They gave Field a contract for the July Fourth fireworks on the town square and let him move his establishment to a noncommercial zone. After all, they didn’t want to admit that their sheriff had beaten up a townsman. Understandably, because that would have opened them up to all sorts of liability charges. But Sean was sure it was one of the things—not the thing, but one of the things—that had gotten him dismissed from his job when he’d arrested the mayor’s stepson for playing mailbox baseball.

  Sean took a sip of his drink. However, all this had happened a long time ago—it felt like a different lifetime, when he’d been someone else—and he couldn’t see any connection between him and Monty Field and Monty Field’s murder. Lamebrains that they were, Monty’s brothers, always a pair of winners, were probably just looking to deflect suspicion onto his girls.

  God, he wished he could be up there now. But he couldn’t. No flights were going in or out of any of the New York City airports. He’d checked multiple times, and nothing was flying into or out of the tristate area.

  The Weather Channel announcer had reported that the storm wouldn’t be tapering off until tomorrow and the cleanup would probably take a day or two. Realistically speaking, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And really, he told himself, the truth was that even if he had stayed in Longely, he couldn’t have gotten to his daughters, anyway. He’d be at the flat and they’d be at the Field house. The situation would have been the same. But it still didn’t make him feel any better.

  Not that that was the issue at the moment. His issue was, what should he tell Bernie and Libby? He mulled that over for a few minutes, and after going through several variations of the events that had transpired, he decided that he’d better tell them the truth. All of it. When he thought about it now, he realized that although he’d gone about dealing with Field in the wrong way, his instincts had been good.

  He had nothing to be ashamed of. Even though he’d acted unprofessionally, his offense had been committed for a good cause. When he’d gotten that settled in his mind, he punched in the numbers to Bernie’s cell and told her what had happened between him and Monty Field all those years ago.

  As it turned out, he was glad he called, because the Field brothers had already hinted at the incident and this gave him a chance to set the record straight. Sean thought the conversation went well, and he was just about to hang up when Martha and her cronies came marching out of the condo complex and surrounded him, making him feel around two.

  “Who are you talking to?” Martha asked, nodding at Sean’s cell phone. When he said, “Bernie,” she grabbed the phone out of his hand without so much as a by-your-leave. “I just want to tell you your dad is doing fine,” she blared. “We’re taking him to play mah-jongg.”

  “Mah-jongg,” Bernie repeated incredulously.

  “Yes. And then we’re all going to a tai chi class. You’ll love it,” she said to Sean, catching the look on his face. “Good-bye,” she said to Bernie.

  Sean grabbed for the phone, but it was too late. Martha had already hung up.

  “I wasn’t done,” he protested.

  “Sorry,” Martha told him as she returned the phone. “You can call her back later.”

  “I can call her back now,” he snapped as he punched in Bernie’s number again. His call went straight to voice mail. He tried again.

  Martha looked at her watch. “We’re going to be late for the game.”

  “It can wait,” Sean told his sister as he tried Bernie’s number for the third time. Still nothing.

  “There’s a storm there, right?” Martha said.

  Sean allowed as how that was correct.

  “So the network is probably down.”

  “Possibly,” Sean reluctantly agreed.

  “Call someone else who uses that network and see.”

  Even though it pained Sean to follow one of Martha’s suggestions, he called Ines’s cell and got the same result.

  Martha gave him the smug smile she had had when they were kids. “I’m right,” she said triumphantly. “Maybe the network will come back up in a half an hour or so. You can try it at the game.”

  “I’m not going to the game.”

  “Of course you are. Joan will be disappointed if you don’t come. She’s been looking forward to it.”

  “But I don’t play mah-jongg,” Sean pointed out. He realized he was whining.

  “You’ll learn,” Martha said as she yanked him out of his beach chair. “It’ll be fun.” Martha emphasized the word fun, which was when Sean recollected that his sister used to teach preschool.

  “No, it won’t be,” Sean protested.

  “You never did like learning new things,” Martha observed as she handed Sean his cane. Then she added, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “You never have,” Sean mumbled.

  Martha turned to face him. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Then why did you ask me what I’d said?”

  Martha sighed. “You’re right. Some things never change. How about gin rummy? You used to like that.”

  Seam smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

  Martha clapped her hands. “At last, a positive response.” Then she changed the topic. “What were you talking about with Bernie and Libby, anyway?”

  “Monty Field’s death.” And he told Martha what had happened.

  “Joan will be interested to hear that,” Martha said when he was through.

  “Why?”

  Martha gave him an incredulous look. “Because she lived next to him.”

  “Joan Adams? So you’re in contact with her?”

  “Of course I’m in contact with her. Who do you think we were going to be playing mah-jongg with?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Why do you think I told you she was looking forward to seeing you?”

  Sean didn’t say anything.

  “You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve been saying, have you?”

  “Sure I have.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Does she live around here?”

  Martha pointed to the entrance of a five-story building. “She’s waiting for us in there.”

  Sean started walking again. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was glad that he’d come down.

