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

by Loulou Harrington

  Treena’s frown deepened. “No. Why?”

  “Nothing?” Jesse asked. “Nettie didn’t open any drawers? Pick up anything and look at it?”

  “No. Well, yeah. But all she did was tug on the roll top on her desk. It was locked, and she didn’t open it or anything. She just kind of smiled and finished her sherry, and then we left.”

  “I think we need to have a look in Nettie’s room,” Vivian said, nudging Jesse with her elbow. “Although why she would still have anything incriminating there is beyond me. All she would have to do is walk to the edge of a cliff and throw it into the sea, and no one would ever find it.”

  “And yet, I’d be willing to wager that just a few hours ago, there was something locked in her desk that she didn’t want anyone to see.” Jesse looked down to where Treena sat still slumped next to the toilet. “Do you need a hand up? Do you want to come with us, or just go back to bed?”

  “I’ll stay here awhile longer. My head feels like it’s going to split in two, and my stomach’s still rolling.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “What are my choices?” the girl asked. Without looking up, she waved them on.

  “I’ll check back in a few minutes,” Celeste promised as she filed back out of the crowded bathroom behind Jesse and Vivian.

  At the end of the hallway, they opened the door and entered the sunny, cheerful sanctum of Nettie Shoemacher.

  “Why would she not lock her door?” Vivian asked.

  “Because we all have keys that open every door,” Celeste answered with a shrug. “We’re all considered staff when we’re here. I could always tell that was hard on her. When we were gone, Mrs. Shoemacher had the house to herself. When we arrived, she was just hired help like everyone else. She tried to hide it, but I could always feel her resentment.”

  Jesse looked around and was surprised by the buttercup yellow and creamy white that were the predominant colors of the tidy and spacious suite. The four poster bed filled an alcove opposite the door. The bed’s patchwork quilt added pastel splashes of pink, blue, and green to the yellow and white of the room. An oversized chair and ottoman faced an armoire that probably held a television. A large dormer window contained a rolltop desk and a dainty chair covered in a yellow-and-white checkered pattern to match the larger chair and ottoman.

  “Do you realize where we are?” Jesse asked, turning to Vivian.

  “In a room completely at odds with the crazy lady tied up downstairs? But that’s not what you meant, is it?” Vivian looked around, studying the room. “Okay, let’s see. We’re at the end of the corridor, which would make this room directly above Amanda’s. And if Amanda’s bedroom opens into the hidden stairwell, that would mean this one might as well. Is that it?”

  Jesse nodded. “And it would give Nettie access to Amanda’s bedroom and Bethany’s room without anyone ever seeing her leave her own room.”

  “So, why didn’t she just sneak down and smother Amanda while she slept? No one would ever know,” Vivian said.

  “Oh, oh.” Celeste raised her hand, caught up in the excitement of actually having an answer. “I know that one. Lady slept on the foot of Amanda’s bed every night. Bethany had Lady for most of the day, but Lady went back to Amanda every evening.”

  “But then how could anyone attack Amanda on the staircase without the dog waking everyone in the house?” Vivian demanded.

  “If it happened quickly enough that Amanda didn’t have a chance to react, then maybe Lady didn’t either.” Talking as she went, Jesse crossed the room toward the desk that was tucked into the dormer. “And after Amanda was injured, maybe the dog’s focus was on her.”

  At the desk, Jesse lifted up on the top that slid up into the back of the desk. It didn’t budge. Opening the middle drawer, she sifted through the contents and quickly moved on to the two smaller side drawers. “Do you know where Nettie keeps the key to this?” she asked without looking up.

  “No,” Celeste answered. “She never invited people in here.”

  “Try this,” Vivian called.

  Jesse turned to see Vivian leaving the nightstand next to the bed, brandishing a small key in her hand. The old fashioned key fit smoothly into the lock and gave a small clicking sound as it turned. The other two women crowded closer, with Vivian peeking over Jesse’s shoulder and Celeste peering around Vivian.

