by Irene Brand
“Because of his meeting with her in the gazebo?” Drew asked.
Mick shook his head. “Not necessarily. We don’t know that woman was his wife. He had told his family that their mother was dead, but in the past few weeks, one of the daughters found out that she wasn’t dead, but that she had been in a mental hospital for years.”
Drew whistled in amazement, having an inkling of what made the Blanchards seem as dysfunctional as his own family.
“No wonder he’s an angry man.”
“He’s also a devious man. Trudy suffered from postpartum depression, and Ronald convinced her that she was a danger to her children. She finally agreed to leave and get treatment for her depression, but she intended to return as soon as she was well.”
Considering how difficult Rissa’s life had been, Drew was glad he had been able to help her over the past several hours. “Then how did she show up here?”
“She escaped from the mental institution a few months ago, and information surfaced that Trudy wasn’t dead at all. Bianca, a corporate lawyer, received a photograph from Leo Santiago dated after her mother’s death and she started questioning the past. She hired Garrett McGraw.”
“Oh,” Drew said, beginning to see where this was leading. “And that’s how McGraw got involved with the Blanchards. My gut tells me that’s the real reason he was killed.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. McGraw was a man who tried to play both ends against the middle. We’re pretty sure he was trying to blackmail Ronald with the information he had sold to Bianca.”
“Who else could have a motive and opportunity to kill Trudy?”
“Howard, her father-in-law. He’s detested Trudy for years. His caregiver can’t watch him all of the time, and he could have slipped downstairs, killed her, gone up the rear stairway and not been discovered.”
“Is there a possibility a woman could have committed the crime? I keep thinking about those strands of hair we found on the shattered door.”
“Sure—several of them. Winnie could have killed her unbalanced sister-in-law to protect the girls from her. And there’s Alannah Stafford, who’s trying desperately to get Ronald to marry her. She wouldn’t have liked having Trudy as a rival. No doubt she’s suspected that he’s always loved his wife. And I assume she has the security code for the gate and the house, so she could go in and out at will.”
“The fact that we don’t have the murder weapon is only going to complicate the case,” Drew said. “Let’s send a couple of cops to search the Blanchard estate from one end to the other.”
“And we can search the manor, but we’ll have to get a search warrant for that. I’ve heard from Portia that there are places in that house where she hasn’t ever been.”
“What about Barbara Sanchez, Ronald’s executive assistant?” Drew asked. “I’ve heard it rumored that Barbara and Ronald are pretty close. There’s been some insinuations that she’s romantically interested in him. Does she seem like the violent type to you?”
“I haven’t seen her often, but as far as I know she’s levelheaded. She’s apparently indispensable to Blanchard Fabrics, but I can’t imagine why anyone who has to work with Ronald Blanchard day after day would want to marry him and live with him twenty-four hours a day. Someone needs to find out where she was on the night of the murder.”
“Is there anyone you want to me to check out while I’m at the manor?” Drew asked.
“If you keep your eyes open there, that’s all I expect you to do. We need about a dozen more men on this job, but we don’t have the resources, so we’ll do the best we can. I want to investigate Tate Connolly, too. He has no love for the Blanchards. Tate and Winnie were engaged as teenagers, but Howard tore them apart with lies and deceit. There was bad blood between the Blanchards and the Connollys for years. Tate and Winnie have seemingly patched up their differences, but Tate could have committed the crime to put Howard in a bad light.”
“It’s about the worst predicament we’ve been involved in for a long time.”
Grimacing, Mick said, “And it’s even worse for me than it is for you. I’m engaged to Portia, and it’s hard to do my duty when my emotions are involved. I hate to do it, buddy, but that’s why I’m shoving so much of this investigation on you. At least you can judge every clue for what it’s worth, and not worry about having to arrest someone who is near and dear to the woman you love.”
