He certainly didn’t look good through the one-way mirror. He was wrapped in blankets. I fixed some mugs of hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup and took them into the dining room. His face was gaunt and covered with stubble. “Thanks.”
The interrogation was just beginning when I returned to the kitchen. The four officers had specific posts— DeWayne at the door, Paul and Deputy Shannon, the striking Halle Berry double, standing in front of Kevin, and Shannon’s partner, Joe Josephson, at the window. I knew the Sheriff’s Department had jurisdiction, but I was glad to see they were giving Paul deference by including him.
Liz pulled up a stool and joined me in front of the glass, and we watched the next reality show. “Don’t they need the big light shining in his face? They’re asking the same questions they asked everyone else. It needs to be more exciting.”
“Do you want another brawl?”
“That was pretty exciting, all right. I thought Martha was going to rip BJ’s head right off.” Liz took a sip of Pepsi.
“Don’t let Grandma catch you drinking demon caffeine.”
Liz shrugged. “I picked up a few pointers during the brawl. Don’t you worry about me. I could take Grandma, Vicki.”
I laughed. “I bet you could. Unless she’s packing heat.”
“Besides, she’s the biggest Pepsi drinker of us all.” Liz turned up the volume. “Shh. Listen.”
Kevin became animated. “I would never hurt Bobbi Jo. I only want to take care of her and make her happy.”
“There’s the motive, right there.” Liz pointed at Kevin, but didn’t touch the glass. “The sap would take her back in an instant.”
Deputy Shannon asked, “Sir, have you spoken with your wife?”
“No. I tried to get inside to talk with her,” he admitted, “but I couldn’t. The windows were all locked.”
“Well, except for the one on the second floor,” I said.
“Have you ever hit your wife?” Shannon’s words were so nonchalant, as if she were asking if Kevin ever ate Oreo cookies.
“And have my daddy come back and haunt me? I don’t hit no women. No, ma’am. Don’t even think it.”
“Then why did she leave?” Paul’s turn again.
Kevin shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know. I thought we was happy. We never had as much money as she’d like. But who does?”
“Ain’t that the truth?” I said.
“Gene’s rich.” Liz shrugged. “Sometimes money isn’t as great as it seems.”
“Only a person with money can say something that stupid.”
“It’s true. Now shush. I want to hear him.” Liz harrumphed. “Some detective you are, always talking.”
“She likes nice things.” Kevin sounded a little whiney. “I bought her stuff. The new DVD player she wanted. A bright red Camaro. I’m still paying for that.” Kevin slumped back. “I make good money doing electrical work, but I couldn’t keep up.”
I felt a twinge of sympathy for this poor man who just wanted his wife back home.
Lt. Josephson asked, “How long ago did she leave you?”
“Right before Valentine’s Day. She took our Cece, our daughter, to first grade one day, and was gone by afternoon. It just ain’t fair to break a kid’s heart like that. Ain’t right.”
Paul exchanged a glance with Mary Beth Shannon. “Did you kill Calabria?”
“No, man. I mean, I wanted him dead. I won’t deny that. You would too if he up and stole your wife. But I didn’t do it.”
She nodded, and Paul asked, “Did you cut the phone line?”
“Why would I do that?” Even I could tell Kevin was lying.
“If it wasn’t you,” Shannon said, “then who cut it?”
“Could be anyone.” Again, it was obvious he was lying.
“Not too bright, is he?” Liz commented.
“Or he’s bright enough to play dumb. Now you shush.”
Shannon nodded. “Who do you think murdered Mr. Calabria?”
“I don’t know these people. Never met them before. Could be any of them.”
“What in the crap?” A woman’s voice from behind startled us so much, we nearly fell off the stools. Liz and I turned to see Alexis, her eyes narrowed. We didn’t hear her come in. She pointed at the glass, her face indignant. “You mean to tell me you’ve been spying on us the whole time we’ve been here?”
As Liz jumped and turned down the sound from the dining room, I looked into the blazing eyes of my guest. Oh, crap.
