“Perhaps Mommy and Daddy don’t approve of Marcus bringing his punches home.” The entire Wellington family had slithered in my craw and stuck. I had a kinder thought. “Maybe he doesn’t want to fool around in front of Vivian.”
“Or else Marcus is deliberately putting his friend’s judging credentials on the line.”
“That’s interesting, Tinkie.” It could be a fallback position if Karrie didn’t win. “Is Marcus that smart?”
“No, but Karrie is.”
Touché! “Brilliant deduction, Tink.”
“If this contest doesn’t go Karrie’s way, she’ll have grounds to threaten a lawsuit. She’s the poor little wronged contestant who was taken to Clive Gladstone’s barn to service his friend—and then didn’t get what she was promised.”
Tinkie’s superior understanding of the baser feminine nature wasn’t from personal experience but from years of dealing with that type of society female. There was no world more competitive, and the women trapped there had honed the limited skills allowed them in a social structure where men controlled the power.
We were twenty minutes from town. The day, while profitable, was slipping away from us fast. The evening pageant event would begin soon. Tick tock. I heard it clearly, and it wasn’t my uterus making the noise. “I learned something interesting from Clive.”
“I saw him march you off like a trespasser.”
“Amanda Payne is the top contender for the title. If our theory is correct, she should be the next victim.”
“Amanda?” Tinkie looked genuinely distressed. “She’s so innocent. She won’t stand a chance against this killer.”
“But she has us to protect her. And we’re forewarned.”
“How can we keep her safe?” Tinkie asked.
“What if we don’t need to watch over her?” My thoughts had turned in another direction.
“You mean if she’s the killer?”
“Or Voncil.”
Tinkie digested the possibility as we drew close to Greenwood. “We still have to warn them.”
“I agree. We’ll tell Voncil, first off. And then we need to figure out who’s leaking the judges’ deliberations to the killer. Someone in the know is talking. Clive assured me it wasn’t him, and strangely enough, I believe him. He may have piss-poor taste in friends, but I don’t think he’s involved in these murders, and I actually think he’s trying to do a good job of judging.”
Tinkie settled back in the seat, one foot in her lap as she rubbed her sore tootsie. We entered the Greenwood city limits. “Chief Jansen is right. This contest should be stopped.”
“If I were a contestant, I’d quit. No title is worth my life.”
“Assuming Amanda is innocent, how can we keep her from eating poison if sampling the dishes is required?”
“I don’t know, Tinkie. That does present a problem.”
Time was running out, so Tinkie and I split up. She volunteered to talk to Evangeline Phelps, the pageant coordinator, while I rounded up Voncil Payne. Someone had to guard Amanda and make sure she didn’t ingest, touch, inhale, or otherwise poison herself.
From the house phone in the lobby I called the room Voncil and Amanda shared. “I need to speak with you,” I told her. “May I come up?”
“You’ll come even if you aren’t invited, won’t you? Every time I turn around, you and your partner are in my face.” She wasn’t exactly gracious, but I wasn’t running for Miss Popularity.
“I have information you may want to hear. I’m doing you a favor,” I pointed out. Voncil got on my last nerve, but my concern was Amanda. I’d endure Voncil to stop another girl from dying.
She let me in with a sour expression. “Amanda is on pins and needles. She went for a walk. You need to be gone before she gets back. I can’t have you upsetting her even more.”
I took a seat in an overstuffed chair. A bottle of open champagne chilled in a bucket beside me.
“Are you celebrating?” I asked.
“Amanda is going to win this. I feel it in my gut, and I always honor my feelings.”
“How can you be certain?”
“She’s scored high in everything, and the judges had a chance to see her work the crowd at the barbecue. She’s everything necessary to uphold the title of Miss Viking Range.” She selected a clean glass and poured champagne for me. “I’m sorry I was rude. The tension is making me act like a bitch.” She held up her glass. “To success for my baby girl. She’s worked hard and long and she deserves to win.”
