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

by Loulou Harrington

  “Bobby Don’s hair is a faded red,” Jesse pointed out. “He’s Brandon’s nephew, isn’t he? It must run in the family.”

  “Except Bobby Don has more of the florid complexion that sometimes goes with that hair color. Brandon, if I remember correctly, always had a tan, which is very unusual for a strawberry blond.”

  “Why do we care what color Brandon Carmichael’s hair was?” Fisher demanded. “What’s that got to do with Amanda?”

  Vivian released a long-suffering sigh. “Dear, if Brandon was the father of Helen Oglethorpe’s children, then there are two young women who might feel they deserve more than they are getting out of this deal.”

  “Oh.” Becoming thoughtful, he continued, “Okay, I get that. But just because Treena’s grandmother thinks it’s so, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “And for Amanda’s sake, I certainly hope it’s not true,” Vivian agreed. “That would have been a terrible betrayal to live with.”

  “The point is,” Jesse said, “it doesn’t really matter if it’s true. So long as someone thought it was true, it could have been a motive. Greed, revenge, disappointment, whatever—people have killed for less. And if it is true, does that mean Treena did it? No. It does not.”

  Fisher raked his fingers through his immaculate hair, rendering it attractively disarrayed. Jesse made a note to herself to find out who his hairdresser was. She needed her hair cut like that.

  “So, what does it mean?” he asked. “And how do you figure out who really did it? Because you’ve done that twice now, right?”

  “Well, sort of,” Jesse said. “Really, it’s more like people keep confessing to me.”

  “But you already knew who did it, right?”

  “Well, to a degree, although the first time kind of took me by surprise. Now the second time, yeah, I had figured that one out. But still, it was basically a guess.”

  “Which means we’re more or less just bumbling in the dark here,” Fisher said, “until someone, what? Walks up to us and starts spilling their guts?”

  Vivian reached over and patted his arm. “We prefer to think of it as perfecting our craft, dear. And I think Jesse’s just being modest. She’s gotten there one step ahead of the sheriff both times.”

  “Well, I bet he was tickled about that.” Fisher looked at Jesse and laughed. “Is that why you’re getting nervous about the local sheriff here?”