  Chapter 14

  “At least now we know why Monty told us what he did,” Bernie said, thinking of the conversation they’d had about her mother’s chicken.

  “Dad should have told us,” Libby said.

  “I can see why he didn’t want to.”

  “I can see, too. Poor Dad.”

  The sisters were on the other side of the kitchen, conversing in a low voice as they watched Perceval, Geoff, and Ralph pull Monty’s body out of the oven and wrap him in an old quilt Lexus had given them. It was a quilt, Bernie couldn’t help reflecting, that looked like something you’d wrap around furniture when you were moving.

  “Dad will survive,” Bernie told her.

  “But not happily,” Libby said.

  “That’s true,” Bernie replied.

  Libby didn’t comment. She was wondering where the three men were going to store Monty Field’s body.

  “I bet he’d rather be here,” Bernie continued.

  “Dad? Without a doubt,” Libby replied, refocusing on what her sister was saying. “I think he’d rather be in the middle of a firefight than there, given what you told me.”

  Bernie grinned. It was a well-known fact that her dad hated playing dominoes and checkers, but he reserved his special scorn for mah-jongg. Bernie remembered him saying, “A game for rich, spoiled old ladies who have nothing better to do.” Talk about karma. The idea of her dad playing that made her laugh out loud. “If my cell were working, I’d love to call and tell him I told him he shouldn’t go down there,” she told Libby.

  “Which would be cruel,” Libby said.

  “But satisfying.” Bernie gave her cell another glance. It was still a no-go. She made a face. “Unfortunately, it’s not an option.”

  Her reception had gone out right after Martha had hung up her dad’s phone, so she and Libby hadn’t been in touch with their dad since then. Not being able to talk to him made her nervous. Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t two. But since there was nothing she could do about it, she turned her attention back to the drama at hand.

  “So where are you taking him?” Bernie asked Geoff as she watched Geoff, Perceval, and Ralph trot by with Monty Field’s body wrapped in the quilt.

  “To the garage, of course,” Geoff replied. “Where did you think we were going to put him?”

  Bernie shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I thought you’d have him lying in state in his bedroom.”

  “Maybe we should do that,” Geoff said to Ralph, having missed the sarcasm in Bernie’s comment.

  “Hardly,” Ralph replied. “Lexus would have a fit.”

  “One of the other bedrooms?” Geoff said.

  “No. They’re all occupied. The garage is the only available space.”

  “Somehow it doesn’t seem very respectful.”

  “Well, it’s better than having your dad lying around the kitchen,” Perceval pointed out to Geoff.

  Geoff waffled. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Ralph snorted. “Come on,” he said to Geoff. “Let’s go. Monty’s getting heavy.”

  “That’s because he’s deadweight,” Perceval rejoined. “Don’t you get it,” Perceval said when no one laughed. “Deadweight. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  Geoff scowled. “That’s not funny, Perceval,” he said as he shifted his grip so he could get a better grasp on his father’s body.

  “You never did have a sense of humor, not even when you were a kid,” Perceval told him as the three men started walking again.

  “I laugh when something’s funny,” Geoff retorted. “And you’re not. Dad didn’t think you were, either.”

  “Your dad wouldn’t have recognized a joke if it came with a laugh track attached to it,” Perceval told Geoff as the men neared the door.

  “Just because he didn’t think that blowing up Lexus’s van with a bottle rocket was funny,” Geoff said.

  “Oh, please. Let’s not exaggerate. The van was just damaged a little. And, anyway, Geoff, it was your rocket.”

  “Yes, it was, but I wasn’t going to set it off.”

  “That’s not what you told Melissa,” Perceval replied.

  Bernie could see the color rising in Geoff’s cheeks.

  “By all means, take her word for it,” Geoff said. “She wouldn’t know the truth if it hit her in the head.”

  Ralph spoke before Perceval could answer. “Please, gentlemen,” he said, addressing both men. “Could you stop bickering and show a little respect.”

  “For Monty?” Perceval’s tone was incredulous. “Why? He never had any respect for me or for you, either, for that matter.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Geoff said.

  “I would,” Perceval replied. “Look what he did to us. If that doesn’t show a lack of respect, I don’t know what does.”

  “I have to agree,” said Ralph. “Treating us like we were kids. Making us account for every cent we spent. That was just wrong.”

  “Maybe he had a reason for doing that,” Geoff protested.

  “You can’t be serious,” Perceval retorted.

  “I am.”

  “Sure. The same way he made Alma account for every penny she spent,” Ralph observed.

  Geoff rubbed his hands together. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “Oh my God,” Perceval said. “Now you’re sounding just like him. Why are you defending him when he treated you like dirt, too?”

  But Bernie couldn’t hear Geoff’s reply, because by now the three men and the corpse were out in the hallway.

  “Ah, that’s what I love about the holidays,” Bernie said. “They always bring out the best in everyone.”

  “So it would seem,” her sister said. “So it would seem.”

  Chapter 15

  Libby took a tissue out of her shirt pocket and blew her nose.

