Is This Suitcase Taken?

by Wendy Meadows

  “What was the time of death?”

  “I have determined between six and eight o’clock.”

  Brenda was taken aback. “That was during the wedding. Most people were either at the reception or downtown to watch my father and Morgan in the limo parading by at that time. Jonathan Wright told me he closed early that night because of the celebration. He attended the wedding and so wasn’t down at the water to witness anything. I wonder if any boats were passing by and saw anything?”

  She called Mac and asked the same questions. “We’ve had three boaters come forward who were logged by the harbor or the docks as being along that beach area. None of them left from that beach or stopped there, though, and they saw nothing. So far, we can’t be sure who else passed by but have put the word out that we’re looking for witnesses.”

  “We should pay closer attention to our guests tonight. All of them will be here for dinner.”

  “I’ll make sure I get there on time,” Mac said.

  Brenda hesitated. “Mac, I’ve been thinking. This has everyone on edge. I wonder if your presence may make the guests hold back. Why don’t you and William eat downtown? I’ll ask Phyllis to join us. She’s very good at noting quirks in people.”

  Mac laughed. “I get the point. You don’t want interference. William and I could stand to have a good dinner together like the old times.”

  Detective Bryce Jones expected another long night at the police station. Jenny was happy to stay another night in the cottage where her dad and Brenda lived, just so she would not be alone. Brenda told her to have dinner with them. The expectant mother’s appetite seemed endless. Jenny explained the baby must be a hungry one, but Phyllis always laughed and said she was going to serve her an extra heaping full plate that night, insisting her appetite was natural.

  On her way to the table with Jenny, Brenda noticed Daniel standing outside the dining room door. Once inside, Brenda figured out why – Alexandra was in the dining room looking around at the guests. When she didn’t see Daniel, she chose an empty chair at the end of the elongated oval table. Daniel entered after she sat down and chose a chair next to Jenny and far from Alexandra. Brenda saw Alexandra’s disappointment that there were no empty chairs she could move to in order to get closer to him.

  Rick and Carrie sat midway down the table. Neither spoke unless asked a question or someone made a comment to include them. Sandra and Shane carried on a conversation with Daniel and the other guests. No one brought up the subject of Patrick Anderson.

  As guests moved toward the sitting room after dinner for desserts and drinks, Phyllis pulled Brenda aside. They agreed the only odd behavior noted was the subdued couple. Carrie and Rick opted to skip dessert and chose to take a walk downtown. Most shops remained open until nine during tourist season. Conferring, neither Brenda nor Phyllis knew whether to make anything of the couples’ behavior and decided to watch the rest of the guests instead.

  Daniel once again waited for Alexandra to settle in the corner of the room. He sat in one of the paisley armchairs furthest from her and talked briefly with Shane Dickinson. The conversations came to a halt when one guest asked how Patrick Anderson had died. When his name was spoken out loud, silence fell over the room.

  Phyllis’s eyes swept the room. Two seats away, Alexandra cowered back in her chair and glued her gaze on Daniel. Her face was ashen.

  “Are you all right, Alexandra?” Phyllis asked. The woman nodded yes.

  “How terrible to gossip about such things.” Alexandra’s voice was barely audible.

  The guest apologized quickly and changed the subject. The conversation moved on, but Daniel did not. He gave Alexandra a glare and left the room. In the hubbub of conversation and the entrance of one of the servers with a fresh tray of desserts, Alexandra left without anyone noticing.

  A lull finally ensued, and Brenda mentioned shops were still open downtown. Several guests took her up on her suggestion.

  “When you have time, Brenda, we’d love a tour of the whole beautiful bed and breakfast,” Sandra said.

  “There’s time right now. Anyone who wants a tour, follow me.” Brenda managed to snag most of the remaining guests. All were eager to hear details about the restored Queen Anne structure. Brenda told them about the restoration process her uncle undertook.

