by Vicki Delany
“Congratulations,” Rose said. “Where are you off to now?” She managed to sound as though she was genuinely interested.
“We have four nights in Hyannis,” the woman said. “Then it’s back to work on Monday. I am not looking forward to it, not one little bit.”
“Enjoy the rest of your vacation, love.” Rose headed back to the kitchen.
“Everything all right, Lily?” she asked me.
“Perfectly fine.” We went into the kitchen together. “The last people you talked to. What room are they in?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“No reason.”
She took a seat at the table, where Robbie was waiting. “As Edna doesn’t seem to be taking the time to make my tea, I’ll tell you while you make me a cuppa.” Robbie rubbed against her arm. “Bring a splash of cream for Robbie, please.”
Edna, at the moment elbow-deep in soapsuds, turned her head and widened her eyes at me. I didn’t laugh as I plugged the kettle in and dropped tea bags into a pot. We didn’t bother with a selection of select teas and loose leaves in the B & B.
“Our late-in-life honeymooning couple are in room two-oh-two,” Rose said. “Leaving this morning.”
I put things away in the fridge and the pantry while waiting for the kettle to boil. As soon as it did, I poured hot water into the teapot and put the pot in front of Rose. Then I poured cream into a small saucer for the spoiled cat.
“I’m off. See you tomorrow, Edna. Have a nice day, Rose.” I called to Éclair, and she yawned, stretched every inch of her body, and got to her feet.
My grandmother poured her tea. Robbie dove into his cream without bothering to say thank you.
* * *
I put Éclair in the cottage and then came back to the main house. I entered via the French doors to the dining room. The room was empty; the guests were getting on with their day. I went into the hall and climbed the steps to the second floor. All the doors were closed, and soft murmurs came from behind some of them. I knocked on 202.
“Who is it?” a woman called.
“Lily. Rose’s granddaughter.”
The door opened, and the woman’s head popped out. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“I’d like a minute of your time, if you don’t mind?”
She opened the door and waved me in. An empty suitcase lay open on the unmade bed, clothes and toiletry bags piled beside it. Pillows were tossed on the floor, and a damp towel was draped over a chair. A twenty-dollar bill, which I hoped was the tip for the housekeeping staff, lay on the night table.
This room was at the back of the house, with a beautiful view over the bay. The drapes were open, and in the distance white sails drifted across the calm waters and powerful speedboats raced past. A whale-watching boat, crammed with eager tourists, headed for the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
“Brian’s gone for a walk while I get the packing done. We’ve enjoyed our stay here very much, and I’ll put a review up on some web pages.”
“Thanks. We’d appreciate that, but that’s not why I’m here.” I took a deep breath. I wasn’t accustomed to asking people about their personal lives, and I had no idea how to go about it. Might as well just get it over with. “Tell me about Jack Ford.”
Her eyes widened, and then shutters slammed over them. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Sorry.” She almost bit off the words.
“The man who died at the bottom of the bluffs on Saturday morning. You were there at the scene. I saw you.”
“I came outside when I heard the commotion, as did a lot of people. Terrible tragedy. I don’t like to be rude, but we’re running a bit late.”
“I heard you say something that made me think you knew him. That’s all.”
She studied my face. “You’re mistaken.”
“You said—”
“I told you I have no idea who you’re talking about. I’ll admit I came out to see what was going on, but I went back inside immediately. It was none of our business, and unlike some people, I’m not so rude as to intrude on people’s personal privacy.” She swept the money off the night table and thrust it into her pocket. “I’m afraid I won’t be recommending this place, after all. Not if the staff are this nosy.” She crossed the room in a few angry steps and stood by the open door.
“I’m not being nosy.” I stepped into the hallway. “I apologize for having to ask you, but a man died on our property, and the police are asking questions about my grandmother, and—”
“All the more reason not to come here again next year, if you and your grandmother have police records.”