“And to the other contestants.” I clinked her glass. One drink would be wonderful. Two would be a headache. Drinking champagne in the afternoon was never a good idea for a private investigator.
Sunlight through the hotel window fell fully on her blond hair, which shimmered in a myriad of golden shades. Her hairdresser had done a stupendous job. “There’s no easy way to say this, Voncil: I have reason to believe Amanda is in danger tonight.”
“Why?” She was more puzzled than alarmed.
“Tinkie and I have a theory. Each girl who’s been murdered was the top contender for the title. We have it on reasonable authority this is true.”
Her eyebrows rose, and a gleam of satisfaction twinkled in her eyes. “So, my baby is the top contender.”
“I’m not positive, but that’s the best information Tinkie and I have been able to gather.”
“So you think she’s the target of the killer now?” Satisfaction fled and panic raced across her features. “She can’t participate tonight. If you’re right . . . the title isn’t worth risking my only child.”
Ambition had been replaced by primal motherhood. “I can’t prove this, Voncil. It’s only a theory. But I felt I owed it to you and Amanda to tell you.”
“Amanda’s been studying recipes all day. She’s going to be bitterly disappointed. If she doesn’t participate tonight, she won’t stand a chance at the title.”
“That’s unfortunate.” I drained my glass and put it down. I’d accomplished my mission—time to move along.
“Who’s doing this?” she asked. “Hedy hired you, but if she’s killing contestants, you wouldn’t shield her”—her eyes narrowed—“would you?”
“Hedy isn’t the killer.”
“Then who is? Why can’t you stop this so the pageant can continue?” Her questions came rapid-fire. “What’s that worthless police chief doing? If you know someone is killing the highest rated girl in the competition, why can’t you catch the murderer?”
“We’re doing our best, and I told you this is only a theory.”
Voncil rose suddenly. “Is this a trick? It just occurred to me Hedy would benefit greatly if Amanda dropped out of the running.” The more she talked, the closer she inched toward my face. “The title has to be between Hedy, Amanda, and that bitch Karrie. If Amanda is disqualified because she’s afraid to eat tonight, your client would be in a very good position.”
When she invaded my personal space too far, I stood and forced her back. “Voncil, I like Amanda. She doesn’t take after you in the least. And yes, I do hope Hedy wins. But I wouldn’t hand her the title by deception. I’m trying to safeguard your daughter and prevent another death. If I’m right about the killer’s M.O., then Amanda is the next target.”
“Maybe Chief Jansen should be telling me this.”
“A very good point,” I said. “I’ll inform Chief Jansen and if he decides to repeat it to you, then perhaps you’ll do what’s necessary to protect Amanda’s life.” I’d gone from amused to angry in ten seconds. Voncil was the worst stage mother on the planet. Amanda’s success was what mattered to her. But I’d also thought she loved her daughter and would take the necessary steps to keep her safe.
Wrong.
I strode across the room before I smacked her. “If Amanda is hurt tonight, remember you had a chance to protect her.”
“I’m onto you now,” she said. “You come here all worried about my daughter. But Hedy will compete, won’t she? She isn’t about to
drop out.”
“Hedy isn’t the top contender.” I couldn’t drive it into her head with a ten-pound hammer.
“Which is exactly why you’re doing this.” She slammed the door without another word.
19
By the time I got to Hedy’s room, I’d calmed down. Our client was in the throes of hairstyling. I didn’t want to upset her before the competition, but I had questions. She had some, too.
“Chief Jansen grilled me about Babs. Why didn’t he arrest me? He made it clear he thought I was a murderer.”
“If he had enough hard evidence, you’d be behind bars. You’re on his list, but he probably has other suspects.”
Hedy dropped her hairbrush on the bed. “I don’t think I can do this tonight. I called the hospital. Babs isn’t doing well. I want to visit her. Will you go with me?”
“Not a good idea.” If Hedy entered ICU and something untoward happened to Babs, Jansen would be forced to jail her. “I’ll go by there tomorrow and see her.” My promise was reluctant—I detested hospitals.
