by Iris Kincaid
“Do you like the beach sports—boating, sailing, fishing?”
“Nah, no time for all that. I spend a lot of time working, you know.”
“So, what do you like to do in your free time?” Lorna said, just trying to keep the conversation going.
“I like to watch the games. You like to watch the games?”
“Every now and again. My coworkers do throw a big Super Bowl party every year, so I go to that. Lots of good food, but most of us are clueless about what’s happening in the game. It’s all about the food. And the halftime show.”
“Maybe this year, you can watch with me. You a good cook? My friends appreciate a nice big spread.”
Did he just invite her to come and cook a big party spread for his friends? Moving right along . . . “So, I’m not at all asking for insider information. But got any stock advice for me?”
“I know a place where you can get a lot of tips. It’s a monthly meeting of amateur traders. We share all kinds of tips. That reminds me—the funniest thing you ever want to see. This young chubby girl started showing up, maybe fifteen, sixteen. Real quiet. I thought she had come with her dad, but she came alone.
“And get this—she’s been investing for three years. Got five hundred dollars when her grandpa died, and she’s turned it into seven thousand dollars. I mean, it’s a complete fluke and she probably doesn’t have the slightest idea what she’s doing. None of us are getting those kinds of returns.”
“What stocks did she pick?”
“I can’t ask a kid that! Like she knows better than me.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know. Who cares? She’s just this fat kid who got lucky.”
Lorna couldn’t end the evening quickly enough.
*****
Finn Cochran had asked Lorna to meet him at the police station at ten AM. Feeling a little edgy, Lorna was in the waiting room twenty minutes early. There were three other people in the room who also appeared to be waiting for Officer Cochran. There was a young male twenty-something hipster in requisite skinny jeans, arms proudly adorned with elaborate tattoos, a high-volume beard, and glued to his cellphone. A young woman of thirty-two, dressed in frumpy, old-fashioned clothing. She’s probably got a nice figure under there somewhere, Lorna mused, but she is dressed worse than most of my geek friends at the library. And a middle-aged man with a briefcase full of formal looking documents. Definitely a lawyer.
He and the young woman were speaking quietly.
“A multiple-estate transfer doesn’t require a lot of additional work. I can draw up all the paperwork by next week.”
Finn Cochran strolled into the waiting room at 9:50 AM and was pleased to see that everyone was there bright and early.
“That’s what I like to see. Anybody want to grab a coffee? It’s actually good stuff. We get our beans from Café Au Lait.”
“Oh. In that case . . .” The young hipster leapt to his feet and headed for the coffee pot. The lawyer sheepishly joined him.
“All right now. Everybody follow me, and we’ll see what we can come up with,” Finn ordered cheerfully.
After they were all comfortably settled in the small conference room, the introductions were quickly dispatched. The young man’s name was Shane Whittle.
“She called me her assistant. I was really just her techie. I opened up all of her social media accounts—she was kind of clueless about all that. Helped to set up her online banking, figured out all the Word and Doc programs and formatting. I worked for her for about two years. And I don’t know if this is a good time to bring this up, but she owed me over two weeks’ back pay. Plus, she promised me holiday pay, and I think I’m entitled to half that amount.”
Stella’s lawyer responded, “I’m going to have to look at your contract with her and a statement of payroll before I can make a recommendation to Stella’s executor and beneficiary. That would be Ms. Daisy Kirby here.”
The young woman shrugged incredulously. “Yes, which is insane. Because I barely knew her, and I don’t know why she gave me her estate. We only saw each other a few times in life, at big family gatherings, weddings, and funerals. And our encounters were always weird and unpleasant. So this doesn’t make any sense.”
“I do see that you are the sole beneficiary, Ms. Kirby. Stella had some serious dough, though. That’s got to be nice,” Finn observed.
It’s also a pretty obvious motive for murder. Stella’s lawyer, who was clearly now Daisy’s lawyer, wanted to shut down that line of thinking.
