“Are you?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. Alex and I are just friends…family. Maybe if things were different,” she broke off and tried again. “But they’re not. He has Coco and I have…I had…” She began to cry quietly.
“I heard you talking to Alex at Black Birches. Did you see him the night Jasper was murdered?”
She wiped at her eyes. “Yes, he called me and I met him down at the harbor. He told me what Jasper said about him and Violet getting married. He wanted me to hear it from someone I…knew.”
“Did he take you back home?”
She regarded me dolefully. “No, I went back alone. He had to get back before Coco realized he’d gone. That was it, Elspeth, that’s all that happened.” She must’ve noticed by skepticism and grabbed my arm. “Please, you have to believe me! I’m not the kind of person to have an affair and Alex is…”
She broke off into a sob and hurried away.
The service was almost over when I slipped back into my pew. I had just enough time before the final procession to offer up a quick prayer for the poor, sick and afflicted (i.e., me and Julia), and a request for strong sales for The Cheesecake Diaries. Father Foy shook hands with me and gave me his disappointed St. Francis look. I guess he’d noticed my absence for most of his sermon.
Julia caught up with me outside. “I swear Father Foy was looking right at me when he was talking about the harlots. I wonder if he heard about my date with Sergeant Jack last week.”
“You better go to confession.”
“Not yet, I need more material. I saw you follow Nora. What’s up?”
I showed her the list and she sucked in her breath. “One of those titles looks familiar, Betts. I saw Sabrina Elliott with One for the Money at the library last week!”
“It’s time I talked to the Elliott sisters,” I said grimly.
Chapter 22
I’ve always wanted a sister.
Growing up I read about the Marches and Bennets and the Ya-Yas and watched The Lemon Sisters and The Banger Sisters and The Parent Trap. I looked with envy at my friends who had sisters, picturing endless nights of hair curling, giggling and talking about cute boys. Sisters had their own language, their own private code…
Sisters had your back.
I watched Sabrina Elliott pour me a cup of coffee. We were sitting in the kitchen at Dovecote, the handsome, two-story brick house Sabrina and Rose shared on Point Savage. It was a cozy space with a red potbelly stove and tobacco-colored walls covered in watercolors of the Hudson River Valley. Sabrina finished pouring and pushed the mug to me through a mass of mums, pinecones, orange and black ribbon and rolls of craft wire scattered across the kitchen table.
“Sorry about the mess. Rose and Coco Ware are making wreaths for the St. Anne’s Fall Festival.”
She looked out of the window and sighed.
“Have you and Rose always lived together?” I asked.
“Not always. But when our parents died Rose was all alone and asked me to come back here and stay with her. I’ve sometimes wondered whether I made the right choice.”
“The two of you seem to get along well.”
She laughed. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing. We had a long adjustment period before we established some boundaries. Some subjects are off-limits, even to a sister.”
“Like Jasper Ware?”
Sabrina colored and stirred her coffee. “I suppose you’ve heard all the old gossip about Jasper and me.”
“I heard you were engaged.”
She nodded. “Three years ago. He broke it off to marry Nora.”
“Why?”
“Her family had money; mine didn’t.” Sabrina couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone and I regarded her intently.
“That must’ve been difficult for you.”
“You have no idea! For some reason people expect a professor of feminine theory to be immune from being feminine. A lot of people were happy to see me fall flat on my face. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to go out in public again.”
“But you forgave him?”
She flushed. “Where did you get that idea?”
“I figured out your book list, Sabrina.”
Her face turned white and she nodded. “I was worried someone might put that together; it wasn’t the most sophisticated system. The plan was never designed to withstand the scrutiny of a murder investigation.”
“When did you re-start your affair with Jasper?”
“Last year.” She noticed my expression and colored angrily. “You have no idea, Elspeth, what it’s like to be so crazy in love with someone, and there was a side to Jasper you never saw. He could be gentle and vulnerable and kind. When we first met I was so in love I couldn’t see straight. And then he left me to marry Nora, I figured it was all over. I even brought a lawsuit just to irritate him, though I knew I didn’t stand a chance of winning. But then Jasper came to see me. He told me how unhappy he was with Nora, how he had made a terrible mistake. He told me that I was the only woman he ever…”
She stopped and looked at the wall above my head. Her mouth thinned into an angry line. “Anyway, I agreed to meet him. And when I did it was incredible… just like nothing had ever happened. I know it was wrong, but he told me that his divorce was only a matter of time; that in six months he’d be free.”
“So you kept meeting him?”
She nodded. “Jasper came up with a system for our meetings. He would pick a day and choose a book title with that day in it and send it to me. I would pick the time and then he would pick the place. We only had two locations; Hotel du Lac was code for Captain Swift’s Inn. The other hotel was Hotel Rwanda, which was the Dew Drop Inn at Pelham. Anyone finding the notes would just see a book list. It worked up until a few weeks ago. That’s when I heard Jasper and Nora were getting divorced. I was so excited! He’d been promising to leave her for so long I’d almost given up hope. I called him to talk about it but he told me we had to hide everything until the divorce was final. I was a fool to trust him, but I did, I was on cloud nine. I thought there was no obstacle to our being together.
