Kuri Shui – Interior designer who worked with victim at Klein and Associates. Was physically manhandled by Roland. Threatened to tell Nate about his abuse. Roland mentioned if she did, he would tell her husband about something. Lives in East Hampton.
Freya Rittenhouse – Host and producer of local Hamptons Home & Garden television show. Was seen in photo with her hand on Roland’s. She is the one who came to him about being on the design team for the showhouse. Not an interior decorator. Were Roland and Freya having an affair behind Jenna’s back?
Frank Holden – Paranormal investigator who was found on the grounds the same time the body was found on the beach. Not a very good ghosthunter, he lost his EVP recorder (another smile after I explained what an EVP did). Frank was taken down to the station with Jenna. They were the only two. Claims to have lost his cell phone and was looking for it when the officer found him.
Under the column for our victim he’d written:
Roland Cahill – Jenna’s husband of six months. Murdered with extension cord (another glance in my direction when he’d written what I dictated; I just shrugged my shoulders and batted my eyelashes). Wanted to sell Enderly Hall. Had a prenup with Jenna. Owned Queens construction company before marrying into Jenna’s moneyed family. Manhandled Kuri’s wrist. Was served court papers. Had Jenna on surveillance on his phone. Drove a silver Mercedes. Allowed paranormal investigators on the premises, which upset Jenna. Loved the limelight. Chief operating office of Vicki’s company, Veronica’s Interiors. Bought Jenna a gun for protection. Planned to forge papers saying that Stanford White was Enderly Hall’s architect.
After everyone was listed, I got up and stood next to Patrick. We stayed silent and studied the board. “I think under Jenna’s name we better add the way her grandfather died and that he shot someone who trespassed on Enderly’s property right before his death. I think because of the polar bear head with the bills in its mouth, there’s gotta be some kind of connection to the past. Also, the same day as the murder, Shepherds Cottage had been trashed. And I smelled pipe tobacco.”
“Wow,” he said, looking down at me, “good nose.”
“Because of my hearing loss, I think I make up for it in other ways.” He gently nodded his head like he understood, then I went on about the connection to Gardiners Island and Captain Kidd, along with Jenna having some kind of familial tie to the Gardiners, going way back to the seventeenth century. “What I don’t get is how Roland’s murder is tied to things only having to do with Jenna’s family. It makes me wonder if perhaps Jenna might be next on the killer’s list.”
Patrick didn’t answer, engrossed in the list before him. This was the first time we’d been alone together for any length of time—I could get used to it. Even though we were discussing a man’s murder, I was feeling warm and fuzzy about being in such close quarters. But I’d been escaping reality for too long, and when I got back to my cottage, I’d have to face the facts—as sketchy as they were.
“I think I’ve taken up too much of your time. I really enjoyed breakfast. Can I ask a favor?”
“Of course,” he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Do you mind taking a few photos of our board and texting or emailing them to me. I left my phone at home. Or maybe we could meet later to go over any new developments after I talk to Jenna and Officer Moss?”
A female voice called up from the bottom of the stairs, “Yoo-hoo, Patrick darling, you up there in your hidey-hole? Olly olly oxen free, come out, come out, wherever you are. What does that mean, anyway?” I heard Ashley say, the sound of her heels on the wood steps echoing up the stairwell.
Patrick hadn’t answered my query about getting together.
Or maybe he had—by Ashley’s arrival.
.
Chapter 21
After I’d hiked back from Patrick’s, I found Elle sitting on the swing that hung under the eaves of my cottage.
“You have a key,” I said, taking a seat next to her, “why didn’t you go inside?”
“Uh, because this is the first day with no fog and I wanted to revel in it. Where have you been? And what’s with that rosy glow to your cheeks? The Barrett blotches? What’s up?”
