“Nothing, thank you.” Robbins sneezed into the crook of his wet coat, nearly breaking his neck with the recoil. “Well, perhaps some coffee. It’s a miserable night out.”
“You are not wrong,” Seamus agreed. “And let me fetch you a towel.…” Before he leaked all over the very nice dining room chairs which were covered in hand-embroidered silk upholstery.
“Well hell,” Juliet muttered to Esteban, who was closest. Her eyes remained on Owens and Schneider though.
Schneider was as impossible to read as ever, but Edward looked utterly shocked. He did manage to lower his almost empty bowl to the floor when Moira came to kneel beside him, but his hands were shaking and his eyes were blank. Juliet couldn’t hear what she said, but the hand that reached for him was tentative. Both of them were as pale as the finest marble.
Had Moira always tried to be the emotional hinge that held the mismatched Edward and his family together? Or was she simply trying to keep Edward connected to the world so he didn’t fall back into drug use? Whatever her role, she looked positively ill.
“It’s not good,” Schneider said to Edward, his words clear even over the speculative murmurings of the other guests. “But at least we all have alibis. They can’t suspect us this time.”
“Aye,” Moira agreed. “So we’ve no reason to worry, Edward. All will be well now. You’ll see.”
But they didn’t have alibis, not airtight ones. Juliet had often been out of sight of everyone else and she was willing to bet that the others probably couldn’t swear to who had been where at what time. Assuming Carissa died at Blue Period, any of them could have made it over and back without any great amount of time passing, and everyone was wet and muddy from being outside. There was nothing in their physical state to set anyone apart. Reconstructing events was going to be a nightmare and she wondered if the police would bother. They might not if they suspected someone else. Like Talbert.
Had he been in the green car that morning? He might look good on paper, but she still had doubts about Talbert being involved in this killing. It just didn’t fit his style. But then, nothing he had done at Trefoil was his style.
Still, if it wasn’t Talbert, and since PETA hadn’t yet taken to murdering people for wearing fur, that left the most likely candidates for killer right there at Trefoil. Raphael and Moira had especially been isolated since they had been in the house much of the time. And from Raphael’s expression as he looked at Moira, Juliet gathered that he couldn’t completely alibi her, nor she him.
“Next time, let’s go to Disneyland,” she said to Raphael. “I bet no one ever gets murdered at Disneyland.”
“I’m sorry, Edward,” Seamus said, appearing in the door. “Detective Robbins would like to talk to you first. They need to know if she had other family and … well, other things.”
Edward got to his feet using the wall for support. He looked as sallow as the old wallpaper.
“Yes. I’m coming.”
It was hard to read Schneider, but Juliet thought he looked worried as he stared after Edward.
“I—I must see to my pots and pans,” Moira said and left the room. She seemed unsteady.
“I’m going to help with the dishes,” Juliet said, weary but unwilling to sit and watch the fire die while an old lady tried to cope alone with the cleanup. Her hands were sore from the malicious pruning snips, but they would still be able to cope with dishes and maybe the warm water would feel good.
The kitchen was old fashioned not by design but because it was actually old. She liked many things about it, especially the open pantry whose shelves bulged with preserves and jam and whose ceiling was hung with bunches of herbs from the garden.
“Let me help,” Juliet said and picked up a dishtowel which had been embroidered with a kitten. A quick look around the kitchen assured her that there was no dishwasher. They would be at cleanup for hours. Or someone would. Tired as she was, she would be lucky to make it the next ten minutes.
“It’s quite alright,” Moira protested, but her words lacked conviction and only seconds later she handed Juliet a bowl. Juliet thought she was straining to hear what was being said in the dining room. Juliet would also have liked to eavesdropped, but she and Moira were of a generation that valued the observation of social niceties.
“The one who cooks shouldn’t be saddled with cleanup too,” Juliet insisted, setting her dried bowl on the table with the others. They would probably be returned to the china hutch in the dining room after Robbins left.
“Your Raphael was a huge help today. Did you get to have one of his sandwiches? Who would have thought of adding shaved truffles?” Moira was making an effort to sound cheerful.
Her Raphael? Well, she was more of his girl Friday, but it was perceptive of Moira to figure out that there was a bond. Or maybe there was gossip about her and Raphael.
“I did have one—ham. Esteban brought it and it was delicious. Was the meat local?”
“Yes, we have a neighbor who raises pigs.” She glanced at Juliet and then went back to studying her sink full of collapsing suds. “Esteban is a hard worker, a fine man to come and help us like that. And Edward and Schneider…. I don’t know what Seamus and I would have done without everyone coming to help. There wasn’t enough time to hire crew and they were likely all engaged at the larger wineries that still had grapes to harvest.”
Juliet waved the thanks away.
“The hot soup sure hit the spot tonight. And it’s a blessing that one can put it on and then leave it to do other things.”
Moira glanced at her and Juliet kept her face bland as she wiped the antique plate whose glaze had cracked. It was an old and worn piece of Limoges, still beautiful in spite of the wear and tear that testified to a long and busy history.
