Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass

by Heather Day Gilbert

  * * * *

  It was after lunch when I pulled up at my carriage house. Mrs. Lewis came out to greet me, looking more casual than I’d ever seen her in what could only be described as “mom jeans.”

  “Miss Blake. I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive. Give me a moment to pick up my things and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Even stranger than the casual attire was the apologetic tone Mrs. Lewis was employing. I’d always fought the urge to kowtow to her, and now here she was, rushing out on my behalf.

  “No hurry,” I said to her retreating back. I was about to offer her hot tea or coffee when it hit me that she wasn’t being apologetic. She was genuinely anxious to get out of my carriage house.

  I sighed, hauling Rasputin’s cage out onto the driveway. When she emerged, Mrs. Lewis hardly gave the snake a second look. Pulling a small rolling suitcase behind her, she hightailed it toward the manor house, like she feared my house was ground zero for murders.

  I unloaded my things, then spritzed Rasputin’s cage and gave him fresh water. I’d be interested to watch the snake’s reaction when he saw Reginald again. Did snakes know their owners? Did snakes care one way or another about humans? It almost seemed Rasputin recognized me, but that could’ve just been coincidental. Maybe he didn’t like my shadow crossing his cage or maybe my smell gave him indigestion.

  Stone called soon after I went inside, but I let it go to voicemail. I hadn’t yet come up with a legitimate excuse for not hanging out with him.

  I played a few shooter video games, just to get my adrenaline up. I had a new plan to put into play. It could be dangerous, but I figured my innocent demeanor might come in handy if I got into a tight spot.

  I was going to spy on the Carringtons.

  It couldn’t be that hard. I could lurk any number of places in and around their huge house and never be seen. I was fairly certain they didn’t have security cameras, or Stone would’ve mentioned them. Plus, the police could’ve pulled the footage and found the killer by now. I figured they counted on their security guards to keep the place safe from outsiders.

  It was the insiders they hadn’t counted on.

  The snow had melted and the day seemed to be warming up nicely, so I dug around for an outfit that would blend into the landscape. Finally, I found an olive green shirt and camo pants. I added my brown boots and a brown knit hat, figuring I could skulk around behind trees and bushes in this garb.

  Stone called again. Once again, I let it go. I wondered if he was working from home today. Or maybe he’d gone into the city. Or possibly it was Frannie’s funeral today?

  I stopped my speculations and headed outside. I debated climbing behind the boxwoods and edging along the stone wall until I approached the house, but I figured that would seem more suspicious if someone happened to notice me. Instead, I would pretend to study flowerbeds while making my way to the back patio. I would avoid the kitchen entrance, but I knew there were other doors around back.

  I didn’t see Jacques working the grounds today. Much as I liked him, I had to entertain the possibility that he could’ve killed Margo and Frannie. He’d mentioned having a wife, which made him an unlikely pick for Margo’s hidden love interest, but he was generally around, like Val. Although I hadn’t seen him working evenings, so he likely wasn’t here the night Margo died.

  I returned to the serial killer angle. It could have been a killer who didn’t have any personal motivations—someone looking for women around a certain age.

  My age.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms, but I pushed on, focusing on the close-clipped rosebushes interspersed between silvery clumps of lavender. I skirted the fountain and moved quickly toward a small door that looked to be a good distance from the kitchen. Double-checking that no one was on the patio, I jiggled the knob and was pleased to find the door gave, just a little.

  But something had pinned the door shut, and it wouldn’t open another inch. Clearly, the door was left unlocked because they felt no idiot would try to break in this way. I worked up a light sweat, shoving with all my might, and I finally managed to open it wide enough that I could squeeze through the crack.

  Once inside, I moved the heavy boxes blocking the door, then slowly crept into the pitch-dark room. Holding my hands in front of me, I walked forward until I bumped into a shelf of some kind. I ran my fingers over the shelf, quickly ascertaining from the rolls of toilet paper and boxes of tissues that this was some kind of storage closet.

