his nose.
“Sorry,” he finally said. “Bernice was the best thing that ever happened to me. We were going to be married as soon as her divorce from Stanley came through.”
Josh appeared at Maggie's side with a trayload of desserts.
“Good timing,” Maggie snapped. But she went ahead and selected a piece of cherry-covered cheesecake. I shook my head and Josh left.
Maggie turned her full attention to dessert. I turned mine back to Vernell.
“You were going to be married?”
“You sound surprised.”
“It's only that… how can I put this nicely?… Bernice appeared to be quite a bit older.”
“Not as much as everybody liked to think,” Vernell said, acknowledging that he was well aware of the local gossip. “She was only forty, and I'm twenty-six.”
It seemed to me that a good many years had passed since Bernice blew out forty candles on her birthday cake, but I refrained from saying so.
“You look younger than that,” I said.
“I work out.”
I'd have bet my life on that! “This is such a nice place. Now that Bernice is gone, will you be able to keep it going?”
He sat back in his chair and stared coldly at me. “Are you implying that Bernice paid for all this?” His voice rose high with indignation, and several people turned to stare at us. “What do you think I am? Some sort of gigolo?”
There didn't seem to be an appropriate answer for that question, so I kept quiet.
“Since you're not local, you probably are not aware of the Kaltenbaugh Family Foundation.”
“I can't say I am.” Once again, my outsider status was being thrown in my face. Not only had I never heard of it, I couldn't even pronounce it.
Maggie looked up with interest. “Kaltenbaugh Foundation? Doesn't that own half of Pittsburgh?”
Vernell nodded. “It was established by my greatgrandfather.”
“I guess you're telling me that Bernice didn't back you financially,” I said.
“Hardly. As a matter-of-fact, the foundation was looking into buying her property and building the cultural center she wanted so badly.” He pushed up from his chair and glared down at Maggie. “You can tell your grapevine informants that they were way off this time.”
When he was out of earshot, Maggie let out a little yip. “We sure were wrong about him.”
“We don't know that he was telling the truth,” I pointed out.
“I'll check out his story this afternoon,” she promised. “As well-known as the Kaltenbaugh Foundation is in Pennsylvania, I'm sure I'll have no trouble finding out if he's really part of it. I'll let you know what I uncover.”
“Even if Bernice's money wasn't the motive, there still could have been other reasons why he'd want her out of the way,” I said. But my suspicions that Vernell had murdered Bernice were vanishing as fast as Maggie's cheesecake.
“Got to get back to work,” Maggie said, looking around for Josh. “Where's a waiter when you need one? For goodness’ sake, there's Luscious Miller-coming our way. Wonder what he wants here?”
As the deputy strode across the room, it was clear what Luscious wanted was me. Out of breath, he plopped down on the chair recently vacated by Vernell Kaltenbaugh and pulled off his hat.
“What's up?” I asked.
He tried to answer but only emitted a series of wheezes. “Sorry,” he said at last. “Riding that bike in cold weather always brings on my asthma.”
I handed him my untouched water glass, and he slowly sipped from it until the worst of the wheezing stopped.
“I wanted to tell you I just received the coroner's report on Oretta. She didn't die in the fire.”
“Of course she did, Luscious. I saw her body.”
“I know she's dead, Tori. What I meant is she didn't die
“People often don't burn to death in a fire, Luscious. They suffocate.”
“I'm not totally stupid, you know.”
I was ashamed of myself for assuming he was always inept. “What was it, then?”
“Henry says she was shot in the head. And, Tori, there was no gun on the scene. Me and the firemen have gone over every inch of the ruins.”
“Of course there wasn't,” Maggie said. “Oretta was scared to death of guns. Wouldn't allow one in her house. Even made Matavious keep his hunting rifles at his office.”
No matter what I thought of Henry Hoopengartner's lack of qualifications to be a coroner, I knew even he could recognize a bullet hole. “Was he able to say what kind of gun was used?”
Luscious shook his head. “Body's been sent to Harris-burg for an autopsy. I'll let you'uns know soon as I get the report.”
“Luscious, have you found out where Matavious was last night?” I asked.
“He won't talk to me.”
“That's terrible. Can't you make him?”
“You can't make people talk to the police, Tori. Even if we charged him with murder, he still has the right to remain silent.”
Maggie looked up from wiping the crumbs off her blouse. “And Bernice was murdered, too! Tori, you could be in danger!”
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“Don't you see? Bernice and Oretta played sugar plum fairies in the Christmas pageant. And they were both murdered. Tori, you were the third sugar plum fairy. You could be the next victim!”
CHAPTER 14
OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT, MAGGIE HUGGED me good-bye as if I were sailing on the
“Don't worry about me,” I told her. “I really doubt there's a serial killer around with a grudge against sugar plum fairies.”
After she left, I pulled up my hood against the cold wind and considered my options for the afternoon. Now that the weekly paper was on its way to the printer, my time was free-at least for the rest of the day.
Maggie's remark about my being in danger because of my part in the play had struck me as rather silly, but now, as I thought about it, it didn't seem quite as preposterous. However, it also occurred to me that I'd only been a substitute for the real sugar plum fairy-Weezie Clopper.
I needed to talk to Weezie anyway about her letter to the editor, with misspellings in it similar to the ones in poor Bernice's “death threat.” I headed back to the
“What Cloppers is that?” asked the teenager at the gas station where I stopped for five gallons of overpriced gasoline and some free directions.
“Weezie and Jackson,” I said, hopeful he'd know whom I was talking about.
“Oh, sure, the Jackson what's the borough manager.” He painfully counted out my change and gave me directions in typical Lickin Creek style. “Take the Old Mill Road south for about three miles, look for the burnt maple tree. It'll either be on your left or your right. Turn there onto Orphanage Road, go about a mile to where the fruit stand used to be, then watch for the Hillside Mennonite Church. Hang a left at the cemetery, go past the Martin Farm-or maybe it's the Mellott Farm-till you get to the dirt lane. That's the Clopper place. You can't miss it.”
