Murder at Blackwater Manor

by Moure, Ana

  “Let’s have dinner. I have something in mind. I don’t think you’ve done anything like it in the city.”

  “I’ve done plenty in the city,” Sage said indignantly, “I told you. I’m busy. Could you ask someone else?”

  She heard his hearty laugh through the line.

  “You are hilarious, aren’t you? If I wanted to ask someone else, I would have, Sage. So, are you coming or not?”

  “Is it going to take long? I told you. I’m really busy,” she said, but it didn’t sound too convincing any more. Curiosity had managed to make its way through her protests.

  “No, Sage,” he said sarcastically, “It will be a minute. Of course it will take some time, but it will be worth it. Are you in or out?”

  Sage went silent for a moment. She considered what she had to lose. Worse come to worst, she wouldn’t show her face in the Cheshire Cat any more and lose her most vital source of caffeine in Rosecliff. But if she said no in the first place, she wouldn’t feel any more comfortable going in there ever again.

  “Fine. I’m in.”

  The old computer’s processor slowly whirred into life and Sage’s fingers automatically pressed the relevant buttons to navigate to the town’s paper archive. Her mind was still dissecting the odd call she’d just received.

  Sure, she’d thought there might be something between her and Dan, but she suspected it was one-sided. Getting a confirmation that he might like her too only made the situation seem dangerous. Whatever happened, she’d never allow herself to be in the same vulnerable position she was in with Derek. The pain from her ex-fiance’s betrayal still stung deeply.

  The newspaper archive was conveniently organized with the front pages posted as images and a list of the main stories found under each one. It was going to take a while. There seemed to be years upon years worth of publications. She’d just started the daunting task of going through each issue, when she noticed the tiny search bar.

  “Great,” she muttered under her nose, “Let’s see now. B-l-a-c-k-w-a-t-e-r.”

  She hit Enter and a list of article sprang up before her eyes. There seemed to be a whole lot of content about the old family and their estate. Mainly, the news items were related to auction or charity event announcements, the generous donations the Blackwaters had made to the local community, or awards the estate had received for its library and gardens.

  Nothing spicy. Nothing scandalous. Nothing she could work with.

  Sage looked at her watch and realized she didn’t have too much time left. There was a five-minute walk back to Main Street and the Mirror, Mirror salon. Just a few more, she promised herself and kept scrolling. It was addictive and she felt that the minute she gave up, she’d be missing out on something that could shed light on the murder.

  There. Finally something that could be useful.

  Scandal! Large investment scam lures hundreds of people in the area. Prominent local figure James Blackwater believed to be at the bottom of the illicit organization.

  Sage read on hungrily. The old-looking, seemingly mild and pleasant younger Blackwater brother seemed to have quite the sordid past. Not only was he involved in the scam, which left him owing thousands of dollars to local investors, but he also had a history of gambling and illegal trade with hunting trophies.

  Sage remembered that Dan had mentioned what people were speculating after they’d learned of Philip’s death. His brother James had brought great shame to the family and it was strange that he wasn’t the one dead. Sage thought back to the evening they’d had at the Blackwaters and couldn’t recall anything that spoke of conflict between the two brothers. The newspaper story dated back to seven years ago, which was plenty of time for family members to forgive each other.

  That was probably all she had time for right now, so she jotted down some notes on the article in her small notebook that she carried everywhere now and hurried out of the library. She noticed Anabelle Bluebird giving her an odd look after they exchanged goodbyes and when Sage turned back to look at her one last time before she went through the doors, she saw the beautiful librarian quickly heading towards the left wing.

  Sage wondered if Anabelle could possibly trace what she’d been looking at on the computer and regretted she hadn’t covered her steps better. She should have had at least one biology-related thing open on the screen before she left.

  There was no time to worry about that now. It was almost five o’clock.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mirrors and a New Hairstyle

  The Mirror, Mirror beauty salon was located right next to The Cheshire Cat and when Sage approached, she crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t run into Dan. But then, if running into him now seemed impossibly embarrassing, what could she expect later on when it was just the two of them at a dinner table? She winced at the uncomfortable thought, but she’d already agreed. She’d think about it when the time came.

  As soon as she opened the door to the salon, Sage entered a completely different world from the general serenity that characterized most of Rosecliff. Music was blasting inside and there was a cacophony of voices, each fighting to be heard above the others.

  The place was small, but it looked even smaller with all the salon furniture and equipment stuffed inside and the small crowd that somehow managed to coexist inside. There were two large massage chairs with two young girls seated in them, one getting a pedicure and the other one a foot massage. A woman was bent over a narrow table overflowing with nail polish jars, holding the hand of an older lady and meticulously applying a top coat over her bright pink nails.

  Alongside one of the walls were three hairdresser’s stations with mirrors, tables, shelves with brushes, hairdryers and a myriad of shampoos and hair masks, and chairs. They were all currently occupied and Sage immediately recognized Cecile sitting at the far end of the row, getting her bangs trimmed.

