by Judith Mehl
Kat placed her mug carefully on the table, then her hands rose up and clapped lightly, once, as if holding on to her excitement. She knew where Fanny was headed.
Fanny continued, “So they wanted to follow me to somewhere.”
And Kat chirped in . . . . “probably in the hopes of finding Agatha.” Then she slumped back in her chair as a thought registered, “You know, it sure seems like whoever is following you and committing these murders isn’t the same person as leaving the notes with the bouquets.”
“The notes are so obviously a warning. Who else could it be?”
“Let’s regroup. The books are fine. You’re safe from direct attack. Margaret and Rosalin were killed, and Agatha’s at risk. The note is quite threatening and strange men are looking for her. I’m glad she’s still in hiding.”
Now Fanny hunched over. Even the tea couldn’t help dispel her fears.
Kat rallied first. She rose with purpose, straightened her shoulders and stumbled. All right. The ankle wasn’t quite keeping up with her determination. She moved slower. Her mind sailed to the next point. “I’ll go see Agatha. She’s probably so bored she’ll try to teach me to quilt again. Maybe she knows more than she realizes. The will is paramount.”
Her friend was so distracted she just stood at the front door and didn’t open it for Kat. “You learned to quilt?”
“Hey! It’s not like the sky just fell. Get that shocked look off your face, young lady.”
Fanny didn’t laugh. She howled. Mouth wide open emitting fire siren squawks that bent her over.
“What? You don’t think I can learn? Why, I can now rock that needle as smoothly as I’d rock a baby in a rocking chair. Admittedly, at first, I kept trying to thrust through that cloth, up and down, one move at a time.”
Fanny controlled her laughter, wiped her tears, and serenely asked, “What happened. Did it bite back?”
Kat hitched her purse over her arm, determined to move out the door this time. “No, but I thought Agatha showed great restraint. I could see her barely resisting the urge to slap my hand when I zeroed in for the stab. I’ve never seen her violent. This came close.”
Fanny finally opened the door while blocking Kat’s exit. “Is it wrong of me to ask why Agatha isn’t the prime suspect in the deaths of Margaret and Rosalin?”
“I thought you knew. The police dismissed her as a suspect right away. She was out of town when Margaret died. That was confirmed by the conference people, the bus driver, and many other attendees.”
The young woman’s expressive face briefly flashed relief, before it reflected more puzzlement. “But she was right there. She found the body.”
“Even though she found the body, it was long past death. Besides, you and I both know she couldn’t have done it.”
Fanny smiled and moved out of the way. “Like you said, the police suspect practically everyone, even me.”
“Touche! Now I must leave. I need to talk with Agatha about the will.”
“I thought your first stop was the police?”
“Of course, technically, the answers would be from them. The trick is to never approach them head on. I’m sure Agatha has spoken with them. And she more than likely is the one listed in the will so she should know more by now. Besides, it’s much more pleasant speaking with Agatha than with Burrows who acts ready to strangle me at any moment.”
Fanny stood on the steps, arms on hips, firm-set jaw and sealed lips revealing amazing restraint. Kat knew she was just itching to comment.
Once Kat parked in the rear hotel lot, she donned her stacked bob wig. Ready to wear right out of the box, the coffee latte wig served as a foolproof disguise in the past. It brought back fond memories. For now, it allowed her some protection from spies. She’d driven around endlessly to ensure no one could follow her from Fanny’s house. Of course, she didn’t share the woman’s stunt driving tendencies, but felt her diversionary tactics would be enough to provide elusion. She didn’t want anyone she knew to recognize her anywhere near that hotel.
Agatha didn’t answer her door, which, hopefully meant her friend gained caution recently. She’d been told about Fanny’s experiences, with enough emphasis to engender care if not fear for her safety. When she knocked on the agency suite, Lewis answered. Eyebrows raised in inquiry, he politely asked what she wanted. Kat laughed and repeated an embarrassing story only she and Nick knew about the man.
“Who are you?”
“Lewis. Did you fail your detective exam? It’s me, Kat!”
She’d never seen the man blush like that.
He opened the door so quickly she almost fell through.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m trying to protect Agatha. I didn’t want to enter here looking like me. They might follow me to see if she’s here. I came to see her but she won’t open the door. New rules, I presume?”
“You got it. Go on through here. I’m glad she finally listened to me. That woman. Stubborn as they come.”
Kat swiveled around mid stride. “You can’t possibly mean that dear, sweet, woman in there. Why she’s the most kind and considerate person I know.”
Lewis escorted her to the connecting door. “Yes, I mean Agatha. The sweet one is the one that orders coffee, tea, and scones for the men. The other one, her evil twin, argues with me all day about the necessity to stay in her room.”
Kat’s grin rivaled the Cheshire Cat as she knocked on Agatha’s door and entered at the meek, “Yes, who’s there?”
Engulfed in a motherly hug the second she walked in the door, she managed to turn around and smile her own sweet smile at Lewis before she firmly closed the door.
After a hearty laugh regarding Lewis’s attitude she and Agatha settled down to a serious discussion on the reason the woman was still situated in such an elegant suite.