“It was a day for putting my hand to everything,” she finally agreed. “And Raphael was here to look after things when I had to be away, and blessing upon him for doing it.”
Juliet nodded.
“Well, together we pulled it off. The grapes are in. There will be a fine wine that comes from this effort.”
“It was a good day’s work and no mistaking,” she said fiercely. “Aye, a good day’s work that none of us should regret.”
Eventually it was Juliet’s turn to see the police. She declined to offer her sore hand to the sneezing man and seated herself on the damp chair opposite Robbins where everyone else had sat and dripped.
“Miss Henry?”
“Yes.”
“I doubt that you have anything to add, since you barely knew the deceased, so I won’t keep you much longer. You must be wanting to get out of those wet clothes.” Robbins sounded weary.
He had that right. Her clothes and shoes had begun to chafe. Juliet debated about keeping silent and then decided that she had to speak even if it meant delay.
“You’re right. I haven’t much personal information about Carissa Owens. But I did see Carissa in town this morning while I was at the bakery.”
“Yes?” There was a flash of interest in Robbins’ red-rimmed eyes. “What time was this?”
“It was just after ten. She came out of the office of an attorney.” Juliet pretended to search her memory. “Flatley. I think that was the name. The building was made of brick and there was a fountain.”
“And you don’t know why she was there?” Robbins asked without much hope.
“No.” She could make an educated guess though. “I just assumed it had something to do with her husband’s passing. Anyhow, I followed her back to Blue Period. We were caught in the roadwork on Route twenty-nine and had to crawl along at a snail’s pace until we passed the construction zone. She turned in to the drive for the winery while I went on to Trefoil. Raphael said we were meeting here to help with the harvest because of the unexpected rain. By then it was almost eleven.”
Robbins kept nodding and scribbling.
“One other thing, for part of the trip we were followed by a green compact, a rental, I think. I know it may not mean a
nything since it could belong to one of the employees having a lunch break or just a tourist who pulled off somewhere to take pictures of grapes or something. But since there is nothing out this way but Blue Period and Trefoil and I didn’t see the car at Trefoil….”
“Thank you. This may help establish the—” Robbins stopped. A moment later he sneezed into his elbow, but Juliet didn’t think that was what had made him hold his tongue. She hated sic’ing them on Talbert, if it had been Talbert in the green car. But what if it wasn’t the NSA agent? Or what if it was and he was responsible for Carissa’s death? It wasn’t like it was beyond his emotional skill set to kill someone if he thought they were working against national interests.
“Did you see her speak to anyone else in town?”
“In town? No. Just the attorney—or the man I assume was the attorney. He had silver hair, thin, about six feet tall.” She decided not to mention the argument with Edward and Schneider that she and Raphael had witnessed that morning.
“Anyone else you recognized on the road?”
“No, and I didn’t see any cars coming from the winery when I passed so there is no help with witnesses there. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. This gives us something we can check on. You’ve been a big help, Miss Henry. Thank you for the time.”
“Not at all. I hope you catch this killer soon.”
Juliet felt a small pang of guilt about not mentioning the argument, but she suppressed it. This wasn’t her job. Besides other people probably heard the argument and would tell the police about it.
Or maybe they wouldn’t. It might depend on how much loyalty the employees had to the new owner.
“All done?” Raphael asked as she came out of the dining room. Though she had her own car, Raphael and Esteban had waited for her.
“Done and done in. I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard in my life. Let’s find Seamus and Moira and say our goodnights.”
“It is already done. Moira has gone to bed. But we are invited back tomorrow night for a proper dinner where we will be seated on chairs at an actual table.”
Raphael tried to smile but he was also tired. Juliet could barely lift her arms as Esteban helped her into her still damp coat.
“These shoes are ruined,” she said, looking down at her sneakers. No one would guess that they had once been white. “But it was in a good cause. And they were ugly anyway.”
“I shall get you a new pair of shoes,” Esteban said.
“No, thank you. I don’t care for heels,” she answered, having some experience with Esteban’s taste in women’s clothing.
“You wrong me, Bella,” he protested.
“Not by much, I don’t.” But Juliet smiled at him. Esteban, though quite dangerous in his own way, always amused her.
Chapter 12
Sleep did not come softly. It sandbagged her the moment her head hit the pillow. But for all its suddenness it had not lasted nor been all that effective in knitting up her raveled nerves or aching muscles. Defeated, Juliet rolled from her bed at dawn and went for coffee.
“You’ve been thinking?” Raphael asked as she joined him at their terrace table. The rain had left and warm weather returned, quickly burning off the clouds. The remedy fixed very little in the way of sore muscles or bruised hands, but Juliet was still glad to see the sun. The day before had been nightmarish. Winter shouldn’t happen in a matter of hours.
“Yes, I’ve been thinking. Nothing to worry Einstein, but yes, the brain is busy.”
“And it advises that you visit Talbert?”
“Yes. I wonder if he is at the house? Surely he has had the good taste to remove himself from Blue Period now that Carissa is dead.”
“Talbert show good taste?”
“Yeah, I know. In any case he will probably find me soon enough.”