  “I have had some friction develop in the past,” she admitted. “But in this case, we seem to be the only ones who think there’s been a crime. And a confession is not going to mean very much if we’re the only ones around to hear it. We need proof, and I have no idea how we’re going to get it.”

  ~~~~~

  On her knees on the floor, Jesse pulled a stack of manila folders from the bottom desk drawer in front of her. “You find anything yet?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Pens, paper clips, staples, sticky notes.” Vivian’s answer was accompanied by the sound of rustling. Seated in the desk chair, she was inspecting the top drawer on the opposite side of the desk. “How about you?”

  “Folders.”

  Vivian glanced to the side and saw Jesse shuffling away from the desk on her knees. Her arms were full as she moved toward the window where light poured through the open drapes.

  “Anything in them?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  Settling cross-legged on the floor in a pool of sunlight, Jesse opened the first folder and found spreadsheets, neatly typed and printed on white copy paper and almost certainly part of a computer file. Without rising, she twisted as far around as she could in both directions and saw nothing resembling a desktop, a laptop, or even a tablet computer. Nothing but printouts. Page after page of mundane financial detail on…um…

  She lifted the first page and read the title identifying it as Household Expenses. Under that were column headings for food, light bulbs, cleaning products, electricity, phone, and on and on in excruciating detail, with one breakdown by month for the house in Oklahoma and another for Washington.

  Shuffling through the pages, the next was for salaries, by employee, by month, with notations for insurance, withholding, and interestingly, each employee seemed to have a portion put into a savings or investment account.

  There were extra notations for Trisha and Treena, possibly to do with money set aside for school. Bobby Don also had minus amounts next to his name rather than pluses, possibly some sort of loan against his salary that he was repaying, since the amount was consistently the same for each pay period.

  Jesse wasn’t an accountant and knew just enough to keep her own personal information straight. Her business accounts were turned over to a professional. What she was looking at was probably Amanda’s notes for her own information, with a professional in charge of keeping the real books.

  There were more pages for vehicles, for travel, and one page just for Lady Jane Grey’s food, grooming, vet, toys, vitamins and treats. Another separate page was for the gardens, again with one column for Oklahoma and one for Washington. Jesse flipped through the rest of the pages, checking the headings and saw nothing that seemed significant.

  “Interesting financial information on the various employees and upkeep on the estates,” Jesse said as she set the folder aside and opened the next one. “You can take a look at it later. Some of it might mean more to you than it does to me.”

  “You know, I was thinking.” Vivian closed the middle drawer and pulled open the one on the bottom. “Besides the fact that you obviously got the good side of the desk, I was thinking that I still wish we could stumble across some old photos. You know, from when the kids were young, when Brandon was still around, maybe when Mandy was still married.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to find any pictures of Mandy’s husband,” Jesse said. “Amanda only took in women who were alone and needing help. Although a photo of a younger Bobby Don might be interesting. Do you know if there was much of a resemblance between him and his uncle Brandon?”

  “His father wasn’t as successful as Brandon and didn’t run in the same circles. And Bobby Don would have been a child when I knew Brandon and Amanda. All the scandals came later. Ah-ha!” Vivian cried. “Thumb drives!”

  Jesse looked over her shoulder to see Vivian holding two USB flash drives aloft in triumph, a wide smile on her face.

  “What do you think?” Vivian asked. “Documents or pictures?”

  “Speaking of which…” Jesse looked around again. When they had entered, she noted that the desk top was empty except for a pen and a notepad. And there was no other desk in the room.

  “Have you seen a computer since we’ve been here?” she asked. “There wasn’t one in the library, was there? And there certainly isn’t one in here. If Amanda had thumb drives, Amanda must have had a computer.”

  “Well, I’ll be…” Vivian looked around. “You’re right. If the computer is actually missing, then someone took it. And if we find it…”

  “Or, that could have been the one thing that the police confiscated until they determine the cause of death,” Jesse said.

  “You and your logic, Jesselyn.” Vivian threw her hands in the air. “It’s enough to suck the oxygen right out of the room.”

  Jesse gathered the folders into her arms again and stood up. “Cheer up, Viv, and follow me. Fisher never goes anywhere without his laptop. Let’s go see what’s on those flash drives.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Heads together, Jesse and Vivian watched the screen close out yet another file that was exactly what its name implied—Water Garden. Ordinarily they would have been fascinated by landscaping designs for an Herb Garden, Meditation Garden, Perennial Garden, Rose Garden, Shade Garden, Native Garden and something called the Long Walk Garden.

