An hour later, in the glow of the candlelit room, Daisy and Rose were sprawled on the couch drinks in hand, a pitcher of Hurricanes sitting on the table, and an ice pack on Rose’s shoulder. Mrs. Hudson sat at the dining room table in a slightly damp robe sipping a glass of water. On the far side of the living room sat Abby Wentworth; hair wild, hands, feet and torso duct-taped to a chair. Roscoe was sitting on a small table to her left, as still as stone, his gaze never leaving her face. Malcolm sat at attention on her right. She looked absolutely terrified.
Rose turned on an old cassette player she had dug out of the closet and said, “I knew this would come in handy someday. Okay, where shall we start? Murder? Blackmail? Ah Mrs. H. Good.”
Mrs. Hudson said, “I feel like this is all my fault, but you have to understand. I was having trouble making ends meet. And then I remembered these old stories about Mattie and Sally. And thought what could it hurt really? They had so much, they wouldn’t miss a little here and there. So I wrote them a note and they paid up.”
“Why didn’t you just ask them for help? Or us? We’d have been happy to help you out.”
“And take charity? I could never take charity.”
Daisy’s mouth fell open. “But you could take blackmail? Wow.” She got up to refill her glass. “How did little Abby get into the picture?”
“A couple of summers ago when she was staying with me she found the ledger where I keep track of everything.”
Abby hissed, “Shut up you fool! Don’t say another word.” Malcolm growled softly and she closed her mouth.
Sarah didn’t look at her niece, she just continued her story. “Abby took over and threatened to turn me in to the police if I tried to stop her. I was so afraid I looked the other way.”
Abby said, “You’ve forgotten to mention the money I was giving you.”
Rose cried, “Mrs. Hudson!” A gust of wind rattled the house and they heard a deafening thud as a tree fell somewhere in the neighborhood. “Abby, why don’t you keep the story going? I want to get this on tape before a tree comes through the roof.”
Abby glared at them. “You’re crazy. I’m not saying a word.” Roscoe hissed and moved closer to her face. “Get him away from me.”
“Tell us what happened and we will,” said Daisy. “Who’s Charlie Taylor?”
Abby was silent. Mrs. Hudson said, “She is. Abigail Charles Wentworth Taylor. She was married for a short time and used her old identification to set up the mail boxes.”
Abby screamed, “Aunt Sarah, shut up!”
“Or what, dear. You’ll murder me like you did that woman in the post office?”
Rose’s voice was consoling as she said, “Abby, we already have you for trying to kill me. And Malcolm is really angry about that. I’d hate to see what he’d do if I let him.”
Malcolm snarled and bared his teeth. Abby yelled, “All right.” She stretched as much as she could backing away from the animals. “All right. That bitch dying was a mistake. I guess you already figured out that your post office box is right next to mine. I had already gotten a day’s worth of your mail. I figured maybe the old bat had put Brad’s card in your box instead of mine. She showed up just as I got the door and I hit her with my dumb bell. It was only two pounds. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
Rose looked at the dumbbell on the floor and said, “Five pounds? I guess this time you meant business.” Malcolm growled. “Good boy Malcolm. Stay close. But we’ve gotten a little ahead of ourselves. Daisy and I, and the police actually, already know that the card belonged to a girl named Margaret Dove and that she died on the Outer Banks in 2008. How did Brad get the card?”
“He stole it from her. How else? Brad and I have known each other since high school. I was with him when he met her at the card show. Of course, he knew right away what that card was worth.”
Rose held up a finger. “Hold it a second.” She poured herself another drink, checked the tape recorder, and said, “Okay, keep going. Did you kill that poor girl?”
“No!” Roscoe hissed and batted her arm with his paw. Abby shrieked, but Rose asked, “Did Brad?”
“Not exactly. He just didn’t help her. I’m pretty sure he was planning to steal the card when he asked her out. They were walking on the beach and she fell into a hole and hit her head. Some idiot had left a cinderblock in it. She was unconscious.”
“Why didn’t he pick her up or call for help?”