  I made out a crack of light coming from under a door, so I carefully tiptoed that way. Twisting the knob, I pushed the door open slightly. I was in some kind of hallway. No one was around, though I heard bustling voices not far off. From the sound of clinking dishes and cookware, I thought it was probably the kitchen, so I decided to head the opposite way.

  As I walked, I could almost hear Katrina asking me what kind of half-cooked plan this was. What if I was caught?

  I answered the Katrina in my head. “Good question. I’ll say I was looking for Stone and I got lost.”

  I continued to make my way down the hallway, exiting just as voices approached from the other end. I found myself staring at the sunlit entrance to the conservatory, so I crept along the wall toward it.

  Female voices were chatting inside, and I guessed that Melly had come here to soak up some rare November sunlight. I peeked out to see who she was talking with, but small palm trees—palmettos?—blocked my view. I flattened myself behind narrow tree trunks and inched my way toward the central area.

  Finally, I was able to make out Mrs. Lewis, who was settled at the table like a friend, not merely a hired secretary. She had leaned forward, oblivious to the steam rising off the cup of tea before her.

  I couldn’t hear what she was saying, so I took a chance and dove to the ground under an oversized, draping fern.

  “Tell me,” Melly said, an urgency in her voice. “I have to know.”

  Mrs. Lewis muttered almost to herself, then answered. “All right, I’ll tell you what I heard. Of course, as a loyal employee, I knew it would be unwise to share this information with the police.”

  Mrs. Lewis’s voice held a smug note, and I realized this wasn’t a little heart-to-heart between two friends. This was starting to sound like extortion.

  Melly’s voice flattened. “I understand.”

  “On the night of Margo’s death, I was heading home when I passed the study. I overheard Margo telling someone she was sure she was pregnant.”

  Melly gasped. “Who was it?”

  “I couldn’t tell,” Mrs. Lewis said. “Someone closed the door and I kept walking.”

  “Who could it have been?” Melly asked.

  Mrs. Lewis dropped her voice, so I crawled a bit closer, giving a little rattle to the fern leaves. Mrs. Lewis didn’t seem to notice, so enrapt was she in sharing her sordid gossip.

  “I have an idea of who it was,” she said. “But you’re not going to like it, Melly. In fact, it’s probably best if you don’t know.” She was directly in my line of view as she straightened in her chair, her thin back like a ramrod. Prim and proper to the end, that Mrs. Lewis. Except for the blackmail she was about to dabble in.

  Melly pressed again. “You have to tell me, Esther.”

  Mrs. Lewis hesitated. “Of course, I would need some time off after this. An extended break, you understand. With a little spending money?”

  And there it was. Would Melly fall for it?

  When Melly answered, there was no waver in her voice. “I have to know if there’s a killer hanging around my house, Esther. So yes, I’ll give you the time off and the...bonus.”

  Mrs. Lewis gave a brisk nod. “I’d parked off the side drive the night Margo was killed. I had just settled into the driver’s seat when two people ran out the front door. I could see them clearly because of the overhead lights. One was Margo, and a man was following her
. More like chasing her.”

  She hesitated, and I’m sure Melly wanted her to spit it out as much as I did.

  “And?” Melly sounded dubious.

  “And the man was Stone.”

  Melly burst into tears and I heard her swearing Mrs. Lewis to secrecy. Lani came in at that moment. I realized I might be visible to her, so I crawled backward for a short distance, then turned and inched out into the hallway. Once there, I brushed the fern leaves off my pants—walking straight into someone in the process.

  Narrow hands grabbed my elbows and I drew back. I looked up, blushing to realize I’d run right into Stone the elder. Since he was wearing flannel pajamas, I assumed he was home from work again. It was clear from the smell on his breath that he’d already been drinking.

  He smiled. “Miss...Brown, was it?”

  “Blake.” I wriggled free from his lingering grasp.

