Ivan looked like he might be losing his patience. “An interesting theory—so, how did the person pull it off, and where is this marked goblet?”
“The question is not where the marked goblet is. It’s in the dining room with the other goblets from dinner. You see, the killer cleverly switched goblets from one set to another. The sets are very similar but not identical. Unfortunately, the goblet that was used to murder Archie has been washed clean, the evidence destroyed. But one question remains… where is the original goblet that was switched out?”
On the couch, Reginald fidgeted but said nothing. No doubt he was thinking about the five goblets in his room.
Hershey huffed a sigh. “So, the killer used a goblet that was slightly different to make sure Archie got the poison. Harold served the wine that night, so he is the main suspect,” he reminded her and made to signal his minions to go ahead and lead the butler out.
But again, Araminta stopped him. “Our maid, Trinity, is very particular about the dinner service, isn’t she, Daisy? Everything must be in order, and each piece in a set must match. She would notice if something was different and remove it. Am I correct?”
Daisy nodded. “Archibald and I commended her many times over the years for her dedication.”
Araminta confirmed with a nod of her own. “Exactly. And the killer knew that. Trinity told me herself that Daisy had mentioned it to him. Which is why he got rid of Trinity with a fake phone call so that Harold could step in for the serving.”
Looking at Harold with compassion, she said, “Poor dear. Neither his sight nor his hearing is very good anymore, but his heart, at least, is still perfect. With Trinity out of the picture, he would have volunteered to take over for her so that the family wasn’t forced to wait for dinner. Thus, the fake phone call.”
Turning back to Hershey, she pointed out, “But since Harold can’t even hear the doorbell when it sounds, even when he is on the same floor as it, the killer knew there was no way he could have heard the telephone ring, which worked perfectly into the killer’s plan.”
“How do you figure that?” Hershey looked disgruntled, but it seemed he was now willing to give Araminta the benefit of the doubt.
“You said yourself that there was no call. The phone never rang. The killer knew that Trinity couldn’t hear the phone ringing all the way on the second floor from the kitchen, especially with all the noise involved in cooking. Water running, pots boiling. So she wouldn’t question not hearing it. The killer also knew that Harold wouldn’t question not hearing it ring because he wouldn’t want to admit he couldn’t hear it.”
Hershey frowned. “Your maid, Trinity, has reiterated the same story several times, with neither deviation nor faltering. She was told she had a phone call. She says your butler is the one who answered the phone. He is the one who told her.”
Araminta shook her head in dismay. “I think you will find that she never said Harold answered it. Yes, he did tell her there was a phone call but only because someone else told him to tell her. You see, it was pivotal to the killer’s plan that Harold summon Trinity because the killer knew Harold would volunteer to serve dinner.”
Hershey’s gaze drifted from Araminta to Harold and back again.
Araminta thrust out the vase she’d been holding and continued, “Harold is not the killer, Hershey. But if you still don’t believe me, here. I think you may find the killer’s prints on this and maybe traces of the poison as well.”
Harold spoke up. “I never said I answered the phone that night. I do admit that if it rang, I wouldn’t have heard it. No, sir, I was told to let Trinity know there was a call for her upstairs, so I did.”
Frowning now, Hershey turned to look at him. “Why didn’t you say this before?”
Eyes wide, he shrugged. “No one asked. I didn’t think it was important.”
“Who told you there was a call for Trinity, Harold?” Araminta asked, although she already knew the answer.
“The same person who poured the wine at dinner that night, for the two hundredth anniversary celebration.” He nodded in the killer’s direction. “It was Mr. Bernard, sir.”
Cursing Harold for pointing him out, Bernard dove for the door, but Sasha and Arun were faster. They danced around his feet, putting him off balance. He fell, and the two policemen with Hershey were on him before he could rise. After a bit of a scuffle, the three men rose, this time with Bernard Moorecliff, Archibald’s long-time business partner and brother, in cuffs between them.
“Sir, you are under arrest for the murder of Archibald Moorecliff.”
