Marcia Muller - The Tree of Death

“Can you blame me?”

“No.”

She got up and motioned me toward her chair, but I declined and perched on the edge of the desk instead. I rapped with a letter opener against Maria’s coffee cup to get everyone’s attention. The crowd quieted.

“From the looks of things,” I said, “I assume we’re ready to go. I’ll make an inspection tour right after this meeting to check details, though.”

“And recheck every fifteen minutes until the doors open,”‘ Jesse remarked from the back of the room. His tone was friendly and he smiled; obviously he’d forgotten our harsh words of the morning before.

“You guessed it. Right now I want to make sure we all know what to do. Jesse, you and Maria are going to take tickets and pass out the corsages, yes?”

“Right. The corsages are here, in a cool corner of the reform period gallery.”

“What on earth are they doing there?”

“The refrigerator’s full of food.”

“Oh. Okay. Food. Isabel, you and Vic are responsible for getting it onto platters and to the table. And you’ll supervise the people who are serving, right?”

“Right.”

“Now the important part-drinks. Tony?”

“The ice, it is in the buckets. We have mixed margaritas. The beer, it is in the coolers. And there are oh-so-many cans of soda pops.”

“And Susana will help you dispense it?”

“Dispense?”

“Susana will also play bartender?”‘

“Ah, yes.”

“Good. The mariachi band is setting up already. I’ll give them instructions about the music. Cleanup crews, please police the galleries regularly. We don’t want any of our collections damaged because people are careless with food and drink. Try not to let anyone smoke in there. And keep dirty plates and glasses picked up. It’ll make your job much easier afterwards. Did I forget anything?”

There was silence.

“Okay, I want everybody back here by five-thirty. And, even though we’re hosting this party, let’s enjoy it, too.”

There was a murmur, and some people began to get up.

I held up my hand. “Wait.”‘ I paused until I had everyone’s attention. “There’s another matter I should bring up now. I hope it doesn’t put a damper on the evening, but it’s something you should know.”

Their faces became serious.

“I’ve uncovered some irregularities here at the museum. They have to do with items not belonging to us, which were stored in the cellar. I found them, and they were removed without my permission before I could bring it to the attention of the police.” I waited, looking from one face to another. I saw varying degrees of surprise, but nothing more.

“Fortunately for us, whoever removed the items neglected a box of silver milagros, which was packed separately from the other things. I’ve left it down there until the police can take a look. As a precaution, I’ve locked the cellar door.” I took the large iron key from my pocket and held it up. “I thought I should let you know why the cellar is off limits until further notice.”‘ Then I turned to Maria. “Can I have the key to your desk?”

“Yes, but-”

“I want to lock this key in there. It’s cumbersome. Yours will be easier to put on my key ring.”

“Oh.” She dug in her purse and gave me a smaller key. The lock was one of those flimsy ones that could easily be opened with a credit card or nail file. In front of all the witnesses, I locked the cellar key in the desk drawer and pocketed the other one.

“Now,” I said, “let’s get on with our party.”

Everyone began filing out, and I went into my office. I slipped Maria’s key on the ring with my others and put the ring in the deep pocket of my dress. Everything was ready now; the trap was set, and I had only to explain it to Kirk when he showed up at the opening. It was time I got on with my duties as acting director.

I turned to see Tony standing in the door. “Elena, may we speak a moment?”

“Sure, Tony.”‘ I motioned for him to come in. He slouched into the room and stood, looking uncertain, in the middle of the Peruvian rug.

“Elena, those things in the cellar-why must you show them to the police?”

“Why? Don’t you think I should?”

“I did not say that. I do not even know why they are there.”

“Don’t you, Tony?”

“How could I know? I was not in the cellar.”

“Weren’t you?”

He rubbed a slender hand over his forehead. “Elena, you are giving me questions for my questions.”

“Yes, I am. What exactly is it you want, Tony?”

“I want to know about those things you found in the cellar.”

“They’re not in the cellar anymore. Someone took them.”‘

“What were they?”

“You know what they were, Tony.”

He clenched his fists. “I do not know.”

“Tony, the police are going to ask to see your passport.”

“My… what is my passport having to do with it?”

“It is ‘having to do’ a great deal. There are stamps in it, all sorts of little colorful stamps with dates on them. They’re proof of all those trips to South America.”

“Trips?” He tried to look innocent, but only succeeded in looking trapped.

“Trips. You might have been able to cover up buying the airline tickets-if you people hadn’t been so stupid as to use the museum’s travel agent and checkbook-but you can’t hide the proof in your passport. I guess you might rush home and destroy it and claim it’s been lost. But customs, both here and in South America, also keeps records.”

Tony’s face was ashen.

“You see, I know about it, Tony. All of it. I’ve only been waiting until after the opening to take it to the board-and the police.”

“Elena, why are you doing this? The museum… the scandal…”

“The museum will survive the scandal. I’ll see to that.”

“But where is your loyalty?”

“Loyalty? You talk to me of loyalty? Where was yours when you entered into this scheme?”

“Frank said it would not hurt.”

“Frank said a great many untrue things in his lifetime.”

“Elena, the dead… he is not even buried yet.”

“That doesn’t change the facts.”

“Elena, you must not do this!” He took a step forward, and lifted his arms as if to put his hands on my shoulders. Suddenly I was frightened. In my anger, I had set up a potentially volatile situation. I should never have spoken to Tony at all. He might be the killer. He might take his incriminating passport and run. He might never be apprehended.

I reached up and took his hands, almost recoiling at their touch. They were icy and trembling. “Okay, Tony, calm down.”

“But you must not do this!” His voice rose.

“Hush! Don’t yell.”

“Think, if not of me, of Susana. Think of what will happen to her. Deportation. Disgrace…”

“All right, Tony. I tell you what. We’ll talk about it after the party.”

A slight gleam of hope came into his eyes. Was it an act?

“You will think again about this? For the good of the museum? And Susana?”

“I’ll think about nothing else during the party. But, Tony, you have to do your part.”

“My part?”

“You must bartend as planned and say nothing of this to anyone-even Susana. For the good of the museum.” I released his hands, and his arms went limp at his sides.

“Elena, you will not regret this.”

If this wasn’t an act, I felt sorry for Tony-victimized by a greedy young wife who probably withheld her affection if he didn’t provide all the pretty things she desired. Used by Frank in his profit-making scheme and at the same time abused and ridiculed in front of others. And now he seemed to believe I would change my mind about revealing the embezzlements because he had pleaded for the sake of Susana.