  “Are there any secret passageways?” Sandra asked.

  “If there are, Randolph didn’t leave me any hints. I suppose if they are secret, he hoped I’d find them one day on my own.” The guests joked about hidden skeletons and secret passages. “There is a back stairway to the tower. Nothing has been done up there except work to preserve it. A new roof and sealing of windows were top priority for Randolph. I’ll take you up there. Those stairs bypass the access to the attic. The tower is the smallest room in the bed and breakfast.” She explained there was nothing to see but the view from the top, so she would proceed only if everyone was interested. Everyone was eager to do so.

  The room was as cramped and odd as Brenda remembered it, and the guests crowded over to the narrow windows to look down at the lawn from the high vantage point and see the sea so far below. Above all, she wished she could get a viewpoint like this one on the current case. It seemed everywhere they turned there was a new dead end.

  When they went back downstairs, Phyllis told Brenda who had left the bed and breakfast to pursue their own interests. Everyone dispersed, and Brenda sat down in the sitting room with Phyllis. They determined Brenda should try to talk casually with Alexandra again. Brenda felt Alexandra might have gained more confidence since no startling developments had come forth. The guest obviously held secrets of her own, and Brenda was adamant to get to the bottom of the reason for her strangely timid nature and, above all, her odd interactions and history with Daniel.

  A few minutes later, Brenda put on her best smile and found Alexandra reading a book at the end of the porch and asked if she enjoyed the night air. Alexandra told her yes. Brenda casually leaned against the railing to gaze at the gardens below.

  “I heard you say you moved around often as a child. Did you ever live in New England?”

  “No, sadly,” Alexandra said, looking out at the beautiful evening too. “It’s so lovely here.”

  “All that moving…a military family, I’m guessing?”

  “How did you know? My father was an army man. We moved like clockwork.” She laughed softly but with little mirth. “I guess it’s in my blood now. I still haven’t put down roots. I have no trouble finding secretarial jobs, but they grow boring and I move on.” She shook her head. “I’m sure that’s boring to you too, Brenda, I’m sorry.” Before Brenda could protest, Alexandra continued awkwardly, “No, it’s fine. I know why I don’t have close friends. They all get tired of me pining after Daniel. Logic tells me to forget him, but my heart tells me I shouldn’t give up hope. I have a good chance. Especially when I heard of his second divorce…”

  Brenda could not afford to lose Alexandra’s confidence now and decided to take these quixotic romantic inclinations at face value. Perhaps she wasn’t a stalker after all. “If I were you, I would just enjoy life. Let him – or anybody, really…friends, boyfriends – see you doing things you really enjoy. Then what you want, or who you want, will just come naturally. Often, it’s a matter of relaxing and letting things flow.”

  “That’s an interesting way to look at life. I’ve never been good at…relaxing.”

  At this point, Brenda leaned in with concern on her face. “I noticed you were tense earlier, too…you found it hard to listen to talk of Patrick’s death, didn’t you? Poor thing…”

  The old Alexandra returned. Her face grew pale and she shrank back. “I don’t like to talk about death.”

  “Even if you know something that could help us?”

  Alexandra looked away, fidgeting with the corner of her book. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Brenda pressed her, and Alexandra’s eyes darted around the porch in the near-darkness and she looked lo
st. “I don’t know for sure and for that reason I don’t want to start more rumors. Goodnight, Mrs. Rivers.” She snapped her book shut, then darted into the house and strode up the winding staircase to her room.

  Brenda didn’t know if she should look at their conversation as a victory or if the road to reaching the truth with Alexandra had just grown bumpier. She asked Phyllis to join her on the veranda. They watched guests returning to the bed and breakfast. Carrie and Rick came from the beach, accompanied by Daniel Swift. They chatted with Brenda and Phyllis briefly and went inside.

  “I’ve noticed Carrie and Rick aren’t around much at all,” Brenda said. Phyllis agreed. “They seem to be at the beach almost all day.” Phyllis guessed they were probably just the outdoors type, and Brenda agreed.

