Conrad greeted them effusively. "Perfect timing! I just took them out of the oven. Wait until you see these, ladies.”
He escorted them through the kitchen, past the deli cases, and to the seating area, empty now that the lunch hour was well past. Sarah trailed along behind with plates and silverware. Grace brought up the rear with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. When they were all settled, Conrad came out with a casserole dish and removed the lid with a flourish. Inside were a half dozen large artichokes, hollowed out and filled with a rich stuffing. They were topped with browned Parmesan cheese with herbs mixed in. The smell was heavenly.
With great formality he placed one on each plate. He was just sitting down himself when the front door opened. Mel VanDyne and two uniformed officers came in. Mel looked over the group at the table and glared for a long moment directly at Jane.
“Hello? We're not open for meals right now," Conrad said. "But if you'd like to come back at five—”
Mel said, "Conrad Baker, I'm arresting you for the murder of Emma Weyrich—”
Conrad stood up, his face darkening. "Sarah, go upstairs," he said in a low, fierce tone.
She stood automatically and started to walk away, then turned and said, very calmly, "No, Conrad.”
Mel was reciting the Miranda warning. "Do you understand?" he finished.
“Yes, yes. But this is all a mistake. You can't arrest me. I haven't done anything. Sarah, I said to go upstairs!”
He started to move toward her, and the larger of the uniformed officers glided into his path and took his arm. "No, sir. You're coming with us.”
Grace had gotten up from the table and gone to Sarah. Jane, afraid to meet Mel's disapproving gaze, looked at them instead. Sarah seemed suddenly taller. Sturdier. And for the first time, Jane could see a resemblance between the sisters.22 The next four hours were hectic. Mel and one officer took Conrad away. Sarah and Grace were asked to come along in the second police car for questioning.
Grace looked as if she'd been hit in the stomach. "Ladies, I'm going to have to lock up," she said tentatively.
Patsy, ever practical, asked, "Who's going to cook dinner? Surely you have orders to fill and people will be coming to eat here in another two hours."
“We'll just have to close down for the day," Grace said. "Probably close down entirely."
“No!" Sarah said firmly. "No, we're not closing. This is ours, Grace — yours and mine — and we're not crumpling up and throwing it away as if it's nothing!”
Jane, Shelley, Patsy, and Grace all stared at Sarah as if she'd suddenly turned into an alien life form.
Shelley was the first to recover. "Then we'll stay and take care of things. The recipes are written down somewhere, aren't they? Jane, you call Mike and get him in here to help us find everything. Patsy, report to your family what's become of you and then call mine, too, if you don't mind.”
Grace was the one looking confused and fragile for a change. "Conrad? Conrad killed that woman? But why? I don't understand."
“I'll tell you all about it, Grace," Sarah said. "There's all the time in the world now." Suddenly her shoulders started shaking and she put her face in her hands, sobbing, "Oh, God! I'm free.”
Shelley, in brisk mode, said, "Grace, we'll take care of everything here. Don't forget your purse. Here it is. Go along now.”
The second officer escorted them out the front door. Patsy looked at Jane. "I don't understand any of this!"
“I'll explain—" Jane began.
“Jane!" Shelley called over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen, walking hard on her heels. "Have you made your phone call yet? There's no time for talk now. We have to fix dinner for about fifty people. Patsy, with all due respect, you aren't allowed near the food preparation."
“I waitressed all through college. I carry plates very well. Maybe I'll get one of mydaughters to hunt in the attic for my old fishnet stockings and short skirt." They all burst into laughter at this idea.
They concocted a flimsy story about Grace, Sarah, and Conrad being called away suddenly on a family matter, and cut the menu in half, eliminating the more difficult dishes. Mike came through like a trouper, calling in another friend to help Scott with the deliveries while Mike himself took all the carry-out orders, packed them, and assigned delivery routes. Patsy's waitressing skills came back to her "like riding a bicycle," as she said. Shelley did the cooking and Jane got stuck with the dishwashing and vegetable peeling.
“Lot of good it does me to be the boss's best friend," she grumbled.
By seven-thirty, they'd locked the door behind the last diners and collapsed around the small kitchen table to eat leftovers. Mike excused himself with dire remarks about having to work on his day off and how he expected to be paid at least double. The women agreed that he'd been well worth double his salary, whatever it might be.
“So what is all this about!" Patsy said.