Drew stood and looked out the window of the bedroom. Mick’s earlier statement seemed ironic to him. He was glad he could take some of the load from Mick’s shoulders. And he could understand why Mick wouldn’t want to arrest his fiancée’s father. His own personal background prevented him from ever pursuing a closer relationship with Rissa, but regardless, it would sure be difficult to arrest Rissa’s father or her aunt.
His mind refused to accept the possibility that Rissa had as much motive and more opportunity than any of the others to commit the crime.
SEVEN
Exhausted by the traumatic events of the previous night and day, Rissa and the other female members of the family soon went to their rooms. Rissa hoped for a restful night’s sleep, but she was troubled about what had happened during dinner.
Aunt Winnie had asked Drew to eat with them, and Rissa felt sorry for him because he was obviously uncomfortable. He had no idea what to do with the numerous pieces of cutlery surrounding his plate. He had resisted Winnie’s invitation, but at her insistence, he had sat down with them.
Ronald came to the table late, something he’d only recently started doing during the past few weeks when trouble seemed to be hovering over Blanchard Manor. He was halfway seated when he saw Drew. “What’s he doing here?” he snarled at no one in particular.
Since there was only one other man at the table, there was no doubt about whom the “he” was.
“Detective Lancaster is here by my invitation,” Aunt Winnie said, rising to her feet to confront her brother.
Offended, Drew threw the napkin he had just unfolded on the stack of plates before him. “I knew it was a mistake, Miss Blanchard. I appreciate your kindness, but don’t ask me again. I am here on official duty and not as a guest. So please don’t treat me like one.”
He turned on his heel and left the room.
Rissa couldn’t bear having Drew humiliated in this way, and she started to follow him, but Aunt Winnie put her hand on Rissa’s shoulder and forced her to sit down.
“Ronald, how could you?”
“Why couldn’t I?” he retorted, as he waited for the maid to pour his bowl of broccoli-cheese soup. “The man is out to ruin our family, and I don’t want any of you talking to him. And I don’t want him sleeping in the room across the hall from mine. Let him sleep on a blanket in the hall, as far as I’m concerned. He’s supposed to be here guarding us, not sleeping.”
“Do I have to remind you again that I have as much right to make decisions in this house as you do? It’s been convenient for you to have me here taking care of your daughters, which has been the only joy I’ve ever had in my life. And now that they’re grown, I’m sure you think you can drive me away. I won’t go, and Detective Lancaster will stay in the room I’ve given him. After your tirade, I’m sure he won’t accept any food, but he will have a place to sleep.”
During the rest of the meal, no word was spoken at the table except to thank the maid who served their food. Rissa sent back her soup without tasting it, but she did eat a portion of the Swiss steak and a few vegetables. She wrapped two slices of bread and butter in a napkin to take to her room. She hadn’t eaten lunch, and she knew she would be hungry before morning. She didn’t relish the idea of roaming the hall tonight looking for food.
Once inside their room, Portia collapsed on her bed and started crying. Rissa, too angry for tears, sat beside her sister.
“To think our father would act like that,” Portia said. “It’s especially embarrassing because Mick and Drew are good friends. After that display, I’m sure I’ll never get Mick to come here
for dinner. What are we going to do?”
“I would suggest that you and Mick get married quickly. If he isn’t welcome at Blanchard Manor, you can stay away, too. As for me, as soon as I possibly can I’m going back home. The way I feel now, if any of my family wants to see me, they can come to the city.”
“I was surprised that Aunt Winnie invited Drew and that he even agreed to eat with us. I don’t think Mick would have.”
Rissa couldn’t help but wonder if Aunt Winnie suspected her interest in Drew and had invited him for that reason. “She just wanted to be kind, but I wish she hadn’t asked him. He was noticeably uneasy. I felt sorry for him.”
Portia turned over on her back and dried her tears on a tissue Rissa handed her. “He and Mick have worked together four years or so, and Mick suspects that Drew has been scarred by the past, but he doesn’t pry. Drew is a lonely man, not given to discussing personal matters.” She yawned and stretched. Rissa moved toward her own bed in slow motion, wondering if she had enough energy to undress.
