Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial)

by Leigh Ellwood

  She looked up and saw’s Lorraine’s pleading eyes, moist and shining under the track lighting that normally would have illuminated the large mirror behind her. How to beg off the Miss Marple act without breaking the poor woman’s heart? Ronnie sighed. It would have been easier for her to tell Gina that she had willingly made out with one of the young men who robbed Lorena’s grave.

  “Lorraine,” Ronnie said, her fingers tightly intertwined into a ball. “I know we’ve been over this before, but I really can’t see why you are so adamant that either Nora or Danny could want to see Allayne dead—”

  “They’re both here, that’s opportunity,” Lorraine interrupted. “And when you finally get off your duff and get that cookie tested you’ll have the murder weapon.”

  “Maybe, but that might not mean much unless it can be proven that Allayne ate the cookie.”

  “What proof? I saw her eat it.” Lorraine frowned. “Danny left the bag in the kitchen when he got home. Allayne dove right for it and gobbled two and a half cookies before I snatched them away from her. She may have been on medical hiatus from the show, and the treatments might have taken a lot out of her, but she still needed to take care of her figure. Plus I didn’t want her throwing up all over the place.”

  “And you hold onto this belief that Danny tampered with the cookies?”

  “Or Nora, don’t forget her.” Lorraine waved her forefinger. “Who knows how long that bag was unattended before Allayne got to it? She could have easily slipped in something without anybody seeing.”

  Ronnie sighed. “You know, a defense lawyer might treat your witnessing Allayne eating the cookie as circumstantial evidence,” she said. “Had you agreed to an autopsy, the coroner might have found the digested poison—”

  “We discussed that,” Lorraine snapped, her body shaking. “Nobody’s cutting up my Laney! She’s buried whole, as the law says she’s supposed to be, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  She leaped up from her stool, surprising Ronnie as she stormed to the front picture window. “You want something concrete,” she added, “I’ll get you Laney’s dental records. They should match the teeth marks on the cookie. That will prove she ate poison.”

  If the cookie was poisoned, and if the indentations had not melted with the cookie’s travels from Two Witt to her townhouse, Ronnie knew. Lorraine was not going to let this die.

  She sighed again and shifted into the couch. Might as well play along, she thought. Eventually she’ll come to her senses.

  “Lorraine, there is one other possibility,” she began tensely as the woman turned slowly around to face her. “That day Gina and I were here, talking with Allayne, I got the impression that Allayne thought she might be in danger.”

  Lorraine put a hand to her heart. “My Laney thought that? She didn’t think to come to me?”

  “She didn’t come out and say it. It’s just a feeling I have. I was wondering if perhaps Allayne had received any unusual messages at the house lately, or on the phone. Like from an obsessive fan?”

  Lorraine folded her arms and shrugged. “Our number and address are unlisted here, and we screen all incoming calls, but no, fans don’t call the house. All of Laney’s business is conducted through Danny on his cell. As for mail, the majority of it comes here forwarded from the studio. I’ve helped answer her fan mail for years, and to my memory I’ve never seen a letter that wasn’t the standard ‘You’re my favorite character on the show’ platitude.”

  “This would be very recent, Lorraine. Maybe Allayne received something that you never saw, or refused to show you. Maybe somebody delivered some outside food that Allayne ate aside from the cookie.”

  Lorraine shook her emphatically. “I can’t see that. Laney and I had no secrets, and she was on a pretty strict diet.”

  “Still, don’t you think it’s possible Allayne might have kept some things private, even from you? Danny said he didn’t know about her cancer until days before her surgery.”

  “Right.” Lorraine clasped her hands. “Well, I suppose there’s one way to find out what I don’t know about my own daughter, huh?”

  ~ * ~

  An hour later, Ronnie perched on the corner of Allayne’s king-sized Swedish foam mattress, centered in a bedroom that matched Lorraine’s in size and elegance. Unlike the light, breezy motif of her mother’s living quarters, Allayne’s room took on a calmer, contemporary décor—stunning Scandinavian furniture surrounded by beige walls, with not one show business trapping to be found among her personal items. The room appeared very much to have been Allayne’s refuge from Hollywood… not to mention her final earthly destination.

  She pondered this as she sat on the bed. Allayne had died on this very bed, taking a nap. Nothing had been changed since her body was taken away; pillows were folded against each other, and satin sheets remained crumpled to suggest Allayne’s sleeping—dying—form. The thought chilled Ronnie, and had Lorraine not taken the only chair in the room she would not have seated herself there in the first place. Fatigue, however, had overcome the spooks.

  Guilt, by far, outweighed both of those feelings. She had balked when Lorraine suggested searching the room for evidence of a stalker, and, after finding nothing suspicious in a tour that included pawing through Allayne’s desk, dresser drawers, and walk-in closet, she felt worse. She was certain she had invaded Allayne’s privacy for nothing, and if Allayne did have more than just suspicions, she had clearly taken what she had to her grave.

