by Glen Ebisch
“I highly recommend the almond cake,” said Raymond.
“That sounds splendid,” Clarissa said.
Mrs. Rush put a piece on a plate and set it on the table next to her. After serving her employer, she quickly left the room.
Clarissa added some milk to her tea and took a sip, then she tasted the cake.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” the man asked, taking a piece of his own.
“Scrumptious.”
He smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed eating, but with age, it’s become one of the few pleasures that I haven’t had to drastically curtail.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of changes in the world during your lifetime.”
“From when I began remembering things in the early thirties until today seems like several lifetimes in many ways; other times, it seems like the blink of an eye. Change, of course, often happens gradually, so it is only in looking back that you realize how different things are today than when you were a child,” Raymond said.
“Do you have many regrets?” Clarissa asked, genuinely curious.
He chuckled. “Anyone my age would be lying if he said he didn’t. The one thing I regret the most is that I didn’t serve in World War II. I was a year or two too young. At the time, I admit, I felt lucky, but as time has gone by, I’ve come to regret not having taken part in the great adventure of my generation.”
“But you might not have survived.”
“There’s always that,” he said with a smile. “I suppose I should be grateful for the experiences I have had. And some of them have been quite delightful, like having beautiful women as ministers instead of stodgy men.”
Clarissa blushed and smiled, thinking that this fellow was probably quite the charmer in his day. “Thank you,” she said. “I hope my skills as a pastor also prove satisfactory.”
“The fact that you’ve come to see me within a couple of weeks of taking up your duties demonstrates that will be the case,” he complimented. “Coming to see the oldest first is probably wise, just in case.” He winked. “You’ve already done far better than your predecessor, who visited once in ten years, and only came then to ask for money to get the church painted. I granted his request, but it was a bit galling.”
“I think ministers today are being encouraged to get out more to meet their congregations,” Clarissa said.
“They were sixty years ago, too. Perhaps the problem was with Hollingsworth rather than with ministerial training. Although he did play golf with my grandson, Harry, quite frequently. So perhaps I’m being too harsh.”
“I gathered that was the Reverend’s favorite sport. I also knew he was friends with Harry.”
Raymond gave her a shrewd glance. “More than you are?”
Clarissa warned herself not to underestimate this man because of his age. His mind indeed was sharp, and his information was current. “Harry and I have had a recent disagreement over the sale of church land. Are you familiar with the issue?”
Raymond nodded. “I try to keep up-to-date on matters concerning Shore Side. I still have a number of friends from when I was more active who keep me well-informed,” he said. “I knew that Rogers would eventually be exposed as a crook, and I warned Harry to have nothing to do with him, but I’m afraid my grandson has always been a bit too tempted by the allure of quick money.”
“You prefer longer-term investments?”
“Harry likes to buy and sell commercial real estate; I prefer to run a business. Now, when I can’t run them anymore personally, I invest in them. The profits are gradual, but more reliable.”
“You were once partners with Royce Llewellyn, weren’t you?” Clarissa asked.
Raymond smiled. “Ah, yes, those golden days of yesteryear. That really brings back memories. We owned The Harmony of the Sea Hotel together.” He frowned. “Of course, not all of the memories are good. Royce was murdered.”
“Yes, I know.”
He gave her a sharp look. “How did you happen to find out about the murder so soon after arriving in town?”
“David Ames died a few days ago, and I’ve been preparing his funeral service,” she explained.
Raymond tapped the arm of his chair, as if to stimulate his mind. “Of course, he was the prime suspect for a while because he’d had an argument with Royce, and was fired shortly before the murder. Royce was a friend and had a good head for business, but he had a tendency to be short-tempered with the staff. I’m sure the police found several suspects among our employees.”
“After Royce was murdered, you bought the hotel from his widow, am I correct?” Clarissa asked.
“That’s right. I did it more as a favor to Doris than as a wise business decision. The building was in need of extensive repairs, and even by the late sixties, people were losing interest in staying at traditional Victorian hotels. Modern was in,” he said. “I was tempted to have us just sell it, but I thought it would be easier for her if I bought it and sold it later myself. Royce was really the one who enjoyed running the hotel.”
“He liked the feeling of being in charge?”
“That was part of it. A side of him saw himself as the captain of a ship.”
Clarissa took a deep breath and decided to risk a more controversial question. “Wasn’t it also a way for him to form liaisons with women?”
Raymond smiled sadly. “By today’s standards, Royce was a very politically incorrect employer, and by any standards, he was a less than faithful husband. I put up with it because he had good qualities, as well. In any event, after his death, I wanted to sell because it was not a big money maker. Oh, it made a profit, but there were lots of better places to put the money.”
“If it was such a poor investment, why didn’t you sell the hotel until 1980?” Clarissa asked.
“You are very well-informed,” Raymond said with a shrewd glance at Clarissa. “Well, the answer is that my son George was a bit like Royce, and he loved being the boss of something. He had been Royce’s assistant manager, so when I bought the hotel from Doris, I put it in his hands and told him he could run it as long as it made a profit. It did until 1980.”
