Spooky Trills Read online

  “There are no competing duck farmers,” said Dorritt. “We’re the only duck farm for miles around, and one of the last ones on Long Island. Duck farming is a dying business, and…” She hesitated.

  “It’s all right,” said Bettina. “You can tell us everything. We promise to be discreet.”

  There was a soft snorting sound which seemed to emanate from Rock, who stood shamelessly listening in on our conversation. I fixed him with a disapproving eye, which he totally ignored.

  “I know,” said Dorritt. “I know I can trust you ladies. Especially you, Mabel,” she added, placing a hand on Mabel’s arm. “Do you think the Mayor will get personally involved in this investigation?”

  As the mayoral secretary, to some people Mabel actually was the mayor, as she did a lot of the work involved, Mayor MacDonald not exactly the most dynamic mayor Happy Bays had ever had.

  “I’m sure he will,” said Mabel. “Banning was a pillar of society, and I’m sure I can convince the Mayor to award him the freedom of the city. Posthumously, of course.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” said Dorritt warmly. “Banning would have liked that.” Then her face clouded. “With him gone, I’ll have to sell the farm, of course.”

  “Your boys aren’t interested in stepping in?” asked Bettina.

  “Oh, no. They’re not the least bit interested in duck farming. Never were. Which was one of the reasons Banning was thinking about selling the farm and spending the boys’ inheritance. He called it skiing. Spending the kids’ inheritance. He said they didn’t deserve it and we certainly did.”

  I exchanged a quick look with Fee, and she nodded. Better to rip off the Band-Aid, no matter how much it might hurt. “I heard that Banning was thinking about relocating to Las Vegas after he sold the farm,” I said. “That he wanted to become a full-time Elvis Presley tribute artist. Is that true?”

  Tears sprang to the poor woman’s eyes but then she nodded. “Yes. It was true. Even though I didn’t approve, Banning was going to go through with it. Being Elvis was his life. And now he wanted to do it full-time.”

  “So were you going to follow him to Las Vegas?” I asked.

  There was a momentary silence while everybody pricked up their ears. Even Rock was leaning in, trying to catch the widow’s response. Finally, she said, “I hadn’t decided yet. You see, this was Banning’s dream mostly. Not mine.”

  “So you didn’t see yourself as his Priscilla?” I asked, half joking.

  But she wasn’t smiling. She shook her head curtly. I’d obviously touched a nerve. “No, I wasn’t Banning’s Priscilla. Not by a long shot.”

  The Holy Trinity exchanged knowing glances, and would probably have asked a lot more personal questions if not at that moment three cars arrived on the scene, not unlike the way Bettina, Mabel and Marjorie had arrived themselves. Only these were not three Mini Coopers but three SUVs.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Looks like the Secret Service has arrived.”

  “No, they’re just my boys,” said Dorritt, a smile lighting up her face. If the relationship between Banning and his sons had been strained, it was obvious the mother-son bond was still very much intact.

  The three young men got out of their respective vehicles and strutted up. They seemed annoyed, for some reason, and I wondered why. I didn’t have long to wait. They joined us and instantly ended our interview with Dorritt Pender.

  “From now on you only talk to the police, Mom,” the first son exclaimed the moment he reached us. He was a tall and handsome young man, and I recognized him as Jack from Jack’s Joint fame. Unlike those times when we’d exchanged pleasant banter across the counter of his bar, he was scowling at me, and the smile I’d plastered on my face upon seeing him was wiped away as with a squeegee. “I’m warning you, Alice,” he said now, wagging his finger in my face. “I won’t have you and that dreadful old wives’ club of yours terrorizing my mother into a decline.” Mabel, Bettina and Marjorie erupted into howls of exasperation, but he cut them off. “I mean it. I won’t have my father’s reputation tarnished by a bunch of scandalmongers.”

  “Well, I never,” Marjorie huffed, clutching at her pea-green coat. “I’ve never been so insulted my entire life! Virgil! Do something!”

  Virgil opened his lips, but then closed them again. What could he do? Arrest Jack Pender for insulting his mother? Not very likely.