  The next morning, Allie told Brenda she had been thinking about who brought in the larger suitcases. Brenda had sworn her to secrecy when she told her receptionist the full story of Patrick’s death.

  “Daniel carried too much luggage in. One suitcase was huge. Carrie and Rick also came in with enough luggage to stay two weeks rather than the four days they booked.”

  “You are right about the large suitcases you saw, but we’re trying to track down something a lot larger, like a footlocker size.”

  Allie was about to ask more questions, but then Brenda’s cell rang. Brenda walked down the hall to the library room and closed the door behind her for privacy. Mac told her they had results of fingerprints on the footlocker. Many were found, which indicated it had likely been through more than one owner.

  “It could have been in someone’s basement for years. Or bought secondhand, picked up at the dump, something like that,” Mac said, explaining their next avenue of exploration.

  “I don’t think you’ll find the extra fingerprints belong to anyone related to the case we’ve questioned so far,” Brenda said.

  “I agree. We’ll have to eliminate them, though.”

  Brenda thought again about Allie’s mention of the guests who had lugged in large suitcases. One in particular she described could have been a footlocker. On the other hand, Brenda thought, who would use a footlocker as a suitcase? Surely Allie was mistaken. According to her reservationist, Rick Dawson carried the largest luggage, and Allie thought for sure a body could have fit into it. In the end, Brenda felt she was belaboring that point more than necessary. She had later seen the case Patrick was stuffed into and it wasn’t a suitcase. She knew if they could track down the source of the fatal footlocker, they could then trace it to the buyer.

  Most of the guests had booked extended stays in Sweetfern Harbor before arriving. However, the events since their arrival seemed to have changed everyone. Alexandra, predictably, began spending more time in her room. Carrie and Rick barely spoke during mealtimes and were never around. Daniel Swift scowled at Alexandra when their eyes met. Finally, after one meal, he waited for Alexandra outside the dining room. Brenda didn’t miss the way Alexandra’s eyes lit up when Daniel told her he wanted to talk with her. Brenda slipped unseen into the passageway alcove. She closed the door but left a narrow opening, so she could hear the conversation.

  “Daniel…it’s so good to finally talk. All this time I thought you were trying to avoid me. I told myself that was just my imagination.”

  “You’re not imagining things, Alexandra. I am avoiding you, but it seems you are bent on annoying me at every turn. If you continue to act like this, I will not tolerate it. You will not like it if that happens.”

  Brenda heard the gasp echo in the hall. “I promise I won’t say a thing about what happened, Daniel. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Alexandra stammered. “No…nothing at all. I don’t know why I said it like that. I meant…I promise I won’t follow you around any longer.”

  Silence followed her comment. Brenda knew they both stood there and could only imagine the fear and timidity on Alexandra’s face and sheer anger on Daniel’s. She could almost feel the tension between them. She heard Daniel’s heavy footsteps finally retreat. When she exited the alcove and walked down the hallway, the expression on Alexandra’s face sent Brenda’s mind into a whirlwind. She saw a mixture of vulnerability and even madness in the woman. Brenda hesitated and then Alexandra met her eyes. Once again, her eyes held timidity along with fear.

  “Are you all right? I think you should have a hot cup of tea, Alexandra. Try to get some rest. I don’t know what has upset you, but try and relax.”

  Alexandra seemed to cling to the proffered empathy. She nodded her head in agreement. In Brenda’s mind, there was no time to waste, though she knew she must proceed cautiously with the fragile woman. She brought two cups of lemon verbena tea into the sitting room and closed the doors.

  “Tell me why you are so upset, Alexandra.”

  The teacup rattled when her guest placed it on the saucer. She shook her head adamantly. “I promised. If I don’t keep my promise, I don’t know what he may do…”

  Brenda opted to take this drama with a grain of salt. “I doubt anyone would want to harm you, Alexandra. Who did you make this promise to? Did they threaten you? Does someone want to hurt you?”

