The Last Dance

by Sonia Parin

  Chapter Fifteen

  ABBY LEFT THE WINTHROP house without looking back. She hoped she’d never have to return, not even to write a more-curious-than-life piece.

  It seemed odd to think so, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling dark secrets dwelled within that house. “And I wouldn’t be surprised to find the proverbial skeleton hiding in every closet.” She looked down at the passenger seat only to again remember she’d left Doyle behind. “There’s nothing wrong with talking to myself… Out loud.”

  Abby had tried to get more information out of Helen Forbes but the woman had remained tight-lipped.

  When she set a safe distance between herself and the house, she pulled up and took a few moments to breathe easy. She couldn’t help thinking only people with something to hide put up roadblocks…

  Getting her cell phone, she scrolled through the few photographs she’d taken surreptitiously.

  James had said Marigold had enjoyed her spa days. Abby wished she’d asked for a name. She had first visited Miffi Howsen because she’d assumed Miffi had spent a great deal of time with Marigold. Then, she’d hoped to get more out of Helen Forbes. After all, the personal assistant had worked closely with Marigold. She would know what went on behind closed doors.

  Unfortunately, Helen Forbes had been uncooperative, at least with Abby. She’d definitely been cooperating with the family, doing a fine job of maintaining its secrets.

  “Aha!” Abby exclaimed as she studied a photo she’d taken of the bathroom. There were several skin care products sitting next to the basin and they all had the same pretty packaging. Zooming in, she read the name. “Sheer Divinity Spa and Beauty.” It sounded otherworldly. She looked up the address and calculated the time it would take to get there. Faith would be having lunch right about now, she thought…

  Putting the car into gear, she set off to find the spa.

  ***

  “SO SAD. WE’RE ALL still in shock. Marigold Winthrop was one of our most valued clients,” the receptionist said.

  Abby waited for the girl to flip her hair so she could read her name tag. Gigi.

  “When did she last come in, Gigi?” Abby expected the receptionist to tell her client confidentiality prohibited her from divulging the information. However, human nature being what it was, in times of loss, people needed to talk.

  Gigi leaned in and whispered, “The morning she died.”

  “I imagine she came in for the full treatment.” Abby studied the brochure on the counter. Spa parties? Skin workouts? What would they think of next?

  Gigi nodded. “She came in early. I had to rush out and get the brand of chamomile tea she liked. I never imagined that would be the last time I’d see her.”

  “Have the police been here?”

  The poor girl blanched. Surely by now she’d realized she wasn’t supposed to talk about a client.

  Gigi gave a small nod. “I’d hate to say this, but it was almost a relief to hear she’d died of that horrible poisoning.” She lowered her voice. “She’d been complaining of a rash and she thought it had something to do with one of our products. The manager bent over backwards trying to make it right for her.”

  “She must have made a fuss.”

  “No, but the manager thought she would. Mrs. Winthrop was so lovely about it. I heard her say she was under a lot of stress and that probably caused the rash.”

  Abby asked to speak with the masseuse who’d worked on Marigold but the receptionist told her she’d have to make an appointment and they were fully booked for weeks.

  Gigi smiled and held up a small tub of moisturizer. “Would you like to try a facial? Our products would do wonders for you skin.”

  ***

  “YOU’RE JUDGING ME,” Faith said when Abby strode into the conservatory.

  “I didn’t say anything.” Abby tried to keep a straight face as she helped herself to a glass of water. “Although, I had no idea you could play tennis. Cute outfit.”

  “I can’t play. Charles gave me a few lessons. When you left, I’d settled down to scour through all the photos from the ball when Wadsworth came in and said a breath of fresh air would do me a world of good and then he asked how I felt about a game of tennis and when I told him I didn’t have an outfit he told me that wouldn’t be a problem. Before I knew it, I had a tennis racquet in my hand. Oh, and Doyle enjoyed playing fetch.”

