Free Board Stiff (An Elliott Lisbon Mystery) by Kendel Lynn Page A

roses and lilies with a personal note about sympathy and strength. See if that gets a response.
    I leaned back in my chair, staring at the flower boxes outside the window. Trailing petunias, daisies, and clusters of magenta Sweet William attracted a pair of butterflies. Their lemon yellow wings flapped lazily around the planters.
    Parker didn’t give me much; Sully had been way more generous with his scraps. Difference in their personalities or the type of case? I admit murder wasn’t my usual type of case, though some incidents escalate rather quickly.
    Last year a former board member asked me to investigate her shoe closet. It rivaled the Nordstrom shoe department. I’d never seen so many pairs in one single place. Well, every day for four weeks, a different pair went missing. Hardly even noticeable, the closet was so vast. Turned out the nanny was selling them on eBay to supplement her salary. After I exposed the nanny as the thief, she stole another fifty pairs and set them on fire on the Big House lawn.
    It seemed the more complicated the case, the less cooperation I was going to get. I wasn’t looking forward to questioning Harry. Easier to pull weeds with my teeth than to get information out of Harry Fleet. Then there was Bebe Hirschorn. I needed her to provide the missing details about Saturday night. Like why she skipped the party and why she didn’t notice her husband dead in the den.
    Which reminded me of Tim Hanson, the propane delivery man who might have discovered Leo’s body if he wasn’t running late. Time to throw out a line and see what I could catch.
    I reached for my Rolodex, found Palmetto Propane, and dialed the main office. Five minutes later, the receptionist connected me with Tim.
    “Hi, Tim, I’m Elli with the Ballantyne Foundation, and I’m on the committee for the meeting Leo was hosting the other morning. Actually, I think you and I almost ran into each other out front. But you know, I can’t find a single order for propane, especially for a Sunday delivery. This paperwork’s a mess.”
    “Yeah, last minute rush. Hirschorn wanted a new set of larger tanks, had to have them that morning. Some special breakfast or something. I wouldn’t have even gone out there if he hadn’t promised he’d pay in cash, plus a bonus.”
    “Cash?”
    “His last two checks bounced and Sally in accounting said it was cash or go without. Guess he found the cash.”
    “Thanks much, Tim. I’ll make a note for the file. You have a great day now,” I said and hung up.
    Interesting. But what was more significant? The fact that Leo couldn’t cover his checks or that he was suddenly flush the day he died? What was special about the day he died? 
    I rifled through one of my desk drawers until I found the folder for the May Bash. Since it was a formal dinner, I had created a seating chart for the guests. I skimmed the names of Leo’s tablemates trying to find someone to question. The key to a discreet inquiry lies in the whole discreet part. I couldn’t grill every guest from the party, that was a luxury for the police. I had to be more selective.
    Leo wasn’t the only board member at his table, Whitney Tattersall was, too. Another interesting tidbit. She didn’t mention it at the board meeting. At least while I was there. I added her to my call list just as my phone rang.
    “Elliott Lisbon,” I said.
    “Elli! My dear, how wonderful to hear your voice,” Mr. Ballantyne shouted into my ear.
    “Mr. Ballantyne, how are you? How is India, sir?”
    “Fantastic, Elli. We’ve met a dashing young couple. Australians! We’re bringing them home for the Gatsby next week.” The line crackled with light static. “Are you there, Elli? Can you hear me?”
    “Yes, I’m here. We’re preparing for the party now. Tod mailed the invitations three weeks ago. He told me all the grantees have RSVP’d.”
    “Speaking of, my dear girl. I’ve moved one up the list: Mumbai Humanitarian. I don’t want Mumbai to