What the Hatmaker Heard

by Sandra Bretting

  “I know who killed Wesley. It’s Jamie, the florist. He’s the one who sent the clock. He must’ve been the one who poisoned the groom Friday night.”

  To his everlasting credit, Lance didn’t laugh at me. Instead, he turned on his heels and hurried back to the kitchen, as fast as he could.

  I scurried behind him, suddenly energized by the latest turn of events. It all seemed so logical now. If only we’d known what to look for in the beginning.

  Lance hurried back to where Nelle stood. “Mrs. Honeycutt.” He quickly spun her around. “Did Jamie Lee spend the night here last night?”

  “Why, yes. Yes, he did.” The intensity of his voice surprised her. “Why, Officer? Is there a problem?”

  “Just answer me this: where did he sleep?”

  Her gaze pinballed to me, but I remained silent. “Why, I think he took the last bedroom down the hall. He wanted to leave, but Lorelei wouldn’t let him go.”

  With that, Lance released her arm and broke into a dead run. I struggled to keep up with him, my heart pounding inside my chest. I tried to ignore the faces watching us as we raced down the hall, the figures blurring from one person to the next by the time we reached the staircase.

  Lance flew up the steps, his long legs hurdling them two at a time. I hopscotched from one to the next, but he still outpaced me.

  I finally pulled even with him when he paused by the door to the last bedroom, clearly winded.

  I let him walk into the room first, after a few deep breaths, where he drew his gun. When he reached the center of the room, he slowly turned around and around. After a moment, he waved me inside.

  The room was a mess. The dresser’s drawers hung open, papers littered an antique desk, and a braided rug was folded up against the wall like a flattened accordion. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, just like Buck’s, only the comforter on this one laid in a heap and pillows spilled over the sides.

  Lance turned around again. “Looks like we missed him.”

  “But…but that can’t be.” I tried to focus, even with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Across the way, someone had thrown open the closet door, and hangers tumbled off the rod, every which way. Nothing had been left behind. Nothing, that was, but the scent of something vaguely familiar.

  “We just missed him, Lance. He can’t be but a few seconds ahead of us.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “Smell the air. It’s his cologne.”

  We both turned and dashed from the room. This time, I took the lead, as we flew down the stairs and into the foyer. By now, everyone else in the house knew something was afoot, because they all congregated by the front door.

  “Out of my way!” I threaded through the throng and yanked open the door. Once I jogged down the outer staircase, I finally paused on the last step to wait for Lance.

  Nothing else stirred around me. “C’mon, Lance,” I yelled. “He must’ve gone around back!”

  I sped along the side of the mansion, skirting around one of the water towers. Once I moved past the wine cellar where I’d first discovered the used glasses and cigarette paper Friday night, I continued onto the garden path. It was here that a rainstorm had forced me to seek shelter. And it was here where I once again heard the sound of voices as I drew near the beautyberry bush.

  I thrust out my arm to stop Lance. Luckily, he skidded to a stop, only seconds from crashing into the bush.

  Someone spoke on the other side of it, just as we arrived.

  “We have to get out of here.” It was a man, and he sounded desperate.

  The branches blocked me from seeing the speaker, but I recognized the voice right away.

  “It’s Jamie,” I whispered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Luckily, the unmistakable scent of Paco Rabanne drifted on the air, unimpeded by the flowers on the bush, which wouldn’t bloom for another month or so. “I’d recognize that cologne anywhere.”

  Sure enough, Jamie spoke again. “Come with me. You know you want to. You know you love me.”

  Love me? Lance and I exchanged quick looks. Everything else fell silent in that moment; even the insects, which seemed to know something was up.

  “I can’t.” Now a woman spoke.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I whispered. “It’s Lorelei.”

  “That can’t be right,” Lance whispered back.

  “It is.” While I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, we had to face facts. “That’s our bride, Lance.”

  Apparently, Jamie didn’t take Lorelei’s rejection lightly. When he spoke, his voice was raw. “You can’t stay here. I won’t let you.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” she said. “Don’t you see that? Otherwise, they’ll think I had something to do with it.”

  “But didn’t you? You were the one who suggested the poison.”

  “I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,” she scoffed. “I thought you’d drug him just enough so he’d miss the ceremony.”

  “Miss the ceremony?” Now it was Jamie’s turn to scoff. “What good would that do? He was never going to let you go. You have to believe me.”

  I pried aside a branch to see the couple. Lorelei stood across from Jamie, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I won’t go with you.”

  Suddenly, Jamie lurched forward and grabbed her wrist.

  “Come with me.” His voice had hardened. “It’s not a question, Lorelei.”

  “What are you doing? You’re hurting me. Let me go!”

  Lance must’ve heard enough, because he barreled around the hedge, until he emerged on the other side. Everything slowed at that point. I cautiously followed behind him, but only close enough to watch the action without getting in Lance’s way.

  Rage contorted Jamie’s face. Before he could react, Lance dove into him and tackled him to the ground. He had no choice but to release Lorelei’s wrist at that point, and the girl’s arm jerked backward.

