Pasta Mortem

by Ellery Adams

  “Bennett, you need to lower your voice. We’re in the library.”

  “Sorry, man. I’m kinda freaking out. I went by the Yuppie Puppy, but there was a sign on the door that read Closed for Snow. There is no snow, James! That man on TV keeps yelling about it, but there’s no snow!”

  James held out both his hands and pushed them down in rapid movements, indicating Bennett needed to stop being so noisy.

  “Sorry. I know she’s okay because I delivered her mail and I could see her moving around the house. I went up to the door and knocked, and she pulled the blinds in the living room closed and didn’t come to the door. She’s broken up with me, James. It’s over. I’m history. What am I gonna do?”

  “Give her a day. Gillian likes her space sometimes. It’s more likely she’s blending special healing oils. Have you gotten her a Valentine’s present?”

  Bennett put a shaking hand to his forehead, leaving a trail of powdered sugar there. “I totally forgot.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I had to call Milla a little while ago and ask her to make up something for Jane. I’d forgotten too.”

  “I keep picturing Gillian and Lindy in that house feeling free because they’ve gotten rid of their men.”

  “I don’t believe for a minute that’s what Gillian and Lindy are doing. For one thing, Lindy is at school now. Gillian is probably drinking a special tea and sitting in an impossible yoga position, meditating.”

  Bennett smiled half-heartedly, then swiped a hand over his eyes. “Sounds about right. I love that woman, James.”

  “She loves you too. That hasn’t changed overnight. Remember what Gillian said about Lindy and Luis’s fight? How important communication is?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve been telling you how she won’t communicate with me.”

  “She may be more receptive tomorrow. Don’t send her an email. You’ve left her all those messages. She knows you love her and want to talk with her. The message she’s sending you is that she’s not ready to talk yet. Wait until tomorrow and try again.”

  Bennett nodded. “Thanks, James. I better finish my route.”

  “Okay. Hey, Bennett,” he called to his friend’s retreating back. “How about coming over to my house tonight and having dinner with us? We have a huge pot of vegetable soup to get through.”

  “I appreciate the invite. Can I let you know later? I may go home and crash. I didn’t sleep much at all last night.”

  “Sure.”

  When Bennett left, James gave Jane a quick call and told her what had happened and that Bennett might be joining them for dinner. “I told him it would be vegetable soup.”

  Jane said, “I’d love to see him. Poor thing. Sounds like he’s hurting.”

  “He is. Listen, Lucy’s coming in. I have to go. Love you, honey.”

  “Love you too, James.”

  Lucy, dressed in her uniform and a heavy brown sheriff’s department coat, walked over to James. “What’s going on with Bennett? I saw him outside. He had the most hangdog expression on his face and told me he was too busy to talk.”

  “He and Gillian are on the outs. It’s all about Gillian wanting to show her affection in public and Bennett feeling that, since he’s African-American, folks wouldn’t approve.”

  Lucy thought a moment. “Everyone in Quincy’s Gap knows they’re a couple. I can’t picture people being anything but happy for them. I’m not saying it’s impossible some idiot would shoot them a dirty look.”

  “I feel like there’s more to it,” James mused. “Bennett seemed genuinely afraid when Gillian rested her head on his shoulder.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “We need to get him alone and see if we can pry into that statistic-filled mind of his. Find out what he’s thinking. You wanted to see me? Information that might change the case?”

  “Yes,” James said eagerly.

  Lucy held up a hand. “You’d better hear the news first. And, James, I know you won’t like it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  James braced himself for bad news. “Go ahead.”

  “Before Murphy could go before the judge on the assault charges, Charlottesville sent us the results on the prints on the cardinal statue,” Lucy said. “The killer wore gloves, but there was a smudged print and half of a perfect one. They compared the half-print to Murphy’s. It was a match.”

  “Surely half a fingerprint won’t be enough for the judge—”

  “The judge charged Murphy with the assault of Kitty Walters and the murder of Ray Edwards.”

  “N-no, I can’t believe it,” James faltered. “Where is she?”

