Murder at the Mansion

by Janet Finsilver

  I looked at the label featuring a delicate greyhound with a flowing red scarf, a Pegasus-like wing tucked against its side. “I do. It’s from the Flying Dog winery. The sampling of their merlots you poured for me provided an educational afternoon on flights of wine.”

  “Cheese, cheese, cheese. Wonderful cheese,” Andy sang as he unwrapped and sliced a couple of exotic-looking cheeses. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Not tonight, but thanks. Scott’s bringing dinner from the market, and we’re going to relax a bit.”

  “Ahh . . . the business at the mansion. I understand. Nasty stuff.” Andy shook his head.

  “Did either of you have any interaction with Sylvia Porter?” I decided not to complicate matters with her real name.

  Phil began to open the bottle of wine. “Very little.” The cork popped as he pulled it. “She was abrasive at times but certainly nothing to kill over.”

  Andy put the finishing touches on his tray. “That was my experience of her as well. We were at the Heights doing some prep work for the festival. She asked me questions about cheese. At times there seemed to be a very sweet person amid her difficult demeanor.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Andy busied himself over a plate and then put it on the counter. “Here’s a little something for you and Scott.”

  “How sweet of you.”

  The cheese monger pointed to a wedge of light yellow cheese. “Pecorino Toscano, made of sheep’s milk. Many people describe it as sweet and nutty. It’s PDO—protected geographical indication—meaning it has to come from a certain region in order to use the name.”

  I reached into the cupboard above me and pulled out crackers, along with a small wicker tray. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

  “The other one is Cantalet and AOC designated, which is basically the same as PDO. One’s Italian, the other French. It’s produced in Auvergne, France. Made with cow’s milk. It ages wonderfully, but the wedge I brought with me isn’t going to have that chance.”

  I lined the container with a green cotton napkin and arranged a variety of wafers in it. “It’ll be a wonderful way for us to start our dinner.”

  Andy opened a second bottle of the Flying Dog wine. “And here’s a gift from me as well.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  Andy and Phil departed with their cheeses and wine for the parlor, and I set the table for Scott and me. As I was putting the napkins down, Helen, Tommy, and Fred came in.

  Helen put the bag she was carrying on the granite divider. “Hi. Looks like you have plans for tonight.”

  “Yes, Scott’s doing another market special.”

  “Well, that’s a great place. Lots of organic and local food in what they make.”

  “I know. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I bought a few things we need for tomorrow. I’ll get them put away and then we’ll go next door.”

  Tommy jumped onto one of the counter stools. “Did I hear you say Mr. Scott’s coming over?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  As if on cue, Scott appeared at the back door. I could see him through the window. I opened it, and he deposited a bag on the counter.

  “Mr. Scott. Hi!” Tommy raced toward Scott.

  “Hi to you.” He gave Tommy a big hug. “And you, too,” he said as Fred nosed in for his attention. His tail wagged like a furry metronome.

  “Do you want to see my new Legos?” Tommy asked.

  I remembered the memorable night Scott and I had spent in Helen and Tommy’s cottage. Scott had been surrounded by Legos and animal posters as he was being the good sport and sleeping in Tommy’s room.

  “I’ll pass tonight. I promise I will before I leave town.”

  Helen picked up her purse. “Come on, Tommy. It’s time for our dinner.”

  They left, and Scott and I were alone.

  We began to unpack the grocery bag. Scott stopped and put his arm around my shoulders. “This has been a rough time for you.”

  His touch felt light and warm. I glanced at him and turned away quickly from the look of care and concern in his eyes. The tiredness, the stress threatened to leap out of the place I’d been keeping it penned in and flood through my body, my mind. I took a deep breath. Determined to keep it corralled, I stepped away, busying myself opening containers—and breaking the moment between us.

  “There have definitely been some uncomfortable situations.” I grabbed several serving dishes from the cabinets. “I’m glad we’re doing this. Thanks for suggesting it.”

