She snorted. “Oh c’mon, Elspeth. I know you’re trying to get him back.”
I was speechless. Maybe she was drunk? It was a little early but you never knew with television people. “As much as I admire your tremendous powers of deduction, you’ve miscalculated both the allure of Grant’s charms and my own level of desperation.”
Ainsley was undeterred. “I just wanted you to know that Grant and I are going to be married. And it will be soon. So, whatever fantasies you’ve concocted about the two you getting back together…”
I interrupted her. “Look, Ainsley, I have absolutely no desire to have Grant back in my life. If you remember, he came to see me, not vice versa.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“I’m working.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Elspeth.”
This remark brought me up short. Was it possible I was looking at Grant in any particular way? I’d just assumed my expression reflected the irritation, annoyance and exasperation I always felt in his presence, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe those looks of intense impatience appeared to others as melting glances of adoration. I nearly shuddered at the thought but my reply was interrupted by the breathless arrival of Julia.
“There you are, Betts,” she exclaimed loudly. “I was wondering what happened to you! There’s someone I want you to meet. Good to see you again, Ainsley.”
She dragged me away and Ainsley watched us go, a scowl on her pretty face.
“Thanks, Julia; I was trying to find a way to deny I had designs on Grant while keeping a straight face.”
Julia studied me curiously. “Do you want him back?”
“No, but it’s gratifying I could get him back if I wanted to.”
“Forget about Grant, we have bigger fish to fry. Crispin is here.”
“Where?”
“By the French doors. Are you ready?”
I opened my bag and took out a tattered note. It was a rough facsimile of the blackmail letter from Jasper’s safety deposit box, and had been distressed under the wheels of Julia’s Range Rover to give it an authentic look.
Crispin was busy with his camera and barely glanced up as I approached. I noticed he was wearing another of his bowties and a knit vest, further reinforcing my theory that no man over the age of five should wear a sweater vest.
“Hi, Elspeth. Have you tracked down the Hound of the Baskervilles, yet?”
I ignored him and thrust the note under his nose. He looked at me curiously, read through it, and then stopped and gaped at me.
“What’s this?”
“I think you know, Crispin.”
“I have no idea.”
“It’s the blackmail note you sent to Jasper Ware!”
Crispin eyebrows shot up. “Blackmail?
“Oh, c’mon, Crispin,” I said impatiently. “I distinctly heard you refer to Jasper as a hack and that’s the same reference in this note. It’s not a term you hear very often.”
“I’m quite certain it’s an appellation Jasper heard frequently in his career.” He thrust the note back at me. “It’s an interesting idea, Elspeth, but I never tried to blackmail Jasper and I have no idea what he could’ve done to warrant blackmail.”
Crispin turned to go and I raised my voice.
“Just a minute, Crispin. Jasper had controlling interest in the Gazette and was threatening to change your format. And unless I miss my guess, he was also threatening to get rid of the editor-in-chief. I know the Gazette is your life, and I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to that paper.”
Crispin turned back to me and scowled. “Jasper’s suggestions were ridiculous! He wanted to turn the Gazette into some sensational tabloid rag. I told him there was no room for that kind of business model in All Hallows. This isn’t that kind of town.”
“Which kind?” I snapped. “You mean the blackmailing, murdering kind?”
“You can believe whatever you want, Elspeth, but I would never have stooped to blackmailing Jasper. It would’ve made me no better than he was.”
Crispin sounded so sure of himself, so outraged, that I started to feel slightly uncertain.
Then I remembered the body count and plowed ahead. “You were bitterly angry with Jasper and you were desperate to stop him. You followed him upstairs at the book reading and then killed him.”
“Where did I get the dagger?”
“Violet Ambler! You commissioned her to get it for you and then killed her to shut her up.”
“That’s ridiculous! Why wouldn’t I have just bought the dagger myself?”
“You didn’t want it traced back to you.”
“It seems an unnecessarily convoluted scenario. I could’ve just got a gun and shot Jasper in some dark alley.”
“You weren’t thinking clearly. You were blind with rage.”
He laughed. “Have you met me? I’m not exactly the blind with rage type.”
“Everyone has their breaking point.”
Crispin shook his head. “Not me. I never went upstairs that night and even your detective theories have to obey the laws of physics. I was so busy taking pictures I scarcely had time to…” he stopped suddenly and his face paled. He raised a shaky hand to his brow.
“What is it, Crispin?”
“The pictures…” he murmured.
“What about the pictures?”
“The photographs from my camera, the ones I took that night. I thought I saw something…” His voice broke off as he stared into the distance. He looked like he was in a trance.
“I could have sworn I saw…on the stairs…”
“Crispin?” I asked tentatively.
The expression on his face cleared. “Nothing. Sorry, I had a brain freeze. Anyway, to answer your very impertinent allegations: no, I didn’t kill Jasper and no, I didn’t kill Violet.”