“Well, I guess it’s not quite against my will. I am getting stir crazy. Now that Fanny was followed, he won’t take me out to buy fabric or anything.”
Kat carefully pulled off her wig and set it and the hair pins on the dresser. Shaking her hair to straighten it out, she sighed in relief.
“It’s Margaret’s will I came to discuss. As much as you feel free to talk about. Fanny and I agreed that there were very few reasons why anyone could want you killed. Even Lewis loves you.”
She didn’t realize how much that jest would make her friend blush. She hid her surprise by turning her head and pulling out her notebook. “So we decided that maybe someone had a hidden agenda with the herb farm or shop. Who could possibly want it? What would they do to get it? Concerns like that. I’m sure the police have questioned you on all this.”
Agatha looked at Kat. “They have. And Margaret’s lawyer finally returned home and found the police calls on his machine. He’d closed up his daily practice. Since he was still alive and kicking, he’d felt no need to provide Margaret with another lawyer. He kept some of his oldest clients, thinking of them more as friends.”
Kat made a quick notation and asked, “You talked with him directly?”
“Yes, he was heartbroken. He was given Lewis’s cell phone number to contact me. Even the police don’t want anyone to know where I am.”
Kat already held the police in great esteem. That just confirmed her belief they could be trusted to help protect Agatha.
“Did her lawyer clear up the inheritance of the farm?”
Tears traveled slowly down Agatha’s face. “Margaret left everything to me. The lawyer said it didn’t even matter if there were unknown relatives. The will stated details and verification that I had assisted her in numerous ways to make the herb farm successful. It’s all mine now, though without Margaret I can’t imagine continuing running it the way she did.”
Kat found a box of tissues and handed several to Agatha. Pretty soon she’d be crying herself, in frustration over lack of clues. She knelt near Agatha to give her a lasting hug.
Agatha recovered, wiped her tears, and finished. “He said that Bit
tersweet Herbs ownership was a little more complex. Yet, it is completely mine, also. Rosalin’s per cent apparently served as a payout rather than entailing ownership rights after she died.”
Kat straightened. Getting up on her bad ankle proved more difficult than getting down. So, if Agatha was the sole heir, and everyone knew it, would that put her in more danger?
She cautioned Agatha to tell no one until the police decided the best method of revealing the ownership. It raised the very serious question that Fanny had. If Agatha is the heir, and someone is after the sole surviving owner of the herb farm and shop, what could they want? How would they gain by killing her?
“Agatha, do you know of any relatives that might have a right to the farm if you died?”
“I don’t have any surviving relatives. My lawyer says, to protect myself, I need to draw up a new will right away. It will be complicated, though, because of the shop and farm. They are two entities but strongly connected.”
The only person possibly still in existence and hoping to gain something would be from George’s side of the family. His sister died years ago but her son may still be around. He was kind of a bad sheep and George banned him from the farm even before his sister died.”
“Have you mentioned him to Detective Hill?”
“Yes, he came by as soon as he heard my lawyer was back in town. First, they have to hunt up records to even find the kid’s name. I didn’t know much about George’s relatives.”
“The kid Charlie mentioned sounded like the same guy, the nephew. With Charlie’s help maybe they’d tracked him down by now.”
Kat figured she may have to talk with the police after all. Maybe Detective Hill would tolerate her prying more than Burrows, her confirmed thorn ever since her father left the force and headed to Florida. He acted like a godfather or something, constantly reminding her to stay out of trouble. It wasn’t her fault trouble came calling. It would help if she could find some information to help him out.
She’d spent hours recently studying the samples of handwriting from people even remotely involved in the lives of her friends, Margaret and Rosalin. In the past her best entry key had been her knowledge of handwriting. She was beginning to think that the person or people involved were not yet in the loop of her investigation. The question was, did the police have them in their sights?
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to share the conclusion she and the sisters had made. The notes and bouquet warnings didn’t fit the attack on Rosalin. Then it hit her. Detective Fulton Hill would be her target. With him sweet on Fanny, Kat bet she could worm anything out of the man.
Chapter 30
An angular writer is driven to act, but if the forms are slightly rounded, the writer will control his power and persistence to do good.
“Kat, what part of ‘leave the investigating to the police’ don’t you understand.” Fulton’s whisper shouted as loud as it could in a restaurant.
“The part where my friend is in danger, but getting tired of hiding. I’ve got to help. So don’t go all official on me. We’re at this quaint restaurant tucked into a beautiful hillside of blooming azaleas, and I thought we could just enjoy a calm conversation.”
Detective Fulton Hill snapped open his menu and huffed. After taking a quick glance where he registered nothing, he closed it again.
“Kat, when you invited me to breakfast, you suggested you might have something to say about Fanny Endicott.”
Kat closed the menu slowly and set it aside, giving it a final pat of approval. She knew what she would order. With a smile she touched the officer’s hand that fumbled restlessly on the table between them. “Fulton, don’t fuss. I do have something to discuss about Fanny. I just wondered how the investigation was going.”
He lifted his head and faced Kat square on. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I feel awkward about the situation between Fanny and me and it was difficult for me to come this morning when you said you wanted to talk about her.”
