Dead to Begin With (A Country Gift Shop Cozy Mystery series, Book 1)

by Vivian Conroy

  “Could be,” Michael agreed. “The medical examiner said that the blow could have been struck by a woman. Especially if Mortimer was squatting. But Lilian is taller than Gwenda. She could even have done it while facing him. And we can’t ask Deke where Lilian was. As he was in bed, groggy from his headache and the painkiller, he won’t know for sure. Maybe Deke even avoided the confrontation with Cash because he is afraid Lilian did it and he doesn’t want to give evidence that could suggest she did?”

  “Right. If they are not involved,” Diane said, “why are they acting so strangely? I would arrest them now just based on their jumpiness.”

  Michael didn’t respond but stood staring down. “It’s much too late to find anything on the car Deke borrowed on the night of the disappearance. We can’t prove anything. Not even that Celine did get killed. Officially she is still a missing person.”

  Diane stamped her foot. “I could just… Why are we always one step behind?”

  “Don’t lose heart.” Michael touched her arm. “We still have Gwenda as our trump card. She knows something about what Mortimer wanted with his scam, meaning the blackmail. I’ll do a big item on the Gazette’s front page asking for tips about Gwenda Gill’s whereabouts. Suggesting she is needed to uh…determine something about Mortimer’s estate? After all, she is the beneficiary for the life insurance. If she thinks there’s money involved, she might come back in a hurry.”

  He grinned. “Just like baiting a trap…”

  Vicky wasn’t so sure. “If we’re asking her to come back to town, we’d better make sure we meet with her first thing when she shows. Or the killer might get to her before we do, leaving us with nothing.”

  Michael’s expression became grim. “I’m aware of the risks. But right now I don’t see what else we can do.”

  Vicky swallowed hard. He was probably right. Still she had an unnerving feeling that the killer wouldn’t feel safe until he or she was sure that every possible danger was eliminated. They had to be extremely careful with every move they made.

  Back in town Vicky said good-bye to Michael and Diane. Diane said she was going back to her cottage to start on the gauze bags with potpourri right away. “I need something practical to do, with a clear result.”

  In the store Vicky found Marge, who had signed for the china order. Ms. Tennings had also dropped by to see what came from the big box, and to report on her investigation of Bill alias Bob.

  The retired nanny related with relish how she had ordered groceries at the Joneses, but Mrs. Jones had told her Bob could not stop by until the next day. His schedule was overfull. “She actually complained he is taking too much time delivering because the customers take advantage of his kindness.” Ms. Tennings grimaced. “I almost felt bad having thought up my little scheme with my blinking lamp.”

  “She confirmed his name is Bob?” Marge said with a frown. “For him to be the same cousin we remember, his name should be Bill.”

  Ms. Tennings nodded. “To get her talking, I asked Mrs. Jones if this young man was by any chance the son of her sister, and she told me she has three sisters and three brothers, but Bob is related to neither one of them. He seems to be a cousin in the loose way the term is applied, like a relative in maybe the third or fourth degree. She didn’t mention though if he had lived here before and before I could ask, she had customers in the store and had to hang up. But…”

  Ms. Tennings gave Vicky an encouraging smile. “Then I remembered that he could be the nice young man my friend Agatha has been raving about. He drove her out to her book club this week. I think that was on the night Mortimer Gill died. If it was, we can be sure Bob Jones was on his way with Agatha and can’t have killed him, regardless of whether he lived here before.”

  Vicky pointed at her. “Can you determine that for sure?”

  Ms. Tennings checked her watch. “Agatha should be at the community center around this time. Her hobby is flower decoration and she always cuts fresh flowers from her garden and turns them into a couple of bouquets for the center. Mayor’s room, volunteers’ quarters and reception desk. If we’re lucky, we can meet her there right now.”

  “Good. I want to make sure what this guy is about before he starts work on Diane’s porch tonight. His offer came out of the blue, really. It makes me uncomfortable. If he had something to do with Celine’s disappearance at the time, he might be after Diane now.”

