Let's Play Dead

CHAPTER 12

On the ride to work on Monday, I decided that I didn’t have time to worry about poor dead Joe. No, that sounded harsh. As a veteran of a previous murder investigation, I could provide emotional support and guidance to Arabella as needed, but as James had pointed out, there wasn’t much more I could do. And I had a museum of my own to run, which was more than enough to keep me busy.

I stopped at Shelby’s office on the way to my own and was happy to find her already at her desk.

“Hey, lady,” she said as I walked in. “How’s our boy Eric doing?”

“Great, so far, but I haven’t asked him for much. I’m letting him ease into the job. How is it you know him?”

“I know his mama, back home. And he went to school with my daughter.”

“And mama asked you to keep an eye on her baby?”

Shelby grimaced. “Not exactly. She’d rather not talk about him, since he’s made it clear that… he’s not going to be giving her any grandchildren.”

I caught her drift. “Her loss,” I said firmly. “How’s he been handling the big city? It can be kind of scary.”

“He’s had a few rough patches, but I’d say he’s pretty well grounded. I hope things work out for him here at the Society, but if they don’t, you do what you have to do. I don’t expect any special favors for him.”

“Don’t worry, I will. I need someone who can handle the job. That position can be a sensitive one, and Eric’s kind of young for it. But he’s been handling things well so far. How about you? Are you getting a feel for things?”

“Piece of cake. At least you left your files in good order, and Carrie’s been a big help. She’s got something going with Rich?”

“My, you do catch on fast. Yes, she does, but I don’t have a problem with that, as long as they do their jobs. And Rich’s position isn’t permanent at the moment-although maybe you can find funding to extend it, if that’s what he wants. Among all your other tasks. Oh, and would you please nose around and see what kind of money is available for collaborative ventures with an educational component?”

“You thinking about that carousel project with Let’s Play?”

“I am, or something like it. Once they get past this mess.” There had been nothing new about Joe or Let’s Play in the paper, and other, more urgent news had banished it from the front pages.

“Sad thing, that. I do hope they find out what happened soon.”

“So do I. Well, I’d better get down to business. Give me a shout if you need anything. Also, there’s an all-hands staff meeting on Friday at nine, before we open. Can you send out a staff email to remind everybody? Eric doesn’t have a computer yet, or I’d ask him to do it.” One more thing I needed to follow up on.

“Will do.”

I made my way down the hall toward my office. Eric was already in place, his desk gleaming, notepads neatly lined up. I could swear he had even buffed the old telephone. His African violet was ensconced on the windowsill behind him, adding a bright touch of color. He smiled happily when he saw me. “Good morning, Nell! Can I get you a cup of coffee? I brought in a new variety to try out.”

I hated the stereotype of a secretary-a word now apparently banned from employer vocabulary-who fetched coffee for the boss, but I really did want a cup of coffee. “Thank you, Eric. Just remember, you don’t have to make a habit of it.”

“Don’t you worry-I like to help.” He bounded out of his seat and vanished down the hall.

Moving more slowly, I hung up my coat and went to my own desk, where Eric had lined up a few pink message slips. So early? I leafed through them. One was from Marty Terwilliger, who had said she wanted to stop by for a moment. Not seconds later, I looked up to find her, as if by magic, standing at my office door watching me. I shouldn’t have been surprised, since she had keys to every door in the place, and came and went at will. She walked in without waiting for an invitation-typical Marty.

“You know, you look right at home in this office,” she said, making herself comfortable in a chair.

“Please, come in, sit down.” I gestured grandly, after the fact.

She tsk-tsked. “Come off it-I’ve never stood on ceremony and you know it.”

“I do. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Business or personal?”

“Some of each. Can you do lunch?”

“I guess.” I had no idea if I had anything scheduled. Did she want to pump me about my date with James?

“Great. I’ve got some research to do, but I’ll head back up here about noon. Hello!”

Eric had appeared in the doorway, cradling a mug of coffee. Intent upon not spilling it, he hadn’t noticed Marty. “Oh, excuse me-I didn’t know you had a guest. I’ll get right out of your way.” He carefully set my coffee on a coaster I didn’t even know I had, then backed away.

“Hold on, Eric. Am I free for lunch today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said promptly, without consulting a calendar. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Nope, I’m good,” I said.

When Eric had retreated to his desk, Marty raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

“My new assistant, Eric-I’m trying him out.”

“He’s a lot cuter than Doris. Well, you can fill me in at lunch. See you!” She breezed out as quickly as she had appeared.

When she was out of earshot, I called out, “Eric?”

He returned with lightning speed. “I’m sorry,” he began.

“Don’t be. That’s Marty Terwilliger-she’s a board member, but she kind of feels she owns the place, since both her grandfather and her father were board members, too. And she’s also a friend. You’ll be seeing a lot of her because she spends a lot of time here, including downstairs in the library and in the stacks.”

Eric nodded. “That’s good to know. Anybody else I need to know about?”

