I sighed with relief even though his tone and attitude were not especially comforting. “I have a feeling there is something fishy about the scene. I’d like to take another look at it.”
He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, but I knew it was not support for my side.
“And now I’d like to point out something else. It’s been almost two days and you haven’t charged Carlo yet. If you don’t have enough to charge him, let him go.”
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, we have plenty to charge him with. We’re just waiting on a couple of tests to come in.”
“It’s illegal to hold him this long, isn’t it?”
The truth was, I wasn’t sure how long the holding period usually was, but it seemed as though this was taking an awful long time.
“Mele, you just let us be the ones to decide how long we can hold your little friend. There are mitigating circumstances. We’ll let you know.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from saying something I would only regret. I took a deep breath and raised my chin.
“And here’s something else. Nigel Champaine has moved up to number one on my list of possible suspects.” I stood up and stared at him coolly. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it,” I muttered as I turned.
“Wait a minute, Mele. Nigel was nowhere near this town that night.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I told him as I walked away. Now if only I had some way of proving it.
Chapter 16
I stopped by the house meaning to get a short rest in before I went on, but something was bothering me and I couldn’t let it go. Those pictures of Christmas parties past—I was glad I’d taken copies with my phone. I put them on the computer and printed them out. It only took a few minutes and then I had the whole gallery to work with. I pinned them up on my work board with tacks, consecutively. Luckily they all had dates on them. I stared at them for a good ten minutes.
Finally I realized what was bothering me. Looking at the changing faces every year was fine, but the ones that mattered, now that I had my focus set on my number one suspect, were the women with Nigel. Who were they and why?
And suddenly, I had a good part of my answer.
“Bebe,” I called out to my aunt. “Come here and take a look. Tell me if I’m dreaming.”
“What?” She came into the office and reacted with surprise to my wall of Christmas pictures. “Wow.”
“Take a quick look. What do you notice about the women Nigel seemed to pair with every time?”
“Well, first off, they were often different.” She looked a little closer. “Oh wait. Those first five years, it was always the gorgeous redhead. Wow, look at her fill out that beautiful fitted dress with the feather white neckline. She was quite a knockout, wasn’t she? What’s her name?”
“Look closer. Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”
She stared for a moment, then turned and looked at me. “That looks so much like a much younger, much more pulled together….”
“Gwen!” we both said at the same time.
“Yes, it’s Gwen. And from the looks of things, she and Nigel were quite the happy couple during those early years.”
“My goodness.” She stared again. “Looking at her now, you would assume she was a good ten years older than he is, wouldn’t you? I knew she’d been invaluable to him, taking care of Jeremy after Chrystal died and all. But I had no idea she and Nigel were also…”
“Lovers?” I nodded. “They looked quite infatuated in those early pictures. As the years went by, I guess his attentions began to wander.”
“We don’t know. Maybe that was true and she sort of gave up. But look at the women who took her place.”
“Yeah. They all look like second rate movie stars.”
“That’s not fair,” Bebe said, slightly scolding me. “They’re all beautiful, each in her own right.”
“But no staying power I guess. No one lasted to a second year except…”
We both looked at the parties for the last few years. “Marguerite,” I said. “Yup, that’s her.” I frowned. “You know, Nigel’s arm is around her but somehow they don’t look like they’re in love. Do you think?”
Bebe nodded. “And look at this.” She pointed out photos of more recent years. “Carlo and Sandy both began to appear once Marguerite was in place. Isn’t that what it looks like?”
“Probably just a matter of timing, but yes, it does seem they all started together.”
“And Gwen, still there every year even though she’s drifted into the background.”
We were both silent for a moment, studying the pictures, feeling the inevitable sadness of time going by and leaving some behind.
“So what’s the take-away?” I asked her.
Bebe pursed her lips. “I say it’s this: Nigel wants a woman around that’s devoted to him at all times. For awhile, it was Gwen. Lately it’s been Marguerite.”
I giggled. “And now he’s giving you the once over. Maybe you’ll be in this year’s picture.”
She snorted. “If he’s not in prison, you mean.”
I laughed, then turned back to the photos.
“Okay, the big picture. Look at the situation from the beginning. Nigel and Crystal married and had Jeremy. Crystal died when Jeremy was five and Sandy was four. Gwen was Crystal’s best friend. Sandy’s mom Lulu was another best friend. They were all one happy little commune with Nigel as their father figure.”
“I don’t know. That seems a little creepy to me.”
“They all worked in the restaurant that Nigel bought and built up by hard work and very little time off. So it was pretty much a family project—and still is.”
“But then Marguerite was a part of things. Right?”
“Yes. How happy do you think Gwen and Sandy’s mom were to have that happen? Not to mention Jeremy and Sandy.”
“Not very.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned at the pictures. “Sandy’s mom isn’t in these last two. Oh that’s right, she died, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Poor Sandy.”