“We don’t—”
The door slammed in my face.
This detecting stuff wasn’t so difficult, after all. She hadn’t told me anything, but I had learned something. It was possible I’d misunderstood what she meant by “Glad to hear it.” She might have been talking about something completely different, and I’d thought she’d been reacting to Jack Ford’s name.
An easy mistake to make. One at which she’d have had no reason to get so angry with me.
The strength of her anger told me I was on the right track. Now that I was thinking about it, I remembered more of what happened that morning. She hadn’t taken a quick, curious look and then returned to her own business. She’d pushed through the crowd of onlookers, almost eagerly, and peered over the railing. The look I’d seen on her face had been one of pure triumph.
As soon as they checked out, I’d have to sneak into the room and leave a twenty-dollar bill. It wouldn’t be fair to do the housekeeper out of her tip because I’d inadvertently offended a guest.
I’d have to tell Amy Redmond what I’d learned. The police would then come to the B & B and interview our guest. She’d know I’d ratted on her and be absolutely furious. She’d probably hit the Internet and spread bad reviews about Victoria-on-Sea far and wide.
I sighed. Nothing I could do about that. I didn’t even know the woman’s name.
I found Rose sitting in her favorite damask-covered wingback chair in the drawing room. A tray with her teapot, cup and saucer, and a plate with the remains of a slice of toast was on the side table. Robbie stood on the wide ledge of the big bay window, staring wistfully outside. The bird feeders had been refilled this morning, and chickadees and finches fluttered about or sat on perches, enjoying their breakfast.
Rose came here every morning between nine thirty and eleven, waiting to help guests check out. She’d be back between three and five for check-in. Outside of those times, the phone on the reception desk rang through to her cell phone.
“What’s the name of the couple in two-oh-two?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now I need their name.”
“She’s Susan Walsh. Whether he’s Mr. Walsh or not, I don’t know. She made the reservation. They are on their honeymoon.” My grandmother smiled at me. “Which goes to show, love, that it’s never too late.”
I ignored that crack, shut the drawing-room door, pulled out my phone, and punched buttons. My grandmother gave me a questioning look. Robbie licked butter off her toast.
“Hi, Detective,” I said. “It’s Lily Roberts here. I’ve learned something about the Ford case you might be interested in.”
“What?” Redmond said. Obviously, not a woman who engaged in small talk.
“We have a guest by the name of Susan Walsh. She was here on Saturday morning at the top of the cliff after I found the body. I’m positive I heard her say, ‘Glad to hear it,’ when Ford’s name was mentioned.”
“You think that means something?”
“I do. I spoke to her just now, and she got very aggressive. She claimed not to know what I was talking about. Although she would, wouldn’t she, if she was responsible?”
“People react in strange ways, Lily,” she said. “Don’t leap to make assumptions. We interviewed all your guests at the time, but no one stood out as being of interest.”
�
�I think she met with Jack on Friday, although I can’t be sure.”
“Okay. It sounds as though we need to speak to her again, but it will have to be Detective Williams, not me.”
“They’re about to leave,” I said. “To check out.” No doubt Susan Walsh would be in a real rush. A rush to get away from me. I hadn’t handled the situation at all well. “She’s packing now.”
“In that case,” Redmond said, “I’ll come. Detective Williams is in court this morning. I can’t ask you to stop them, Lily, so don’t try to. I trust you have her contact information?”
“Rose will have it. Everyone has to show her a credit card when they check in.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Within the half hour.”
I hung up and turned back to my grandmother.
“That was an interesting conversation,” she said.
“It’s almost ten o’clock. Checkout time is eleven. Let’s hope the police get here in time, but if not, can you try to delay the Walshes?”
“Of course. I’ll wrestle Mr. Walsh, if that’s his name, to the ground and tie him to the desk with the drapery rope, and while Robbie stands guard over him, I’ll put Mrs. Walsh in a choke hold and secure her hands with my scarf while I reach for my revolver. Don’t be ridiculous, Lily! I’m not holding anyone captive in my house.”