“And then you found out about him and Violet?”
She nodded. “The night of your book reading I slipped him one of our lists. Then, Violet announced that she was going to marry Jasper! I knew it couldn’t be true! He couldn’t do that to me again! I saw Jasper go upstairs at Inkwell. I waited until no one was watching and then I followed him upstairs.”
She caught my expression and broke off suddenly. “I didn’t kill him, Elspeth, I swear I didn’t! When I got upstairs he was already dead. I felt for a pulse and got blood on my hands. I didn’t know what to do so I ran back downstairs. Rose saw me go into the restroom and came to talk to me. She saw the blood. She told me not to worry, that she would take care of things. I was so upset I couldn’t think straight…”
“And after the book reading?”
“We were here. We came home and didn’t leave the house again until after Violet’s body had been found.”
“Why didn’t you just come forward?”
“I was afraid! I was one of the last people to see Jasper alive and everyone knew how much we supposedly hated each other! Anyway, I lied and said I had been with Rose when the lights went off.” Sabrina broke down and wept inconsolably. “You have no idea what it’s like to love someone so much… and to hate him so much.”
She ran from the room and I heard the sound of her footsteps going up the stairs. I took our cups to the sink and got my bag. When I turned to go and saw Rose standing at the kitchen door, regarding me silently.
“Sabrina wasn’t feeling well, she went up to her room.”
Rose didn’t say anything and I grew uncomfortable in the tense silence. When she finally spoke her voice was harsh and bitter. “Jasper Ware got exactly what he deserved.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t think many people in All Hallows would disagree with you.”
Rose shook her head. “Poor Sabrina. She was so in love with Jasper.”
“You knew she was seeing him again?”
“Of course I knew! You don’t live with someone for eight years without getting to know them fairly well.”
“And you knew Sabrina wasn’t with you when the lights went out at Inkwell?”
“My sister isn’t a murderer,” she said firmly. “But if anyone deserved to be murdered it was Jasper Ware.”
“So you said.” I stopped as another thought came to me. “Did you turn off the lights at Inkwell?”
“Yes. I saw Sabrina come downstairs. I knew from the expression on her face something was wrong so I followed her to the bathroom. She told me what she’d seen and she showed me the blood on her hands. I told her to wait for my cue and then go back up front. I tripped the fuse box and cut myself with the letter opener. When the lights came back on everyone assumed the blood on Sabrina was from my cut.”
“You’re a good sister.”
She sighed. “Did you know Jasper left Sabrina a week before their wedding? A week! She already had the last fitting for her gown. It cost over five-thousand dollars.”
My mind was racing. “Did Jasper offer to pay for it?”
Rose gave a harsh bark of laughter. “He told Sabrina it was her own fault for spending so much on something she would only wear a few hours.”
“But she forgave him?”
Rose shook her head. “Like I said, Sabrina was in love with Jasper. She was always willing to forgive him.”
“Until Violet?” She didn’t answer and I continued. “That night at Inkwell, you were the one who realized the scene was set up like Deadly Harbor.”
“I never forget a book, Elspeth.”
I looked at her with dawning comprehension. “And you had realized something about Jasper’s writing.”
She nodded. “Yes, his voice was slowly evolving. His main character, Inspector Grimaldi, started as one-dimensional and static. He was getting more interesting, more complex…more feminine.”
“You figured it out, you knew!”
Rose nodded. “It was justice, Elspeth. I only wanted to get back what Jasper owed Sabrina.”
“So you decided to get your revenge. You sent Jasper a blackmail note telling him to leave five thousand at St. Anne’s.”
She smiled. “I thought that was rather clever. I was going to donate the money to St. Anne’s, anyway.”
“But Jasper found out?”
“Yes, he confronted me at the book reading. I asked him what he intended to do, and he told me he was going to hold onto the note in case he needed it later. After he died, I was afraid the police might trace it back to me so I went down to the studio to find it…”
“It was you!” I exclaimed. “You broke into the studio that night!”
“Yes, I wanted to get the note back, but I couldn’t find it.”
I sat back and observed her warily. “Rose, do you have any proof that Sabrina didn’t commit these murders? She had the perfect motive and opportunity.”
“But no means, Elspeth!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “She never had a dagger and she wasn’t even carrying a handbag the night of the book reading. And she didn’t have the scarf that was used to kill Violet.”
“But she could’ve gotten both rather easily. Your collections for St. Anne’s gave you access to every house in All Hallows.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I can provide her with an alibi for both Violet and Crispin. We came home after the book reading and were together the rest of the night, and the night of Crispin’s death we went to the Essex Fall Festival and then came straight home. Father Foy came over and showed us pictures of his last vacation to Branson. Neither of us left the house again.”
I regarded her skeptically, and not just because of the assertion someone would choose to vacation in Branson. “You’ve lied for Sabrina before,” I pointed out. “Why should I believe you now?”