“He did. He called me. I met him on the pier and I told him we had to go get her. By the time we got back to where he left her, the tide had come in. It was a huge surf that night and the beach was covered. She was gone. I told him to call the police and then I left. I didn’t see Brad again until he showed up here. When he showed everyone that card, I pretended not to remember it. But I knew he must have taken it from her that night. And I thought, ‘Here’s my ticket out.’ And if that bitch in the post office hadn’t screwed up I’d be in California right now!”
“He must have known you were the blackmailer.”
She laughed. “Brad was never the fastest pitcher on the mound. And I think he loved me.”
Rose shook her head. “Last question. Why in heaven’s name did you kill him?”
“Because he was a freaking moron. After I broke in here…” Roscoe hissed and she cringed, but went on, “I thought I had the card, but the envelope was empty. I knew the card in the frame was a fake…”
Daisy said, “Because of the color.”
“Yeah. Well, I thought he was trying to hide it from me, but then he asks me to meet him by that big old tree in your yard. The idiot still didn’t know I was the one who was blackmailing him. He tells me everything and asks what he should do.” She started laughing hysterically, then burst out in tears.
In between sobs and laughter she managed to get out, “I told him he should give it to me. When I realized he really didn’t have it, I got mad and hit him in the head.”
The sound of the tape whirring in the machine stopped abruptly and it clicked off. Rose said, “Perfect timing.”
They heard banging on the front door. Rose started to get up to answer it, but Daisy said, “Don’t bother. I didn’t lock it. They can just come on up.”
Rose fell back onto the couch and put the ice pack back on her shoulder. “Okeydokey.”
In a minute Bill Greene, followed by Tom Willis, came stomping up the stairs shouting, “Why is your door open?”
The two men stopped short when they came through the door. Bill said, “What the…?”
Daisy said, “The friendly neighborhood murderer was already here, so I didn’t feel the need to lock the door. Nice of you to drop by. How’s the storm? Care for a drink?” She lifted the pitcher and realized it was empty. “Oops, I think we need another.”
Bill said, “You’re drunk!”
Daisy looked at Mrs. Hudson and said, “He’s an excellent detective.”
Bill said, “Daisy, I think you should sit down. Why is that woman taped to a chair?”
Daisy turned and looked him in the eye and said, “Bill, Bill, Bill. First things first. We need a bit more rum.” She turned to her sister, “Don’t we, Rose?”
“Yes we do. Come on guys, sit down. Daisy makes a damned good cocktail. It’s usually my job, but my shoulder is killing me.” She looked at Abby and tittered, “Ha! No it’s not. It is not killing me. So there, you little freak.”
Abby started to say something, but Rose put her finger to her lips and shook her head. “No more talking. It’s all right here.” She tapped the recorder with her toe. Malcolm barked and Abby stayed quiet.
Rose managed to sit up straight. “Bill, Abby was trying to hammer my head with that weight on the floor over there. We thought that was a very bad idea, so we taped her to the chair.”
Daisy came back in with another pitcher. She reeled a bit as she walked past Tom and he caught the pitcher just before she dumped it all over him.
Bill was clearly exasperated. “Could someone tell me what�
��s going on here? Your mother’s calling everyone in town and leaving messages saying she knows Abby did it and you’re not safe.”
“You got a call? Heck, we only got a text message I still don’t know what it says. Here, look at this.” Daisy handed Tom her phone. “See. ‘Abby is JILLDR. She IZ?KN PICGJFRR AITH Magrt DO E. GE LLOK.’ Could you make sense of that? I ask you.”
Rose chimed in, “Of course, by the time we got the message, we already guessed that our little Abby wasn’t such a nice person.”
Abby started crying, “Billy, help me. They’re crazy. They sicced their freaky animals on me and then they attacked me and taped me to this chair. And Daisy dragged my poor aunt over here through all the rain and wind.”
Roscoe hissed, Malcolm bared his teeth, and Daisy and Rose both said, “Oh shut up!” at the same time. Abby shut up. Then Rose continued, “Billy, now let me introduce Charlie Taylor, blackmailer extraordinaire. And duct taper of little dogs. And, of course, the big one-murderer of various people.”