We stared at the pictures a bit longer.
“So are you saying that just about any one of them might have been ready to do whatever it took to get rid of this disruptor in their midst?”
“It’s not beyond the realm of possibilities, is it?”
Maybe not, but I preferred Nigel as a suspect to all the rest put together. He just seemed like a man who needed a comeuppance of some sort.
“Nigel Champaine, murderer.”
Yeah, that pretty much did it for me.
I slept like a log. No Hawaiian music, no visit from ghosts, not even a good dream. I was out like a light and woke up already late for work, so jumped up and called in.
“Late again, Mele?” Vlad, the Impaler, my usually good-natured boss was annoyed. “You’ve been missing a lot of work lately. When are you going to make all this time up?”
“As soon as I get this murder solved,” I told him, and he harrumphed a bit, but I knew he was going to forgive me.
“Unfortunately, I can’t just let you have the day, though. We’ve got that group from Seattle who want to talk to you about our schedule of events for the rest of the year. They’re coming in at 12.”
I sighed. “I’ll be there, promise. Thanks, Vlad.”
That was going to give me little time to check out the murder scene before I went in, but if I skipped breakfast…
And I would have been there in mere moments if I hadn’t caught sight of Ginny Genera, dressed in a bright orange running suit and weaving her hard-working way through the vineyard on one of her usual training runs. I pulled up my car at the end of the row she was coming down, got out and waited for her to reach me.
“Hey,” she said as she came crunching up.
“Hey back at ya’,” I said. “Can you stop a minute or should I run along next to you?”
She laughed. “I could use a short paus
e, and it might as well be now.”
She pulled up beside me and leaned over, breathing a little hard, stretching her legs, and all in a natural way that spoke to her supreme fitness for this task.
“What’s new, Ginny?”
“I’ve been leaving you text messages,” she pointed out. “Got something I think you will want to know.”
I knew she was training for a marathon—she was always training for something. I dug out my cell phone and looked at the window. Sure enough, messages from Ginny predominated.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’ve been running all over the place today. What were your messages about?”
“Your cat,” she said.
That got my attention. “Sami? What? Have you seen him?”
“I did see him. Just a few days ago.”
“Where? What was he doing?”
She pointed up the hill. “I was doing intervals along the culvert for the main reservoir and I thought I saw something black and furry running along the other side. At first I thought it had to be a small bobcat, but then I got a better look and saw those beautiful eyes and I realized it looked a lot like Sami.”
I shaded my eyes. “Up there by the reservoir?”
“Yes. He ducked through a tunnel but I was curious so I followed along on his trajectory and sure enough, he came out at the top of the restaurant compound, near where the waterfall begins. I saw him slip into another dug out area right near that old Valdez statue and I thought I knew where he was going, but when I got there—no Sami!”
She threw out her hands as though his disappearance really perplexed her. “I looked back through that natural walkway he’d just gone into, but there was no sign of him. Somehow he just disappeared into thin air.”
My heart sank. “Well, thanks Ginny. You’re the only person who has seen him for the last four days. At least you give me hope that he’ll be back, wherever he went.”
“I sure do wish you could find him. I always thought he was a pretty special cat.”
I nodded, a little too choked up to speak for a minute.
“Sorry I didn’t see your texts,” I said. “I’ve been completely caught up in this murder investigation.”
“Oh yeah. I hope you can get Carlo off. He’s such a sweetheart and the best chef ever. If he gets locked away, he will certainly be missed by all.”
I smiled. “I’ll tell him of your kind words,” I said. “He’ll probably bake you something as soon as he gets out.”
We both stared at each other as my suggestion sank in, and then we both started to laugh. We just couldn’t help it. The concept of eagerly awaiting fresh product from a man who was accused of poisoning the last thing he’d produced struck us both as funny at the same time.
“Well, I do feel badly about Marguerite,” she said as we both wiped our eyes and struggled to calm ourselves. “I’ve known her since she was a little girl. You know her family used to own all this land many years ago and her grandfather lived here until he died.”
I sobered quickly. “I’d heard something about that. It’s really true then?”
“Oh yes. It was considered tragic when they lost everything and had to sell out.”
“So in a way, this was a homecoming for Marguerite.”
“Well, the family lost the ranch before her father was even born, but I know the pain of that is still strong in that family even today.”
“Interesting.” I looked at her. “So you spend a lot of time training up here near the restaurant?”
She laughed. “Guilty as charged. It’s so tempting to stop in and have a quick snack when the food is so good.”
I gazed at her speculatively. “Do you know Nigel Champaine?” I asked.
“I’ve met him. And I see him up here every now and then, though not as often as you would think. But he does have other restaurants from what I’ve heard so he’s a busy guy.”
I nodded. “Do you ever see him up here at times the restaurant isn’t open?”
“You mean at night?” She gave me a wicked smile. “Oh yes.”
“Coming to visit?”
“Marguerite I would guess.”
