The Last Dance

by Sonia Parin

  Faith looked down at her plate. “I hope I didn’t say anything to make her uncomfortable.”

  “Do you think we could have a look at the room Marigold used?” Abby asked.

  “Absolutely. Just ask Wadsworth and he’ll show you through.”

  Abby looked over her shoulder and saw the butler hovering nearby. “How long has Wadsworth been with you?”

  Charles chortled. “Since my youth. I poached him from my father and I would trust him with my life.”

  Yes, but… Could others say the same?

  “What’s on your mind?” Charles asked.

  “I’m thinking about overly protective employees safeguarding their employer’s wellbeing to the point of committing murder.” Marigold had come to stay at Willoughby Park, presumably for the night. What if the butler had seen her as a threat? Wadsworth would be set in his ways and quite possibly attached to the idea of Charles being a bachelor. What if Wadsworth wanted to maintain the status quo? If he thought Marigold had been on the lookout for husband number two, he might have taken matters into his own hands.

  Charles looked up. “Well, Wadsworth? What do you have to say to that?”

  Wadsworth stepped forward. “I believe my whereabouts can be fully accounted for.” He grinned. “If Miss Maguire suspects me of any wrongdoing, I’ll be happy to provide proof. Or, if she wishes, she may subject me to a thorough shakedown.”

  Abby looked up at him. “Did you notice anyone acting suspiciously?”

  Wadsworth lifted one eyebrow.

  Anyone other than a certain someone who gate-crashed the event, Abby thought.

  “I can’t say that I did, ma’am. I can assure you, I kept my eye on everyone’s comings and goings. It is a butler’s duty to oversee the running of a household and ensure everything runs smoothly and without a glitch.” He gave a firm nod. “If that is all, I’d like to serve dessert.”

  “Yes, yes. That’s all, Wadsworth. Thank you.” Charles leaned forward. “I trust him implicitly but I think he rather enjoyed that. Thanks, Abby.”

  “I don’t know,” Faith said. “There’s something shifty about him. He came across as far too eager to co-operate. He might be trying to throw us off the scent.”

  Charles grinned. “I’ll let him know you said so.”

  Kelly strode in and handed Faith a folder. “I’ve printed out the guest list. I’ve also included a list of all the catering staff.”

  “Fabulous. Can you tell us how long Marigold spent in her room?” Faith asked.

  “She arrived at five in the afternoon.”

  “Did she ring for anything?” Faith asked.

  “She wanted some mineral water taken up. At five thirty, her personal assistant arrived.”

  “Aha! What’s her name?”

  “Helen Forbes.”

  Faith flipped through the list. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us. An entire town under suspicion.”

  ***

  “I’VE GONE THROUGH THE list twice now and I recognize everyone’s name.” Tapping her pen on the table, Faith added, “Still, I get the feeling I’m missing something obvious.”

  Abby had no idea what Joshua had been thinking when he’d recruited her. Just because she’d stumbled on some information in the past didn’t mean she excelled at digging around for clues.

  “You’ve been very quiet. What’s going on?” Faith asked. “You’re not still annoyed because I dragged you out of bed so early.”

  “No, I’m over that.” Although, she still felt slightly sluggish. “You won’t believe this. I’m still craving those blueberry pancakes and… I promised Joyce I’d give her an update.” Abby pushed back her chair and stretched. “I’m going out for a drive. Hopefully, that will clear my head and I’ll come back with some ideas.”

  “You do that. I’m going to scour through this list again. I feel there’s something blatantly obvious staring me in the face.”

  Doyle looked far too comfortable in his doggy bed to disturb. So, Abby left him to it.

  On her way into town, she replayed the events of the night before and thought Marigold’s personal assistant might be able to give them an insight into how Marigold felt before making her public appearance. She must have shown signs…

  Hearing her cell phone ringing, she pulled over and checked the caller I.D.

  “Hello, Joshua.”

  “You’re not at Willoughby Park. What’s going?”