“Officer Cochran, I see what you’re thinking. Rest assured that until I contacted Ms. Daisy Kirby here yesterday, she was completely unaware of the bequest. Which I would be happy to swear to under oath. Stella Kirby took pleasure in the thought of surprising relatives with her final will and testament. She knew that a lot of them would be furious and was delighted at the prospect. I confess, not the nicest person to work for.”
“Tell me about it.” Shane snorted. “So, can I get paid?”
The lawyer shook his head. “As I said—”
“What did she owe you?” Daisy interrupted.
“Three hundred dollars for the back pay. And five hundred dollars for the half-year bonus.”
Daisy briskly pulled out her checkbook and started scribbling away. “No reason her debts shouldn’t be settled honorably.”
“Very nice.” Finn nodded approvingly. “Now, Shane, this computer is locked out. Can you get us in? Supply passwords and all that. Great.”
While Shane tackled the computer, the lawyer turned to Daisy.
“In the meantime, I hope you’ll consider the suggestion I made yesterday—a small family burial this week, and a delay of the public memorial for three or four weeks to accommodate her regional fan base. There’s quite a large number of people who want to pay their respects. Now, here are the house keys and . . . I will be in touch very soon. Officer Cochran, anything else?”
“No, you’re good. Thanks for coming in.”
Finn turned to Daisy. “Keys, huh? That’s going to come in handy. You going to be able to give us a tour of Stella’s house?”
Daisy made a face. “It’s almost like something out of Hoarders. You want to look around, be my guest. I’ve got to get inside to find photos for the memorial service. So just tell me when.”
Shane was working at the computer. He pulled a flash drive out of it and popped it into his pocket. “Whenever you head over to Stella’s, could you give me a call? I left a thermos in there. It was a pretty sweet thermos. Okay. Here you go. Here’s the password to get in, and here’s a master list of all her accounts and passwords—social media, financial, everything.”
“Perfect. Say . . . what did you just pocket?”
“Oh, that’s just the flash drive. It’s got a copy of everything that’s on Stella’s desktop. But we never wanted to have her master list of passwords there—for security. But I just put it there now so you could have it. Why? You want the flash drive? I don’t see why I would need it. My work with Stella is done. Here you go.” He pulled it back out of his pocket and put it on the table in front of Finn.
Finn examined the device. “I appreciate it. Thanks for coming in.”
Daisy was looking increasingly agitated. “Everything okay, Ms. Kirby?” Finn asked.
“There’s just so much to do. What do I know about being an executor? Funeral now. Memorial later. Dozens of people to call. Death certificates. Newspaper. I don’t know what to do first.”
An elderly colleague of Lorna’s had died about six months earlier, and she had lent a hand in a lot of the arrangements. She felt sorry for Daisy, who was clearly overwhelmed.
“Flowers. I can show you a place that has great displays. And I can walk you over to the funeral home. You show them the receipt for the flower place and the two of them will coordinate.”
Daisy let out a big grateful exhale. “That would be extremely helpful.”
“No problem,” Finn said. “You go take c
are of that, and then you and I meet with Elliot Guest at two o’clock for coffee. He’s not really a come down to the station kind of guy. And plenty of time before five PM to get over to the library to meet with Ms. Book Club.”
“That sounds fine. See you at two o’clock,” Lorna said.
As Finn watched the two young women walk away, he remembered that Lorna had barely said a word in the meeting. But she also looked to be one of the keenest observers he had ever seen. Good thing, because most cases are hard to crack without a good civilian ally. And this case had him good and stumped.
CHAPTER FIVE
As they walked along the Main Street, Lorna could see that despite not really having a relationship with her great aunt, Daisy was nonetheless in the dumps. Perhaps she was feeling the added burden of guilt for not grieving sufficiently over the loss of a dead relative and benefiting financially from the death of a woman she didn’t even like. Her general air of melancholy reminded Lorna of her own unhappiness before the operation.
“Did you know her?” Daisy asked.
