Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3)

by Loulou Harrington

  “…Joe Tyler Saturday evening,” Jesse finished in a mumble, all her attention focused on the woman who didn’t appear to be aware of their presence.

  As if coming out of a trance, Nettie lifted her head, slowed her steps and came to a stop a good twenty feet away. She seemed stunned by their presence, or horrified—it could have been either. Then almost immediately her chin lifted, her shoulders squared and her backbone straightened.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Jesse smiled the big, fake smile she pulled out whenever she refused to be intimidated and wanted to throw the other person off guard. “We’re taking a walk in the woods,” she said, making her voice as chirpy as she could, considering that chirpy wasn’t her natural state. “We were hoping this would lead to a nice view. Does it?”

  “Yes. It overlooks the sea. But it’s a rocky shoreline.” Nettie glanced toward Vivian, then back to Jesse. “I’m not sure it’s a safe place for you to be wandering.”

  “We thought we heard a boat starting up,” Jesse said.

  “Probably a fisherman checking his traps,” Nettie answered.

  “So you didn’t see him.”

  “I didn’t pay any attention,” the housekeeper said. “I walk here every morning. From the house to the water and back. I have a lot on my mind today.”

  “Do you think it’s going to work?” Jesse asked. “The bed and breakfast that Amanda has arranged for all of you to share?”

  “I think it’s a damned fool idea, if you want to know the truth. But I see her point. And I’m going to give it a try. I just hate it that my success is depending on those other people. They seem to like whining a whole lot more than working. But maybe Mr. Daniels can help.”

  In that moment, Jesse saw a softening in the other woman that hadn’t been there before. “Do you think you’ll be able to work with the others?” she asked. “I’m part owner in a tea room, and I know how much effort it takes to run a business, even with friends. Some people just don’t know how to work as a team.”

  “Then we’ll just have to learn, I guess. I left here once with my tail between my legs, and I won’t do it again. I’ve got nowhere left to go.”

  “I have some business experience,” Vivian said quietly, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. “I would be willing to spend some time here with you all while you are getting things sorted out. I think I could be of some help to you if you were willing to have me.”

  Jesse turned to stare at Vivian, forgetting for a moment to close her gaping jaw. It was evident that this idea had not just popped into Vivian’s head—that she had been thinking about it, waiting for the right moment to offer. But why she would do it was not so obvious.

  “Well,” Nettie said without much enthusiasm, “I suppose any help would be handy to have. I don’t have any idea of what all needs to be done or how we should to go about getting anything organized. So if you have some experience with that…”

  Vivian smiled. “Oh, I have quite a bit of experience with that. Although I must warn you, I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

  “Think you can get those other lunkheads to listen to you?” Nettie asked.

  “In all modesty, I must say that I excel with lunkheads.”

  “She does,” Jesse affirmed. “I’m one of them, and I can attest to her skill with even the worst of us.”

  Nettie gave Jesse an assessing look, and Jesse did her best to hide any lingering lunkish tendencies. Looking unimpressed, the other woman turned back to Vivian and extended her hand. “Okay, if it’s all right with Mr. Daniels, I’d be happy to accept your offer. And I thank you for your generosity. I’m not sure we can pay you anything.”

  “I’m semi-retired,” Vivian said. “I do this sort of thing as a volunteer now. A place to stay will be perfectly sufficient.”

  “Good. It’s a deal.” With the handshake done, Nettie moved past them. “I need to be getting back.”

  Jesse let her go several yards down the path toward the soon-to-be bed and breakfast before asking, “By the way, Nettie, do you happen to know who the first person was to discover Amanda after…well, after her fall?”

  The other woman stopped and turned back to face them. “It was me. I’m always up just before daybreak to make my rounds through the house, making sure everything is as it should be. I come down the staircase by the kitchen, turn on the lights and unlock the doors downstairs. Then I go up the staircase at the other end of the house to open the empty rooms upstairs so they can air during the day.”

