by V. M. Burns
Detective Pitt stared at the suitcase. “Going somewhere?”
“I’m going home.”
“We’re investigating a murder, the murder of your employer. You can’t just leave town.”
“Well, I can’t afford to stay here.” April folded her arms and flopped down on the bed.
“I’m sure my mom will be happy to let you stay in her guest room,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure how Mom would feel about April staying. After all, she might have been involved with Lydia in fleecing her. Not to mention the fact that she could also be a suspect in a murder investigation.
Fortunately, April declined my offer. “Thank you, but I’ll figure out something.”
Detective Pitt asked April common questions. “Who do you think would want to kill Lydia Lighthouse?” “Can you recall anything she might have said that might help us find her murderer?” Etc. etc. Based on the way he asked the questions and April’s response, he was obviously rehashing the same questions he’d already asked. I tried to focus in the hopes she might reveal something in her body language, but I was distracted when a loud crash came from the room next door.
“What was that?” Detective Pitt asked.
“It’s coming from Lydia’s room.” April stood and walked toward the connecting door.
I tried to think of something to prevent them from opening the door, but my brain froze.
Suddenly, the doorknob was opened and a large African American woman with a short afro, dressed in a maid’s uniform, opened the door. “Excuse me, folks, I was just cleaning and dropped something.” She smiled.
Detective Pitt relaxed.
“I hope I didn’t scare y’all too badly?” Mable smiled again.
“No. Not at all.” Detective Pitt waved her off.
“Well, I’ll just lock this door so I don’t bother y’all.” She closed the connecting door and we heard the lock slide into place.
I held my breath and waited. When April returned to her seat, I released the breath and relaxed.
Detective Pitt kept at it for about thirty more minutes. I couldn’t tell if he made any progress or had learned anything new. April was as much of a mouse at the beginning of the interview as she was at the end. There was only one moment when I noticed any real change in her demeanor and that was when she was asked about specific individuals. In fact, when she was asked about Rudy Blakemore, I noticed a flush come over her and she seemed more awkward than before. Obviously, the mouse had a bit of a crush on the caterer.
April looked at her watch. “Detective Pitt, I’ve answered your questions and I’m tired. I need to—”
“Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?” I looked as kindly at April as I could.
When Detective Pitt didn’t object, April sighed and sat back down.
“I was just wondering how Lydia selected the subcontractors she used? I mean, you aren’t from North Harbor, so how did she find caterers and florists?” I smiled and prayed I sounded like an inquisitive potential bride.
“Well, the wedding planning community is pretty small. You attend bridal expos and conferences and circulate within that community. Over time, you meet the same people at different shows and you make connections.” She colored as she gazed out the window. After a few seconds, she must have realized she was daydreaming. “Also, you get referrals from other wedding planners in the area that you trust.”
“Is that how Lydia knew who to call?”
She nodded. “We met Rudy . . . I mean, Mr. Blakemore, at a show in Chicago and then again in Atlanta, so it was fortuitous and only natural we would use him when we were asked to plan a wedding here.” She fidgeted and blushed like a schoolgirl. She had it bad for Rudy Blakemore.
“One other question,” I hurriedly asked when once again it looked as though April was going to get up. “Were you aware Lydia was blackmailing her subcontractors into lowering their rates while charging the clients full price and skimming the money off the top?”
“What!” Detective Pitt said.
The blood rushed from April’s face and she was instantly pale. She swayed and fell back onto the bed.
I immediately rushed to her side. I patted her face. “April, are you okay?”
“What the devil did you do to her?” Detective Pitt panicked. He paced nervously while I tried to revive the mouse.
“Stop pacing and make yourself useful,” I ordered. “Go into the bathroom and get a glass of water and a damp cloth.”
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and quickly texted Nana Jo that April fainted and to come immediately.
She must have been waiting in the hallway, because, within seconds, she was knocking on the hotel door.
Detective Pitt came out of the bathroom and stared at me.
