“How did you start things off with Colin Murphy?”
“I said I was sorry for his loss, then I introduced myself. He seemed to know who I was.” I stopped, frowning. “He even knew Kat had threatened Littleton.”
“Well, you said someone reported it to the police, right? Gossip spreads through this town like wildfire.” She reached out and grabbed my arm. “Oh, oh! Look who just came in.”
I turned. Grace Topping and Devon McIntyre were both framed in the doorway. Grace made a beeline for the podium and the guest book while Devon hung back on the fringe of the room, her eyes darting to and fro. Devon’s gaze fell on me, and her eyes widened slightly. She spun on her heel and hurried back into the hallway. Before I could make a move to follow her, I heard a sharp gasp and then Grace’s voice: “Sydney? For goodness’ sake, what are you doing hiding behind that plant?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leila glide off in the direction Devon had gone. I turned to Grace with a smile. “I’m not hiding. I just—ah—wanted a quiet moment.”
Grace looked toward the front of the viewing room, and a small sigh escaped her lips. “It will be strange, looking at him lying there. Bridge was always so full of vitality and life.” Her gaze fell on the front row and the two people seated there, and her brow furrowed. “I see Petra is playing the grieving widow to the hilt. Sitting there, dabbing at her eyes as if Bridge meant something to her. I doubt they ever really loved each other in the truest sense of the word.”
I was surprised at the vehemence with which Grace spoke. Perhaps their “friendship” hadn’t been as platonic as Grace wanted me to believe.
I smiled at her. “You didn’t see Natalie anywhere around, did you?”
Grace nodded. “She was just leaving as I came in.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I’d best say my final good-bye and offer my condolences to the family.” She reached out and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Take care, dear.”
“Grace!” I caught her arm. “I spoke with Colin Murphy earlier. He said something to the effect that Trey had two hundred fifty thousand reasons to hate Littleton.”
“Did he?” she said thoughtfully. “Well, I could easily see Trey owing his stepfather such a large sum. It would explain why he was so bitter about having to pay it back.” She glanced around and then leaned closer to me. “Trey has—had, rather—a bit of a gambling problem. But he’s getting help.”
With that little bombshell, Grace turned and walked away.
I watched her glide down the aisle toward the casket and then made a beeline for the hallway. As I stepped over the threshold, I ran smack into Leila. “Hey, where’s the fire?” she asked.
“Did you see where Devon went?”
“Oh, yeah. She went outside on the veranda. Stood there for a couple minutes, and then she got a call and whipped her cell out of her bag.”
“Did you hear who she was talking to?”
“I heard her say, ‘Why are you calling me now?’ and then she was quiet for a minute, and then she said, ‘You know why I had to come here. I had to make sure’ . . . and then that was it.”
“That was all she said?”
“No, all I heard. I was trying to get a bit closer when I saw Wantrobski coming out the door. Thank God I ducked back into the shadows before he saw me. He went into the parking lot, but when I looked around for Devon, she was gone.”
“Curious. I’d love to know who she was talking to.”
“Me too. I’m sorry I couldn’t hear more. Did you learn anything from Grace?”
“Actually, I did,” I began, but I stopped cold as I felt a hand drop on my shoulder. I saw the myriad expressions that ran across my friend’s face, and I knew who was behind me even before he spoke.
“Well, Syd and Leila. Fancy meeting you here, of all places.”
I turned. Will Worthington stood there, looking very handsome in a dark-gray jacket and pants, crisp white shirt, and gray-and-black-striped tie. Leila turned her triple-wattage smile on him and leaned forward to envelop him in a hug. “Hey, Will. I heard you’d come home.” She stepped back and surveyed him, her head cocked. “You look fantastic!”
“Thanks. I understand you’re a reporter now. You’re not covering this, are you?”
“Oh, God, no!” Leila waved her hand in the air. “That would be Jim Wantrobski’s misfortune. My beat is fashion shows and garden parties, with the occasional dog show—and cat shelter event—thrown in.”
