"Oh," said Quill, enlightened. "Yes. Absolutely."
"I?" said Mrs. Hallenbeck with a gratified inflection.
"The reasons for Mavis' murder must rest in her past. I left the company a long while ago, Mrs. Hallenbeck, and I have very little idea of what went on in the past five years or so. You were there. You knew Mavis. You've even had her living with you for... how long?"
"Just a year. My son insisted that I have a companion to live with me."
"So, you know her better than any of us. Now, Quill and I have a suspicion that Mavis was a blackmailer."
"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," said Mrs. Hallenbeck. "I had a suspicion of that right along."
"You did?" said Quill, fascinated. "And you didn't get rid of her, or anything?"
"Well, she wasn't blackmailing me. And Mavis could be a great deal of fun, you know. Huh. Blackmail. Who, do you suppose?"
"That's what we were hoping you could tell us," said Quill. "Had you heard her mention Marge before, for example? In any way that would lead you to believe that she had something on her?"
"Marge Schmidt? No. I mean, of course, they worked together way back when. Margie was good, I'll give her that. Never had a proper respect for me or for Mr. Hallenbeck, but then, with that background, what can you expect? Blue-collar all the way, high-school education, no proper home life at all. But she was quite efficient at running the East Coast operations. I told Mr. Hallenbeck he should offer Marge more money when she quit. The profit margin in that was never the same after she left. I would guess," said Mrs. Hallenbeck with a twinkle, "that Mavis met her match in Marge Schmidt."
"You must have a good reason to suspect Mavis of blackmail," said John. "Think back. Any phone conversations, or letters, or people she mentioned? Especially if you've seen them here."
"Gil Gilmeister never worked for Doggone Good Dogs, for example?" said Quill. "Or Tom Peterson?"
"Oh, no. The first time Mavis met Tom was at the play rehearsal when Marge introduced him to both of us."
"And then you went to dinner with Gil at the diner."
"Yes. Marge had a loan outstanding against Mr. Gilmeister's half of the auto business. She suggested that I buy him out. Mavis knew that my investments hadn't been doing too well lately. The market these past few years has been simply appalling. I used to get quite a decent return on my portfolio, and it's been halved. Halved. I'm seriously considering suing my broker."
"How did you leave it with Gil?" asked John.
"I wasn't averse to a good return. I told Mavis to speak to his partner, Tom Peterson, to get an idea of what the business could do under decent management."
"Did she speak to him?"
"Yes. She was never one to let grass grow under her feet, I'll tell you that. Mr. Gilmeister, Marge, and Mr. Baumer brought me back to the Inn, while Mavis went across the green - to whatever it is that you call it...."
"The Pavilion," supplied Quill.
"Yes, where the - incident occurred - to speak to Tom. Gil was most anxious for a quick decision. He didn't seem a bad sort, apart from his drinking problem. Whereas Keith... Tcha! A dreadful employee and a dreadful man."
"Keith," said Quill stupidly. "You mean Keith Baumer?"
"Yes, do you know him? Of course, he's staying here, isn't he? He was there when Mavis..." She shuddered. "I know there is a great deal of violence in the world today. I know at my age I should be more immune to it. But I cannot get the incident out of my mind. I dreamed about it, last night."
"Mrs. Hallenbeck!" Quill uncurled her clenched fists and forced herself to speak in a normal tone of voice. "Did you know Keith Baumer before you met him here at the Inn?"
"Of course. He was Meat Manager for the Central portion of the United States."
"For Doggone Good Dogs?"
"Yes." Mrs. Hallenbeck's tone was impatient. "As I was saying, I wonder if I should see that nice Dr. Bishop about my disrupted sleep. I've never needed much sleep, even as a young woman, but - "
"Mrs. Hallenbeck," said John. "You may have solved the case!"
"I?" A look of utter confusion crossed her face. "What do you mean? What did I say?"
"When did Keith Baumer work at Doggone Good Dogs?" John was marvelous, thought Quill, quiet, unexcited, yet properly deferential.
"Is it important?" said Mrs. Hallenbeck, her cheeks flushed. "You mean he and Mavis may have known each other before? That they had arranged to meet here? Of course! Mavis suggested we come to this place. There could be some reason for him to... to have made the accident happen? Well!" She was obviously pleased with herself. "I have an excellent memory. Let me think a moment. He was Meat Manager for about four years, approximately ten years ago, before your time, Mr. Raintree."
"And Mavis was Director of Human Resources at that time?"
"Not then. She was part of the department. She moved on to become Mr. Hallenbeck's assistant. Human Resources was headed at that time by a fiery young woman, most impractical. A Democrat, I believe. At any rate, Keith was fired under a cloud, as they say."
"Not embezzlement?" said John.
"No. Something to do with the way things are run nowadays. Stupid laws, when it's usually all the woman's fault. The way these young girls dress!"
"Sexual harassment," said Quill, "it figures."
"That was it. How clever of you, Sarah."
"How clever of you!" Impulsively, Quill walked over and gave her a hug. "This could be it, John!" She sank to her knees beside Mrs. Hallenbeck's chair. "Listen. We're going to need some time to track down Baumer's movements. My guess is that we can discover enough evidence to put him away for a long, long time."
"You mean you think he killed Mavis?" She looked old and bewildered. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment; and then she looked at John. "I thought he killed Mavis!"
"No, Mrs. Hallenbeck, that's one of the things you are going to help us to accomplish. Remember? We're all working together to clear John's name."
"We're investigating," said Mrs. Hallenbeck with satisfaction. "You and I."
"And John. It's almost seven-thirty now, Mrs. Hallenbeck. Why don't you go down to the dining room? Meg and I usually eat about now, and you can join us. Just ask Peter to seat you at our table. Tell him I told you to sit there. I'm going to bathe and change, and then I'll join you." She helped the old woman out of her chair and escorted her to the door. "Remember. John isn't going to go to the police until the sheriff gets back. We have twenty-four hours to solve these murders. So part of your job as a member of the investigation team is not to let anyone know that John's come back."
Mrs. Hallenbeck nodded wisely. "I'll be downstairs, waiting for you, and" - she leaned forward and whispered in Quill's ear - "I shall be on the alert for clues."
Giddy from both lack of sleep and relief, Quill collapsed on her sofa with a sigh when the door closed on Amelia Hallenbeck.
John, more reserved, said, "It's not over yet. I'm going to spend the rest of the day with my hacker friend. I'll pull Baumer's address from the register and see what we can find in his financial records. But, I don't know, Quill. This all seems pretty tenuous."