Jane washed down the last of her sandwich with a big gulp of coffee. "It all came together when I went through the trash from Mike's car," she said. "He'd come in to work Saturday and picked up stuff from the front side‑ walk. Among other things there was an old newspaper clipping. About Sarah and Conrad's baby. I don't remember the exact wording, but the gist of the article was the background of the child's accident, his terrible affliction, and the fact that the parents wanted the life support removed. The local judge had been assumed to be sympathetic to that philosophy, but word had gotten out in the community and a citizens' group had been formed to protest any such judgment. The article mentioned that the citizens' group had been put together and was headed by 'local attorney and civic activist' Robert Stonecipher.”
Patsy put her hands to her cheeks. "No! Oh, no! He was the one responsible for pressuring the judge to keep the baby alive!”
Jane nodded.
“But Conrad didn't kill Stonecipher. Nobody did."
“But at the time Emma died, neither Emma nor Conrad knew that," Jane said. "Apparently Emma came over here Friday night after the high school graduation and waved that article around in Conrad's face, claiming that he had the best motive for killing Stonecipher and demanding money to keep quiet about it. Conrad must have been horrified," Jane said. "Not only was Emma threatening to put him in danger of arrest, but the whole ugly, upsetting story about the baby's death would becomepublic in the town where they finally intended to settle.”
Patsy nodded. "I can see his fear of the story about the baby getting out, but that alone wouldn't be worth killing someone for. And even the threat of arrest — well, Conrad knew he didn't kill Stonecipher because nobody killed him. I'm getting more confused. Did Conrad push the rack over on Stonecipher?"
“Yes," Jane said.
“But why make it look like murder?"
“That's what we all wondered, but we were looking at it backward," Jane said. "We kept saying, 'Why would anyone want an accident to look like murder?' when the truth was, Conrad probably thought it was murder and was trying to make it look like an accident."
“Who did he—? Sarah? He thought Sarah murdered Stonecipher?" Patsy said.
“That's my guess. Grace said Conrad was fanatic about not letting the local paper anywhere near Sarah. He was probably afraid she'd see Stonecipher's name in connection with some of his many causes and recognize it. As much as it upset him, think how much more it would upset her. But for all his efforts, he finds Stonecipher dead right there on the floor of the storage room and probably leaped to the conclusion that Sarah had identified him, gone berserk, and killed him. So he tried to make it look like an accident. Conrad's a big, tall man and didn't realize that just reaching out and shoving the rack over wasn't going to be that easy, even for him, and certainly not for a smaller person.”
They heard the front door open and fell silent. Grace and Sarah were talking quietly as they moved toward the stairs. As their steps died away, Patsy said, "What was the article doing — wherever you said Mike found it?”
Shelley said, "The police had a witness who saw Emma going out Friday night in her jogging clothes, but carrying car keys and a file folder. It must have been the folder containing the article. It probably wasn't one of the blackmail files. I'd guess it was a sort of clipping file Stonecipher kept on himself. Mentions of him in newspapers and such. She was certainly bright enough to have made a copy or at least a notation of the paper and date.”
Jane took up the story. "She must have given Conrad the clipping, which he subsequently dropped. When he discovered that it was missing, he was frantic. Grace told me they'd had trouble with raccoons emptying the trash cans all over the place Sunday night.”
Patsy nodded. "Conrad rummaging for the missing clipping."
“Right," Jane said. "And when he didn't find it, he remembered that Mike had tidied up the yard. So he looked in Mike's car whileit was parked in back and Mike was working inside the deli. Mike told me someone had been in his car, but hadn't taken anything. Conrad again."
“But Jane, all of this is what could have happened. Where's the proof of any of it? The police don't recklessly arrest people who might have a reason to murder someone.”
Jane looked uncomfortable. "I haven't talked to Mel since early this morning. They obviously have physical evidence to support the theory or they wouldn't have arrested Conrad. Maybe both his and Emma's fingerprints were on the clipping in spite of it having been mauled around. And there was the paper dot from the folders.”
She explained briefly to Patsy about the little paper lozenges. "When he showed me one, I knew I'd seen such a thing before. I think — yes, I have it here." She had put the blue dot back in her jeans pocket and now placed it on the kitchen table.
Patsy stared at it for a minute. "Hmm. Looks familiar in a way—"
“You and I saw a green one. At the same time.”