  “Breathe, Faith. It’s all right. You should make the best of our stay here.” Abby drew out a chair and sat down to collect her thoughts. “Did you get a photo from Joyce?”

  “Oh…” Faith reached for her cell phone. “I guess I missed it. Here it is.” She studied the image. “Why am I looking at a cake stall?”

  Abby leaned in. “There’s a woman in the picture. That’s Laurie Meadows. Long story short, now we can put a face to the name. We’ve made progress.” Although, not as much as they had in previous cases. Abby hoped Joshua was having better luck. “I guess I missed lunch.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure Wadsworth will be only too happy to put something together for you.” Faith smiled. “That just sort of rolled off the tongue.”

  “You certainly wouldn’t have any trouble getting used to this lifestyle.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve worked all my life. At some point, I expect I’ll find someone and settle down but I’ll still keep working and I’m sure I’ll end up living in a small farm nearby or a cottage in town.”

  “Out of curiosity and assuming you were the type who aspired to something grander, what would you do to land yourself a wealthy husband?”

  Faith leaned back on her chair. “That’s a tough one. Over the last couple of days, I’ve had fun pretending to be someone I’m not but it’s exhausting. If I could have this lifestyle and still be myself…” she looked around and grinned. “I want to say I’d do anything but I’m just an ordinary girl with ordinary dreams. I couldn’t fake being happy. Not even for this lifestyle.”

  “Faith, there’s nothing ordinary about you. Assuming your ordinary dreams include falling in love, I think any man would be lucky to fall in love with you.”

  Faith perked up. “You really think so?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  Shrugging, Faith said, “I have a cousin who came close to getting married. She broke it off when her boyfriend asked if she stood to inherit her parents’ farm. He wanted to know what he could look forward to getting.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Abby said. “Once upon a time, parents were expected to provide dowries.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to think someone special loved me for myself and not for what I brought into the marriage.”

  They both fell silent. Abby emptied her mind and leaned back to enjoy a moment of quiet.

  “So, what did you find out at the Winthrop house?” Faith eventually asked.

  Abby was about to confide in Faith when Wadsworth appeared with Doyle by his side.

  “Wadsworth. Would it be possible for Miss Maguire to get a bite to eat, please?”

  “Straightaway, Miss O’Keefe.” He turned to Abby. “Cook is taking the afternoon off, but I can prepare a vegetable omelet.”

  “Sounds great, Wadsworth. Thank you.” Abby scooped Doyle up and gave him a hug. “I wish I’d taken you with me. You might have sniffed out something, Doyle.”

  “I guess that means you walked away empty-handed.”

  Abby gave a half-hearted shrug. “I have a carefully worded statement, probably drawn up by the family lawyer. I won’t know for sure until I speak with Sebastian, but I suspect Harriet is not in her right mind. Either that, or she put on quite a performance. Her son, James, feels the loss more than he’d be willing to let on. Back in the day when I wrote for a lifestyle magazine, I never had any trouble picking up on the little white lies people tried to get away with. They’d pretend they’d engaged the services of a top of the line decorator when half their furniture had come from wholesale furniture stores. Bottom line, I think the Winthrop family is hidin
g something and it is probably only dirty laundry.”

  “So, you don’t think they were involved in killing Marigold?”

  Abby shook her head. “They’ve circled the wagons for a reason. I think someone in that house is guilty of something.”

  ***

  ABBY SPENT HALF an hour in her room trying to make sense of her encounter with the Winthrop family and nearly fell asleep in the process.

  If one of her relatives died under suspicious circumstances, she would move heaven and earth to discover the culprit. Victims of crime pulled out all the stops to get information, even going on TV to plead for help. Why hide behind a charade of looney tunes? Of course, Harriet might not actually be in full possession of her wits.

  Checking the time, she sat up and stretched only to flop back down on her bed. As she did, she began chuckling. What had possessed her to look under Marigold’s bed?

