Murder at Longbourn: A Mystery

by Tracy Kiely

  “Well, hello, everyone,” purred a woman’s voice somewhere north of Susie’s chest. “I hope we’re not late?”

  Aunt Winnie snapped back into her hostess mode and stepped forward to greet the newcomers. “Welcome, Susie. And hello, Steven. Hello, Eric. I didn’t see you at first.”

  As I said, I don’t think anyone had. But now that I did focus on them, I could see that Steven appeared very agitated. His thin frame was quivering, and his eyes kept darting back and forth between Tom and Susie, as if he were watching for some sign, some hint, that they were indeed lovers. Eric was also in character. His posture was rigid and tense, and he watched Steven with worried eyes.

  As I circulated among the actors with my rapidly diminishing supply of food, I heard Steven say to Eric, “I can’t take this anymore. I think I’m going crazy, man. I keep picturing them together.”

  Eric patted Steven’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be all right, Steven. Just keep it together, buddy. I promise you that everything is going to be okay.” Upon seeing me, Eric turned away.

  I smiled as I roamed the room, listening in on the various conversations, happy that for once my penchant for eavesdropping was condoned. I looked around the room at the rest of Aunt Winnie’s guests to see if they were also enjoying the show.

  Jackie’s clear laugh floated out. She looked like the proverbial kid in the candy store, smiling broadly as she eagerly watched and listened to the actors play their various parts, occasionally engaging one or two of them in conversation. Daniel also interacted with the actors. Well, actually with just one actor. He trailed Susie around the room like a besotted puppy. If nothing else, his behavior seemed to put to rest the rumor that he and Lauren were having an affair. He hadn’t spent more than five minutes with her since they arrived. Of course, he hadn’t spent more than five minutes with me, either, and I hadn’t imagined our near kiss in the garden earlier.

  As I surveyed the room, I found Peter staring at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he looked away. As he’d never looked at me before except to criticize, I immediately glanced down at my dress, half expecting to see various spills and stains. It was clean. I ran my tongue over my teeth, wondering if something large and green was stuck there. Again, nothing. I was reminding myself that Peter could find fault with me even on my best days when an elderly man entered the room. The newcomer was tall with a mass of white hair, a short trim beard, and glasses so thick they magnified his brown eyes to almost three times their actual size. He hesitated a moment, as if uncertain where he should go, before Aunt Winnie spotted him. “Randy!” she cried excitedly. She rushed over and enveloped him in a huge hug.

  Randy? I looked over at Peter for an explanation, but as he seemed to be looking to me for one, I took the newcomer to be Aunt Winnie’s surprise guest. Knowing her, he could be anyone from a voodoo doctor hired to perform a good-luck dance for the New Year, to her fiancé. Peter and I simultaneously crossed the room to where they stood.

  Aunt Winnie glowed as she introduced us to Randy Whittaker. Apparently he was not a voodoo doctor. However, by the way Aunt Winnie was gazing at him, he might one day be her husband.

  “Randy owns the best bookstore in town,” she said. “That’s where I met him.”

  “Well, to be perfectly accurate,” said Randy, “we met in my back office after you burst in demanding to know why I was anti-Austen.”

  Aunt Winnie turned to me, her face alight with indignation. “Not one of her books was on the shelves. Can you believe it? Not one. Shocking oversight.”

  “And as I told you,” he said, with a fond smile, “we had sold out and the shipment was on its way from the warehouse.”

  Aunt Winnie tossed her head. “I still say it’s a shocking oversight. It’s a good thing you’ve got charm on your side, Randy.”

  Randy laughed and adjusted his glasses. “I think I could say the same of you, Winifred. Now enough of Austen. Have I missed anything?” He surveyed the room.

  “You can never have enough of Austen,” Aunt Winnie retorted. “But no, you haven’t missed much. As you can see, Gerald is here. Let’s not have any fireworks, shall we?”

  “Winifred, what do you take me for?” Randy replied indignantly.