“That’s why you sold it then—it stopped being a good investment?”
Raymond sighed. “Yes, at the time it was purely a business decision. At least that was the way I looked at it. But given what it did to my son, perhaps I should have thought about it differently.”
“What happened?” Clarissa asked softly.
“Once George didn’t have the hotel to manage, the heart went out of the boy. Oh, he carried on for another ten years dabbling at this and that. He started the commercial real estate company that Harry runs today, but his life was a misery. When the heart attack came in his late fifties, I’m sure that, for him, it was almost a relief.”
“The hotel meant that much to him?”
“Indeed.” Raymond nodded sadly. “Before Royce died, George was always urging me to buy him out. I made several offers just to appease George, but Royce was adamant that he wasn’t going to sell. George was furious about it. He seemed to believe that Royce was doing it just to frustrate him. They got into several fierce arguments over it. Being an assistant manager wasn’t enough for George. He wanted to be the captain of the ship, but so did Royce. And a ship can’t have two captains.”
“He must have been somewhat pleased when Royce was killed,” Clarissa remarked.
Raymond gave her a troubled look. “I can tell you’re thinking along the same lines that I did at the time. Is it possible my son killed Royce to get control of the hotel? I worried about that enough at the time that I checked into his whereabouts when Royce was murdered. George was off work that evening, so I wasn’t able to conclusively confirm that he couldn’t have done it. When I indirectly asked him where he had been when Royce was murdered, he said that he was home with his wife. I’m sure she would have confirmed his alibi. What wife wouldn’t?”
“What did you think?” Clarissa asked.
Raymond glanced at the tabl
e next to his chair. “Would you be so kind as to pour me another cup of tea?”
“Of course.”
He stayed silent while Clarissa poured them each more tea. He took a couple of sips before resuming. “I’m afraid that I always thought it was possible that George had killed Royce,” he said softly. “They really didn’t get along because they both wanted the same thing. I was much relieved when the police concentrated their investigation on the staff members Royce had fired. They never even questioned George or myself. Just as well—I wouldn’t have lied for my son, and now I’d have something else to regret. Although I suppose none of it matters, now that George is dead.”
Clarissa sat there for a long moment, uncertain whether she should say more.
Raymond studied her. “You’re holding something back. Is there more that I should know?”
Despite her promise of confidentiality to Detective Baker, she felt that this was one of those times when it would be beneficial to share information in order to get information. She made her decision.
“David Ames didn’t die of heart failure,” she finally said. “He was murdered in the hospital, and I think he was killed because he’d been blackmailing the killer of Royce Llewellyn for the last fifty years.”
Raymond sat for a moment, absorbing what he had been told, and then he smiled in relief. “So the killer couldn’t have been my George. He’s been dead for over twenty years.”
“Some things are passed on in families,” Clarissa said.
“Ah, you mean that Harry could have taken up his father’s mantle in order to protect the reputation of the family?”
“Would he have come to you and told you what he was doing?” she asked.
Raymond shook his head. “He knows I don’t fully approve of his values, and he knows that I would never condone blackmail under any circumstances. But why would Harry kill David Ames after paying blackmail for thirty years? Why not just wait for the man to die?”
“I believe Ames was going to pass along the information to someone else who would continue the blackmail,” Clarissa said. “So the killer silenced him before that could happen.”
“Who was Ames going to tell?”
“His old friend, Jack Spurlock.”
Raymond frowned. “Didn’t he recently die in an accident where he fell from a ladder?”
“It was no accident. The ladder was pushed.”
The old man slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. He looked every bit of his ninety-something years. “My grandson is many things: foolish, greedy, impulsive, and small-minded,” he said. “But I can’t imagine him being a multiple murderer.”
“Maybe he isn’t. It’s only a hypothesis, and so far there’s no hard evidence to back it up. I haven’t presented my ideas to the police,” Clarissa reassured him.
“Thank God for that. Would you leave the police out of it until you’ve talked with Harry?”
“I’m not sure he’ll see me after this church land business,” she said.
“He’ll see you. I guarantee it. He expects to inherit a sizable estate after I go, and that gives me a great deal of influence over him,” Raymond said drily. “Oh, yes, he’ll talk to you. I’ll have him give you a call to set up a meeting, but I won’t tell him what it’s about. You can approach it in your own way. All I ask is that you be fair and honest. Beyond that, let the chips fall where they may.”
“Thank you. I greatly appreciate your help,” Clarissa said.
Raymond gave her a thin smile. “This has certainly not been a typical pastoral visit.”
“I’m sorry if I distressed you,” she apologized.
“No, no. You’ve just reminded me of something important that I let slide in the past—ascertaining whether my son was guilty of murder. And that’s made me very aware that I shouldn’t make the same mistake in the present with my grandson.”
Clarissa stood.
“Please forgive me if I don’t stand,” Raymond said. “I’m feeling rather tired right now.”
She walked the few steps between the chairs and took his hand. “I look forward to seeing you again. Thank you for all your help,” she said.