  Instead of answering, Abby asked, “Have you spoken with Helen Forbes?” Instinctively, she knew Joshua had brushed his hand across his brow trying to place the name. “Marigold’s personal assistant,” Abby added.

  “Thanks for the prompt but I was just wondering how you happened to know the name.”

  “Oh, I have Faith to thank for that. She fired off some questions at lunch time. That’s how we found out Marigold had stayed at Willoughby Park before the ball, by the way, thanks for telling me. Oh, and that reminds me, did you find anything in her room?”

  “Have you been drinking coffee? You’re tripping over your words.”

  “I’m sleep deprived. Sorry.” Abby nibbled on the tip of her thumb. With Faith sleeping next door to her, she might not get any shuteye tonight either.

  “We swept through the entire room and found nothing. I’ve also had officers looking through the Winthrop estate.”

  “I assume you also thought to look through her phone and computer and… social media presence.”

  “Yes, Abby. I had it all on my to-do list. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”

  “Hang on. How do you know I left Willoughby Park?”

  Silence.

  “Have you been checking up on me?”

  Joshua snorted. “As if I’d do that… Why would I do that?”

  “You sound strange. What’s going on?” Abby pressed the phone against her ear, almost as if she expected to pick up on his vibes. “Wait a minute. You’re keeping tabs on me. Why would you do that?” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “You either want to know if I’m following a lead or you want me out of the way. Which one is it?”

  Joshua sighed. “This is a high-profile case, Abby.”

  “And?”

  “And Harriet Winthrop has asked for discretion. She has gone into damage control and wishes to keep the press at bay. I only want you to take extra care. Pretend as if you’re going about your daily business.”

  “But she agreed to an interview with me. Please tell me that’s still on.”

  “Yes, and that is her way of containing the situation and maintaining control over everything.”

  “Did you deliberately organize to have me shunted off to Willoughby Park?”

  “Shunted off? You’re living in the lap of luxury. You have everything you could possibly need and want at your disposal.”

  “There’s a deep, dark hole in your plans, buddy-boy. If you intended to keep me out of the way, you’ve hobbled me right in the thick of it. I’m staying at the scene of the crime. Were you hoping I wouldn’t see the forest for the trees? What’s going on?” Lately, Joshua had come to appreciate her input. In fact, he’d even asked her to assist and look at a crime scene and offer her fresh perspective.

  Joshua laughed. “Are you done being paranoid?”

  “Yes, sorry.” Abby huffed out a breath. “Who needs coffee when I have this puzzle to solve?”

  “You say that now, but I’m sure you’re on your way to Joyce’s for a shot of caffeine.”

  “Don’t try to derail my thinking. It’s not going to work.” Actually, it had. She really wouldn’t mind sinking her teeth into those pancakes Joyce had taunted her with earlier that day.

  “Abby, if you could do this as a personal favor…”

  “Do what? Keep my snoopy nose out of your police business? For your information, I had no intention of becoming involved. Faith dragged me out of bed and then you dragged me back to the pub and then, somehow, you lured me to Willoughby Park...” She sat back and cl
osed her eyes.

  “Have you considered taking a nap?” Joshua suggested.

  “I’ll be fine,” Abby assured him.

  “Okay. Whatever you get up to, please be discreet,” Joshua said. “Harriet Winthrop doesn’t want this tragedy to be sensationalized.”

  “Oh, yes… Of course. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” She didn’t want to be responsible for setting the powers that be upon him. “And if I think of something or come across some worthwhile information… I’ll consider letting you know.”

  Abby looked out the window. She knew how Faith felt. There was something obvious… staring her in the face.

  Someone hadn’t wanted her to attend the ball and that same someone might not want her to look into the case. “When you spoke with Harriet Winthrop…” Abby closed her eyes for a moment.

  Joshua whistled. “Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Oh, yes. Still here.” Abby grumbled.

  “You were going to ask something.”

  “Was Harriet at all helpful?”