  “So, let’s take stock,” Lorraine said, the frustration of the fruitless search evident in the beads of sweat on her forehead. “We found nothing here, and nothing in the room that used to be Dakota’s. That just leaves the two guest rooms where Nora and Danny are staying, and Nora is still sleeping.”

  Ronnie held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t go with you on it. I’ve learned enough by living with a cop to know that you can’t just search somebody’s room. In the unlikely event we were to find something, we would risk having the evidence thrown out in court because of illegal search and seizure. You’d be doing more harm than good.” Not that I expect to find anything, she wanted to add, but Ronnie had long tired of those same old dance steps.

  “Oh,” Lorraine said, disappointed. “But, technically, this is my house now, so I should have the right to search wherever I want, right?”

  Ronnie stood and glanced at Allayne’s bureau. Everything was where she had apparently left it. A matchbook from a tony downtown Jacksonville restaurant, spare change, and a shallow, porcelain dish containing enough jewelry to pay the difference on Ronnie’s townhome. “A good defense lawyer might see things differently,” she said. “I should probably go. I think we’ve done enough investigating for one night.”

  “Right. What a day.”

  Ronnie followed Lorraine down the stairs. “Could I use the bathroom before we call for Danny? I really need to go.”

  Lorraine pointed down the downstairs hallway toward her bedroom. “Oh, dearie, use mine. So many people here today, I’m sure the common one is a mess.”

  “Thanks.”

  What little Ronnie had seen of Lorraine’s bathroom during her first visit to the suite certainly did not do it justice. This was a far cry from the closet-sized chamber she had to use in Gina’s basement. Lush, tropical wallpaper surrounded a double-door shower stall and separate jetted tub, and the toilet was cordoned off by its own walls.

  “Wow.” Ronnie swore she heard an echo. She did her business quickly and washed her hands with the bar of lavender soap resting on a turtle-shaped dish. Glancing downward, she could not help but notice the wastebasket underneath the pedestal sink. Amid wads of tissue and makeup sponges she spotted a hypodermic needle. Ronnie frowned; she had not realized Lorraine was diabetic. She had so much energy, and the way she ate!

  Lorraine was pacing the foyer, looking at her watch when she returned. “Danny’s finishing yet another cigarette on the back patio,” she said with a grimace.
“He’ll be here any second now.”

  “You really want me to ride home with him?” Ronnie had not meant to sound too sarcastic, but for a woman who was suspicious of the man…

  “You know what they say, dear, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Lorraine winked with a pained smile. “I know you’re probably thinking me an old woman crazy with grief—”

  “I don’t think that,” Ronnie rejoined quickly. Was that a lie?

  “But I’m thinking that you could use this time alone with Danny to interrogate him. You know, get him to slip up. Maybe he’ll admit to some wrongdoing.”

  “Somehow I’d think Danny might catch on quickly if I tried something.”

  “Ah, but you have that analytical mind,” Lorraine insisted, her rubber-soled shoes not making a sound as they walked. “You found that one murderer, you’ll find this one.”

  “Of course.” Ronnie sighed. If one exists, let’s just hope I don’t find him at the steering wheel.

  ~ * ~

  The Porsche sat much lower than Ronnie’s Firebird, and the cab was definitely cozier. While the Firebird did not have much of a backseat area, Danny’s car had none. In lieu of that was an expensive set of stereo speakers, which tickled Ronnie’s ears with a playful Mozart symphony.

  “Really?” Danny was saying to her. “You’ve never ridden in a Porsche before?”

  “You don’t find many of them in Ash Lake,” Ronnie admitted.

  Danny toggled the stick shift. “Well, we should definitely make your inaugural ride worth the while,” he said, and mashed the gas pedal. The car shot out of Two Witt’s driveway onto the main road like a stock car at the Daytona 500, pressing Ronnie into her seat. She tried to relax as the scenery blew past her window, and did not realize she had been holding her breath until Danny glanced at her.

  He chuckled and eased off the pedal. “I forgot, as small as this town is, you’d be home in two minutes, and that’s not long enough to appreciate a car like this.”

  “I suppose not,” Ronnie said with a nervous laugh. An awkward silence followed, with Lorraine’s words pounding in her ears. Get him to slip up. How to do that? Would it make any difference? Confirm that Allayne’s murder was a non-issue?

  “So,” she said finally, “I suspect you’ll be heading back to LA soon?”

  “Eventually,” Danny said, nodding. “Though I’m not in any rush. Allayne was my only client, and though it would probably be therapeutic to dive back into work and take on other actors, my heart’s just not in it right now.”

  “I know what you mean. When my husband died, I had to take a leave of absence from work. I didn’t know which way was up for months.”

  Danny eyed her sharply. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” His hand lifted from the stick shift and came to rest just above her knee, touching her skirt. Ronnie felt the entire leg numb.

  “It’s, uh, okay, it was a few years ago.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she could tell Danny sensed her unease. She breathed deeply when he retracted his hand.

  “Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “It’s best that I stay here for a while longer. I don’t know if you heard at the house, but Nora’s been planning something.”

