“I meant being ripped off by her fake friend, the concussed lawyer.” Jini tilted her head left then right, equivocating. “Maybe if I knew her better, I might think she deserved the knife too. I don’t think she was the kind of woman that grows on you.”
“Do you regret coming here?”
“Absolutely. Joe’s okay, but I wasn’t desperate to meet all of his family. I knew some of them would be trouble. But Marcus wanted to come. I agreed for his sake.” Jini looked around the room and then up to the ceiling, sighing the whole time. “I should have put my foot down and told him, ‘No. We can see your dad, but we don’t need to stay with his ex-wife!’”
“I think a lot of people are feeling that way now,” I said. “No one knew what was going to happen.”
One side of Jini’s mouth went up in a half-smile. “I bet one person did.”
She was almost certainly right.
“Did you see anyone in the hallway when you exited your room?”
“I saw you and Maeve, and then everyone was there all at once it seemed. It was dark. We were using the lanterns. It was hard to see.”
“Did you see anyone walking away from Beryl’s room?”
“No, I don’t think so. Everyone was going toward it. That’s where the noise came from.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell us? Anything you might have heard or seen around the house that might be useful?”
“I don’t think so.” She paused, pulling her lips into a tight smile. “Nope. Can’t think of anything except the obvious.”
“The obvious?”
“You know, that Roman and Maeve are the only ones that have spent any serious time here. If it were me, it’s them I’d be looking at. But that’s your field, not mine.”
“Has Roman said anything that you found to be suspicious?”
“Only what everyone’s thinking.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard him saying to Yumi that Beryl got what she deserved. Not like he was bragging or anything like that, but like he was trying to comfort her?” She leaned forward, to make sure I understood that she wasn’t accusing Roman of anything more than talk. “She was upset about what happened. And he was trying to make it not seem so bad. And he was right. Someone probably should have offed her decades ago.”
“Thanks for letting us know. If you think of anything else, or if you hear anything else today or tomorrow, please let us know.”
“Will do. Can I go?” She stood, and we gave her a nod.
When Jini was gone, Ian and I took another pause to compare notes.
“She’s a tough lady,” Ian said. “And a former dancer.”
“Maeve’s description was very vague. I don’t think we should rely on it.”
“I’m just saying. Jini fits the bill.”
“So does Yumi.”
“Yeah, but she’s nice.”
“And Jini isn’t?”
“She’s edgy. Hard. Tough. She could do it.”
“But she didn’t have any motive,” I countered.
“Revenge for insulting her, and trying to break up her relationship with Marcus. It would be enough to make anyone angry.”
“Angry, yes. But murderous?”
“We’ll soon find out,” Ian said with unquenchable optimism.
“Amber’s up next?”
“That’s our only suspect left.” Ian stifled a yawn. “Let’s give it a few minutes. I want to take a look at that fire.”
More like he wanted to play with the fire.
I leaned back in my chair. There was no rush. We still had plenty of time to interview Amber before lunch.
While Ian played with the fire, I sat in meditative contemplation. By which I mean I dozed off for a moment.
I was awoken by Maeve, who entered bearing two plates with sandwiches on them.
“Will this be enough for you?” She asked.
Ian and I exchanged guilty looks.
“It sure will,” I told her. “We’re not big eaters.”
At least not when we’ve just finished a round of grilled cheese.
“I’ll bring in some more coffee.”
“Thank you, Maeve.”
Chapter Twelve
“Are you done now?” I asked Ian, almost half an hour later. Once again he was crouched in front of the fireplace, a long, thin, burning stick in his hand.
“Just getting it right. I’ve put some more logs on. It should keep going all afternoon now.”
“Great. Why don’t you go and fetch your cousin?”
“She’s your cousin too now, remember?”
It was weird, discovering these new familial relationships. To think I was related to both Amber and Ian. And Angel, and Uncle Joe, and Marcus. At least I wasn’t related to Beryl.
Ian returned with his—our—cousin shortly.
“Where’s Angel?” I asked.
“She’s playing with Uncle Joe and Yumi.”
“Sit down,” I said with a smile. “Ian? I think the fire’s okay now.”
He was back at it, poking it again. He stood up and brushed his hands off on each other, then came back to join me.
“Amber, did you kill Beryl?” he asked as soon as we sat down.
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Afraid not.”
Ian showed her his phone. “Recognize this?”
Amber shook her head again. “I never saw it until last night. Or this morning, whatever you want to call it.”
Ian sat back in his seat and looked at me, his job apparently done. “Tiffany?”
“Have you heard or seen anything suspicious that we might not know about?”
“Not really. Yumi and Roman have been having whispered conversations, but then young couples do that, don’t they?”
“You didn’t hear what they were talking about.”
“No. But, there is something else. I don’t know if it’s suspicious. But I think it’s going to make you angry.” Amber’s lips were tightly pressed together while she waited for our response.
“What happened?”
“While you were in here, the others were in the drawing room. They were all talking with each other, and they made a decision.”