  Lost in their own beauty procedures and animated chats, neither employees nor customers paid much attention to Sage, so she crossed the cramped space towards the bottom of the room and cleared the stacks of beauty magazines from an ottoman in order to sit down. From this spot, she was only inches away from Cecile who was already enthusiastically recalling the details from last night’s murder. Beauty salons were seriously the best place to get updates on what was going on in any town.

  Sage was just in time. She settled down more comfortably and took out her small notebook, hoping to inconspicuously write down some keywords to later remind herself what she’d heard.

  “…know that I only come in and out, so I couldn’t really hear if there was any fight at dinner,” Cecile was saying. “Plus, the missus had ordered so much food last night, I barely managed to get everything out in time. The pumpkin pie was definitely not my best to date.”

  “So, who was there?” asked the woman sitting in the middle hairdresser’s chair, who’d had her hair dyed and was now waiting for the dye to process.

  “The family, of course, creepy James Blackwater, that sleazy Anabelle and her grandfather of a husband, and Primrose and her sister.”

  Sage cringed, but it seemed like Cecile hadn’t even remembered her face, because she didn’t pause and went right on.

  “Did you have to give fingerprints at the station?” the friend asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Cecile said with authority, “It was just like in a crime show, I’m telling you. They gave me coffee and recorded my version of things and all that.”

  “That’s so exciting!” the friend said, obviously impressed with the maid’s fancy life. “So, what did you tell them? Do you have any idea who did it?”

  Cecile lowered her voice to a loud whisper and Sage was forced to shuffle in her seat to hear her better among the clamor in the room.

  “I think I do, and I told them as much,” she said mysteriously. “Of course, all this is classified information, and I can’t really disclose my suspicions, but I can tell you for sure that it wasn’t me.”

  Sage stifled a snort. Cecile seemed to real
ly believe she was at the heart of a really exciting adventure and that she was in one of the main roles for once, not simply standing on the side and serving those at the main stage.

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” the friend exhaled in relief as if she’d really believed Cecile could confess to murder in a beauty salon. “But what did you tell them? Did you see or hear anything?”

  “Not much, but sheriff Greene assured me it was more than helpful for the investigation, and that I’ve really given him food for thought.”

  “Come on, tell me,” the friend whined and Sage thought, Yeah, say something useful already, “I swear I won’t go spreading it.”

  Cecile glanced around and her tiny mousy eyes landed on Sage, who managed to remain composed and slowly reached for a magazine.

  1,000 Wedding Hairstyles to Kill For.

  Wow, what a fitting title, Sage thought and started casually flipping through the pages of glowing brides. That seemed convincing enough for Cecile who turned back to her friend.

  “I have no idea what they were all doing, because as soon as I served desert at around 10:30, I got started with the washing up and kept doing that till at least 11:15. I told the sheriff as much. The only interesting things that happened during that time were that I heard the front door open once at around eleven, and then again maybe five or ten minutes later. I couldn’t see who went out and back in though. Oh, and another thing. Around eleven, right after someone went out the front door, Mr. Bluebird came in the kitchen to check if his wife was with me, which she wasn’t of course, so it must have been her that went out, but he didn’t stay, so I assume he went back to the game room.”

  “Then,” she went on, “almost immediately after the front door closed the second time, Mrs. Blackwater came in to see if I was done with the dishes. Seeing that I wasn’t, she started fixing her husband a cup of tea. She said she was taking it upstairs to him when she left the kitchen and almost immediately after that I heard her screaming upstairs. I knew something was terribly wrong, so I ran out and saw everyone climbing the steps, so I went along with them.”

  Sage had placed the small notebook inside the bridal magazine and was writing down Cecile’s words as fast as she could. She only wished she could ask the maid a few burning questions she had based on what she’d just heard, but of course she couldn’t.

  “Miss Fields?” someone called and Sage almost jumped in her seat. “Sage Fields?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Sage said, sitting up.

  “I’m ready for you now.”

  Sage stuffed the notebook and pencil in her tote bag and carried it off to the chair closest to the front window.

  “What can I do for you today?” the cheerful hairdresser said, pulling the elastic off her ponytail, letting her black hair fall down almost to her waist.

  “I’m not really sure,” Sage admitted. She hadn’t even thought about her hair before now.

  “You’ve got a beautiful mane here. Lots to work with,” the hairdresser smiled, “How about I surprise you?”

  “Okay,” Sage said, though the suggestion sounded horrifying, “Just let it be a gentle surprise. Nothing too drastic, okay?”

  “Sure,” the girl winked, “You can trust me.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Baby Breath and a Story from the Past

  “What on Earth?!” Prim’s jaw dropped as she saw her sister walk in through the flower shop’s door.

  “Don’t say a thing,” Sage said, raising her flat palm in Prim’s face. “I won’t hear it. It’s the people in this town, Prim. What’s the matter with them that they don’t understand proper English? I said nothing drastic.”

  Primrose burst into laughter, bending over and pressing her stomach with a hand. Sage stood still, frowning, waiting for her sister’s fit to pass.

  “I even paid money for this,” she said, her voice full of desperation.

  “It’s… Oh, it is divine, Sage,” Prim managed to say in between her laughing convulsions.

  Sage hadn’t had short hair… ever. Now her long ponytail was chopped off and in its place she sported a short bob that made her look like a Japanese doll.