“No. Only secondhand stories. It was I who found her.”
“How awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s upsetting, isn’t it? I had to view the body last night. Her eyes were still open. And her tongue . . . so swollen because of the poison. Even though we weren’t close . . .”
“It’s still very upsetting,” Lorna sympathized. “Did she make any arrangements about a burial plot?”
“I’m pretty sure she bought a plot alongside her sister, Mina. At least that’s taken care of.”
Lorna didn't want to dampen Daisy’s spirits any further, but she might not get another opportunity to ask. “I know you didn’t know Stella well, and forgive me for asking, but did you know anyone who might have hated her so much that they would have done this?”
“Well, maybe no one whom she knew directly. But as you probably heard, not everyone enjoyed that book of hers. It was wrong of her to include real people’s lives. She may have offended the wrong person.”
“I did read her book. You may be right. Here’s the flower shop.”
In the shop, Lorna and Daisy waited patiently at the counter while the owner finished up a phone call. Lorna absentmindedly brushed away a shriveled violet on the counter and then was horrified to watch it spring into full youthful blossom.
Thankfully, Daisy was preoccupied with looking at the flower displays on the wall. Lorna quickly swiped the violet to the floor.
“This is kind of beautiful, don’t you think?”
She was standing in front of a striking navy, turquoise, and purple garland. Lorna patted her on the arm.
“It’s wonderful. It really is.”
Daisy sighed with relief. Lorna’s mind returned to Stella’s controversially cruel tell-all. It certainly had angered a lot of people. She was going to have to bring it to Officer Cochran’s attention. Not something she was looking forward to, considering that all Oyster Cove residents it referenced would become suspects. Including her new friend, Lexi Stokes.
*****
The Grand Hotel was truly worthy of the name. It was the most deluxe facility of its kind on the boardwalk. Its restaurant, bar, and tea room had such highly praised reputations, it was quite possible that it made more money on those assets that it did on its actual rooms. Elliot Guest enjoyed the highbrow atmosphere. He had insisted on meeting Finn Cochran and Lorna in the tea room.
Elliot looked like the very picture of a college instructor—a navy jacket in a light summer cloth and a buttoned-up shirt and tie. He had just finished teaching one of his summer courses that morning. Still, he bristled when Finn referred to him as a college teacher.
“I am an author. Being an instructor is not my profession. Well, it’s almost an act of philanthropy. It’s my duty to share my experience and wisdom to cultivate the next generation of authors.”
Lorna and Finn exchanged glances. This man could not be more full of himself.
“Of course, the teaching money’s gotta come in handy. You got a twenty-thousand-dollar advance on your last book. Which is sweet. But not enough to live on, is it? Even though you’ve gotten so many awards. People’s priorities are kind of screwed up, right? That Stella Kirby wrote pretty lowbrow stuff, and she got a half-million advance for her next book.”
Elliot shuddered. “It was tabloid trash, for heaven’s sakes. Did you read it?”
Finn shook his head. “Not really my kind of thing.”
“Nor mine,” Lorna said. “But I did read it. All the librarians did. We really had to as a courtesy to our local authors. But it wasn’t in the same league with your books, Mr. Guest. Not even close.”
Elliot’s ego was soothed, but only momentarily. “Half a million dollars. You see the sheer injustice of it—the literary world rewards her nonsense and parcels out stingy pennies to serious literature.”
“Did you know Stella Kirby well?”
“As well as anyone would wish to know her. Which is to say, one didn’t have to be acquainted with her for very long to know her company should be avoided at all costs. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but there it is. One of the most unpleasant women I ever hope to encounter.”
“Maybe she liked you a lot better than you liked her. Maybe she was a big fan of your books. Fair Weather Friend was the last thing that she read before she died.”
“Oh, well that’s rather touching, I suppose. To know that she ended life on a slightly more exalted level of artistic consumption.”
“One order of exalted artistic consumption to go, hold the poison,” Finn said. “Can you think of any reason the killer would choose to put poison on the pages of your book to kill Stella Kirby? Why your book?”
