Murder at Longbourn

by Tracy Kiely

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll call him first. Besides, I can’t go right away. Linnet has invited Aunt Winnie and me to lunch tomorrow.”

  “I know. Aunt Winnie told me. I didn’t think she was particularly close to Linnet. What’s the reason for the visit?”

  “Officially, it’s just a social visit, but of course that’s only a pretense. I imagine that Linnet extended the invitation to appease Jackie’s curiosity. Jackie probably thinks that we’re a source of information about the investigation.” I smiled. “The irony, of course, is that that’s precisely why Aunt Winnie and I are going—to see what we can learn from Jackie.”

  “What makes you think she knows anything?” He stretched his long frame back onto the bed. Raising himself onto his elbows, he stared straight into my eyes. If it had been anyone other than Peter, I would have thought he was trying to flirt with me.

  “Well, you have to admit that she has a special knack for gossip,” I said. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s managed to uncover an awful lot about everything that’s going on in this town since she’s arrived. And there’s something else. When we were leaving Lauren’s the other day, she seemed upset by something.” I sighed and rested my head against the back of the chair. “I know it’s a long shot, but if Jackie knows something that might help Aunt Winnie, then I’ll have lunch with her every day of the week until the murderer is caught.”

  Peter nodded and tried to suppress a yawn. I stood up. “All right. I’m going to bed. Which,” I added dryly, “means you can, too.”

  “Wait, you didn’t tell me what happened with Daniel.” Peter scrambled into an upright position. “Did you find out anything about his relationship with Lauren? What did he say?”

  I gritted my teeth and opened the door. “He said lots. But if I repeated it, it would only make you blush.”

  Peter scoffed. “The inane mutterings of some poncey Englishman might make me laugh, but I seriously doubt they would make me blush.”

  I was tired of sparring with him. I was tired, period. Without another word, I shut the door behind me and walked down the hall to my room.

  Before I went down to start breakfast the next morning, I called Detective Stewart from my room. Sitting in the wingback chair, I nervously traced the floral patterns of the fabric with my forefinger and practiced what I was going to say. But as soon as I heard his gravelly voice on the line, my mind went blank. Instead of a concise description of last night’s events, I blurted out, “This is Elizabeth Parker. I found a necklace.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Hello, Ms. Parker,” he finally said. “And this concerns me how, exactly?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I think it may have something to do with the murder.” I rose from my chair and walked around the room. The floor’s wood planks were cold under my bare feet, but the pacing helped my nerves.

  “I see,” he said noncommittally. “Would you like to come down to the station to discuss it? I could meet you here around noon.”

  I thought of the luncheon with Linnet and Jackie. I couldn’t risk missing it on the off chance that Jackie did know something. “I can’t meet you then,” I said. “How about later this afternoon? Will you be in your office then?”

  “Let me see.” The sound of papers shuffling as he flipped through his calendar floated over the line. “I’m going to be out of the office most of the afternoon. Why don’t I meet you at the inn around four o’clock?”

  “No. Not here. How about at the Flowering Teapot? Can you meet me there at four o’clock?”

  “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But what is this about, Ms. Parker?”

  “Last night, I found a necklace outside. It looks expensive. It was half buried in the snow. It’s engraved with the initials V.A.B. No one at the party has those initials.”

  Detective Stewart coughed, or maybe he was just trying not to laugh. “Just because it doesn’t have one of the guest’s initials on it doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong to any of them. People inherit engraved jewelry and silverware all the time.”

  “Then why has no one come forward to say it’s been lost?”

  He did what sounded like deep-breathing exercises. Finally, he said, “What were the initials on the necklace again?”

  “V.A.B.,” I said quickly, hope rising in my chest. “So you’ll check it out?”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  Relief swept over me. “Thank you. In the meantime, what should I do with the necklace?” My bare feet had had enough of the cold floorboards. I moved my pacing to the warm braided rug.

  “Where is it now?”

