Foiled (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Seven)

by Amy Saunders

  “Oh…” Victoria sounded disappointed, but Belinda didn’t usually have exciting things to talk about first thing in the morning. In fact, Victoria rarely called that early ever. “So…how was the fundraiser last night? I thought you’d be more, you know, excited this morning.”

  “It was a lot of fun. At least the dancing. Oh, and Nana danced with Carmichael.”

  “Did he propose?”

  “Probably.” Belinda took a sip of coffee. “But I didn’t get a chance to find out yet.”

  There was a pause as if Victoria expected more information.

  “Bennett looked fantastic in his vest,” Belinda added, figuring she wasn’t giving enough detail. “He even posed, so I have visual proof he dressed up for the event. Plus, I’m pretty sure someone has evidence he danced, too. I’ll show you next time we’re together.”

  “Definitely.” Victoria didn’t sound thrilled.

  “Anyway, Camilla left in a rush before it was over, so I’m curious what that was all about.” Belinda recalled what Camilla’s colleague had asked before she left–who do you think killed him? It was an odd question, at best. But Belinda hadn’t heard anything on the news or otherwise to suggest something bad had happened that night.

  “And that’s the thing you’re most occupied with right now?”

  Belinda took a moment to respond, unsure what Victoria really wanted her to say. Overall, the fundraiser had been fun but uneventful. “Well, no. I’m mostly occupied with watching Kyle haul boxes upstairs.” He rolled his eyes while carting another armful out of the living room. “I think if I just stay put, he might get it all done today.”

  Victoria let go of a sigh she seemed to be holding in until that moment. Belinda’s mind raced, wondering if she’d forgotten something important. “I guess I’ll let you go, then,” Victoria said. “Willa’s trying to wriggle free anyway.”

  They said their good-byes and Belinda hung up, staring at the phone curiously.

  “What was that all about?” Kyle brushed his hands off, lingering near the kitchen.

  “No idea.” Belinda dropped the phone back in its cradle. “Victoria didn’t sound happy, though.” It wasn’t Victoria’s usual mode, so Belinda hoped everything was okay on her end.

  Kyle rocked back on his heels, just staring at her.

  “I think you have more boxes to take upstairs.” If he thought Belinda would just forget about it, he was wrong.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Belinda smiled, taking up her coffee cup again. “Watch.”

  Chapter 3

  Jonas Parker had somehow, accidentally, drawn the short stick. He wasn’t sure who he’d ticked off recently to deserve this. It was a lovely spring afternoon on Sunday, but instead of hanging out with his girlfriend Ardith all day as planned, he’d been forced to take a detour to the Felton residence in Portside on official business.

  At least it wasn’t entirely his problem. Or so he hoped.

  He stood in front of Camilla Felton, her daughter, Ginny, and Camilla’s colleague, Vincent Sutcliffe. The previous night, Camilla’s father had been found dead in his home, which was in the nearby town of Southwood, so the case fell in their jurisdiction. But the Portside police had been called in to interview the man’s family, who lived in Portside.

  Borders could be troublesome, especially when Jonas was the fortunate detective called up on a Sunday morning to handle it.

  Jonas pulled a chair over to be at level with Camilla and Ginny. Camilla’s father had been found dead at the bottom of a staircase. And, according to Southwood police, there was nothing to say it was anything other than an accident. Jonas hoped that meant this would go quickly.

  “This is just routine,” Jonas said. “We believe your father fell accidentally.”

  Camilla and Vincent traded a glance, Vincent’s chiseled face alarmed. “What are you talking about?” Camilla said, staring at Jonas. “This wasn’t an accident. You’re supposed to ask us questions to find his murderer.”

  Jonas blinked back at her. That was a first. He rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straighter. He wasn’t at all prepared for this. Crying, maybe. But not a confident assertion that the man had been murdered. “Forgive me, but most people would not want to hear that their father was killed. Let alone insist he was murdered.”

  “I don’t want to hear my father was killed.” Camilla’s shoulders squared, her back ramrod straight. “But I know this was not an accident.”

