Murder at Longbourn

by Tracy Kiely

  Aunt Winnie said smoothly, “This is a lovely place you have here, Linnet.”

  “Thank you.” Linnet sat back down on the sofa. “I like it.”

  Turning to me, Linnet said, “So, tell me about yourself, Elizabeth. I never got a chance to really talk to you the other night. Do you live near here?”

  I replied that I didn’t and was soon being politely but firmly badgered with every question imaginable as Linnet tried to sketch my character. I could see her snobbish little mind churning as she attempted to discover if I was A Person of Quality or merely the kind of person who has to buy her own silver. When she asked me what my father did, it took all of my restraint not to reply, “Well, Mother thinks he was a sailor.”

  Finally, Jackie returned with the drinks, putting an end to my inquisition. “Thank you, dear,” said Linnet, taking her glass from the wooden serving tray. After handing us our wine, Jackie sat down on the sofa next to Linnet.

  “I was just saying to Linnet what a gorgeous home this is,” Aunt Winnie said to Jackie.

  “Isn’t it?” Jackie gushed. “Some mornings when I wake up and look out my window at the ocean, I think I must be dreaming. Of course, this whole last week has been like a dream—although more of the nightmare variety.”

  “Jackie’s sure she’s going to solve the case,” Linnet said, with the faintest hint of condescension.

  Aunt Winnie and I looked questioningly at Jackie, but she only shook her head, sending the yellow folds of her hat flapping. “That’s not what I said, Linney, and you know it. All I said was that there was something wrong that night.” She turned to us. “I haven’t put my finger on it yet, but I know it’ll eventually come to me. It’s on the edge of my subconscious—I just have to be patient and let it swim up.”

  Linnet took a sip of her wine. “Have the police learned anything more?” she asked.

  Aunt Winnie shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Although Elizabeth and I haven’t had much contact with them since that night.”

  Jackie gave a birdlike tilt of her head and peered at me from underneath her hat. Taking a sip of wine, I returned her gaze, hoping my face didn’t give me away.

  “Have either of you heard anything?” Aunt Winnie asked in turn. Her tone was one of casual politeness, but I knew how much hope she had pinned on Jackie knowing something—anything—that would help her own situation with Detective Stewart.

  Jackie leaned forward eagerly. “Well,” she began.

  Linnet abruptly stood up and said, “Ladies, why don’t we go in for lunch now? Trust me, once Jackie gets started on this topic we’ll not be able to get a word in edgewise.”

  Jackie closed her mouth and stood up. “She’s right,” she said, smiling. “This whole thing has consumed me. I can think of nothing else. You all go in, I’ll get the lunch.” She turned and left the room, waving away Aunt Winnie’s and my offers of help.

  “Ladies,” said Linnet, with a regal nod of her head, “if you’ll follow me.”

  She led us out to an area just beyond the living room. Composed mainly of windows, it overlooked the tumbling blue waters of Nantucket Sound. In the far distance, a ferry inched its way across the horizon. Below us the beach was empty, save for a few seagulls out cleaning their feathers. Their bodies turned into the wind, they stood motionless on the hard sand.

  In the middle of this breathtaking room, an elegant table set for four awaited us. Like the living room, it resembled a picture from a magazine. Each place boasted a crystal goblet, several dishes of light blue bone china, a starched replica of a bishop’s hat, and numerous pieces of gleaming silverware. In case there was confusion as to where we were expected to sit, tiny silver snowmen held up heavy white place cards with our names on them. Aunt Winnie and I cooed appreciatively, although privately I thought it more than a little silly for a luncheon for only four people. Then again, my usual lunch consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich or a can of chicken soup, so who was I to complain?

  We had just taken our seats when Jackie returned carrying a large tray laden with bowls. She quickly set out the first course—steaming, thick clam chowder.

  “Oh, my, thank you, Jackie, Linnet,” said Aunt Winnie. “Everything looks lovely, especially this view.” She gestured to the bank of windows.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Jackie said, taking her seat. “I love to sit out here with my crocheting and stare out at the water. It’s a delightful way to pass the time and plan and think.”

