by Leigh Hearon
SUNDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 15
Two text messages greeted Annie when she reached her bedroom. One was from Patricia, telling her Ann Corbett had agreed to groom the horses once more, but Liz deserved a break, so she was springing for the groom’s fee to work on Sammy tonight.
Good for Patricia, Annie thought. That meant only Amy and Tabitha would have to groom their horses again, unless they, too, had decided to pay this extra fee. Annie doubted that Amy would spend the money; she had Lucy to help. Tabitha did not. She wondered if grooming was a job Tabitha preferred to do alone or if she would appreciate an extra hand. Perhaps she’d offer her services tomorrow. Tabitha had had enough abuse heaped on her this week from Gwendolyn and Nicole, culminating in the theft of her rhythm beads. And anyone who trained under Harriett might welcome the company of a colleague who didn’t criticize but merely offered friendly help.
The second message was the one she’d hoped for. Marcus’s text read: “Leaving early tomorrow morning. Should arrive in time for lunch. Don’t have seconds without me. XXOO.”
Annie glanced at her watch. It was now only a few hours from the time he’d leave his home in San Jose. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, a smile on her face.
She awakened at dawn, and again her thoughts turned to Marcus. He’d be hitting the road right now, and she couldn’t wait to see him. She felt wide awake, having slept soundly, although remnants of hazy dreams flittered through her consciousness. And, of course, now she could not remember a single thing about them. But one thought was firmly embedded in her brain. Today, she had to find out if her theory held water. Her concern that the killer might try again had solidified overnight. Of that, Annie was sure.
Her first stop was the kitchen, where she tapped on the window of one swinging door, this time, insistently. Chef Gustav quickly walked over. The usual smile that lit up his face was gone, replaced by a distinctly somber look.
“What is it?” she asked without preamble.
“My waiter, he has truly vanished. His apartment is empty, his voiture is not in his usual space, he gives all the evidence that he has gone to work, but he is nowhere to be found. When the gendarmes arrive, I think I must tell them.”
“Oh, Chef Gustav! I’m so sorry. I hope it’s just a family emergency.”
“Oui. But he would tell me. I know this boy.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I wanted to warn you not to put out any glasses of iced tea or any other beverage until we’ve all returned. Can you do that? I know you like to do everything ahead of time, and this makes more work for you.”
“If it will stop another death, I will do anything you wish, Mademoiselle Annie. I have a bad feeling about the events of today.”
Annie did, too, but she chose not to add her agreement. She did not want to upset the chef any more than he already was about the unexplained disappearance of one of his staff.
“I need to go to the stables now,” she told him. “But I’ll be back later, hopefully in just an hour or two. There’s something I need to do in the house. If you see me around the place, just ignore me.”
“You are an impossible person to ignore, Mademoiselle, but I will do my best to avert my eyes. I hope you find what you are looking for.”
“I hope so, too.”
She turned to leave but heard the chef call her name once more.
“If you cannot make it back, and you need me for any reason, please, call me. Let me give you my number. My telephone is here.” He patted a large pocket on his white chef’s coat. “I keep it with me at all times. Especially now.”
Annie took the number, written on a piece of butcher’s paper, and thanked him again. She entered the dining room a few seconds later, surprised to see how full it was. Every woman was present, some sitting at the table, some standing. Everyone looked on edge, far more so than the previous day. Annie found Patricia and looked at her with questioning eyes. Patricia beckoned for her to come over.
“We’re being escorted to the stables today,” she told Annie. “Hollis has been kind enough to bring out some of his vintage cars for the occasion. We’re waiting for him now.”
“How lovely.” What else could she say? And in truth, she applauded Hollis’s concern and the steps he was taking to ensure that today would be, as Patricia said, tickety-boo.
“Is this really necessary?” Gwendolyn’s voice seemed more annoying than usual.