Elle knew me too well. However, my flushed cheeks had nothing to do with Patrick Seaton, but more to do with his publicist and the fact that I’d agreed to meet her later at the cottage she planned on buying. Ashley had cornered me, saying, “When we were at your neighbor Claire’s last New Year’s Eve, I saw how spectacular her cottage turned out. She said it was all due to you, and I was really impressed. It’s exactly the style I want, except for a few things my better half might want to add. But he trusts my taste.” I hadn’t even been able to glance in Patrick’s direction after that statement, and when he offered to walk me home, I’d declined, mumbling something about enjoying the fresh air.
As I’d walked the shoreline home, I’d tried to come up with some way of getting out of meeting Ashley, let alone spending blocks of time with her as her interior decorator. Knowing she hadn’t signed the closing papers, I could always call my friend Barb at Sand and Sun Realty and try to find some loophole that would keep Ashley from moving to Montauk. Selfishly, I didn’t want her here, even if it was only for the summer season. Then I’d reasoned with the green-eyed monster. If Ashley wanted to move to Montauk to be with Patrick, there was nothing I could do about it. In fact, I needed to let the whole Patrick thing go. His reaction to me holding the photo of his wife and child told me volumes about the amount of baggage he’d bring with him into any relationship. Plus, I learned from watching tearjerker movies like A Message in a Bottle—it was hard to compete with a ghost.
“I just had breakfast at Patrick Seaton’s,” I reluctantly told Elle, knowing she would run with its possible significance.
“Well, that explains it.”
“Not exactly.” Then I told her the whole story, including the part about the photo and Ashley showing up.
“If you don’t want to meet with her, why’d you say yes?”
I gave her “the look.”
“We don’t know for sure that she’s in any kind of relationship with Patrick. It could be totally professional. Just a caring publicist and friend. Plus, it might be too soon because of Cole. I don’t think you’re totally over Cole. I heard how upset you were when you found out he was missing at sea, and I also heard how relieved you were when he’d been rescued.”
“Rescued in more ways than one. And I’m over him. There’s no doubt about that,” I snapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hold that thought.” I got up and went inside to get my phone. Jo was nowhere to be found, a good sign she was up to something naughty. She liked to find small pieces of clothing, things like a sock or a scarf, then bury them in her litter box. It was her way of telling me she wasn’t happy that I’d cut her down from three meals a day to two. The brat.
When I came back out to the deck with my phone, I scrolled through my photos for the screenshot I’d taken of Cole in a lip-lock with his chief mate. After finding it, tapping it, then enlarging it so that all you saw were Cole’s and Billie’s faces, specifically where their two mouths fused into one, I flashed it in front of Elle’s face.
“Oh, jeez! What a rat,” was all she could come up with.
I sat back down. “I said yes to see the cottage because Ashley is so darn nice . . .”
“But you don’t want to see Ashley and Patrick together, in case they’re in a relationship. I get it,” Elle said. “Especially after the quaint little morning you two shared.”
“I’m swearing off men,” I said, gazing out at the open expanse of sea and sky. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” Elle asked innocently.
“What you always say when it comes to my love life . . . ‘There’s plenty of fish in the ocean.’”
“I wasn’t going to say that. But if I did, I usually say fish in the sea, not ocean. What I plann
ed on saying is we have bigger fish to fry than your love life.” She laughed at her own joke. “Like, what we’re going to do about Jenna. I just spent the last couple of hours with her. I made her call the psychiatrist that her husband had mentioned when we ran into him Friday in Amagansett. Was that only a couple of days ago? Tragic. Roland Cahill was a buffoon, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered. Anyway, Dr. Sorenson couldn’t come into his office because it’s a Sunday, but he did prescribe some medication for her, which we picked up.”
“Wow. You just reminded me of something. The afternoon that Roland mentioned the psychiatrist, I had a feeling he saw the guy too. Maybe Morgana can take a look at his files?”
“That might backfire if she has to look through Jenna’s also. What if Jenna told the doctor she thought Roland was trying to kill her. It wouldn’t help eliminate her as a suspect. That’s for sure.”
“Where is Jenna, right now?”