“And you weren’t blackmailing Jasper?”
“Absolutely not. I’m an editor, not a blackmailer.”
We stood looking at each other a few minutes. He was sweating profusely, but his expression was earnest and I knew he was telling me the truth.
Damn, damn, damn.
“Okay, Crispin. If you remember anything else from that night, please call me.”
I wrote down my number and handed it to him. He thrust it into his jacket pocket without a glance. “Thanks, Elspeth. I’ll sleep better knowing you and Julia are on the case.”
I wandered away, feeling deflated, and noticed Coco Ware standing by the bar.
“Hello, Coco.”
“Hello, again, Elspeth. Our paths keep crossing. How delightful.”
I ignored her sarcasm. “Is Alex with you tonight?”
“He’s around somewhere. We’ve had another exhausting day. Jasper left Alex a share of his book royalties and we had to go to his publisher to figure out commissions and all that.”
She waved an elegant hand, as if the disposal of millions of dollars of assets was a mere weekend diversion.
“I heard Jasper’s estate was quite large.”
“Yes,” her tone was noncommittal. “Alex is thinking about giving up Ware Realty. He has so many obligations now and we’re considering a move back to Manhattan. It’s been lovely being here in All Hallows but one does get tired of not having any decent restaurants.”
How can one tire of The Hobo Hut? I wanted to ask. And when does one start referring to oneself as ‘one’? Was it after the two million mark?
“Why did you move to All Hallows?”
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “It seemed quaint, and I was tired of the Hamptons.”
Does one get tired of the Hamptons? “Yes,” I replied sympathetically. “I could see where you might get bored, but you’ve done so much for the community! There’s your work with the D.A.R., and Rose Elliott was tell
ing me you’ve been helping her collect for the St. Anne’s rummage sale for months.”
Coco’s expression changed and her eyes went from bored to wary. “Yes, it’s for a good cause. We need a new roof on the chapel.”
“You didn’t pick up anything from Nora Ware, did you?”
Coco laughed. “Of course we did! Nora is notorious for buying clothes she never wears. Most of the things I got from her still had price tags on them.” Her expression changed and she smiled at me. “This has been…lovely, but can you excuse me, Elspeth? I simply must talk to Crispin about the next D.A.R. luncheon.”
I watched her hurry across the room as Alex Ware approached. His eyes were glazed from whiskey and his expression was jovial. “Hello, Elspeth. How’s the snooping going?”
I was in no mood to object to the characterization. “Okay. It’s frustrating, though. Every time I think I’m headed down the right path I realize something new about the case and have to change my mind.”
“I believe they’re called red herrings,” he said.
“Well, I call them annoying.”
“Maybe you’re in the wrong business.”
“Maybe I am, but I’m going to see this through. Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you lie about going home after the book reading?”
He regarded me warily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. You met with Nora. I heard you talking to her at the funeral.”
An inscrutable expression flashed across his features and then was gone. “Yes, I met with Nora that night, but I never went back to Black Birches and I didn’t go to the studio.”
“You lied.”
“To protect Nora!”
“You’d do anything to protect her, wouldn’t you?”
“Listen to me, Elspeth. If there’s direct evidence connecting me to the murders the police can come and arrest me. And do you know why they haven’t? Because that evidence doesn’t exist!”
“So, you’re denying you were at Jasper’s studio that night?”
“Categorically. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with my wife.”
I watched him walk away and went to track down Julia. She was enduring a graphic account of Professor Walsh’s latest abdominal skirmish, and was pathetically grateful when I pulled her away.
“Thanks, Elspeth. I’m not sure I could’ve taken much more talk about innards. It’s the most disgusting word on the planet.”
I told her about my conversations with Crispin and Alex and shook my head. “I’m zero for two; I’m going to call it a night.”
“Don’t worry, Elspeth, we’ll figure this out,” she said confidently.
I didn’t share Julia’s buoyancy and I left the party feeling discouraged. I could’ve sworn Crispin Wickford’s astonishment over the blackmail note hadn’t been feigned, but if Crispin wasn’t the blackmailer who was?
I got home and let Blue in for his dinner. He was on a diet and restricted to two small portions per day. He gave his bowl one disgusted sniff and then sauntered away. I suspected Rose and Sabrina were feeding him on the sly and decided to give them some brochures on feline obesity when I noticed there was a message on my phone.
It was Crispin Wickford. He sounded excited and breathless. “Elspeth, listen to me, it’s Crispin. I have something to tell you. I remembered something from that night, something about my camera and those photographs. I’d totally forgotten about it at the time, but I’m pretty sure it was…it’s crazy…there’s no way she could have…never mind...it’s just too incredible. Call me… I’m at the office.”
Beep. The phone at the other end had clicked.
Dead.
I grabbed my cell phone with trembling fingers and dialed the number of the Gazette.
