by Valerie Tate
Marmalade padded into the room, jumped on the sofa, settled down on her chest, his head on his paws, and stared reproachfully into her eyes.
“Hi, Marmie. You’re feeling neglected, aren’t you? I’m sorry. Once this murder is solved, we’ll all have more time for you again. I know you don’t care who killed that nasty man, and I wouldn’t either if my prints weren’t all over the murder weapon. Believe me when I tell you, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Stroking his silky fur, she looked at the board to consider the results of their labors.
A long day of tailing Jennifer all over town had produced little in the way of new information. Either she was innocent or she was a lot shrewder than they had given her credit for. Unless Bill Abbot had had an enemy they knew nothing about, Jennifer Abbot was still their most likely candidate for his killer but there was absolutely no evidence that she had done it.
What had Sherlock Holmes said? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ That Jennifer Abbot was guilty of her husband’s murder was definitely quite probable, but proving it seemed to be well-nigh impossible. And without more proof, they still had nothing more than gossip and suspicions.
They needed hard evidence, and as Alicia thawed out, an idea began bouncing around in her brain of how they might just be able to get it. After a little more cogitation and a brief phone call, she called Chris at his office. He had been away for a day on some mysterious business trip to Toronto, and so hadn’t heard about any of their latest exploits in detection.
“Hi, honey, what’s up?” he asked when she’d reached him.
“Is this call being recorded?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Recorded? Of course not. You’ve been watching too many spy thrillers.”
“No, a lot of businesses routinely record phone calls these days and I don’t want to say anything that might be misinterpreted.”
“I think you’re becoming paranoid.”
“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not recording your phone conversations,” she miss-quoted.
Alicia quickly filled him in about tailing Jennifer and their ‘research’ at the shelter the day before, expecting a verbal pat on the back. Instead, Chris was furious that they had accosted Ray Price on their own and told her the new rule was, ‘No confronting murder suspects without Chris.’ Alicia thought that was particularly funny, considering what she had planned, but she agreed on principle.
“Anyway, there’s something we need to discuss and I don’t want my folks to know about it ,so I want you to take me to dinner tonight.”
“Is this just a sneaky way to get me to take you out?”
“No!” Smirking, she thought she didn’t need a murder investigation to do that. “I really have something we need to talk about and I have the perfect excuse to tell Mom and Dad. Since Alex is here for a visit, and I want you two to get to know each other, I thought we could make reservations at the Driftwood Inn. They have great food and there would be less chance of meeting someone we know than here in town.” She had it all worked out. It really wasn’t so difficult being a detective.
“Is this Alex your horsey friend, now your partner in crime?” he asked with a laugh.
“Funny you should put it that way,” she replied, thinking he didn’t know how close to the truth he was. “Yes, and I really do want you two to get to know each other. So what do you say?”
“My pleasure. I’ll call and make a reservation.”
“No need. I’ve already made one for seven o’clock. You can pick us up at six.” And she hung up.
‘Whatever else,’ Chris thought, ‘life with Alicia would never be dull.’
Dutifully, he arrived at the house promptly at six o’clock. The mysterious business in Toronto was quickly explained when he produced an emerald and diamond engagement ring and slipped it on Alicia’s finger. Needless to say, departure for the Inn was somewhat delayed.
Chris and Alex hit it off immediately. He could see why she and Alicia were such good friends. They had the same impish look in their eyes, truly partners in crime. The three of them bundled up and left for the Inn.
Alicia hadn’t included Shae in her plans that night. Her Tony had showed up out of the blue the night before. As soon as he’d heard about the murder, he’d dropped everything to come and make sure she was all right. Shae had described him as ‘computer-nerdy’ but she’d forgotten to add ‘sexy’, sort of like Jeff Goldblum in Independence Day. They were having a romantic dinner for two because he had to go home the next morning. Alicia thought this was just perfect. The fewer people who knew what she had in mind the better.
Half an hour later they were seated comfortably in the lounge at the Driftwood Inn, waiting for their table to be ready. The inn was reminiscent of an English country house - lots of padding and chintz. There was a welcome fire in an enormous hearth. Hunting prints and horse brass on the walls completed the picture.
When their table was ready, they were led to a quiet corner in a bay window with a view of the lake. The tables were laid with crystal and silver, and adorned with vases of fresh flowers. Once they’d ordered, Chris sat back to enjoy his drink and the elegant ambiance, but Alicia got straight to the point.
“I want to have a look around Jennifer Abbot’s house,” she announced.
Chris’ cocktail went down the wrong way and it was necessary for Alicia to thump him on the back to clear his windpipe. Wiping his streaming eyes, he darted a look around to see if anyone else had heard. “Are you nuts?” he wheezed when he could talk. “That’s breaking and entering. We could go to jail.”
She had obviously given it a lot of thought. “Technically, it wouldn’t be’ breaking’ because we don’t intend to steal anything and people in the country still don’t lock their doors. Just listen to my plan, please.” She gave him her most melting look. Alex covered her mouth with her napkin so that Chris wouldn’t see her laughing. She’d seen Alicia use that look with great success in the past.