Chapter Twenty
“You were brilliant, Araminta, and I thank you for that. And for saving Harold,” Daisy told her the following morning while they walked together in the garden. She sighed. “I’m so glad the whole mess with Archie’s death is finally over.”
And it was over, thanks to Araminta’s keen sleuthing skills. The missing goblet from the set the family had used the night of Archie’s murder had indeed been found in Bernard’s room before he was taken away. The police had taken it for evidence as well as the rose bowl that was used for the poison for testing, but even without it, there was no doubt about who her nephew’s killer was.
Amid much cursing and name calling, Bernard had confessed all—to the murder and years of thievery. He’d wanted his brother out of the way because he’d believed it would gain him full control of Moorecliff Motors—the company from which he also had been embezzling.
Daisy had done some research and discovered he’d been depositing the misappropriated funds into an offshore account for years. He had made a last-ditch effort to cover his tracks the morning Araminta and the family had gone for the reading of the will, but he had gotten away with it for so long that he’d become lazy, thinking no one would ever notice. He hadn’t counted on Daisy being so diligent in her endeavors where the company was concerned, a fact she was sure he now regretted.
“Yes, though I’m sure you’ll still have a few ruffled feathers to soothe now that you alone will be running the company.”
Daisy nodded. “Of course, but it’s to be expected. No one thought Archie would leave it all in my hands, but they didn’t realize he was training me for it. It was what he wanted all along.” The look in her eyes was sincere when she said, “I’ll miss him, Araminta, but now that he’s gone, I promise I will do my best to do right by his family.”
Araminta found her spirit after all the tragedy to be quite commendable. “I think it’s wonderful—and especially what you’ve done for Reggie.”
“He’s a bit put out about it, but I think he’ll be better for the help in the long run. If nothing else, Gamblers Anonymous will keep him away from Tony Romano.” Her expression turned serious yet again when she looked at Araminta. “I was able, with the help of Jed from the pawn shop, to re-procure the pieces he sold off when he was stealing from the family.”
Araminta nodded. “It seems everything has worked out well, hmm? Except for maybe the situation with Stephanie.”
Daisy’s expression closed. “At least there’s one thing she can’t hold against me now that she knows I’m not her father’s killer. I’m hopeful she will stay on at the manor. That’s why I came up with the idea of a memorial garden in honor of her father—to present her with something she feels is important as a way to occupy her here.”
Nodding toward the newly upturned space in front of the solarium, Daisy said, “She’s been out here all morning. She seems comfortable with Yancy and with nature.”
Seeing her grandniece wearing gardening gloves and a wide-brimmed hat while she knelt in the new garden space, busily digging in the dirt, Araminta agreed. “When did you say the memorial service will be held? I’m sure you’ll need help with invitations for the rest of the family.”
“I think late next week will be a good time. I plan on inviting some of them to stay at Moorecliff Manor. I think it would be nice to have family together under one roof.”
Araminta glanced up at
the mansion, envisioning what it might be like to have a gaggle of Moorecliffs under one roof again. She appreciated Daisy’s generosity and desire to connect with family. The idea sounded good on the surface, but Araminta knew that when Moorecliffs got together, there could be a lot of infighting and mayhem—but, she hoped, not another murder.
As if sensing Araminta’s thoughts, Arun and Sasha let out sharp meows. They, too, gazed up at the mansion. Then they strutted away, tails held straight in the air in the pose that usually indicated something undesirable was about to happen.
Araminta frowned as she took Daisy’s arm and turned toward the gardens. Surely the cats were just up to mischief. They were probably heading toward Mary’s garden to dig up the plants.
She put the cats out of her mind and nudged Daisy farther into the garden. A nice walk would do them both good. “I think that sounds lovely. It will be great to have a big family gathering.”
“Yes, I hope that having them all here will help generate some family healing.”
Araminta didn’t comment. Healing was a bit ambitious, but she would let Daisy linger under that delusion for the time being. She would discover the realities of having a house full of Moorecliffs soon enough.
“Can you believe Daisy is considering having that bunch here?” Arun asked as he and Sasha trotted down the path toward the kitchen gardens.