  His smile faded into something less than friendly. “In the conservatory, were you? Is my wife in there? I can’t seem to find her about.”

  “I don’t know. I was just looking for your son and I got lost.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Hmm. Lost under the ferns, looks like?”

  “I have to go.” I rushed down the hallway, then took a quick turn into another hallway that should have led back to the kitchen.

  Of course, it didn’t.

  Instead, I had entered a hallway with a curving staircase, and sure enough, Stone the fifth was stomping down toward me. He was glowering and looked like he wanted to deck someone.

  I froze in place, wondering if he’d stalk right past without glancing up. But of course, I had no such luck.

  He stopped mid-stride and his gaze traveled from my boots to my face. “Belinda? What’re you doing over here? I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “My phone’s been weird lately. I came over to let you know I was back.”

  I hated lying, but I had to protect my own hide right now. Especially given what Mrs. Lewis had shared. Stone had chased Margo outside on the night of her death. If that wasn’t suspicious behavior, I didn’t know what was.

  I didn’t want to be alone with him. Yet here we were, just the two of us.

  He seemed distracted, though. “I have to run down to the police station. That detective wanted me to stop by. They must be talking to everyone who was here on Thanksgiving. Mom and Lani already went down and gave statements.”

  “Oh, okay.” I tried to sound neutral.

  He stepped closer and I forced myself not to flinch. “Belinda, you’re going to have to keep up the search. I was thinking maybe we didn’t question Dietrich enough. He was so crazy about Margo—unhealthily so.”

  “But how does that explain Frannie’s murder?” I asked.

  His eyes were stormy. “I don’t know. Frannie must’ve figured something out. Why didn’t she tell me what it was?”

  The answer was obvious to me—Frannie hadn’t trusted him. But I didn’t answer him.

  Stone draped an arm over my shoulder. I stood very still, taking shallow breaths. Thankfully, I’d shoved my pepper spray in my pocket before I’d left the carriage house, and I knew I could pull it out and unleash havoc if Stone’s hands wandered toward my throat.

  Instead, his voice and demeanor grew gentle. “I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done to find this killer. I know it wasn’t easy, returning from a vacation and walking into a homicide scene...again. It was my fault for dragging you into this mess.” His luminous eyes beseeched me to understand, and in that moment, I did.

  I believed every stinking word he said, and that was my problem.

  His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. “That’s Red—he’s waiting outside. I’ll call you soon as I’m back. Or you call me.”

  To my utter astonishment, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. It wasn’t a careful kiss, more like a loose kiss charged with sadness. His lips slid toward mine and it took everything in me to place my hands on his chest and take a step back.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said, hoping my offhand manner masked both my attraction and my fear.

  “Sure. Okay.” He strode toward the door and I couldn’t take my eyes off his long-legged swagger.

  Once he was out of sight, I followed his footsteps and finally made it out the front door. I didn’t stop, though. I kept going straight to my carriage house, where I bombed into my room, grabbed my cell phone, and called Detective Watson.

  Chapter 22

  The detective’s warm voice seemed to reach right through the phone, calming a little of my anxiety. “Belinda. Sorry I haven’t contacted you yet. It’s been crazy around here. You know what happened, of course.”

  “I do. And I’m calling because I overheard something that’s probably relevant to the case.”

  His chair squeaked like he had leaned back. “Fire away.”

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t overthink this; I had to spill the facts. What Mrs. Lewis said, however deviously intended, made sense.

  “I know more about what happened the night of Margo’s death. The house secretary has been holding out on you.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “She told Mrs. Carrington that she overheard Margo telling someone she was pregnant that night. Then later, when she was in her car, she saw Stone chasing Margo out the front door. She said chasing her, not following her.”

  I waited for Detective Watson’s reaction, but when he spoke, it certainly wasn’t what I’d anticipated.