Alexis’s face was pale, but her eyes were dark with anger. “When we thought we were alone in the dining room, you could hear and see everything that happened?”
“No, no. We usually only turn on the microphone during the performances so the actors know when to go in. This is the first time we’ve used it for—”
“Spying,” Alexis finished.
Anxious to pacify my guest, I rambled on. “And we used it so I’d know when to serve the courses.”
“Well, it really sucks. You know that, don’t you?” Alexis winced and put her hand to her eyes. She stared through the glass as Kevin continued to proclaim his innocence.
Liz came to my defense. “We’re not eavesdropping on guests. A murder has been committed.”
Alexis turned back to face us, still angry. “You think that’s a good excuse? It’s just a crummy rationalization.”
“He’s the murderer,” Liz reminded her, speaking softly.
Alexis turned back and frowned. “I can’t hear it.”
Liz turned it back up, and the three of us listened for only a moment before Alexis put her hand up to her head and groaned.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I need a glass of water to take some medicine.”
As I obliged her, I knew it wasn’t Grandma’s medicine, because I removed that.
She popped a pill into her mouth and washed it down. She was incredibly pale again. Liz pointed Alexis toward a chair. “Sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Alexis slumped into it. “I never want to set foot in Silver City again. Or Utah, for that matter.”
“Oh, I know what you mean.” Liz patted Alexis’s shoulder. “I feel exactly the same way about Wisconsin.”
Wisconsin? When had she ever been to Wisconsin?
Alexis squinted. “I need you to tell your brother something before I forget again.”
I turned down the sound from the dining room again.
“After Kevin cut me and knocked me down, I couldn’t move for a few moments. I was there watching everyone run inside and out. I went upstairs and then I remembered your grandmother offered to give me her medication, so I started to come back down the stairs, only that’s when the lights went out. So I stood on the stairs, clutching the banister, hoping the power would go back on. I heard you call out, Vicki, but I was in too much pain to answer.”
I remembered my panicky moment in the darkened foyer well.
“That’s when I heard raised voices. Understandable, with everything that had gone on already. But it was disturbing.”
I murmured understanding sounds to keep her talking. Maybe she could identify the two voices. A flash of hope flared through me.
“I heard Gregorio and BJ. Gregorio told BJ their engagement was off. BJ told him she’d end her marriage with that man,” she said, pointing at Kevin again through the glass. “Then I heard a slap, and BJ ran out, crying. I figured they’d kiss and make up.”
She rubbed her eyes. “But with Gregorio dead, the authorities probably ought to know. Maybe some people had more of a motive to kill Gregorio than your brother realizes.”
Meaning BJ, of course. “I’ll tell him as soon as he comes out,” I assured her. “Can we help you to your room?”
Liz said, “Perhaps we should have Dr. Ray look at you.”
“I just need to sleep it off. Thanks.” Alexis stood on shaky legs, but wouldn’t let us help her. We followed her into the foyer and watched as she climbed the stairs.
Stephanie passed her coming down, Lonny right behind her. Stephanie waved. “Hey, Vicki, Liz. We’ve had it with your Inn and we’re going home. Can we borrow the snowmobile keys?”
I laughed. “Martin can’t stand to be without his sweetheart?”
“Poor baby? Does he need some loving?” Liz grinned.
“Liz!” I said. “You are very naughty.”
“It’s a fact of life, Vicki. Get over it.” She looked at me. “And I’m only a little naughty. Not, say, like Georgia.”
Georgia was our wild sister, the black sheep of the family who worked as a nurse at the hospital during the day, and ran wild at night. Last I heard, she was dating a biker.
Lonny smiled broadly, as if to announce he, too, could use some loving. Just visit Martha, I thought. She’ll take care of you. “Where’s Xavier? Is he going down with you?”
“No.” Lonny shook his head. “His roommates told him the snow caved in their apartment roof. They’re all camping out with friends and family. It’s okay if he stays, isn’t it?”
As long as it wasn’t in Martha’s room. I nodded. “What do you guys know about him? Other than he’s an actor, I mean?”