  It was no contest. Not only did Lance outweigh Jamie by at least forty pounds, but he had hundreds of hours of police training under his belt. He expertly wrestled Jamie onto his stomach, and then he pressed his knee into the small of the man’s back.

  In one fluid motion, Lance retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and flicked them up so the blades pointed toward Jamie’s wrists. He clicked the shackles into place, and then he yanked on the chain between the man’s hands to make sure the blades had engaged.

  Everything was over in a matter of seconds.

  “You have the right to remain silent…” Lance began.

  At that point, I brought my gaze to Lorelei, who’d stepped several feet away from the melee.

  I expected her to look horrified. To gape at the two men struggling only six feet away. But instead, a slight smile played on her lips, as if she knew what was going to happen even before it did. As if she wanted it to happen.

  “Lance!” I yelled.

  But he couldn’t hear me. He was too busy reading Jamie his Miranda rights while he pinned the man to the ground.

  So I did the first thing that popped into my head. I lurched toward Lorelei and grabbed her arm before she could leave.

  “Let me go!” she hissed.

  “Not so fast.” I tightened my grip, until my knuckles blanched white against her arm. “You knew all along. Didn’t you? You knew Jamie was going to kill Wesley.”

  “You’re crazy,” she spat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  By this time, Lance had finished reading Jamie his rights, but he kept his knee planted squarely in the middle of the man’s back, just in case.

  “Lance!” I only hoped he could hear me now.

  He finally brought his gaze to mine. His demeanor changed when he saw Lorel
ei struggle against me. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t forget about this one,” I said. “She knew all along.”

  At that moment, Lorelei did something shocking. Instead of denying it, like I expected, she began to laugh. But not a normal laugh. It sounded high-pitched and mildly hysterical. It was the laugh of someone who had nothing left to lose. “What a joke. You can’t prove anything. And I’m not saying a word till my attorney gets here. He’s going to destroy you two.”

  Slowly but surely, Lance rose from the ground, and then he yanked Jamie up about a foot. Dust coated the man’s face, and he’d closed his eyes.

  “Here.” Lance nodded at me. “You hold onto this one. Good thing I brought a zip tie.”

  He and I traded places while he pulled a plastic cable tie—what police called a flex-cuff—from the pocket of his shirt. Leave it to Lance to be prepared for anything, because he quickly used the tie to secure Lorelei’s wrists.

  By now, I knew the proper way to maintain control of a subject—thanks to the half-dozen times I’d already helped Lance with a police investigation—and Jamie didn’t put up much of a fight. He’d sunk back to the ground, and he could feel the pressure of my knee against his back. He knew he couldn’t escape.

  When Lance finished subduing Lorelei, he roughly pushed her forward. “We’re going to take a little walk. There’s a houseful of people who would love to know what’s going on around here.”

  Chapter 19

  Once Jamie rose as well, we all began to walk single file toward the house. Jamie and Lorelei resembled prisoners on a forced march—which they were—and they hung their heads as they shuffled along. Neither said a word, and they didn’t resist when Lance and I guided them onto the front steps.

  By now, the entire household had emptied onto the front porch. Over there was Darryl, who held his gardening shears like a pistol, just in case. Beside him stood Stormie, who looked so surprised, she forgot to use the microphone at her side.

  The only one who didn’t look dazed was Nelle, and only because she seemed horrified instead. She gaped at us as we slowly straggled up the steps. When her daughter finally stood within arms’ reach, she leaned forward and spoke directly to her. “Lorelei? What’s going on? What—”

  “I’m afraid you’re looking at the people who killed Wesley Carmichael,” Lance interrupted. “Jamie here administered the poison, but Lorelei was his accomplice.”

  “I…I don’t understand.” Nelle’s gaze shifted to me. “Lorelei had something to do with this?”

  “I’m afraid so,” I said. “She tricked Jamie into committing the murder. They were a couple all along.”

  Something rustled nearby, and, before anyone could stop her, Violet burst forward. She reared back her hand as soon as she reached Lorelei, and then she struck the girl as hard as she could. The slap echoed in the stillness, and Lorelei’s head snapped back.

  When Violet moved to do it again, Darryl rushed forward and grabbed her hand in midair. He held it there, immobile, while Violet shook with rage.

  “I knew it! I knew she had something to do with it. Why, I’ll…I’ll…”

  Before she could finish, Darryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from Lorelei. She kicked and sputtered, but Darryl somehow managed to maneuver her back to the front door, where he pulled her into the house, and the duo disappeared.

  We were all too stunned to speak.

  Nelle recovered first, and when she did, she shook her head sadly. “Why, Lorelei? Why would you do that?”

  Slowly, Lorelei’s head tilted up. An angry red welt traveled from her jawline to her ear. The blow seemed to have taken away some of her fight, but not all of it. “Daddy always told me I could do better. He knew I deserved more than Wesley.”

  “But Wesley loved you, honey.” Nelle slowly but surely leaned away from her daughter, as if she was seeing the girl in a new light. And it wasn’t a pretty picture. “But you cheated on him, didn’t you? I didn’t raise you that way. What happened?”

  “I grew up.” Bitterness tinged Lorelei’s voice. “And I almost gave you the perfect wedding. Isn’t that what you wanted, Mother? Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in debt.”

