Fear of Frying

the van stopped, tottered like a seesaw for a moment, then gently, gracefully, toppled backwards into the creek below.
    By the time the sheriff got his vehicle stopped on the brink of the creek, John Claypool had crawled out and was in the water, clinging to the door of the van and cursing horribly.
    Shelley looked at Jane and said, in a dead calm voice, “I don’t think we want to ride back with him. Let’s walk.”
    She and Jane got out of the sheriff’s car and headed briskly back toward their cabin.
    “Shelley,“ Jane said after they’d gone a little ways, “I think this is about the only walk I’ve ever actually enjoyed.”

    Those members of the committee who both survived the trip and remained at large attended a brief meeting of the city council two weeks later. There was no discussion and a quick, unanimous vote not to contract with Benson Titus for a summer camp. Liz was disappointed. She’d prepared a largish booklet of her arguments against the proposal and hadn’t even mentioned murder, but nobody wanted or needed to read it.
    Marge, with a new hairstyle, and Eileen arrived last and left first, and were polite but didn’t seem the least inclined to chat. Bob Rycraft brought two of his little girls, and they headed for the ice cream ;tore within seconds of the vote. Al only popped his head in the door for a moment, said, “I vote no,“ and disappeared.
    Shelley and Jane were left with Liz.
    “I took a casserole over to Marge,“ Liz said. “For the funeral. But I didn’t know what to do about Eileen.“
    “She filed for divorce within hours of getting back home, you know,“ Shelley said.
    “I saw that in the paper,“ Liz said. “Poor Eileen. Married to a murderer. Do you think she ever suspected?“
    “Probably not until she came out of the shower and discovered he’d left her and was trying to run from the sheriff,“ Jane said. “She called me yesterday. Just to tell me she had no hard feelings about my role in the whole thing. Her son’s come home, she says. Apparently he never got along with his father, which is why he chose to live so far away.“
    “And the senior Claypools? What’s to become of them?“ Liz asked.
    “They had a nasty weekend, too, even before learning that one of their sons had killed the other,“ Jane said. “Eileen told me they managed to lock all the household help outside and decided since it was cold, it would be cheaper to warm up by burning some old furniture rather than turn on the furnace. Smoke was belching out some broken windows and the fire department had to break in. The experience must have pushed them both over the edge. Eileen’s son, their only blood kin, has been appointed Conservator. Popped them in a very nice nursing home and is trying to get the house in shape.“
    “Poor Eileen,“ Liz said. “And poor Marge. Whatever will they do? I guess Marge will have to sell the car dealership.”
    Jane said, “Don’t be too sure of that. Eileen tells me they’re considering running it themselves. They’ve signed up for some business management and auto mechanics classes and are trying to find a manager to run it while they get up to speed.”
    Liz narrowed her eyes. “Ah-hah! I heard Al on the phone the other night, giving someone advice about business managers. He wouldn’t tell me who he was talking to. I’ll bet— Where is he, anyway? Probably lost again.“
    “Liz,“ Jane said with a laugh, “there are only about five rooms in this building! How could he get lost?“
    “I don’t know. I’ve never understood it.“ She picked up her stack of booklets and went in search of him.
    Shelley grinned. “I think getting lost is one of Al’s best skills. Are you free tomorrow?“
    “Sure. What do you want to do?“
    “I thought we might drive up and take a look at the Claypool mansion. You never know—it might be a great place for a summer camp.”