” she replied, unable to keep herself from twirling a lock around her finger. “But yours looks fantastic! Surely I’m not imagining just a hint of frosting?”

Becca took Agatha Anne’s arm and led her to the settee, which was the only piece of furniture not under several feet of horizontal oak. “I found this genius in Paris. He was mad for me, of course, and I used to torment him by threatening to have my hair done elsewhere. Let me give
you his number. You’ll have to make an appointment six months in advance.”

I’d have felt more comfortable if I’d been dropped into a DAR meeting. Agatha Anne seemed uninterested in bringing up the obvious topics—the Dunling Foundation’s assets—and Becca was praising the virtues of her Parisian hairdresser. In the meantime, Jillian was in a coma at the hospital and Captain Gannet was considering the wording of an arrest warrant.

“If you’ll excuse me…” I murmured as I started for the doorway into the house.

Agatha Anne broke off her string of compliments. She took a small gun from her purse and pointed it at me. “I wish you wouldn’t leave just now.”

I scowled at her. “Well, I wish people would stop pointing guns at me. Guns make me very nervous, as do people who pull them out of their pockets and purses. With the exception of insurance fraud, you haven’t committed any crimes that I’m aware of. Becca, on the other hand, tried to murder Jillian and frame Dick. We didn’t have time to discuss Jan’s death, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was the one who wiped the decanter and held down the head.” I balefully eyed the end of the barrel, which was wobbling but still aimed at my midsection. “You do object to murder, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she said indignantly. “I’m an Episcopalian. But don’t you realize that we
have eagles nesting at Turnstone Lake for the first time in a century? The Dunling Foundation will be known nationally. I took a call yesterday from a radio station in Chicago that wants to do an interview with me for National Public Radio. Anders has already sold photographs to numerous newspapers and magazines. Donations come in the mail every day. Livia says the aerie will be the pinnacle of her memoirs. You can’t spoil all this just because Becca…borrowed a few dollars.”

“And gave a young woman what may be a lethal dose of barbiturates,” I said stonily. “Will your radio interview go quite as well if you’ve been to Jillian’s funeral earlier in the afternoon?”

Agatha Anne turned to Becca, who was picking at her fingernails. “You didn’t mean to do anything more than knock her out, did you?”

“Heavens, no. She’s like a kid sister to me. If I thought for a minute that she would suffer any serious damage, you know perfectly well I wouldn’t have put one single little pill in her coffee. I was thinking I might take her with me the next time I go to Paris. I found a boutique with the most divine things, and the prices are not at all as outrageous as at most of the shops. Oh, and I must tell you about the
parfumerie
I discovered by the Opéra!”

“Would you like to guess which organization funded the shopping spree?” I said to Agatha Anne. “Let’s discuss finances. Bubo could not
have blackmailed Dick. He was much more likely to blackmail the person who’d paid him to lie about the explosion. What was the going rate?”

“He agreed to swear he’d seen Becca on the boat for a thousand dollars,” she said with a dainty shrug. “Ironically, that was exactly how much was left in the Dunling Foundation account.”

“And the explosion itself?”

“I turned on the propane and lit a candle in the galley. The boat was aimed at the middle of the lake. As soon as the propane reached a certain level…”

“The boat blew up,” Becca said admiringly. “I wish I knew more about explosives. They seem so efficient when one needs to dispose of evidence.”

“Or lack of evidence,” I said. “I’m impressed with your expertise, Agatha Anne.”

“Anders suggested the technique. He had some training in that area while he was in college in New York. He joined some radical organization that met in basements.”

Becca giggled. “He said it was
de rigueur
for the women to go braless and refuse to shave. As a European, he was accustomed to it. Oh, Agatha Anne, can you imagine the look on Sid’s face if he found a patch of wiry hair under your arm? Wouldn’t he just die!”

“Could we discuss the marina?” I said with
some desperation. Either one of them was capable of suggesting we reconvene in a restaurant, where we could discuss explosives and blackmail over shrimp salad and white wine. We could discuss the murders while we shopped.