  She grew silent, and Jesse could see her jaw clenching and the muscles in her throat working as she swallowed. Then, after blinking back what Jesse would bet were tears, Nettie continued. “I found her, sprawled face down, blood smeared on the wall and seeping out around her head. I started up toward her, but that little dog raised up from behind Miss Amanda, put her two front paws right in the middle of Amanda’s back and started barking at me. When I took another step, that sweet little dog flattened itself on Amanda’s back and growled at me. Actually bared its teeth. Then it stopped and looked real apologetic, but when I took another step closer, it growled again.”

  Nettie shook her head. “I’ve never seen the like. I knew Miss Amanda had that dog right with her all the time, but I never knew it was so devoted to her. Other people heard the barking and started to show up, but nobody could get near the body until Bethany O’Connor finally stirred herself and came down.”

  “You mean she was the last one to show up?” Vivian asked.

  “No, that would be Gordon Pitts. But he doesn’t sleep in the house, so that’s understandable. He arrived from behind me, coming from the kitchen, I suppose, when he heard the commotion.”

  “And the others,” Jesse asked. “Where did they come from?”

  “That Treena girl came from downstairs and was standing behind me when Gordon arrived. Then Celeste came down from the second floor, but had to stop midway on the stairs because of the dog. Just like with me, it began to bark ferociously when Celeste got anywhere near Amanda.”

  “And where did Bethany come from?” Jesse had everyone placed in her mind but Bethany.

  “Her room. I heard the door open and close, and she came out all flushed and wrapped in her robe. She said later she’d been taking a bath. Anyway, Celeste backed up and let her by, and the dog even barked at Bethany at first, but she finally got it quieted down. I was so afraid that Miss Amanda was lying there all that time, injured, but when Bethany touched her leg, she jerked her hand back and screamed. I knew then that Amanda had been dead for a while.”

  “And someone called the police then?” Vivian asked.

  “Gordon had already called. He just called them back to tell them that med-evac wasn’t needed. That it should be a medical examiner instead. Then Bethany gathered up the dog, and the two of them sat there next to Miss Amanda until the police got here. She insisted nobody should go near, so we all went to the kitchen to wait. Except for Gordon. He stayed where he was at the bottom of the stairs. They were the ones who were closest to Miss Amanda and mourned her the hardest. Look, I really need to get back now.”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

  Once Nettie was safely out of earshot, Vivian said, “So, I’m guessing Gordon had been in Bethany’s room.”

  “That would be my guess, too. I suppose they have a way for him to sneak out that doesn’t involve the door into the hallway.”

  “Which would mean that if either of them were the killer, they would have to be in on it together.”

  “Or one of them drugged the other.”

  “I’m trying to simplify things, Jesselyn, dear. You’re not helping.”

  “The curse of a devious mind. My apologies.”

  “I guess I’ll forgive you since that devious mind really comes in handy sometimes.” Vivian linked arms with Jesse and started off in the direction they had been going before encountering the housekeeper. “We have just enough time
if we hurry, and I really want to see this rocky shoreline that’s not safe for tourists like us.”

  They walked on and in a matter of minutes the path emerged from the trees to an expanse of water bounded all around by islands, rising like hillocks from the sea. Pinpoints of sunlight glittered like diamonds on the water’s rippled surface. A little way offshore a red ball bobbed like a cork in a bathtub, close enough to swim to if you didn’t mind the icy water and swift currents.

  “I guess that would be the fishing buoy that the boat we heard leaving had stopped at,” Jesse said.

  “What exactly is that for?” Vivian asked before nudging Jesse with her elbow and pointing excitedly across the water. “Oh, good heavens, Jesselyn, look. Is that a lighthouse over there?”

  Jesse shielded her eyes with her hand and peered over the sparkling expanse of sea toward the nearest land mass. It rose up from of the horizon in a gentle, tapering slope that was fat and tall on one end and swooped down to the sea in a long, narrow spit on the other. The long, narrow spit was crowned with what did indeed look like a lighthouse with two small houses directly behind it.

