“She’ll ram Amanda through anyone who gets in the way.”
“True, but my thoughts on the killer have changed drastically since meeting Anna Lock. We can’t discount Marcus or one of the contestants, but I think we should take a close look at the nanny.”
“Me too. She’s . . . not right.” Tinkie peeled a packet of crackers and munched one. “If it is one of the contestants, though, my vote still goes to Karrie Kompton.”
Speak of the devil and she arrives. Karrie strolled into the café just as the waitress put our food in front of us. The whole place fell silent as everyone took note of her arrival. She was hard to miss in a minidress that showed a mile of leg, high-heel sandals, a huge sun hat, and sunglasses.
She walked straight to the table where Voncil and Belinda were confabbing and stuck a finger in Voncil’s face. “Everyone knows you’re trying to bribe the judges. You’re probably killing off the contestants, but I’m onto you.”
Tinkie was on her feet and across the room, her digital camera out and snapping. Belinda tried to hide behind a menu as Tinkie captured the moment. Joy would reign in the halls of the Dispatch.
“Give me that camera!” Karrie grabbed a fistful of Tinkie’s hair. I was on my feet in a flash. Without a second thought, I karate-chopped Karrie. I’d never had a martial arts lesson, but I hit her hard enough to make up in pain what I lacked in technique. She let go of my partner.
“You two have been the bane of my existence since I got here,” Karrie said. “You’re going to pay.” She stalked out of the restaurant to a long, sharp wolf whistle from a table full of young men.
Voncil was in tears, and dismay showed on Belinda Buck’s face. “This isn’t what it appears to be,” Belinda said.
“Looks to me like a judge having lunch with a contestant’s mother,” Tinkie said. “Can you spell ‘compromised’?” Leave it to my partner to call a spade a spade. And I was the ornery one.
“We didn’t plan this lunch. I came to eat, saw Belinda was sitting alone.” She gasped for breath. “We have other business, non-pageant business. We were discussing . . .” Voncil wiped a tear from her cheek. “We’re working together on a fund-raiser for diabetes in Gainesville, Florida. We’ve both had sad experiences with the disease, and I asked Belinda to headline an event. Please don’t ruin Belinda because I did something stupid.”
Tinkie wasn’t buying it. Her nose for news was itching.
“It’s true,” Belinda said. “Check with the Florida Diabetes Association. This is perfectly innocent, even though I did ask Voncil to leave as soon as she sat down.”
“I’ll check it out,” Tinkie said.
“Instead of picking on Miss Buck, maybe you ought to run the photo of Karrie showing her true colors as a pit bull,” Voncil said. “She’s a bitch, and she deserves to be shown as one in print.”
“But it would taint the Miss Viking Contest,” Belinda said. “Even if we know this lunch is aboveboard, other folks won’t. One thing I’ve learned from working in Hollywood: Perception is everything.”
Her observation was dead-on, and this gave Tinkie and me a perfect opportunity. “Miss Buck, Tinkie and I have some questions, when you have time.”
“I have a full afternoon,” she said. “I’ll have my assistant call you and set an appointment.”
“Perfect.” I too had a busy afternoon planned.
17
Hedy was still MIA when we returned to the hotel. A police officer stood in the lobby, no doubt waiting to snatch her up and take her to Jansen when she finally put in an appearance. Thinking I might find a clue to her whereabouts in her room, I used the key card she’d given Tinkie to trigger the lock.
The door swung wide without a sound. The room was a disaster. And empty. The suite she’d shared with Janet Menton was cluttered—and sealed off. Hedy’s new room was wrecked. With a sense of dread, I realized it wasn’t merely messy. It had been tossed. By someone either in a hurry or intent on destroying as much as possible.
This put Hedy’s continued absence in a new light.
I called Chief Jansen. Though livid at Hedy’s behavior, he calmed down when I told him about the condition of her room and my fears someone had abducted Hedy.
“Don’t touch anything,” he said. “I’ll send forensics.”
“I’ve touched the doorknob and I’m leaving the room.”