“Why was she hurt and I wasn’t?” Frustration colored Hedy’s tone. “Babs should be at the competition tonight. Talent, personality, cooking skills—she had it all. She was going to win, I think.”
My radar tripped. Did Hedy have information on the contestant rankings? “Why would you say that?”
“She should win. If she survives, they should award her the title.” Hedy retrieved a fine-toothed comb from the bathroom. She bent over and began teasing her long hair.
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Marcus never intends to let me be part of Vivian’s life. I have to accept it. Winning this title won’t do me any good. It was a harebrained scheme to begin with.” Her face was concealed, but her voice choked with tears. “I want to go home, but I can’t walk away from Vivian. I don’t know what to do.”
Tinkie was the comfort-giver and soother. My nurturing skills rated in the inadequate zone, but I’d try. “You’ve gone this far, Hedy. You might as well take it to the end. Quitting now accomplishes nothing.”
“I can’t stand it if someone else is injured or . . . killed. I like Babs, and Brook seemed nice. Janet was sloppy, but she was okay. None of them deserved the terrible things that happened.”
I put a hand on her back, and she straightened up and turned into my shoulder for a good cry. “This is the last night,” I said, rubbing her back. “Hang in there.”
“You and Tinkie are the only people who’ve ever really stood up for me,” she sobbed.
And we were paid to do it—a fact I didn’t mention. “Why don’t you contact your mother?”
“No.” She eased away, struggling for composure. “We’re estranged.”
“Hedy, I’m sure by now she’s forgiven you for getting pregnant. Mothers have a hard time seeing their children suffer hardships, but they get over it in the end.”
“Let me get a tissue.” When she came out of the bathroom, she’d washed her face. “Mother wasn’t upset when I told her I was pregnant. She thought I was a fool to sign the papers giving Marcus custody, but she became angry when I decided to fight for Vivian.”
“How peculiar.”
“Tell me about it.” She was calmer, and I couldn’t help but smile at her hair, which was a giant ball of teased black frizz.
“I need to talk to you about the nanny Marcus hired.”
“Anna Lock.” Hedy put ice in two glasses and poured us both a diet cola. “Marcus was so proud of her. The best nanny to be had. Marcus only wants the best.”
“She was with you two weeks before Vivian went with Marcus?”
She sank onto a bed, her shoulders slumped and her hair a dark nimbus around her head. “I was a terrible mother. I couldn’t even change Vivian’s diaper properly. After three days she got an awful rash. I was inept.”
“You were young and inexperienced and you had no one to turn to.” I felt my ire rising at Marcus. He’d mined Hedy’s fears like a mother lode.
“Anna was a godsend. She could do everything, and she never got flustered or upset. The minute she picked Vivian up, she’d stop crying and laugh. When I touched her, she screamed.”
“People tell me babies sense when a person is uncertain. It upsets them. Anna had more confidence than you, that’s all.”
She blew out a breath. “I was scared and exhausted and worried that I’d harm my baby. I had to work, there was no choice. Once Anna arrived, I could go to work knowing Vivian would have better care than I could give her. When Marcus said he wanted Vivian and Anna would continue to care for her, I resisted at first. Vivian would have the best of everything, she’d lack for nothing, she’d have family and love and opportunities—he made me feel that I had nothing to offer my daughter. In contrast, keeping her with me was dooming her to a life of deprivation. I caved.”
I didn’t want to be cruel, but to do my job, I had to ask some hard questions. “Did you accept any money to sign the papers?”
“No!” She jumped to her feet. “How could you—”
“I have to ask. Settle down.” When she was seated, I continued. “Tell me about Anna. Anything and everything. She’s the key to a lot of things, I think.”
“She’s well educated, smart, calm. She loves babies. She cooks healthy.”
I was looking for something else. “What about her family? Did she ever mention them?”
“No. I never thought anything about it. She made herself part of our family so easily.”
“She’s from the Northeast, I think.”
“Maybe. Her pronunciation was off a little. Things like ‘roof.’ Could be.”
“She never revealed anything about herself? You never saw a photograph or anything?”
