Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Back at Nans’ apartment, Ruth was already typing, her fingers moving rapidly across her iPad screen.
“What are you doing?” Helen asked, setting down her teacup.
“Calling in a favor.”
Ida leaned over her shoulder to see that she was scrolling through her contacts. “From Louisa Florio?”
Ruth nodded without looking up. “Her family’s Italian restaurant is on the road parallel to town hall. They have a security camera pointed at the parking lot which also happens to point in the direction of town hall.”
“Would that show the back entrance?” Nans asked, setting down her marker.
“Maybe. Depends on the angle.” Ruth found the number and tapped it. “And Louisa owes me after the turkey incident.”
“What turkey incident?” Helen asked.
“Thanksgiving. Don’t ask.”
Nans nodded approvingly, a small smile on her face.
Ida opened her purse and produced a half dozen cookies wrapped in a big napkin—peppermint pinwheels, gingerbread men, and what looked like snickerdoodles. She set them on the table like playing cards. “Bribe material.”
Helen stared at the napkin. “Of course you have bribe material.”
“I always have bribe material,” Ida said proudly. “Preparedness is a virtue.”
Ruth put the call on speaker and set the iPad in the center of the table. It rang once. Twice.
Louisa answered on the second ring, sounding harried. “Ruth? Is everything okay?”
“Louisa, I need a small favor.” Ruth’s voice was calm, efficient. “Do you still have your parking lot camera footage from last night and this morning?”
A pause. Dishes clattered in the background. Someone shouted something in Italian.
“I do,” Louisa said slowly. “Why?”
“Stanley Hooper.”
Louisa sucked in a breath sharp enough to hear through the speaker. “Oh my gosh. I heard. People are coming in here talking about it like it’s the only thing happening in the world.”
“We’re trying to help,” Ruth said. “We’ll trade you Christmas cookies. Fresh from The Cup and Cake.”
Another pause. The background noise faded slightly, like Louisa had moved to a quieter spot. “Okay, deal. But Ruth, if this gets my family involved in something—“
“It won’t. We just need to see who was around town hall this morning.”
“Fine. I’ll send my nephew over with the drive.”
“Thank you, Louisa.”
“You’re going to owe me more than cookies,” Louisa muttered, and hung up.
Within an hour, Louisa’s teenage nephew dropped off a thumb drive, accepted the wrapped cookies with wide eyes, and left without asking questions.
They gathered around Ruth’s laptop at the dining room table, the teacups pushed aside to make room. Ruth plugged in the drive and pulled up the video files.
The footage was grainy, snow-dotted, black and white, but clear enough to make out shapes and movement.
“There,” Nans said, pointing at the timestamp.
At four-fifty-eight a.m., a truck rolled past town hall—slowly, like someone looking for parking.
“Whose truck?” Ida asked.
“Can’t tell from this angle,” Ruth murmured.
At five-ten a.m., a figure walked toward the back of the building where the storage room was located. Bulky coat, knit cap pulled low, moving with purpose—not hurrying, but not dawdling either.
“That’s Stanley,” Nans said quietly.
“How can you tell?” Helen leaned closer to the screen.
“The walk. Stiff. Purposeful.” Nans tapped the screen. “Like a man on a mission.”
At five-eighteen a.m., a second figure arrived—shorter, slighter, moving faster—and went inside through the same back entrance.
Ruth paused the video and zoomed in on the second figure.
“That one is Vivian,” she said, her voice certain. “I recognize the coat. Red with that distinctive fur-trimmed hood. She wore it at the last committee meeting.”
“So Vivian was there early,” Helen said.
“She said six,” Ida corrected.
“Close enough,” Nans murmured. “But are we sure the first one is Stanley?”
Ruth rewound and zoomed in on the first figure. The resolution degraded into pixels, but the outline was visible—broad shoulders, deliberate stride.
“Could be Stanley,” Helen said.
“Could be Noah,” Ida offered.
“Could be anyone in a winter coat,” Ruth said, frustration creeping into her voice.
Nans leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Play it again.”
Ruth rewound and played it again. At five-ten a.m., the first figure disappeared into the storage room.
At five-eighteen a.m., Vivian rushed in.
At five-twenty a.m., Vivian ran out, moving fast, looking panicked.
“She found him,” Ruth said.
“Or killed him,” Ida added
Nans shook her head. “Not enough time to kill him, I don’t think.”
“And then what?” Helen asked.
They kept watching.
At five-twenty-nine a.m., a third figure appeared—taller, wearing work boots and a different coat.
“That’s Eddie. I recognize the walk.”
“So Eddie comes in after Vivian runs out.”
“Which means he’s lying about going in there.”
Ruth’s eyes widened. “So Stanley goes into the storage room at five-ten. Vivian arrives at five-eighteen.”
“So, she found him dead?” Helan asked.
“Or killed him,” Ida suggested.
“Or he was still alive and she just ran out because he was a jerk,” Nans said.
“Then Eddie shows up,” Ruth said. “Maybe he killed him.”
“Unless it really was an accident,” Helen suggested.
“Stanley could have been climbing the shelf for his lockbox,” Nans said.
“And it collapsed.” Ida crunched into a cookie to illustrate.
“But if Stanley was dead, why did neither of them call the police?” Ruth asked.
“And what about the glitter on Eddie’s shoe?” Ida said. “Vivian mentioned a glittery bag that got stolen.”
Nans stood. “Ladies, I think we need to talk to Vivian.”