Raphael raised a brow.
“I got out his little bug which has been sitting in an urn over there and suggested a lunch meeting,” Juliet explained. “I figure that it might come in handy.”
Her prediction was correct. Talbert knocked on her door just before noon. He was not a man that one should play poker with, but Juliet was learning to read him and she could tell that he was angry.
“The police have been around?” she asked, waving him inside the cottage.
“Yes—should I thank you for that?”
“Maybe I am responsible. I didn’t know if it was you in the green car. If not, the police needed to check it out.”
Talbert grunted and pulled out a chair. Juliet set a plate of fruit, meat, and cheese in front of him. The ploughman’s lunch was simple but nice. After a moment Talbert began eating.
“It’s a good thing that I happen to have an alibi. That detective Robbins seemed awful eager to think ill of me and it’s unwarranted. Not that he will believe that until the killer is found. Do you know who killed her yet?” he asked around a mouthful of apple. When she didn’t answer he added, “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?”
“Of course. Thoughts are like vitamins. I try to have one every morning with my coffee. If it’s a good one, I pounce on it,” she said lightly. “I don’t know yet who killed Owens and Carissa. But I do intend to find out. No one is safe when murder gets to be a habit. And since we can’t wait for hard proof to appear we will probably have to go out and find it.”
Talbert grunted again.
“So you think it’s the same person who killed them both?”
“I find that easier to believe than that in our small group of previously nonviolent suspects we suddenly have multiple killers. Wine?” she asked. It wasn’t a Blue Period selection. “Or ginger ale? I’m afraid the choices are limited.”
“Ginger ale sounds good. I just realized how thirsty I am.”
Juliet poured out two glasses.
“I don’t suppose that you kept following Carissa after her jaunt into town?” she asked. “I went straight on to Trefoil and was busy after that.”
“No. I watched the driveway until it started raining. I could see the house and the lights were on in her bedroom, so I figured she was in for the night. I went back to my B and B and had dinner with the lady who runs it.”
“Did you speak to her at all yesterday? Do you know why she saw the attorney?”
“Yes, we spoke twice, but she put me off both times. She was wildly angry about Edward doing something that would keep her from getting an immediate financial settlement which she felt entitled to.”
For the fashion business which was floundering probably. Not enough people wanting to buy dead animals and ripped clothing in unattractive colors.
“Hence the visit to the attorney.”
“I assume so. But I didn’t like the way she sounded so I followed her.” Talbert bit into the Gouda. “I called again that afternoon from the car but she said she had some kind of meeting and couldn’t see me. Love definitely came after money with her. I waited but no one came to the winery and I got to thinking she meant that she had a conference call or something. It was dark and cold and I was hungry. So I left.” This was said with self-recrimination.
“And you think that her meeting turned out to be with the killer?”
“It seems pretty obvious. And that means it was someone who could come and go from Blue Period without exciting comment. And that it was someone she trusted, at least a little bit, since she let them inside the house.”
Juliet nodded agreement. This wasn’t a new thought. There had been strangers around the night Carl Owens died, but strangers wouldn’t have had a reason to kill him. That honor was usually left to the nearest and dearest. Their alien presence only muddied the waters and made things difficult for the investigators.
“No employees around to see anything? No one smoking in the parking lot? No housekeeper or maid or anything?”
“No. And the police seem to feel that Edward and Schneider are out of the running as suspects. Because all of you were having a hoedown over at Trefoil when the murder happened and
alibi each other.” There was anger in his voice. She wished she knew for certain if it were real or simulated.
Juliet thought of their desperate hours of hard labor harvesting the grapes and tried not to be offended at the suggestion that it had been a party. His underlying point was valid and answering anger with anger wouldn’t help anyway.
“The police don’t want anyone local to be a suspect and are not looking too hard at what might be possible if it seems unlikely or unpleasant.”
“So it could have been Edward?”
“It’s within the realm of the possible. I just don’t know how probable it is. He isn’t….” Juliet searched for a word. “He isn’t emotionally equipped. For me, he isn’t a likely suspect. Not as triggerman.”
“No, I suppose he’s not,” Talbert said regretfully. “But Schneider is. That’s a man with a lot of hate.”
“Yeah, but where is the motive? Killing Owens I could see. Killing Carissa? He gained nothing from that.”
“That we know of.”
“That we know of,” she conceded.
Juliet could think of one thing he might gain if Edward were leaning toward a partnership with Schneider and could see his investment being sucked up by bad couture clothing, but she elected not to mention it to Talbert.
“So who do you think killed her? You must have some idea.”
Juliet just shook her head and refrained from speculating.
“Why the silent treatment? You talked enough in Tahoe.” He paused and his eyes widened ever so slightly. “You think I killed her? But why would I?”
“I can dream up all kinds of reasons but none of them are exciting me at the moment,” she said mildly. “Would you care for some dessert? I have an apple strudel. The local bakery is fabulous.”
“You really are cold blooded,” Talbert said. He had said something like this once before but then his tone had been admiring.
5 Blue Period Page 8