  Alexandra looked shaken. “Daniel clearly isn’t going to realize he loves me. My whole vacation here has been fruitless.”

  “Sometimes we can love with all our heart and the person we love doesn’t reciprocate. That’s not so unusual, though it can hurt deeply.”

  Alexandra sipped the tea. This time the rattle of the cup onto the saucer settled and she seemed to calm herself. “I thought all these years I could convince him to marry me.” Her eyes hardened with no warning. “He just doesn’t get it. Men can’t see when the right woman is right in front of them.”

  Brenda suddenly wished she hadn’t come in alone with the woman. She had plenty to say to her, but the fiery look in Alexandra’s eyes told Brenda that the scorned woman wasn’t on the same plane as anyone else in the matter.

  “Perhaps I should have brought you some chamomile tea…you look tired, I think. Have you been sleeping well at night?”

  Alexandra returned to her shy demeanor. “I’ve never been one to sleep through the night. I often wake up from nightmares.” She smiled at Brenda. “Don’t worry about me, Brenda. I spend most of my time alone except when I’m at work. It gives me too much time to think.”

  There was no doubt in Brenda’s mind that she had to talk with Mac right away. Before she and Alexandra left the room, Brenda noted her guest’s hands wrapped around the teacup. Her slender fingers made Brenda think of an elegant piano player. Her skin stretched over the delicate knuckles looked fragile, but perhaps there was a hidden strength there.

  Once she had returned to their cottage and settled herself on the loveseat, Brenda called Mac.

  “There is something seriously wrong with Alexandra Cornell,” she said. “I think she either has vital information about Patrick’s murder, or she needs mental health therapy. Or both.” She told Mac about the whole encounter. “For a moment, she really scared me. Her eyes changed from normal, shy maybe, to something more than anger. It was more than manic. It was like insanity. I’m certain she knows more, Mac. But every time I push, she retreats into her shyness and claims to know nothing.”

  “We should bring her down here as soon as possible. I’ll have Officer Thompson join us. He’s a trained psychologist as well as an excellent officer of the law.”

  Brenda agreed with the plan. Then she was left with the dilemma of figuring out how to invite Alexandra down to the police station for a follow-up interrogation without upsetting the woman’s delicate mental balance.

  5

  Witnesses

  Alexandra Cornell stretched out on the luxurious bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she had time to think while alone. She spent a lot of time alone, and a lot of time thinking. She had been alone, it seemed, since her childhood.

  She had been only three or four y
ears old when she realized that watching her parents pack up all the household belongings was something to expect with upsetting regularity. Every year, it seemed, out came the boxes, in drove the moving truck, away went her toys and her clothes and everything familiar, and she was driven to another sad, empty, blank slate of a house, and dumped in a school where she knew no one and no one wished to know her.

  By age six, she dreaded it and began to have nightmares regularly. She complained to her mother and father that she didn’t want to move again. That time, they were going to live in Japan. At the time, all she knew was that she was supposed to be excited to be going all the way across the ocean. She pictured crossing high over the deep blue sea, which reached up to pull her down in her dreams every night.

  Alexandra, you’re such a lucky little girl, her father had told her. No more crying about the move, you’ll upset your baby brother, her mother had scolded, sheltering two-year-old Oliver in a protective embrace.

  Her father had been right on some counts. Alexandra eventually became mesmerized with the art and culture of the Japanese people and their country. Her family lived there for four years and on the military base she befriended other children from various backgrounds and countries, happily forgetting her troubles. Until she noticed the cardboard boxes begin to appear again. She threw a temper tantrum so loud the neighbors heard it through the walls. Her father was at work and her mother had no patience for the ten-year-old’s moods, no matter how fearsome. To this day, Alexandra realized she never understood how hard it had been on her mother.