"What's the trouble, Qwill?" Mildred asked when he sat down again.
"Andy Brodie called. He knew Fran was here with Danielle. It's bad news. Very bad! The Detroit police got in touch with him. You know Willard left yesterday to attend a conference - "
"An air crash?" Mildred asked, clutching her throat.
"No he arrived safely and was registered at a hotel. Apparently he was walking to a restaurant when he was mugged. And shot... "
"Fatally?" Pender asked under his breath.
"Fatally."
"Oh, my God!" Mildred said in a horrified whisper. "They're still trying to break the news to her gently."
At that moment there was a shriek from the library.
Larry returned to the room and faced the diners. "Friends," he said, "you won't feel like eating your dessert."
-6-
The WPKX bulletin about the homicide sent the entire county into shock and rage, and individuals wanted to share their feelings with others. When thwarted by busy signals on the phone, they went out in the snow and cold to gather in public places and bemoan the loss of Willard Carmichael, who had died in such an unthinkable way. Qwilleran, with his usual compulsion to take the public pulse, joined them and listened to their comments:
"Those cities Down Below are jungles! He shouldn'ta went there!"
:We've lost a good man. He would have been an asset to the community. He attended our church."
"What'll happen now? He was married to that young girl. They'd bought the Fitch house."
"I feel sorry for his wife. We shoulda been nicer to her, even though she didn't fit in."
"If she moves back Down Below, she's nuts!"
"The church'll send their Home Visitors to call on her and try to give her some comforting thoughts."
With grim amusement Qwilleran visualized Danielle receiving these well- intentioned visitors with their "comforting thoughts."
With grim amusement Qwilleran visualized Danielle receiving these well- intentioned visitors with their "comforting thoughts." That alone would drive her back Down Below, where her citified wardrobe would be appreciated, and where she could buy a kinkajou. No doubt Willard had provided for her generously.
While downtown he stopped at the design studio, expecting Fran Brodie to be up-to-date on developments. The husky delivery man was there alone. "She flew Down Below with that woman," he said. "I'm mindin' the store till the boss gets back from a call, if that's what's she's doin'. I think she's goofin' off."
Qwilleran went to the department store for more details and found the compassionate Carol Lanspeak still distraught. "Fran took Danielle home last night and stayed with her, and my daughter went over and gave her a sedative. Danielle's a good customer of Fran's and feels comfortable with her, so we thought Fran should be the one to take her to Detroit. We got in touch with
Carter Lee James, and he's meeting them at the airport and taking care of everything. Fran will stay in the airport hotel tonight and come right home tomorrow. We don't want her wandering around in that city!"
"I predict Danielle won't return," said Qwilleran, influenced by wishful thinking.
"Well, maybe not, but if she does, we want to have a quiet little dinner for her, and we want you and Polly to be there. Danielle likes you, Qwill."
He hoped the day would never come. He had always disliked women who were sexually aggressive. Melinda Goodwinter, broke and in need of a rich husband, had been a problem. Now he feared he would have a merry widow on his trail, winking and pouting and remarking about his moustache. Danielle was not one to wear black for very long, if at all.
His next stop was the newspaper office. It was late morning, and the staff was on deadline. Junior Goodwinter, the young managing editor, was writing an editorial in the nature of a tribute to Willard. Roger MacGillivray was punching out a piece on the banking improvements instituted by the victim. Jill Handley was on the phone collecting laudatory quotes to be used in a human interest feature. q Qwilleran found the publisher at his massive executive desk, juggling two phones. "What's the latest?" he asked when Riker had a breathing space.
"I talked to Brodie. He's in touch with the Detroit police, but I'm afraid Willard is just another statistic. Thousands of homicides go unsolved Down Below."
Qwilleran said, "He had wanted Danielle to go with him. If she had been along, no doubt they would have taxied to the restaurant, and this wouldn't have happened - or, at least, the odds would have been better. If she's sensitive enough or smart enough to figure that out, she could feel guilty."
"Well, we'll never know. She won't come back," Riker predicted, shaking his head soberly. On his way out of the executive suite, Qwilleran was hailed by Hixie Rice. He went into the promotion office and sat down.
"What do you know?" she asked.
"No more than you do."
"It was a shocker. Willard was a nice guy - cocky but kind of sweet. He worked with Mildred and me on the organization of the club and the dinner menu. What did you think of it?"
"Everything was excellent. I don't know about the dessert. No one felt like eating dessert."
"And wouldn't you know. The dessert was my contribution!" Hixie had a long history of major and minor disappointments, yet she always bounced back. "How about lunch, Qwill? I'll buy and put it on my expense account."
"Those are the word I love to hear." She started pulling on her boots. "We'll drive to Mooseville and eat at the Northern Lights. That's headquarters for the Ice Festival, and I want to fill you in on the plans. You might get a slant for your column. We'll take my van. How do you like your four-over-four?"
"It takes more gas, and the cats find it a little bumpier."
"Willard drove a Land-Rover, and you could probably get a good deal on it. I'm sure Danielle won't kept it. He bought her a Ferrari."
"She flew to Detroit this morning, and I doubt whether she'll come back. She didn't want to move here in the first place," he said.
"But didn't they buy the Fitch house?"
"That was to humor her. I doubt whether Carter Lee will return, either. The Pleasant Street project was half Willard's idea, and the bank was going to finance it. Without him, I don't know.... "
"Too bad. Carter Lee was a really neat guy. He always wore monogrammed shirts." Then after a few moments' silence, Hixie said, "After some serious reflection I can see why a man of Willard's age would marry a gorgeous young woman like Danielle, but why would she marry him, except for his money?"
"Don't forget," Qwilleran reminded her, "Willard could cook."
The turned onto the lakeshore drive, where beach houses were boarded-up, snowed-in, bleak and forbidding. Mooseville, a teeming fishing village in summer, was chillingly quiet in January, and relentlessly white. Piers protruded blackly from the white frozen lake. On Main Street, where most commercial enterprises were closed, the dark log cabins and pseudo-log cabins had snow in their chinks and on their rooftops. Dark evergreens drooped with their white burden. The fishing fleet and pleasure craft were somewhere else, in dry dock.
They parked at the Northern Lights Hotel, overlooking the expanse of ice that extended to the horizon. Far, far out it was dotted with a row of black fishing shanties, like dominoes. In the dining room there was one waiter and a limited menu: fried fish sandwich with lumbercamp fries and cole slaw.
Hixie said, "The Ice Festival will be a shot in the arm for the shoreline. By the end of January, the ice on the lake will be twenty inches thick at least. All of the activities will take place on the ice: races, tournaments, hospitality, and entertainment."
"What kind of races?"
"Dogsled, snowmobile, motorcycle, cross-country ski, snowshoe, and ice skate. Plows will clear the race tracks and rinks, building up snow barriers as viewing ridges for spectators. Other areas will be cleared for hospitality tents... And see those fishing shanties out there? We'll have twice that many for the tournament. They've signed up already. Colleges all over are sending artists to the snow sculpture competition. And there'll be a torchlight parade on Friday night to kick off the whole exciting weekend!"