  Linnet gave a light laugh. “And what are you planning, Jackie?”

  Jackie ducked her head. “Oh, nothing, really,” she said. “It’s just a figure of speech. I only meant that this is my favorite room to sit in.”

  “Do you crochet much?” I asked Jackie.

  “Oh, yes,” she said enthusiastically. “I love it. It’s really quite addicting. I’m crocheting an afghan. Now, where did I leave it?” She turned in her chair. “Oh, there it is.” Getting up, she walked over to a wicker basket on the floor.

  She pulled out a wide swath of material that was clearly the beginning of a massive afghan or a tent. She held it up proudly. A large white stripe ran across the top, followed by a green one and then a blue one. “I’m almost done with the blue section,” she said. “Next I’ll start on the yellow.” She eyed the afghan critically before adding, “And then I think I’ll be done. I’m not sure. I may add a stripe of red after that.”

  “It’s very nice,” I said. “I tried to knit a sweater once, but it came out all wrong.”

  “Sweaters are harder,” Jackie said kindly. “That’s why I stick with straightforward patterns like scarves and afghans. I made Linney a scarf for Christmas.”

  Linnet smiled. “Oh, is that what it is? I thought it was a shawl.”

  “Now, Linney,” said Jackie, “you know perfectly well it’s a scarf.”

  “I know, dear,” said Linnet. “I’m only teasing. I think we’re now ready for the next course.”

  Like a well-trained servant, Jackie put down the blanket and quietly disappeared. During the ensuing awkward lull we could hear the surf pounding onto the beach below. Jackie returned quickly with poached salmon, new potatoes, and Caesar salad.

  Once Jackie had again resumed her seat, Aunt Winnie said, “I imagine the view here is fantastic in the summer.”

  “Yes,” said Linnet. “Well, I’m hoping so, anyway. Of course, I’ve only been here a month now, so I wouldn’t know. But it does have great promise.” Her crimson nails lightly tapped the stem of her wineglass. “I always wanted to live on the water, but Martin would never agree to it.” She shook her head before adding, “There are so many things I didn’t do because of that man. In some ways this situation with Gerald reminds me of Martin.”

  Seeing the surprise on our faces, she added quickly, “Not, of course, that Martin was murdered. What I mean is that like Martin, Gerald controlled everybody around him. Now that he’s gone, Lauren and Polly are free to live their lives the way they want to.”

  “Yes,” said Jackie. “It’s a shame how Gerald kept Polly practically locked up. That’s no way for a young girl to live. I hope she didn’t have anything to do with his death and can go on and live her life now. Speaking of which, I saw her in town today. She was talking with that woman who is staying at the inn—what’s her name? Joan? Polly looked quite upset.”

  “You saw Polly with Joan Anderson?” I asked, surprised. First they had been out in the snow together the night of the murder, and today they had been in town together. It might all be innocent, but then again, it might not be. I made a mental note to mention it to Detective Stewart.

  “Yes,” Jackie said. “I waved to them, but I guess they didn’t see me. By the time I crossed the street, they had moved on.”

  I’ll bet they had, I thought. If I were Polly and had seen Jackie bearing down on me, I would have moved on, too. At a full sprint, if necessary.

  “What about Lauren Ramsey? Don’t you feel sorry for her?” said Linnet.


  “No.” Jackie idly turned her gold post earring as she spoke. “I don’t. I don’t think she’s a very nice person. I doubt if she ever loved Gerald. I think she used him for his money. If you ask me, I don’t think she cares at all that he’s dead.” Jackie suddenly blushed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, but you should have seen her Sunday, Linney.” Turning to me for collaboration, she said, “Surely you noticed how completely unaffected she was? I mean, really. She looked absolutely stunning. In fact, I think she looks better now than she did the night of the murder.”

  “Jackie, you can’t blame a woman who looks better for her husband dying,” said Linnet mildly. “I wasn’t exactly sobbing into my hankie the day of Martin’s funeral.”