“Open the door. It’s Nana Jo.”
“What do we need that busybody for? We need a doctor or a nurse.”
“Nana Jo grew up on a farm and she learned about herbs and things. Plus, she used to work with the Red Cross during the war.”
Apparently, the Red Cross changed Stinky Pitt’s mind. He quickly turned and opened the door.
I don’t think I’d ever seen Detective Pitt so glad to see my grandmother.
Nana Jo rushed into the room and immediately took charge. She pulled up April’s eyelids and checked her pupils. She shook her vigorously while lightly slapping her face. “April, are you on medication?” She turned to me. “Get some pillows and elevate her feet so they’re above her heart.”
I took the pillows from both beds and put them under her legs.
Nana Jo pulled a small vial from purse and took the lid off and waved it under April’s nose.
The vial did the trick and April came around.
I sighed and looked at Detective Pitt, who was standing behind Nana Jo.
When he saw April move, he said, “Thank God,” and drank the glass of water he’d brought for April.
April tried to sit up, but Nana Jo stopped her. “Hold on. You fainted. Just lie still.”
“I’m fine,” April said weakly. “Could I just have some water? I haven’t eaten today.”
Nana Jo stared at the mouse. “Well, then, our first order of business is to get some food into you.” Nana Jo picked up the phone and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken soup from room service. When she replaced the receiver, she turned to April. “How far along are you?”
I didn’t think April could get any paler, but she did.
Nana Jo turned to Detective Pitt. “I’m going to need you to go to find a vending machine and get an orange juice and bring it back.”
Detective Pitt headed to the door. At the door, he turned around, walked back to the bed, gave Nana Jo the compress, and then left mumbling, “Orange juice.”
“And don’t come back without it!” Nana Jo yelled before the door closed.
When Detective Pitt had gone, Nana Jo turned back to April. “He needed something to do. He was getting on my nerves.” She smiled. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
April looked frightened. “How could you tell? Does it show?” She looked down at her stomach.
Nana Jo shook her head and smiled kindly. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you recognize the signs.” She smiled and patted April in the motherly way she had. “Now, what I don’t understand is why the secret. You’re an adult and, well . . . if you want to have a baby, you can have one.”
April stared at Nana Jo as though she’d suddenly realized the earth was round. “You’re right. I am an adult and no one can stop me if I want to have a baby.”
Nana Jo nodded. “Did Lydia try to stop you?”
April looked shocked, but it quickly passed. “She didn’t know, but I knew she wouldn’t approve.” She rolled her eyes. “If you worked for Lydia Lighthouse, you had to maintain the image of respectability and class.” She shook her head. “Having a baby out of wedlock wouldn’t have been acceptable.” She rubbed her belly. “I really want this baby. I was an orphan and grew
up in foster care, and I certainly don’t want that for my child.”
“So, you could have left and found another job someplace else. Lydia Lighthouse isn’t the only wedding planner on the planet,” I said.
April laughed. “You couldn’t tell her that. Lydia Lighthouse was THE epitome of class and dignity. She would have fired me and made sure no one ever hired me,” she said softly. “She could be very vindictive when she wanted to.”
“Quickly, before Detective Pitt returns, why did you faint when I asked if you knew Lydia was blackmailing her subcontractors and stealing from her clients? You knew, didn’t you?”
April nodded. “I knew and I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” I asked.
She hesitated but then shook her head. “I don’t know. I was afraid of what she would do to me and . . .”
“And, to the baby’s father?” Nana Jo asked.
April nodded.
“Is he married?” I asked.
April looked shocked and quickly shook her head. “No. No, Ru—he isn’t married.”
Detective Pitt returned with the orange juice and April’s color also returned. We stayed until room service arrived and Nana Jo made sure she ate every bite. By the time we left, April looked less like a mouse than I’d ever seen her. She had color in her cheeks and her eyes looked bright.
Nana Jo ordered bed rest and promised to check in on her.