“Are they taking us off the case?” I asked, not without some small measure of hope.
“No, not that. It’s about Beryl.”
“What about her?”
“They said they couldn’t sleep upstairs tonight, knowing there was a dead body up there with them.”
“They all want to sleep in the drawing room?”
“Umm, no. They wrapped her up in that bedsheet you put on top of her. Then they put her in the woodshed.”
“What?”
“They moved Beryl’s body. She’s not in her room anymore.”
“But it was a crime scene!”
“That’s what I told them! I hoped Jini might listen. She’s a lawyer too. But she’s scared of ghosts or something. She said that since you had already examined and photographed the crime scene, there wouldn’t be any harm in moving the body.”
“Whose idea was this?”
“I think it just kind of… emerged? Roman said it made him feel ill, having the body there. Yumi said it was unlucky. Jini said it was unhygienic to have a body so close while we slept. Then Roman said it wasn’t fair on the girls, to have a dead woman up there. Then Marcus said maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to move it—I think he said that because Jini was staring at him.”
“And so Beryl’s gone? She’s in the woodshed? Where is the woodshed?”
“Just around the back of the house. There’s a door from the kitchen. It’s only a few yards away. And it’s very cold in there. Maybe the body will be better preserved?”
There was that. Some small benefit to the ruination of the crime scene.
“Did they touch the knife?”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t been to look at her since they moved her, but they didn’t plan to touch it. Jini said they
shouldn’t touch the knife. It was evidence. I think they just wrapped her as quick as they could and carried her out. None of them wanted to look at her.”
“The cops are going to be annoyed—if they ever get here.”
“Sorry I didn’t stop them.”
“It’s not your fault, Amber. Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.” I squeezed my hands together while I thought. “Any news on communications? Has someone been checking the phone line and the cell phone signals?”
“Yeah. Nothing. We’re still cut off.”
I turned around to look out the window. The snow was still falling at a steady clip, with occasional gusts sending flurries of the beautiful but potentially deadly flakes buffeting and dancing. It was impossible to see more than about ten yards outside.
“Thanks, Amber. Ian? I guess we’ll take a break now.”
All three of us went to the door. When we opened it, I was surprised to see Angel staring up at us.
“Look!” she yelled in excitement.
We looked.
She held up her hand, in which she held a pair of chopsticks.
She opened her other hand to reveal a single dried bean. Delicately, she hovered the chopsticks over her open palm, lowered them, and with surprising dexterity pincered the legume.
“I did it! Chopsticks!”
“You clever girl!” Amber said. “You’re better than me!”
The pride on Angel’s face made my heart swell. She dropped the bean back into her hand and held out her arms for Amber to pick her up, which she did, squeezing her tight.
“Who taught you that?”
“Auntie Yumi!”
“She’ll have to teach Tiffany,” Ian said with a grin.
I glared at him. “I do not need teaching. I’m perfectly capable of using chopsticks.”
“You made a mess last time I saw you use them.”
I gave him a quick smack on the arm. “Only because your cat jumped on me.”
“Hey, don’t blame Snowy.”
I did blame Snowy. I wouldn’t have spilled anything if it weren’t for the little furball.
“Right. Lunch, and then I’m going to my room to read and ruminate.”
“Ruminate?” Ian asked.
“It means think. I’m going to go and have a good, long think.”
“I’m going to check my equipment. I might need to go out later.”
“You’re not going out in that, Ian.”
“If it doesn’t stop soon I’m going to have to. Someone’s going to have to hike into Mount Washington.”
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow, when the weather has let up some.”
“Sure, sure,” Ian said.
As he walked away, he was already patting his pockets, checking them for whatever supplies and equipment he had stashed away in them.
I could swear that he lived in a different world than the rest of us humans entirely.
Chapter Thirteen
Before dinner, I knocked on Ian’s door. I was pleased to see he hadn’t yet decided to attempt a rescue mission on our behalf.
“Come on. We’re going to talk to Norman.”
Ian hopped up off his bed. “We are?”
“Hopefully that morphine has worn off by now. Maybe he’s awake.”
We walked down the hall to the room that Maeve had placed him in. I tapped gently on the door, and when there was no reply, pushed it open.
It was dark, with the curtains pulled tightly closed. I turned on the lantern I had brought with me and held it up. The lawyer’s head was wrapped in a thick layer of fresh bandages, and he appeared to be sleeping restfully.
Standing above him, we gave him a cursory examination. His skin had lost some of its sickly pallor, and he now looked like he was simply sleeping.
“Norman? Can you hear me?”
His chest continued to gently rise and fall, but he didn’t respond.
“Norman?” I asked again.
Still nothing.
“What are you doing?” Maeve had entered silently behind us.
“Hi. We thought we might see if he was awake now.”
“He’s sleeping. And quite restfully, too. I’m hoping, hoping, that this means he’s turned a corner.”
“Can we wake him?”