“There’s no reason to lie. Jasper’s dead. The affair is over. Hopefully, Sabrina will be able to get on with her life. Hopefully, both of us will be able to get on with our lives.”
Rose hurried from the room, leaving me alone in their big, empty kitchen. I picked up my bag and made the short walk back to my house.
Sabrina’s explanation made sense, but the story also meant she had the motive and opportunity to kill both Jasper and Violet. The only thing missing was the means. Had Sabrina asked Violet to buy the dagger for her? Why? Then there was the scarf. Nora thought she had given the scarf away. To who? To Sabrina Elliott? To Rose?
My head was swimming as I sat down at my laptop. I couldn’t decide who was giving me more grief: Tessa Oglesby, Paula, Nora or Sabrina Elliott.
Or maybe the sixth candidate: the shadowy murderer of All Hallows.
Chapter 23
Liddell had commanded my presence at the police station the next day, but I had some free time before lunch, so I wandered down the boardwalk and pushed open the door marked E. Archer, Prop.
He came out from the backroom looking decidedly bashful, as if he had been caught in some prank.
“I was just carving my pumpkin.”
I looked down at his heavily bandaged hands. “Have you ever carved a pumpkin before?”
“When I was little,” he admitted. “It seems like I was much handier with a knife back then.” He looked down at me and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Betts.”
He used my nickname! I felt a ridiculously warm glow, as if he had just held my hand.
“I want to invite you to come to dinner with me.”
“I would enjoy that,” he said simply.
“Are you free tomorrow night? Remington Tavern?
“Sound perfect. I’ll pick you up.”
We agreed on the time and I looked around the shop. “Looks like you’re all moved in,”
The space was charmingly cluttered with objets d’art and knick-knacks. A round Ridgeway grandmother clock ticked near the front door, and the bay windows were crowded with Staffordshire dogs and Churchill china. Antique maps stretched across the walls, depicting adventurous worlds of sea serpents and islands in the Atlantic, and Ingrid was curled up on a penny rug, adding a cozy domesticity to the scene.
I noticed a few customers browsing and saw Bootsie Spright leaning against the counter, obviously eavesdropping on us.
“I found your books,” Edgar said expectantly. “I read Love in the Time of Cake.”
I was wary. I knew what most men thought of romance books. “What did you think?”
“It made me hungry.”
I flushed and smiled. “It was supposed to.”
“Oh, good, I was beginning to worry I was some kind of deviant.” He reached over and pulled a book from behind the counter. “Here, I saw this and thought it might interest you.”
I read the title aloud: “Babbet’s Guide for Modern Manners: An A to Z Look at Manners and Mores in an Inelegant Age.”
“I thought you could use it for the characters in your books,” he explained. “It has something for everyone…like what to do if you are offered a baby to kiss and you don’t want to kiss it.”
I remembered the baby in the Superman costume and took the book gratefully. “Will it cover how to greet my former brother-in-law’s third wife at a funeral?”
“Assuredly. There is also valuable information on issuing invitations for pre-dinner drinks without an invitation to the actual dinner, and what wines to drink at a christening.”
He flipped through the book and coming to a chapter on Kissing, leaned towards me in a provocative manner. “I’d be very interested in your opinions on this.”
I blushed in maidenly modesty, and turned to encounter the shining face of Bo
otsie Spright at my elbow. She looked at me and then at Edgar and giggled.
“Hi, Bootsie,” I said resignedly. “How’s your writing going?”
She grinned. “Did Paula tell you we talked?”
“No. How did it go?”
“Oh, she’s a peach! And her bassets are just adorable.”
Those weren’t the words I would’ve chosen to describe either Paula or her slavering beasts, but I supposed beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
Bootsie turned towards Edgar. “Are you busy with this customer?”
“I’ll say,” Edgar gave me a wolfish smile before he turned back to Bootsie. “Can I help you find something?”
I left him to Bootsie and drove back to my cottage. The coffeepot was still on, and I got out a mug and glanced down at Babbett’s Guide. I would give it to Julia when I was done. Maybe there was etiquette on discussing mystery-solving cats.
I’d just poured my cup when I startled by the sound of a faint ‘yip’ from the other room. I rose cautiously and tiptoed towards the hall. Everything was silent. I stopped at the doorway of the living room and held my breath, watching a middle-aged blonde woman run her finger along my mantel.
“It only takes a few minutes to dust, Elspeth.”
“Hi, Mom,” I said weakly.
Chapter 24
“Hi, sweetie.” She grabbed me and kissed me soundly on the mouth. Yes, my mom still kisses me on the mouth. I know, right?
“It’s good to see you, Mom. What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you get my messages?”
“No, sorry.”
She sighed. “You’re hopeless with phones. I’ve been trying to call you for days. Your father and I were on our way through and thought we’d stop by and see you. We were worried!”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Golfing.”
“Is he worried, too?”
“Don’t be smart, Elspeth. We heard about those murders on television and then you didn’t return my calls! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Murder Actually Page 17