Jane looked up, her eyes widening. "You don't suppose—?"
“That Uncle Joe got the missing money? If there was missing money? Maybe so. But why would he stick around here all these years if he had?"
“Rent free, not much work. The perfect situation for a lazy old man," Jane said. "I wonder if he's always lived here or whether he had a real job and a real life in his younger days and this is just his retirement position."
“I had the impression he'd been a fixture here forever," Shelley said. "But it was only an impression.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to absorb and process this new information about the Thatcher family. Then Shelley brought up Dwayne's room. "Who could have done that to his things, and why?" she asked.
“I suppose it could have been meant as a tacky practical joke. But it seems out of character for the boys — young men — who are here."
“My thoughts exactly. First, they don't look like hoodlums who would find vandalism amusing.
They're all a bit on the nerdy side. And secondly, while they might want to do something nasty to Dwayne, they're all so extraordinarily deferential to Jack Thatcher that I don't think they'd consider wrecking the bed and the plumbing on his property. Not a good way to impress a big-deal executive."
“I agree. But a couple of them were in and out of the house while the football game was going on. They had opportunity, if not motive," Jane said.
“But so did nearly everyone," Shelley pointed out. "The ladies at the shower were knocking back the champagne and running back and forth to their bathrooms."
“You think a woman might have done it?"
“I don't see why not. It didn't take any special strength or height. It could have even been the aunts, for that matter."
“Or Jack Thatcher. Or even Uncle Joe," Jane said. "But what was the point? Just to show dislike or contempt?"
“Maybe it was meant as a warning. Stop doing whatever you're doing, Dwayne, or something worse will happen to you."
“But what's he doing besides marrying Livvy?”
Shelley said, "That might be enough. Or it could be something else. We really don't know anything about him except that he's sort of low-rent and is very nasty to anyone close at hand when he's mad."
“I guess about the only person it couldn't have been was Jack Thatcher."
“Why's that?"
“Because all he had to do to stop the wedding was tell Livvy it was off," Jane said.
“You're probably right. And I can't see how Livvy and Dwayne getting married would mean anything to the aunts. So who's left?"
“Bridesmaids and Uncle Joe."
“I vote for Uncle Joe," Shelley said.
“Why? What would his motive be?"
“I don't know. But I'll think of something.”
They heard the front door open and footsteps approaching. "Mel? Is that you?" Jane called out.
Mel stepped into the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator. "Anything to eat?"
“Mr. Willis left us dinners," Jane said. "Pick whichever plate you like. Where have you been?"
“Just snooping around the grounds," he said, taking the foil off a plate and gazing at the food with disapproval. "Girly-girly stuff. Prissy chicken salad and tiny sandwiches. Is there anything substantial around? I'm starving."
“There probably is, but we don't dare touch it or we may mess up Mr. Willis's meal plans," Jane said. "There's a McDonald's a couple miles away."
“No, I want real food. A steak and a big baked
potato," he said, pouring himself a soft drink and
sitting down at the table with them. "Want to go
somewhere and see if we can find such a thing?"
"Any other time, I'd snap up that offer," Jane said. "But right now all I want to do is stay here and veg out while there's the chance. Did you know Uncle Joe is the illegitimate half-brother of Jack Thatcher and his sisters?"
“You're kidding!" Mel said. "Come to think of it, there is a vague look of an older Jack Thatcher about him. They have the same eyes and hairline."
“Don't you think that's significant?" Jane asked.
“In what way?"
“I'm not sure. It's just odd. They don't seem to have any affection for him. The aunts will hardly speak to him, in fact. But he gets to live here and even go to the rehearsal dinner."
“Every family's got its own rules," Mel said mildly. "This setup isn't half as weird or creepy as a lot I've come across. I had an aunt who invited two of her ex-husbands to her fourth wedding. And they came and had a wonderful time."
“Has anybody mentioned the treasure to you?" Jane asked.
Mel arched an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "The Treasure? Is it a hidden treasure?"
“As a matter of fact, it is," Jane said, suspecting rightly that he was having a joke at her expense. "If it exists at all."
“Okay," Mel said, leaning back in his chair. "Lay it on me."
“We've heard bits of this from several people, but mainly from Eden—"
“The glamorous bridesmaid?"
“I was hoping you wouldn't notice the glamour," Jane said. "Anyhow, according to the aunts, old Oliver Wendell Thatcher was supposed to have a lot more money than showed up when he died. He must have left tons, but they figure there was still a lot more that went missing somewhere."
“Half the families in probate court believe the same thing, Jane," Mel said.
“But in this case, it seems like it could be possible," she replied. "And as Shelley has pointed out, it would have been likely that he was the sort of person who was clever enough to hide money away for his family to keep it from being taxed. Lots of very wealthy people are wary of giving the government more than their fair share of an estate. At least, that's what I hear.”
Mel looked rather blank. "Interesting, I guess, but what has it got to do with anything?"
“I think that's why shadowy figures were creeping around in the dark last night. The night Mrs. Crossthwait died," Jane said. "I feel pretty sure one or both of the aunts took down some of those pictures in the main room and took them apart to see if there might be valuable documents hidden in them."
“And accidentally knocked Mrs. Crossthwait down the stairs?"
“Or purposely, maybe," Jane said. "When I was in the main room, someone shined a flashlight in my eyes for a second, then wouldn't respond when I called out. And as I made my way back tomy room, somebody brushed by me going in the opposite direction. So there were at least two people roaming around to no good purpose. Maybe more."
“And you think this has to do with the hidden treasure," Mel said. Then he sighed. "Well, I'd feel pretty much of a fool if I ignored this nonsense and it turned out to be relevant. I think I'll drive into town and talk to the local officials again. Yes, in fact, that's a good idea. Cops always know where to get a good meal."
“Oh, Mel. There's something else. Dwayne Hessling's room was trashed this afternoon.”
“Trashed?"
“Everything dumped out of his suitcase, clothes deliberately rumpled up, Dwayne's foul aftershave poured all over the bed and toiletries assigned to the toilet."
“Probably his friends' idea of a practical joke."
“We don't think so," Shelley put in. "We think they're ambitious young men who have their imaginations fired up by Dwayne's financial/marital success. They'd be fools not to be on their best behavior while they're here. And Dwayne was furious about it. If he were part of a crowd that ran to that kind of 'joke,' I don't think he'd have been so angry.
Mel had listened seriously. "Okay. You two could be right. But what do you figure the real point was?"
“It looked to me like a threat of some kind. A warning, I think," Jane said. "Do such-and-such and worse things will happen to you. There was a very destructive, nasty feeling in that room."