  The words stunned Nelle. But after a moment she recovered enough to turn her back on her daughter. She began to walk away slowly, and she never once looked back as she, too, disappeared through the front doorway.

  In the meantime, Lance must’ve realized the show was over, because he pulled Lorelei in front of him and began to guide her up the steps. The crowd cut them a wide swath, and I followed in their wake, with Jamie in tow.

  I suspected which path Lance would take, and, sure enough, he moved through the foyer and into the hall. The sunroom beckoned at the very end of it, and we once again found ourselves just outside the sunny room.

  By now, I wanted no part of the breakfast buffet, and I marched past it with Jamie at my side. The wedding party must’ve felt the same way because they, too, bypassed the table on their way to the sunroom.

  But Lance stopped the group before anyone could enter. “I’m sorry, but everyone else can go home now. I don’t need to conduct any more interviews. Thank you all for cooperating, and I’m sure you’ll read about the arrest in your local paper.”

  “Um, hm.” Stormie cleared her throat pointedly and indicated the microphone at her side.

  “Or check out the local TV newscast,” he added. “I’m sure Miss Lanai here will cover everything on the six o’clock news.”

  The way Stormie beamed at that, she looked like the proverbial cat who’d just swallowed the canary. Despite the ugly scene on the porch, she seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

  Chapter 20

  One by one, the group began to disperse. Some people went upstairs to gather their things, while others headed directly for their cars. Within a few minutes, only Electra and Darryl remained with us by the sunroom.

  Lance nudged Lorelei ahead of him, and I followed suit with Jamie. My charge didn’t need any coaxing on where to sit, because he flopped onto the wicker settee as soon as he entered the room, and then he leaned his head against the backrest.

  Once Lance read Lorelei her Miranda rights, he moved her to one of the wicker chairs, too, but she defiantly perched on its armrest.

  “We’re taking you down to the station in a few minutes,” he said, “but I want to get a few things straight first. Is there anything either of you want to tell me?”

  He didn’t elaborate, but that was part of his plan. The less Lance said the better, because most suspects couldn’t cope with silence for more than a few seconds. Maybe it was the guilt that spurred them on, but I’d seen criminals crack after just a moment or two. As if they needed a distraction—any distraction—from what they’d done.

  “I’m not saying anything.” Lorelei kept her gaze trained on the ceiling. “And you can’t make me.”

  “It’s true, I can’t.” Lance modulated his voice to make it sound as if the conversation was nothing more than an ordinary, everyday chat. “But why don’t you help yourself by telling me what you know. The judge might go easier on you if he hears you were cooperative.”

  When no one spoke, Lance repeated his offer. “That’s what I’d do, if I were you. Tell me what you know. Don’t leave anything out. It’s all going to come out anyway.”

  When Jamie moved to speak, Lorelei jerked her head down. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed at him. “It’s a trap. He’s trying to get us to confess. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it, Detective?”

  “Call it whatever you want, but I’d call it a little conversation. Just the four of us.” He threw me a look, which was my cue to get involved.

  “I’m sure you’re both worried sick about this,” I said. “Maybe it was an accident. Maybe you didn’t know the poison was going to kill Wesley.
I could see how that would happen.”

  Of course, I knew no such thing, but if Lance was going to be the big, bad police detective, I was going to be the sympathetic sidekick. There was a reason the good cop/bad cop routine was so cliché, and that was because it worked.

  “That’s … that’s it!” Jamie gazed at me hopefully. “You understand. I only gave him the cigarette because I thought it’d make him feel better. You know, doctor it up with something that would help him.”

  “Jamie!” Lorelei’s voice was icy. “Shut up. Don’t say another word. I’m warning you.”

  “Or what?” Compared to her, his voice was soft. “You’ll leave me? I already know that’s going to happen. What else can go wrong?”

  “A lot.” She wasn’t swayed by his tone. “Don’t say another word until I call my attorney. I mean it.”

  Jamie slowly shook his head. “No. I’m not going to listen to you anymore. You’re the one who’s been trying to trick me. This is all your fault.”

  “Oh, grow up,” she said. “I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “Sounds to be me like you might’ve been a victim here, too, Jamie.” I used my most sympathetic tone. “It happens sometimes, you know.”

  “Yes. Yes, it does.” Once again, his gaze was pleading. “She’s the one who told me I should use the thorn apple after we both read about the plant. I thought it was interesting when I found out what it could do. But she took it one step further. She’s the one who bought the cigarette papers. She’s the one—”

  “For the last time, Jamie, shut up!” Lorelei spoke through clenched teeth. She looked like she wanted to strike him, but the handcuffs wouldn’t let her.

  Finally, he seemed to realize he couldn’t win, because Jamie dropped his head and fell silent.

  Which was Lance’s cue to pull out his cell phone. Once he dialed a number and said a few words into the receiver, he lowered it again. “Now, we wait.”

  While I leaned against one of the walls, grateful for the support for my aching back, Electra approached me cautiously. Like me, she looked like something a cat had dragged in, as my grandfather would say, and she barely managed a weak grin.