only window, looking out at the parking lot. Carol Ann, her ponytail restored to glossy perfection, sat upright in the chair across from Miriam. She watched Mark Anthony with the intensity of a cobra after a mouse.
“Hello, Quill,” Mark Anthony said. “Glad you could make it.”
“I’m not glad to be here, under the circumstances,” she said honestly. “I’m sure we can get this all cleared up quickly.” She looked at Howie. “And should we be doing this without Adela? I think she would want to be here, too.”
“She took off in that underpowered little Toyota and no one’s seen her since,” Carol Ann said. “She’s on the lam.”
Quill looked at her watch. “Marge adjourned the Chamber meeting at eleven thirty. It’s twelve thirty now. I doubt that she’s on the lam. She’s probably at home.”
“Crying her eyes out,” Miriam agreed. “This whole thing is shameful.”
Quill nodded. “I think so, too. Adela should be here toanswer these ridiculous charges. Besides, don’t you need her permission to access the fete account?”
“Well, no, we don’t,” Mark Anthony said. “We just need the written permission of someone on the fete committee. Everyone on the committee is signatory to the account.”
“Oh,” Quill said. She’d been afraid of that.
Mark Anthony passed his hand over his skull. He’d recently taken to shaving his head and his skull shone like polished ebony under the fluorescent lights. “You’re on the committee,” he added.
“True.” She bit her lower lip.
“So if you could just sign this?” He picked up a legal-sized piece of paper. “We can proceed. Perhaps you’d like to join us at the table?”
Reluctantly, Quill abandoned the safety of her corner and sat down at the table. She cast a quick glance over the permission affidavit, and then scrawled her name at the bottom.
Mark Anthony nodded gravely, filed the affidavit in a manila folder, and then tapped at the computer. He waited a moment, his eyes on the screen. “Any idea how much should be in this account?”
Quill patted at her skirt pockets and withdrew the sketch pad she used for Chamber meeting notes. The fete committee notes were on it, too. “I don’t know why everyone insists on making me secretary. I’m not a very good one.”
“No kidding,” Carol Ann said.
“It’s because you never say no,” Marge said. “And you shut up, Carol Ann.”
“I don’t recall making any notes about the budget.” She flipped through the pages and paused. “Okay. This is it. At the last meeting Adela reported that all of the booths had been sold and that eighty percent of the fees had been collected. So at a hundred dollars a day…” She trailed off.
“Sixty thousand dollars, give or take,” Marge said.
Quill flipped the page. “There’s ticket money, advertising revenues for the program…Aha! Here it is. I have a subtotal here of one hundred thousand seven hundred and twenty dollars and sixty-five cents.”
Mark Anthony frowned. Davy leaned over his shoulder and frowned, too.
“What’s the balance in the account?” Quill asked.
“Twenty sixty-five,” Davy said.
“Twenty thousand and change?” Marge snorted. “She could have paid the tent bill and the landscapers already. I wouldn’t call that definitive.”
“No,” Davy said. “Twenty dollars and sixty-five cents.”
The room was filled with a shocked silence.
Carol Ann shot her fist into the air in victory. “I knew it!” She whirled, her eyes glittering in triumph, and faced Davy Kiddermeister. “Sheriff, I demand you arrest that woman.”
“There could be a good explanation for this, Carol Ann,” Howie Murchison said testily. “Mark, when was the money moved?”
The banker tapped at the computer. “Late last night. The transaction was recorded at 3:14 a.m.”
“Where to?”
Mark shook his head and muttered to himself. He continued to tap at the keys.
“Right to that woman’s bank account, that’s
“Hello, Quill,” Mark Anthony said. “Glad you could make it.”
“I’m not glad to be here, under the circumstances,” she said honestly. “I’m sure we can get this all cleared up quickly.” She looked at Howie. “And should we be doing this without Adela? I think she would want to be here, too.”
“She took off in that underpowered little Toyota and no one’s seen her since,” Carol Ann said. “She’s on the lam.”
Quill looked at her watch. “Marge adjourned the Chamber meeting at eleven thirty. It’s twelve thirty now. I doubt that she’s on the lam. She’s probably at home.”
“Crying her eyes out,” Miriam agreed. “This whole thing is shameful.”
Quill nodded. “I think so, too. Adela should be here toanswer these ridiculous charges. Besides, don’t you need her permission to access the fete account?”
“Well, no, we don’t,” Mark Anthony said. “We just need the written permission of someone on the fete committee. Everyone on the committee is signatory to the account.”
“Oh,” Quill said. She’d been afraid of that.
Mark Anthony passed his hand over his skull. He’d recently taken to shaving his head and his skull shone like polished ebony under the fluorescent lights. “You’re on the committee,” he added.
“True.” She bit her lower lip.
“So if you could just sign this?” He picked up a legal-sized piece of paper. “We can proceed. Perhaps you’d like to join us at the table?”
Reluctantly, Quill abandoned the safety of her corner and sat down at the table. She cast a quick glance over the permission affidavit, and then scrawled her name at the bottom.
Mark Anthony nodded gravely, filed the affidavit in a manila folder, and then tapped at the computer. He waited a moment, his eyes on the screen. “Any idea how much should be in this account?”
Quill patted at her skirt pockets and withdrew the sketch pad she used for Chamber meeting notes. The fete committee notes were on it, too. “I don’t know why everyone insists on making me secretary. I’m not a very good one.”
“No kidding,” Carol Ann said.
“It’s because you never say no,” Marge said. “And you shut up, Carol Ann.”
“I don’t recall making any notes about the budget.” She flipped through the pages and paused. “Okay. This is it. At the last meeting Adela reported that all of the booths had been sold and that eighty percent of the fees had been collected. So at a hundred dollars a day…” She trailed off.
“Sixty thousand dollars, give or take,” Marge said.
Quill flipped the page. “There’s ticket money, advertising revenues for the program…Aha! Here it is. I have a subtotal here of one hundred thousand seven hundred and twenty dollars and sixty-five cents.”
Mark Anthony frowned. Davy leaned over his shoulder and frowned, too.
“What’s the balance in the account?” Quill asked.
“Twenty sixty-five,” Davy said.
“Twenty thousand and change?” Marge snorted. “She could have paid the tent bill and the landscapers already. I wouldn’t call that definitive.”
“No,” Davy said. “Twenty dollars and sixty-five cents.”
The room was filled with a shocked silence.
Carol Ann shot her fist into the air in victory. “I knew it!” She whirled, her eyes glittering in triumph, and faced Davy Kiddermeister. “Sheriff, I demand you arrest that woman.”
“There could be a good explanation for this, Carol Ann,” Howie Murchison said testily. “Mark, when was the money moved?”
The banker tapped at the computer. “Late last night. The transaction was recorded at 3:14 a.m.”
“Where to?”
Mark shook his head and muttered to himself. He continued to tap at the keys.
“Right to that woman’s bank account, that’s
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