  Marge offered to wait with the china order until they were back and could unpack it together. She waved them off to the community center.

  The building had double doors in front, but Ms. Tennings led Vicky around back where the volunteers got in.

  She recovered a key from under a black rubber mat and inserted it into the lock.

  The door opened with a squeak. Inside they heard subdued voices.

  Ms. Tennings went ahead and led Vicky into an office-like room where a short, white-haired lady was picking fresh roses from a bunch on the table beside her and putting them into a half-made bouquet of greenery and flowers. An invigorating herbal scent was on the air.

  “Agatha! I’d like you to meet Vicky Simmons, of the soon to open Country Gift Shop.”

  Agatha extended a slender hand with green veins meandering over the back. “So pleased to meet you. I’ve heard so much about your initiative already, all over town.” She smiled. “Some people think it’s insanity; others can’t wait until you open up. Personally I’m in the latter group. I’m always on the lookout for some cute little gifts for my grandchildren. You will carry something for children, right?”

  “Most of the things I ordered so far are for adults. But I could look into some nice original puppets and teddies. And in a catalog I saw those red telephone booths that are piggy banks. I could order a few and see how it goes. I will put one on the counter during my grand opening for people to put their change into. I want to support a charity and I chose Marge’s Get Kids Reading program. But don’t tell her yet—it’s a surprise to thank her for all she has done for the store.”

  Agatha clapped her hands. “Great, we are still some way off from our goal to supply all young families with kids under seven with a story book for bedtime reading. You should see it. Has gorgeous pictures in it. Soft watercolors of cute animals. All the kids who come to the library love it. The books are dog-eared and almost falling apart.”

  She beamed at Vicky. “Thank you. You could have chosen something more uh…British?”

  “No way. I want to support the local community. That’s my home base.”

  “Right you are.” Agatha turned back to her flower arrangement. “What do you think? Too much white?”

  Ms. Tennings said it was fine and added, “That young man who drove you to your book club, Aggie, was his name not Bob Jones?”

  “Yes, he’s helping out his aunt Emma for the summer. Such a nice young man and such a great driver. I felt very safe with him behind the wheel, while I don’t usually like to be driven at all. But with my car in the garage for a complete checkup, I was planning on getting the bus to the book club when he offered to take me. We had pancakes first at the diner, then went to the book club. The other members adored him, said I should bring him more often.” She giggled.

  Sobering, she added, “But I don’t want to impose on his time. Besides, young people should be with young people. And my car is fixed again. When I went to get it, I saw the most beautiful sports car there. All shiny and waxed. Now I’d never dare drive a thing like that because it goes way too fast for me but I do like to look at them. We should have a sports car rally in Glen Cove sometime. Would draw in fabulous cars.”

  “What night was that again?” Ms. Tennings interposed.

  “Oh, two nights ago. When the murder happened. I heard about it on the news after Bob had dropped me off at my home. I offered him a nightcap and we had a nice chat, until the midnight newscast began. Awful really. First the fire at Perkins’ barn, then somebody killed in his own home. I asked Bob whether he had been to see the fire, but he had
n’t. Was out jogging on the beach at the time. He exercises a lot to stay fit. He has to, lugging around all those crates of soda.”

  He could certainly have dealt Mortimer Gill the death blow, Vicky thought.

  “Aggie,” Ms. Tennings said gently, but firmly, “what time did Bob pick you up for the book club?”

  “We had pancakes first at the diner. They have these delicious pancakes, won prizes for it, you know. I can never decide whether I like apple-raisin better or bacon-cheese. We had both and split them up, then exchanged halves. Bob’s idea.”

  Her happy expression made Vicky’s conscience prick a little. The sweet elderly lady had no idea what they were suspecting her champion of. It would be terrible for the senior citizens of Glen Cove if this lovely young man who had won so many hearts turned out to be a cold-blooded criminal.

  “What time did he pick you up?” Ms. Tennings pressed.