  She leaned over the side of the bed and peered under it. “No dust bunnies.” The windows were partly opened but she knew someone would come in and close them before she turned in for the night. So, the room had the smell of fresh country air and… something else.

  Abby sniffed and smelled something familiar. Or at least, something she’d smelled only recently.

  “New mattress.”

  ***

  “SEE, I MADE AN effort to dress for dinner.” Abby swirled around. “Do I pass muster?”

  “You changed your jeans.”

  “And my blouse. Remember, I wore the pretty floral one today. I think black is more appropriate for a sit down formal meal with a titled landowner.”

  They strode along the hallway admiring the pastoral paintings and Chinese vases on display.

  “Charles is quite a collector.” Abby stopped to inspect the contents of a cabinet. “I think these are seals.”

  Faith leaned down to look. “Oh, I thought they’d be carved seals, as in the little animals that frolic in the sea.”

  “Nope. Letter seals. In the past, everything required so much attention. Nowadays, we lick an envelope or peel off the protective layer to seal it. I think it would have been more enjoyable to heat the wax and press the seal with the family crescent against it.”

  Faith snorted. “I bet anything regular folk didn’t have family seals.”

  “You’re right. A couple of hundred years ago, regular folk couldn’t even afford to post letters. It would have been dreadfully expensive.”

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stopped to look for Wadsworth. “If he doesn’t show up, we’ll have to hunt down the right sitting room.”

  Faith murmured, “Charles has that many sitting rooms, he can have drinks in a different one every night.”

  Not much fun if he’s doing it by himself, Abby thought.

  “Lost your way?” Charles asked as he turned a corner and spotted them. “We’re over in the velvet room.”

  “He even has names for his rooms.” Faith sighed. “I can’t remember ever doing so much walking. Even when I walk from home to the newspaper. And I haven’t even set foot outside the grounds.”

  When they entered the velvet room, they found Joshua standing by the fireplace, a drink in hand and Sebastian sprawled on a red velvet sofa.

  Seeing them, Sebastian sat up. “The sleuths have arrived.”

  “What will you have to drink?” Charles asked. “Wadsworth excels at cocktails.”

  Abby had never been much of a cocktail drinker. Other than the proverbial Cosmopolitan, she wouldn’t know what to ask for. But she was prepared to try something new.

  “Might I suggest an Autumn Leaves cocktail. The flavors are quite intriguing.” As the butler prepared the drinks, he explained, “It begins with the South American brandy called Pisco and Drambuie, then a hint of Campari and lime is added. It should go nicely as a prelude to the stuffed pork loin cook has prepared for dinner.”

  When they settled down on the couch to sip their cocktails, Joshua cleared his throat. “I caught up with Laurie Meadows.”

  Abby pressed the glass against her lip. She’d forgotten to send him the photo Joyce had given her. If she told him about it now, he might think she’d been withholding information. She frowned at the strange thought. Every time she’d come across something that might be helpful in his investigations, she’d always been quick to pass on the information…

  Had she acquired a competitive streak?

  “She does a shift at the local hospital and the funeral home,” Joshua confirmed.

  Both places stocked formaldehyde in one form or another. So, she would have had easy access…

  “She said she’d never heard of Marigold Winthrop,” Joshua continued. “We had the manager at both the hospital and funeral home check their stock and nothing is missing.”

  “Is she a local?”

  Joshua shook his head. “No. She’s actually from the city. She moved here for the seasonal jobs up in the ski resort and then she stayed on, picking up a few houses to clean for extra cash while she studies by correspondence. She’s renting a room in a barn conversion which is well within her budget. Meaning, she doesn’t pay rent but does the house cleaning and occasional cooking.”

  “So, how did you find her?” Abby asked.

  Joshua took a sip of his drinks. “Does a magician reveal his tricks?”

  Abby gave him a lifted eyebrow look that spoke of serious repercussions if he didn’t reveal his secrets. She had no idea why she thought he would catch on to the meaning. But, he did…

  “I had several officers door knocking and then, I had a lucky break. I looked through the notice board at the store. She’d posted an ad for cleaning jobs.”