“Wait for me—”
But I didn’t. I had no time to get hornswaggled into Jansen’s investigative clutches. If Hedy was in danger, I needed to get on the trail. I called Tinkie from the lobby, and she agreed I should pursue Hedy while she found out all she could about Anna Lock, the amazingly competent nanny for little Vivian. And the woman who fit the description of what I’d come to call Hedy’s “stalker” at Ground Zero Blues Club.
At the hotel’s front desk, I talked with two hotel staffers, Samuel and Lonnie. Neither had seen Hedy. When I explained she was missing and I was concerned someone had “taken” her, Samuel sang a different tune.
He signaled me to follow him out to the courtyard, away from the coming and going of the lobby traffic. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, withdrew them, then stuffed them in again. “Nobody took Miss Hedy except for me.”
“What do you mean?” I have to admit, relief was sweet. I’d convinced myself Hedy had been kidnapped. Right off the bat I knew Samuel hadn’t done anything bad to her.
“She was so upset by what happened to Babs. She said she’d be blamed. She needed to hide somewhere and asked if I could help her.” Samuel almost trembled. He wasn’t the best accomplice for nefarious deeds or avoiding the law. He was flawed by honesty.
“Where is she?” I asked.
He looked at the ground and mumbled, “At my place.”
“Did you trash her room to make it look like an abduction?”
His head snapped up. “No, ma’am. I couldn’t do that. The hotel would fire me for tearing up a customer’s things.”
I didn’t have the grit to tell him lying to the police and helping a person avoid the law weren’t pluses with an employer. But his heart was in the right place. Hedy had a way of winning people over, of convincing them to help her. I was a prime example of that.
“I need to speak with her. Where is she?”
He gave me the address, which wasn’t far. “Since you’re a hotel guest, I can drive you,” he offered.
That would leave the Caddy at Tinkie’s disposal. He went to retrieve the van key, and I waited in the courtyard. The day had grown hot, and I wished for shorts rather than long pants, but I had no time to change. The luxury of spring’s cool breezes had fled. Heat and humidity lay over the land, bringing the cotton on strong. Mississippi’s climate took a certain amount of fortitude.
Laughter drifted around the corner of the courtyard, and Voncil and Amanda Payne walked up carrying shopping bags jammed with cooking supplies and clothes. They’d had a real spree in a very short time.
“Sarah Booth,” Amanda said, “please thank Mrs. Richmond for the wonderful newspaper photo of me singing. And your friend, Miss Cece, was so kind reviewing my songs.”
“You did a marvelous job. Cece never gives praise unless it’s due.”
“I need to have a word with Miss Delaney,” Voncil said. “Amanda, would you take these things to the room?”
Amanda gathered up the bags, disappearing among the purchases. I held the door as she struggled to the elevator.
“I have some information about your client,” Voncil said quietly. She looked around as if she expected Big Brother behind a palm. “I saw her last night.”
Samuel was taking his sweet time, so I motioned her to a courtyard table. “Where?”
“Hedy and Babs pulled up in the parking lot here at the Alluvian between one thirty and two a.m. They talked a minute, and I heard them laughing. Hedy got out of the car, and Babs remained.”
This corroborated what Hedy had told the police chief. “Babs was in the car with the door shut? You saw her?”
“Yes. Babs had some music turned up really loud, and she was rocking down. You know, sort of dancing in the car. I’d guess she was high and not ready to call it a night.”
“What were you doing in the parking lot so late?”
She rubbed the tendons at the back of her neck. “This contest is killing me. I can’t sleep. The pressure is incredible. When I get this tense, it affects Amanda. I took a drive over to Greenville to see the Mississippi River in the moonlight. I figured it would be my last chance, before we go home. I had to get out of the room or Amanda wouldn’t have gotten any rest.”
“You’ll tell Chief Jansen this?” Voncil’s eyewitness account didn’t clear Hedy, but it supported her story.
“I’m happy to speak to the chief in Hedy’s behalf.” She smiled. “On one condition.”