  Jonas paused, taking a moment to size her up. She wasn’t kidding. “As you know, we’re not handling the actual investigation. That’s in the hands of the Southwood police. But from what I’ve been told, there’s nothing to suggest it was murder.”

  “Of course not.” Camilla lifted her chin higher. “Whoever is behind this wants it to look accidental.”

  Jonas held her gaze, then sat back, settling into his seat. “Okay. Tell me why you think that.”

  “I assume you know about our family,” Camilla said.

  “I’m familiar with your company, and the fact that your father retired recently, leaving the reins in your hands.”

  Camilla nodded, taking in a breath. “The transition has gone well, overall. But there are people who aren’t happy. They’d rather someone else be CEO.”

  “So why kill your father? He’s no longer in charge.”

  Vincent’s gaze shifted down to Camilla. “Because my father’s death could do great damage to my reputation,” Camilla said.

  “How?” Jonas folded his hands in his lap, glancing at Ginny, who sat back with arms crossed, staring firmly out the window.

  Camilla licked her lips. “Certain…insinuations have been made about my relationship with Vincent. It’s commonly known my father did not like Vincent and didn’t want him in any type of power position in the company.”

  “Yet here you are, in a time of crisis with the CEO.” Jonas gazed up at Vincent. “I guess his wishes were ignored.”

  “Vincent’s a friend,” Camilla said quickly. “He was with me when I found out what happened to my father.”

  “I see. So, someone may have murdered your father to…”

  “Make us look guilty,” Vincent finished. “Everyone knows Henry despised me. And it may have leaked out that he’d threatened to use his influence over the board to fire me. If that’s the case, even if there’s no proof, it could look like I had something to do with Henry’s death.”

  Ginny’s eyes dropped to the sofa arm, her body shoved as far from her mother as possible. It was odd, in a situation like this, when Jonas would think she’d want some comfort. Then again, maybe Ginny knew exactly what was going on between Camilla and Vincent and didn’t want anything to do with them.

  “Just wait,” Camilla said. “The rumors will have spread by tomorrow. I guarantee it. That’s why we want this settled–quickly.”

  Jonas understood, but he wasn’t sure any of this would convince Southwood to delve any deeper. “I’ll do what I can, but,”–Jonas locked his green eyes onto Camilla–“off the record, if you’re this certain it was murder, you may need to find other ways to prove it. I got the feeling they were already writing it off.”

  Camilla pursed her lips, nodding.

  Jonas finished the interview, gathering the information he was there to get, then took his leave. Now he was intrigued, despite the Sunday afternoon business, and it was kind of a shame he couldn’t do much except pass along the information. Not that he figured it would do any good. They’d probably nod and then write it off as an accident.

  And based on what he’d been told, he understood why. Why look for trouble where there wasn’t any? They all had their plates full with real problems. It was really Camilla’s insistence that the man was murdered that got him. It was such a strange thing to assume.

  And while Camilla Felton and Vincent Sutcliffe seemed to have reasons to want their own names cleared, wouldn’t an accidental death be enough to do that? If the police said Henry Lawson died by pure
accident–he took a wrong step and fell on his own–wouldn’t that be a cut-and-dried way of clearing someone’s name? By declaring it a homicide, well…things would get messy.

  Jonas shook his head, puzzled, but at a loss for an answer. He tossed his keys in the air, absorbing the sunshine that made him squint. It was a beautiful day. Perfect to go for an outdoor jaunt with Ardith. Why not just do your job and get on with it? Jonas thought. Let the Southwood police handle the case. It wasn’t his problem.

  Not at all.

  Chapter 4

  “Poor Carmichael,” Belinda’s mother said, leaning back in her seat. “He’ll never get what he wants.”

  Her grandmother waved it away. “Poor nothing. He knows I’ll say no. I actually think that’s part of the allure. He enjoys it.”

  Belinda’s father winked at her, and Belinda half smiled, her fingers interlocked with Bennett’s. They’d had their fill of chicken salad and fresh bread and all seemed content to relax on the back porch of her parents’ home that afternoon. It was still chilly on the water, even with the sun blazing, but Belinda didn’t mind. It was nice to be outdoors again.