  “I hope you’re not getting sick,” Bernie said. “Because if you are, please stay away from me.”

  “Lovely,” Libby replied when she was done blowing.

  “Well, you’d say the same thing,” Bernie countered.

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Fine, but you’d think it.”

  “That’s different from saying it.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s not as rude.”

  Bernie shook her head. “Let’s agree to disagree on this one,” she said. “Good,” Bernie said when Libby nodded. Then she said, “I wonder if Perceval and Ralph really over-spent or if Monty was just being incredibly cheap.”

  “Well,” Libby replied, “we know that Monty was a skinflint. Look at this house. There are the public areas and the private areas, and he spent no money in the private areas. At all.”

  “Agreed,” Bernie said, studying at the kitchen again. “If what they said is true, it had to be difficult for Perceval and Ralph to live like that,” she mused. “Having to account to your brother for every cent you spent.”

  “I certainly would find it demeaning,” Libby said.

  “But demeaning enough to murder someone?”

  “Absolutely,” Libby said. “People have killed people for a lot less, as you know. Things build up and up, especially if you work with someone day after day. And you have that whole family history going on. That never helps.”

  “What do you think about trying to put the blame on us?” Bernie asked Libby.

  “I think it’s a really lame move,” Libby said. “I think it’s the move of someone who is not well grounded in reality.”

  “And yet the whole family seems to be falling in with it.”

  “And why not?” Libby said. “It’s convenient. If it flies, fine, and if it doesn’t, they haven’t lost anything. It’s a distraction.”

  “True.” Bernie checked her reception again. There was still no service. Something occurred to her. “Have you seen a regular phone around here?” she asked Libby. If there was, she could use that to call her dad.

  Libby thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, no.”

  “So we’re really on our own,” Bernie observed.

  “Apparently so. See?” Libby said. “Sometimes new technology isn’t the best.”

  Bernie opened her mouth and closed it again. This wasn’t the time to get into an argument about the need for a new, computerized cash register. They could do that back at the shop. For a moment both sisters were silent while they thought about their predicament.

  “It could be days before we get out of here,” Libby said, breaking the silence.

  “Well, a day,” Bernie, always the more optimistic of the two, replied. “At least we have food and a place to sleep.”

  Libby rebuttoned her sweater. “And a corpse in the garage.”

  “Nothing is perfect.”

  “Very funny, Bernie.”

  “But it’s true. I hate to say this, but I’m kinda glad Monty’s out of the kitchen,” Bernie said.

  “Actually, I am, too,” Libby admitted. “The thought of looking at him whenever I had to go in here was freaking me out.”

  “Not that we should be going in here and contaminating the crime scene,” Bernie said.

  Libby chewed on the inside of her lip. “It’s already contaminated, what with everyone trooping in and out of here.”

  Bernie took another look around the kitchen. It was truly beyond bleak. She was willing to bet that Monty’s first wife had never set foot in the place, and she was certain that Lexus never had.

  “I would hate to work here,” Libby said, echoing Bernie’s thoughts.

  “Me too,” Bernie agreed. “Some pictures on the walls would help.”

  “And a paint job.”

  “And new counters and a backsplash.”

  “In fact,” Libby said, “ripping the whole thing out and starting over would help.” She nodded toward a lower cabinet drawer. “I wonder why Monty never followed the plans he had drawn up that we found.”

  “Probably cost too much money,” Bernie said.

  “Probably,” Libby echoed. “So, now what?”

  “Now we find out who killed Monty.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “No. I’m figuring we’ll just shake things up and see what happens.”

  “I’d feel better with a plan.”

  “I know you would, but this is the best I can come up with at the moment. Or we could just sit around by the fire and toast some marshmallows and wait for enlightenment,” Bernie said.

  “That’s what we would be doing if we were home,” Libby said.

  “Waiting for enlightenment?”

  “Toasting marshmallows. If we were home, we could even make the marshmallows.”

  Bernie laughed. “Now, that’s going a little overboard.”

  “But they are better,” Libby insisted. She had made a couple of batches last winter and was thinking of making some again. They really were a different animal from the store-bought ones. They were different enough that she thought she might have a market for them. “I tell you one thing,” she continued. “I certainly wouldn’t want to sit around the fire with the Field clan.”

  Bernie laughed again. “Why? Because they’re such lovely, warm people?”

  “Yup. They’re just a delightful group,” Libby said. “So who do you think is the guilty party?”

  “It could be anyone, although Geoff seemed pretty upset about his father’s death. Maybe too upset,” Bernie observed.

  “True,” Libby said, thinking back. “He was a little over the top, especially considering the way his dad spoke to him about our van. And he was really pissed at him about that.”

  “He doesn’t conceal his emotions well, does he?” Bernie noted.

  “Not at all,” Libby agreed. “On the other hand, I keep coming back to the fact that Ralph and Perceval were the ones that ordered the turkey….”

  “Yes, but everyone knew that. And everyone knew about Monty’s habit of tapping on the pop-up button,” Bernie replied.

 

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