Kat acknowledged him and used the time it took for her order to decide what to say. “I’ve established a closer relationship to Fanny since this whole frightening scenario of deaths and car chases. She’s delightful, bright, and mature beyond her years. Yet, she often says what she thinks without preplanning and equivocation. That’s usually fine because she is such an innocent that whatever she says comes directly from the heart with only the kindest of intentions.”
Fulton, who had also ordered, stared at Kat with intensity, listening to each word as if he was trying to figure out where they would lead. He didn’t even notice when the server set the hot platter of eggs in front of him. Kat saw them, though, and smiled, stifling an abrupt laugh. Fulton looked down, saw the food, but couldn’t figure out what was so funny.
Kat explained, “Yesterday, when I met with Chief Detective Burrows . . .” she halted, waiting for him to acknowledge her concession. When he nodded, she continued. “I took him to the new vegan place in town. He would have killed for those eggs. I promise I won’t tell him you ate them if you don’t tell him.”
Fulton lightened up. He sat straighter in his chair, relaxed the stance of his legs, and tackled his breakfast with relish. He looked up at Kat, waiting.
She nibbled her bagel, taking one tiny bite, then set it down. “I don’t want her hurt.”
He set his utensils down firm and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t want her hurt, either. I’m scared she’s in the middle of this, and I don’t mean guilty of anything. I’m scared someone will try to injure her, or capture her, or torture her. I can’t sleep.”
She knew Fulton cared for Fanny. She saw it whenever they were together, or even in the same room. She didn’t realize how serious it had gotten. Her ploy to worm information out of the man when he was suffering so, turned her stomach. She frowned at the bagel as if it was the bread’s fault. Now what? She studied the man with sympathy this time. He really did look in pain. Kind of grey around the edges. Not a good sign from someone in his thirties.
“Fulton, you sound like you might be in love with her.”
He’d been looking for the waitress and more coffee, but at Kat’s words he jerked his head back so fast she mentally heard the snap. She smothered her smile with another bite of bagel. Didn’t taste so bad after all.
“Whoa, ma’am. You’re way ahead of me. Of us. We haven’t talked about anything like that. We never even kissed.” Fulton turned pink when he realized what he’d said to someone who was a mere acquaintance. “Way too much information. Sorry.”
“Let’s say that all the signs I’ve been seeing between you too are just the beginning of something. You would be this concerned about anyone involved in your investigation . . . .”
“Maybe we don’t have to revert that far away from your premise. Just that Fanny and I haven’t talked. Now it looks like she’s not talking with me at all. When she didn’t answer my call and I was certain she was home I almost pulled a really stupid move. I wanted to bang on her door, call her on it, and tell her she was impeding an investigation.”
“I’m glad you stopped before you did that. Besides, how were you going to do it? Arrest her through the locked door?”
“I was more in the mood to break it down.”
Kat made a fuss over the alignment of her coffee mug, plate, and silverware. By studying them with care, she managed to stifle her amusement. She’d seen Fulton’s handwriting and knew it was angular. He wanted to get the job done and didn’t tolerate interference. She’d also seen a softness in those angles, and a gentleness in his nature. She knew he’d curtail his firmness with Fanny.
“Let’s come up with a better plan.”
He drank from his refilled coffee and waited, hope shining in his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
“It might help to start with an apology for accusing her of—what specifically did you accuse her of that she won’t talk with you?”
“I swear, I didn’t say a thing. She just assumed I thought she was a suspect in this case and fume
d away.”
“Again, it’s good you didn’t run after her and say anything. Suspicion hangs like miasma in the air. You would have had trouble talking through it.”
Fulton jerked out a laugh, then sobered. “Everyone who worked at the herb shop was under suspicion. You know that.”
“Man, think. Somehow with the pheromones waving through the air between you two, she might have felt that you cared for her. Then you slam her with the thought that you’re interest was just a professional one. For someone as sensitive as Fanny, that’s all it would take.”
“So, how do I get back in her good graces?”
Kat laughed at the straight-forward guy thing. “First, we have to find a way to distinguish between police business and personal, which brings us back to the case. It would be nice if you could eliminate her from suspicion. Maybe just catch the killer and get it over with.”
Fulton sat back, wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and folded it back up as if it was prize linen. At last, he looked up at Kat in anguish. “We’re not that far along.”
“Can you tell me what you know?”
Fulton confirmed, “An autopsy indicated a fall of such a nature that implies Rosalin Bromfield was probably pushed. As with Margaret, a ruling on the manner of death is pending results of a toxicology test and further investigation.”
Her mind boggled trying to follow the legalese that covered any eventuality of being incorrect.
He added, “The investigation is going in two directions. Either the herb farm and shop are intricately related to the deaths.”
He held up the second finger. “Or, something near the herb farm triggered both deaths. You know we discussed this at the meeting at the station. We’re looking at the resort development project fronted by Harrison Chandler. If Ms. Bromfield, or Mrs. Kinney saw something regarding what they were doing that seemed suspicious to them, then it may have put their lives in danger.”