When we left, I noticed, for the first time, one of Nana Jo’s pant legs was wet. “What happened to your leg?”
A slight flush crept up her neck, but she merely growled. “I’ll tell you later.”
On the car ride home, I learned what caused the loud crash while the girls were searching Lydia’s room and also why my grandmother’s pants and one foot was wet. Once Mable let them into the room, they decided to divide and conquer. Each of them focused on searching a different area while Mable was the lookout by the door. Having achieved success by locating Margaret’s hidden marriage license in her toiletries bag in the bathroom, Nana Jo decided to focus her efforts on the bathroom. Lydia Lighthouse’s toiletries were sitting atop a shelf over the toilet. Despite Nana Jo’s height, which was five ten, she couldn’t see everything atop the three shelves. So, she climbed up on the toilet seat to get a better look. The crash was the collapse of the shelves. Nana Jo lost her footing and one of her legs slid into the toilet.
When I finally finished laughing, I asked why she didn’t lower the seat before she climbed up.
“I did close the lid.” She admitted grudgingly. “The lid cracked and broke. I lost my balance and my foot fell into the bowl.”
I was still laughing when I pulled into the garage behind the building. Nana Jo, normally good-natured and able to laugh at her own foibles, didn’t see the humor in the situation and marched inside to change her clothes.
Back at the store, Christopher and Zaq had things running smoothly and my head was spinning. So, I went upstairs. Dawson was practicing making roses and leaves on a baking sheet while Angelo was knocked out on the sofa with Snickers and Oreo.
“Where’s Lexi?”
Dawson continued making leaves. “She’s gone with Emma, Jillian, and your mom to check out the South Harbor Yacht Club. Irma’s grandson pulled some strings and they’re going to have the reception there so Frank doesn’t have to shut his restaurant down completely.” He finished his row of leaves and stood and stretched. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course not.” I rubbed my head. “I’ve got a splitting headache. I’m going to lie down.”
He nodded and went back to making leaves.
I downed about four aspirin and lay down. My head felt like it was on a carousel. Around and around words, phrases, and images spun in my mind. Lydia Lighthouse siphoning money from couples and blackmailing caterers. Lydia Lighthouse’s and April’s faces swirled and swirled until I, thankfully, fell into a sound sleep.
When I awoke, my head felt better. Noises indicated Angelo was awake and playing in the main living room. I’d have to figure out what to do about them, but, for now, I was going to wait until I heard back from Jenna.
Even though the headache was gone, I couldn’t get April’s, Lydia’s, and Margaret’s faces out of my mind. I had no idea what it meant. Writing always helped me to make sense of my thoughts, so I sat at my laptop.
“Blasted bad timing, getting himself knocked off now.” Lord William filled his pipe, dropping a good amount of tobacco on the sofa.
“What about poor Percy? Will he be okay?” Penelope asked from her seat on the sofa. Her face looked pale and she seemed genuinely shaken up by the events.
“Dr. Haygood says he’ll be fine,” Lady Elizabeth said. “Thankfully, his wounds appear to be superficial. Apparently, he surprised the murderer and he lashed out at him.”
“Well, that’s good news, at least.” Lord William chomped on the stem of his pipe. “More of that blasted Halifax Slasher. Police need to do more.”
Daphne looked pale. “What are we going to do? The wedding is less than a fortnight away, and now, the wedding planner is dead and the police will be here questioning people and ruining everything.”
James smoked in front of the parlor fireplace. He stared off into space. Although physically present, his mind seemed to definitely not be on current events.
“I thought the police said the Halifax Slasher was a hoax.” Lady Penelope lounged on the sofa. Normally, she would have been full of pent-up energy and pacing the room. Instead, she sat quietly with her head back.
“Somebody needs to tell that to Philippe Claiborne and Percy Waddington.” Lord William chomped. “Dirty blighter is venturing out, expanding his territory.”
“What are we going to do?” Daphne looked around. “Don’t any of you care?”