Agatha Anne set the gun down, although in a spot where Becca could not get to it easily. “If you insist. Bubo called me and said that you claimed to be an insurance investigator. He wasn’t sure who you were, but he was alarmed and demanded ten thousand dollars that night. It was a Saturday. He refused to listen when I pointed out that banks are closed on Saturdays and I had no earthly way to get that much money. He was mulish and unreasonable. I was prepared to tell him so when I arrived at the marina, but then you came creeping along and I was forced to hide under the captain’s chair on our boat. When I got home, I found a live spider in my hair!”

“You poor thing,” Becca said, taking her hand. “I remember how much you dislike spiders.”

“Was Bubo already dead when you arrived?” I asked.

Agatha Anne looked up at me. “I never saw him, so I have no idea. I hope you’re not implying I killed him. I went down to try to convince him that he would find himself in trouble if he switched his story. He’d accepted a bribe and lied to Captain Gannet. At the very least, he would be an accessory to insurance fraud.”

Becca took an emery board out of a furry recess and began to file her talons. “Don’t bother to ask me, Claire. It did not occur to me to call Bubo when I arrived back in Farberville. All I wanted to do was gather up the jewelry and fade away. It’s
très amusant
to be dead. No tax returns, no junk mail, no telephone solicitors. All in all, I strongly recommend it.”

Ignoring her was easier by the minute. To Agatha Anne, I said, “Precisely what did you do Saturday night when you arrived at the Blackburn Creek Marina?”

“Georgiana and I decided that I had to at least speak to Bubo. She stayed at the foundation office in case Sid or anyone else called, prepared to cover for me. I walked to the marina and was about to go inside when I saw the headlights on the hill. It would have been awkward to explain my presence, so I hid on my boat. You came down the dock and crouched on the barge in the next slip. It was all I could do not to start giggling when you began to snore. I was about to sneak away when you stood up and went to the end of the dock.”

“Did you push me?”

“Yes, but I had no choice,” she said, attempting to sound contrite. I was not touched. “There I’d been for what felt like hours, my knees aching, my sinuses dripping from the night air. I had no way of knowing if you might return to the barge and stay there the rest of the night, and I simply
couldn’t bear another minute on the boat. You’re so accomplished in other areas that I was certain you were an excellent swimmer.”

“And you saw no one else at the marina?” I persisted. Behind me in the house I heard a door open. It was possible Livia Dunling had seen us on the deck and alerted the sheriff’s office. As much as I dislike fictional heroines being rescued by the Mounties, I would have kissed a Mountie and his horse, too. “Are you positive you didn’t see anyone?” I said more loudly to let the deputies know where we were. “Did you take the gun that’s right there next to you on the end table to the marina?”

“She was acting very peculiar earlier,” Becca whispered to Agatha Anne. Her eyes widened as she looked past me into the living room. “We seem to—to have a visitor.”

I turned around and prepared to welcome the Mounties, or in this case, Captain Gannet.

Wharton Dunling came across the room and aimed his shotgun at Agatha Anne. “Throw the gun off the deck,” he snapped.

“Why, Wharton,” she said, stunned, “we’re so glad to see you—”

“Throw the gun off the deck.” He waited until she had obeyed, then grabbed my arm. “All three of you, let’s go.”

Becca tried to give him her warmest smile. It was not her best effort to date, but she was doing better than I. “How is Livia? I was so worried
about her when she had that heart attack two years ago. I do hope—”

“On your feet,” he said. His fingers dug into my arm with surprising strength. “Don’t try anything, Mrs. Malloy. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

For the second time that morning, I was profoundly inarticulate. “I have?”

He gestured for us to precede him. In single file we trooped through the living room and out to the parking lot. It must have been a bizarre sight—Agatha Anne leading in her solemn skirt, Becca in a majestic fur, and I in my utilitarian shirt and jeans. It presented a splendid opportunity for someone to drive up and appreciate the array of life styles. No one did.

“In the car,” he said, pointing at my hatchback.