  “Here goes.” Holding her breath, Jesse gave a tug, and the top slid upward an inch and caught.

  Celeste laughed nervously. “My heart’s pounding, and I can’t imagine why. The chances are nil that we’re going to find anything.”

  Jesse tugged again, and the top flew the rest of the way up, revealing a battered pink laptop with rust-colored smears across its top. She stared at it while shock seeped in around the edges of her sluggish brain.

  “Oh, dear heavens!” Vivian recoiled an instinctive step backward and collided with Celeste, who gave a small whimper and fell over backwards.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  At the sound of a thump, Jesse turned to look behind her and saw the top half of Celeste sprawled on her back, unmoving. “How hard did you hit her?”

  “I barely bumped her.” Vivian twisted to stare down at the girl stretched out behind her. “Some people faint at the drop of a hat. I think she might be one of those.” Vivian leaned in to study her closer. “Seems peaceful enough.”

  With a nod, Jesse turned back to her examination of the desktop where the fringed edge of a kitchen towel peeked out from under the laptop computer. From the front left corner of its pink shell, a crack radiated like a spider web across the top. The reddish brown streaks on its cover, Jesse realized with closer inspection, were almost surely blood.

  On the opposite, rear right corner, the imprint of four fingers and part of a palm curved over the edge, a hand print stamped in the same rusty-red stain. Jesse was pretty sure there would be a thumbprint and the rest of the palm on the backside, also in blood.

  “I guess we know what she hit Amanda with,” Vivian said. “But why on earth would Nettie have kept that?”

  “Maybe there was something on there she wanted to retrieve. Or maybe she just didn’t feel safe trying to sneak it out.” Jesse looked down to where Celeste still hadn’t moved. “Do you suppose she’s okay?”

  Vivian glanced behind her. “Her eyelids fluttered a few seconds ago. I think she’s coming around. Do you suppose anyone has called the police yet? I think we have enough evidence by now to prove that we’re not dealing with an accidental death.”

  “Death by temper tantrum.” Jesse shook her head in disgust. “Have you noticed that when we finally figure this stuff out, it always seems like such a trivial reason for one person to have killed another?”

  “Because usually it is,” Vivian agreed. “Greed, selfishness—or, in this case, someone trying to hold onto something that was never hers in the first place. All of them are stupid reasons for someone to die. There’s no justification for it, but maybe now there will be justice, at least for Amanda.”

  “Surely one of those fingerprints will be a match to Nettie.” Jesse looked again at the four prints on the front of the laptop, at least one of which looked very crisp. Reassured, she exhaled a sigh. “Is it selfish of me to want to go home and put this behind me?”

  “Of course not,” Vivian said quietly. She hooked a finger under Jesse’s chin and tipped her head up to stare into her eyes. “Do you need a hug, sugar?”

  Jesse smiled. “No, but thanks. Maybe later tonight we can share some more of that wine. Maybe say a little goodbye to Amanda.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. I’m really glad we did this, Jesselyn. Thank you for helping me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Viv. You know we did this together. And are you still planning to stay here and help out for a while?”

  A small grin peeked out from behind Vivian’s somber expression. “You mean now that we’ve discovered secret passages in the walls and maybe a ghost or two?”

  “Net
tie didn’t actually say there was a ghost,” Jesse pointed out.

  “But you know that’s what she meant. Probably the gnarly old sea captain who built this place.” Vivian’s smile widened. “You couldn’t get me out of here with a stick of dynamite right now. Besides, they’re going to need me.”

  Celeste moaned and rolled halfway onto her back. A second movement near the doorway caught Jesse’s eye, and she looked up to see Treena clinging to the door jam. Her wild red hair stood straight out in places, and her skin had turned a blotchy pink and white.

  “I think I hear voices downstairs,” she said. Her gaze dropped down to Celeste. “What happened to her?”

  “Fainted,” Vivian explained.

  Treena nodded. “Yeah, she does that. Especially if she forgets to eat.”

  Celeste moaned again and slowly pushed herself up until she was leaning back on her outstretched arms. Her head still dangled with her eyes closed.