“No, no. Thank you, my dear. Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty
As Clarissa looked out her window at the dawn on Monday morning, she saw that it was slightly overcast, and wondered if there was a possibility of rain in the afternoon. That would make it the kind of day at the beach that everyone on vacation dreaded.
She watched the sun appear as a fuzzy pink ball just above the horizon, and thought about yesterday’s conversation with Raymond Blanchard. It certainly seemed as if his son, George, had a motive to kill Royce Llewellyn, since he had very much wanted to be in charge of running the hotel. However, it struck her as odd that he would happen to choose the day after David Ames was fired to commit the crime, unless he hoped the blame would fall on Ames. Of course, if Ames had nothing to do with the murder, there wouldn’t necessarily be a connection between the two events. It could have been happenstance that the killer struck right after Ames was fired, and just luck that Ames went off to attack Llewellyn on the night that the killer decided to strike. Coincidences did happen, Clarissa reminded herself, but she couldn’t rid herself of the suspicion that the two events were somehow connected.
Clarissa showered and dressed. She went down to the kitchen, where Mrs. Gunn was pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“I enjoyed your sermon yesterday on rebirth,” Mrs. Gunn said, filling Clarissa’s cup. “It’s good to be reminded as we get older that things don’t have to go on the way they are until the end.”
“That’s right. No matter what the past events in our lives, or how long one has been following a particular path in life, there is always the possibility of change if we remain open to it.” Clarissa gave the woman a curious glance. “Were you thinking about this in a personal way? Are you contemplating a dramatic change in your life?”
Mrs. Gunn blushed and looked almost girlish. “Don’t know how dramatic it is, but I did have a date yesterday afternoon. The first I’ve had since Mr. Gunn died ten years ago.”
“How nice,” Clarissa said, smiling. “Were you out with anyone I would know?”
Mrs. Gunn nodded. “Joe Morgan. He’s a member of the church. I don’t know if you remember him.”
Clarissa nodded. She pictured a tall, gray-haired man with a kind face who had greeted her warmly each Sunday she had preached so far. “He seems like a nice man,” she volunteered.
“He is. At least I think so. We haven’t been seeing each other except at church up until now.”
“Have you ever thought about remarrying?”
Mrs. Gunn paused. “For a long time I couldn’t bear to think of the idea. Adjusting to living with another person just seemed more trouble than it was worth. Mr. Gunn and I got along pretty well, but the early years took some work, and I just didn’t feel I could go through that all over again.”
“But now you do?” Clarissa asked.
“Let’s just say I’m willing to consider it,” Mrs. Gunn replied. “Joe is a pretty accommodating sort, and I guess I’ve kind of gotten tired of living alone. A lot of women my age are determined that once is enough. A boyfriend is all right, but they don’t want the responsibility of a husband. I know Joe would like for us to get married. But things like this seldom run in a straight line. It took me a couple of years before Mr. Gunn managed to convince me to marry him. Of course, I haven’t as much time now to be making up my mind. But the security of having a husband sort of appeals to me.”
“I can understand that.”
“How are you and your young lawyer doing? Have you made things up?”
“We’ve taken the first step. We’ve agreed to go out again.”
Mrs. Gunn nodded wisely. “At your age you need to be part of a couple. Just be real careful when you make your choice.”
Clarissa didn’t know how true that first part was, but smiled anyway. “I intend to be,” sh
e told the older woman.
After breakfast, Clarissa walked over to the office and checked the answering machine. There were a couple of notifications from family of members in the congregation who were in the hospital, so Clarissa put it in her schedule to visit them a bit later in the week.
A few minutes later, Ashley came into the office. “How did your visit with Raymond Blanchard go yesterday afternoon?” she asked as she settled in behind her desk.
“It was worthwhile. I think I’ve got another clue.” Clarissa gave her a summary of their conversation.
“Do you think Raymond’s son George could be the one who killed Royce Llewellyn?” Ashley asked.
“He had a motive and a rather weak alibi, so I suppose it’s possible.”
“But that would mean that Harry is the one who killed Ames and Jack Spurlock.” Ashley looked dubious. “I can imagine Harry doing a lot of unsavory things. I can certainly imagine him paying blackmail to protect the family name, but killing two people seems like a stretch. He seems more sneaky than dangerous.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Clarissa said, “but you can’t be sure what someone will resort to when they’re desperate. I guess the only way to find out is go and question him.”
“Will he even see you?”
“I think so. His grandfather promised to put pressure on him. When I ask him to meet with me, I’ll say that it’s just part of my efforts to visit everyone in the congregation.”
“But if he is a killer, do you think it’s wise to go alone to accuse him of being one?”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me if I made it clear that people knew I was meeting with him.”
Ashley shook her head. “Harry is volatile. He acts before he thinks, so he might attack you in a fit of temper.”
Clarissa paused. “You might be right, but I can’t really bring along Detective Baker. Harry would be furious if he thought I’d gone to the police with my unsubstantiated suspicions. He’d get a lawyer, and we’d never find out anything.”