Agatha Anne waggled her finger. “It’ll be much too crowded, Wharton. Why don’t I take my car and follow the rest of you?” He aimed the shotgun at her face. “Or maybe not,” she added. “We can manage to squeeze in somehow. May I ask where we’re going? I promised Luanne I’d bring her some iced tea and a sandwich at noon. Dick hasn’t eaten a thing—”

“Get in the car,” Wharton growled. “We’re going to the marina.”

I was the designated driver. Agatha Anne sat beside me; Becca and Wharton sat in back. The barrel of the shotgun dug into my neck as I drove to the top of the driveway and then hesitated,
wishing I had my map. I’d made so many wrong turns that I anticipated them, but Wharton might become irritated. I did not wish to be the source of his irritation.

“Turn right,” Agatha Anne said softly.

I took her advice at the ensuing crossroads, and we arrived at the marina without incident. The truck was parked where I’d seen it earlier. There were no other vehicles, no doubt partly because of the signs that proclaimed the marina off-limits and discouraged trespassing with threats of prosecution. The storm was an added inducement.

He ordered us out of the car, then herded us toward the covered dock. I frowned as we passed the barge where I’d hidden. Agatha Anne had pushed me into the lake to avoid an “awkward” explanation. It had led to my awkward encounter with Bubo’s body. I vowed to discuss priorities with her at a more propitious moment.

“Exactly what do you have in mind?” Becca asked thoughtfully as we halted at the Gallinagos’ boat. “I read an account of my fatal accident, and ever since then I’ve avoided boat rides. The very thought makes me queasy.”

“Get on the boat,” he said.

“Now, Wharton,” said Agatha Anne, “you need to reconsider this. Livia’s heart is not strong. She truly needs someone to take care of her. Left alone, she might wander into the woods and never be seen again.”

He repeated his order. Like an orderly troop
of Girl Scouts, we climbed into the boat and waited mutely while he did the same.

A chilly wind began to blow as I watched him take a coil of wire from his coat pocket. It felt like sleet as he removed a candle and set it aside. At his command we sat in a row on a bench. He quickly bound our wrists with wire and knelt in front of Agatha Anne to secure her ankles. The only sound throughout this was rain pelting the metal roof above us.

Time seemed of the essence. “You won’t get away with this,” I said, frowning at my wrists.

“Why not?” he asked as he moved to Becca’s ankles. He sat back and looked up at her. “No one’s going to miss this one. She’s already dead. As for you two, maybe I’ll tell Gannet there was a message on the office answering machine in which you said you were going out together to make sure the aerie survived the storm. Gannet won’t be pleased with another mysterious explosion, but there’s not much he can do about it.”

“Anders and Georgiana know that Becca’s not dead,” I said, struggling to reason with him as he wired my ankles together. “And Jillian will—”

He yanked the wire tighter. “Jillian won’t do anything. Sid called to tell us she passed away two hours ago. From what I heard while you were talking on the deck, that’s pretty Miss Becca’s fault. That gives me two good reasons to make sure she’s on the boat this time.”

“It was an error,” Becca said promptly. “I ei
ther misjudged the dosage or she was overly sensitive. I wouldn’t dream of harming such a sweet young woman. It’s really rather unkind of you to accuse me of something so terrible, Wharton.”

He sat down across from us and gave her an evil smile. “Is embezzling all the money in the Dunling Foundation less terrible? You never bothered to butter me up the way you did the others, maybe because you think I’m nothing but a crazy old coot. I’m not so crazy that I didn’t have a look at the accounts and make a few calls to the bank and investment firm. I had an idea where you’d gone, and I made a call to an old army buddy who was a sniper. It’s a damn shame you had time to fly the coop.” He looked at Agatha Anne. “She wouldn’t have if you hadn’t tried to cover up her crime to protect your precious reputation. Every time your picture’s in the newspaper, you make sure you’re identified as the president of the Dunling Foundation. You care more about the society page than you do about the birds, don’t you?”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I was worried that Livia might find out. The foundation means so much to her.”

He shook his head. “If you’d told me that day, I’d have tracked her down before she spent all the money. I was in the military for thirty years. I have friends in every corner of the country. We could have found her in a matter of days.”