“She’s back at the yacht club. Hey, isn’t she staying in Cole’s . . .”
“Suite. Yes. The least he could do!”
Elle high-fived me. “Atta girl. You always preach, anger’s better on the emotional scale than depression. I should know after spending time with Jenna. She’s definitely depressed, and rightly so.”
“Thanks for being with her. When I ran into Patrick on the beach, I didn’t have my phone. Speaking of which, I better read my messages.” I opened my phone again, and sure enough there was a message from Morgana that I needed to go to the East Hampton Town Police Department substation in Montauk and give a formal statement. I handed my phone to Elle so she could read it.
“It sounds like you’re lucky Officer Morgana Moss showed up yesterday. Arthur wanted me to let you know he would keep in contact with her about the case. He tried to go through the proper channels, but Chief Pell must have put him on the Do Not Share list.”
“I can’t understand what’s going on with the chief. He’s never been this bad. Is there something you know that I don’t?”
“If there were, Arthur wouldn’t share it with me. Something is going on with him. I plan on having a chat with him the next time he’s in town. We decided to make this long-distance thing work contingent on the fact that he’d come to the Hamptons every weekend. Well, guess what? I haven’t seen him in two weeks. He better show up for the engagement party or you’ll need to change the venue to a broken engagement party,” she said wistfully, handing me back my phone.
I stowed it in my pocket and pressed my hand against the left side of her jaw until she faced me. “Look me in the eye, Elle Mabel Warner. You don’t mean that. Do you?”
She shrugged her shoulders, looked away and said, “I guess not. We’ll get through it, I suppose.”
“There’s no supposing. I know Arthur Shoner. He loves you with all his heart. Buck up, things could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could be like me, an old maid living alone with a one-eyed cat.”
“Meg Barrett, since you’ve moved to Montauk your love life has been epic. I’m not shedding any crocodile tears for you. Let’s say we go inside and make a plan—”
She couldn’t finish her statement because the light blinked on my phone, telling me I had an incoming text.
It was from Patrick. Elle must have seen my hand tremble when I held the phone screen closer to my face. It was a photo of our suspect list. Nothing else. No cute quip like Let’s do breakfast again or Drinks on the beach? What did I expect? And if I did expect more than this so soon after breaking up with Cole, I was out of my mind.
Elle glanced over my shoulder and I said, “It’s from Patrick. I’ll forward it to you.”
She took out her phone from her vintage Chanel tweed blazer. I knew it was Chanel because of the interlocking gold CC logo on the buttons. I was sure it was vintage because Elle was wearing it. Plus, on the lapel were six colorful rhinestone broches that glittered when the sun hit them. The brooches, along with a ton of vintage clothing and accessories, had been willed to Elle from her Great Aunt Mabel. Aunt Mabel had been an assistant to the famous mid-century movie costume designer Edith Head, who did the clothing for To Catch a Thief, Sabrina, White Christmas, and many others. Elle had been toying with the idea of opening an Edith Head museum, until she realized she wouldn’t be able to wear any of her designs and accessories.
After a few taps on her phone screen, Elle grinned and said, “Boy, you and Patrick have been busy. I’m glad you value my input for a change. It’ll keep me busy, instead of worrying about what my fiancé is up to twenty-four-seven.”
“Well, we’re partners in crime when it comes to our vintage treasures and refurbishing antics. So why not bring you along on this one. But don’t share the suspect list with Jenna. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“You don’t usually involve me in your detecting shenanigans. Why now?”
“Two heads are better than one. And you know Jenna just as well as I do. Plus . . .”
“You want me to send this on to Arthur.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” I added coyly. “Even if he’s having a hard time getting info from the Suffolk County Police Department, maybe he has a few ins with his alma mater, the East Hampton Town Police, or even knows someone from the New York State Police.”
“I will, but I’m up for the challenge. You might be surprised how much Arthur and you have rubbed off on me. Not to mention that this is the fifth time I’ve gotten drawn into a murder investigation because of you.”