Hedy’s head moved slowly from side to side. “I never even thought it strange. I was so caught up in my worries and concerns, I never realized how odd she was.”
“Keep thinking about it. If something comes up, call me immediately. Tinkie and I are on the case.”
Tinkie might have been on the case, but she wasn’t in our room. She hadn’t returned from her appointment with Evangeline Phelps. I decided to grab a glass of the peach tea the Alluvian served in the lobby. I’d give Oscar a call to make sure Sweetie Pie was behaving and rehydrate simultaneously.
The sweating tea glass in my hand, I did a double take as I headed for the elevators. Across the courtyard, Marcus Wellington sat at a table in the hotel restaurant—and he wasn’t alone. Belinda Buck sat opposite him.
Marcus picked up the check, rose, and slid Belinda’s chair away from the table—a perfect gentleman. They were laughing as they disappeared from sight. I waited, downing one glass of tea and pouring a second. They didn’t come through the lobby.
My discovery wasn’t ground shattering, just another little fact to add to the pile.
As soon as I was in the room I kicked my shoes off and dialed Oscar.
“Sweetie’s depressed,” he said. I could visualize his eyes narrowing as he decided how much to tell me. “I didn’t want to worry you, but ever since that Danny dog went back to New York, Sweetie has been in a terrible slump. She turned down chunks of steak this morning. I swear, Sarah Booth, I’m worried about her. She hasn’t swallowed a morsel since Graf dropped her off.”
“Try some buttermilk and corn bread. Nothin’ like a little home cooking.”
It wasn’t Oscar who spoke but a silver-haired woman wearing a long red tunic top and white pants. This stranger had invaded my privacy. It took me a moment to realize Jitty had transformed herself into a Southern cooking icon—Paula Deen.
Waving Jitty away with one hand, I took the telephone and hid in the bathroom. Of course Jitty could float through a wall, but she might allow me to finish my conversation with Oscar. Or she might not. It depended on how determined she was to make me miserable.
“For Sweetie to turn down steak, she must be in a real slump. I have to attend an event right now, Oscar, but I’ll come home tonight. If n
othing else, I can bring Sweetie Pie here with me. Dogs aren’t allowed in the hotel, but I’ll work something out.”
“That might be for the best,” he agreed. “It hurts me to see her like this. Not even Chablis can perk her up. I’m simply at a loss. I’ve tried every treat I know and she refuses to eat.”
“Who would have thought Sweetie could fall so hard for a dog she’d known for just two days?” It sounded like a perfect case of Delaney womb taking total control, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Oscar.
“Love is strange, Sarah Booth.” He cleared his throat. “Will Tinkie accompany you home?”
Sweetie wasn’t the only one at Hilltop feeling blue and lonely. “I’ll bet wild horses couldn’t keep her away.” I had a sudden inspiration. “Or you could come to Greenwood and have a romantic evening with your wife. I’ll watch Chablis and Sweetie Pie in Zinnia while you entertain Tinkie in Alluvian bliss.”
“It’s a deal.” Oscar jumped on that like a hungry rooster pecking a doodlebug.
“I’ll call you when we’re done with the pageant event.” I smiled at playing the matchmaker for Tinkie. She missed Oscar, though she would never complain. A surprise “date night” was just what the doctor ordered.
Speaking of doctors, I needed to float my theory of “top dog gets killed” by Doc Sawyer. He might be able to tell me more about the poisons used so far—they seemed so disparate. Tinkie and I had come up with two different motives: for the killer to control the outcome of the competition, or for the killer to frame Hedy for murder. My suspicions about Marcus had me leaning toward the latter.
Hedy, if she were truly a practitioner of the dark arts, would know plants and poisons. But a load of information was available on the Internet. Anyone with reasonable smarts could learn about a poison and how to administer it. Anna Lock had a lot more than reasonable smarts. She was highly educated.
“Sarah Booth Delaney, come out here and see what I’ve got cookin’.” Jitty’s voice carried clearly into the bathroom.
Bone Appétit Page 20