“If Hollis says it is, I don’t think we should question him,” Melissa told her. “It is his house, after all, and we are his guests. If he wants to escort us in style, then I think we should simply be grateful and enjoy the ride.”
“Oh, honestly, this has nothing to do with our comfort, and you know it,” Nicole replied impatiently. “He’s doing it because he doesn’t want to give the killer any time alone. Which is one of us, in case anyone’s forgotten.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Annie noticed that Gwendolyn’s head was down, as if she was avoiding everyone else in the room. She slowly stirred a cup of coffee with a small silver spoon, over and over again.
Lucy walked over to Annie, a set of papers in her hand.
“Would you like a new day sheet? Brianna brought these over late last night, after we’d all gone to bed.”
Annie smiled and accepted the sheets. “Thanks, Lucy. Has the lineup changed much?”
“It’s a bit smaller than yesterday. But Amy and I are still riding at the same time. Liz is first now. The rider from yesterday couldn’t return.”
Couldn’t or wouldn’t? Annie thought. She glanced down at the first page. The number of contestants riding was definitely smaller than those scheduled yesterday, but still, there were possibly forty riders who would compete. Dressage people were a resilient bunch, she thought. The very public death of the show judge was proving insufficient to keep most of them away.
Hollis appeared at the door.
“Ladies, your chariots await you. Take your pick of a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud, vintage Bentley, and a Packard that’s part Woodie. They’re a lot older than all of you but still purr like kittens on the open road.”
* * *
The landscape looked dramatically different this morning. Perhaps it was the prevalence of all the new security. They seemed to be everywhere—at the main gates, checking the ID of each driver who pulled in, and stationed every fifteen feet or so around the stables and arenas. They were trying to be discreet, Annie thought, but still were a visible force. Perhaps it would be enough to deter the killer from acting again today. She feared not. The heightened security presence might only spur her on and make the game more thrilling.
There was no sign of the media, although from the front of the stables she could see one telltale van camped out on the farm across the road. But the only camera she saw inside the estate gates belonged to the same videographer who’d been on the premises the day before. She wondered what he’d managed to capture on video during those opening seconds when the rider entered the ring, and reminded herself to find out. Although she was pretty sure the police already had a copy of whatever he’d managed to get on film.
As the first rider, Liz seemed far more nervous than she’d been the day before, and Annie intuited her presence probably wouldn’t help right now. She wished Liz luck and watched as she and Patricia walked Sammy over to the warm-up ring. It was eight o’clock, and there was nothing to do but wait. Annie was itching to go back up to the house to do her private sleuthing, but there wasn’t time before her friend would ride. Besides, if she left right now, alone, her departure would be very conspicuous. She knew Hollis’s new set of rules required no one to return to the house unless it was in one of his vehicles, and never alone. And that was precisely what she needed to be this morning—alone and undisturbed.
She’d have to bring Hollis into her plan, and before he returned to the house to fetch Miriam. Driving down, he’d told her his wife had insisted on watching the show this morning, come hell or h
igh water.
“Hollis, I think the way you’ve handled security this morning is just perfect,” she began.
“Thank you, Annie. I’m afraid we can’t be too careful.” He turned to get into the Rolls. She put her hand on his arm, and he turned back.
“I need to get back to the house sometime this morning. There’s something . . . something I have to look at.”
His eyes lost a bit of their brilliant hue.
“You have a theory?”
“I do. But I need to test it when the rest of the guests are out of the house.”
“Miriam should be ready to go in twenty minutes. Will that give you enough time?”
“It should.”
“Then hop in.”
She quickly slid into the passenger side and tried to slink down. She did not want to be seen by any of the other women right now, even Patricia and Liz.
“I could put you in the boot of the car on the way back, if you’d like,” Hollis said as he smoothly drove away from the stables and toward the house. “I did that to a moll in a B movie once.”
“Did she manage to escape?”
“I believe she kicked her way out. I’m not sure I’d like you to do that to this beauty.”