“It sounds like an unremarkable coincidence. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have many essays to look over, and this is not a particularly talented group of students. It’s going to be a trying evening.”
“Sure thing. We’ll keep in touch,” Finn promised.
“I’m sure I’ll see you over at the library,” Lorna added.
“Oh, do you go to the library often?” Elliot asked.
Lorna finally realized that Elliot Guest didn’t recognize her, even though they had spoken on a number of occasions when he was still with the book club. He was one of those people who diverted his gaze from her as quickly as possible. So now, she was an entirely new person to him.
After he departed, Finn and Lorna couldn’t help breaking into a little chuckle.
“Now that’s a piece of work. How many football stadiums do you reckon it would take to hold that ego?” Finn remarked.
“He actually is a really great author. Maybe that’s just the way they all are. Although, I really hope not.”
“He did not appreciate Stella getting all the big bucks, that’s for sure. She got to write full-time and he’s busy reading essays on How I Spent My Summer.”
“They’re college students. They are not writing essays on How I Spent My Summer. But yeah, he was very envious of Stella. And resentful. The librarians talked about it all the time. That’s not enough motive, is it? No one would kill someone just because the other person made more money, would they?”
“Well, I wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t. But there’s no telling about that nut job. Perhaps it’s what the exalted crowd calls reasonable grounds for murder.”
Elliot Guest was probably several notches easier to like than Stella Kirby. But that still didn’t make him easy to like.
On their way out to the front entrance, Finn ran into a familiar face, a cute dark-haired woman, about thirty years old. She smiled at the sight of him and then frowned at the sight of Lorna.
“Finn, what on earth are you doing here?” she said, never taking her eyes off Lorna.
“Bette. What’s up? I forgot this is where you worked. We were just . . . having tea . . . in the tea room. This is Lorna. She’s helping me work on a case.”
“Uh-huh. Lorna. Nice to meet you . . . Lorna. Yeah, the tea room is am
azing. You should bring Margo down here sometime. I think she’d really enjoy it. Well, I guess I need to get to work. See you soon, then.”
Bette stormed into the hotel, and Finn looked as if he was developing a big headache.
“That’s my girlfriend’s sister. And here I am, walking out of a hotel with a gorgeous woman. Not good. Not good. Not good.”
“You think she got the wrong idea? You think she’ll say something to your girlfriend?”
“I think there’s 100% chance that she will say something to my girlfriend, yes. Crap, crap, crap.”
“You know there’s only one way to fix this, don’t you? You’re going to have to introduce me to your girlfriend.”
“That’s pretty twisted. But you may be right. Geez. Could we please solve this murder first?”
“Tell me about her. What’s she like?”
“Margo? She’s like, the best thing that ever happened to me. Like, I don’t even have to wonder whether I’m going to have a happy life. I already know. She’s . . . hey, what’s with the questions?”
“I just love to see a real love story. To know that it’s possible. To know that it might actually happen.” To me.
“Hmmph. You know, the first time I met Margo, I annoyed her big time. Hard to believe. But I knew right from the start. It was late at night on the beach, and I told her to go home and be safe. And she told me to mind my own beeswax.”
Lorna listened to the story delightedly. Finn was surprised to enjoy talking about his romance so much. Of course, he had to leave out some of the more intimate details. Not to mention avoiding any references to the fact that his girlfriend was a witch.
*****
Lorna waved a quick greeting to her colleagues as she, Finn, and Celeste Piper, the book club leader, went into one of the private study rooms. Celeste was youthfully middle-aged and an energetic, impassioned connoisseur of the arts. She had founded the book club six years ago and it had become her raison d’être.
“Stella was in the club for about two years. I think she joined about the time her book came out. I remember that we put it our reading list just as soon as she joined. And of course, every time I came to the library, she was working there in the middle, on the same table, every day. This is just so shocking. Such sad, sad news for everyone in the book club. Do you know who might have done this?”