I’d figured Voncil for a barracuda. Nothing came for free. “What?”
“Make sure your friend doesn’t use the photo of me and Belinda. The implications could ruin Ms. Buck’s reputation as a judge. If that happens, Belinda will never forgive me. Worse, she won’t help Amanda with the Hollywood contacts she can give us, if she wants to.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, we weren’t doing anything wrong. It really was innocent. And if there is fault, it should go on me. Belinda did ask me to leave.”
“It sure looked wrong.”
“That’s why I want your word you’ll delete the photo in Mrs. Richmond’s camera. I can’t take a chance it’ll get out and be misconstrued.”
“You have my word. Now call Jansen and tell him.”
Samuel came out the door and stopped, lingering in the background. Voncil rose to her feet, assessing Samuel and then me, putting together god knew what scenario in her head.
“I’ll do it now,” she said. “Will you be at the cooking event this evening?”
“Tinkie and I both will. It’s a difficult task for the girls.”
“Amanda can sniff out the most subtle smidgen of a spice. She has a nose for seasonings and blends. That’s one of the benefits of the kind of authentic cooking she specializes in. She’s going to win this and take the title.”
If Voncil had snapped her jaws like a wolverine, I wouldn’t have been surprised. “How nice,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
When she was gone, Samuel dangled the key. “I have to be back in twenty minutes.”
“Then let’s make tracks.”
Samuel dropped me in front of a quadriplex on an old street lined with oaks. It was a beautiful neighborhood of homes built in the 40s and 50s on acre-lots designed to accommodate football and games of hide-and-seek. He didn’t have time to wait and drove off as I knocked on the door. There was no answer.
I knocked again. “Hedy, it’s me, Sarah Booth. Open up. I need to talk to you.”
She came to the door, looking out left and right. “Come on in.” She almost snatched me into the apartment, then slammed the door. “How’s Babs? Is she going to be okay? What are you doing here?”
“Whoa!” I held up a hand to slow the onslaught of questions. “Babs is still in a coma, but she has the best doctor in the state helping her. I’m here because Jansen is on the war-path and looking for you.”
“I had to think. I needed a place where no one could find me.” Hedy looked pathetic.
“Voncil Payne will tell Jansen she saw you leave Babs, very much alive and well, in your vehicle.”
Instead of the relief I expected, Hedy’s face showed doubt. “Why is Voncil doing that?”
“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” I was a tad impatient.
“Of course, but why would Voncil help me? She wants Amanda to win, and even if I’m only disqualified and not charged with murder, it would be to her advantage.”
Hedy was nobody’s fool. “She worked a bargain with Tinkie about a photo.” I didn’t need to go into details. While I wasn’t certain the Buck-Payne lunch was totally innocent, I also didn’t want to tarnish Belinda Buck’s reputation without hard evidence.
“What am I going to do?” Hedy asked. She crossed the room, which I noted was neat and orderly, and lifted the window shades. Hundred-year-old white oaks surrounded the apartment. Beyond them, the street was quiet.
“Chief Jansen needs to see you,” I said. “Go before he finds you and drags you there. He doesn’t have enough to hold you, but if you show up voluntarily, it’ll defuse his anger and suspicion.”
She nodded her willingness to comply.
“What do you know about Vivian’s nanny, Anna Lock?” I asked.
“She would do anything Marcus told her to do. Anything.” Bitterness flooded her tone. “If Marcus told her to walk through fire, she’d give it a try. Remember the nanny in The Omen? Well, that creature has nothing on Anna. Perfect Anna. Educated, refined, well traveled. So much better to raise my child than I am.”
“How tall would you say she is?”
Hedy gave me a long look. “Maybe five-two. Max. Why?”
“She’s in her early forties, right?” I had a lot of ground to cover, and my staccato questions made Hedy frown.
“I guess. What’s the sixty questions about Anna?”
“Bear with me, I’m following a hunch. Is she married?”