His gaze wandered back to me, and I made a point of looking first right, then left. “Where’s your charming partner? Don’t tell me he decided not to attend and harass these people in their hour of grief.”
“Bennington couldn’t make it.” Will arched a brow at me. “I do sincerely hope that you just came here to offer condolences, Syd. That you didn’t have anything else in mind.”
I widened my eyes. “Why else would I be here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you thought it’d be a good opportunity to ask a few discreet questions?”
“Isn’t that your job?” I asked sweetly. “Nine times out of ten, the murderer shows up at his victim’s viewing or funeral, right? And it seems to me most of the prime suspects are here, although if Colin Murphy is to be believed, he’s been eliminated from the pool.”
“Aha, I knew it! You’ve been asking questions.” Will jabbed a finger in the air. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not when I know Bennington’s eyeing my sister for murder I can’t.”
“Excuse us for a moment, Leila.” Will grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the exit. We went out into the hall, down the archway, and back out onto the porch. No one else was out there, but Will marched me over to the far corner before he let go of my arm. “Look, Syd, I know you have a natural curiosity, and I know you’re trying to help, but . . . we are dealing with a murderer here. You could get hurt . . . or worse.”
I shook his arm free and took a step back. “I’m glad you called it my natural curiosity,” I said. “Some others might call it a penchant for snooping. Either way, I hope you realize that I can’t just sit by and do nothing, not when I know Bennington’s eyeing my sister as suspect number one.”
“We’re not eyeing anyone as the prime suspect yet,” Will said. “We’re still investigating.”
“I hope you’re investigating the widow,” I said. “I just found out that she’s the beneficiary on Littleton’s very large insurance policy.”
Will started. “How did you find that out?”
“I told you, I’ve got my sources. Money, as you well know, is an excellent motive for murder. Did you find out where Petra was the morning of Littleton’s death?”
“She gave us a statement. Said she was at the gym.”
Something in his tone made me raise both eyebrows. “She said she was at the gym—but you don’t believe her?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, Syd, I really shouldn’t be discussing details of an ongoing case with you, and especially not here.”
I grabbed at his arm. “So let’s go somewhere else and share information—off the record.”
“Even off the record, if Hank found out . . .”
“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
Will stared at me, and then his lips twitched upward in a half smile. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” He took my arm and led me into a secluded alcove just outside the viewing room. “What I’m going to say stays between us,” he said. “You say nothing to Kat, or to Leila, or to anyone . . . not even your cat. Promise.”
I wasn’t particularly sure I could keep the part about not sharing with Toby, but Will didn’t have to know that. I made a crossing motion over my heart. “I promise. And anything I tell you is off the record. You don’t share with Bennington. Right?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Mrs. Littleton told us she was at the gym the morning of her husband’s death.”
I nodded. “That’s true. I parked next
to her car.”
“She was scheduled for a Zumba class, but it was canceled at the last minute. She opted for a massage instead but felt ill and went outside for some fresh air.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Did anyone see her?”
“That’s what we’re still checking on. So far, we can’t find anyone to substantiate that part of her alibi. The masseuse said she looked flushed when she returned.”
I gripped Will’s arm. “Oh my God! It’s only about a five-minute walk from the gym to the gallery. She could have slipped away, injected her husband, and gone back. The brisk walk, as well as committing murder, could account for her flushed appearance.”
“First of all, ouch!” He gently disengaged my fingers from his arm. “Second, we’re aware of that. We’re not ruling Mrs. Littleton out as a suspect.”
I scowled at him. “But she’s not number one, is she? That honor belongs to Kat.”
“I can’t comment on that, but I can tell you this.” Will’s tone became a bit gentler as he added, “You’re forgetting one important thing, Syd.”
“Yeah? What might that be?”
