“Yeah,” Palmer said. “According to his business associates, Andrew had been in good health and was happily married to a nice gal and they had three loving kids.”
Hmm. Andrew had a wife and three kids. So why had he been flirting so outrageously with Jane? He’d asked her out on at least one date while I was standing right there, listening in on their private conversation. And Jane had admitted later that he had called her three times to ask her out.
Just how happily married had he been? Not very, it seemed. Maybe the turmoil of being un-happily married had driven him to commit suicide.
But he didn’t commit suicide, I reminded myself. Not if what Tommy said was true, that the hotel room had been scrubbed of fingerprints and other evidence. That sounded like murder.
Maybe his wife knew about his philandering and snuck up to Lighthouse Cove and killed him. It was a longshot, but if that were the case, it was just as well that he hadn’t been staying at Jane’s B-and-B. I shivered at the thought that Jane could’ve been involved. But that was ridiculous. It was more likely that Andrew Braxton was involved in some kind of industrial espionage and was killed by a business partner. Or, even more likely, I didn’t know what in the world I was talking about.
I tried to remember what Palmer had just said. Oh yeah, the happily married man.
“If he was so happy, why did he commit suicide in a hotel room in Lighthouse Cove?”
“Good question,” Palmer said. “Was he drunk? Was he coerced?”
“Was it murder?” I was more or less putting the idea into Palmer’s head.
“Could be,” Palmer mused. “One more thing. Braxton was scheduled to give a presentation this afternoon on the latest psychotropic drugs on the market. He had been traveling with a briefcase filled with samples of the drugs he intended to discuss during his speech.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But no such briefcase was found in his hotel room.”
*
That evening, Jane and I were able to gather the Festival Committee for a short, secret meeting at my house. We planned to spend one quick hour together to settle all of our remaining issues. Three of the food vendors hadn’t handed in a menu. We had come up with all the fun categories for the Pet Parade, and we were all thrilled with our choice of grand marshal, Chief Eric Jensen, who would lead the float parade. But we still had to determine the order of the rest of the floats and participants.
As I was placing a platter of cookies on the dining room sideboard, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang.
“Good heavens,” Lily said. “Who’s that?”
Pat glanced at me. “Somebody’s desperate to see you.”
“I’ll be right back.” But as I approached my front door, a chill zipped across my shoulders. And as I reached for the doorknob, I knew why.
Whipping the door open, I said, “Hello, Whitney, Jennifer.”
“My, my, what have we here?” Whitney said as she brushed past me to enter my house.
“Do come in,” I muttered.
Whitney stood at the dining room entry. “Look at this.”
“It looks like a Festival Committee meeting,” Jennifer said, scowling. “I think you forgot to invite a few of us.”
“Didn’t you get the e-mail?” I asked. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“That’s a lie,” Jennifer declared.
Whitney blocked my way into the dining room. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”
I stared at her with what I hoped was an insipid smile. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Jane didn’t miss a beat. “Hello, ladies. We’ve been waiting for you. There’s coffee and cookies, so grab what you want and have a seat so we can get started.”
Jennifer frowned at Whitney as I nudged them toward the table.
“We’ve made a list of the parade floats and we’re working out the order.” Jane passed them the list. “Some of us think the Baby Batoneers should come after the fire engine brigade, but before the Surf City Band.” She gazed blandly at Whitney. “What do you think?”
“Huh?” Jennifer said.
Whitney made a face. “Why would I give a fig?”
“Okay, then, all in favor of the order as posted?”
Six of us raised our hands.
“Opposed?”
We all turned and stared at Jennifer and Whitney, who looked at each other in confusion for the briefest moment but quickly recovered.
“I oppose it,” Jennifer said loudly, for no reason other than the fact that she was a knucklehead.
Whitney made a sound of disgust. “Let’s get out of here.” She shoved her chair back and stood. Jennifer did the same and they both stormed out of the room. I was quick to follow to make sure they left my house.
“The ayes have it,” Jane said brightly.
*
At noon on Saturday, Jane and I met Althea for lunch at Francois, the French bistro on the town square. The older woman turned out to be just as charming and easy to talk to as she’d seemed before.