“Hey, I seem to remember you had ties with our second and fourth murders.”
“Semantics. Not that I don’t appreciate what you did at Sandringham.”
We discussed the suspect list for a while. Elle was sharper than I thought when she asked how I knew Roland hadn’t offed himself. And there was no surprise in her gaze when I told her about my part in throwing the murder weapon under the steps.
When it was close to noon, I walked Elle to her car, giving her an assignment as my sworn deputy to find out how Vicki was doing at Montauk Manor. We didn’t want her leaving town, but we also didn’t want her blabbing about Jenna and Roland’s fight the night before his murder.
“But I don’t even know her. How will I manage that?”
“Pretend you’re part of the set design crew for Mr. & Mrs. Winslow, which technically you are. Tell her you need her expert advice on something. Explain that I sent you because of her stellar reputation. She’ll believe that, or anything else that pumps her magnificent ego.”
“And what is my covert mission? Wait, let me record you.” She took out her phone and tapped the screen. “Okay. Shoot.”
“Your mission is to find out her home address in Manhattan. Maybe your fiancé can check things out there and see how solvent her business is. If Roland oversaw the financial end of the business, it would be good to see if by killing him it would somehow be to her advantage. Also check into Roland and Veronica’s divorce, maybe there’s a story there. I know from experience Vicki hated Roland, yet she had no problem being one of the designers for the showhouse or staying in their Amagansett beachfront rental.”
“Should I record her without her knowing? I think that would be too nerve-racking.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Plus, it wouldn’t be admissible in court.”
“Maybe you should go into law enforcement.”
“I think I’ll stick to my serene life, decorating small cottages with the stuff we fix up in your carriage house. Now you’ve done it. You made me remember that I’m meeting Ashley. Hope she comes alone.”
“You’ll be fine. I have a good feeling about you and Patrick. It’s funny, now that you’ve shown me that photo with Cole’s chief mate Billie, I think it’s meant to be a godsend. No more hanging on. And if your reclusive author is in a relationship with his publicist, that would make it a rebound affair. After her, you’ll be next in the circuit.”
“Screwy logic, Ms. Warner. Because that would mean I need a rebound relationship from
Cole, and I don’t think that would be happening with anyone but . . .”
“You’re right. I’m going. Leave things to me. I’ll report back after I get more information. I told Jenna I’d have lunch with her at the yacht club. Anything I should pass on?”
“Oh, that’s great ’cause there’s something I want to do after I meet Ashley.”
“Should I ask what? Or leave it?”
I smiled but didn’t answer, and instead said, “If you can, when you’re with Jenna, find out everything there is on her cousin Nate. I can’t believe I thought they were lovers.”
“The architect, right?”
“Yes, Klein and Associates in Amagansett. It would be interesting to find out if he’s related to Jenna’s mother’s side of the family or her father’s. If it’s her father’s side, he could be the one who stuffed those monopoly bills in the polar bear’s mouth. I’m having a hard time figuring out what that little scene in the attic has to do with Roland Cahill’s murder.”
“So, you saw his body before the police came. Did he have anything in his mouth?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Okay, I’ll try to bring up Nate to Jenna, but you have no idea how distraught she is. And drugged.”
“I can imagine. Also, tell her to be strong and don’t let anyone intimidate her, especially Chief Pell. And not to talk to anyone but her attorney, Justin Marguilles.”
“That’s easy enough. But it’s not like you to pawn off things on me. What exactly are you doing after you see Ashley? I bet it’s more dangerous than my two assignments.”
“Never you mind. I’ll be fine. Now, be on your way, my little sleuth. Report back at twenty-hundred.”
I watched her try to figure out what time I was talking about.
“Eight tonight.”
She gave me a salute, opened the pickup’s door and got inside. After manually rolling down the window, she said, “Thanks, friend, this will keep my mind off Arthur. And I’m only sharing my findings with you. Serves him right.”
A Design to Die For Page 14