“What hurts most is maintenance. The older buildings suck up money.
“Guess they were built before insulation.”
“Old Main was put up in 1834.”
Cynthia picked up the last book, a green clothbound book, longer than it was wide. She opened it to the figures page without checking the front. As she merrily clicked in numbers, she hummed. “Do you remember what cost five thousand dollars the first week of September? It says ‘W.T.’ ” She pointed to the ledger.
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Cynthia punched in more numbers.
“Hey, here’s a good one.” Little Mim laughed, reading out loud. ” ‘Big Mim suggested I butter up Darla McKinchie and get her to pry money out of Kendrick. I told her Darla has no interest in St. Elizabeth’s, in her husband’s career and, as best I can tell, no affection for the state of Virginia . She replied, “How common!”
Little Mim shook her head. “Leave it to Mother. She can’t ever let me have something for myself. I’m on the board, she isn’t.”
“She’s trying to help.”
Marilyn’s hazel eyes clouded. “Help? My mother wants to run every committee, organization, potential campaign. She’s indefatigable.”
“What cost forty-one thousand dollars?”
Little Mim put down Roscoe’s record book to look at the ledger. “Forty-one thousand dollars October twenty-eighth. Roscoe was dead by then.” She grabbed the ledger, flipping back to the front. “Slush fund. What the hell is this?”
Coop couldn’t believe she’d heard Little Mini swear. “I suppose most organizations have a kitty, although this is quite a large one.”
“I’ll say.” Little Mini glanced over the incoming sums. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” She reached for the phone, punching numbers as she exhaled loudly. “April, it’s Marilyn Sanburne.” She pressed the “speaker” button so that Coop could hear as well.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Actually, I am,” came the curt reply. “Roscoe’s record book is priceless. What is this green ledger?”
“I have no idea.”
“April, don’t expect me to believe you. Why else would you remove these papers and accounting books? You must have known about the slush fund.”
“First of all, given everyone’s temper these days, a public reading of Roscoe’s record book is not a good idea. Second, I have no idea what the slush fund was. Roscoe never once mentioned it to me. I found that book in his desk.”
“Could Maury have started giving St. Elizabeth’s an endowment?”
“Without fanfare? He was going to give, all right, but we were going to have to kiss his ass in Macy’s window.”
Little Mim bit her lip. “April, I’ve misjudged you.”
“Is that a formal apology?” April asked. Yes.
“I accept.”
“Sandy Brashiers couldn’t have handled this,” Little Mim admit ted.
“He’d have fumbled the ball. All we need is for the papers to get wind of this before we know what it’s all about,” April said.
“You have no idea?” Little Mim pressed.
“No. But you’ll notice the incoming sums are large and regular. Usually between the tenth and fifteenth of each month.”
“Let me see that.” Coop snatched the green book out of Little Mim’s hands. “Damn!”
“What?” Little Mim said.
Cynthia grabbed the phone. “April, seventy-five thousand dollars came in the week after Roscoe died. It’s not reflected in the ledger, but there is a red dot by October tenth. For the other deposits, there’s a red dot with a black line through it.”
“Primitive but effective bookkeeping,” April said.
“Did you know a Jiffy bag with seventy-five thousand dollars arrived in Roscoe’s mailbox at Crozet on October”—she figured a moment—“twelfth. I’m pretty sure it was the twelfth.”
“I didn’t know a thing about it.”
“But sometimes you would pick up Roscoe’s personal mail for him?”
“Infrequently . . . but yes.”
“Do you remember other Jiffy bags?”
“Cooper, most books are sent in bags like that.”
“Do you swear to me you don’t know what this money represents?”
“I swear, but I know it represents something not right. That’s why I cleaned everything out. I didn’t mind sitting in jail. I felt safe.”
“One last question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you believe that Kendrick Miller killed Roscoe and Maury?”
“Roscoe loathed him. But, no, I don’t.”
“He says he blew up in a rage.”
“Show him the ledger.”
“I’m going to do just that. One more question. I promise this is the last one. Do you think Naomi knows about the ledger?”
A pause. “If she did, we’d see the money. Even if just a pair of expensive earrings.”
“Thanks, April.”
“Are you going to prosecute me for obstructing justice?”
“I’m not the legal eagle, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Okay.” April hung up, satisfied.
“Marilyn, I need this ledger. I won’t publicize it, but I need to show it to Kendrick and Naomi. This is starting to look like money-laundering. Question is, was Kendrick Miller involved in it?”
The next day Kendrick examined the figures closely but said nothing. Cynthia could have bashed him.
Naomi appeared genuinely shocked by the secret bookkeeping.
All Rick Shaw said when he read through the book was, “Dammit to hell!”
68
“Stick Vicks VapoRub up your nose.” Rick handed over the small blue glass jar to Cynthia Cooper as they cut the motor to the squad car.
She fished out a big dab, smoothing it inside each nostril. The tears sprang from her eyes.
“Ready?”
“Yep.” She noticed that the photographer was already there. The rescue squad would soon follow. “Boy, George Bowden looks rough.”
“Probably puked his guts out. Natural reaction.”
“George.” Rick walked over, leaves crunching underfoot. “Feel up to some questions?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded.
“What time did you discover the body?”
“Well, now, let me see. I set the alarm for four o’clock ‘cause I wanted to be at the edge of the oat fields just on my way down to the hayfields. Good year for grouse, I can tell you. Anyway, uh”—he rubbed his back pockets in an upward motion—“got here about four forty-five, thereabouts. The kids set up a ruckus. Followed them.” He indicated his hunting dogs as the kids.
Cynthia carefully walked around the car. The Vicks killed the stench but couldn’t do much about the sight. She dusted each door handle. As she was quietly doing her job, another member of the department, Tom Kline, arrived. He gagged.
“Vicks.” She pointed to the squad car.
He jammed the stuff up his nose, then returned, carefully investigating the car.
“Guys, I’m going to open the door. It’ll be a real hit even with the Vicks. We need to dust the inside door handles, the glove compartment, just hope we’re lucky. We aren’t going to get anything off the body.”
When the door was opened, George, although twenty yards away, stepped backward. “My God.”
“Walk on back here with me.” Rick led him out of olfactory range. “It’s overpowering. The carbon cycle.”
“What?”
“Carbon. The breakdown of flesh.” Since George wasn’t getting it, Rick switched back to business. “Did you notice anything unusual apart from the corpse? Footprints?”
“Sheriff, that thing’s been out here so long, any footprints would be washed out.”
“A month to six weeks. ‘Course, we’ve had some cold spells. Bill Moscowitz can pinpoint the time for us. Bad as it is, the corpse would be torn apart if it had been out of the car. The fact that it’s relatively intact may help us.”
“Tire tracks washed out, too. I mean, I would have noticed tire tracks before. Would have come on down.”
“You haven’t been over here?”
“Been up on the mountain fields, no reason to come down here. Hay’s not worth cutting this year anyway. Forgot to fertilize. Mostly I’ve been working on the mountainside of the farm because of the apples. Good year.”