by Shéa MacLeod
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our Spring Ball!” Ella Cayse declared, throwing out her arms dramatically as if to embrace us all. Everyone clapped again, this time more enthusiastically. “I want to thank the Regency Trio for providing us with lovely music this evening. Sandy Youst on violin. Gemma French on viola. And Andre Tanaka on harp-lute. Also joining us is our own Maurice Patel on the flute. Thank you.” More clapping, especially for Maurice who smiled happily and waved his flute at us. “Now, it’s time for the first dance! Duke of Kent’s Waltz. Everyone, choose a partner and join us.”
People chatted excitedly. Apparently, this dance was a popular one.
“Shall we?” Lucas held out his hand with a flourish.
I laughed. “Why not?”
We joined the other dancers in a straight line. Ladies on one side, and gentlemen—or ladies playing the gentleman’s part—on the other side facing us. Ella quickly ran us through a few moves, then the music began, a charming tune that was light and bright.
There was a lot of grabbing hands and circling around. It got confusing and I slammed into my fellow dancers more than once. Nobody cared. It was all met with laughter and smiles. By the end of the dance, I was a little warm and winded.
“What a workout!” I said, fanning myself with a blue silk folding fan Cheryl had stuffed in my reticule.
“It’s amazing,” Lucas agreed, “being able to enjoy the Regency right here in Astoria.”
“I had no idea you were so interested in this historical period.” His books were modern thrillers, though I supposed there was some historical stuff in some of them. Relics causing a ruckus, that sort of thing.
“I’m fascinated by history in general. And I do enjoy a Jane Austen novel now and then.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners.
My reticule vibrated. I fished out my phone and glanced at the screen. “Oh, it’s Mike!”
“Mike?” Lucas raised an eyebrow.
“Jayne’s ex-boyfriend. Apparently, he only broke up with her a couple months ago. I messaged to ask him why.”
“Why would you do that?” His tone made it clear he thought I was being nosey.
“I don’t know. I thought maybe it could have something to do with Bryon’s murder.” I opened the social media app and tapped on Mike’s message. As I read it, my eyes widened.
“Well?” Lucas prodded.
“Crikey, heck. I really think Jayne is our murderer.”
MY MIND WAS BUZZING. I was trying desperately to think of a way to corner Jayne and force her to tell the truth. I just wasn’t sure how to do it. Getting her alone wouldn’t be a problem. She had a tendency to stand on the edges of things. Every now and then, she’d wander out of the building for a few minutes, then wander back in. I was pretty sure she was hitting her own flask. What to do?
At one point she must have caught me staring. She gave me a dirty look and pointedly turned her back. I believe in the Regency they would have referred to that as the “cut direct.” How mature.
Finally, I decided I needed to use the ladies’ room. It was up the stairs and near the front door. A small space with a single stall and an area for washing one’s hands or checking makeup. A cut-glass dish full of cinnamon potpourri sat on the counter. It was old and had a slightly musty smell. There was a small window above the commode, and it stood open slightly, letting in fresh air.
Once I was done with my business, I washed my hands. I noticed in the mirror that my lipstick needed a touch up. I was digging around in my reticule when someone loomed up behind me. I glanced in the mirror, startled.
“Jayne.”
She glared at me. “Why are you asking around about me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mike messaged me. You emailed him about why we broke up. Why is it any business of yours?”
I turned to face her, feeling at a disadvantage. “Because you lied about everything. Was Bryon even your boyfriend?”
“Of course he was.”
“You don’t seem very upset about his death.”
“What does it matter to you how I feel?” she snapped. She leaned down until her nose was inches from mine. “Let it go, Miss Nosey. Or else.”
“Or else what?” I could have slapped myself. Goading a potential murderess was perhaps not my best plan.
“Or else you’ll be sorry.” And she turned and swept dramatically from the room. The door banged shut behind her.
For a moment I stood there, one hand braced on the counter, breathing as deeply as my stays would let me. That was close. Close to what, I wasn’t sure. And Dagnabbit, I hadn’t had a chance to confront her about Mike’s message. I turned back around to finish my lipstick and found my hand was shaking just a little. Jayne could be downright scary when she wanted to. There’d been something so… dark and cold in her eyes. Would she really harm me?
If she was responsible for two murders, then I’d no doubt she would. The point was, was she the killer? Or was I being ridiculous and overdramatic?
As I finished my lipstick and put it away, the faint scent of smoke caught my nose. I sniffed. Was something on fire?
I looked around the small space, but saw no flames or smoke. How strange.
I turned to go, but when I pressed my hand against the bathroom door, it wouldn’t budge. I gave it a push. It still didn’t move. I pushed harder. Nothing. The smell of burning intensified, and smoke curled beneath the door. Oh, my gosh, there was a fire!
I threw my whole body against the door. It bent and vibrated but didn’t open. Someone had locked me in! Jayne. It had to be!
I yelled and slammed my palm against the door. Either no one heard me, or no one was paying attention. The smoke was getting heavier and even the open window wasn’t helping. I coughed, my throat burning and eyes watering.
I needed to get out of here. And quick!