I sighed. “I’ll find you a board list, and we can go over it-you’ll no doubt be fielding a lot of calls from them, and I can tell you in advance which ones need special handling. And someday, all things willing, there’ll be files on your computer-as soon as there is a computer. When you have spare time, that will let you review our donor list, or if someone calls, you can check that list quickly.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“And it appears I’m having lunch with Marty today, so you can put that on your nonexistent calendar,” I called out after him.

Before I tackled the next item on my never-ending to-do list, I thought I should touch base with Arabella and see how she was holding up. She was such a sweet person, and seemed so ill-prepared for this kind of trouble. I was surprised to be put through immediately.

“Oh, Nell, how nice of you to call!” she said when she picked up. “I was afraid it was another annoying person from the newspaper. Or the police.”

“I just wanted to be sure you were all right. You’ve talked to the police again?”

It sounded as though Arabella swallowed a sob before answering. “Yes. They keep asking the same questions. Do I have any enemies? Is there someone with a grudge against Let’s Play? I don’t, Nell, I swear. This is a children’s museum, and I thought everyone loved us. Do you think they believe this was deliberate? Because they won’t come straight out and tell me anything.”

“The police have to look at all angles, Arabella. Don’t take it personally. For that matter, it could be directed at someone else, like Hadley Eastman. Or someone who thinks you’re exploiting hedgehogs. Or even someone who simply likes to stir up trouble.”

“Do you really think so? Because I’ve been going over and over this in my head all weekend, and I can’t see why anyone would want to hurt us.”

At least Arabella sounded a little less depressed, so I said, “I can’t, either. Let the police do their job, and I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of this.” I debated about crossing my fingers to cover the white lie, but my goal was to reassure Arabella. “Have they let you reopen?”

“Tomorrow, they said.” Arabella sighed. “Thank you for calling, Nell. It’s nice to know I’m not alone in all this.”

“Let me know if I can do anything to help, Arabella.” We rang off. I hoped I’d succeeded in cheering Arabella up, because she sounded as though she needed it. At the same time, I was troubled: the police seemed to be edging up on labeling this a murder, and that wasn’t a good thing for Let’s Play.

True to her word, Marty reappeared promptly at noon. I smiled to myself when I heard Eric address her by name and send her directly in. He learned fast.

“You ready to go?” Marty asked, leaning against the doorjamb. She was dressed for research: since our stacks were more than a bit dusty, that meant jeans and sneakers.

“I guess. Where did you want to go?”

“How about that Israeli place around the corner?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, gathering up my coat. But then, almost any restaurant usually sounded good to me.

“So, what’s up?” I asked once we were settled at one of the restaurant’s small tables. “How’s the hunt for Major Jonathan’s documents going?” Marty spent most of her time at the Society working on the Terwilliger Collection, a massive but disorganized collection of items bequeathed by her family. A number of documents that had belonged to Major Jonathan Terwilliger-Revolutionary War hero, colleague of George Washington, friend to most of the country’s founders, and Marty’s lineal ancestor-had been removed-or rather, stolen-from the Society’s collections, and we were still hoping to get them back.

Diverse expressions raced across Marty’s face: anger, regret, determination. “So-so. The Feebs are on it, as I’m sure you know, but I know the missing items better. We’re still working on it.”

“Speaking of the FBI, I had drinks with your cousin James the other day.”

That pleased her. “Good! Did Jimmy ask you, or the other way around?”

“He called me, on short notice. We had a nice time, we may see each other again, and that’s the end of the story.”

“I won’t pry. But do remember I’m kinda fond of him, so if it doesn’t work out, let him down gently, will you?”

“What, you aren’t worried about my tender feelings?”

“You can take care of yourself. What should we order?”

Scanning the menu before the harried young waitress appeared occupied the next couple of minutes. When we had placed our orders, I asked Marty, “You heard about the death at Let’s Play?”

“I did. Too bad-they’re good people there.”

“Do you know Arabella Heffernan?”

“We’ve met. You know I don’t have kids, so I don’t get in there very often. But my former brother-in-law was on the board for a while.”

“During Arabella’s tenure?”

“Sure. She’s been there at least a decade.”

“What was his opinion of the place?”

“He liked it, but then, he had young kids at that time. When they graduated to more serious stuff, he kind of lost interest and moved on. I think he said he was sometimes frustrated because Arabella wasn’t very interested in the financial bottom line. She was all about the displays and the programs, and left it to the board to find the money. She’s got vision, I’ll give you that. You have to believe she actually thinks like a child, and it works. Sometimes she got overextended and had to be reined in. But she means well, from what I understand.”

“You think the death this week was accidental?”

She sat back in her chair and took a hard look at me. “I assume you’re asking because you don’t?”

I looked around carefully. Nobody in earshot seemed even slightly interested in our conversation. I leaned forward. “Normally I would say it was just a tragic accident, but as it happens I was there when a similar event happened a day earlier. Luckily that guy didn’t die, but I thought it was odd that the same thing happened twice in two days.”