“Of course we care, dear,” Lady Elizabeth reassured her niece. “Detective Inspector Covington from Scotland Yard should be here at any moment.”
Thompkins opened the study door. “Detective Inspector Covington.” He stepped aside, and the tall, gangly detective entered the room.
Detective Inspector Covington removed his hat and ran his hands through his thick, curly hair. “Good afternoon.”
“Detective, so glad you could make it.” Lady Elizabeth warmly greeted the detective they met when he investigated the first murder the Marshes encountered when one of Daphne’s suitors, an American named Charles Parker, was killed. They developed a friendship when he investigated the other murders the Marsh family encountered. After a number of months, and several murders later, the family viewed Detective Inspector Peter Covington as a family friend.
“Peter, thank goodness you’re here to clear this whole mess up,” Lady Daphne said.
The detective smiled. “Glad to come, but I figured you lot would have solved the murder already.”
His friendly joke fell rather flat and he looked uncertainly around. “What’s going on? Thompkins showed me the body. I’ve got men collecting evidence. The doctor has sedated Percy Waddington, so we can’t talk to him yet, but I want to know what’s really going on.”
Lady Elizabeth sighed. “Well, you’d better sit down while we explain.”
Thompkins entered the room and pushed a tea cart to Lady Elizabeth and then discreetly and quietly left the room.
Lady Elizabeth poured and, while everyone sipped their tea, they each explained what they knew about Philippe Claiborne. When they’d finished, they merely sat and stared at the detective.
“So, Philippe Claiborne had only been here a few days and none of you knew him before he came?”
They all nodded.
“In the span of less than three days, Claiborne managed to insult Lady Daphne, the housekeeper, the cook, and the butler and argued with Lord James and Lady Elizabeth. He was a fast worker.”
Lady Elizabeth pulled out her knitting and shook her head. “I don’t know of anyone who’s made me so angry in quite some time.” She knitted. “I was fully prepared to sack him, exc
ept . . .”
Detective Inspector Covington paused from the notes he was taking and looked at Lady Elizabeth. “Except?”
James tossed his cigarette into the fireplace and pounded his fist on the mantle. “Confounded, man, can’t you see what she’s trying to avoid saying.”
Detective Inspector Covington looked into Lord James’s eyes. “Perhaps you can clarify for me.”
“Lady Elizabeth knows I didn’t get on with Philippe Claiborne, and she’s afraid I murdered the man, but she’s too kindhearted to accuse her niece’s fiancé.”
Daphne gasped.
Lady Elizabeth shook her head. “Actually, the idea you might have killed him never crossed my mind.”
Everyone stared at Lady Elizabeth.
James turned to stare into her eyes. “Why not?”
She finished the row she was knitting before answering. “It’s not your style.” She turned her knitting. “You’re much smarter than that. If you’d murdered someone, I don’t think you’d have been foolish enough to leave the body by the back door where it would be discovered so promptly. I doubt seriously if you’d have used one of our knives, and you certainly wouldn’t have taken the knife away after you’d killed him.” She smiled. “I’m sure you would have supplied your own weapon.” She paused for a few moments. “No, you’re much too smart for this murder.”
James Browning stared at Lady Elizabeth for several moments and then burst out laughing. When he was done, he bowed. “I’m glad you think so highly of my skills.”
“If it wasn’t the duke, may I ask who you do suspect murdered the man?” The detective stared at Lady Elizabeth.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Thompkins said he was stabbed in the back with a knife. He was such an odious and unlikeable man. I fear the list of people who would have liked to kill him might be rather a long one.”
“Well, the coroner hasn’t determined the exact cause of death yet, but it looks like he was stabbed and strangled, but we’ll hold the strangling part back from the public.” The detective stared around the room. “Technically, I shouldn’t have told anyone, but . . . well, I think you’re all trustworthy.”
“Thank you for trusting us.” Lady Elizabeth inclined her head toward the detective. “The fact that some of the wedding guests have already started to arrive makes things worse.”