  “Her lawyer, Cyril Morton, argued for bail. The judge said she was a flight risk because of her financial resources. He did release her on a hundred thousand dollars bail once Morton delivered Murphy’s passport to the court. I don’t think Murphy wasted any time getting out of there.”

  “Let me tell you what I’ve discovered,” James said. “Remember how you’ve said all along that Ray Edwards could only have been murdered by Murphy because she was the only one with the opportunity? You’ve thrown that word ‘opportunity’ out over and over.”

  Lucy’s eyes glimmered with anger. “Yes, James. The room was locked. No one else could have gotten inside.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” James said.

  Scott and Francis came out of the break room, greeted Lucy, then went to tidy the children’s section.

  James continued, “Lucy, it was actually something Eliot said that put me onto this information. Jane and I are reading him The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. This morning, Eliot asked me if I could build him a secret closet in his tree house.”

  Lucy tapped her foot. “What has a child’s desire for a trip to Narnia have to do with an opportunity for murder?”

  “The secret closet gave me the idea that there might be a secret passageway in the Red Bird. I called Mrs. Lydell this morning—remember Lindy said Mrs. Lydell used to clean there—and she confirmed it. In the back of the clothes closet in the third-floor suite, the suite that Edwards and Murphy were staying in, there’s a panel that opens to a passage that goes all the way down to the kitchen. Keep in mind, the house was built in 1888.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lucy said.

  “No. This means that someone could have come up from the kitchen, entered the suite from the closet, killed Edwards while Murphy was passed out, then exited the room the same way he or she came. Blows your theory that only Murphy had the opportunity to kill Edwards right out of the water.”

  “It’s not just my theory. The whole sheriff’s department believes it.” Lucy pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it. “Who knew about this secret passage, if it even exists?”

  “The Lydells, but we’ve ruled them out as suspects. There’s someone else. Kitty Walters.”

  “She wasn’t even in town when Edwards was murdered,” Lucy said.

  “Do we know that for sure? She could have been staying at a different motel. Maybe she found out about Edwards’s relationship with Murphy and killed him in a rage.”

  “How would she know about the secret passage?”

  “Her parents, the Richardsons, owned the Red Bird when it was a private home called Fairbridge. Her real name is Kathy Richardson.”

  Lucy drew in a sharp breath. “What? How did you find that out?”

  “I did a search for ‘Kitty Walters actress,’ that’s how. She had made an off-the-cuff remark to me that she might have been an actress ‘once upon a time,’ that’s why I Googled her that way. Her name brought up hundreds of thousands of results. Anyway, her Wikipedia page gave the name of her parents, the Richardsons from DC, and the fact that they owned Fairbridge.”

  “Did they own it while the Hearth and Home show was on the air?”

  “Yes. It was used for the exterior shots. Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Lydell were sort of caretakers at the house when the Richardsons owned it. The Richardsons live in DC and only used the house as a summer pla
ce. I questioned the Lydells after church yesterday and they told me about Kathy.”

  James filled Lucy in on Kathy’s wild past and her move to Los Angeles. “Walters appears to have been a show business name. Eventually, Kathy—or Kitty, as she was known by then—made her way to Louisville and got engaged to Edwards.”

  “Kitty is staying at the Red Bird, isn’t she? Brandon Jensen offered her his room, but she said she’d take the suite on the third floor. The murder suite. You might be on to something, James.”

  “Does this mean you’re willing to consider that Murphy might not have killed Edwards?”

  “It means I want to talk to Kitty Walters. Now.”

  “I’m going with you. We need to check out the secret passage.”

  Lucy hesitated a moment, then said, “All right, but you can’t interfere in my talk with Kitty. Sheriff Huckabee might not like me letting you tag along on official business.”

  “Deal,” James said. “I just want to check out that passage.”

  “I’ve got the patrol car. We’ll take it. I hear you’ve been having trouble with your Bronco.”

  “It’s fine,” James said defensively. “But I’ll go with you.”

  James asked the twins to hold down the fort, bundled up against the weather, and got in the car with Lucy. Like her Jeep, the patrol car contained empty fast-food wrappers.