  “We met at the diner. I think it was…” Agatha scrunched up her face. “A quarter to seven? Actually I had asked for him to be there at six-thirty, but he was late. Came tearing in.”

  Ms. Tennings and Vicky exchanged a glance. It was still possible that Bob Jones had been to Mortimer Gill’s house to kill him before he had met Agatha at the diner. Her alibiing him was less than watertight.

  “Don’t you think it’s too white?” Agatha asked again, pulling up a rose and rearranging some green. “It’s for the mayor, you know, and I do want him to like it. He is very fussy about his office, always wants it to be perfect.”

  She looked around her and as she was certain nobody was there but the three of them, she continued, “His secretary was just here and she told me the most amazing thing. Of course I took an oath I wouldn’t share it with anyone, but…”

  Ms. Tennings assured her that Vicky and she wouldn’t breathe a word about it to anybody else in town.

  “I suppose it’s all right then,” Agatha said. “You see, it is rather odd. Gwenda Gill has found herself a new home.”

  Her eyes widened. “A real home, you know, not an apartment. A cottage, with kennels in the back for even more dogs than she has right now. She always wanted to have a dog grooming service, so I suppose that’s what she will do now. But I wonder how she got the money to pay for an entire house. Was always complaining Mortimer had left her without a dime. And he was actually paying for the apartment’s rent; that was part of their divorce settlement. Gwenda doesn’t have any money of her own.”

  Ms. Tennings frowned. “She might be betting on getting all that life insurance money, but she can’t have it right now.”

  “Exactly,” Agatha said, significantly wriggling her eyebrows. “How on earth did she make a down payment on the house? Real estate agents are very particular about that. No down payment, no key. But it seems she moved in already. That’s why she left town two days ago.”

  Vicky stared at her. “That’s why she cleaned out her apartment and took everything with her. She was moving out. But…Gwenda didn’t say a word about it before, even insisted she’d stay here in Glen Cove to hound her ex. She must have known then she was moving. You don’t decide a thing like that overnight. Why would she say one thing and do another?”

  Agatha shrugged. “No idea, but it has to be fishy somehow. A brand new house would be something she’d brag about, to spite Mortimer. That she kept it silent right until the moment she left town must mean there is something wrong with it.”

  Returning abruptly to her flowers, she wondered out loud if she should have cut some more hydrangeas to put into it. “The blue would have counterbalanced all the white.”

  “The white is fine,” Ms. Tennings assured her. “Fresh and modern, just the way the mayor likes it. Come on, Vicky, we’d better go unpack your china order for the store.”

  “I can’t wait for the grand opening,” Agatha called after them. “I’ll bring all of my book club friends.”

  “You do that,” Vicky called back. “Thank you!”

  Outside Ms. Tennings seemed to want to say something, but Vicky shook her head. “We can wonder about Gwenda’s move later. First I want to follow up on something Agatha mentioned in passing. It could be very important. You go ahead to the store; I’ll join you there as soon as I can.”

  She shook her head that she was again postponing opening that lovely big box with her order, the one she had been looking forward to. But right now her mind was fully occupied with the investigation. And the hope that if they kept digging, they’d eventually hit the right lead.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vicky hurried down Main Street for Glen Cove’s only garage. The big vertical rolling door was open, and she could see two cars on the bridges, a mechanic standing under one while turning a wrench. The scent of hot oil and gasoline was thick on the air. The owner, a man in his fifties with greasy hands, came over to her asking if she was here to pick up the red Volvo.

  “No, I wanted to ask a quick question. A friend of mine told me she saw an amazing sports car here two days ago. I’m just looking for a sports car so I might be interested in buying it. If it’s for sale.”

  “I think I know which one you mean,” the man said with a smile, “but that one is not for sale. It was here for maintenance and has been returned to the owner since.”

  “Mrs. Rowland?” Vicky asked, adding at once to overcome any reluctance on his part, “I know her and could ask her if I can take it for a spin sometime. Would love to drive a car like that.”