“Tom, please, make them let me go. Get these monsters away from me. I’m begging you.” Abby sounded so pitiful that Tom Willis moved to help her.
Mrs. Hudson spoke up softly. She sounded tired and sad. “I wouldn’t do that Officer. She’s really very dangerous.”
Daisy held out a cassette recorder and handed it to Bill. “It’s all on there. Well, most of it. A fairly complete confession. Seems little Miss All-American, Mom and apple pie here is absolutely terrified of our little furry friends. One little look and she couldn’t stop talking.”
Bill took the cassette and turned it on. Abby’s voice came on answering question after question from Rose and Daisy. He listened for a minute, then turned it off and Abby started sobbing. “None of that is true. I was so scared I just said what I thought they wanted me to.”
Once again, Mrs. Hudson spoke. She didn’t get up, or look at them. “I’m so ashamed. I started this whole thing. I’m a weak, horrible person. But I can tell both of you that every word on that tape is the truth. I’ll swear to it.”
Abby screamed, “You bitch! You nasty, creepy, old woman! No wonder the family can’t find anyone to take care of you.”
She pointed at her aunt with her nose. “She’s the blackmailer. She’s been doing it for years. Arrest her.” Her face was so contorted with rage that Malcolm shrank back. But Roscoe moved closer to her, hissing, his back arched and hair on end. She started screaming hysterically.
“Daisy, move the damned cat. And the dog. Abby’s not going anywhere.”
“Oh, okay.” Daisy picked up Roscoe and said, “That’s my good little guy.” She patted Malcolm on the head, “You, too. Come to the kitchen and we’ll have some shrimp.”
Abby stopped screaming. She sat there looking at Rose with sheer venom in her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut.
Bill was silent for a minute. He turned to Tom Willis. “Watch them. I’m going to listen to this and try to figure out what to do.” He sat across from Mrs. Hudson at the dining room table, put the ear phones in, and listened.
Half an hour later he turned off the machine. He moved over to Abby, took out a pen knife and cut away the tape. She smiled wickedly at Rose and Daisy and was just reaching up to give Bill a hug when he pulled out his handcuffs and said, “Abigail Wentworth, also known as Charlie Taylor, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Peggy Merritt and Brad Douglas.” And then he proceeded to read her Miranda rights.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daisy stumbled down the steps into the kitchen. Sun was streaming through the windows and she could hear power saws already at work in the neighborhood. She looked into the living room and saw Rose on the couch where she had left her the night before. Malcolm, snuggled up beside her, lifted his head inquiringly.
Roscoe was weaving through her legs seeming to decide if he needed to go out more than he wanted to eat. Daisy picked him up and took him down to the back door and let him into the yard. Malcolm heard them and came tearing down the steps, almost knocking Daisy over to get outside.
She stepped onto the porch and marveled at the gorgeous day. It was hard to believe it was such a nightmare just hours before. The sky was a robin’s egg blue filled with huge, fluffy white cumulus clouds hanging so low she felt like she could touch them. The air was soft and balmy, only a light breeze drifted though the treetops.
As she stood on the porch, she surveyed the storm damage. No trees down, but a lot of debris scattered over the yard. And a good sized limb had knocked part of the fence down.
Next door, a large oak had smashed through Mrs. Hudson’s roof. “Too bad,” she thought. She called to the pets, “Holler when you want to come in. I’ve got tuna.”
She wearily plodded back up the stairs and found Rose lighting the Bunsen burner. “Do you have any idea what time it is? The electric’s still out. I’m making tea.”
Daisy looked at her watch. “Almost eleven. I think I’ll have a Pepsi, actually. And some aspirin. How’s your shoulder?”
“Sore. Everything is sore. Remember when we were little and had our first ballet lesson and we could hardly walk for the next week? Well, this is worse. Every muscle in my body hurts.”
Daisy handed Rose the aspirin, then busied herself getting food ready for the critters. “It’s absolutely beautiful outside. Amazing!”
“How’s the yard?”