No answer.
I decided to head downtown and talk to Crispin in person.
Chapter 20
The night sky was overcast as I parked in front of the Gazette office, and the lights from the boardwalk did little to dispel the gloom in the empty streets. I pulled my sweater close and shivered.
It was a spooky night.
The clouds obscured the pale moonlight, and I could almost believe the Old Dutch superstitions about the witching hour and favorite haunts of ghosts and goblins. As I hurried down the street I was suddenly reminded of the creepy line from Macbeth:
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes...something wicked this way comes...
I gave myself a mental shake and cautiously approached the front windows of the Gazette. The shutters were closed tightly and I couldn’t hear any noises inside.
I tried the front door.
Locked.
Of course it was locked! Even if Crispin was working late he wouldn’t just leave the door open. I banged loudly and stopped to listen.
Nothing.
The Gazette was in a strip of shops along High Street, and I walked to the corner and turned towards the back of the store. The space was poorly lit, and I felt a shiver of fear as I looked down the dark alley.
Anyone could be down there.
Waiting…
…watching.
“Get a grip, Elspeth,” I said aloud. “It’s just an alley.”
The words barely left my mouth when I was startled by the sound of a door closing somewhere close by. I peered into the gloom and could just make out a dark figure hurrying down the corridor.
“Crispin!” I called out. “Wait!”
My voice rang out shrilly and I sensed the figure turn to look at me. I instinctively drew back into the shadows, my breath coming hard and fast.
It couldn’t be Crispin.
It was too tall.
Whoever it was seemed to be trying to seek me out in the darkness, the head moving restlessly from side-to-side, and I held my breath until it turned and moved silently and swiftly down the alley.
I briefly considered giving chase when my basic training from horror movies kicked in.
Rule Number One: The woman who goes down a dark alley alone with a murderer on the loose always ends up dead.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Julia.
Ten long minutes later she was by my side.
“What are we doing?” she asked excitedly.
I noticed she was dressed head to toe in sleek black. “You look like Johnny Cash.”
“Thanks. What are we doing?”
I explained to her about the message Crispin left on my machine.
“We have to get in there! I wish we had Ms. Weebles, or even Blue. Cats are notoriously adept at breaking and entering.”
I shook my head. “Leave my cat out of this. He still hasn’t recovered from you entering him in that cat show last fall.”
“We would’ve won if he’d kept on the wig. C’mon…” She tugged me in the direction of the Gazette door.
“We can’t get in that way, Julia. I already tried, it’s locked.”
Julia silently produced a paperclip from her handbag straightened it. She worked for a few minutes and let out a sound of satisfaction as we heard a soft click.
I was amazed. “How did you learn to do that?”
Julia returned the paperclip to her purse. “If you’ve locked yourself out of your house as many times as I have you learn to be resourceful. These little doorknobs are simple.”
I was a little concerned about Julia’s criminal capabilities and even more concerned about her forgetfulness, but our attention was diverted as the door to the Gazette swung slowly open with a low creaking noise.
I looked fearfully back down the alley, but could detect no one lurking in the shadows.
“You go first, Elspeth,” Julia whispered.
“Me! Why?”
“Because
I’m just the sidekick! If one of us is going to be killed it will be me!”
“Sidekick? You’re running this show, Buffy.”
“Just go.”
“Fine, but if I die you need to go to my house and get rid of everything in the top drawer of my bedside table.”
“Done. And the same goes for me.”
We entered cautiously, Julia keeping a death grip on the back of my sweater.
“You’re choking me.”
“Sorry.”
She slightly loosened her grasp and I let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness. I could just make out some file cabinets against the wall and a sink and cabinets.
“I think this is the break area,” I whispered. “Crispin’s office is at the front of the building.”
“Let’s go.”
I groped my way down the hallway, feeling along the wall for any light fixtures. Either my hands were too low or too high because I came up empty. We passed by a restroom and another small room filled with cabinets. I could see chinks of light ahead and realized the moonlight was shining through the plantation shutters at the front of the shop.
“I should be able to find a light when we get near the door.”
We stepped into the front office and my hand found a switch just inside the door.
“Finally.”
It was the first time I had used my normal voice, and we both jumped as the space flooded with light.
“Look at that!” Julia pointed towards Crispin’s desk.
It was a disaster.
The desktop was riddled with papers, photographs and files, and the drawers had all been pulled open and emptied onto the floor. File cabinets on either side of the desk were likewise looted and the waste baskets overturned, adding to the chaos of the scene.
We made slow progress towards the desk, and as we approached I let out a sigh of relief.
I’d fully expected to find Crispin’s bloody corpse laying there and I smiled as I turned back to Julia. “I’m glad that’s over.”
Julia clearly didn’t share my relief, and her expression was horrified as she raised a shaking hand towards the dark corner opposite the desk.
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