CHAPTER 20
“That was weird,” said Lucy after O’Hara had gone.
Ted didn’t answer. He grunted and started flipping through the stack of papers on his desk. Then he shoved them aside, pushed his chair back and stood up.
“I’m going out for some fresh air,” he said, dropping the stack of papers in front of her. “Would you mind typing in these listings for me?”
Lucy figured Ted had had enough for one day and needed to get away from the office for awhile.
“No problem,” she said.
Once he’d gone, however, she realized it would take hours to go through the stack of press releases announcing club meetings and used-book sales and holiday bazaars. She was struggling to decipher a particularly confusing notice about an amateur production of Amahl and the Night Visitors when the phone rang. It was Miss Tilley.
“I wondered if you’d like to join Rachel and me for lunch,” the old woman purred.
Rachel worked as a part-time caregiver for the old woman, driving and cooking for her.
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got too much work to do.”
“That’s too bad. Rachel and I were hoping you could give us an update on your investigation.”
Lucy squirmed in her seat, remembering her conversation with Lieutenant Horowitz.
“I don’t have much to tell you,” she said. “In fact, I’ve been so busy—”
“You can’t fool me, Lucy Stone,” snapped the old woman. “I know you must have some idea by now of who killed Curt.”
“Oh, I have some ideas,” said Lucy. “But I think I’d better keep them to myself for the time being.”
“I wouldn’t tell a soul,” coaxed Miss Tilley.
Lucy glanced around the empty office. She was dying to discuss her thoughts with someone, and Miss Tilley was a gold mine of local knowledge.
“My lips will remain sealed,” continued Miss Tilley.
“I know you’ll tell Rachel,” said Lucy.
“Well, Rachel won’t tell anyone either. She’s married to a lawyer and she’s used to keeping secrets. She’s nodding in agreement as we speak, and making a sign of zipping her lips.”
Lucy chuckled. “This is just an idea, now. I don’t have any real evidence. But it does seem that one person has benefitted from Nolan’s death more than anyone else. It’s the cui bona thing.”
“Bear Sykes!” exclaimed Miss Tilley, confirming Lucy’s suspicions. “I just knew it!” Then she added, “Rachel thinks so, too.”
“This is just a hunch.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s obvious when you think about it. He’s always had a power complex, and Curt Nolan was the one person who stood in his way as tribal leader.”
“He’s definitely in charge now,” said Lucy. “He’s really been throwing his weight around, you know.”
“I’m not at all surprised. Why, I remember when he was a little boy. He wasn’t much of a reader, you know, but he was looking for a topic for a research paper. It had to be about a famous person who changed history. I suggested Eisenhower, the supreme allied commander and such a dear man, too—but Bear wasn’t interested. He said he’d rather write about John Wayne and wanted books about him.”
“John Wayne? Isn’t that an odd choice, considering Bear is a Native American?”
“Now that you mention it, I guess it is. Of course, I had to tell him that John Wayne was only an actor, that he hadn’t really changed history.” She paused. “I finally suggested Napoleon and Bear really got interested. For a while there he was constantly asking for books about Napoleon. Such a horrid little man, I’ve always thought, but Bear absolutely adored him.”
“I wonder why,” said Lucy.
Miss Tilley spoke slowly. “I suspect it was the fact that Napoleon was ultimately defeated but was still considered a great general.”
“Like Geronimo and Sitting Bull?” Lucy said.
“I think so.”
“Well, he’s certainly acting like Napoleon now. He’s turning the tribe into something like the Mafia.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Miss Tilley. “Do you think the police suspect him?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Lucy.
“Maybe you could help them. Isn’t there some way you could get evidence?”
“I can’t think how.”
“Search his house or something.”
“You want me to break and enter?” Lucy was astonished. “That’s illegal. What if I got caught?”
Miss Tilley clucked her tongue. “What’s happened to you, Lucy Stone? You used to much bolder, you know.”
“Let’s say I’m older and wiser, unlike some people I know.”
Miss Tilley wasn’t about to give up. “If you applied yourself, I’m sure you could trick him into confessing.”
“And how would I do that without risking my neck? You know, I have a family and they depend on me.”
Miss Tilley didn’t answer immediately, but Lucy could have sworn she heard her wheels turning through the telephone line.
“Use the telephone! Like that Linda Tripp person. Record him and take the tape to the police.”
“That’s illegal—they’ve filed charges against her, you know.”
Miss Tilley sighed. “It was just an idea. You’re probably not clever enough to trick him into confessing anyway.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Lucy.
“I have to go. Rachel says lunch is ready—it’s shrimp wiggle today,” said Miss Tilley, naming a favorite dish of Lucy’s.
“You have absolutely no mercy,” said Lucy.
She hung up and picked up the next press release. It was for a square dance, and although it gave more information than she needed about callers and cuers, it didn’t state the time of the dance. Fortunately, there was a phone number so Lucy called it.
While she listened to the rings, Lucy noticed there was a record button on her phone. She pushed it just as the other party answered.
She got the information she needed, hung up, and dialed the code for the message system. Sure enough, she’d recorded the entire conversation. That was interesting, she thought, wondering if she dared call Bear Sykes, when the phone rang. She recognized Jack O’Hara’s voice.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but Ted’s not here. You can leave a message if you want.”
“Actually, it’s you I want to talk to,” he said.
Lucy rolled her eyes; didn’t this guy