  Scott emptied one of the containers into a blue-and-white ceramic bowl. “The stir-fried shrimp looked particularly appealing.”

  I agreed with him as I placed it on the table. It was full of red and green bell peppers and what looked like shiitake mushrooms mixed in with large shrimp and a sprinkling of peanuts. A complex blend of spices filled the air. I put the brown rice and green salad next to it.

  “We can’t forget the fortune cookies.” Scott put two on the table.

  I put Andy’s cheese tray out and poured glasses of the deep red merlot.

  Scott picked up our glasses and handed me mine. “Here’s to your new beginning at Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.”

  We touched glasses and took a sip. The wine had a soft, fruity flavor.

  “I’m so excited to be here,” I said.

  “I’m looking forward to hearing why you made the decision to become a manager and leave your position, which would’ve taken you around the world.”

  “Happy to share.”

  We served ourselves in companionable silence.

  When we were settled and had begun to eat, Scott asked, “So how is it a village on the coast of California appeals more to you than trips to international resorts?”

  I speared a forkful of arugula and spinach, beets, and feta cheese. “I grew up on a ranch and went to school in a small town. The town’s people helped each other. There was a real community feel. I have a big, loving family, and many of the ranchers and townspeople were like extended family. I want to travel, but I want my home to be about people as well as a place.”

  “I had such a different life.” Scott sipped his wine and sat back. “Dad worked for a large corporation, and we’d stay a year or two in one place, then we’d move. We lived overseas on several occasions.”

  “How was that for you in terms of friends and school?”

  “I didn’t develop any strong relationships with other kids. Mom always wanted the best schools for me, and a few times that meant boarding school when she couldn’t find anything local that met with her approval.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “I was okay with it. We went to some fun places and stayed at nice hotels while Mom was working out housing.” He set his utensils down. “I love my parents, and they love me, but we’re not close like a lot of families. Dad worked long hours, and Mom kept busy with all the moves.”

  “How often do you see them?”

  “A few times a year. We usually have Christmas together.”

  “What’s that like?”

  Scott laughed. “Mom unfolds the three-foot-high white vinyl Christmas tree she got in Japan, puts it on the coffee table, decorates it with small two-inch baby blue bulbs, and makes a reservation for Christmas dinner.”

  I just about choked on my wine. “No real Christmas tree?”

  “Nope. She’d be happy if she could figure out a way to keep the bulbs on it when she packs it up.”

  “And eating out?”

  “She always got our reservations in early.”

  “What about the smell of Christmas? You breathe Christmas, not just look at it. Oh, my gosh, you missed the smell of Christmas.” I was shocked someone could grow up without that special experience.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The scent of pine mingling with roasting turkey and pumpkin pies baking.” I realized I was on a soapbox and decided I’d better get down.

  “Tell me what your Chris
tmas is like.” Scott raised an eyebrow and smiled at me, faint lines crinkling around his eyes.

  “Well, it’s Christmas season with a special Christmas Day in it. You live Christmas with your family and friends. It encompasses weeks of neighbors coming by sharing baked goods and stories of what’s happened during the year. Mom puts up two trees, a huge one in the living room and another one in the dining room. The family decorates them together. Presents pile up—mostly practical items and often handmade.”

  “Who’s in your family?”

  “I have two brothers, a sister and brother-in-law, my mom, my dad, and my grandpa. My sister had twins a few months ago, so I’m an aunt. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. There’s just me.”

  “What are your parents doing now?”

  “Dad still does some work for the company. Mom participates in fund-raising and plays bridge. They live in New York City.”

  I toyed with my dinner. “Have you ever thought about settling in one place for a while?”

  “I’ve thought about it. I don’t really know what that’s like. This traveling position has been a perfect fit for me.” He sipped his wine. “Michael has been wanting to do something more with the company retreat outside of town. He’s hinted he’d be interested in me creating and handling something. We’ll see.”