  “With me,” I said, reaching up and fingering the delicate pendant, which now hung around my neck. My voice dropped a notch. “Why, what do you think I should do with it? Hide it?”

  “Nothing as dramatic as that, although I would avoid wearing it, of course.” I instantly dropped the pendant, wondering if the man could somehow see through the phone. “Just bring it with you this afternoon,” he continued. Through the phone line, I heard a gruff voice suddenly boom out, “Hey, Al, we got something on that tape.”

  Detective Stewart said, “Hold on a sec, Paul. Ms. Parker? I’m going to have to put you on hold for a moment.” I heard a click, but I was not on hold. I could still hear everything being said. Detective Stewart spoke first. “What did you find, Paul?”

  “The tape we found in Ms. Reynolds’s office is definitely a match to the tape found on the body.” Paul’s voice was hard to hear; he sounded far away from the phone. I pressed the receiver into my ear. “Do you want me to get a warrant for her arrest?”

  The room spun. I clutched one of the bedposts for support and almost missed Detective Stewart’s response. “No, not yet,” he said. “I want to dig around a little more.”

  The faceless Paul was evidently displeased with this. “Jesus Christ, Al! What the hell are you waiting for? We found the tape in her office! We know that Gerald was trying to push her out of her inn and we know that she’s got an assault record! She admitted that she turned off the lights. What more do we need?” Paul may have been far away from the phone, but he was now yelling so loudly that it was easy to hear his every word.

  “I understand your frustration, Paul,” said Detective Stewart, “but I don’t want to rush to an arrest until I’m sure.”

  “What else do you need? Her bloody footsteps leading to the body? A signed confession? If we don’t get this resolved soon there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” snapped Detective Stewart. “The mayor’s been calling me every hour for an update.”

  “Then do yourself a favor and arrest Ms. Reynolds.” A door slammed. Detective Stewart angrily drummed his fingers on his desk next to the receiver. It sounded like a stampede of horses. After a long pause, there was a click and he got back on the line, seeming not to realize that I’d never been off.

  “Ms. Parker?”

  I took a deep breath. “My aunt did not kill Gerald Ramsey, Detective Stewart. I don’t care what evidence you have. You’re wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?” His tone was angry.

  So was mine. “If you found reflective tape in my aunt’s office,” I said, “then someone is trying to frame her.”

  “Were you eavesdropping?” he exploded. “This is police business and you have no right—”

  I cut him off. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t put me on hold!”

  “You should have hung up as soon as you realized what had happened!”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He swore. I ignored him and continued. “You’re wrong, Detective Stewart. My aunt is innocent.”

  He sighed and said, “For your sake, Ms. Parker, I hope I am wrong. I’ll see you at four o’clock.” It was the unexpected kindness in his voice that really scared me.

  Numbly, I went downstairs to start breakfast. I let my hand slide down the wide banister, taking comfort in the feel of the smo
oth wood against my skin. Around me the inn was quiet, and I stood for a moment on the landing hoping that the peaceful atmosphere would soothe my jumbled thoughts. Aside from Lady Catherine, I was the first one down. Under her watchful gaze, I prepped two trays of miniature blueberry muffins. I had just pulled them from the oven when Aunt Winnie came in. The change in her appearance just since last night shocked me. Lines of fatigue were etched into her face, her eyes were dull, and her movements seemed sluggish. She wasn’t even wearing her usual tailored clothes. Instead she had on faded jeans and a red sweatshirt that read SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED. I couldn’t bring myself to burden her with the knowledge that Detective Stewart thought he had new evidence against her. It would be cruel to worry her with it. I would just tell her that I was going to meet him to discuss the necklace and nothing more.

  “Aunt Winnie!” I cried. “You look exhausted! Why don’t you go back to bed? I can handle breakfast.”

  She yawned and poured herself a large cup of coffee. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she took a long sip and said, “I’m fine, honey. I’m just a little tired, is all. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Lady Catherine leaped up onto Aunt Winnie’s lap and nudged at her hand. Mechanically, Aunt Winnie stroked her long white fur.