  “She allowed us to look around. Then again, she didn’t have much of a choice.”

  “And you didn’t get anything out of Helen Forbes.”

  After a measured silence, Joshua pushed out a breath. “She only said Marigold kept fanning herself.”

  “Too young to be menopausal,” Abby murmured. “What were Helen Forbes’ duties?”

  “The usual personal assistant duties. She also helped Marigold dress, and she did her hair and make-up. Before you ask, yes, we sent the products to the lab. So far, there’s nothing. Anything else, Abby?”

  “I’ll call you if I have any more questions or ideas.”

  “Yeah, you do that and enjoy your stay at Willoughby Park.”

  Smiling, Abby put the car into gear and drove off.

  The refreshing fruit salad she’d had for dessert hadn’t quite hit the spot. Also, while Wadsworth had served a splendid coffee, as good as anything served at an award-winning restaurant, it didn’t compare to Joyce’s.

  Seeing a parking spot right outside Joyce’s Café, she slowed down.

  If Marigold hadn’t ingested the formaldehyde and no trace of it had been found in the products used on her face and hair, then…

  Abby’s eyes widened. She scooped in a breath and, instead of parking the car, she drove off.

  A short drive later, she sat outside Miffi Howsen’s house.

  Ten minutes later, she hadn’t moved.

  Reason told her to call Joshua and pass on the information swimming around her head. She drew up a pros and cons list. She could first gather some basic information for him…

  How would Joshua feel about her theory? Too far-fetched?

  “If Marigold didn’t ingest the formaldehyde and the police didn’t find traces of it in the hair and make-up products… Then, she must have absorbed it through her skin by some other means.”

  Frowning, she reached for her cell phone and did a search on-line. She seemed to remember something about a dress and… poison.

  Chapter Twelve

  ABBY GRABBED THE BOTTLE she’d purchased at the pub and looked toward Miffi Howsen’s front door. “I can’t exactly go in there, guns blazing, accusing her of poisoning Marigold.”

  However, she could work it into the conversation. At least, she could try to get some information to fill in some of the time-line gaps.

  They knew what time Marigold had arrived at Willoughby Park and when she’d made a grand entrance at the ball. But what had happened during the morning or the day before?

  Yes, she’d get some facts, she’d sort out her thoughts and then she’d pass on the information to Joshua.

  “This is nothing but a social call,” Abby said and, looking down at her cell phone screen, she skimmed through the article she’d found. “Nothing but an urban myth,” she murmured and bookmarked the page so she could show Faith and get her opinion on it. Putting her cell phone away, she looked up.

  This could go either way. She’d either found a lead to follow or…

  “I’m about to make an enemy.”

  Miffi answered her door on the second knock.

  It didn’t surprise Abby to see her holding a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other.

  “Out and about gathering information?” Miffi asked.

  “Actually, I came by to thank you again for doing such a wonderful job with my dress.” Abby held up the bottle of Glenfiddich Whiskey she’d purchased.

  “Come on in,” Miffi invited and showed her through to the front parlor. “I saw you from a distance last night. You wore the dress well and you looked fabulous.”

  “Thank you, but that dress would have made anyone look good.”

  “Not really.” Miffi took a sip of her drink. “The average woman tends to slouch.” She tapped her hand under her chin. “And drop her chin.”

  Abby supposed she had the hardships endured under the strict guidance of her third-grade teacher to thank for her posture. The woman had only needed to clap her hands to get everyone sitting up straight.

  “I doubt anyone will ever be able to surpass last night’s event,” Miffi remarked. A second later, she lifted her glass. “Actually, I doubt anyone will want to.”

  “Yes, I have to admit it felt stranger than fiction.” Abby leaned forward. “Did Marigold show any signs of feeling ill?”

  Miffi tipped her head back in thought. “I can’t say that I noticed. Although… when she came in for her dress fitting, she seemed to be preoccupied. Almost distracted.”

  “I take it she came in for a final fitting on Friday.”

