Murder Came Second

by Jessica Thomas

  Then she had her arms around me. “Darling, is it too awful over there? Are you all right? I remember last summer when you—”

  “I’m fine. I may join Snooty in a mug of tea just to coddle my stomach a bit, but I’m all right. She just looks . . . pitiful. All that energy, curiosity, intensity, that inquisitive nose, that tight little mouth . . . just gone, turned into a mannequin doused with red paint.” Suddenly I found myself wishing fiercely that Terese were still alive. “You know, she could surely have used a big dose of humility, and maybe some humiliation as well, but not this . . . not this . . .”

  Cindy held me long and hard and then said, “Go shower, darling, I’ll make you your own little pot of English breakfast tea. No one will ever know it’s Twining’s best. Then I’ll go to work, I guess, at least for a little while.”

  Showered, shampooed and dressed in fresh clothes, I entered the living room to find Cindy and Mom fending off a mutiny. The merry band had decided they would all return to the Brownlees’ to bathe and change clothing, and then go out for a proper breakfast to stabilize them after their ghastly experience. Even Nick had joined them, apparently recovered from whatever had prompted him to sit alone outdoors on a rain-soaked chair.

  They were all talking at once and my mild, “Excuse me, everyone,” had gotten me nowhere.

  “Shut up, all of you, right now!” I banged a metal wastebasket down on the coffee table.

  That got me their attention. “I spoke with Detective Lieutenant Peres, who has directed that all of you go into the dining room and relax until he can join you. My mom has brought pastries, and we have coffee or tea. Lieutenant Peres says he’ll try not to detain you longer than necessary.”

  Only Noel and Ophelia made any attempt to help Mom and me get stuff out onto the buffet. The others sat in sulky silence, although they had no difficulty in making quick inroads on the pastries.

  After asking again about a serving of brandy, Hamlet irritably announced himself ready to leave. He said he needed his morning orange juice, probably with a healthy shot of vodka.

  “You can’t,” I explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. “The police need to learn anything you can tell them about last night and this morning.”

  “I know nothing,” he answered haughtily, “And I can tell them that anytime, anywhere.”

  The others began to grouse along with him, and I sensed another mutiny in the forecastle.

  “Anyone who leaves without police permission will probably have his or her interview held in one of our local cells,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s rich.” Hamlet forced a laugh over what doubtless was a pounding headache. “Why would we be in a cell?”

  “Because you are all murder suspects.”

  “Unfortunate but true,” Sonny agreed from the kitchen doorway. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Good morning, Lieutenant,” they chorused, like the good little children they suddenly were.

  Chapter 19

  Sonny’s voice was smooth and pleasant as he took a seat at the dining table, coffee mug in hand, tape recorder tucked under his arm. You’d think he had merely invited us all to breakfast.

  “As you all are aware, Ms. Terese Segal was fatally stabbed in the early hours of this morning. We have a tentative time of death between one and five a.m.”

  He placed the recorder in front of him and took a bite of Danish. “Now we need to establish a time line of events that took place leading up to the death, and immediately following it. We rely on all of you to help us with that.” He grinned. “And perhaps one of you will even be kind enough to narrow it down to the exact moment for us.”

  Then he offered his most sweet boyish smile. “I want to remind you, that while you are not under oath, lying to the police is really foolish. Hiding something you know or think you know is equally unwise. So please be truthful, and please be forthcoming with any information you may have, or even think you have. We’ll find out in the long run anyway, and then we wonder just why you lied, and we get a little tense.” His smile faded. “And you know how cops can be when they’re tense.”

  Hamlet stood, red-eyed, elegant and condescending to the local cop. “Well, really, Peres, you’re treating us like street corner, lowbrow suspects in a mom-and-pop-store murder. Yet, it is my understanding that there was definitive evidence of a break-in through the French doors. Obviously poor Terese came down for a late snack and stumbled upon a robbery, or perhaps was deliberately killed by some disgruntled local individual. Unless one of us conceivably saw or heard something related to that, which I did not, I see no reason for us to be detained here. It is clearly a matter for the local police to solve over there . . . or not.” He waved in the general direction of the Brownlee place.