  “Jack’s right,” his brother agreed. He was a heavyset man with a round face and a few sprigs of butter-colored hair on top. I recognized him as Carney, the nearly broke insurance broker. “We don’t need a bunch of busybodies sticking their noses where they don’t belong. No more statements from you, Mother. From now on, we will only talk to the cops.”

  I saw that a tiny smile had crept up Rock’s face. The detective seemed to think the scene exceedingly funny. When I stuck my tongue out in his direction, he said, “Very mature, Alice.”

  “What about you, Kelley?” asked Mabel. “Are you going to allow your brothers to derail this investigation?”

  “Derail?” scoffed Kelley, who was a tan man with narrow, lined face and the most penetrating blue eyes. He looked a little like Daniel Craig of James Bond fame, if Daniel Craig had played a used car salesman and not the world’s most famous secret agent. “If anyone is derailing this investigation it’s you. Every time something happens in this town you just have to start meddling and making a mess of things, don’t you? I want you off my family’s property right now. The lot of you. You have no business here. And if you ever come near my mother again, I’ll sue you for trespassing. Is that clear?”

  “You can’t do this,” said Mabel. “We only have your family’s best interests at heart.”

  “You only have your own best interests at heart,” said Jack. “Kelley is right. Please remove yourselves from our property right now.”

  “Dorritt?” asked Mabel. “Do you agree with your sons?”

  Dorritt shrugged.

  “Dorritt?” Mabel insisted. “Remember the Freedom of the City.”

  Dorritt hesitated, but then her three sons moved in front of her, effectively shielding her off from us. “Beat it,” said Kelley. “The lot of you.”

  “This is an outrage,” Marjorie fulminated. “You’ll be sorry, young man. Mark my words. You’ll be very, very sorry!”

  “No, you’ll be sorry if you ever bother my family again,” Carney said.

  “Come on, ladies,” said Bettina. “We don’t want to be where we’re not wanted.”

  “Well said,” said Mabel, directing a nasty glare at the three young men. “If they don’t want to know who murdered their father, it’s their loss.”

  We stalked off, stared after by Dorritt and her three sons, Rock standing to the side and watching our departure with a mixture of glee and regret on his face. After the way we’d solved the Gemma Weston murder, I imagined he wasn’t making fun of the capacity of the watch to solve crime anymore. And even though he might feel we were just a bunch of nosy women, I liked to think he knew we were so much more than that.

  “Let’s meet at Bell’s,” Mabel suggested. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  We all assented, and got into our respective cars. After a last glance at the Pender Duck Farm, we drove off. If the Pender boys thought we were going to drop this investigation, they were sorely mistaken. The watch never gives up. The watch… watches. Now how lame did that sound? Pretty darn lame. Well, I am a mortician’s assistant, not a writer, so sue me.

  Chapter 8

  As agreed, we convened at Bell’s, which was the watch’s customary hangout. It was a way to mix business with pleasure, as Mabel had once put it, since we were all crazy about the kinds of pastries Bell’s had to offer. Not to mention the gallons of coffee that freely flowed here, since both Mabel and Marjorie were great coffee connoisseurs. Not that they actually knew a lot about coffee, mind you. They just loved to drink it.

  We descended upon our usual seat in the corner, near the window, and allowed Busby, who i
s Bettina’s son and Fee’s cousin, to serve us a variety of scones.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the fitness club, Busby?” asked Mabel while she picked out a scone.

  “This afternoon,” he said. “I’m working two jobs today.”

  He was a heavily muscled young man, with a buzzcut and a genial demeanor.

  “Oh, aren’t you the hard worker,” said Marjorie.

  “Thanks, Marjorie,” he said pleasantly. “Can I get you something else, Mom?” he asked Bettina.

  “No, I’m fine, honey. But would you be a dear and tell your dad I might run a little late tonight?”

  “Will do,” said Busby, and promptly turned on his heel and slammed into a supporting pole. “Hey,” he said, scowling dazedly at the offending pole and rubbing his brow. “When did they put this here?”

  Bettina shook her head. Busby might be the nicest amongst her three sons, but he hadn’t stood first in line when God had doled out the brains.