  “Why don’t you go back to bed and lie down for a while? Do you want me to call Jackie and Linnet and cancel?”

  “No,” she said, before taking another sip. “I want to go. I have a feeling that Jackie knows something. I want to find out what it is.”

  “All right, but on one condition. You go upstairs and rest. Peter and I can handle breakfast.”

  I expected her to fight. Instead, she put a hand to her eyes and gently rubbed them. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly and a short nap might help. Thanks, sweetie,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know what I’d have done this weekend without you and Peter.” Still holding Lady Catherine, she stood up. She shifted the cat up over her right shoulder, picked up her coffee, and walked out.

  Moments later, Peter came in. Sniffing the air appreciatively, his brown eyes quickly sought out the tray of small blueberry muffins. Reaching out a long arm, he grabbed one and popped it into his mouth. “I just saw Aunt Winnie,” he said through a mouthful. “I guess it’s just us this morning.”

  “Yes, I sent her back to bed,” I answered, watching Peter eat a second muffin. “She looks completely worn out. I’m afraid that this is starting to take a toll on her. After all, she’s not a young woman.” I pushed his hand away as he reached for another muffin.

  “Elizabeth,” Peter said patiently, “she’s just tired—hell, we all are.”

  “I don’t know, Peter. I’m really worried.”

  Awkwardly, Peter put his hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

  “I called Detective Stewart this morning to tell him about the necklace, but he didn’t seem all that interested. When another man came into his office, he thought he put me on hold, but he didn’t. I heard him discussing the case. They found a roll of reflective tape in Aunt Winnie’s desk. It matches the tape they found on Gerald. I’m supposed to meet him at four. I’m hoping that I’ll learn more from him then.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re meeting with him? Why you? If he’s going to meet with anyone, shouldn’t it be Aunt Winnie?”

  “I asked him to meet me,” I said. “I don’t think I should tell Aunt Winnie about the tape—at least not yet. I’m just going to tell her that I’m meeting him about the necklace.”

  “Elizabeth,” Peter said, “don’t underestimate her. She’s stronger than you think. I’d back her against Detective Stewart any day. What did Detective Stewart say about the tape?”

  “Just that they found it in her office. I told him about the necklace and he said he would check it out and let me know what he found out.”

  Peter looked thoughtful. “Do you want me to go with you?” He reached for the muffins. Mechanically, I shoved his hand away.

  “No,” I said. “I need you to stay here.”

  “You got it,” he said, adding, “although I think that a task as boring as that deserves a treat.” He stared at the muffins.

  “All right.” I handed him one. “But don’t you worry about gaining weight and all that?”

  Peter smiled at me as he popped it in his mouth. “I have a high metabolism.”

  I looked pointedly at his stomach. He sucked it in and grinned at me. Rolling my eyes, I handed him the coffee tray. “No comment,” I said. “Here, take this out and set it up. I’ll be right out with the rest.” Peter left and I quickly piled the remaining muffins on the tray with sliced melon. Taking a deep breath, I followed him.

  Breakfast was a strained affair. Daniel was nowhere to be found, which was fine with me. As I surreptitiously watched Joan and Henry, I noticed a tension between them. They hardly spoke to each other. Henry stared moodily out the window with worried eyes.

  I knew how he felt.

  CHAPTER 16

  Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different

  from you and me.

  —F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

  A LITTLE BEFORE noon, coming down to meet Aunt Winnie, I found Peter in the foyer sitting in the green brocade chair normally favored by Lady Catherine. His long legs stretched out in front of him, he was munching happily on an enormous sandwich and reading The Maltese Falcon. He waved the book at me. “Thought I might get some ideas on sleuthing.”

  “Don’t tell me you see yourself in the role of Sam Spade.”

  “Why? You don’t?” He pulled his face into an expression I could only assume was meant to suggest Bogart. It failed miserably.

  “You really shouldn’t make that face. Ever. To be honest, I see you more as a Hastings or a Watson. A kind of idiot savant, but without the savant.”