The sound of the knob turning on their bedroom door startled her. Portia rolled over and looked at Rissa with frightened eyes. Acutely aware of the danger lurking throughout the house, Rissa said sharply, “Who’s there?”
“Miranda.”
“Come in.”
Miranda had changed to a long nightgown and a matching robe, but she was wide-eyed. “Could one of you stay in the room with me for a while? I just can’t get the image of our mother lying dead in the library out of my mind. I feel so isolated from the rest of you.”
“I’ll go,” Portia said at last. “I don’t think I can go to sleep, either. I’ll sit with you until you’re asleep.”
After her sisters left, Rissa roamed around the room. She didn’t know how to deal with the circumstances of her mother’s murder.
She kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed without removing her clothes. If she could summon the energy, she might take a shower before she put on a nightgown. The events of the past twenty-four hours had left her feeling unclean inside and out. Her mother’s murder. Her father’s hostile attitude. Her nightmare. Drew’s humiliation. So much had happened that it seemed as if a month had passed.
Rissa gasped and sat up in alarm. That woman was wailing again! It was impossible to control her erratic pulse as she listened intently. Low and mournful, it came again, a plaintive moan that became a scream then faded into a whimper.
She didn’t think she had been asleep, so it couldn’t be a nightmare. She looked at the clock. Portia had gone to Miranda’s room two hours ago and she was still dressed. Maybe she had been dreaming.
Once again, a terrible sobbing reached her ears, sobbing that could only have been the result of a flood of tears. When the sobbing ended and a howl of distress circled the room, Rissa jumped out of bed, and, suddenly energized with a surge of adrenaline that a few hours ago she wouldn’t have believed possible, she yanked the door open, leaving it ajar, and ran to her aunt’s room fearing her aunt was being hurt. Frantically she pounded on the door.
“Aunt Winnie! Are you all right?”
When there wasn’t an immediate answer, she pounded again.
“Who is it?” Winnie said groggily.
“Rissa.”
Winnie unlocked and opened the door. She was in pajamas, and her drowsy eyes and disheveled hair indicated that she’d been sound asleep.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Winnie, but I heard someone screaming, and I thought it might be you. I was so scared. Did you hear it?”
“I took a sleeping pill, and I went to bed right after dinner.” The clock in the family room struck, and Winnie said, “It’s only midnight.”
“Did you hear the woman screaming?” Rissa insisted.
“No, I didn’t. You must have been having a nightmare. Go back to bed. And lock your door.”
Rissa didn’t argue when Winnie returned to the room and locked the door behind her. She wandered disconsolately down the hall, but stopped suddenly when she heard light steps on the stairs. The downstairs was lit by the lamp on the table in the hall. Hand over her mouth, she waited to see who was coming.
“Rissa?” Drew’s voice said quietly. She moved where he could see her. “I thought it was you. Is anything wrong?”
She moved down the steps to meet him. “Haven’t you gone to bed?”
He shook his head.
One step above him, with her eyes on a level with his, she asked softly, “Did you hear it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The woman screaming again.”
He shook his head slowly. “When did you hear it?”
“Just now.”
“Were you asleep?”
“I didn’t think so, but more time has passed than I thought. Aunt Winnie didn’t hear the woman, either, but she’d taken a sleeping pill.”
Panic was surging inside her, but she tried to shake off the building terror. “Miranda was feeling edgy and Portia went to her room to keep her company. She didn’t come back. Maybe it was one of them screaming. Maybe something has happened to one of them.”
She turned quickly and ran up the stairs. When she reached the hallway, Drew was at her side. A few hurried steps took them to Miranda’s door. She paused, wondering whether she ought to knock.