  Miffi nodded. “She arrived shortly after you left. She’d already had a final fitting and I actually expected Helen Forbes to come by and collect the dress. Instead, Marigold showed up. At first, I thought she might have issues with the dress. She’s done that before, asking me to make last minute adjustments.”

  “So, you’ve made dresses for her in the past.” Miffi had already alluded to the fact, but Abby wanted to make sure.

  Miffi nodded. “She usually came to me when she needed something new for a special occasion.”

  So, she hadn’t been a first-time customer, Abby mused and realized she would have reached the same conclusion before; however, she’d had no reason to read between the lines. Now, everything Miffi said would be put under the microscope. “How did you meet Marigold?”

  “Word of mouth. I retired and came to live here five years ago. Before settling here, I spent a couple of months in the city and I bumped into several old acquaintances.” Miffi shrugged. “People I’d met when I was just starting out. Someone happened to mention bumping into me and recommended me to Marigold. The world of high fashion is rather small. Everyone knows everyone.”

  Five years. Long enough to become best friends or cultivate grievances.

  “Did she ever show signs of suffering from asthma?”

  Miffi held up her cigarette. “She never complained about my smoking. If she’d had asthma, she would have said something.” Miffi finished her drink and got up. “Would you like one?”

  “No, thank you. I’m driving.”

  “I’ll be back shortly. I need to get some more ice.”

  Left alone in the parlor, Abby got up to look at some photos she hadn’t noticed before. They had been arranged on a small side table. Miffi appeared in all of them. Each picture marked a special occasion. A day at the races. A trip to Paris. A vintage car rally. Dinner in a real Greek taverna overlooking the Aegean Sea…

  As she turned toward her chair, Abby noticed the ashtray next to Miffi’s chair.

  Miffi kept a tidy house so Abby assumed she cleaned out her ashtrays every day. There were about twenty cigarette butts and the day was only half over…

  Miffi returned carrying a glass of water. “I would offer you a coffee, but I’ve heard say you only drink Joyce’s coffee.”

  “Thank you.” Abby took a sip and wondered if she should remark on the… watery ta
ste. “Mmm. Refreshing.” She looked around the room. “I’ve been admiring your photos again.” She pointed to the ones on the small table. “Don’t you miss it all? You’ve been to so many cities and here you are, living in a small town.”

  “It took some getting used to, but I’ve led such a hectic life, I always knew I’d settle down in a quiet part of the world. Although, I have to admit, I’m surprised I ended up here. I always imagined I’d find somewhere in rural France or the Cotswolds.”

  “So, why did you end up here?”

  “I grew up nearby in a small farm. My mother had been a seamstress, so I learned my craft from her. That was a different time when women used to either make their own dresses or have someone make it for them. Anyhow, I wanted a peaceful environment but I also wanted to be near town. I guess a part of me yearned for home.”

  “You’ve done very well for yourself. It makes me think I should find somewhere homier to settle into while I’m here.” Abby looked around her. “Everywhere I look I see a life story. I don’t get that in my little apartment. You have a lovely home, Miffi. It’s so tidy… Do you have a cleaning lady?” it occurred to ask.

  “I do. She comes in every other day. I’ve never been any good at household chores.” She held up a finger. “Except ironing. I find it soothing.”

  Abby wondered if asking for the cleaner’s name would be too obvious. “I guess she’s a local.”

  Miffi nodded. “She’s a young girl doing part-time studies by correspondence.”

  “She’s obviously very good at what she does.”

  “She’s a neat freak. Just the other day she decided to re-organize my drawers in order of usage. You’d think she’d put my cigarettes in the top drawer.” Miffi shrugged. “She might have been trying to send me a message by storing them in a bottom drawer.”

  Abby gave her a small smile. “If she’s ever in need of another job, let me know.”

  “Are you looking to hire? I thought the pub had their own cleaners.”

  “Yes, they do… but I might consider moving out of the pub and into a small house. Do you think she… Sorry, what’s your cleaner’s name?”