“I agree. Why don’t you let me get back on my own? I’ll be less conspicuous that way.”
“If you go around the cottages, you should end up just behind the judge’s booth.”
“Perfect. Although I think this judge is safe today.”
“I hope so. And, Annie, you will tell me what you find, won’t you?”
“Hollis, you’ll be the first to know.”
* * *
Once inside the house, Annie raced upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Then she groaned. Every door to every guest suite would be locked—isn’t that what they’d all agreed to do? Why hadn’t she bothered to ask Hollis for a master key, assuming he had one? She bounded downstairs, this time, three steps at a time, and headed for the kitchen.
“Back so soon, Mademoiselle Annie? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, but I need a master key to the rooms. Do you have one, by any chance?”
“No, but I do.” It was Hollis’s voice, right behind her. “Good heavens, you do make a lot of noise coming downstairs for such a slender thing, don’t you? Come along, Annie, and let’s let Chef Gustav return to work. I’ll be happy to open any door you want.”
She grinned at him, happy to have a confederate in this undertaking. She’d committed to trespassing on every single woman’s room, if necessary, but the thought of doing so still made her feel a bit guilty. It would be much better to have the master of the house in tow. It made what she was going to do seem legitimate, which it almost was.
“We’ll start on the second floor. In Lucy’s room.”
“Fine. I suggest we take the elevator and preserve the hardwood floor.”
* * *
Lucy’s suite was a mirror image of Annie’s own bedroom right next door. The door opened to a large sitting area, followed by a canopied bed in a small nook and a luxuriant bath at the far end. As in Annie’s room, Lucy’s windows overlooked the path that led to the trainer’s cottages and sports pavilion. But unlike Annie’s, one of its walls was flush with the far end of the kitchen, one floor underneath.
Even if a maid didn’t come in every day, Annie could see that Lucy was a tidy houseguest. Her clothes were organized and hung in the small walk-in closet, and a pile of books about dressage were neatly stacked on the coffee table. Annie walked over to Lucy’s bed. A copy of Dressage 101 by Jane Savoie was on Lucy’s bedside table, and Annie found a well-worn copy of her dressage test inside, apparently acting as a bookmark. The book opened to the section on “riding accurate school figures.”
“What are we looking for?”
Annie walked from the bed over to the west wall, nearly completely covered by an overstuffed sofa.
“The old dumbwaiter.”
“The what?”
“There’s a dumbwaiter in the kitchen. Chef Gustav showed it to me last night.”
Whoops. Annie wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen last night. She could feel her face turning red.
“I was helping the chef with prep work,” she said feebly.
“Aha. I wasn’t aware of that. Please, do go on.” Hollis didn’t look completely displeased, but he didn’t look altogether benign, either.
She took a deep breath. “I figured out the dumbwaiter must have stopped on both floors, but where? I mean, I’m sure there was a lot of work done on the house when you and Miriam purchased it, but the dumbwaiter took up a good three feet of wall space, and it obviously wasn’t removed.”
She started to tug at one end of the sofa. It felt as if it weighed about a thousand pounds.
“Here, let me help.”
Hollis was in surprisingly good shape. They managed to scoot it back eight inches with just a few coordinated pulls. A door that looked very much like the one Annie had seen in the kitchen was near the floor. It had the same china knob, and was of the same dimensions.
“Chef Gustav thought it wasn’t in use anymore, in fact, thought that the pulleys had been removed. But I wanted to make sure he was right.”
“Let’s do so.”
Annie crouched down and was able to work her hand around and find the knob. She pulled the door open. Hollis was on the other end of the couch, in a place where he was better able to see inside.
“Do you see anything?” She suddenly realized this might be all a wild-goose chase over nothing.
“I do. I think you’d better come around to my side, Annie, so you can see for yourself.”