Chris downed the rest of his drink and motioned for the waitress to bring him another, then grunted, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“O.K., tomorrow we drive out to the Abbot house and park down the street. Then I call Alex on my cell and give her the signal. She calls Jennifer, saying she’s from the police and asking her to please go to the station as they have some things that need clarifying. Once she drives away, we go to the house. Hopefully, there will be an unlocked door we can get through and have a look around,” she finished, quite pleased with her plan.
Chris looked from her to Alex who merely shrugged and back to her. “And what exactly are we looking for?”
This was the weakest part of her plan. “I don’t honestly know. Anything that would help us prove she killed her husband.” The last was said in a whisper as the waitress brought Chris his drink.
He took a long swallow. “And what happens if we can’t find an unlocked door. Have you been taking lock-picking lessons?” he asked sourly.
“Then we go home and try to find another way to get in the house,” she said practically.
Chris took another long drink. “It’s very risky. What if we’re seen?”
“I know it’s risky but do you have a better idea? It was risky for us to search the APS office, but if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have found Marmalade and proven that Abbot was guilty.” He couldn’t deny that. “And I just want this all to be over. I want us to be able to get on with our lives without people thinking we’re murderers.” She couldn’t decide whether to punch or kick something. Then she thought she really should find an acceptable outlet for those aggressive impulses. Martial arts perhaps; lots of kicking and punching there.
In the end, she did neither; she just took a deep breath and waited for his decision.
He thought a moment and then, surprisingly, turned to Alex. “I have the feeling that if I say no, she’ll go ahead and do it without me. Am I right?” She nodded. “Then I gue
ss I’ll have to go along, if only to keep her out of trouble.” He looked at Alicia. “O.K., I’m in.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“I’m in, too,” Alex said, “but with one small change in the plan. I go with you. I can make the call from my cell. You should have a look-out, just in case.”
Chris and Alicia both tried to talk her out of it but in the end gave in. She could be just as stubborn as her friend.
Chapter 56
Chris picked the two girls up mid-morning the next day in his black BMW, which was less conspicuous than the scarlet Matrix. They had decided that would be the best time - those who were going to work would be long gone, children would be in school, cleaners would be busy cleaning and shoppers would be busy shopping.
Or so they hoped.
And it appeared they were right. There was little traffic and no-one out on the street when they drove past the Abbot house. They pulled up a few houses further on and parked facing away from the house. Alex was in the back seat with her cell phone ready.
The relentless on-shore wind had finally taken a breather and a gentle two inches of snow had fallen overnight. Lawns, trees and roof-tops wore blankets, beards and toupees of glistening white, filling even the most jaded of Dunbarton hearts with child-like wonder, a feeling that would be replaced by something else entirely with the projected fifteen inches that was promised over the next few days. Alicia was just thankful that the snow was melting on the road and driveways. She didn’t want them to leave any tell-tale footprints as a record of their little escapade in house-breaking.
“Here, put these on.” She pulled two pairs of latex gloves out of her pocket and handed one pair to Chris.
“What are these for?” he asked, watching her put on the other pair.
“Fingerprints,” she replied. “I’m never making that mistake again.”
Shaking his head, he said, “You are into this way too much.”
She flashed him the cheeky grin he loved. “Just put them on.”
The plan was simple. Alex would call Jennifer Abbot, saying she was with the police. She would tell her that they had a few loose ends to tie up in the statement she had given them and ask her to go to the station. When they’d seen her drive off, Chris and Alicia would go to the house and see if they could find a way in without actually breaking in. Alex would keep watch, and if she saw anyone going to the house, would call Alicia on her cell to warn them. It seemed simple and fool proof.
And it worked. Jennifer agreed to go to the police station immediately and shortly thereafter the three watched her get in her car.
“Gee, I feel just like Tommy and Tuppence,” Alicia exclaimed excitedly, a little surprised at their success.
“Who are Tommy and Tuppence?” Alex asked.
“They are a husband and wife detective team. Well, they weren’t married when they started out, but later they were, married I mean. Agatha Christie,” Alicia told her.
“I thought you wanted us to be Nick and Nora,” Chris protested jokingly.
“Who are Nick and Nora?” Alex was getting more and more confused by the turn the conversation had taken.
“Don’t you ever watch anything that isn’t about horses? Nick and Nora Charles from the ‘Thin Man’ movies. William Powell and Myrna Loy played a husband and wife who solved mysteries. He was a police detective and she was an heiress. After they were married, he quit the force to manage her business affairs but they were always getting involved with murders. They drank lots of martinis and she wore beautiful clothes. But I remembered that Nick never wanted Nora with him when he was detecting. He was always locking her up in closets, but she’d get out and take Asta and follow him.”
“Who’s Asta?” It wasn’t getting any clearer.
“Tell her later,” Chris said. “Jennifer’s almost out of sight.”
Once she was gone, Chris and Alicia got out of the car and walked casually up the street to the house and up the driveway, but instead of approaching the front door, they went quickly around the side of the house, out of sight of the street. The patio doors at the back of the house were locked but a side door that led to the mudroom wasn’t.