  “I think so. If we had the nerve to come down here at night, we could see if it’s lit up.”

  “And that red ball?” Vivian asked again. “What does that do?”

  “It marks where a fisherman has dropped a trap, like a crab pot or something. It’s so he can find it again, and so that other boats don’t run over it and get tangled in the line.”

  “It would be little hard to get down to the water from here, wouldn’t it?”

  Jesse looked down toward the shoreline. The grass they stood on gave way to bare dirt that began a steep descent to solid rock and a sheer drop to the water’s edge. “It’s a beautiful view, but that shoreline looks pretty treacherous. I don’t think I’d want to get any closer.”

  “Wouldn’t want a guest toppling into the water and being washed away,” Vivian said as they turned, linked arms, and began a leisurely stroll back to the house. “Maybe we can address that before the inn opens for business. There’s such a glorious view from here, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it somehow.”

  “Well, at least we know there’s fishing just off shore, and fresh seafood for the meals,” Jesse added. “Next we have to make sure there’s a vegetable garden and some herbs planted. That’s something Celeste can help us with.”

  “You’re not thinking of staying, too, are you?”

  “It’s awfully tempting, but I couldn’t possibly. Although I can see why you offered to stay, as surprising as it was.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.” Vivian hugged Jesse’s arm. “I think Amanda had a really good idea with this place, and I think Fisher saw its potential as an inn when he recommended it to her. Once the others stop being so upset, I think they’ll be eager to join in.”

  “That all sounds wonderful, Viv, until you remember that unless there’s a stranger lurking somewhere, one of the five people living in that house is a murderer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The oversized door of solid mahogany squeaked as Jesse opened it to tiptoe in with Vivian right behind her. The meeting hadn’t started yet, but everyone else was inside and, thanks to the door, every head turned to watch their arrival.

  Directly across from the entrance, Fisher sat behind the ancient lawyer’s desk, his paperwork spread in front of him on the freshly polished leather top. Five armchairs faced the desk again today, and every occupant now stared at Jesse as she guided the door closed.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to follow Vivian to the leather sofa that sat empty. As Jesse’s gaze swept the room, the first eyes she met were Fisher’s. His brows raised, he peered over the top of his reading glasses, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed amusement.

  On the other side of Fisher, sitting at a right angle to the desk was Lawrence Hardy. His leather wingback was against the bookcase that lined one wall of the library. Looking out over the room, he appeared to be an observer and no more a part of the proceedings than Jesse and Vivian were.

  Immediately in front of Fisher’s desk and facing forward again, Treena and Celeste sat in the two chairs closest to Hardy. Bethany was next, in the middle chair, with Lady Jane Grey curled on a small pillow at her feet.

  Gordon was fourth in line between Bethany and Nettie. Still wearing her sturdy, khaki walking pants with a fresh sweater, Nettie sat in the chair closest to the sofa where Jesse and Vivian sat.

  Jesse arranged her notepad on her lap, flipped it open and sat poised with her pen. Vivian did the same. Bethany smiled and nodded to Jesse before turning back toward Fisher, who began to speak.

  “You’ve all had the terms of Amanda Carmichael’s bequest explained to you. If you still have questions of a technical or legal nature, Mr. Hardy is available to clear up any remaining confusion or misunderstanding. I am here to help you move forward on what we’re going to do and how we’re going to do it while following the guidelines that Amanda Oglethorpe Carmichael set down.”

  Fisher glanced up briefly, then lifted a paper from the desk and continued speaking. “In addition to the five of you who are present here, this bequest also includes Helen Oglethorpe, her daughter Trisha Oglethorpe, Bobby Don Carmichael, Amanda Maria Oglethorpe Landon, known as Mandy, and her son Frank Landon, Jr.”

  He paused as several of the listeners shifted restlessly in their seats.