  “Looks like she’s coming around,” Vivian added.

  Jesse turned her body to block anyone else’s view of the battered and bloody laptop. “Do you feel okay to walk downstairs?” she asked Treena, who responded with a shake of her head.

  “I think I’m going back to bed for a while if it’s all the same to everyone else. I want to be well enough to leave here in the morning.”

  “The police may want to talk to you again,” Jesse warned. “And they may want to establish what Nettie used to drug you.”

  “I have no idea what she used. And I intend to be packed and ready to go when Mr. Hardy leaves here.”

  “If they get a blood sample from you,” Vivian said, “it should tell them everything they need to know.”

  Treena’s pink splotches had faded, leaving her face a bloodless white. “I’ve got to go to bed before I throw up again.” Crossing one hand over the other, she pivoted in the doorway and disappeared back into the hall.

  “Was that really Amanda’s pink laptop on Nettie’s desk?” came a weak voice from a few feet off the floor. “Or was I dreaming?”

  “You recognized Amanda’s computer?” Jesse asked.

  “Oh, Lord, I wasn’t dreaming.” Celeste’s voice was a woozy whisper.

  “Don’t pass out,” Jesse ordered.

  “I think I need to eat something.”

  “Treena thought she heard voices arriving,” Vivian said encouragingly. “Don’t you want to go see who it is?”

  “I’d kill for a bologna sandwich.” Celeste struggled into an upright, seated position. Eyes open, she looked around. “Where’s Treena?”

  “She went back to bed,” Jesse answered. “She still plans to leave tomorrow, and I got the impression she doesn’t much care what happens around here at this point.”

  “That sounds like Treena.” Celeste twisted around and shoved herself up onto her hands and knees.

  “We can help you, dear,” Vivian offered.

  “That’s okay.” Celeste slowly rose to her feet. “It’s time I got back to normal and stopped doing silly things like fainting. But just in case, let’s get out of here before I catch another glimpse of that laptop.”

  Jesse closed the desk’s roll top, locked it and pocketed the key. Silly as it seemed, she was looking forward to one more time through the secret passageway.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Vivian pulled back the curtain in Bethany’s bedroom and peered out the window. “Good heavens, it looks like an army’s arrived.”

  “You see any police?” Without waiting for an answer, Jesse joined her at the window and looked down on a bevy of heads and shoulders, which were all she could see from her vantage point. None of them appeared to be wearing uniforms, but even from above she could spot Fisher among the group. “Looks like the boys are back.”

  Vivian pointed to one of the milling figures. “I’m almost positive that’s Bobby Don’s hair. And look! If that’s Fisher, Gordon and Hardy, then I only see three other people.”

  “Oh, there’s Bethany,” Jesse said. “I guess she heard them and went down.”

  One of the men broke away from the group and wrapped his arms around Bethany, who still held Lady tucked against her shoulder.

  “And that would be Gordon,” Vivian said.

  “You’d think that dog didn’t have feet the way she carries it around.” Celeste leaned closer to the window. “Yeah, that’s Helen and Trisha, for sure. And Bobby Don. I don’t see Frankie or my mother.”

  Jesse turned, drawn by the faint edge of distress in Celeste’s voice. Nothing the younger woman had said indicated a great affection for her mother, and yet she seemed upset.

  “Is it possible they didn’t come?” Jesse asked.

  “I don’t know.” Celeste let the drapery drop and stepped back. Sadness dulled her eyes. “Mom doesn’t much like to travel. And Frankie’s always been a homebody.”

  Vivian left the window and joined the conversation. “If your mother and brother don’t want to leave Oklahoma, do you think you’ll stay here or go back?”

  “I would miss Frankie. I might even miss my mother, but I’ve only hung around home this long because of Amanda. When she and I had our last talk, she hinted that she wanted to give everyone a fresh start. And now that I see what she planned, I won’t turn my back on that.”

