“I'm losing the thread again," Shelley said.
“We're trying to figure out if John Claypool stood to gain from Sam's death. And I don't see how he could. Not enough to be worth killing for. And while they didn't seem exactly chummy, I certainly didn't get a hint of antagonism between them, did you?"
“No. I wouldn't call them close, but they worked together every day and have for years, so I assume they managed to get along."
“Simmering resentment?" Jane suggested. Shelley shook her head. "John Claypool doesn't strike me as a man who could simmer for long without boiling over. He's too brash. Too 'surface.' "
“I can't think of any other motive he'd have, then. Nor can I think of a single one for Eileen. If anything, this is to their disadvantage."
“How do you figure that?" Shelley asked.
“The car dealership apparently took two men full-time to operate. Now John's going to have to work harder than ever to keep it going."
“Mmm," Shelley said. "That's a point. Okay, if we're assuming that Marge's version of Henry is accurate, and John and Eileen are out of the suspect picture, who does that leave us? The rest of the committee."
“And the Tituses," Jane added.
“Let's leave them for a minute and consider the rest of the committee. What could Liz have against Sam?"
“I have no idea. Their lives don't seem to be likely to intersect at any point — unless she bought a car from him. Maybe a real lemon."
“Jane, if normal people killed salesmen who sold them duds, there wouldn't be any salespeople left."
“It was just an idea — I didn't claim it was a good idea," Jane said with a smile. "Couldn't be a flap relating to Liz's job. Sam and Marge didn't have kids."
“Al Flowers then?"
“I don't think Al Flowers could swat a fly, much less smack a person dead with a frying pan," Jane said. "And if Al were the type to take offense, he couldn't stand to live with Liz, who can dish out more offense in five minutes than anyone has the right to. And look how well he manages it."
“ 'Now, Lizzie.' " They imitated his nimbly voice in unison and laughed.
“What about money? You mentioned bankers a while ago," Shelley said. "Car dealerships and banks go together. What if Al's bank was pulling some kind of monetary hanky-panky that Sam found out about? It could ruin Al and probably take Liz's career down with him. Schools can be awfully snotty about the reputation of their administrators — and their families.”
Jane looked down into her coffee cup. "I've only known Al for a matter of days, and not well at that, but if this really is a world where somebody so nice can be a villain, I don't want to know about it. And would never believe it."
“I know what you mean," Shelley said. "I feel like I should get my mouth washed out with soap for even considering it. And I'd feel pretty much the same way about Bob Rycraft. Not that I'm so crazy about him, but I do think he's a bone-deep nice guy. He's a good daddy to a mob of little girls. If that isn't nice, I don't know what is."
“So that leaves us with the Tituses," Jane said. "I think we can exempt Allison. She seems to be in really frail health. I don't think she would have found it physically possible to lurk in the woods and deal a killing blow with a heavy frying pan even if she did have a motive. And I can't imagine what the motive might be. When I asked her about the Clay-pools, she didn't seem to show any interest in themat all except to mention that Benson once worked for them as a mechanic."
“No guilty starts, gritted teeth, or furtive looks?"
“None of the above," Jane said with a smile. "She could be a fantastic actress, I guess. I'd swear that she was utterly sincere about how content she is with her life, though. She positively glowed when she talked about how much she loves this place, her quilting, her computer friends, her family. There's no room in the woman's life for a murderous grudge."
“So what about Benson?" Shelley said. "I wouldn't have thought he had a spare second to waste killing someone. I wish the sheriff had believed us and questioned everyone about their movements and alibis the night we found Sam dead. He was very likely with his family or staff the whole time after we left. There was a lot of cleaning up and putting away to be done."
“That's a good point, Shelley. Now Taylor believes us, but everybody, including the murderer, can quite logically claim to not remember details of that evening. So much has happened since."
“Tell me again about the patent business with Benson," Shelley said.
Jane repeated what Allison had told her about Benson inventing a mechanical gadget in his free time.
“So it wasn't part of his job for the Claypools?" Shelley asked.
“She said he got the idea from something at work and invented it in his spare time," Jane said. "I don't know what the gadget was. I'm not sure Allison knows. Why do you ask?"
“Only because patents on inventions sometimes become a lot more valuable with time. Suppose Sam had decided that he had some right to the profits because Benson worked for him when he invented it."
“What I know about the law would barely fill a thimble, but I'd guess it's too late. Benson sold the patent some time ago, and wouldn't Sam have to go after the patent office, or the people who purchased it, rather than Benson?"
“Maybe. The problem with this theory is that Sam and Benson hardly acted like they even remembered each other. I can imagine Sam concealing his feelings, but Benson? Not a chance. He looked like he was going to explode or have a stroke when Lucky Smith turned up here."
“Lucky Smith!" Jane exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about him. Now, he's somebody I can imagine getting tanked up and committing a senseless murder. And remember my telling you about him bashing into me outside and blathering about how somebody was blaming him for something he didn't do?"
“But nobody would have been blaming him then for Sam's death. Nobody believed us then that he was dead."
“No, Shelley, somebody could have been accusing him. Even if nobody believed us, Sam was dead by then. The murderer knew Sam was dead. And so did Henry McCoy — who might be one and the same."
“If you believe Henry's story via Marge, the murderer might not have known he succeeded in _killing Sam," Shelley said. "He — let's say Lucky Smith — might have had only a dim memory of smacking somebody with something. I don't say Luckycouldn't have done exactly that, but I'm more inclined to think it was somebody blaming him for the silly stunts. The missing keys and such. For which he probably was responsible."
“It does seem his speed," Jane admitted. "We're not getting anywhere. Somebody killed Sam Claypool, and we're no closer to figuring out who he was."
“He or she," Shelley corrected.
“What 'she'? Who did we leave out?”
Shelley nodded toward the doorway to the lobby. Edna Titus was standing there, hands on hips, looking around the room.
“You two haven't seen Sheriff Taylor, have you? I need to find him."
“Why?" Jane asked bluntly.
“To confess," Edna replied with equal candor.