  “Now, Linney, don’t say that.”

  “Why not?” said Linnet. “It’s true. I wasted so much of my life because of that man.”

  Jackie flushed at this statement, no doubt upset by her friend’s feelings of regret. “You have a lovely life,” Jackie said firmly. Struggling to say something positive about the dead man, she added, “And deep down, Martin was a good man.”

  Linnet smiled at Jackie. “Dear Jackie. You dated him only a few times, so you remember him when he was still worth something. Trust me, he went downhill pretty fast after we were married. Life was no bed of roses with Martin Westin. And besides, remember the plans you and I had? We were going to be famous actresses in Hollywood. We might have had a real shot at something, Jackie. Remember how good everyone said we were?”

  Jackie blushed and shook her head. “They said that about you, not me. You were the one with real talent.”

  “I think that’s an overstatement,” Linnet said. “But who knows? Had I really taken the trouble to see it through, I probably would have made it. When I put my mind to something, I usually succeed. It might have all come to naught, but it would have been thrilling to try.” She sighed before adding, more to herself than to us, “It’s hard to have regrets so late in life, but sometimes I wish I’d never met Martin.”

  Jackie stared back at her, her pale lips pulled down. “Me, too,” she said softly. I wondered how many of Jackie’s plans for her own future had been altered by Linnet’s decision to abandon their Hollywood dreams for marriage.

  Linnet smiled wistfully at Jackie. “But you’re right, Jackie. I do have a good life now. And that’s what’s important.” Changing the subject, she said, “So, besides Lauren, whom else do you suspect?”

  The question was not directed to anyone in particular, but Jackie quickly answered. “Personally, I wonder about that Daniel. He’s very charming and good-looking. I hear that he’s always at the house with Lauren.” Her lips were pursed as she said this, and although I couldn’t see her eyebrows, I was sure they were raised in scandalized disapproval.

  “You seem to have gotten very chummy with him, Elizabeth,” she said to me. “What do you think?”

  I was spared an immediate response by the fact that I had just taken a bite of the salmon. “Chummy?” I finally echoed. “I don’t know that I’d call us chummy.”

  “But you had dinner with him last night at the Seasons, didn’t you? From what I hear, that’s quite a romantic spot.”

  “It was very nice,” I said weakly. “But I don’t know if I’d say it was romantic.” Good God, did the woman have spies everywhere? How could she know so much about the goings-on of practically everyone in this town?

  “So what do you think, Elizabeth?” she continued with a sly smile. “Is he seeing Lauren? Or are his intentions focused elsewhere?”

  I knew my face was beet red; nevertheless, I calmly replied, “Daniel says that he and Lauren are old friends, and I have no reason to doubt him.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “But I guess you never can tell with men, can you? Then you and he aren’t—”

  “No.”

  “I see,” Jackie said. “Is that because of Peter? He’s a very handsome young man.”

  “Peter?” I replied, aghast. “No. Peter and I are old friends, that’s all. Besides, he has a girlfriend.”

  Aunt Winnie shot me a puzzled look and I realized that I was letting myself be quizzed when the point of our visit had been for us to ask the questions.

  “I did hear that Gerald was married twice before Lauren,” I said. “Does anyone know what happened to his previous wives?”

  “From what I hear,” said Jackie, “his first wife, Polly’s mother, died in a car accident. Some have even gone so far as to suggest that Gerald was involved. They say she was having an affair at the time. He divorced his second wife. Pam was her name, I believe.”

  “Does Pam still live in the area?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of,” said Jackie. “Apparently, it was a very acrimonious parting. Do you think she might have killed Gerald for revenge?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t see how she could have. The police have established that no one from outside the inn killed Gerald. If Pam was there on New Year’s, I’m sure Gerald would have recognized her.”

  “Maybe,” said Jackie, “but she could have disguised herself. After all, it has been several years since their marriage.”

  I thought about that. There really had been only one woman there that night who was the right age for the second Mrs. Ramsey. Joan Anderson. Was the secret of the necklace somehow wrapped up in that?