“No. You mustn’t. It’s best for him to stay as still and quiet as possible. Darkness, stillness, and silence are the best treatment we can provide him with for a concussion in this house.” She lowered her head just above his and held her ear over his mouth. She stood up straight again and nodded. “I’ll give him a little more morphine, and he’ll sleep through the night. Then perhaps tomorrow afternoon you’ll be able to talk to him.”
I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow afternoon.
“How about holding off on the morphine? Just letting him sleep naturally?”
Maeve bit her lip. “I’d rather not. I’d rather have him knocked out so he can rest further.”
“We’d really, really like to speak to him first thing in the morning. Could we see how it goes? Forego medicating him any further tonight? If he wakes up in pain, or you think he needs it, you could dose him again. But let’s try letting him fight this concussion naturally tonight?”
Maeve shuffled one foot against the floor while she considered my request. She didn’t answer.
“Maeve? I mean, you’re the expert. I just mean, it looks like he’s sleeping well already. If we could see if he’s lucid by the morning it could be really helpful for us.”
“I guess we can try. But I’m going to get up and check on him in the night. If he gets agitated, and is confused, I’ll have to sedate him again.”
“Thanks, Maeve, we appreciate it. Don’t we, Ian?”
“Oh yes! The sooner we can interrogate him, the better.”
I did a glare-smile at Ian. “We don’t mean interrogate, not like that. We mean have a nice quiet chat, don’t we, Ian?”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s what I meant, a nice, quiet inte—chat.”
We stood watching Norm sleeping for a moment longer before leaving the room.
“Dinner will be ready at six-thirty,” Maeve said by way of farewell, “in the dining room.”
Ian and I watched her go and then reconvened in my room for a hushed conversation.
“She sure seems to want to keep him hopped up on the morphine,” I said to Ian.
“Do you think she’s trying to stop him from speaking to us?”
“It certainly could be interpreted that way. I wish I knew more about concussions.”
“I wish we had the Internet.” Ian’s face took on a mournful expression. I doubt he’d been unplugged this long since he was a toddler.
“Yeah. What do you think? Morphine to stop him moving and getting agitated. It sounds like it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I think so. You know, I had a concussion once.” Ian told me.
“Yeah? What did the doctors do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I was concussed.”
I was tempted to give him another one, but I decided to let him off this time.
“I wonder what’s for dinner?”
“We’ve got far more important things to be thinking about right now, Ian.”
But despite what I told him, I couldn’t help but wonder too.
When there’s nothing else except a dead body to distract you, meals seem to take on a more significant landmark role in the day.
Dinner, dinner, dinner.
* * *
At six-thirty sharp, we were all sitting down at the table, eagerly awaiting whatever Maeve had prepared for us. While her dinners up until that point had been rather lackluster, her breakfast and sandwich-making abilities had proven to be exceptional.
Maybe she’d just had a bad run on the evening meals.
The dining room had taken on a new air of elegance thanks to the blackout. Maeve had set up four large candelabras along the length of the table, each of which held five red candles. The flam
es all waved gently in the natural drafts of the house.
With the simple candlelight, the room felt homey and comfortable. You could almost forget that the corpse of our erstwhile hostess lay just a few yards from the window, in the woodshed.
“Here it comes!” Ian said with considerable excitement.
The familiar clattering and squeaking of Maeve’s food trolley filled our ears as she pushed the old vehicle toward the dining room.
Earlier in the afternoon, Yumi had offered to help Maeve in the kitchen, but she’d been summarily rejected, and then ejected from the kitchen. Maeve was determined to do it all on her own.
As before, Maeve placed a prepared plate in front of each of us.
“This looks lovely!” Yumi said in excitement.
“Wow!” Ian exclaimed.
The rest of us added our own compliments. Maeve had cooked spaghetti with a meat sauce on top, and it looked and smelled divine. A giant step up from what we’d eaten the previous two nights.
“How did you do it without electricity?” Ian asked her when she’d sat down to join us.
“I don’t need electricity. I have a gas range and oven. There’s a wood burning stove as well.”
“But what about the microwave? That’s not wood-fired, is it?”
Maeve arched her eyebrows at him. “Microwave? We don’t have a microwave.”
Ian looked confused. “No microwave?”
“No.”
“How do you do your popcorn?”
Maeve laughed, a genuine lighthearted tinkle. “I don’t cook popcorn much. But when I do, it’s in a pot with butter, on the gas range.”
“In a pot?” Ian asked in disbelief. “Can you do that?” He sounded skeptical now.
“Believe it or not, Ian,” Uncle Joe said to him, “people have been eating popcorn since even before the mighty microwave was invented.”
“Wow,” he said in genuine surprise. “You learn something new every day, even without the Internet.”
Maeve had even grated some parmesan on top of the pasta, and it ended up tasting as good as it looked. The snow must have made us all hungry, because we cleared our plates in less than five minutes.
“Would anyone like some more?” Maeve asked, the pleasure in our obvious enjoyment of her meal clear in her voice.
Reunions and Revelations in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery Page 10