  “I think that’s a very wise choice, dear.” Vivian slipped an arm around Celeste’s waist. “I suppose we should go down and join everyone. Maybe we can get the new arrivals settled before the police get here and stir everything up again.”

  “I suppose Fisher’s going to want to have another meeting with everyone before Mr. Hardy leaves,” Jesse said.

  She could feel her mind closing doors on what had happened here and readying itself to move on. There were only a few questions that still bothered her, a few things she still needed to hear Nettie say. Then Jesse could put all this behind her and go home to Myrtle Grove. She didn’t know when she had been so homesick. She was even looking forward to an evening alone with Joe Tyler. What she wasn’t looking forward to was calling him to say that she would never make it back by Saturday evening.

  Vivian paused with her hand on the bedroom doorknob. “Are you okay, Jesselyn? Have you thought of something?”

  “No.” Jesse caught up with them and closed the door behind her. Halfway down the hall Nettie sat watching them from the corner of her eye, looking from them to the main staircase and back. The chair Bethany had been sitting in was against the wall a few feet away.

  “Why don’t you two go on?” Jesse suggested. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “You have thought of something,” Vivian said with the pleased air of someone who had been proven right. “We’ll see you downstairs then. Just give a shout if you need us.”

  The other two walked on. Jesse pulled the dainty vanity chair closer to Nettie and sat down facing her. The apple-cheeked woman with white hair and bright, button eyes, glared back. Silence stretched while Jesse tried to put her finger on exactly what was bothering her, besides the thought of Mrs. Claus being a murderer.

  They had all the proof they needed. Of the embezzling, and Amanda’s awareness. Of the attack on the staircase, and the broken and blood-stained laptop. The why didn’t really matter, not to anyone else, and Jesse needed to learn to let things like that go. Murders were never going to make sense.

  “What do you want?” Nettie snapped. “Why are you just sitting there staring at me?”

  Surprised out of her reverie, Jesse blinked and refocused on the woman bound to the chair across from her. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t expect me to talk to you, sitting here trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Because I’m not talking to anybody who’s treated me the way you have.”

  Jesse shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I just need to accept that some things don’t have a reason. At least not one that’s good enough.”

  “You’re trying my patience, girl. Say what you have to say or leave me in peace.”
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br />   Looking at the woman, all Jesse could see was wasted lives built on broken dreams and disappointment. “Once Amanda was gone…” Jesse stopped and corrected herself. “Once you killed her. I suppose you were hoping to continue on as housekeeper for as long as you could?”

  “Sure.” Nettie shrugged one shoulder, all the movement she could manage while trussed to the chair. “Why not? I’ve always done my job. Nobody can say I haven’t. One way or another, this house has always belonged to me.”

  Regretting her own bulldog tendencies, Jesse told herself to walk away. Instead, she heard herself saying, “So, I guess when you heard the terms of the will, you must have been pretty happy.”

  “Well, it did look like I had landed on my feet.” One side of Nettie’s mouth quirked in what looked like a sneer. “Wasn’t too happy about all the other people she included. But, then, life up here can be dangerous. From the original owner to now, quite a few have died unexpectedly. So who knew what the future held.”

  “Uh….” Jesse’s mouth dropped open, but no words formed.

  Had the woman just confessed to plotting the murder of every other heir? Or had she simply expressed her faith in the Russian roulette of life, and its tendency to tilt in her favor? Suppressing a shiver, Jesse took a deep breath.

  “Uh… so.… You, uh…” Jesse shook herself mentally and felt the rising urge to wipe that smug satisfaction off the other woman’s face. “You must have been very disappointed, then, to overhear Lawrence Hardy’s conversation with his secretary. Were you aware, from what he said, that Amanda had amended her will before she left Oklahoma? That you had been excluded from inheriting any part of this estate or the inn?”

  Nettie went stiff and drew in a long, slow breath that looked like she was winding up for a scream. Her face turned red, and her eyes went as dark and flat as the eyes of a dead fish.

  “Very well, then, I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ And I’m so happy to be the one who brought you that information.” Jesse rose from her chair, preparing to take her leave.