Wine's Up?

by Wendy Meadows

  The tension in the shop was growing. Hillary wouldn’t tell Preston anything, and Rose could see the man debate with himself about how much he should ask her for. If he asked for clues, he would admit that he needed the help and that was a sore point for any man, let alone a police officer. If he didn’t ask what she’d found out, he would look like he didn’t need her, but he might miss out on clues that he could use. It was a beautiful catch-22 that only a man could get stuck in.

  Rose watched the two, waiting to see how it played out. It was only a matter of who would give in first. Rose was willing to bet that Hillary would win this round. When she glanced at Annabelle, she guessed Annabelle thought the same. She was watching the two of them, just as Rose was, her expression amused.

  Preston sighed. “Are we going to stand here all day?” he asked Hillary. He had to admire her tenacity. Hillary was a strong woman—he’d known that since just after meeting her. Anyone who could pick themselves up again and create a new life in a new town after losing a husband was made of the right stuff, but Hillary was going beyond that. She was headstrong, and that was always attractive in a woman. Unless it was against Preston, in which case it irritated him, too. He wanted her to tell him what she knew, so he didn’t have to ask her.

  He knew if he did, it would look like he needed her help then. Which he didn’t want to admit. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help from a civilian because he’d reached a wall in the investigation and they had no idea who had killed Reginald Danvers.

  “I don’t have time to stand here all day, unfortunately,” Hillary said.

  Preston shook his head and ran his hand over his hair, trying to flatten it. “Neither do I.” He inhaled a deep breath and let it go. “What did you find at the lawyer’s offices?” he asked.

  Hillary frowned, but the corners of her mouth were turning up in a smile. She couldn’t help it; Preston had given into her, and she felt smug about it. A man rarely asked for help and even though Preston wasn’t admitting it in so many words, three women in the shop saw him concede.

  “To be honest,” she admitted, “not much. I got into the office and looked around, but I couldn’t get to the files in a locked cabinet. All I found were questions on the desk under Reginald’s name about the kind of prenup they had and the will he might have left behind.”

  She felt silly not being able to offer anything more after their little standoff. It made her wish she had more to give him.

  “Those notes were what I asked Mr. Lewis about,” Preston said. “We found out that Reginald and Jessica were throwing around the D word, so I looked up the only divorce lawyer in town and worked backward from there. It’s her alibi of the day, too, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t tell us that.”

  Hillary nodded. “We got that, too.” She glanced at Annabelle. She felt like they had found out nothing. Preston had known everything that the three women had unearthed together, so they had done nothing more than the police had already done.

  “So, we haven’t found anything else?” she asked. Hillary felt deflated. She was sure she had found out some things the police hadn’t known and that had felt good. Now, it came out Preston had known. He’d found it out differently, but he’d known. It was nothing.

  Hillary was wondering why she had gotten involved at all. And she’d dragged Annabelle and Rose into it, too, by talking about it all the time. The women had never objected to being a part of it. It had been an excitement to everyone.

  Preston sighed, and he looked a little deflated, too. It was understandable. It had been a hobby on the side to Hillary, but this was his career. Preston had always made a point of taking care of the citizens of Rosemary Harbor, and when he couldn’t solve a crime—which hardly ever happened—he felt like he was letting his people down. They stuck him with this investigation, with no new evidence and suspects that seemed to have airtight alibis.

  Lauren had been busy, Jessica had been at a lawyer’s office and they had verified it. Their third suspect was Doris. She had insisted that Reginald light the candle. Her reason was valid, but it was suspect. And the dog running out… Doris had worked as a housekeeper for the Danvers for years. Preston had thought it strange from the start that she’d forgotten the gate was open, but everyone made mistakes. Being forgetful wasn’t grounds for arrest. And anyway, why would she have wanted to kill her boss?

  “I’m sorry there’s nothing more,” Hillary said. “I think nothing I found would have been admissible, though. It would be illegal because I was snooping, right?”

  Preston chuckled. “I didn’t even think about that. I didn’t expect you to raid the office itself, I thought you would only hang around to hear what you could pick up from the conversations in the office.”

  Hillary shrugged. What could she say? She committed herself to whatever she put her mind to.

  “I have to get going, ladies,” Preston said. “I have to see if there’s anything else I can find. The further we move away from the murder the less likely it is we’ll find anything more. I need to use all the time I have. He nodded at Annabelle and Rose.

  “I’ll see you soon, Hillary,” he said before walking out of the shop.

  “See ya later, alligator,” Spot squawked.

  When he was gone, Hillary looked at Annabelle and Rose. “That could have gone in a different direction,” she said. It relieved her Preston hadn’t been too upset about what she’d done. She didn’t know if she could get charged for snooping or something, but using the baskets as a front to get into Mr. Lewis’s office had been risky, for sure.

  “He left his hat,” Annabelle said, picking up the police hat on the counter. “You must return it to him.”

  “Me?” Hillary asked.