  Despite their desire to explore every file on both flash drives as quickly as possible, they had lingered over the design for the Long Walk, which appeared to be a continuous ribbon of landscaping with a path that connected the m
ain house to all the outlying gardens. Benches, arbors, conversation and picnic areas scattered along its length provided stopping places between the main garden areas. The Long Walk ultimately ended at three different vantage points overlooking the sea.

  “We’ll hang onto this,” Jesse said as she ejected the first thumb drive, which appeared to be entirely garden related and not remotely incriminating to anyone.

  Vivian took it and handed the second one to Jesse, who inserted it into the USB port and set to work pulling up a list of files.

  Sitting side by side, they leaned against pillows lined along the carved mahogany headboard of Fisher’s bed. Vivian’s legs were tucked sideways under her, and her body twisted toward the screen open atop Jesse’s knees. A cashmere afghan padded the base of the laptop and spread down Jesse’s legs to cover her bare feet.

  Under the heading of Documents were several folders, but the one Jesse opened first was the folder labeled Will, and inside that was a single file named Bequest Rev.

  “Oh-h-h.” The word seeped out of Vivian with the softness of a breath at the same time Jesse hit the Open Page command.

  When the document opened, it contained a note addressed to Lawrence Hardy and was dated the same day Amanda had flown out of Oklahoma. It began with the explanation that after a lot of thought she had decided to amend the terms of her bequest. She had come to realize that to include Nettie Shoemacher in an equal share of the proposed bed and breakfast at Drake’s Rest wasn’t appropriate since Mrs. Shoemacher had only been in her employ for a short time and the other beneficiaries had been an important part of Amanda’s life for many years, some since childhood. She further stated that a signed and notarized revision to her Bequest was included.

  The next page was the Bequest itself, which Jesse and Vivian hurriedly scanned.

  “The only change I see is that Nettie’s name is left off the list of co-owners in the bed and breakfast,” Vivian said. “The rest of that sounds exactly like what we heard this morning.”

  “Look! Down here.” Jesse scrolled down further and pointed to the last paragraph before the signature line and date. It read: “As for Nettie Shoemacher, she will continue in her role as head housekeeper of Drake’s Rest at her current salary and benefits. Should she decide to leave, she will be given two months’ severance with my grateful thanks for her loyal service.”

  “My stars!” Vivian said. “If Amanda actually mailed a notarized copy of that, it’s going to be waiting for Mr. Hardy when he gets back to his office. And Nettie… oh, my heavens, she will be devastated!”

  “Well,” Jesse pointed out, “I’m sure Amanda wasn’t planning to die almost as soon as she wrote that.”

  “What if she didn’t mail it? This would be an expression of intent, but it wouldn’t be legally binding, would it?”

  Jesse shrugged. “You know a lot more about these things than I do. But…” She scrolled back up and found what she was looking for—an electronic signature and date on both pages. “See? That’s the real question. Is an electronic signature legally binding? You don’t suppose…”

  “What are you doing?” Vivian asked when Jesse closed out the document and the folder.

  “Looking to see if she might have gotten it notarized and scanned it back in.”

  The sound of the door opening jerked their attention from the computer screen in time to see Fisher enter and come to a dead halt in the doorway. He stood there blinking at them as if they were apparitions who would disappear if he concentrated hard enough. When they didn’t, he stepped farther into the room and kicked the door closed behind him.

  He glanced toward his empty desk and back to the laptop Jesse was holding. “Looking for porn?”

  “No.” Vivian proudly brandished the flash drive they had already looked at. “We found two thumb drives in Amanda’s office desk.” She pointed toward the laptop. “Wait till you see what’s on this one!”

  “And I suppose that mine was the only computer available?” He walked over to the bed.

  “Well, yes, actually it was,” Jesse said. “Plus we needed someplace private.”

  She and Vivian scooted over to make room for him, and Fisher kicked off his shoes and climbed in next to Jesse. While she returned the screen to the letter and its attachment, Fisher slipped his feet under the cashmere throw to snuggle next to Jesse’s.

  “This better be good,” he warned.

  “If it stands up in court, it’s huge,” Jesse assured him. When the document reappeared on the laptop, she turned the screen toward him. “Read this.”

  “She cut Nettie out of the bequest,” Vivian said before he could read for himself. “I actually thought her reason was very acceptable, but it’s unfortunate that Nettie heard the first version and is looking forward to being a property owner. If the revised version holds up in court, it’s going to be pretty uncomfortable around here.”