  She gave him a rueful look. “I haven’t been doing the greatest job on my diet.”

  Sullie, James thought. She’s upset about Sullie flirting with Amber Ross and is stress eating. He pushed a wrapper out of the way and sat down. “Don’t feel bad. I haven’t been good either.”

  She got them on the road and said, “I wonder if Kitty met any of the actors from Hearth and Home while she was in Los Angeles.”

  “I had that thought.”

  “What made her choose Louisville as a place to settle when she’s from DC? Could it be that she knew Joel Foster? He’s based there.”

  “And he’s a partner in the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation. Kitty’s a Realtor. She said she was going to sell the new houses in the planned development.”

  “Right. It would make sense that Joel Foster would have introduced her to Ray Edwards.”

  “Do you believe that Kitty and Edwards were engaged?”

  “Pretty much. That handwritten will she has needs to be examined for authenticity, though. If they were engaged, Edwards was rotten to Murphy. He played her. Which brings us back around to Murphy and motive.”

  James wanted to keep the conversation on other possible suspects, so he said, “How did the actors react when Sheriff Huckabee told them they’d have to stay in the area?”

  “About like you’d expect. They didn’t like it one bit. Valerie Norris threatened to sue the department, saying she had to return to her home in Los Angeles and finish writing her latest book.”

  They crested a rise and the Red Bird came into view. As they pulled into the driveway, James saw Murphy’s car. Lucy must have seen it too. She swung the patrol car into a parking spot. “Let’s go, James. I don’t like the idea that Murphy is here.”

  Before they could knock, Carol Anderson swung open the door, her husband behind her. “You got here fast, thank goodness, Deputy Hanover.”

  Lucy and James entered the hall. James saw the actors, minus Valerie Norris, standing around the living room. Joel’s face was ashen. Brandon stared off into space. Doug and Amber were looking at their cell phones.

  From upstairs, James heard two women arguing. Murphy and someone else. Valerie?

  “What do you mean, Mrs. Anderson?” Lucy asked. “Why did you call us?”

  The older woman pulled the sides of her cardigan together and crossed her arms. “I told the 911 operator. I went upstairs with fresh towels. In the third-floor suite, I found Kitty Walters dead!” She burst into tears. Her husband put his arms around her.

  Lucy and James took the stairs two at a time. On the second-floor landing, Murphy stood with her hands on her hips, anger vibrating off her as she looked at Valerie Norris. Valerie leaned against the wall in a posture that showed a lack of concern.

  “What’s going on?” Lucy demanded. “What’s this about Kitty Walters being dead?”

  Valerie said, “Mrs. Anderson came flying down the stairs saying that Kitty was lying against the fireplace hearth—it’s brick, you know—with blood running down the side of her head. She felt for a pulse, but couldn’t find one.”

  “You killed her! You killed Kitty like you did Ray. You wanted to frame me,” Murphy snarled. “You’re jealous of me and have been since my books topped yours on the bestseller lists.”

  “Murphy, don’t say anything else,” James warned.

  Valerie’s lip curled. “Don’t flatter yourself, mystery novel writer. I’ve been in the publishing game a lot longer than you have. I have more fans than you could even dream of. I don’t need to kill anyone on paper or in real life.”

  “You’re greedy. Never enough money or fame for you, is there, Valerie?” Murphy demanded.

  Valerie tilted her head. “As your favorite author, Agatha Christie, once said, ‘A murderer is seldom content with one crime.’ I suppose you can’t help emulating your idol’s words.”

  Murphy made a sound deep in her throat that James could only label a growl. Lucy stepped between the women. “One at a time, without interruptions, I want to hear what happened.”

  The sound of footsteps rapidly climbing up the steps caught their attention. Sheriff Huckabee and Deputy Keith Donovan arrived with a forensic team. The latter continued on to the third floor.

  Sheriff Huckabee took in the situation and addressed his remarks to Lucy. “What’s the state of affairs?”

  “I just arrived, sir. I haven’t had a chance to view the crime scene.”