  “For a man who finds Gerald Ramsey as obnoxious as I do,” she replied briskly. Turning to Peter and me, she said by way of explanation, “In addition to wanting to buy the inn, Gerald is in the midst of putting together a real estate deal for one of those large bookstore chains. You know, the kind that also sells coffee and T-shirts. Randy was looking into selling his business, but with news of this deal, no one wants to buy it anymore.” Turning back to Randy, she linked her arm through his and said, “Now, I already filled you in on the performance; all you have to do is watch and listen. I’ll introduce you to the actors.” They walked away, leaving Peter and me alone. We stared blankly at each other.

  “Well,” I said.

  “Well,” he echoed.

  Unless we were sniping at each other, it seemed we had nothing to say. “I guess I’d better circulate with these,” I said finally, with a nod to my tray.

  “And I should get back to the bar.” He turned and walked hastily away.

  I moved toward where Lauren and Gerald were standing. Although they stood close, they neither spoke nor even looked at each other. Gerald helped himself to several crab cakes, cheese puffs, and scallop-and-bacon spears from my tray, stacking them up in an absurd little pyramid on his cocktail napkin. Lauren eyed everything hungrily but politely refused.

  Linnet was standing by herself, sipping champagne and watching the show unfold with a distant smile. I walked over to her. “Something to eat?”

  She hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. I’m trying to lose weight.”

  “Oh, but you can’t diet on New Year’s Eve. That’s what tomorrow is for—lots of healthy resolutions and fresh beginnings. Besides, Aunt Winnie is a wonderful cook.”

  Linnet considered the tray again. “Well, I guess you’re right. I suppose it is silly to start a dieting regimen today.” She chose a crab cake and delicately popped it between her crimson-stained lips.

  “You know,” she continued, “when I was younger, I never had to worry about my weight. I was always the same size. But over the last couple of years, it’s gotten harder and harder to keep the extra pounds off. I guess that’s part of getting old.” She reached for a cheese puff.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I responded. “I think it’s hard for everyone, at any age.”

  She ate another cheese puff and nodded toward where Jackie stood talking to Lauren and Gerald. “Jackie doesn’t seem to have any trouble,” she said, with a trace of envy in her voice. “She’s the same size as she was when we were in school.” I remembered Aunt Winnie’s observation that Jackie kept in shape by exercising; Linnet, however, attributed it to a different reason. With a faint sniff, she said, “Of course, given what her circumstances have been, I suppose it’s not that surprising. After all, it’s hard to overindulge when you’re barely able to make ends meet.”

  The spitefulness of the remark took me by surprise and I struggled to keep my face neutral. Dear God. Why didn’t she just stand on the nearest chair and shout out to the room, “If it weren’t for me, Jackie Tanner would be living in a van down by the river”? Linnet kept talking. “Although it’s hard to believe now, we used to look so much alike that people often mistook us for sisters.”

  “Where did you two go to school?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Radcliffe. Jackie and I took drama together. We had this silly plan that after graduation we were going to move to Hollywood, where, of course, we’d instantly be discovered.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I guess Marty, my late husband, happened. He was very good-looking back then and, of course, his family was as rich as Croesus. It made for a hard combination to resist. He was quite the ladies’ man.” She shook her head at the memory. “Actually, I think Jack
ie even dated him a few times, but once he and I met, well, that was that. It was a whirlwind romance. He proposed only three weeks after our first date. I remember Jackie was so upset, because that ruined our plans.” She paused to eat another crab cake. “I doubt I would have gotten very far, anyway. My only talent was an ability to cry on command. Jackie, on the other hand, has always had a real talent for mimicry—more of a gift, really, than a talent. She was amazing.” Linnet’s voice held a tinge of regret; she immediately shook it away. “But, as I said, it was a silly idea. Neither of us had what you’d call the stuff of legends.”

  “What did Jackie end up doing?” I shifted the tray.

