"That'll be up to the prosecutor... If you ask me, there was bad blood on her mother's side." "I assume Emory answered questions cooperatively." "Best damned suspect we've ever had! Answered questions before we asked 'em. His sister knew about the hoax; they were in touch all the time she was in Boston, and after Dr. Hal died, she sent Emory money once a month. He didn't come for his dad's funeral last June; he came expecting to collect his inheritance in instant cash. When that didn't work out, Melinda told him another way to get rich quick: Get rid of Mrs. Duncan." So that was the plot! Qwilleran realized in horror.
Murder, not ransom!
His expression caused Brodie to say, "Sit down. Have a cup of coffee.
" Qwilleran took his advice.
"Melinda had always wanted to marry into the Klingenschoen fortune. She hounded me all summer and halfway across Scotland. Last Sunday, Emory again failed to grab Polly, as you know. The next night, Melinda showed up at the barn after rehearsal, and she was playing America's Sweetheart, without the curls. I couldn't fathom her motive. Now I know. She was plotting with Emory to kidnap one of my cats! For ransom! That woman needs help!" After his visit with Brodie he stopped at the drug store to buy a few items and chat with the pharmacist, a young man more congenial than the crabby old pill counter who used to be on duty in the prescription cage. Then he went home to brush the cats.
Only then did he realize what it would have been like to lose Yum Yum--not to have her pawing his pant leg, reaching up for his moustache, and croodling--worse still, not to know her whereabouts or her fate. Koko himself had not fully recovered from the trauma of the night before; he prowled incessantly and muttered to himself.
"Shall we listen to some tapes?" Qwilleran asked, and Koko ran to the desk, yowling with anticipation. Either he had added "tape" to his vocabulary or he was reading Qwilleran's mind. Of the tapes recorded before Melinda left Scotland, one segment in particular caught Koko's attention--a brief exchange between Polly and Melinda: "I didn't know she had a bad heart. She never mentioned her symptoms, and we were the best of friends." "She was too proud to admit to any frailty, and too independent to take my advice or even medication.
It could have saved her." Qwilleran thought, If Irma refused to take medication, there would be no prescription to foul up; we'll know more about this when Polly's sister-in-law checks Irma's records. Farther along on the same tape were the voices of, first, the Lanspeaks and then the MacWhannells: "Do you realize, folks, how lucky we are to have Melinda along on this trip?" "Irma was coming down with something at the castle today.
I told Larry it sounded like laryngitis." "I knew someone who dropped dead of a sore throat. It's a freak disease--some kind of syndrome." "Daddy, you suspected something was wrong last night, didn't you?" "You're right, Mother... It so happened we were playing a table game with Polly and Dwight, and I went upstairs to get a sweater for Glenda.
We had room No. One, and the girls had Nine and Eleven at the end of the hall. I saw Melinda come out of Eleven and scoot right into her own room. I started to speak to her, but she was preoccupied. I told Glenda right then that Irma must be ill." Qwilleran thought, Yes, but... Irma was out on the moor with Bruce and came in late, according to Polly, so Eleven was empty, because Polly was in the lounge.
"Yowl" said Koko, who seemed to enjoy MacWhannell's chesty voice. The time came to drive Polly to the Distinguished Women's banquet in the New Pickax Hotel, an event subsidized by XYZ Enterprises with proceeds going to the Pickax Hospital for an intensive care unit. She looked stunning in her blue batwing cape and peacock feather brooch, and he told her so. She wanted to know more about the burglar and the hoax, but he assured her that everything had been reported in the newspaper.
The loitering charge, he said, indicated that Emory was the Boulevard Prowler. After dropping her off, he went to the theatre to have another look at Macbeth. He wanted to see if the actors felt more comfortable in their roles and whether Dwight had taken his advice about the dagger. Aware that he could not stay for the entire performance, he slipped into an unsold seat in the back row. The lights dimmed, and an unwelcome voice came through the speakers--the anonymous voice that announces changes in the cast, usually to everyone's disappointment.
"In tonight's performance the role of Lady Macbeth will be played by Jennifer Olson, and the role of Lady Macduff will be played by Carol Lanspeak. Thank you." There were murmurs in the audience and at least one squeal of delight from some friend of Jennifer's. To Qwilleran the substitution raised an urgent question, and at intermission he went backstage to hunt down Dwight Somers.
"Where's Melinda?" he asked.
"I don't know," said the director.
"When she didn't report by seven-fifteen, I called her clinic, and the answering machine said they were closed until nine tomorrow morning.
Then I called her apartment; no answer. We both live in the Village, you know, and there's an elderly neighbor who knows everything that goes on. I phoned her, and she said that Melinda's car had been in and out of the parking lot all day, but now it was gone again. I even called the police about a possible accident. Nothing! So I decided to go ahead with Jennifer. How's she doing?" "Not bad, under the circumstances." "I heard about Melinda's brother. She must be really upset. That's the only reason I can imagine why she wouldn't show, but she should have notified us." The stage manager was calling "Five minutes," and Qwilleran returned to the auditorium. He stayed through the sleepwalking scene, then slipped out. The banquet would be over. When he picked up his passenger, she was carrying a large flat box.
"I received an award for public service," she said.
"It's a very tasteful plaque." "Congratulations! Recognition is long overdue," he assured her.
"What did they serve for dinner? Not chicken cordon bleu, I hope." "No, some other kind of chicken. It wasn't bad. Of course, the sole topic of conversation was the return of Emory Goodwinter." "Naturally. How many awards were presented?" "Ten. It was a tearful moment when Mrs. Hasselrich accepted Irma's posthumous award for volunteerism. Melinda received the health-care award, and a hospital official accepted it, since Melinda had to be at the theatre." "Correction. She was not at the theatre," Qwilleran said.
"Her role was filled by the Olson girl." "Oh, dear!" Polly said sympathetically.
"Melinda must be devastated by the unpleasant publicity!" "Mmmm," he agreed without conviction.
"Who else won a plaque?" "Oh, let me tell you the sensation of the evening," she said, laughing.
"Lori Bamba, as secretary of the auxiliary, was the presenter, and she was wearing a batwing cape just like mine, but in violet. When Fran Brodie went up for the arts award, she had the same thing in green!
Mildred Hanstable received the education award, and she was wearing one in royal blue. Finally, Hixie Rice had it in taupe. We stood on the platform in a row looking like a malapropos chorus line--tall, short, plump, thin--but all with batwing capes and peacock brooches! The whole room was in a screaming uproar that simply wouldn't stop until the hotel manager rang the fire bell." "It just proves," Qwilleran said, "that I know a lot of distinguished women." Polly invited him up to her apartment for coffee and cake, and they were welcomed by Bootsie, who had the brassy voice of a trumpet.
"How's old Gaspard?" Qwilleran greeted him.
"Really, Qwill, you treat him with such disrespect," she complained.
"He treats me with disrespect. I think he's jealous." "I think you're jealous, dear." She started the coffee brewing and cut a large wedge of chocolate cake for him and a sliver for herself.
After the first few bites he asked casually, "How did your sisterin-law feel about my request?" "She said it was highly irregular, but she agreed to bring Irma's records to me at the banquet, provided she could return them early in the morning." "And?" "Tonight she informed me that the folder has been removed from the filing cabinet." "Perhaps they have a special drawer for deceased patients." "They do, but it was neither there nor in the active file.