  “I wonder how many more times he’ll ask before giving up.” Kyle’s head was back, his eyes closed.

  “If he, or I, were on our deathbeds, I think he’d still ask one last time.” Belinda’s nana arched her shoulders back, sitting up taller. After a moment, a smile played at the corner of her lips, like she was mulling over that idea. Belinda had never given it much thought, but now she wondered how much her grandmother enjoyed this game, too.

  “Let’s hope it’s not a reality anytime soon,” her father added, the breeze ruffling his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Because you don’t want me to die?” her nana quipped.

  “Because I don’t want you to feel guilty and say yes.”

  Her grandmother puckered her lips. “Carmichael’s not that bad.”

  “As an acquaintance, he’s fine.” Her father splayed his hands out. “But I can’t say I’d want him as a relative.”

  Belinda pictured Carmichael at their table as a part of the family, his wide glasses and Cheshire-cat grin. He might be a little too much in heavy doses.

  “Well, you needn’t worry,” Belinda’s grandmother responded, “I have no intention of making his dreams come true.”

  Belinda smirked, a song blaring in the distance interrupting the serenity. It sounded like it came from inside the house, and Belinda finally realized it was her fault. She squeezed Bennett’s hand and jumped up to check her cell phone. The ring was for generic calls, but it could be her Cake Diva partner, Mia, who was in Europe. Mia had promised to call regularly to check in on things while she did a massive foodie tour. Belinda hoped she’d return with equally massive amounts of ideas.

  Sure enough, Belinda didn’t recognize the number, but she answered anyway. “Hello?”

  “Hello…Ms. Kittridge?” It was a woman’s voice and she sounded a little distracted.

  “This is she.” The voice wasn’t familiar, and Belinda hoped it wasn’t just a telemarketer.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Kittridge. I’m Penelope Brown, Ms. Felton’s assistant. She would like a meeting with you and Bennett Tate…today if at all possible.”

  Belinda glanced over her shoulder to see Bennett, and everyone else outside, laughing about something she’d missed. “This isn’t the best time. May I ask why she wants to see us?”

  “I don’t know the details.” Penelope sounded irritated. “Just that this is an absolute emergency, and that she promises you’ll both be well compensated for your trouble.”

  Well compensated? “I suppose we can spare a few minutes. When should we come?”

  “Now would be fine,” she said, after a pause.

  Belinda sighed. “Now it is, then.”

  After giving her an address, the assistant hung up, rather abruptly, leaving Belinda in a daze. She tapped on a window near Bennett and motioned with a finger for him to come inside. He dug his hands in his pants’ pockets, his face and eyes lit up from whatever they were out there talking about. “What’s going on?” he said, rather cheerfully.

  Belinda narrowed her eyes, suspicious whenever he got too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “What were you guys talking about that’s made you so perky?”

  Bennett paused, his gray eyes swiping over her curiously. “Your grandmother was just telling a story about Carmichael. So…who called?”

  “Oh…well…” She cleared her throat. “We’ve been summoned.” Belinda filled him in on the brief, and vague, conversation with Penelope. “It didn’t sound like we had much of a choice, honestly. But I figured we could go talk to her at least. I doubt it will hurt.” Of course, she’d thought that before.

  Bennett shrugged indifferently. “Sure.” His gaze drifted toward the porch. “But won’t your grandmother mind?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s not as persnickety as Madame Russo.” That is, Belinda’s maternal grandmother. “But I will take the blame, so no one thinks you’re the one being rude.” She tiptoed over and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

  After standing by the table, waiting for an opportunity, she informed them they had to go meet Camilla.

  “Hoity-toity,” her nana said, as Belinda bent down to kiss her cheek. “And why on earth would she drag you away on a Sunday afternoon like this?”

  Belinda shrugged. Her only guess had to do with the mysterious happenings during the fundraiser the previous night. But she didn’t know what it meant. “I just think Camilla’s used to being obeyed–regardless of the day.”