  After lunch, Jackie served a decadent chocolate cake that I recognized as a product of the Flowering Teapot. She ate enthusiastically, the conversation about Gerald’s murder seeming to have increased her appetite. It had the opposite effect on Aunt Winnie and me. In fact, Aunt Winnie ate hardly anything at all. Linnet, too, only picked at her slice, all the while bemoaning the unfairness of Jackie’s slim frame compared to her own padded one. It took every ounce of my restraint not to suggest that if she got up and helped Jackie once in a while, she might have less of a weight problem.

  Coffee was served—by Jackie—in the living room. In her role as hostess, Linnet decreed that we would not talk any more of Gerald’s murder, which pretty much ended the conversation. After finishing our coffee, Aunt Winnie and I thanked Jackie and Linnet for the lunch and made our excuses to leave. Linnet smiled loftily at us from the comfort of the sofa, while Jackie walked us to the door.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Jackie said. “I really enjoyed talking with you. We should do this again soon. In the meantime, keep me posted on what you hear about the murder investigation. I know it sounds ghoulish, but I find the whole thing quite fascinating.”

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” I said.

  “Good. I just wish I could remember what I saw that night that bothered me.”

  “Well, keep trying,” I said. “I’m sure it will come to you.”

  “I hope so,” she replied. “I have the feeling that it’s important.”

  From inside the house, Linnet’s voice rang out, “Jackie! I need you!”

  Jackie called back, “Coming, Linney!” Turning back to us, she said apologetically, “I must go now. Thank you again for coming.” And with that, she shut the door.

  I turned to Aunt Winnie. “That woman is unbelievable!” I said. We walked quickly down the stone steps to the driveway. The temperature had dropped again and the wind was howling. Our progress to the car was hampered by Aunt Winnie’s heels. With each step she sank into the gravel on the driveway and threatened to topple over. I grabbed her arm to steady her.

  Aunt Winnie pulled her coat closer. “Which one?”

  “Linnet Westin. The way she treats Jackie, it’s despicable!”

  “True, but we don’t know all the ins and outs of their relationship.”

  “Well, that may be so,” I said, as I propelled us to the car, “but I still don’t see how she puts up with being treated like a servant.”

  “I know,” Aunt Winnie replied with a small smile, “but you do not make allowance enough for the difference of situation and temper. Seriously, though, we don’t know how bad Ja
ckie’s situation was before this. Being bossed around by Linnet might be preferable to whatever she had before.”

  I opened Aunt Winnie’s car door for her and ran around to my door while she started up the engine. Inside, I leaned over and turned up the heat full blast. I placed my hands against the vents, waiting for the hot air to warm them. Aunt Winnie sighed.

  I glanced over at her. Her eyes were dull and her lips were pulled into a frown. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just that I was hoping we’d learn something today, but if anything I think Jackie learned more from us than we did from her. We have nothing more than when we got here. I have to be honest, I don’t relish being the police’s top suspect. I had hoped that you’d have something more to tell Detective Stewart when you meet him later.” Wearily, she rubbed her hands across her eyes.

  “Don’t be absurd,” I said, with a confidence I didn’t feel. My stomach twisted with guilt. I knew I was right not to tell her yet about the new evidence against her, but it still made me feel rotten.

  “I don’t know, sweetie,” she said. “For the first time since this terrible thing happened, I’m worried.”

  “Well, don’t be,” I said. “The police will find the killer soon. I know it.”

  Up ahead the traffic light flipped to yellow and Aunt Winnie gently applied the brake. Watching her slow down for a yellow light was like being kicked in the stomach. I was so preoccupied with worrying over the draining effect this murder investigation was having on her that I almost missed her next words. “I just can’t wait until all of this is over,” she said tiredly.

  My brain froze. I had heard those very same words before. Slowly, my mind thawed and certain facts swirled in my head like tiny snowflakes, until a definite pattern began to emerge.

  Suddenly, I felt much better about my meeting with Detective Stewart.