  “Oh, she ended up taking a teaching job somewhere in Ohio. And Marty and I moved to Connecticut. Greenwich,” she added after a brief pause. She was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in her memories. “It’s funny how things turn out,” she said slowly, more to herself than to me. “I thought I would have such a perfect life with Marty. He came from a wonderful family. He was rich and handsome. But he was also the biggest lush I ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  “Oh,” I said, taken aback at this blunt admission. “I’m sorry. That must have been very hard.”

  “It was. But I wasn’t the first woman to marry an alcoholic. At least we had ample money so I never had to worry about losing the house. And, of course, I had my charity work to keep me busy. Thankfully, we weren’t able to have children. At the time, it was quite distressing, but in hindsight I think it was a blessing.”

  I was thankful that Linnet’s constant nibbling had emptied my tray, because it gave me a reason to excuse myself from the conversation. I had no idea what to say to her, not that it mattered. She struck me as the sort of person who talked a great deal but seldom required a response. She’d had a difficult marriage, but she didn’t invite much sympathy. Maybe it was her lack of loyalty to people. By her own admission, she had tossed Jackie aside when they were younger, and from what she had told me about her husband, it sounded like once she realized he had a problem, she had pushed him aside, too. As I made my way across the room, I caught Peter staring at me again and I had a sudden immature urge to stick my tongue out at him. I restrained myself and continued to the kitchen.

  On my way I saw Lauren. She stood with her back to me, talking on her cell phone. As I neared, I heard her say, “Okay, I’d better go. Happy New Year. I love you, baby.”

  With a soft click, she shut the phone and dropped it into her little purse. Seeing me, she pasted a bright smile on her face. “The party is going wonderfully, don’t you think?”

  “So far, so good,” I agreed.

  With a nod at my empty tray, she said, “Well, don’t let me keep you.” She hurried back to where Gerald stood. Of the many possibilities Lauren’s conversation did suggest, I was secretly pleased that an affair with Daniel was not one of them. I continued on to the kitchen, my mood vastly improved.

  After refilling the tray, I headed back to the dining room. As I passed the rear door that led to the garden, it opened and Joan and Polly walked in from the cold. My face must have shown my surprise because Joan quickly said, “Oh, hello, Elizabeth! My, it is really coming down out there! It’s like a winter wonderland. Polly and I just couldn’t resist—there’s something about snow that brings out the kid in everyone, I guess.”

  As directed, I looked out the back window. The snow was indeed coming down heavily, transforming the backyard into a sea of white. I must be getting old, I thought. For unlike Joan and Polly, I had absolutely no desire to go stand in it. I was quite happy to enjoy the view from the comfort of the heated indoors.

  Joan hurried back to Henry while Polly stayed with me, although she said nothing. Aunt Winnie laughed loudly at something and Polly said, “Your aunt seems like a lot of fun.”

  I looked over to where Aunt Winnie stood talking to Gerald and Lauren. “She is,” I agreed with a smile.

  Polly continued, “Sorry about my father’s behavior earlier. He can be … overbearing at times.”

  That was one way of describing the man. I could think of several other terms, which while more fitting wouldn’t be appropriate to share with his daughter. I snuck a glance at Polly. She was still staring at her father, her face an unreadable mask. Quite suddenly, an expression of pure hatred crossed her face. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the controlled mask was firmly back in place. It happened so fast that I wondered if I had imagined that look.

  I felt for her. It must be hard to go through life with a father as obnoxious as Gerald Ramsey. I wondered if she often found herself apologizing for his rude behavior.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” I said finally. “Aunt Winnie didn’t seem upset.”

  “I’m glad. She seems like a nice lady. I hope she never sells this place.”

  That surprised me. “Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about her selling anytime soon. She loves it too much.”

  “I hope so, but you don’t know my father. When he wants something, he usually gets it.” In a low voice, she added, “Just tell your aunt to be careful.”

  Before I could ask what she meant by that, Daniel walked up. “Well, here you are! Why are you two hiding in the corner?”

  Polly smiled at him. From across the room, Gerald barked out, “Polly! Come here!”

  Her smile instantly died and her checks grew red, but whether from shame or anger I couldn’t tell. “Excuse me,” she said quietly, and slowly walked to where Gerald stood.