  “She mentioned something about a memorial for the fan base.”

  “Trust me, this is no ordinary memorial,” Danny said grimly. “I heard her on the phone today with somebody from the Alhambra Dinner Theater at the beach. Nora wants to put on a musical tribute to Allayne there, since that’s where her career began, with proceeds going to the Allayne Foundation. I probably wouldn’t have heard of it had Alex not mentioned it to me.”

  “Alex?”

  “Sorry, Alex Penrod. He plays Brantwood on the show. You saw him at the shivah. Nora convinced him to participate, and he was asking me about the place.”

  “Right, I did meet him at the house.”

  Danny’s sigh was labored. “Lorraine’s going to hit the roof when she hears about it.”

  “I can see why,” Ronnie mused. “She loved her daughter. She’s not going to want to be left out of the planning.”

  “Oh, Lorraine won’t want to plan anything at all, right now,” he said, then added upon seeing Ronnie’s confused expression, “I’m sorry, I forget you’re not Jewish. According to our customs, those in mourning are not supposed to attend any events with music for the next thirty days. Planning this event, it’s like Nora’s slapping Allayne’s mother in the face.”

  “I see. You know, I even wonder if Allayne would have wanted something like that planned in the first place.”

  Danny shook his head and braked gently at a stop sign. “I doubt it. Allayne loved her fans, and her career, but she valued her privacy. My guess is that Nora’s doing all of this stuff to show us that she can still be useful. Else she’s going to have to go out and find a real job.”

  “Really? So being fan club president was an actual paid position?” Ronnie was astonished. To think one could make a living of producing a quarterly newsletter and maintaining an Internet Web site devoted to another person. “Why didn’t I think to get a job like that?”

  “Yes, she draws a salary,” Danny said with a laugh. “Doesn’t make as much as me, but it’s enough to pay the bills. It’s a shame, though, that Allayne didn’t survive her illness. Nora would’ve been fine.”

  “Oh? Was Allayne going to renew her contract with the show?”

  “Not only that, but we were about to sign with the network for the lead in a miniseries.” He mentioned the name of the book on which the movie would be based. Ronnie whistled.

  “Read it. Oprah’s Book Club. I can see Allayne in the lead, too.”

  “She was made for the part, and it would’ve been the perfect springboard to feature films, too.”

  Ronnie noticed Danny’s voice sounded pained as he talked. How much commission from those contracts would be lost with Allayne’s passing? Certainly the prospect of soap opera residuals would not compensate. And the look in his eyes as he mentioned Allayne’s name… he honestly loved and missed her.

  No, this man was innocent, she decided. That left Nora.

  “Which way do I go from here?”

  “Huh?” Ronnie looked out the windshield at the intersection before them. She pointed Danny toward her complex, and leaned in her seat as the car turned.

  “Yeah, that is a shame,” she said, “I imagine Nora could have done much for the fan club, with promoting a TV miniseries. Hey, is it true that Nora has the right to license Allayne’s name to merchandise?”

  The Porsche stopped in front of Ronnie’s mailbox. Danny adjusted the parking brake, but let the engine idle in neutral. He twisted in his seat to face Ronnie, smirking.

  “You’ve been talking to Lorraine,” he accused.

  “Lorraine’s been talking to me.”

  Danny scratched his chin. One day into the ritual mourning, and already he appeared to be sprouting a few coarse, blond hairs. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he said, rather tersely, “but yes, Nora is authorized to do just that. However, the net of all monies made off of Allayne’s image and name will be given to the Allayne Foundation. Nora won’t benefit personally.”

  Ronnie nodded slowly. The air in the cab suddenly cooled, and she released the clasp of her seatbelt. “I see, I’m sorry. Lorraine wasn’t clear with me on that, and you’re right. It’s none of my business.” She swallowed back her beating heart, wondering if this awkward turn in the conversation would get back to Lorraine.

  “Nora didn’t kill her, Ronnie.”

  What? Ronnie gaped at Danny, unaware that no sound had come from her open mouth.

  Danny’s eyebrows raised, wrinkling his forehead. “That’s what you’re insinuating, isn’t it? This sudden interest in Nora, I mean. Your sister told me at the shivah that you’ve been dating the town sheriff, so I know you can’t be interested in Nora for other reasons.”

  Ronnie held her breath. Dating, dated… she didn’t know what she was
to Lew anymore. As for Nora… “No! I mean, no,” she added in a lower voice. “It’s not like that at all. I mean,” down to whisper now, “is Nora…?”

  Danny shrugged. “Personally, I don’t know and I don’t care. She spends so much time being the president of the fan club that I don’t think she has a social life.”

  “Uh-huh.” Still none of my business. “So, what makes you think I think Allayne’s death is suspicious?”

  “It’s not that difficult to read Lorraine. Remember, I’ve been staying at the house, so I’ve had the pleasure of watching the woman fuss about and eye us with caution,” he said without a hint of malice. “Plus I know all about you tangling with that murderer last year, and seeing Lorraine taking you into her confidence… I just put two and two together.”