  Annabelle nodded, smirking. “Yeah, because he likes you.” She batted her eyelashes and she and Rose laughed. Hillary rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. She knew Annabelle was only joking about it because she knew her mother wasn’t serious about dating. The atmosphere in the shop was light despite their failures. Rose and Annabelle went to the back room while Hillary walked behind the counter and retrieved a shelled peanut for Spot. He’d been a nuisance toward the end, but the bird had helped her with a diversion when she’d needed to buy some time and he deserved a treat for that.

  Hillary sighed. She had envisioned herself solving a mystery, bringing Reginald’s killer to justice—if for no other reason than to avenge Jessica’s husband’s death. The poor woman had looked so frail and beaten in the park when Annabelle and Hillary had spoken to her, and Hillary’s heart went out to her.

  Spot nuzzled Hillary’s hair the way he did when she was down. The parrot always seemed to know her mood—it was so much like Matthew had been. Her husband had also told her straightaway if she wasn’t okay and he’d always tried to cheer her up.

  “Can I help you?” Spot asked in a woman’s voice.

  “I’ll be okay, Spot,” Hillary said, scratching the parrot’s head.

  “I want to find out about the money in Reginald’s will.” Now Spot was speaking in a different woman’s voice.

  Hillary gaped at Spot. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you, I’m afraid,” Spot said, using the first woman’s voice again.” And then the other: “I want to know if they can pay the money out before execution of the will? Just a small portion will be all right.”

  Hillary frowned at Spot. The voices he mimicked were familiar.

  “Can I help you?” Spot started again. “I want to find out about the money in Reginald’s will… I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you, I’m afraid… I want to know if they can pay the money out before execution of the will? Just a small portion will be all right.”

  Hillary listened very carefully. She recognized the one voice to be that of the lawyer’s secretary. But the other… Spot kept repeating the short conversation and Hillary tried to place the voice until she flashed on an image of Doris standing at the secretary�
�s desk when Spot had been sitting on the windowsill. Doris hadn’t seen Hillary, or if she had, she hadn’t cared. But Spot had been there the whole time, and he was mimicking the conversation.

  Why would Doris ask about the money from the will?

  “Rose,” Hillary called, and the old woman came out of the back room. Spot kept quiet.

  “Do you know why Doris would need money?” she asked Rose.

  Rose frowned. “To pay off her gambling debt, no doubt. She lost all her savings when Reginald invested her money in a portfolio that went bad. The one I told you he kept bragging about not taking? He’d put her money in that and lost it all.” Rose nodded as if confirming to herself. “Yeah, I think that’s it. Why?”

  Hillary shook her head, trying to put all the pieces together. It wasn’t making sense to her. Doris was in Reginald’s will. And she’d lost all her money…” The pieces fell into place and Hillary spun around, hurrying to the counter.

  “What is it?” Rose asked.

  “I have to find Preston,” Hillary said, grabbing his hat. “Watch the shop.” She flew out the door. Spot squawked something, but she didn’t hear it. Preston was two blocks away, walking down the road.

  “Preston!” Hillary called and ran after him, waving the hat.

  9

  “Wait!” Hillary called when Preston stopped and turned around, frowning. She ran until she reached him and handed him his hat.

  “Oh, thank you,” he said.

  Hillary was breathing hard. She had sprinted to Preston and even though she exercised twice a week with Annabelle, she wasn’t full-sprint-running fit. She leaned her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath.

  “What are you doing?” Preston asked, his face amused.

  “I know what happened with the case,” Hillary said.

  Preston shook his head. “I think you should drop it, Hillary. We’ve found everything we can find. Rather leave this up to the police, now.”

  “No,” Hillary said, and Preston raised his eyebrows at the direct contradiction. “Just hear me out.”

  Preston sighed and nodded. “Okay, hit me.”

  Hillary took a deep breath. “Doris accepted the basket from Rose when she hand-delivered it to the Danvers’s place that day. She said that Doris kept insisting that Reginald light the candle to set the mood.”

  “I heard about that,” Preston said. Going over the clues again would not give them anything more than what they already had.

  “Just listen,” Hillary said. “Doris insisted, again and again. That’s what Rose said. And then the dog got out, causing Mr. Sheffield to run after it right at the time the explosion went off, so he didn’t hear it.”

  Preston frowned. Hillary had his attention now. She was painting a different picture than what he’d looked at until now. “Go on,” he said.

  “Doris left the house to give them space, which was convenient because Jessica wasn’t home yet, so Reginald was alone when the explosion happened.”

  Preston nodded. “I see the parallel you’re drawing, and it makes sense if you put it that way, but we still don’t have proof of any malicious intent. She could have forgotten to close the gate because something stressed her, she could have been sincere about setting the mood and then leaving to give them space.”

  “You’re right,” Hillary said. “She would probably have been stressed about all the money Reginald lost when he invested her savings in a bad investment. One that he told everyone he wouldn’t have dreamed of taking.”

  Preston frowned. “How did you know about that?” he asked.

  Hillary shrugged. “People talk.” People like Rose. But if Reginald had been bragging about his investments, it would have been common knowledge, especially in a town where everyone was in everyone’s business.

  “It has to be very inconvenient to lose all your savings when you’re knee deep in a gambling debt.”