  “So about this Banning Pender murder,” said Mabel, eager to get down to business. “I think it’s a disgrace the way those three boys of Dorritt’s are bullying her. It’s made me see them in an entirely new light.”

  “The light of suspicion,” Marjorie agreed while taking a sip from her cup of coffee.

  “I think they’re just being protective,” said Fee. She was darting anxious glances at her mother, who was still manning the counter.

  “You can sit here with us for another few minutes,” Bettina told her. “I’m sure Bianca won’t mind holding the fort a little while longer.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Fee, who’s nothing if not conscientious.

  “Besides, Busby is here now, so it’s not as if my sister has to do all the running around,” Bettina added. We watched Busby as he careened through the room carrying two trays, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. He looked like he was about to run into another pole and drop the lot. “On second thought,” Bettina said, “maybe we better make this quick.”

  “What do we know so far?” I asked, taking the meeting in hand.

  “We know that Banning Pender buried a shitcrap of money on that farm of his,” said Marjorie.

  We all looked at her, aghast. “Marjorie! Language!” Mabel exclaimed.

  “What? It’s English.”

  “It’s also very vulgar!”

  “It’s not vulgar. It’s modern,” she said primly.

  Marjorie had recently been trying to infuse her prose with some more contemporary expressions in a bid to keep up with a new colleague who’d joined her at the library. This new colleague was a young woman who was a lot hipper and cooler than the middle-aged librarian, and Marjorie obviously felt the need to compete.

  “Let’s go over the facts,” I suggested. “Jack, Carney and Kelley all needed a lot of money. Jack because he wants to expand his bar, Carney because he’s on the verge of going broke, and Kelley because nobody’s buying what he has to sell. So why would that be a motive for murder?”

  “Because with the old man gone, they can dig up that money, and keep it for themselves,” said Bettina. “Didn’t you hear Dorritt? Banning was a huge proponent of the SKI theory: Spending your Kids’ Inheritance. He was going to spend it all until there was nothing left.”

  “But why couldn’t they dig it up while their dad was alive?” asked Fee. Then she got it. “Oh, of course. He wouldn’t have liked it when his sons took possession of his entire life’s savings.”

  “I think we’ve got three very fine suspects right there,” said Marjorie. “I’ll bet those three sons of witches did it.”

  “Marjorie!” Mabel cried. “Language!”

  “It’s in the dictionary,” Marjorie said through gritted teeth. “Look it up!”

  “Actually it’s not sons of witches,” I said, but then decided perhaps Marjorie didn’t need to know. “So you think they all did it? Or one of them?”

  Marjorie hesitated. She’d obviously not thought this through.

  “I think one of them did it, but they all were in on it,” said Bettina. “And I’ll bet if you talk to them, they’ll provide each other with alibis. That’s how killers always operate.”

  “You almost sound as if you’re planning to murder someone yourself,” said Mabel with a laugh.

  “Just spitballing,” said Bettina, darting a murderous look at Marjorie.

  “And that’s exactly why they didn’t want us around,” said Marjorie. “Those three little shits—”

  “Marjorie!” Mabel exclaimed.

  “Those three knuckleheads murdered their father and they won’t allow us to find out about it.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll bet they killed him, then drove off to hide the murder weapon and they got back just in time to kick us off the property.”

  “It all sounds very plausible in theory,” I agreed, “but how do we prove it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Marjorie. “But I’d give my right bunion to give those three—” She darted a quick look at Mabel, who was eyeing her warningly. “—men a good whupping.”

  “Whupping?” asked Bettina. “Really?”

  “It’s in—”

  “The dictionary. Yes, we get it,” said Fee.

  Bianca had walked up with a pot of coffee. “Refill, ladies?” she asked. She looked worried. “So how were things at the Pender Farm?”

  “Nobody tried to shoot us, Mom,” Fee assured her. “We’re all quite safe.”

  “Good,” said Bianca. “So what have you found out so far?”

  “That the three Pender sons don’t like nosy parkers,” I said. “They told us to take a hike.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Bianca, looking perturbed. “That wasn’t very nice of them now was it?”