I was prevented from replying that I’d been talking about engaging Susan in casual conversation by the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs, followed by the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a suitcase on wheels. I peeked out. Fortunately, it was not the Walshes, but a family of four.
Rose left her tea and went into the hallway to take a seat behind the reception desk, and handed the woman the bill. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.”
“We did,” the mother said as she ran her eyes over the bill and signed it. The father carried on out the door, dragging the cases behind him.
“Were you here when that guy died?” their son asked me.
“No,” I said.
“Lame. We got here too late for the main action, but I saw the CSI guys poking around the stairs. Cool. They wouldn’t let me near, though.”
“You are such a ghoul.” His sister tossed her long glossy hair and spoke to me. “Never mind him. He’s always sooo juvenile.”
As if to prove her point, he stuck his tongue out at her. She, full of teenage sophistication, rolled her eyes and emitted a world-weary sigh.
The family left, passing Susan Walsh’s husband Brian, returning from his walk. He nodded politely to Rose and headed for the stairs.
“Have a nice walk?” I asked quickly.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Did you discover any new paths? I don’t get much of a chance to get out myself. Too busy at the tearoom. I’m thinking of doing up a map showing the best walking routes and such. Something we can give to guests when they check in.”
“I took the steps down to the beach and walked along there for a while.”
“Which direction?”
“North, I think. I’m not sure. Maybe south. Is that way south?” He pointed.
“The tide’s coming in, isn’t it? Does the high tide block access much farther along?” I threw a desperate glance at my grandmother. I could use some help here.
“It’s low tide right now. Nice for exploring the tidal pools.” He walked past the reception desk, heading for the stairs.
Rose began to stand. She let out a sharp gasp and fell to one side as her bad leg gave way, and her cane crashed to the floor. Her hand reached out and scrambled for purchase at the edge of the desk. She began to slide.
I yelled and leapt forward, but Brian was ahead of me. He grabbed Rose around the waist and steadied her, and then he lowered her carefully into the chair, as though she were made of fine porcelain.
“Are you okay, Rose?” I said.
“I . . . I’m fine. A dizzy spell came over me, I fear.” She looked at Brian, her eyes wide with gratitude. “Thank you so much, young man.” He was fifty at least. “At my age, a fall can be so very dangerous.”
“Can I get you anything?” he said. “A glass of water?”
“A sip of tea sets everything to rights, I always say.”
Brian threw me a look.
Rose clutched his arm. “My tea’s in the drawing room. Can you help me there, please, love? This chair is very uncomfortable.” She started to stand. What could Brian do but take her arm? She smiled up at him.
I picked her cane off the floor.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Rose, supported by Brian, walked into the drawing room. While Brian hovered, she slowly, ever so slowly, settled into her chair. Robbie watched from the window seat. He yawned and returned to observing the birds.
Once seated, Rose patted her chest. “That did give me a terrible fright. I’m not quite as young as I used to be. My tea’s finished, Lily. Do be a dear girl and get me another cup.” Brian glanced toward the door, and Rose jerked her head at me. I picked up the pot. It was almost full.
“If you’re okay, Mrs. Campbell,” Brian said, “I’ll go upstairs and help Susan with our cases.”
“Please stay until Lily gets back.” Rose’s voice quavered ever so slightly. “I . . . I feel a bit faint.”
“I . . . ,” he said.
“Be right back,” I said. “Did you know Brian and Susan are on their honeymoon? Isn’t that nice?” I ran for the kitchen. Edna had left for the day, leaving the old kitchen spick and span. I didn’t bother making more tea. The clock on the wall told me it was after ten. I called the tearoom, and Cheryl answered.
“It’s me,” I said. “I’m going to be late again, but not by much. What’s the reservation book look like?”
“Slow until one. Then we’re almost full for the rest of the day.”
