War and Peas

said. She joined Babs at the board table and said, “Since you’ve been so frank with Shelley and me, do you mind if I ask you a question?“
    “Fire away,“ Babs said cheerfully. “If I don’t know the answer, I’ll make one up.“
    “Well, I have the impression that the board of directors thought that Georgia Snellen was helping herself to some of the funds she collected for the museum.”
    It would be too much to say Babs looked surprised, but she was mildly startled. “I believe ‘think’ is the operative word. There was never any evidence of cheating. Merely suspicions. For example, the cash collected at any given activity always slightly exceeded the number of receipts—“
    “I don’t understand.“
    “Then think back to your work at the booth at the Pea Festival. We’re a nonprofit organization—a 501 (c) (3) in IRS talk—and if somebody buys an item from the booth, the person working there is supposed to offer them a receipt for the difference between our actual cost and the amount we sell it for, and the purchaser can take it as a tax deduction.“
    “Oh, dear. We didn’t do that,“ Jane said.
    “You were working under emergency conditions. I don’t imagine anyone thought to tell you. Anyway, most times people don’t want to wait for a receipt, or it’s such a small amount they don’t think it’s worth figuring into their taxes. And lots of times, because it’s a charitable institution, people often deliberately overpay or refuse to take their change back. So you end up with more cash than receipts to account for it. And Georgia always did end up with excess cash. But not as much as we’d expect. The gift shop, for example, averages about twelve percent extra cash. Georgia always turned in about three percent extra. And that’s not proof of anything. You could postulate that Georgia has such an abrasive manner that people are less likely to be generous with her.“
    “Yes, but I understood that she’s quite good at raising money,“ Jane said.
    Babs looked at Jane with an arched eyebrow. “That is true,“ she said. “But proof is proof and speculation’s quite another thing.“ She made clear that this was all she was willing to say about the matter and Jane let it go.
    “May I ask you something else, then?“ Babs nodded.
    “Sharlene told me that Regina and Whitney were supposed to be announcing their engagement at the groundbreaking ceremony. But she also hinted that Regina hadn’t exactly rushed into committing to marriage.“
    “Right again,“ Babs said.
    “Do you know why that is?“ Jane asked. “What an odd question,“ Babs said. “Why do you ask?“
    “I’m not sure,“ Jane answered honestly. “I’m just curious about Regina, I guess. I never met her, you know. But from what I hear about her, it’s hard to imagine that she’d inspire murderous rage in anyone.”
    Babs laughed softly. “That’s perilously close to damning with faint praise.“
    “I didn’t mean it that way,“ Jane said.
    “No, dear, I know you didn’t. I can’t really answer that. If Regina had confided in me why she was hesitant about marrying, I wouldn’t feel I could break that confidence. As it happens, she didn’t. She wasn’t a confiding sort of woman. Frankly, I have a theory about it, but it’s merely theory and it would be irresponsible to put it out as anything else—“
    “Babs. There you are,“ Lisa said from the doorway. “Did you get the message from Jumper? He said he’s on the way and please wait if you can.“
    “Thank you, Lisa. Sharlene told me. Lisa, I don’t mean to be insulting, but you look exhausted. Why don’t you go home and rest?“
    “I was just planning to.“ She jingled her car keys in her hand to illustrate the truth of this. As Lisa started to move away, Babs said, “I’ll walk you out. I need to talk to you about one of the phone calls I made—excuse me, will you, Jane?”
    Lisa and Babs went off together and Jane went back to work. But something was nagging at her. Something she couldn’t quite get hold of. She sat back and closed her eyes for a minute, trying to tease the idea out of hiding, but couldn’t lure it into the light. It was something that Shelley had said recently. She opened her eyes and looked at the stuffed cat. “Heidi, if only you could talk. Or even listen,“ she said. “Wonder if Auguste Snellen named a pea for you.”
    She returned to the computer and a moment later, as she had hoped, the elusive