“I know both you and Kat, and I know that neither one of you is capable of murder. Trust me. We’ll find the person who really did it, I promise. Have a little faith in me.”
“I do have faith in you. But if I were helping you, we might get to the bottom of this a lot sooner.” I smiled up at him and batted my eyelashes. Heck, Leila was right. It had always worked in high school.
Will sighed. “What else do you want to know?”
“I spoke to Colin Murphy. He said you’d checked out his alibi.”
“Yeah, kinda tough to commit murder when you’re thirty thousand feet above the ground.”
“What about Petra’s son? I heard he owed his stepfather a lot of money and resented having to pay it back.”
“We checked him out right away. Turns out he’d gone to stay with some friends in South Carolina, and they were about to tee off on the golf course at around that same time.”
“Convenient. Maybe too much so,” I muttered.
He shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets. “We’re looking into every angle, trust me. I won’t let Kat get railroaded for something she didn’t do.”
“That’s a very nice sentiment, Will, but you and I both know that happens to innocent people more than you’d think.”
His expression was grim. “True, but it won’t happen here. I won’t let it. Oh, and before I forget.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little baggie and pressed it into my hand. “Your note. It was just as I thought. There was too much cat saliva to retrieve any useful fingerprints or DNA from it.”
“Great,” I said. I took the baggie and turned it over in my hand. “What about the name? Did you find any connection to Littleton?”
“Not yet. We’re still working on it.” He reached out, chucked his thumb under my chin, and raised my face to his. “Now do me a favor. Go inside, get Leila, and go home before Hank gets here.” As I hesitated, he said in a stern tone, “Or do I have to arrest you?”
The twinkle in his eye told me the last remark wasn’t serious, so I managed to bark out a laugh. “No, I guess we’re done here for tonight.”
“And mum’s the word?”
I made a gesture of locking my lips and throwing away a key. I started to walk away, but he reached out again and caught my arm. “Say, once this is all over . . . maybe you and I . . . maybe we . . .”
I smiled at bit at his discomfiture. “Maybe we can get reacquainted?”
He grinned. “Something like that.”
“Well, how about this. Get Kat off the hook, and I’ll make you a nice home-cooked meal. How does that sound?”
He shook his head, eyes twinkling. “I’d rather take you out for a nice dinner. I remember your cooking, Syd, and I’ve got an idea it hasn’t improved over the years.”
“Smart decision,” I flung over my shoulder as I headed back inside to find Leila. “It hasn’t.”
* * *
Leila and I got back home a little after ten. Toby greeted me at the door with a soft merow and wound his furry body around my legs, then pranced off in the direction of the kitchen, his tail held high.
“Your bud must be hungry.” Leila put her fingers to her lips to stifle a yawn. “Go on, feed him. I’m going to bed. Got a big day tomorrow. Fashion show in Derry—woo-hoo.”
Leila went upstairs to her bedroom, and I followed Toby into the kitchen. The cat twined himself around my ankles, purring and glancing over at his food bowl. I spooned out some of the wet food I’d purchased, then sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and propped my chin in my hands, watching as the cat attacked the food hungrily.
“This is a real puzzle, Toby. In all the mysteries I’ve read, the detective’s rule of thumb is ‘follow the money.’ Nine times out of ten, the killer is usually the person who stands to gain the most from the victim’s death. In this case, that answer’s pretty obvious. It would be Petra, right? She got it all, but she wouldn’t if Littleton had managed to divorce her, would she? I wonder who else would have benefitted from his death. Maybe Colin Murphy, somehow? Darn, I’d love to be a fly on the wall when that will is read.”
Toby glanced up from his bowl. “Ow-owr?”
“Yes, speaking of Colin Murphy—just what were these improvements he wanted to make to the gallery that Littleton was so against? According to Grace, Littleton thought they’d be very detrimental—or should I even worry about it, considering the guy was up in an airplane at the time of the murder?
