“So these directorships are small potatoes,” I said. “Meaning he’s not a major mover and shaker in the Virginia business community.”
“I expect his former employer arranged the directorships,” Stanley said. “It’s the sort of small perk that probably would get handed out to a loyal if minor retiree. The directors usually get paid for attending meetings, so it’s a little extra something on top of your pension.”
“Is that all he does?” I asked. “He sits on boards?”
“And meddles in town affairs,” Stanley said. “He’s on the town council. And squabbles with the ladies—at least he did when Cordelia was alive. Haven’t been many fireworks between him and Miss Annabel over the last six months, if you don’t count her repeated letters to the editor calling for him to be arrested for Cordelia’s murder. And to everyone’s surprise, he’s taking her campaign quite philosophically. Seems out of character.”
“Maybe not if it was Cordelia, rather than both ladies, leading the charge against him,” I said. “Maybe he knows that no matter how much Miss Annabel hates and suspects him, she can’t cause him much trouble if she won’t poke her nose outside her own front door. So if that’s all you’ve found, why do you seem to be coming around to Miss Annabel’s point of view?”
He frowned and leaned back in his seat as if the question required some thought.
“Not sure yet,” he said, after a few moments.
“Hunch?” I suggested. “Or gut feeling, if you prefer that term.”
“Try taking that into court,” he said, with a grimace.
“My cousin, Rose Noire, says that a hunch is a deduction your subconscious has made from evidence you don’t yet know you have,” I said. “And all you need to do is bring the evidence up into your conscious mind.”
“I agree with her, but that’s easier said than done,” he said. “So far the only thing my conscious mind has found is that there is bad blood between the two households, going way back. I’ve been reading the letters to the editor in the local rag. Can’t do too much at a time without coming down with a killer eyestrain headache, so I’m only five years into it, but some of Weaver’s letters are downright scary. And these are the letters the paper printed.”
“His letters,” I repeated. “What about Cordelia’s side of the quarrel?”
“She comes off well, if you ask me,” he said. “She doesn’t mince words, but she’s logical, articulate, credible. Rational, even when angry. She’s wielding a rapier. Weaver’s just spewing bile and lava. The venom pulses off the page. I’m thinking of running the texts by a shrink I know. Because the man who wrote those letters—I can see him committing murder.”
“He seemed pretty normal when I talked to him this afternoon,” I said. “Grouchy but rational.”
“The same with his letters to the editor in the last six months,” Stanley said. “A changed man. Clearly her death removed a major stressor from his life.”
“So is he merely feeling mellow because he outlived his worst enemy,” I asked. “Or is he also smug because he’s gotten away with murder?”
“Gotten away with it so far.” Stanley frowned and shook his head. “But what if he’s starting to worry?”
“Because of our arrival, you mean?” I asked. “You’re worried that having us here—and more particularly you—might make him decide he needs to get rid of Annabel, too.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he said. “That’s the reason I was lurking there behind the houses. Well, that and the mysterious, possibly lethal present someone left for your grandfather. I thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on things. But I can’t do that full time, even if I didn’t have the murder case to pursue. Maybe Weaver is just worried that some of the campers will trespass on his lawn, and maybe it was only a deer you spotted after he went inside—but you never know. Can you talk to Miss Annabel? I’d feel a lot better if I knew she had a good security system installed in the house.”
He rummaged for a few moments in the tall but tidy stack of papers that sat beside him on the banquette and held out a business card.
“Friend of mine who does stuff like that,” he said. “Mention my name and he’ll give her fast service and a rock-bottom rate.”
I nodded as I took out my notebook and tucked the card safely in the front pocket.
“Weaver’s behavior is another reason I’m taking Annabel’s theory a little more seriously,” Stanley said.