  Scott here in the area. I’d like that, even though part of me said to not get involved with someone again. I’d loved my ex-husband with the depth of a first true love and had lived with the certain knowledge we’d be together forever. The stunning sense of loss and biting pain when it came to an end was like nothing I’d experienced before. I wasn’t ready to risk going through it again. I wondered if I ever would be.

  Scott’s phone beeped. He read for a moment. “It’s Michael. He wants us all to meet tomorrow at ten.”

  I stood and started to pick up dishes. “I can be there.”

  “He talked to Sylvia’s supervisor. Sylvia felt the attack on her was by the jewel thief and nothing personal regarding her. Wrong place, wrong time. She wanted to stay to see if she could help solve the crimes and felt she’d be safe by being extra vigilant.”

  We looked at each other.

  “Poor woman,” I said. “She was so wrong.”

  Chapter 15

  Scott and I said our good nights, and I finished clearing the dishes. I stopped at the conference room and flicked on the lights. The Silver Sentinels had crossed out many of the inns and circled others in their search for Robert James. “Eight a.m. sharp” in bold red lettering topped one of the charts. I was curious to find out how the day had gone for them.

  As I got ready for bed, I thought about the emotion that had started to overwhelm me at Scott’s kind gesture. It seemed to have dissipated. Stevie and Tina appeared grateful for my help today. I’d hoped someone would help me—and someone did. Scott. I liked him. I liked him a lot.

  There, I’ve admitted it. No more true confessions tonight. No more thinking about Scott.

  I rolled into bed and turned off the lights.

  The alarm did its job waking me at six. I opened the door into the hallway at seven and met the delicious aroma of pastries baking. Reminding myself about something called self-control, I walked a little faster.

  Helen pulled a tray of croissants oozing what looked like dark purple syrup out of the oven as I entered.

  “Wow! Do those smell good.” I poured myself some coffee.

  She placed them on cooling racks. “Thanks. They’re for the Ridley House. We’re keeping a sideboard of food out until late morning, in addition to the morning breakfast. Something extra under the circumstances. Luckily, I had these in the freezer.”

  The circumstances being Sylvia’s murder and the relocation of the guests. I wondered how that was going.

  “Good morning, Miss Kelly,” Tommy said from his stool at the counter as he shoved his spoon in his bowl for more cereal.

  Fred pulled himself up and wagged his way over for petting.

  I rubbed Fred’s silky ears. “Same to you, Tommy.”

  Helen pulled a bowl of fruit from the refrigerator, placed it in front of me, and put a basket of home-baked wheat bread on the counter. “Tommy, finish your breakfast, and I’ll drop you off at school on my way to deliver these pastries.”

  “Okay, Mom. Can Fred come along for the ride?”

  Helen tousled Tommy’s light blond hair. “Sure. He’s always good company.”

  Tommy left and returned with his backpack. Helen took the baked goods to her car, and the three of them piled in and took off. The place was suddenly quiet. Other than in my quarters, I hadn’t been alone in Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast for more than a few minutes since I’d returned.

  I savored the moment, walking around the large multipurpose room. I already had fond memories of the interactions I had in it with my recently made friends and looked forward to many more.

  A rattling engine caught my attention. I looked out the back window as the Professor’s gold boat of a Mercedes sedan rocked and rolled into the yard. The dapper gentleman got out of the driver’s seat, opened the back car door, and gave his hand to Gertie to help her out. Mary emerged from the other side.

  I opened the back door. “Good morning.”

  “Same to you, my dear,” the Professor said as he closed the car door.

  Gertie tapped her way up the back steps, holding her cane in her bandaged hand. “We’re here and ready to get to work.”

  “I saw your notes. I’m looking forward to hearing what you found out.”

  Mary came up behind Gertie, slightly breathless, plastic container in hand. “We haven’t found him yet, but we feel we have good leads.”