  “I look like a boy!”

  “No, you don’t,” Prim said gently, fluffing her sister’s bowl-cut on the back of her head. Then another round of giggles erupted and it was a while before she calmed down. “You look classy. And just in time for your date, too.”

  “What? Seriously?” Sage moaned, “It was you who gave him my number? I don’t think this day can get any worse. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about tonight.”

  “Don’t be mad,” Prim said, “Dan is a nice guy. I couldn’t turn him down when he asked for the number. I thought you liked him too…”

  “You did? Based on what?”

  “Based on that you are both so good-looking and genuinely sweet people and that I’d love to be an auntie to your thousand babies. There’s no reason why you two wouldn’t have a good time tonight.”

  “Well, thanks for your little matchmaking scheme, but as of half an hour ago, I’m no longer eligible for the good-looking category.”

  “Shut up, Sage,” Prim said, “I swear it’s not that bad.”

  “How long do you think it would take to grow it back to normal? Like a decade?”

  “I refuse to indulge your self-pity, Sage,” Prim said, “You better tell me where you were all day and what you managed to find out, because I might have a piece of information or two for you.”

  “Really? And here I was, thinking you were happily cutting off rosebuds and sweeping petals from the floor. Admit it, you want to solve this just as much as I do!”

  “I wouldn’t say as much,” Prim said demurely, “But I admit it keeps bugging me that we were there and we practically missed a murder that happened right under our noses.”

  “Fantastic!” Sage said and clapped her hands. It was all she needed to forget about her unfortunate new look. “What did you find out?”

  “Not so fast. Here, help me spray-paint these baby breath sprays. I have an annoying customer who wants them purple and orange. Not the best combination, if you ask me.”

  Prim handed her sister a paper gown like the ones you found in hospitals and a pair of plastic goggles and when both of them were dressed up, they started shaking a can of spray paint each. Prim had placed old newspapers on the floor and saran-wrapped the buckets of baby breath, so they wouldn’t get the garish colors on anything else but the tiny white flowers.

  As they were spraying sprig after sprig, Sage used the moment to update her sister on everything that she’d learned so far, starting with Anabelle Bluebird, moving on to James Blackwater and finally recounting Cecile’s version of last night’s events.

  “Wait,” Prim said, sitting back on her heels and resting the spray can on her knee, “So, if the maid and Anabelle could be trusted, it wasn’t at all like we pictured it. I thought we were the only ones gone from the game room after eleven and before we heard the scream. Now it looks like everyone was walking about, going outside or poking into the kitchen.”

  “I know, everyone except for James Blackwater. At some point he might have even been left by himself in the game room. Just think about it. Anabelle was getting fresh air—highly suspicious if you ask me.”

  “I know. And then her husband, Mr. Bluebird, was looking for her in the kitchen,” Prim added.

  “And Mrs. Blackwater went to the kitchen as well to make tea for her husband.”

  “This is all so confusing,” Prim sighed. “I wish we could talk to James and see what he has to say.”

  “Well, Ben probably did already.”

  “You don’t think we should talk to Ben, do you? He might get upset.”

  “This is not like last time, Prim. It’s only natural for us to be curious about what happened the night we almost witnessed a murder.”

  “And almost got accused of it,” Prim said, “Yeah, you are right. Let’s talk to Ben tonight.”

  “After my date you
mean? Good idea. That will be my escape strategy if things get awkward.”

  “I don’t understand why you keep expecting the worst from people. Don’t tell me you don’t like Dan at least a tiny little bit.”

  “What was your bit of information?” Sage asked, glad she could change the topic and hide her embarrassment at the unexpected question.

  “Oh, right,” Prim said and resumed spraying the baby breath before her. “Well, you know I wanted Mrs. Blackwater as a client so badly. Only I didn’t expect she’d really become my client and the occasion won’t be yet another antiques auction, but her husband’s funeral.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sage said, finally removing her goggles and inspecting the result of her work. There wasn’t a single white flower left in her bucket. They were all a vibrant purple that could poke her eye out. Prim was right. The tiny white flowers now looked fake and ridiculous, but the client was always right. “Wait!”

  She got up and carried her bucket over to the cooler. It occurred to her that being a florist wasn’t a job for just anyone. It required actual daily physical labor and you needed to be quite fit to manage. Though her sister was anything but buff, with her soft curves and a picture-perfect hourglass figure, she must have quite the stamina underneath her frilly dresses and shirts. Seeing that housework and gardening had been Prim’s only workout prior to opening the shop, Sage realized just how much muscle was required to keep a clean home and a lush garden.

  When she returned, Prim was already done herself.

  “Time for a break,” she panted as she hauled up the bucket and carried it off to the back. “How about I fix us a cup of tea and we drink it outside. I think I’ve ingested enough spray paint for one day.”

  “Just what I was thinking. I hope your other flowers won’t be too mad we’ve practically suffocated them with all these chemicals.”

  Sage stepped outside and settled at the small table in front of the store to wait for Prim. It felt nice to breathe in the fragrant afternoon air. The day had started to grow considerably shorter and though it was just after seven o’clock, it was already dark and chilly.