  “I guess it’s still early days,” Faith said. “I’m sure you’ll find a lead.”

  They all looked at Abby, but she had nothing new to offer.

  Sebastian asked, “How did your interview go today?”

  Abby wanted to ask if he’d set her up but decided that would be overstepping an imaginary boundary. “It went by the book. Harriet Winthrop called the shots and I toed the line.” Abby shrugged. “More or less. From memory, I tried to accuse her of wanting Marigold dead.”

  Sebastian stared at her, his expression set into stone. After several minutes, he laughed. “I would have given anything to see you sitting in the throne room.”

  “Throne room? You didn’t tell me about that,” Faith complained.

  “Let’s just say I found it all too bizarre. James appears to be drinking himself into a stupor. I didn’t see Harry so I guess he’s still sedated.” Abby finished her drink. “Oh, I saw Marigold’s personal assistant.”

  Wadsworth cleared his throat and rang a small gong.

  Charles clapped his hands. “Just in time. I’m famished.”

  Wadsworth led the way with Charles and Faith following while Abby brought up the rear, flanked by Sebastian and Joshua.

  The dining room faced a patio with a water fountain surrounded by lush green ferns. Abby decided the setting would be more conducive to the round table discussion she suspected they were going to have.

  She’d be happy to sit back and let Joshua fill them in while she enjoyed the sumptuous meal being served. In the past, she had actively assisted with his investigations, setting her mind to researching possible leads and being generally creative. Maybe she’d caught Faith’s bug. Staying at Willoughby Park had stymied her enthusiasm. She’d been happy to dabble and try to prod information out of Miffi Howsen, but she couldn’t say she’d gone out of her way to participate.

  Then again, the victim might as well have hailed from another planet. She certainly didn’t envy Joshua’s job. Of course, he had the law on his side, and that opened doors, but it wouldn’t necessarily loosen tongues.

  Yes, a different world… If Charles Granger hadn’t made himself available by mingling with regular people, she would never have met him. The Winthrop family lived in the area but they maintained a safe, secluded distance using their social standing as an impregnable bar
rier.

  “Mediterranean Roasted Artichokes,” Wadsworth announced as he set the dishes in front of them.

  Charles frowned. “Are we buying artichokes all the way from the Mediterranean?”

  “No, my Lord. We are simply calling them that. Much more appropriate than saying Artichokes from Fred Wilson’s farm down the Road.”

  “I see. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for international trade. Give and take. But I’d prefer to buy my food locally. It used to be that we’d only eat strawberries in summer time. Now they’re available all year round. Call me old-fashioned, but I feel it takes away the anticipation.”

  “Wadsworth. This smells divine,” Faith said.

  Wadsworth turned to thank her and, as he did, Abby noticed he turned his whole body.

  “Are you all right, Wadsworth?” Abby asked. “You look… slightly stiff.”

  “Thank you for asking, Miss Maguire. I’m afraid I had a slight mishap today. I stretched to reach a high shelf and pulled a muscle. I should be fine in a day or two.”

  “You should take care of it, Wadsworth,” Charles grumbled. “We can’t have you walking around lopsided.”

  Abby noticed Faith looking down at her plate and the cutlery at either side. Abby nudged her under the table with her foot and broke off a piece of the artichoke with her fingers.

  Her fine dining experience remained limited to the times she had taken her mom out to dinner for a special birthday and a few dinners organized by employers who could afford the expense. However, Abby had always been a sponge, absorbing information as if by osmosis. So, she knew there were a few items on the menu that didn’t require the use of utensils; asparagus, artichokes… hors d’oeuvres and some others she couldn’t remember.

  “I think we’ve driven Miffi Howsen to drink,” Joshua remarked. “After interviewing Laurie Meadows, I stopped by Miffi’s house to ask her a few more questions and she could barely string a sentence together. Strangely, she had no trouble standing upright.”