  Jesse found herself eager to hear what came next. They might never know who killed Amanda, and they might never prove what happened even if they identified the killer. But, in the meantime, four of the five beneficiaries were innocent, and the rest of their lives were about to be laid out for them if they chose to accept Amanda’s proposal.

  When no one else spoke, Fisher went on, “This estate known as Drake’s Rest, and all of the property and possessions entailed as a part of the estate, which comprises a full half of the island it sits on, has been left to the five of you plus the five I just named, who aren’t present today, for the purpose of becoming a co-owned, equally shared enterprise, specifically an inn known as a bed and breakfast. As you know, the real property owned by Amanda Oglethorpe Carmichael in Waite County in the state of Oklahoma is to be sold, with all of the physical property belonging to that estate, and the proceeds used to finance the startup and first year operating costs of the bed and breakfast hereafter known as Drake’s Rest.”

  Fisher stopped again and glanced up from the paperwork in front of him.

  “Are you with me, so far?” he asked. “Do you all understand that this is what Amanda has left to you, for you all to share equally, and that no other part of her fortune or holdings has anything to do with this? Nod, mumble, or do something so that I know you understand.”

  There were nods all around, several mumbles and one feminine and one masculine “Yes.”

  Lady shifted position on her pillow and thumped her tail lightly against the oriental carpet that covered the wood plank flooring. Bethany reached down and scratched the little, russet-and-white dog behind her ears, which generated more tail thumps that only stopped when Fisher began to speak again and Bethany ceased the scratching.

  “No one is obligated to participate in this endeavor. However, this is Amanda’s bequest to you, and it is contingent upon participation. If you choose not to remain here at Drake’s Rest, you are free to go. You will receive a payment of two months’ salary, and other than that, you will leave with nothing but your own private possessions and the return air fare to Oklahoma. Do you have any questions?”

  “I still can’t believe that Amanda made no other arrangements for us,” Treena said to the room at large. “And why here of all places? Why not a bed and breakfast in Oklahoma?”

  “Oklahoma?” Nettie swiveled in her chair. “These are the San Juan Islands, you silly girl. You can watch whales from the shore here. Can you do that in Oklahoma?”

  “We have a lot of very successful bed and breakfasts in Oklahoma,” Treena ans
wered indignantly. “And it’s my home. And I want to go back.” Her last words descended into a whine. “I don’t like it here. And Brandon Carmichael was my father, and I deserve an inheritance!”

  Her tirade ended with a foot stomp and a flounce toward the squeaky library exit. Vivian rose and hurried to intercept her. Wrapping her arm around the protesting girl’s shoulder, Vivian whispered to her as she guided Treena back to the sofa to sit beside her.

  “Well,” Fisher said once order had been restored, “does anyone else have any questions or objections before we proceed?”

  Thankful for her excellent hearing, Jesse had only to lean slightly nearer to Vivian to hear her say, “…can’t change what happened in the past, dear. But this is the rest of your life you’re talking about. Think carefully before you throw it away.”

  Treena responded with a long, shuddering intake of breath that she let back out in a sob. Crumpling in defeat, she buried her face against Vivian’s shoulder and began to cry. Vivian looked toward Jesse, pointed toward the notepad with the hand that wasn’t patting the crying girl and mouth the words Brandon Carmichael.

  Jesse nodded and made the notation next to Treena’s name followed by a question mark.

  In the meantime, after everyone else had mumbled responses in the negative, Fisher asked, “Does this mean that everyone else has made the decision to stay here and accept a partnership in the new bed and breakfast?”

  “It means,” Celeste said, “that we don’t really have much choice, now do we? Once again, Amanda has arranged our lives to suit herself without consulting us. And once again, we can go along with what she has decided, or we can strike out on our own with nothing to show for all the years we put in living under her thumb.”

  “You’re a grown woman,” Nettie snapped. “You make your own choices. Anyone who’s not happy with their job is free to go get another one. And most people don’t confuse that with someone owing them a living.”