  Daniel watched her go, his lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. “That poor kid,” he said finally. “He’s a real prat.” He absentmindedly ate a cheese puff and surveyed the room. In one corner Linnet stood talking to Jackie. Daniel observed them quietly. With a nod to Linnet, he then said, “So, I take it that’s the fine lady who single-handedly saved Ms. Tanner from a life of abject poverty?”

  I glanced at him in some surprise, and he shrugged. “She made it pretty clear.”

  I shook my head, all the more sorry for Jackie. “Yes, that’s Linnet. I guess they’re old school friends. Apparently, when they were younger they were going to go off to Hollywood together.”

  Daniel ate another cheese puff. “Really?” He eyed them critically and then pronounced, “Well, they look like they once had the gams for it.”

  “What?” I sputtered with a laugh.

  “Their legs. Being a connoisseur, I’ve found that there are really only two kinds of women’s legs. Their ankles either curve in nicely from the calves or they don’t. With the latter you get that tree-trunk appearance.”

  I knew the look he meant—that was a perfect description of my legs. A guy I once dated had cruelly referred to them as “cankles.” I hoped he was dead now.

  I shifted my weight uncomfortably and prayed he wouldn’t look down. He did turn to me but thankfully he didn’t look at my legs. Leaning in closer, he stared into my eyes and my heart beat a little faster. “You look quite lovely tonight, Elizabeth,” he said.

  Before I could respond, Susie walked by, and in the time it takes to say “fickle,” his attention had transferred from me to her. “Save me a dance?” he said, before popping another cheese puff in his mouth and trailing after Susie. I had a sudden urge to hurl the heavy tray at his beautiful English head.

  Making my rounds once again, I saw Tom raise his eyebrows at Susie. She, in turn, checked to see that Steven was looking the other way before nodding her head in affirmation. Glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed this exchange, I saw Karen, her face contorted with rage, glaring at Susie. When Karen noticed me watching her, she turned on her heel and marched toward the bar, where she accepted a drink from Peter and quickly downed it.

  The grandfather clock in the front hall chimed. It was a quarter to nine and time to seat everyone for dinner. Aunt Winnie smoothly showed the guests to their assigned seats, while Peter and I went to the kitchen to load the plates.

  “So,” said Peter, as he tossed the baby arugula with the
champagne vinaigrette, “do you have a guess as to who’s going to be murdered?”

  “My money is on Susie,” I replied. “Although, if she gets shot in the chest, she’s in grave danger of deflating.”

  Peter laughed and meowed at me. I studiously ignored him. Aunt Winnie joined us a minute later, and the three of us served the first course of salad with warm pears and walnuts, followed by the beef filets with Gorgonzola sauce.

  Aunt Winnie had seated at least one of the actors at each table. Susie and Steven sat with Joan, Henry, Daniel, and Polly. Tom and Karen sat with Aunt Winnie, Randy, and Peter. I was seated at a table with Lauren and Gerald, Linnet, Jackie, and Eric.

  The purpose of this arrangement, of course, was for the guests to find out more about the murder. Unfortunately, Henry seemed to have missed this and monopolized the conversation at his table with rapturous tales of Mrs. Kristell Dubois’s latest addition to her estate—an enormous outdoor fireplace. I heard Daniel politely ask if Mrs. Dubois was fond of s’mores. Beside him, Joan’s face was awash with embarrassment and her none-too-subtle hints that he drop the matter went unheeded.

  At our table, Eric talked freely and loudly about his friendship with Steven, dropping hints and making innuendos about fitting justice for infidelity in a marriage. Peering out at him from underneath her hat, Jackie peppered Eric with questions. As for Linnet, she occasionally added to the conversation, but it was hard to get an edge in with Jackie. Gerald paid more attention to his food than to us, and Lauren was so quiet she could pass for a mute. I tried several different conversation openers with her, but without much success. Books didn’t interest her. She hadn’t seen any of the movies I had seen. Even my question about politics was answered by Gerald, who flatly told me, “She votes Republican, like me.”