“Okay. There’s plenty of food to get started. I made the chicken salad for the sandwiches last night and boiled the eggs. I’ll try to get there as soon as I can. Did the strawberries arrive?”
“Yes. And Simon brought us a gorgeous arrangement of flowers. Is everything okay, Lily?”
“As okay as can be,” I said. “If you need anything, call me.”
I carried the teapot back to the drawing room.
“And three grandchildren,” Rose was saying when I entered. “They still live in Iowa. I loved my life in Iowa, but I missed the sea so very much.”
Brian threw me a grateful look and started to stand.
“It’s because I’m English, of course. We English love our sea. My late husband’s family was from Scotland. We always gave our cats the names of Scottish heroes. My previous cat was called Flora MacDonald. With a name like Walsh, your ancestors must be from the UK. Do you know where they originated?”
“No. I don’t. Sorry.” He stood up. “Susan will be wondering where I am.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Rose said. “Would you like a cup of tea? Lily, fetch Brian a cup.”
“No!” he almost shouted. He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, thank you. We need to be on our way.” He walked out of the drawing room as fast as politely possible and took the stairs three at a time.
“Good heavens, but that was exhausting,” Rose said. “The poor man. Do you think we bought ourselves enough time?”
I glanced out the window to see Amy Redmond’s car pull up. “Looks like it. Why don’t you sit at the reception desk in case any of our guests need to speak to you? You can invite the police to interview Susan here in the drawing room. Much more formal than in a bedroom. I’ll sort the linens while that’s happening.”
“Excellent idea.” Rose got to her feet in one smooth movement.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” I said.
She grinned at me. Robbie leapt off the windowsill and followed her out.
* * *
I showed Amy Redmond into the drawing room and then ran upstairs to tell Susan Walsh she had a visitor. Brian looked confused, while Susan threw daggers at me.
“Sorry,” I said, �
��but we have a duty to help the police, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Help the police with what?” Brian said. “You mean about that guy who died on Saturday? We don’t know anything about that. Susan?”
Susan let out a long breath. “If I must. You wait here, honey. I won’t be long.”
“What’s going on?” he said, but she didn’t answer.
I led the way downstairs, and Susan reluctantly followed. Rose sat behind the reception desk, flicking through the bookings for the rest of the month. Susan and I went into the drawing room.
Amy Redmond stood at the window, looking out over the gardens. She turned as we came in. “Thanks, Ms. Roberts. You can leave us now. We shouldn’t be long. I have a couple of questions, Mrs. Walsh. If you don’t mind.” Her tone of voice clearly indicated that she didn’t much care whether Susan minded or not. I shut the door behind me.
No one other than Rose was in the hallway, and no one was moving around upstairs. I gave Rose a wink and slipped into the linen closet. I shoved tablecloths, placemats, and napkins aside, moved the loose shelves, pulled the lever, and ducked into the secret room.
“We won’t be staying at this place again, I can tell you that, Detective,” Susan was saying. “Bunch of interfering busybodies, if you ask me.”
“As it happens,” Redmond said, “I am asking you. What did you mean by ‘Glad to hear it’ when you heard the news that Jack Ford had died?”
There was a long pause. I could imagine Redmond leaning back in her chair, letting the silence drag out.
“I don’t remember saying that,” Susan said at last.
“Did you know Mr. Ford?”
“I know lots of people. Doesn’t mean anything.”
More silence.
“Okay, I knew him,” Susan said. “I’d done some work for him back in Boston. I was surprised to see him here. I didn’t kill him, though.”
“What sort of work?”
“I’m a systems analyst. That means I design computer systems. I had my own consulting business for a while. It didn’t work out. I did a job for him. He cheated me.”
“Cheated you? How?”
“I completed the job as contracted for, and he refused to pay the final invoice. He said the work was substandard. It wasn’t. It was a big job, and he cheated me out of a lot of money.”