“Maybe I should concentrate on another strong motivator: jealousy. That might put Devon back into play—and maybe Grace, too. Devon got a suspicious phone call tonight, and Grace . . . well, let’s just say Grace’s feelings for Littleton might run deeper than she let on. Maybe that ‘woman scorned’ aspect Grace mentioned applies to her and not Devon after all. Or who knows? Maybe this mysterious Kahn Lee is a suspect too. If only we knew who he—or she—is.”
Toby padded over, rubbed against my ankles. I got up and started for my bedroom, Toby following right behind me.
It would seem, as far as suspects were concerned, that I was back to square one. There wasn’t one, so far, with a clear-cut motive. Still lots of work to do in that area, but . . . something had to give. And I was hoping for sooner rather than later.
Chapter Sixteen
Around one thirty the next day, Kat poked her head into my office. “Say, feel like going over to the diner? I haven’t had lunch yet. The meeting with the mayor took longer than I expected.”
I could tell from the expression on her face that her meeting hadn’t gone well. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and reached for my purse. “Sure. I could go for a nice club sandwich.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Meeting not go well?”
“Not really. Since no one knows yet just what’s going to happen with Littleton’s estate, we figured we should look into a plan B.” She gave me a tired smile. “Let’s just say there aren’t very many buildings that could accommodate the number of animals we house at the same rent we pay now.”
“There must be something,” I cried. “Surely, once people learned it was for the animals, they’d be more willing to cut a deal . . . right?”
“One would hope.” Kat’s lips twisted into a wry expression. “Bottom line? We need a lot of prayers, we need to scrounge up some major donors, and we need some kick-ass fundraisers over the next few months.”
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, sis. Things usually have a way of working out. This will too—you’ll see.”
She smiled at me. “You sound so confident.”
“You betcha. Now let’s go get some lunch.” I smiled back, wishing I felt half as confident as I sounded.
* * *
I drove my convertible over to the center of town and parked in the back lot of Rosie’s Diner. I glanced at my watch. “It’s a little after two, and there are still a
lot of cars here. Lots of people must be having late lunches today.”
Kat shrugged. “I think her special today is meatloaf. And Rosie makes a mean one.”
We entered the diner, and much to my surprise, most of the tables and the counter were empty. Kat touched my arm and nodded toward a large circular booth near the kitchen. “Looks like we’ve interrupted a conference.”
I followed her gaze. Sure enough, the booth was occupied by most of the square’s shop owners: Natalie, Grace, Buck, Antonio, and Ioan. Kat gave me a nudge, and I followed her as she made her way over to them. “Hey guys,” she greeted them. “Fancy seeing you all here. Is something up?”
“You could say that.” Buck Noble’s head bobbed up and down. He was a short, squat man with a rather prominent nose. “We heard that Littleton’s will was to be read immediately after his interment. Those were his instructions.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s interesting. How did you find out?”
Ioan, a tall, solidly built man with iron-gray hair and shaggy eyebrows to match, spoke up. “From Randy, one of my part-timers. His older brother is a part-time law clerk in Littleton’s lawyer’s office.” He let out a chuckle. “Apparently, law clerks love to gossip—and snoop. The lawyer left some notes from the meeting on his desk, and, well, to make a long story short . . . Petra gets everything.”
“So we want to be prepared,” Antonio Muriello put in. He wiped his hands nervously on the sides of the stained apron he wore knotted about his ample waist. “We thought maybe we should have an impromptu meeting of all the shop owners, you know, just in case it is true, and she decides to go along with what her husband had in mind.”
Rosie came out of the kitchen just then, carrying a large tray of coffees. She set the tray down and started to hand out the mugs. “And they’re here because . . . guess what? Littleton owned this property too! I mean, I make good money, but a 30 percent increase would definitely cut into my profit margin.” She eyed me and Kat. “So, you two want to join the group? Littleton owned the shelter building too, right?”
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