“I wasn’t around her long, but she showed no interest in men, in that way. Nothing will interfere with her living in the Wellington home and devoting her life to raising Vivian. She’s the perfect nanny.” Defeat settled into her features.
“Do you know anything else about her?”
She considered. “She lived in New Orleans and worked for a family there, the Bronsills. Marcus was all over the fact she’d been a governess to Latham Bronsill, heir of the highly prominent Bronsill family. Latham, at twenty-six, was a contender for an ambassadorship to France. Or so Marcus said.”
“Marcus is eaten up with such rarified connections, isn’t he? It’s the pond he swims in.” The New Orleans connection with Anna Lock and the whole Saulnier/Marie Laveau hogwash came to mind, but I didn’t mention it. Anna could be responsible for Marcus’s distorted view of Hedy.
There was something else I needed to bring up. “I went in your room. It’s a huge mess. So much so that I feared you’d been kidnapped. Did you leave it that way?”
“No, Janet was messy. I hated that. I keep things neat. Who would have torn up my room?”
“A better question is what were they looking for? When you get back there, check everything and see if anything is missing. I hope Jansen finds some fingerprints in your room other than the hotel cleaning staff’s. That your room was tossed is good evidence we can use to support your innocence.” Now was the moment to clear the air about some things. “You haven’t been truthful with me, Hedy.”
She didn’t deny it, she just looked down at the floor.
“You didn’t tell me Marcus called you the night Janet died.”
“How did you find out?” She looked scared.
“The switchboard has a record of all calls. Tinkie called Marcus, so he knows we know.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?”
“He said I could see Vivian. He said if I stood outside the hotel, down at the end of the block, and wore a scarf or hat to conceal my face, he would drive by with her in the car.” Her voice was strained.
“Did he?”
“No. I stood there for over an hour and he never came. I just wanted to look at her.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. That one glimpse of her daughter would have sustained her for months. It made me want to kick the snot out of Marcus. While he might be able to better educate, clothe, and open doors for Vivian, he could not love her more than Hedy did. His actions were wrong.
“To get you out of your room, Marcus set you up with the only bait he knew you couldn’t turn down: Vivian. Why did you lie and tell me you went to play your violin?”
“It wasn’t a lie. I did. When he failed to show, I played for an hour or so. I write melodies for Vivian. In case I
never see her, one day she’ll know I loved her.”
Now I really wanted to stomp him. “Do you know anything about a gris-gris bag under Janet’s bed? A dead chicken claw?”
She laughed, a reaction that surprised me. “Now I’m accused of mutilating a chicken?”
“Jansen is taking the gris-gris seriously. Marcus has done a good job of brainwashing the chief and some of the judges that you’re a practitioner.”
That wiped the smile from her face. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure. But someone is doing a damn fine job of planting evidence they hope incriminates you. Be very careful what you do and who you hang around with. Do not be alone with any of the contestants. One more coincidental connection to a tragedy, and Jansen will be forced to arrest you.”
“Okay.” She was more than contrite. She was worried.
“Come on. I’ll call a cab and share the ride back to town with you. The sooner you check in with Jansen, the quicker it’ll be over with. You have to get ready for the ‘Taste and Copy’ competition.”
I dropped Hedy off at the police department, but I didn’t go in. I called Tinkie, who’d assembled a dossier on Anna Lock. We met in the courtyard of the hotel and ordered iced tea.
An afternoon lethargy had settled over the hotel, but not my partner. Tinkie practically sizzled with an electric charge. She was excited. “I found out a lot. Anna worked as a governess for the Bronsills for five years while Latham was a high school student. Thanks to her tutoring, Latham spoke flawless French, won national recognition with his math abilities, and snared half a dozen national and international essay competitions on the economy, the U.S. Constitution, foreign affairs, and the tax structure. Latham was a certified prodigy. According to Melissa, Anna’s next act would be to raise the dead.”
“How did you get all this information?” I asked.
“I know Melissa Bronsill,” Tinkie said. “We worked a charity event in New Orleans two years ago. Lovely woman. Why she married into that family, I’ll never know.”
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