  Preston shook his head. “Just because Doris had a pastime we don’t agree with doesn’t mean she’s in debt.” He knew Hillary was right, but Preston didn’t want to drag Doris’s name through the mud when she had a problem she couldn’t help. Gambling was an addiction that needed professional help just like substance abuse, and it wasn’t grounds for arrest any more than it was to leave the gate open due to forgetfulness.

  “Well, if she wasn’t in debt, why would she ask about the money in Reginald’s will to find out if they could release it to her before the execution of the will?”

  Preston’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about? Where did you hear that?”

  “You told me that information I might have picked up if I overheard something at the office would have been admissible. Snooping wouldn’t have been but there’s no law against overhearing a conversation when I’m in the vicinity, right?”

  “But you heard nothing,” Preston said. He looked confused.

  “I didn’t,” Hillary confirmed, “but Spot did. He has a bad habit of picking up conversations or sounds and repeating them at inopportune moments. Or, in this case, at just the right time.”

  Preston shook his head. “Let me see if I understand this. Spot told you that Doris was asking after the money? Why would I believe a parrot?”

  “Because he mimics voices, Preston,” Hillary said. “It’s like a recording machine. That will hold up in court, won’t it?”

  Preston thought about it for a moment. Everything Hillary was saying made sense—even the part about the parrot’s “recording” being evidence that could be used. Could it be that just when he’d thought that nothing was working out, everything had fallen into place? It was almost too good to be true.

  “Let’s assume all of this is accurate, that your parrot can catch people in the act by mimicking their conversation…it is strange that Doris forgot to close the gate when everyone in town knows that dog is a flight risk. The animal runs away any chance it gets. As far as I know, it doesn’t lie in the garden, see an open gate, and make a run for it. It waits at the gate until the gate opens and then it bolts the minute it’s free. Doris would have noticed that and run after the dog herself, unless…”

  “Unless she’d done it on purpose,” Hillary finished.

  “And Mr. Sheffield can’t help himself. He’s an animal lover. Once that dog is out, he has to run after it, every time. If I lived on that street, I would have just let the animal run away ages ago. No, I wouldn’t have, but you know what I mean.”

  Hillary nodded. She hadn’t known about Mr. Sheffield, but she’d been thinking that someone had let the dog out on purpose the moment she put all the pieces together.

  “I will have to see the parrot repeat the conversation for myself,” Preston said.

  Hillary nodded. “Of course. Come with me, we’ll do it right now.”

  Preston nodded. There wasn’t a moment to lose. If the parrot had said all this, that they had uncovered a vital clue in the last five minutes, they had enough to bring Doris in for questioning again and convict her of the murder. It was horrible to think someone like Doris Tanner was capable of such a thing, but Preston had learned early in his career that nothing was impossible.

  Hillary speed-walked with Preston back to the shop. Rose and Annabelle were curious about what was happening when Hillary arrived with Preston in tow. Rose had told Annabelle that Hillary had run out of the shop and Annabelle had popped her head out of the door just after, confirming that Hillary and Preston had been standing and talking further up the street.

  Annabelle had worried that it was something personal between the two, that she had relaxed about Preston and Hillary not dating when she shouldn’t have. When Hillary walked in, though, she didn’t look infatuated. She looked determined. So did Preston.

  “What’s up, monkey butt?” Spot squawked when Preston stood in front of him.

  “Charming,” Preston said.

  “Come on, Spot, tell Preston what you told me.”

  Spot ruffled his feather. “Polly want a cracker?”

  Pre
ston looked at Hillary. She groaned. Spot had chosen now to make fun of her. It was the worst timing ever.

  “Wait,” Hillary said, diving behind the counter to retrieve a handful of peanuts. She fed them to Spot the way she had when he’d talked. Spot complied.

  “Can I help you?” he asked in the secretary’s voice. Preston exchanged glances with Hillary as Spot ran through the conversation again.

  “That’s impressive,” Preston said when the parrot was done.

  Hillary grinned at Preston. “Do you think it’s enough?” she asked.

  Preston nodded.

  Spot launched into another repeat of the conversation, proud of himself now that he had an audience. Hillary tried to make him stop, but the parrot kept running through the conversation again and again. The shop door opened, the little bell announcing a customer, and Doris Tanner stepped in.

  Everyone held their breath as Doris froze, hearing the conversation. The smile on her face faded, and she looked bewildered. She spun around and tried to yank open the door again, but she bumped against it and couldn’t get out quick enough.

  Preston grabbed her by the arm—easy, but hard enough to make a point. Doris struggled to get away, but she couldn’t.

  “What is this?” she asked, and it sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “I am in debt. I’ve got bad people coming after me and I need the money right now. It’s not wrong when Reggie left me money, is it?”

  “You’re under arrest, Doris Tanner,” Preston said.

  “For what? Being in debt? If that was a crime you would have to arrest almost the entire American population.”

  Preston shook his head. This was the part of his job he hated the most—arresting the perpetrator. He loved being able to solve the mysteries, to close a case, but he hated having to cuff someone and send them to a cell where they would be for a very long time. They punished murderers for taking a human life by spending their own lives in a cell, but it still felt horrible to be the one to do it.