She did, and saw a half dozen gleaming thermoses inside, each with the Darby Farms logo, that looked just like the ones she’d seen last night in the kitchen. Only this time, a mason jar, filled with a milky-white substance, stood front and center.
* * *
“I can’t believe it. I don’t believe it. Lucy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Hollis was staring at her. He looked dumbstruck, as if, for the first time, he wasn’t sure of his lines.
“I know it looks bad for Lucy, but it’s not proof positive. Let me do a bit more snooping, if I might. I’ll join you at the stables when I’m done.” She gave a quick laugh. “After all, I can’t miss seeing Liz ride.”
Hollis glanced at the large Rolex adorning his wrist.
“Good heavens, Miriam will be downstairs waiting for me. All right, Annie, sleuth if you must, but not a word of this to anyone, agreed? Not at the moment.”
“Agreed.”
He tossed her the master key and left, his footsteps clattering on the wood floor as loudly as her own a few minutes ago.
Once his footsteps had faded and she heard the front door close, Annie turned back to the small shelf inside the wall. She looked around for something to wrap around her hand and finally grabbed a washcloth from Lucy’s bathroom. She gingerly picked up the mason jar and set it on the floor. No way was she leaving this behind. Not when she was certain that its contents had already caused two deaths, and possibly were intended for one more.
She managed to wrest the sofa back into position by herself and locked the door. She glanced at her own watch. It was eight thirty on the dot. She didn’t have much time to complete the rest of her task.
She tiptoed up to the third floor and jiggled the knob to the bedroom door of the suite above Lucy’s. To her surprise, the door swung open. How could that be? Hadn’t everyone decided last night that locked doors were now de rigueur? She looked around the suite. This bedroom was far less orderly than the last one she’d entered. Clothes were strewn on the bed, jewelry had been indiscriminately slung over the nearest available chair, and glancing inside the bathroom, she saw barely a spare space left on the counter, cluttered with lotions, perfumes, and other bottles. On the side tables, Annie saw many glasses she recognized as the same ones she’d seen on the dining-room table. Was it okay to take them upstairs? She’d never asked
. Fortunately, the only piece of furniture adorning the same wall as the dumbwaiter in this bedroom was an old-fashioned hutch with long legs. Annie could see the beveled part of the outer door of the dumbwaiter protruding from underneath the hutch’s legs.
She still had to move the cumbersome piece of furniture in order to open it, but this proved far easier to nudge than a Victorian sofa. Once this was done, Annie covered her hand with Lucy’s washcloth and pulled the same china knob to open the door. She saw two pulley ropes hanging in the air, and gave one a slight tug. It immediately responded. Yup, this was a fully functional dumbwaiter, all right. Hollis and Miriam Darby may not have ever used it, but at least one houseguest, and possibly two, had been taking full advantage of its services.
She sat back on her knees and thought. In general, Annie agreed with Hollis. It was hard to see Lucy plotting the death of the judge. It was a lot easier to see Gwendolyn, whose bedroom she was now in, doing such a thing. But if she were responsible for one, perhaps two deaths, could she really be so stupid as to keep her door unlocked, where anyone could find the means by which she transported poison to a glass or thermos? She couldn’t imagine Hilda’s best friend making such a significant mistake. Yet criminals had made stupid mistakes before.
There was at least one more room she had to search, but she’d run out of time. Two minutes later, Annie was out the front door and trotting toward the back path Hollis had suggested she take. She strolled into the stables four minutes later. The mason jar was now safely stowed in the locked suitcase in her room, where no one could get it. It was five minutes to nine and time to watch Liz ride. She waved to her friend, who was seated on Sammy in the same spot as the rider had been yesterday morning. Patricia was beside her, waiting to take her own place outside the dressage court as her reader.
“Remember, have fun!” she yelled, and then walked over to where Melissa, Amy, and Lucy were standing to watch the show. A number of heads turned around, curious to see who would give a dressage rider such unorthodox advice.
She didn’t care.
Chapter Twenty-one