  “Our dear Russian brothers will join us shortly. They do a walk each morning and decided coming here on foot would be their trek for the day.”

  They went to the conference room and readied themselves. I cleaned up the few dishes in the kitchen, went back to my room, and checked e-mail, then went to join them. Mary’s open box occupied the middle of the table. I looked forward to what baked surprise she was treating us with today. Looking in, I saw moist-looking brownies with chunks of chocolate visible on the sides. Right. Remember the self-control words you used this morning.

  Ivan and Rudy had joined them. The fresh ocean air clung to their clothes and filled the room.

  Gertie had a variety of colored pens in front of her. At precisely eight, she picked one up and tapped the table. “Let’s get started,”

  The Professor smiled and turned to me. “Our first order of business is to thank you for the use of the room. It’s perfect for our needs.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  He turned to the charts. “The inns we’ve crossed out have no one even remotely resembling Robert James. The circled ones have possibilities. The question marks indicate places we haven’t heard from them yet.”

  “Yah. So this morning we do stakeout,” Ivan said.

  Rudy shifted in his chair. “We’re going out in teams of two to the places we feel we have the best chance of finding Mr. James.”

  The Professor picked up his pen and began twirling it in his fingers. “Gertie’s picture isn’t very good. We’ll take photos of the possible suspects and have Daniel look at them for identification purposes.”

  “It sounds like you have quite a morning planned,” I said.

  Mary pushed her baked goods toward me. “You need to put some weight on that slim frame of yours. These are double chocolate chunk espresso brownies.” She nudged them closer. “What are you up to today?”

  Chocolate and coffee together. My favorite combination. Resolve raced out the window. I picked up one of the brownies. “There’s a meeting at the Heights.” I savored the chocolate and coffee combination as it melted in my mouth.

  Mary smiled happily as I’m sure my face reflected the divine taste of the treat. “Honey, the Whale Frolic Festival is this weekend, and it starts with a chowder competition tonigh
t. I think you’d enjoy it.”

  The Professor leaned back. “Your guests will want to know about events in the area. This is your chance to learn about this one—and have a little fun. Your return has had a rocky start.”

  “I don’t know if I can. It depends on what happens at the meeting.” I sipped my strong coffee and tasted more chocolate. “I’m not sure what’s expected of me tomorrow.”

  Gertie said, “You can buy tickets at the door. If you go, try to get there early because there’ll be a long line.”

  “Thanks.” I left them to their strategizing and went back to my room. I picked up my fanny pack, which had replaced my purse. It was so much easier to deal with when lugging boxes from the dirty carriage house.

  I decided to take the truck, even though it was a short walk. I might want to bring more things back. As I arrived at the mansion, Daniel pulled in next to me. We got out and headed inside.

  “How’s it going at your place? Having a lot of unplanned guests isn’t what you expected.”

  Daniel grinned. “My staff were all in the area and rallied to the situation. Friends in the remodeling business came together to finish the details. This is such a great community, and I have wonderful friends. I feel blessed.”

  Thoughts of my conversation with Scott flooded my mind. “It’s like that where I grew up.” And I’m thrilled it’s like that here.

  We said no more as we made our way to the manager’s office.

  The Redwood Heights staff was there as well as Corrigan and Scott. People shifted restlessly. The unknown loomed before them. Corrigan had shut the mansion to guests and a murder had been committed.

  Trays of water, coffee, and juice lined one side of the office. Lily, her back to me, poured herself a glass of juice. Her long gray hair had been twisted into a knot and secured with a silver clip. She wore tan slacks and a light green smocklike top.

  Tina and Cindy, dressed in blue jeans and gray sweatshirts with VEGANS ALL THE WAY printed in red on them, whispered to each other in the corner. I smiled at Scott and gave a little wave to Corrigan. Hensley sat ramrod straight at her desk. I settled in a chair near the back of the room.