“Not too bad. A bit of work to do with the fence. Some clean up. That tree we heard went through Sarah Hudson’s roof.”
“Huh. Where did Bill take her, anyway?”
“I’m not sure. I kind of lost track after that second pitcher. Next time I’ll be more restrained.”
Rose said, “Next time? No next time. I think we’ve had our fair share of murdering loonies, don’t you?”
“Speaking of loonies…”
“Helloo-oo.” The front door had opened and they heard Angela’s voice call, “It took forever to get here, but I was so worried and your phones still aren’t working. Tom got through to me this morning and told me what happened. He said you were all right, but I needed to see for myself.” She got to the landing and pulled off her matching daisy print slicker and Wellington boots. “Muddy, everything is quite muddy!”
Roscoe and Malcolm scampered in behind her tracking mud through the apartment and made a beeline for their dishes. Percy brought up the rear, smiling his goofy doggie smile, obviously hoping for a dish of his own.
Angela walked into the dining room carrying a large bag and a thermos. She surveyed her daughters. “Hmm. I can see you’ve had a night. Tell me all.”
She put the bag on the table and said, “But first things first.” In a moment she had arranged a platter of fresh melon, grapes and nectarines next to another of delicate pastries. Out of the thermos came the fragrant aroma of cool mint tea. “You look as if you need rehydration, ladies. Lots of watermelon.”
Rose breathed in deeply and said, “Heaven.” They ate quietly for a few minutes until Angela finally said, “So, was I right? Was it really Abby?”
“You were right. How did you figure it out?”
“I told you in the text!”
“Mother, we couldn’t read your text. Your typing is rotten. And, anyway, the message didn’t come through until after we’d taped her up.”
“Oh my goodness. Well, it was the picture of Margaret Dove with her friends. I told you, something bothered me about that picture from the first time I saw it.
“So last night I enlarged it on the computer and saw that there was another couple standing in the background, hardly visible. It was Abby, I could tell by the red hair, and Brad Douglas. And they seemed to be looking right at Margaret – like they knew her.”
“They did. Not Margaret. Each other. They knew each other from a long time ago,” said Rose. “And Brad was the man Margaret met in Nagshead. Roscoe got the whole story out of her. He’s an amazing interrogator. All he had to do was hiss and it all came spilling out. And we were smart enough to tape it.
”
“Well, I want to know everything.”
Daisy said, “Let’s see. Where to begin? How about BLT#1 – Sarah ‘I’m-just-a-sweet-old-lady’ Hudson. She’s a real winner!”
Rose recounted Mrs. Hudson’s role in the whole mess. Angela shook her head. “Why couldn’t she just live on credit cards, like a good little American? Well, go on. I want to hear every last lurid detail.”
Daisy said, “Okeydokey.”
Rose got up to find ice for her shoulder. Angela asked, “What’s wrong with your shoulder? Do you need to see a doctor?”
Rose winced, “No. It’s just sore. We’ll get to that lurid detail in a minute.”
When they’d finished telling her about Margaret Dove’s disappearance Angela shook her head, “The whole story sounds fishy. Do you think they planned to kill her together?”
Daisy said, “You know, I don’t. I’m not sure how much to believe, but I do believe Margaret’s death was unintended.”
Rose got up and went to the window. She looked out at the bright sky and sighed, “I think you’re right. Abby was definitely a schemer. And I’m sure she and/or Brad were planning on stealing the card. But I don’t think they had murder in mind.”
Daisy said, “And I’m guessing that Abby didn’t think Brad had already stolen it. The next day everyone on the island was looking for the missing girl, but no one mentioned anything about a theft connected to it. So Abby just got out of there as fast as she could.”
Angela put her pastry down. “What horrible people. To leave that poor girl there, on the beach alone!”
“He’d just stolen the baseball card from her. The really stupid aspect of the whole horrible mess was that he couldn’t sell it. It’s not like there are a ton of signed and dated Mantle rookie cards floating around out there. Someone would ask how he got it.”
Angela said, “Well, accident or not, Brad Douglas was responsible for her death. They both were.”
Roses are Dead My Love Page 18