  “And just when Dorritt was about to tell us some very interesting things about her late husband, too,” said Bettina. “Like the fact that Banning was thinking about selling up and moving to Las Vegas.”

  “And that Dorritt wasn’t very happy about it,” Mabel cut in.

  “Well, I’m sure she wasn’t telling you the whole story,” said Bianca. She abruptly plunked down on a seat and put the pot of coffee on the table. She dropped her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper. “Dorritt Pender was having an affair.”

  “She wasn’t!” cried Fee.

  “Hush, Fee!” Bianca hissed. “We don’t want everyone to know about it.”

  “An affair?” asked Marjorie, looking disappointed. Now here was a little tidbit of gossip she wasn’t aware of, which obviously stung. “With who?”

  “Whom,” Bettina corrected her. “It’s in the dictionary,” she added when Marjorie fixed her with a dirty look. “Look it up.”

  “I don’t know the man’s name. All I know is that he’s some sort of developer. The kind that builds those huge golf courses and resorts. I also heard he and Dorritt were thinking about turning the duck farm into a golf course the moment Banning moved to Vegas to pursue his singing career.”

  “Singing career,” Marjorie scoffed. “He was just a two-bit impersonator.”

  “Yes, he wasn’t much of a singer,” I said, remembering the footage Uncle Charlie had shown me.

  “So maybe Dorritt and this mysterious lover of hers couldn’t wait to get Banning out of their way and decided to bump him off?” asked Mabel excitedly.

  “It’s possible,” I admitted. “Now that Banning is gone the farm will probably go to Dorritt, to do with as she pleases.”

  “To turn into a golf course,” said Fee excitedly. “Oh, my God, you guys,” she said, patting the table. “I think we just solved the murder!”

  We all laughed and snapped up another scone to celebrate.

  “Are you sure you won’t join the watch, Mrs. Bell?” I asked Bianca. “You’re aces.”

  “Oh, I’m very sure,” said Bianca, who had at certain pivotal moments in the history of the watch sat in on our meeting and given us invaluable assistance. “All this murder and mayhem.” She shivered audibly. “Nothing for me, I’m afraid.�
� She then cast a keen look at Fee. “Far too dangerous. Especially when you’re thinking about starting a family.”

  Fee rolled her eyes. “Mom, we talked about this.”

  “Are you finally getting married to Rick?” asked Mabel.

  “We’re not getting married,” said Fee. “We were, but that’s all off.”

  All eyes turned to me, and I groaned. “Don’t look at me. It’s not my fault Reece decided to dump me. Besides, Fee doesn’t need my approval to get married. She can get married whenever she wants.”

  “Thanks, Alice,” said Fee acerbically. “That’s just what Mom wanted to hear.”

  “It is,” said Bianca. “See, honey? You don’t have to wait for Alice. You can get married right now if you’d like. Your dad and I will chip in. We always said we would, and we’re not going to let you down. We’ll hold the party right here.”

  “Here at Bell’s?” asked Fee, sounding disappointed. When you have your heart set on getting married on Richard Branson’s private Caribbean fairy tale island, Bell’s Bakery is something of a letdown.

  “Of course at Bell’s,” said Mabel. “We’ll throw you a great wedding.”

  “I’d have to discuss it with Rick,” said Fee uncertainly. She locked eyes with me. Now that she might be pregnant, getting married had obviously shifted to a higher position on her list of things to do.

  “So you might do it?” asked Mabel, pressing a hand to her heart.

  Fee shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll have to discuss it with Rick first.”

  I regarded her with mixed emotions. We’d always said we’d get married together, only without a fiancé it was kinda hard for me to strut up to the altar alongside my longtime friend. I gave her a weak smile. I was happy for her, of course, and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of her happiness, but this wasn’t what we’d always dreamed of.

  “We’ll see,” Fee said, returning my smile.

  Just then, there was something of a commotion as suddenly the cell phones of pretty much everybody in the tea room simultaneously chimed. We all took them out with a puzzled frown. Had something happened?

  I saw I’d received a message from someone I didn’t know. It contained a link so I clicked it. A video came up, and when I looked closer, I recognized the person in the video as… Marjorie! She must have gotten the same link, for she drew in a sharp breath.