I cast around for a second exit, but there were no other doors and just the one window. Well, it wasn’t the first time I’d escaped through a bathroom window. Granted, the last time had been less than successful, but I was hoping this time would be better. It had to be unless I wanted my goose cooked. Literally.
I yanked open the stall door, flipped down the commode lid, and climbed on top. The window was a bit sticky and my stays restricted movement, but I managed to shove the window all the way open and poke my head out.
It was a long way down.
The lodge had been built on the hillside overlooking the Columbia River. The front entrance was on the upward side, so the foyer sat almost ground level. But the bathroom was located on the side where the ground sloped away, making it a second story drop. No bushes or anything to break my fall. Just a bit of patchy earth between it and the neighboring house.
“Bother.” This was going to hurt.
I maneuvered myself out of the window, scooching until I was half-in and half-out. Head first wasn’t optimal. I needed to go feet first. How to manage that?
I scooted back in. This time I climbed up on the toilet tank. It rocked dangerously beneath me as I stuck one leg out the window. Then the other. Now I was half-in and half-out, with my backside practically mooning the neighborhood. Thank goodness, I’d insisted on wearing biking shorts underneath my gown. Not a fan of thigh rub. With thighs like mine, that can be a real problem.
My hips scraped against the window frame. No doubt I’d have bruises come morning. I wiggled further, holding onto the window sill for dear life while my legs dangled in midair.
By this time, the bathroom was filled with thick, choking smoke. Somewhere an alarm clanged wildly. I could hear shouting. And then from below:
“Viola! What the blazes are you doing?”
I didn’t dare risk a look around, but I didn’t need to. I’d recognize Lucas’s voice anywhere. “Someone locked me in the bathroom.”
“What?”
“Someone locked me in the bathroom!” I shouted, my voice half muffled by my bosom which was smashed up under my chin.<
br />
“I’ll come back in.”
“No!” This time it was Bat. “It’s too dangerous.”
“If you don’t help her fast, she’s going to fall and hurt herself.” Cheryl.
“Right.” Lucas again. “Hang on, Viola. Bat’s gone to get a ladder.”
“I don’t think he’s going to get here on time.”
“What?”
“I can’t hold on!” I bellowed. My arms were shaking with fatigue.
There was an expletive followed by, “Okay, drop. I’ll catch you.”
“What?” This time I did risk a look under my armpit. “You can’t catch me.”
His face was determined. “Yes, babe. I can. Now drop.”
And so I did. I might have screamed all the way down.
Chapter 15
All Fired Up
There’s something incredibly romantic and rather sexy about a man catching you out of midair like that scene in The Princess Bride. Especially when you’re on the plumper side and not used to being swept up in someone’s arms. Luas didn’t even stagger. Instead, he gave me a swift kiss and put me on my feet.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Bruised a little, but otherwise fine,” I said, a little winded and still shaking a bit. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Someone yelled ‘fire’ and hit the alarm. We all exited. Next thing I know you’re dangling from the bathroom window. What happened to you?”
“I was in there touching up my lipstick when Jayne barged in and started threatening me. She left, but next thing I knew, there was smoke coming up under the door and someone had locked me in. Since there was no other way out, I had to take the window.” I shrugged as if it were no big deal, but inside I felt a bit queasy.
“You could have been burned alive!” Cheryl said dramatically.
“Probably would have died of smoke inhalation first,” Lucas said.
“Gee, thanks, guys. You know how to make a girl feel better.”
They both apologized immediately.
Just then, Bat rounded the corner holding one end of a ladder. Kieran Knightly was holding the other. When they saw me, they both looked relieved.
I had to tell Bat all over again what happened. He summed it up quickly. “You think Jayne tried to kill you?”
“I mean, I can’t swear to it, but she was the last one in the bathroom. Who else would have locked me in?”
“I’ll have a chat with her,” he said grimly.
Sirens wailed as the fire department charged up the hill. Soon there were firemen swarming everywhere.
Turned out the fire had been started in a wastebasket outside the women’s bathroom. Other than some charring in the vestibule, smoke damage in the bathroom, and the destruction of the bathroom door, everything was fine. With the fire out, they let us in long enough to gather our possessions, then escorted us out.
“There’ll be an investigation,” Bat assured me. “If it was Jayne, we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, stay away from her.”
“Sure. Okay.” But I kept my fingers crossed behind my back. Jayne had some explaining to do.
Lucas drove me home. Probably for the best. I was still feeling a little shaky. He offered to stay over, but I told him I’d be fine. I didn’t want him knowing my plans. He might try and stop me. Which would have been the smart thing to do.
I got out of my Regency clothes and took a quick shower to get out the smoke smell. I had to wash my hair three times. Then I put on jeans, a navy sweater, and a pair of blue sneakers, put my hair up in a bun, and got in my car. I didn’t even bother with makeup.
All the way down the hill, I planned what I’d say. But when I got to the B & B, Ella told me Jayne was gone.
“After the fire, she said she’d had enough. She packed up her stuff and drove back to Portland. She left half an hour ago.”
Stuff and bother. She’d gotten away.