“It can come to no good.” Sasha detoured to sniff at a dragonfly that had perched on an azalea bush.
“Remember the last time Cousin Shirley came to stay? She got into that big fight with Uncle Mortimer.” Arun watched the dragonfly fly off. Sasha would never learn that those things did not like to be sniffed.
“One could hardly blame him.” Sasha glanced over at him as they continued. “She was blackmailing him.”
Arun’s whiskers twitched at the thought of Cousin Shirley. He found her rather objectionable. “She’s not a nice person. And odd too. Did you know I found a big wad of money in her room once? It smelled like regret and bad intentions.”
“I’m not surprised. If you ask me, Moorecliff Manor is better off without all the relatives visiting. It’s so hectic. I might hide in the attic until they all leave.”
“Good idea.” Arun liked the attic, with all the old furniture and boxes to explore. It had plenty of hiding places and was fairly quiet.
“And what about all the room switching in the middle of the night?” Sasha asked. “People lurking about at all hours.”
“Indeed, the humans have strange habits.” The attic was sounding better and better.
“And Shirley’s little forays to visit Yancy.” Sasha wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I hate to tell you, but she wasn’t the only one.” Yancy only seemed like a kindly old gardener, but apparently he was quite the ladies’ man.
Sasha sighed and looked toward the manor. “I’ll miss Master Archie. He was kind.”
“He was, but we still have Araminta.” Arun smiled at the thought of his human.
“Thankfully she got our message at the last minute, and we were able to save Harold and get the real killer arrested.”
“Yes. Luckily. It takes her a while, though. I do wish she’d get more in tune. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is we did it.”
Arun held out his paw, and Sasha tapped it with her own for a paw bump. “We did. Good thing they have us around the manor. I shudder to think what would have happened if the humans didn’t have us to help.”
************************
Want a sneak peek of the next mystery in the Moorecliff Manor series? Keep reading below for chapter 1 of Stabbed in the Solarium!
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Stabbed In The Solarium - Chapter 1
Sometime after midnight:
The solarium was kind of creepy at night. The plants of all shapes and sizes were mere shadows in the dark, lurking in every corner of the large room. The air was heavy with humidity and the scent of moist earth. A cricket had gotten inside, and he chirped mechanically in the corner.
Vines had grown up along the tall arched windows that made up three of the walls. There were so many vines and plants that one could hardly even see outside. Still, a sliver of moonlight had managed to filter in, and Shirley could see the stars through the tops of the ten-foot-tall windows.
It was an odd place to meet. Shirley took a sip of her margarita for liquid courage. Not that she needed courage; she was used to clandestine meetings.
The door creaked open, and Shirley swung around, sloshing the margarita over the rim of her glass. “Ha! So you came!”
The figure stayed in the shadows, giving Shirley pause. Was it the person she had been expecting or someone else? Why didn’t they say something?
She leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out who it was. “Did you bring the money?”
The person didn’t answer. Shirley took another sip of her drink. It didn’t really matter who it was. Any money was good money, and she’d discovered most would pay plenty of it to keep their secrets. And Shirley knew a lot of secrets.
“Why are you lurking in the shadows? No one can see in here. The windows are covered with vines and leaves.” Shirley gestured around the room, sloshing more of her drink. “Just give me the money, and let’s get this over with.”
The person stepped forward, and Shirley could see who it was. “Oh! It’s you. You sent me the note?”
“Yes, it was me.”
“Okay, well get on with it, then.”
The person lifted their arm, and Shirley wondered for a split second if they were going to go on a long tirade. She hoped not—she wasn’t really up for it, and she should be getting to bed. But then she saw the moonlight glinting off the blade of the knife.
Too late, she tried to dodge the blade arcing down toward her chest. The margarita glass slipped out of her hand and smashed to the floor. Shirley quickly followed it. The last thing she heard was the solarium door banging shut as her killer fled out into the woods.
—-> Purchase Stabbed in the Solarium
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Dead In The Dining Room (A Moorecliff Manor Cat Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 8