“I told you so!” Alicia gloated triumphantly as they slipped inside.
“You were right,” Chris admitted.
“Wipe your feet well on the mat,” she said following her own instructions. “We don’t want to leave puddles of evidence.”
He complied and asked, “Now, what are we looking for?”
“I don’t really know,” was her unhelpful response. “Anything that would show a motive: papers that prove she knew about her husband’s embezzlement and the kidnapping, signs that she might be planning to skip town with the loot, blood-stained shoes. You know, stuff like that,” she finished vaguely.
“Stuff like that,” he repeated. “That gives me a really clear picture. No wonder Nick left Nora at home.”
“You look around down here and I’ll check upstairs,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm.
“Be quick about it. It won’t take her long to find out that no-one phoned her from the station.”
There wasn’t much to see downstairs: no computer; no incriminating papers, like a convenient confession, he thought. In fact, no papers of any kind, which was a bit odd. But perhaps there was a study upstairs where the household documents were kept.
“Ali,” he called, using her friend’s diminutive, “is there an office up there?”
She came running downstairs. “Yes, with a paper shredder and a garbage bag full of shredded documents. And that’s not all. She’s packing. Nice luggage. I think it’s Louis Vuitton.”
“Packing? Maybe she’s going on vacation.”
“I don’t think so. It looks like she’s taking everything. All that’s left in the closets is his stuff. I’ll bet she’s skipping town with the rest of the money her husband stole. I think we should warn the police.”
“I don’t think so,” a voice behind them drawled.
Startled, they turned to see Jennifer standing behind them and she was holding a large, wicked-looking ax.
Chapter 57
“Surprise!” Jennifer said pleasantly, shifting the weight of the ax. It was an incongruous accessory to her fur-trimmed snow-bunny jacket, skinny jeans and Button UGGS, the handle an ominous blood-red against the white fabric.
Alicia swallowed, smiled, and tried to sound normal while surreptitiously pulling off the latex gloves. “Oh Jennifer, there you are. We knocked but there was no answer, so we just popped in to see if you were here.”
“No you didn’t,” the other woman contradicted calmly. “You’re here to do what you did at my husband’s office. You’re here to snoop, to pry into things that are none of your business.” An angry tone had crept into her voice.
“I wouldn’t say that what happened in your husband’s office was none of our business. He had our cat. He was trying to steal from us.” Any friendly pretense was gone and the gloves were off, metaphorically as well.
“That damn cat.” She spat the words out. “I kept telling him to get rid of it, to kill it, but no, he knew better. He said he might need to produce it at some time if things went wrong. The fool! He just didn’t have the stomach for it. He was pretty useless that way. It was the same with that other one, Horace. He just let him go. He should have wrung their necks and incinerated their bodies. I’d have done it.” Chris had no difficulty believing that.
She was becoming increasingly agitated. The knuckles on the hands holding the ax were white with tension. “Do you know what he told me I had to do?” she went on, furiously. “He said we had to sell the house and my jewelry, and turn in the cars. He said if he paid the money back, it would go easier on him. As if I cared about that. It was bad enough that he had dragged me to this hole-in-the-wall town. Now he wanted me to give up all my lovely things.” Her face registered the utter shock and disbelief she had felt at the suggestion. “I told him if he’d killed the damn c
at when I wanted him to, they could never have proved that he had done anything wrong. What did I care if he went to prison? Then he said he was going to tell them that I had been in on the whole plan, and that if he went to prison, I would too. That’s when I knew what I had to do.” A cunning look came over her face. “I said I would help him tidy the place up, and we could go home and talk about it. I put on a pair of those latex gloves they use with the sick animals and a smock that was hanging up outside the office, and I pretended to help him clean up. When he turned his back for a moment, I grabbed that stupid golf trophy that he was so proud of, and smashed him over the head with it. Then I hit him a couple of more times just to make sure.” She said this with particular relish.
Alicia got a sick feeling in her stomach seeing the pleasure the other woman felt at the memory.
“It was really quite easy. There wasn’t even that much blood, just a little on the trophy and some on the floor. It was a good thing I’d put the smock on, though, because I got some on the sleeve when I put the trophy back. I wouldn’t have wanted to get any on my suit.”
Chris was trying to edge his way slowly in front of Alicia, hoping that Jennifer was too caught up in her story to notice. She wasn’t.
“That won’t do you any good. I’m planning on killing you first anyway.” The statement was as matter-of-fact as if she were saying, ‘I’m planning on having you over for dinner.’
Alicia was wishing she’d taken that martial arts class they were offering at the Community Center, and wondering if it would be possible for her to kick the ax from her hand anyway.
“You both think you’ve been so clever. Well, I heard about the questions you’ve been asking about me.” She laughed at Alicia’s startled look. “Don’t look so surprised. This is a small town. Everybody talks, especially those old biddies in the tea shop.” She nodded pointedly and Alicia’s eyes widened in memory of that moment when they’d seen Jennifer look through the tea-shop window. She’d been looking at them! She’d known the whole time that they were following her. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you tried to snoop around here too, so I made it easy for you. I even left the doors unlocked so you could get in.”