Ella grabbed my arm. “I know you think Jayne did this, but she couldn’t possibly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was in the vestibule and saw her exiting the bathroom. She went immediately to the dance floor and I followed her down. She never left. She couldn’t possibly have locked you in or set that fire.”
Botheration. There went my best suspect.
“I’m so sorry this happened.” She looked stricken. “I promise. Our events are usually much less…”
“Exciting?” I supplied.
She gave me a wry smile. “Something like that, yes. We have fun, don’t get me wrong, but murder?” She shuddered. “This whole weekend has been a nightmare.”
“Will the rest of you be heading back to Portland?” I asked.
“Yes. Detective Battersea said we could go after we answered a few questions. So most will be heading back tonight. He already spoke to Jayne. First thing, actually.”
And he must have cleared her, or she’d be in the pokey right about now. I heaved a sigh. “Well, thanks for letting me join in the, er, fun. It was certainly an interesting weekend.”
“You should join us again,” she said.
As if.
IT TOOK A FEW DAYS, but the fire department concluded their investigation. Arson. Someone threw some booze on the papers in the wastebasket and lit it on fire. The damage was pretty much contained to the bathroom area, so Bat was convinced I’d been the target.
By this time, all the costumers had returned to Portland and their normal lives. Well, as normal as could be. Anthony Yates was still in jail and I was keeping a close eye on the rest of them via social media.
Bat’s own investigation had cleared Jayne, just as Ella had said. And no one else remembered seeing anyone near the bathrooms at the time. They’d all been rather vague about who was in the ballroom, too. So, really, it could have been almost any one of them.
But who would have benefitted from my death? I shuddered just thinking of it. It was creepy as all get out to think I was the target of someone’s ire. So much that they wanted me to die a fiery death. Well, a smoky one, anyway.
The only reason someone would benefit from me dying was if they thought my being alive threatened them. And that would only happen if I knew something about one of them they didn’t want revealed. Probably something really horrible.
I collected a notebook and pen, got a cup of coffee with Almond Roca creamer, and curled up on the corner of the couch to go over the suspects once again.
I didn’t care what anyone said. I was still convinced Jayne had something to do with it. I wrote her name at the top of the paper. What did she have to hide?
Her possible affair with Tabitha, for one. Certainly, there’d been a kiss. And if what her ex-boyfriend Mike had to say was true, there’d been more to it than that. So even if she didn’t murder Tabitha and/or Bryon, she certainly had something to hide. Something I knew about. And really, I still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t a killer.
I went through the rest of the list one at a time. Obviously, Anthony was out. He’d been behind bars at the time. Kind of hard to start a fire from there.
I figured I could scratch out both the Patels and the Knightlys. They had no reason to kill me. Nor did they have any reason to kill either Tabitha or Anthony. Unless you counted sheer unpleasantness of the victims.
Ella Cayse was a possible. At least for setting the fire. She’d been in the area and we’d had only her word that she’d gone straight back to the ballroom. Of course, I couldn’t see why she’d do it. Not to mention that it would ruin the reputation of her group. Ditto for Gwen.
The young girls… I just couldn’t see it. I mean, I suppose they could have killed Bryon for being a world class jerk, but the rest? No.
Lisa? Mary? Mary was such a mouse, and we’d actually gotten on quite well. She had no reason to hurt me. And Lisa was more interested in flirting with men. So I was back to square one.
I tapped my pen against my chin. It just didn’t make sense. Jayne was the perfect antagonist. And yet, i
f Ella was to be believed, she couldn’t have locked me in and set the fire. Granted, that didn’t mean she was innocent of the murders. But if she wasn’t innocent, then who else would have locked me in?
Just then, the phone rang. It was Bat.
“I thought you should know we’ve let Anthony Yates go.”
“Good.” I still wasn’t convinced he killed either his wife or Bryon. “Why? I thought you were sure he’d done it.”
“I was. But the District Attorney says we don’t have enough evidence. There weren’t any fingerprints on the foxglove vial and the lock on his door was broken, so anyone could have slipped in and planted the thing. We had to let him loose.”
“I’m with the DA on this one,” I said.
He sighed heavily. “Good night, Viola.”
After he hung up, I logged into social media again. Over the last few days, the costumers had posted pictures of the events over the long weekend. I’d enjoyed seeing them and hoped there’d be a clue somewhere. But as yet I hadn’t found anything.
I smiled when I noticed Katherine Patel had uploaded some new photos. They were all time-stamped in bright orange. Apparently, she didn’t know how to edit photos.
There were some great pics on the ship. Even a good one of me. Lots of pretty pictures of the picnic and Flavel House. Various shots at the B & B. And then the ball.
There was one image with everyone lined up. I frowned. Everyone except me. Bat, Lucas, and Cheryl were there, but I was missing. I glanced at the time stamp. That was when I’d gone to the bathroom.
My heart kicked into high gear as I carefully scanned each face. Katherine Patel was there, but not Maurice because I knew he was behind the camera. He took all their pictures. The Knightlys smiled merrily as they stood next to the two young girls. Gwen was at one end and Ella at the other. Jayne next to Ella. The Regency Trio was there holding their instruments.
Wait…
“She was missing.”
I knew who did it. I knew who set the fire.