“Huh. That first one didn’t make the paper. What did the police say?”

“I was summoned before our dear friend Detective Hrivnak, but she didn’t tell me anything. At least they’re looking this time around. Arabella told me she thought they hinted that it was more than an accident, the last time she talked to them.”

“Poor Arabella,” Marty said, then fixed me with a critical eye. “Are you asking if I might know some dirt that would point to why this is happening?”

The short answer was yes. Marty knew everyone in Philadelphia and the surrounding counties, and could tell you who their great-grandparents were, too. Thank goodness Marty was smart, which was why we worked well together: I didn’t have to explain. “Exactly. Right now I’m just collecting information. From all I’ve heard, everybody and his sister loves Let’s Play and would have absolutely no reason to do it harm. I don’t know Arabella well, though-is she hiding some deep, dark secret? Did she used to run a brothel or sell drugs out of the gift shop?”

Marty snorted. “Not hardly. Believe it or not, she’s exactly what she appears to be: a really sweet person who happens to be a decent administrator. There was kind of a stink when her husband left her, oh, twenty years ago, and she struggled for a while. But she seems to have come out of it well.”

I debated asking Marty for details about the husband but decided that I didn’t need to dig up decades-old gossip. I hadn’t been around Philadelphia then, and I hadn’t known the parties involved. And would this husband have waited twenty years to act, if he had a grudge against his ex?

“James and I were kicking around possibilities.” Okay, so now I’d gone and brought up James again.

Marty gave a short laugh. “Sounds like a great date-discussing motives for murder. He have anything useful to say?”

“It was helpful to me to have to put my ideas into words. But there are a lot of possibilities, unfortunately. What I can’t figure out is-assuming it’s not an accident-was the target the place or a person? Arabella’s a sweetheart, and Let’s Play is a real favorite around here. Was it meant to harm Joe, the guy who died? If not, who else could it be?”

“Isn’t there a new exhibit?”

“Yes, based on the Harriet the Hedgehog series. The writer’s-”

“Hadley Eastman. I’ve got a couple of grandnieces who beg for her stuff, like the day the new book comes out.”

“Do you know her?”

Marty shook her head. “I gather she lives out in one of the burbs. That’s more your territory. And she wasn’t raised around here.”

Unless Hadley’s family had lived in the state for a couple of centuries, Marty probably wouldn’t consider her local. “I gather she’s done well with the books. It’s not easy these days-lots of competition in that market. Or so I’m told.” I had no direct experience with the popularity of current children’s books. “So who benefits most from this exhibit? The museum or the author?”

Marty took a sip of water before answering. “It’s a coup for the museum to get Hadley Eastman-although I hear that her star is waning. You know how long the lead time is for exhibit planning, so maybe things were different when they signed. I wonder what kind of a deal they cut. But Hadley stands to lose, too, if her name-or do I mean Harriet’s?-is linked to a death. Although, what’s the saying? No publicity is bad publicity?”

“I refuse to consider murder a publicity stunt for anyone,” I said firmly.

Marty eyed me. “Amen. But you don’t need to get involved. You’ve got plenty on your plate as it is.”

“Are you saying that as a board member?”

“And as a friend, Nell. Your first couple of months are important-you need to show you’ve got a handle on the Society and that you’ve moved beyond what happened. Both you and the Society are under a lot of scrutiny right now. That’s got to be your first priority.”

“I know.” It would be easier to follow Marty’s good advice if I hadn’t known what Arabella must be going through. It was too easy for me to imagine just how she felt.

I was interrupted in my musings when Marty asked, “So, how are things going?” And we were off. Marty was, for me, an invaluable resource, because she knew everyone and everything there was to know about the place. In fact, since her father and grandfather had been on the board, she probably had hereditary knowledge. And she was one of my staunchest supporters: she had, in fact, engineered my rapid and unexpected ascent to its leadership. Since I’d been foolish enough to say yes, I was grateful that she was willing to help me. Of course, we did share a common goal: keeping the Society afloat financially, in the near term, and polishing it until it shone like the gem of American and local historical information that it deserved to be, in the longer term. I hoped I lived long enough to see that.

Lunch arrived promptly, and we consumed it quickly, then split the tab and emerged into the cool November afternoon. “You seem to be hiring staff nicely,” Marty said as we turned our steps back toward the Society.

“They’ve kind of fallen into my lap, but so far so good, knock on wood. We’re still working on filling Alfred’s position, but I want to be sure we get someone qualified, and who really cares about the place, not just the job. So far that one hasn’t crawled out of the woodwork.”

“I don’t have any candidates in mind, but I’ll keep my ears open. It’s just as well to let things quiet down a bit, anyway. And the collections have been sitting there for years without a whole lot of oversight, and after your recent improvements, I don’t think they’re going anywhere soon. So take your time and choose wisely.”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

As long as other things, like murder, didn’t distract me.