“He’s pretty much a loner,” Lonny said. “But he’s cool as a cucumber on stage.”
“How about off stage? Does he get stage fright often?” Lonny shook his head. “Xavier never gets stage fright. He’s always so cool, it seems like he doesn’t care. But he does.”
“But he was nervous here, rolling up his script.”
“He was sick,” Stephanie reminded me, “and I talked him out of it, remember?”
Lonny smiled at me gently. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
They’d only been gone a few minutes when a scream reverberated throughout the Inn. The sound came from upstairs. A woman.
My heart raced. The last time I heard a scream, I found a body.
We ran up the stairs, like a herd of lemmings. When the scream came again, we traced it to the Jessica Fletcher room. Alexis’s room.
Martha and Garrett came out of their rooms, Garrett buttoning his shirt and Martha looking as though she were napping.
Inside her suite, Alexis stood sobbing against the wall, staring at her bed. I didn’t want to, but I looked, too. It was neatly made. I should have known, as I made it neatly myself.
But I didn’t leave a large, green-handled knife, pinning a note to the pillow.
Kevin’s knife was back.
Chapter Twenty
The deputies photographed, inspected, and confiscated the knife, pillowcase and pillow, and then, surprisingly, spent some time tossing Alexis’s room. Did that mean they thought the murderer left something else behind?
Martha put her arms around Alexis, who melted into the older woman’s embrace. Apparently, whatever problems there were between them before disappeared in this crisis. Xavier offered to stay with them.
The authors, clearly shaken, convened in the parlor, where the talk revolved around the knife and why Kevin would put it there. Again, the discussion of motivation. The authors agreed this pretty much put to rest Garrett’s theory of a psychopathic drifter lurking in the mountains. But, for once, most of them agreed that Kevin and his knife appearing at the same time seemed overly coincidental.
It could only have been Kevin, who was now in the dining room with the deputies.
But the authors continued to propose all sorts of theories, each wilder than the one before.
Bonnie wondered if someone else could have stuck the knife in the pillow? But who? And why?
Dr. Ray wondered if perhaps Alexis knew something— perhaps something even she didn’t realize she knew— and the killer intended for this stunt to scare her into silence? Did she even realize what she wasn’t supposed to say? Or had she already said it when she told me about BJ’s conversation in the library?
But my thoughts returned to Kevin. He was the one who ran from the library, carrying the knife, and he cut Alexis before. Though he adamantly denied cutting the phone lines, it was painfully obvious he lied about it. And he used the same knife on Calabria as well as Lonny. It was the only explanation that made any sense.
That meant BJ was no longer a suspect, either. Unless… the thought suddenly occurred to me that perhaps BJ was in on it with Kevin. But why? What could she gain by Calabria’s death? I remembered her displays of grief and love for Calabria in the arboretum.
I left and went to the basement to make sure Zach was safe and give him a hug. Clark Harmon and Grandma volunteered earlier to play cards with him, and they were seated at the corner café table.
“Thanks,” I told them.
“Not a problem,” Clark answered.
Zach laid his cards down. “I’m out.”
“Now that’s a problem.” Clark frowned and shook his head in mock frustration. “Come on, kid. Gimme a break here.”
Zach laughed. My baby was being well taken care of.
“What’d Kevin say?” I asked Paul as soon as he came down from Kevin’s room.
Paul motioned for us to go into the library, away from the guests. First, he shut the door and led us over by the window seat, in case anyone came in from the direction of the arboretum; then he lowered his voice and told us. “He gave a lame story about trying to get in the house yesterday. He said he climbed the outside staircase and tried to pry the window up with his knife. Then a horrible-looking woman jumped at the window, startling him, and he dropped the knife and fell down the roof into the snow.”
I sat in my window seat. “Wow. He ought to write fiction.”
“Vicki, I’ve told you to wear makeup when you jump out at men.”
“So not funny, Liz,” I replied. “Hey, wait, Clark said something about a man dropping at his feet when he first arrived here. Maybe his story is true.”