  Her nana harrumphed. “Well, don’t let her keep you long. If need be, I can extract you.” She gave Belinda a wink.

  “We will remember that.”

  After Bennett shook hands with her father, her grandmother took his hand, whispering something into his ear once he inclined his head to the side. Then she patted his hand, Bennett nodding. Belinda watched curiously near the threshold.

  “What was that secret little convo about?” Belinda asked him as they walked to his truck in the crushed-shell driveway.

  “If it’s a secret then I’m not going to tell you, am I?”

  Belinda wrinkled up her nose, climbing up into the passenger’s seat. “You’re very vexing sometimes, you know that?”

  Bennett slid a pair of aviators over his eyes, smiling. “You just can’t stand being left out, that’s all.”

  She pulled a face but couldn’t think of a proper retort. Maybe because it was true.

  Chapter 5

  Camilla Felton sat behind a dark-stained oak desk in front of a picture window sporting a view of a square backyard with a fence cutting off the neighbors. The house was right on a corner of Ocean Avenue, the Atlantic Ocean right across the street. And though the house was wrapped in windows on every side, Belinda could still only see the road from the first floor.

  She’d been to Camilla’s house a few times for cocktail parties and the like, but this felt different. Standing in front of Camilla at her desk, waiting for an invitation to sit, Belinda wondered if they were supposed to bow or something. And her jeans and blousy top felt highly inappropriate all of the sudden.

  Camilla finally waved at two chairs in front of her. Once Belinda and Bennett sat down, Vincent Sutcliffe sank into the cognac leather couch to the side. He’d only nodded when they came in, and Belinda was a tad curious what he was doing there.

  “You wouldn’t have heard yet,” Camilla said, “but my father died suddenly last night.”

  Belinda gasped, her brown eyes widening. “I’m so sorry!” She started to ask, or maybe say, something else, but Camilla held up a hand to stop her.

  “Thank you,” Camilla said, smiling sadly, “but I’m alright. However, we do need your help.” Her eyes shifted to Vincent, lounging on the sofa.

  Belinda swallowed, trying to process what was going on, and still somewhat in shock over the news. More so than Camilla. And Belinda only knew Henry Lawson in passing. She t
ried to formulate a coherent sentence, or word even, but Bennett picked up the reins, his usual collected self.

  “Why do you need our help?” Bennett said, flicking his hand in Belinda’s direction.

  Camilla took in a breath. “This will sound strange, but we are convinced my father was murdered.”

  Belinda looked to Bennett, but his eyes were set on Camilla, unfazed.

  “Murdered?” Belinda sat forward in her chair, taking in a deep breath herself. “Then the police should be here, not us.”

  “They were.” Camilla’s face was grim. “And they have ruled it an accident.”

  Belinda looked at Bennett again, wanting some confirmation that she wasn’t the only confused person there, but he still ignored her.

  “My father was found dead at the bottom of a staircase,” Camilla continued. “It was Saturday night–during the fundraiser.” She raised her hand to them, indicating they knew that. “You probably know a woman came in to talk to us. Well, she told us the news.”

  “And you don’t believe he ended up there by accident?” Bennett said.

  Camilla shook her head. “Most of his household staff were at a carnival nearby when it happened.”

  “Most?” Belinda said.

  “Only his housekeeper stayed behind. She was the one who found him.”

  Belinda straightened up. “Then we have to ask: why do you think it was murder?”

  Vincent took up the story from his seat on the couch. “Because someone wants the blame to fall to me.”

  “Us,” Camilla corrected, but Vincent twisted his mouth to the side in disapproval.

  “Me,” he said more emphatically, then looked straight at Belinda and Bennett. “Henry and I didn’t get along very well. People might not like my association with Camilla, but ultimately, they will blame me for everything, not her.”

  “Regardless,” Camilla said, “we are both going to pay for this somehow. The sooner my father’s murderer is caught, the better.”

  Belinda hesitated. “This is all very…well, it’s not even circumstantial. You may be inviting trouble when you don’t have any.”