  Peter opened his mouth in protest, but Aunt Winnie emerged from her nap then, ending our conversation. She looked much better. She had changed into a bright red wool skirt and a green-and-black cardigan. Black boots with four-inch heels completed the ensemble. There were still faint circles under her eyes, but the spring in her step was back—insofar as there could be a spring given the absurd height of her heels. On the way to Linnet’s house, I was so relieved at Aunt Winnie’s improvement that I yelled only once—well, twice—about her driving.

  Linnet’s “cottage” sat high on the dunes and backed to the beach. Designed to look as if it had been gracing the property for centuries, it was in reality only a few years old. A low stone wall ran on either side of the private driveway and along the sloping grounds. The house itself was equal parts white clapboard, black shutters, and sparkling windows. While it was probably in the same price bracket as Gerald’s, this house had a charm and grace that Gerald’s larger and more ostentatious one lacked.

  Aunt Winnie rolled the car to a stop in the circular driveway just as Jackie opened the front door. She waved at us enthusiastically, her smile bright beneath yet another hat. This one was soft yellow cloth with a wide brim flopping down around her face. I realized that I had never seen Jackie without a hat and wondered if she’d been ill and on chemotherapy. That might explain the hat and the apparently dire circumstances that brought her to live with Linnet. Of course, it also might just be a part of her persona—like her insatiable thirst for gossip.

  Aunt Winnie and I got out of the car and walked to the door.

  “Oh! I’m so glad you two could come!” Jackie gushed, stepping aside to let us in. “Linney is so excited to see you.” I was hard-pressed to imagine Linnet Westin excited about anything, least of all a luncheon with two women she barely knew, but I said nothing. After handing over our coats, we followed Jackie down a short stone-floor corridor into the living room, where a faded green-and-gold Oriental rug swallowed up our footsteps. The room resembled a layout from a design magazine. The tall windows were festooned with tan-and-cream-striped curtains that cascaded to the floor and ended in silky puddles. Fres
h flowers spilled out of antique lacquered vases. A fire blazed in the great stone fireplace. On a large sofa upholstered in heavy brocade the color of barley sat Linnet Westin. She rose like royalty to greet us.

  Just as she had been on New Year’s Eve, she was perfectly coiffed. Her flawless makeup, a tad heavy for my taste, and her rose-colored cashmere sweater and cream wool pants gave her an elegant and deceptively modest appearance. The only change in her façade was that she now wore large and frankly ugly tinted glasses. She smiled in full hostess mode and greeted us politely. “Welcome,” she said with a slight incline of her synthetic silver head. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” Self-consciously, she raised her hand to the glasses and said, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, but my eyes are light sensitive. I have special prescription contacts, but I can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

  In response, Jackie ducked her head. “I’ve searched for them everywhere, Linnet. I just can’t think what happened to them. But I know I didn’t throw them out.”

  Linnet pressed her red lips together in a tight smile. “Never mind, dear. I’m sure they’ll turn up.” She gestured to two identical chairs patterned in gold-and-cream silk. “Would you like a drink? Some white wine, perhaps?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Aunt Winnie. “That would be lovely.”

  “And you, Elizabeth?” she asked.

  “I’ll have the same, please.”

  “Fine.” She turned to Jackie. “Jackie?”

  “Oh, nothing for me now, Linney,” said Jackie, starting to sit down on the couch.

  Linnet’s smile was small and tight. “No, dear. Would you mind getting the drinks, please? I’ll have a glass of wine, too.”

  Beneath the folds of her hat, Jackie’s face flushed crimson.

  “Why don’t you let me get it?” I asked quickly. “I’d be happy to play bartender.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth, but that’s not necessary,” said Linnet. “Jackie knows where everything is.”

  “Yes. Have a seat, Elizabeth,” Jackie said as she stood up. “I’ll only be a minute.” Without another word she left the room. Sensing my disgust, Aunt Winnie shot me a quelling glance. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that we were here to learn what we could from Jackie and Linnet. The dynamics of their relationship was not our concern.