  “We got a dead body and you’re chitchatting with the women,” Donovan said. “I’ll go, sir.”

  “Who found the body?” Sheriff Huckabee asked. He slid a look at Murphy but didn’t say anything more.

  Valerie said, “Mrs. Anderson, the innkeeper, did.”

  “And where were you, Ms. Norris?” the sheriff wanted to know.

  “I came out of my room”—she pointed to a door nearby—“and saw Murphy.”

  Donovan raced back down the stairs. “The Walters woman’s been murdered, all right. Looks like someone shoved her, hard, into the brick hearth. There are marks on her neck, too, like whoever did it tried to choke her first.”

  “Why did you come out here to the Red Bird, Murphy?” the sheriff asked.

  “I wanted to confront Valerie and clear my name,” Murphy answered. “She’s trying to frame me, like I’ve been telling you all along.”

  “Ms. Norris, you were saying that you saw Murphy when you exited your room,” the sheriff said.

  Valerie patted her blonde hair and slid a glance at Murphy. “Yes, I did see her.”

  James did not like the way this was going.

  “Where was Murphy Alistair coming from when you saw her? Upstairs or downstairs? Think carefully, Ms. Norris.”

  “Downstairs!” Murphy blurted. “I stopped to talk to Joel about our corporation before I came upstairs.”

  Sheriff Huckabee ignored her. “Ms. Norris?”

  Valerie’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I can’t be sure. She was on the landing when I opened my door. She could very well have come from upstairs after she killed poor Kitty Walters like she did Ray Edwards.”

  “Liar!” Murphy howled. “She’s lying, Sheriff. I swear. I met her on this landing. Valerie could just as easily have come from the third floor.”

  Valerie gave a short laugh. “What reason could I have to kill Kitty Walters? We’ve been introduced, but I’ve had little contact with her. Whereas Kitty was Ray Edwards’s fiancée. Murphy’s been played for a fool. And she knows it.”

  James tried to put his arm around Murphy, but Donovan edged him away.

  Sheriff Huckabee nodded at Donovan. “Place M
s. Alistair in cuffs until I can view the crime scene and interview the people here. Make sure no one leaves.”

  Donovan slapped the cuffs on Murphy. Silent tears ran down her cheeks.

  The sheriff started walking upstairs. Lucy followed. James grabbed her arm. “Don’t forget about the secret passageway. Find it and tell the sheriff.”

  Lucy nodded.

  James was left with Donovan and Murphy. Valerie returned to her room.

  “Murphy,” James began, “I think I’ve found an explanation for how—”

  “Shut it, Henry,” Donovan said.

  “Why?” James challenged. “Murphy hasn’t been charged with anything. I mean, not with Kitty Walters’s murder.”

  Donovan sneered. “She will be. And this time, there won’t be any bail for Murderess Murphy.”

  Murphy opened her mouth, but James held a finger to his lips. “Not now. You’ll only make things worse. Donovan, you could at least take Murphy down to the foyer and let her sit down. She looks like she’s about to fall down. You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands, do you?”

  The three of them walked downstairs.

  James saw Deputy Truett taking statements from the actors in the living room. He stayed with Murphy until Sheriff Huckabee returned.

  “Let’s go, Murphy. I’m not arresting you, but I want to question you down at the courthouse.”

  Murphy started crying again. Her forlorn, wretched expression, so different from the confident Murphy he knew, alarmed James.

  Before the sheriff took her away, James pressed her shoulder. “The supper club members and I haven’t given up, Murphy, and won’t. I promise we’ll find out who killed Edwards and Kitty Walters.”

  “Thanks for saying so,” Murphy mumbled. “I’m starting to think I’m beyond any help you and your friends can offer.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  James slid past Deputy Truett and into the kitchen. He called Gillian and explained that Kitty Walters had been murdered and that Murphy was in custody again. He told her about the secret passage and how he felt the supper club members needed an emergency meeting.

  “We can meet at my house, James,” Gillian had said. “Lindy will be here after school. Come around six.”