“Perhaps," Shelley said.
“I can't quite picture Georgia as a murderer for some reason. She's obnoxious and, it seems, a petty thief—"
“Maybe not so petty," Shelley said. "If Regina had been driven to get rid of her after all these years of graciously overlooking her pilfering, there might have been a lot of money involved. And keep in mind that Regina was killed during the Pea Festival. A big money-raising opportunity for the museum. Couldn't it be that Regina had already seen evidence of Georgia's thievery?"
“Like what?"
“I don't know!" Shelley said, becoming a bit defensive. "Maybe people pay to rent those booths and Regina found out from one of them that they'd paid Georgia a whole lot more than they're supposed to?”
Jane nodded. "I guess that could be. You know what I'm really having trouble with? The idea of the board allowing her to get away with stealing. I can't imagine Jumper or Babs letting it go, and I've never known an accountant who could ignore something wrong with the books.
Getting the information out of Sharlene wasn't all that easy, so I don't think she's lying, but couldn't she be mistaken?”
Shelley stuck her purse in the drawer next to where Jane was working and started assembling her papers. "Could be. It might be a matter of interpretation. It's possible they suspected her, but couldn't find any evidence at all. You know, I was thinking about Sharlene's interpretational abilities when she was telling about Babs's husband."
“What do you mean?"
“Well, she said she got her facts from a newspaper article. But newspapers, even then, didn't gush about whirlwind romances and great loves of people's lives. Not even folksy local papers, I'd guess. I think she was putting a lot of her own romantic spin on the story."
“Wonder if she kept the article," Jane said. "She said she made a copy. But whatever it says, I'd bet you're right and she read a lot into it."
“I'll ask her if she still has the copy next time I run into her," Shelley said. "We better get on with what we're supposed to be doing or we'll be here until they cart us off to the nursing home." She tapped down her pile of forms, adjusted them carefully on her clipboard, and turned toward the door.
And stopped.
“Sharlene? What's wrong?" she asked. Sharlene was standing in the doorway. She was dead white and holding a crumpled piece of paper out in front of her by one corner. "I — found this," she whispered.
Jane rose. "Put it down on the table, Sharlene.”
They crowded around and gazed. It was a piece of plain white typing paper. On it were the typed words: "Regina, you can't do this to me. If you try, I'll stop you."
“Where did you find this?" Shelley asked.
“In the dumpster behind the building. I was putting out trash from my office and sort of daydreaming, and I looked down and saw this."
“What else was around it? Whose trash?" Jane asked.
Sharlene looked confused. "I don't know. I didn't think. I just picked it up—"
“Sharlene, you need to call the police again," Shelley told her. "Jane, do you want to stand guard over this and I'll go stand by the Dumpster until they get here?”
Jane picked the paper up carefully, holding it exactly where Sharlene had already touched it. She put it behind the stuffed cat and began entering information on the computer. She had a strong feeling that when Mel arrived, it would be best if she were busily engaged in something — anything — that had nothing to do with the murder. She was typing like her life depended on it when Sharlene escorted Mel into the room a little while later. "Where's that paper, Jane?" Sharlene asked.
“Behind the cat," Jane said without looking up.
The officer with Mel lifted it carefully with tweezers and they left the room without a word.
An hour and a half later, Jane was leaning back and feeling supremely smug over having nearly caught up with all of Shelley's forms. Lisa Quigley came into the boardroom. "You haven't seen Derek, have you?" she asked.
“He hasn't been here," Jane replied.
“Sharlene says she's accumulating a bunch of calls he needs to return. Maybe he went home early." Lisa poured herself a cup of coffee. Jane stretched and got up to refill her cup as well.
“Caspar's roaming around here again," Lisa said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to compress a headache. "He said the police are back."
“Yes. Sharlene found a note."
“A note?"
“Yes, a note that looked like a threat to Regina. It was in the dumpster out in back."
“Note!" Lisa exclaimed. "About Regina not doing something?"
“Yes, it was," Jane said. "What's wrong? How did you know?"
“Oh, my God!" Lisa had turned alarmingly pale. "I knew about that! And I didn't say anything! I'd forgotten! Oh, how could I—?”
She rose suddenly and started pacing. "I told her she should take it seriously, and then I went and forgot about it? Is there still a police officer here?"
“Yes, there is," Mel said from the doorway. "When did Ms. Palmer get this note?”
Lisa was wringing her hands. "A week ago? No, longer than that. Let me think for a minute. It was a week ago Monday, I guess. I'm so sorry. I should have told you right away."
“What did Ms. Palmer think about the note?" Mel asked.
“She laughed it off. Almost. She handed it to me and said that somebody was playing childish games. She was sort of irritated, I think, but not really upset."
“And you were?"
“Well, of course. I don't remember exactly what it said, but it looked to me like a vague threat."
“Are we talking about the same note?" Mel asked her, unfolding a photocopy of the note and putting it on the table.
Lisa studied the copy. "Yes, I think so. It was just a line or two like this."
“Did she say who she thought wrote it?" Mel asked.
Lisa shook her head.
“Did you have an opinion?”
She looked at him. "Do I have to answer that? I had a guess, but it was just a guess.”
Mel let her reply go. "Are you aware that this was typed on the machine in Ms. Palmer's office?"
“No, of course not. Are you sure?"