Paul shook his head. “The deputies want to take him to town now, but he begged me to let him talk with Bobbi Jo. He pretended to be shocked at the news of Calabria’s death, and said he needs to comfort her. I think he’s hoping she’ll come home with him. Though where he’s going, there won’t be any conjugal visitation.”
“Why don’t you let him talk with her?” Liz asked, excitedly. “If she sweet-talks him, maybe she can extract some info. And I can make sure whatever you do will be admissible in court.”
“Perhaps.” Paul glanced toward the arboretum and lowered his voice even more. “I just learned the details of Calabria’s will. He left a generous bequest to a writing organization, ten thousand to some employees, and millions to his two children.”
“And?” I asked as his voice let me know there was more.
“One other person will also be very wealthy.”
“And that person just gained a motive,” Liz said. “Who?”
“BJ Killian, also known as BJ Higgins. He left her three million smackeroos.”
“Wow,” I said. “So she could be in on it with Kevin. Did the note on the pillow offer any clues?”
A slow smile indicated he wasn’t going to tell us that. He stood up tall and straightened his duty belt as he switched from brother to cop. “Vicki, take cookies in to the guests so you can listen in on what’s being said. Liz, come help me convince BJ to talk with her husband.”
* * *
I tried not to groan when I carried the tray of cookies into the parlor and found Grandma sitting beside Dr. Ray. For a seventy-eight-year-old woman, she sure got around. It’s eight o’clock— do you know where your grandmother is?
I set the cookies on the table at the center of the main seating arrangement. They were wrapped in pretty pink cellophane and tied with raffia. The female guests didn’t waste any time digging in.
Garrett spoke harshly. “When do we get to leave?”
“Before there’s another murder, I hope.” Bonnie practically inhaled her cookie. Apparently, she reacted to stress just like I did.
I was surprised to find BJ here. She still had bags under her eyes, and looked sad. She asked, “W
hy would the murderer leave a note for Alexis?”
Bonnie took a second cookie. “I want to know what it said.”
Me, too. How could I convince Paul to tell me?
BJ continued. “Alexis wasn’t even awake the night Gregorio was…” Her voice faded away. She sighed and shook herself. “Why would Kevin choose her bedroom?”
Garrett shrugged. “Maybe he just got the wrong room.”
Or perhaps Alexis knew something and the murderer was only trying to scare her into keeping her mouth shut. Something about BJ and Calabria’s argument in the library, perhaps? Could it be BJ was just doing a little damage control here?
“So you’ve switched theories?” Dr. Ray asked Garrett.
Garrett shrugged. “Anything is possible.”
Bonnie smiled. “I don’t think it was Vicki’s grandmother.”
“I don’t know,” I said, glancing at Grandma. “She can be pretty feisty.”
Grandma paused her knitting and pearling. “Feisty is good.”
“Yes,” Dr. Ray beamed. “It is.”
Bonnie said, “What if Alexis wasn’t really in her bedroom all night?”
Garrett said, “You saw how sick she was. She could barely walk, she had a migraine, and her hand was stabbed.”
I certainly couldn’t see the woman, squinting against the light that was so painful to her eyes, her hand cut and bandaged, climbing outside, using the staircase, in a snowstorm, and going to the carriage house to kill Calabria. Besides, the bloody clothes belonged to BJ.
“Alexis was in her room that evening,” Grandma said. “When I took up the medicine, she was following my advice: hot water on her feet in the bathtub, cold washcloth on her head.”
And that gave Alexis her alibi.
So the case against Kevin— or Kevin and his wife, BJ— was growing stronger by the minute. In this illogical mess, they seemed like the most logical suspects.
Did they have three million reasons to murder Calabria?
* * *
As I went down to pray with Zach and tuck him into bed, DeWayne offered to stay downstairs longer. I gratefully accepted.
I decided this would be as good a time as any to see if Paul and Liz needed help persuading BJ to talk with Kevin. I assumed they were still in her room, the Southern Sisters suite, on the third floor.
Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn Page 20