  “Where was it you wanted to go, Hamlet?” Sonny asked innocently.

  “Why, back to my room, since neither you nor Paul has shown the foresight to schedule a press conference. I’ll change into something casual and join my colleagues for a suitable breakfast.” He smirked, having put the dumb local in his place, along with our pastries and non-gourmet tea and coffee.

  “Well, Hammy.” Sonny leaned back in his chair. I hated it when he did that, especially when they were my chairs. “The Brownlees’ entire house plus cellar and garage are being searched inch by inch, inside and out, as we speak. The contents of every closet and drawer will be inspected, shoes will be examined. Drains will be disconnected and checked for blood. It will probably be late afternoon before you may be admitted long enough, and in company of a police officer, to pick up some clothes. By then, we hope the real estate agent, Ellen Hall, will have found you places to stay for a few days. You will not stay—nor would I think you would wish to—at the Brownlees.”

  154

  He began to set up the tape recorder. “Let’s start with you, Teri, since you were the first one down this morning. We’ll try to make it fast and painless, just like your favorite dentist.” His smile was gentle. Teri still looked terrified and an inch away from tears.

  I closed the sliding doors between living and dining room, so Sonny and the interviewees would have real privacy in that direction. Then I retired to the kitchen with Mom, and closed the door to the dining room and the shutters to the pass-through. Of course I tilted the shutters so we could see and hear through them with ease.

  Everyone except Teri settled uneasily in the living room, a motley looking crew if ever I saw one. Especially Elaine, still barefoot in her rumpled gown with its streak of blood along the hem. Cindy had earlier equipped Teri in a pair of her jeans, a shirt and mocs and had offered Elaine a similar outfit of mine, as being more likely to be a reasonable fit.

  According to Cindy, Elaine had sniffed that she would “prefer not to be indebted to Alex” and would wait until she could fetch her own clothing. It looked like a long wait, and I pondered making another proposal. I decided against it. I was not in the mood for temperamental actresses. Perhaps later I’d get Mom to make an offer. Maybe Elaine would be more amenable to that.

  As I tuned back in, Sonny was asking Teri where she’d been about eight o’clock last night.

  “We were all at the amphitheater. Paul had called for a full cast and crew run-through to check the light cues and music cues, starting at six p.m. It was going along the way they usually do— that means lousy,” she said. “We worked until around eight, when it started to rain. Then we all huddled in the dressing rooms, damp and freezing, waiting for it to stop. Finally, about nine, Paul said the hell with it, we’d pick up where we left off this afternoon—I mean today—at two. So we all scattered. Most of us hadn’t had any dinner, and that wasn’t helping.”

  Sonny lit a cigarette from a pack I had thought was on the kitchen table. I was strongly tempted to go in and retrieve it.

  “So where did you scatter to, Teri?”

  “Back to the B&B. I was hungry but not very sociable. Nothing about this play has gone well. Some p
eople say that means a good opening, but I guess I’m not that sophisticated yet. It scares me. I was tired and I asked Horatio and a couple of the stagehands to drop me off on their way downtown in one of the vans. They said sure, no trouble. Noel had already asked them to take him home, so they took us both.” She cupped her hands around her coffee mug as if she were chilled, leaned down and took a noisy sip.

  “Where did Horatio and his friends go after they dropped you and Noel off at the house? Do you know?”

  “Yeah, they said they were going to Bocce’s for spaghetti and then to the Crown and Anchor for a little mischief. I don’t know where they get the energy.” She sighed.

  “What did you and Noel do when you got home?”

  “Like I said, I was exhausted and jumpy.” She was sounding irritable now. “Noel found some salami and cheese and asked if I wanted him to slice me some. I told him no and just picked up a pear and a banana and went upstairs. I ate the banana and took one of my panic pills and went to bed and passed out.”

  “Then what?” Sonny must have felt like he was trying to pull teeth with tweezers.