So Nigel’s forays in the dead of night seemed to be almost common knowledge. “Did you happen to see him night before last?”
She nodded. “Yes, I did. And I even saw him doing his little trick of disconnecting the security system so no one would be the wiser.”
My jaw dropped. “No!”
“Yes. Oh, I couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t show blatant favoritism without getting blowback from the staff. So when he came to spend a little time with Marguerite, he parked out back and came in by way of the power station.”
And that was how he arrived without us seeing his headlights that night. Talk about stealthy.
“What do you know?” I stared at her, then grabbed her and kissed her on the cheek. “Ginny you’re a treasure! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
Turning, I ran for my car. “See you later,” I called back to her. I was really excited now. I had my proof. Just wait until I had this all wrapped up to present to Roy. He’d have to eat his words—and I was planning to do a lot of gloating!
Or, maybe not. That would be churlish of me, wouldn’t it? Maybe I would be magnanimous in my righteousness. Maybe I would just smile and let him know…
Oh, what was the use. I knew where this was going regardless. Somehow it would go down as a check in his column, not mine! Things just seemed to always work out that way.
Chapter 17
It was almost midmorning when I finally got to the compound. A cool breeze was blowing in off the ocean and the fog hadn’t burned off yet. It was going to be a chilly day.
There were no sounds of morning activities or smells of breakfast cooking. But I wasn’t surprised by that. After all, these people all worked in an industry that existed for the nightlife. Few of them probably got to bed before midnight. Why would they get up with the sun?
I passed Gwen’s silent bungalow, ducked under the yellow hazard tape, and walked up to Marguerite’s front door. This time it was locked and there didn’t seem to be a guard. I looked around and didn’t see any evidence of an onlooker. Pulling my netsuke out, I warmed it in the palm of my hand and whispered a spell. I was in. This magic stuff seemed to be working out pretty well.
The living room looked just as it had when Jill and I had visited two days ago. The chalk outline was still on the floor. I went over the scenarios Carlo and Nigel had each outlined for me, moving through the motions as though I were Marguerite, trying to see what she might have been doing, might have been thinking. I looked through the kitchen and the rest of the little house.
There was really nothing to set my instincts off. All seemed just as it logically would be. Nothing looked out of place.
But there was one thing that bothered me. Nigel had been quite emphatic about having eaten a good chunk of the supposedly poisoned tiramisu and having a cup of tea with Marguerite as well. There was only one dessert plate in the sink. There were no teacups at all. I looked in the cupboard. Teacups were hanging right where they belonged and I didn’t see that any were missing. But I didn’t see that any were used either. Unless Marguerite had washed them out right after he left. But then, why didn’t she wash out her plate too?
It was probably just one of those things. Maybe Marguerite cleaned up right after Nigel left, then ate the last piece of tiramisu and it was the only one poisoned. Then she keeled over dead.
Or maybe they ate the tiramisu right out of the pan and Nigel had brought in tea in paper cups from Starbucks or even Mad for Mocha. I checked the trash. No sign of paper cups, and no tea bags, either. Well. Maybe she used her tea pot. I checked it. It was placed on a high shelf and looked dry and unused, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Quite a puzzle. I went on out and was immediately surprised at how the fog had rolled in during the short time I was in the house. I wanted to go up and look for the outcropping with the spring
again, but the cold was making me shiver.
Just as I turned, I caught sight of Gwen’s back porch and her outdoor jacket hanging there on a peg. Had it been Carlo who said everything she had on that back porch was fair game if anyone needed to borrow it? Why not. Gwen’s house still looked cold and dark and I didn’t want to wake her in order to borrow a jacket. So I pulled hers down and slipped into it. Immediate warmth! I went ahead and climbed the hill.
Unfortunately, I had the same results I’d had before. No matter how sure I was of my directions and coordinates, I could not find that spring. I didn’t have much time to waste. I really did have to get into work as soon as I could to prepare to meet with the Seattle group. With a sigh, I gave up and headed for my car.
The fog was quite thick now and suddenly a figure came out of the gloom, making me shriek, then laugh with embarrassment.
“Sandy,” I said. “You startled me.”
The fog was so dense, I wasn’t sure how far down the hill I’d come.
She reached out and put a hand on my arm. “Mele, I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you something.”
There was a strange intensity in her eyes and it was making me a little nervous—as was the grip she had on my arm. I glanced at my watch.
“Ask quickly,” I said. “I’m late for work.”
“Okay, I just want to….to…” Tears suddenly filled her eyes.
“Sandy, what is it?”
“I…I feel like I have to tell you why I had the poison. I know the police are going to find out about it. I want you to know the truth so you can give me some advice on what I ought to do. Okay?”
She sniffed and I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her. She took it gratefully.
“Of course,” I said. “But you realize I can’t keep anything secret if I think the police ought to know about it.”
Murder and the Secret Spring Page 14