  “There.” Jesse pointed to the letter. “She says she’s getting it notarized and mailing it off, but we don’t know if she actually did that before she got here.”

  “Or if she might not have changed her mind completely,” Vivian said. “I’m beginning to realize that Amanda had a much softer heart than I ever gave her credit for.”

  “Good God!” Fisher stared intently at the second page that was the actual revised bequest. Then, shoving the laptop back into Jesse’s hands, he kicked off the afghan and shoved his feet into his shoes. “I’ve got to stop Lawrence before he gets away.”

  “Bring him back here if you catch him,” Jesse called as Fisher disappeared out the door. “Meanwhile, I’ll be looking to see if I find anything else.”

  The only reply was Fisher’s hurried footsteps down the corridor.

  “Well, poo,” Vivian said. “He didn’t shut the door behind him.”

  “Don’t worry about that. This way we can hear him when he comes back up the stairs. Now let’s see what else is on here.”

  Jesse touched the screen over a folder named Thoughts. It opened to reveal one document entitled Cece.

  “Not a lot of thoughts, I guess.” Vivian’s murmured remark was as close as she usually got to a whisper.

  Silently, Jesse began to read, her heartbeat increasing as she went. When she was through, she read it again more slowly.

  It’s so easy to go through life thinking that no one really cares, and that nothing you do really matters because no one is paying attention. To learn that I’ve been wrong all these years was quite a shock. I never meant to hurt you, my dear, by seeming callous. And it breaks my heart that you felt driven to such drastic lengths to get my attention. You always had it. I just never told you. Because of you, I’m rethinking a lot of things, and there will be changes, I promise you. I have forgiven you and I hope that you will forgive me. And tomorrow we will start over, learning to trust each other again.

  “My goodness,” Vivian said softly. “What in the world is that about, do you suppose?”

  Jesse shook her head. “Not a clue. Is Cece a person? A place? Or maybe a nickname. I guess we can assume that Amanda wrote it. As for the rest, I have no idea. I wonder if Bethany knows who this Cece might be?”

  “We can add that to the long list of things to ask Bethany about.” Vivian pointed to the middle of the note on the screen. “I want to know what drastic lengths she’s talking about here.” Her finger moved lower. “And here, this forgiveness stuff. And trust. That sounds like it could have been an argument, maybe a serious one. What if they had another argument once they got here, and Amanda ended up dead on the staircase?”

  “We need to find Cece,” Jesse said. “Or at least what it’s the name of.”

  Interrupted by the sound of footsteps, she stopped to listen. Heavy treads echoed through the vaulted entryway and across the open foyer. Pounding up the staircase, the stomping feet grew louder, separating into two distinct sets as they neared.

  Fisher’s voice emerged from the clamor. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “It better…be
good.” Lawrence Hardy’s warning came out as a breathless pant. “I…” Whatever he was going to say next died in a heaving gasp for breath.

  Heavy breathing and slowing footsteps were all Jesse could hear until Fisher came through the door followed by Mr. Hardy. At the sight of the sweat beads popping out on Hardy’s red face, Jesse and Vivian hastily rearranged themselves to make room for him on the edge of the bed.

  Jesse closed out the file named Cece and retrieved the one containing the bequest revision. When it was open, she handed the laptop to the attorney.

  “Just read it,” she urged.

  Fisher closed the door behind him and rested his weight against it. They all waited in silence as Hardy read. His breathing slowed, and his eyes widened as he progressed through the two pages.

  “Good God Almighty,” he said when he was done.

  Then he held up a finger to forestall any comments and read the whole thing all the way through again. Scowling, he looked up when he was done, his gaze going from Fisher to the two women who sat in the middle of the bed with their legs tucked under them watching him expectantly.

  “When did you find this?” he demanded.

  “While Fisher was at lunch with you,” Jesse answered. “We showed it to him when he got back, and he went running off to find you. It says that she mailed a notarized copy to your office before she flew out earlier this week. I don’t suppose your office has received anything like that, has it?”

  “I haven’t talked to them today. But if Amanda mailed it from Myrtle Grove, it would take several days to make it to Oklahoma City. If she mailed it from Tulsa before her plane took off, it could have gotten there yesterday.”

  He handed the laptop back to Jesse and stood. “If you will excuse me, I think I’ll step out into the hallway and call my secretary. It would seem that this latest version of her bequest is one that Amanda gave a lot of thought to and was what she truly wanted. It won’t be pleasant to deliver the news, but I will do my best to see that Amanda’s last and final wish is carried out.”