  “Then nothing. I slept. Woke up about six, starving. This sounds crazy, but now I really wanted some of that salami and cheese. I decided to go get some and bring it back to bed. I went down and saw the . . . red stuff near the refrigerator. I thought someone had spilled tomato juice, and not bothered to clean up the mess . . . but then I—I saw her. And I guess I started screaming and then Elaine was there. And then your sister. Then I was over here and Cindy was making me drink coffee.”

  “Okay, thanks, Lady Ophelia. You’ve been a help. Just one more question, do you know if any of the people at Brownlees’ wear work boots?”

  She looked totally lost. “I dunno, I don’t think so. Maybe some of the stagehands, you’d have to ask them.”

  Sonny stood. “Okay, thanks again. Ask Elaine to come in, would you?”

  He remained standing until Elaine came in and took a seat. Once again he turned on the Peres personality. “You’ve had a terrible morning, I know, Elaine. We’ll try to move right along here and then get something comfortable of my mother’s for you to wear for the time being.”

  “That would be most kind.” She nodded. She sat rigidly erect, face composed, her ramrod-straight spine four inches from the back of the chair, just like royalty. Only her eyes were a giveaway, alert and ever moving like an animal sensing danger from an unknown source.

  At Sonny’s question, she recounted the rehearsal and the rain. “I guess it was about nine,” she continued, “Paul gave it up. He mentioned that he and Terese were going to the Landfall for something to eat. David asked if he and I could come along. I wasn’t thrilled to be a member of that foursome.” She shrugged. “But I was hungry, so I went along.”

  “Was there any unpleasantness at dinner?” Sonny asked.

  “No. Paul and Hamlet got off onto can-you-top-this tales of funny stage disasters that had happened to them. Terese was cuddling up to Paul. The three of them were drinking quite a bit. I was tired, I just ate.” She reached out for a cigarette, and Sonny politely lit it for her, followed by one for himself. I tried to think where I might buy a carton and have them charge it to Sonny.

  “When we were finally ready to go, I insisted on driving home,” Elaine said. “The others were quite incapable. Paul and Terese were in the backseat doing God knows what. Hamlet was in front with me, dozing, I think. Anyway, when we pulled up, Paul and Terese headed for his room, joined at the hip and drooling.” She gave a disgusted little spitting sound.

  “Hamlet and I went upstairs to our rooms,” she continued. “I took a sleeping pill, and that was all I knew till Ophelia awoke me sometime around six.” She took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, finished with her tale.

  “Thank you, Elaine. That would seem to be all for now.” Sonny extinguished his—my—cigarette. “Oh, by the way, does anyone at the house wear work boots?”

  “No-o-o.” She pursed her lips. “None of us at the house. The stagehands do. Some safety regulation their union requires, I think. And of course, that nice groundskeeper.”

  Sonny looked at her as if she had told him the Pope was down at the bookstore signing copies of the Koran. “Nice groundskeeper. You mean Harmon wears construction boots?”

  “That’s right. Harmon. I recall being in the kitchen a couple of times right after the maids mopped the floor. Harmon came up from the cellar and one of them cautioned him not to track the clean floor with his dirty boots. Will that be all?”

  Sonny stood. “Er, yes. Yes, thanks.” He looked rattled.

  He came into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug, and I quietly eased the new pack of cigarettes I had opened into my pants pocket. He poured his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Did you hear that about Harmon? Where’s Mom?”

  I answered the second question first. “Mom’s gone to get Elaine something to wear and will be right back. Yeah, so what about Harmon? He switches from sneakers to work boots whenever he mows or uses the edger. It makes sense. I guess the boots have steel toes.”

  “Yes, that makes sense! Much safer.” He sounded relieved. “I wonder why he was in the cellar? Getting some yard tools, I guess.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “They’re all kept in the garage, over Nick’s vociferous objections. Early on he and Harmon almost had a knockdown over that, though I notice they’ve gotten friendlier lately. I saw them out back having a soda the other day. Seemed quite chummy. I’ve no idea what’s in the cellar . . . oh, yes, I do know one thing. Carla Brownlee told me they locked some silver in a closet down there.”