She knocked quietly, and when there was no answer, she turned frightened eyes toward Drew. He opened the door and peered cautiously into the room. He quietly pushed the door back so Rissa could see inside. Miranda was lying in bed, and Portia sat in a rocking chair with her feet on an ottoman. Both of them were obviously asleep.
So upset she could hardly breathe, Rissa wandered back down the hall and stopped at her room, her face pale with worry. As they’d walked side by side, Drew had noticed that her body was as taut as a bowstring. He was concerned about her being alone.
“Come downstairs for a minute,” he murmured.
She went with him without argument and he motioned her toward the living room. He took a pizza box off the hall table and followed her.
“How much have you eaten today?” he asked.
“Very little.”
“That’s what I figured.” He commandeered a card table from the closet near the foyer and set it up in the living room. He unfolded two straight chairs and said, “Come and join me.”
She hesitated. “I’m ashamed to eat your food after the way Father acted.”
He dismissed her remark with a wave of his hand and held the chair for her to sit down. “Actually, he did me a favor. I figured I’d be like a fish out of water in the dining room with your family, and I was miserable. That’s not my kind of living. You wouldn’t understand my background any more than I can yours. You’d probably be miserable eating at my mother’s table.”
She didn’t hesitate any longer, for the pizza smelled tempting, and she realized that she was hungry.
He opened the box and lifted a slice onto a paper plate.
“How did you get this?” Rissa asked.
“I’d already placed an order for the food before I came here today. The delivery came shortly before I heard you moving around upstairs. Your aunt gave me the security code so I can admit officers periodically to patrol the grounds.”
“Did you go out on the porch to get the pizza?”
“Yes, but I didn’t close the door,” he replied.
“Then the woman might have screamed while you were outside and you wouldn’t have heard her.”
As attuned as his ears were to what was going on in the Blanchard mansion, he doubted that he would have missed a woman screaming, but he wanted to calm Rissa’s agitation.
“Go ahead and eat your pizza. If she screams again I’ll be sure to hear her.”
He opened a bottle of soda for Rissa and took one himself.
“Tell me about your family,” she said. “You mentioned your mother. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Two younger sisters, but no brothers. They live near Portland, and I try to visit them once a
month.”
She hated to probe, but she wanted to know all she could about Drew. “No father?” she asked hesitantly.
An ironic smile twisted his lips. “Oh, I have a father all right, but I haven’t seen him since I was fifteen.” He decided he might as well make the situation as bad as it really was, so Rissa would know without a doubt that he had no place in her world. “He stayed drunk most of the time and beat up on Mom and me whenever he wasn’t cheating on her. She finally got a divorce, and he skipped town so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. I haven’t seen him for more than twenty years, and I hope I never see him again.”
“So we’re more alike than you think,” she said.
He snorted. “We have nothing in common. Forgive me for snapping at you, but I get angry whenever I think about my dad.”
“I’ve learned that if I don’t forgive my father for the way he is, then I’m the one who suffers,” Rissa said. “Don’t you think you’ve carried the grudge long enough?”
He looked at her, surprised that she was even interested. “You may be right at that.”
“Do you read the Bible?”
“Not since I became a teenager and stopped going to Sunday school.”
She pointed to a bookcase. “There are some Bibles on those shelves, so if you get lonely at night and want to read, perhaps you could read the Bible. I’ve learned a lot about forgiveness from the Scriptures. If you’re going to stay up all night, reading might help you pass the time and give you a spiritual boost, too.”
“I’ll sleep in the daytime. I don’t need a lot of sleep, anyway.”
The pizza tray was empty and she found she did feel better.
“Thanks for sharing your food. You’re good for me. When I’m with you, the tragedy hovering over our family doesn’t seem so insurmountable. I think I can go to sleep now.”
He held out his hand to help her stand and they moved into the hallway together. She glanced toward the library.
“Do you know when the autopsy will be finished?”
“Probably tomorrow or the next day.”
“Father is planning an elaborate funeral and none of us approve of his plans—not that we have anything to say about it. He won’t listen to us.”