  “Thank you for sharing that. I can’t elaborate, but I’ve asked Stone the fifth down to the station today—in fact, he just checked in at the desk. I have some questions I need to ask him.”

  “What are you saying? You mean he’s a serious suspect?”

  “Evidence has come to light that has me concerned, I’ll tell you that much. I’d like you to stay put at your place the next day or two until I can wrap some things up. Don’t meet up with Stone the fifth again during that time.”

  I agreed. As I hung up, I let the full impact of our conversation hit me and I sank to the carpet in my room. Detective Watson hadn’t said it outright, but he must be considering Stone as the killer. That meant the man who’d taken me out to The White Peony, who’d walked along the beach with me, and who had shared a meal in my house could be a ruthless murderer.

  Because it did take sheer ruthlessness to strangle a woman, to relentlessly grip her neck as she gasped for her final breath.

  And if Stone had murdered those women, he had taken advantage of me by feigning grief, then talking me into a pointless quest for a killer. As Jonas and Katrina had suspected, he had ulterior motives.

  I felt dirty and used. I felt unattractive and idiotic. Why else would someone as gorgeous and wealthy as Stone have looked twice at me, if not to manipulate me so I was putty in his hands?

  A rap sounded on my door and I jumped, then reminded myself Stone was down at the station.

  I slunk over to the door and took a brief peep out the window. It was Dietrich. How did he know where I lived?

  I fingered my pepper spray to make sure it hadn’t fallen out, then opened the door.

  Dietrich looked artsy as ever, wearing suspenders and a gray flannel jacket over slim jeans. The jeans emphasized just how thin he was. Druggie thin, if you asked me.

  He mistook my perusal as interest and smiled. “I was looking for Stone, and they said he wasn’t home, so I scouted the grounds and found your delectable little house, just as Stone had described it.”

  I glanced again at his slight size and motioned him in. It seemed impossible someone so small could have strangled both women, so I figured I could trust him to some degree. “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Exactly what I was thinking, love.”

  His familiarity always warmed me. “You want some coffee?” I asked.

  “No,
thanks.” He stopped by Rasputin’s cage, transfixed. The snake obligingly slid out of his flower pot and draped himself at the front of the cage.

  “Glorious. Look at those markings. Have you picked it up, Belinda?”

  “Yes.”

  He pressed his hands together, like he was praying, and gave a little bow. “Hats off to you, brave goddess.”

  “Um, yeah. It’s really not that big a deal. Now I need to tell you something.”

  He gave one of his little hops, raising his hand. “Oh, please, let me go first.”

  I sat on the couch and he sat near me. “Go ahead.”

  “After I spoke with you and your sister—by the way, you both have the most perfect green eyes. Yours are a bronze-dusted deep green, and your sister’s are a foggy green, like moss. I’d love to paint them. Anyway, back to what I wanted to say. I thought you and Stone deserved to know the truth. On the night she died, Margo told me she was pregnant.”

  I remembered what Mrs. Lewis had said about overhearing Margo’s revelation that night. “Was it in the study?” I asked, before stopping to think.

  “Yes. Wait—how’d you know she was pregnant, much less that she told me in the study?”

  Instead of explaining, I demanded my own answers. “You and Stone definitively said no one left the billiards room with Margo that night.”

  Dietrich touched two fingers to his lips as if smoking an invisible cigarette. “Oh, honey. Stone was three sheets to the wind that night.”

  “He was drunk?”

  “Yes, he was hammered. He wouldn’t remember, though. Stone’s a sorry drunk, like his dad. They tend to black out and forget things the next day.”

  That shed a whole new light on things. I’d thought Stone’s drinking was controlled. He’d certainly acted disgusted enough with his dad’s alcoholism that day in the conservatory.

  Dietrich continued. “Now don’t get me wrong. I think after Margo’s death, Stone had some kind of epiphany. The last few times I’ve talked to him, he sounded downright repentant. In fact, he said he was determined to make it up to Margo, but he didn’t tell me how.”