  “That’s nice,” he murmured absently. “Well, back to the grind.”

  158

  Entering the dining room, Sonny found Noel already seated at the table.

  “Hi, I figured I was next, so I came on in.”

  “That’s fine.” Sonny was already sounding tired, and he had a long way to go. “Anything of interest you’d care to share?” He clicked on the recorder.

  “Probably nothing that means anything,” Noel answered, “But I’ll have a shot at it. I guess Ophelia told you we came back to the house together. She took some fruit and went upstairs. I sliced some meat and cheese for a sandwich and grabbed a couple of cans of beer. That will usually put me to sleep, along with TV. At least I hoped it would.”

  “Why did you hope that?” Sonny’s voice was super casual.

  “Oh, I was overtired, for one thing, and paradoxically, the more tired I am, the more I can’t get to sleep. It had not been a good evening. Our little orchestra had gotten about one cue out of four correct. And that was in the first act. The lights weren’t rigged right for a couple of scenes. Everybody was cross, and then the rains came. I was hoping for a good night’s sleep and a bright new day.” He smiled wryly. “So much for that.”

  “Yes.” Sonny did not return the smile. “By the way, what did you do with the knife after you made your sandwich?”

  “Tossed it in the sink.” Noel paled. “Oh, God, was it . . . was it the one?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Shit.” Noel lifted his coffee mug with a trembling hand.

  “It makes no difference,” Sonny said. “It would have happened anyway. I was just curious where the killer found his weapon. Anyhow, you made your salami sandwich . . . ?”

  “Yeah, and it’ll be awhile before I make another! Well, I was getting out the beer when Paul’s car pulled up out front. I heard Elaine and David say goodnight to the others and go upstairs. Paul and Terese came through the kitchen, clinging lovingly to each other and bumping into things along the way. They were really blotto. I don’t think they even saw me. At any rate, they didn’t speak. I scooted out, went to my room and settled down to an old John Wayne oater.”

  “And dozed right off?” Sonny prompted.

  “Well, no.” Noel shifted uneasily in his seat. “Look, Sonny, this is embarrassing. You see, my window is right above Paul’s, and they wer
en’t exactly quiet. But I think you should ask them about that, if you think it’s pertinent.”

  “I’m asking you. Nothing’s private when someone is killed.” Sonny loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. He was not having fun.

  Noel let out a noisy sigh. “Okay. They were playing a bit of slap and tickle, as the Brits would say, and having another drink from the sound of it. Then they settled down to business.” He sighed again.

  “Look, Sonny, I tried to concentrate on the movie, but I judged—I can’t remember every word of this—I judged from what they both said, Paul was having some major trouble . . . ah, performing. Lord, Paul would kill me if he knew I was telling you this.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Sonny laughed. “One’s enough. Go ahead.”

  “Easy for you to say. Well, at first Terese seemed to be understanding and was apparently trying very hard to be of assistance. God, I feel like some sort of Peeping Tom, Sonny! But I guess whatever she was doing wasn’t helping, and she got snotty.”

  Noel paused and seemed to collect himself. “Paul yelled back that he’d been working for sixteen hours and what did she expect. She said she’d expect better than this from a drunken eighty-yearold. He said maybe her toy boys could get it up on demand, but that he needed a little feminine charm. And on and on. Finally she slammed out into the kitchen. I heard cabinets bang and glasses rattle. I think she got a bottle of booze and maybe a glass and stomped up the stairs.”

  “Did she make it to bed?” Sonny asked.

  “Depends on how you look at it.” Even Noel was laughing now. “David still had his door open. He’s a fresh air freak. Freezes us all half the time. Terese called out, ‘Want a drink, sailor? I’m pissed and I’m horny.’ He said something like, ‘Sure, why not?’ She went in and the door closed.”

  Sonny’s eyebrows were rivaling Cindy’s in disappearing into his hairline. “My God, what a busy little bee! Well, at least you got some sleep.”