  “Yes, actually it is Mrs. Rowland’s. We should have returned it the same day, but we had to order a part for it so we kept it till the next morning.” The man leaned over, his eyes gleaming with business interest. “If you do decide to order a car like hers, we could handle the order. I doubt that Mrs. Rowland will lend her car to you. She is very particular about her car. Never lets anybody else drive it, not even her husband. She brings it in here herself and then one of the boys drives her back to her mansion. We could of course offer her a replacement car, but she doesn’t think they are good enough. She is used to a certain level of luxury, if you know what I mean. She has excellent taste. Like you. If you do want to order such a car, we can of course arrange it all for you.”

  “I will let you know,” Vicky said and retreated hastily. She felt a bit guilty about her impromptu lie and hoped Lilian would never hear about it. But at least now she was sure that the gardener had not seen Lilian’s car in the garage at the house, but she had been home nevertheless. Her car had been out for maintenance.

  And Deke’s car had been in front of the house all of the time in full view of the gardener. So neither of them could have gone to Mortimer’s house to kill him.

  At the store Vicky found Marge and Ms. Tennings waiting eagerly to snip the tape off the delivery box and look inside. Vicky held her breath as she pulled the bubble wrap off the first saucer and held it up to let the light from outside play across the delicate décor. It was lovely and it was all hers. Her heart skipped a beat as she put the first cup on the saucer. “What do you think?”

  “Time for photos!” Marge called.

  Together they dragged a leather chair into the street and put a side table beside it to photograph the china on it with the best possible light. Vicky took dozens of shots from all angles, deciding to choose the best ones from computer screen where she could better judge the colors and possible flaws or lack of focus.

  The church tower chimed, and Ms. Tennings glanced at her watch. “Oh, look at the time!” she exclaimed. “If I don’t show up for my weekly bridge drive, my partner will never forgive me. We have been the best duo for weeks now and if we win a few more, we’re going to the county tournament and might win a real trophy. Let’s quickly carry this inside, shall we?”

  As they were at it, Vicky asked if she didn’t need any dinner, but Ms. Tennings explained they had snacks and drinks at the bridge drive. “Even pie if it has been somebody’s birthday. That’s as good as dessert, right?”

  Marge said she also had to dash because she was
babysitting at a friend’s. Before she ran off, she called round the door, “Somebody must have lent Gwenda the money to be able to buy that new house or she could never ever have made that down payment. I wonder who that can have been. Bye! See you tomorrow.” The door banged to a close.

  “Maybe I can…” Vicky checked her watch, decided it was still within business hours and leafed through her notebook for Everett Baker’s business card. She picked up the phone and called his office. The secretary, sounding surprisingly young, told her Mr. Baker was on the phone with a client, but she could hold.

  “No, you might be able to help me out.” Vicky hesitated, looking for the best way to phrase her query so it would look quite innocent. “My upstairs neighbor Ms. Gwenda Gill, would you happen to have a cell phone number for her? I need to ask her an urgent question and it seems she can’t be reached.”

  She held her breath, hoping the secretary would spill to her about Gwenda’s new address. If Gwenda had terminated her lease, she should have left some forwarding address, right, for the wrapping up of the paperwork? Vicky bet that there would still be some odds and ends to be taken care of—also financially. It was odd though that Everett hadn’t mentioned that to the police earlier.

  Then of course when the deputy had called for Gwenda’s key the other day, Everett hadn’t been in personally. Maybe his secretary wasn’t in the know?

  “Gwenda Gill?” The secretary sounded as if the name didn’t ring any bells with her. “Was she a tenant of ours?”

  “Yes, she leased the apartment over the former beauty parlor.”

  “Oh, her.” The secretary brightened up. “She was registered with us under her maiden name, Gwendolyn Burrows. That’s why the name you mentioned meant nothing to me.”

  “Oh. I suppose it is a little confusing. She probably started using her maiden name again after her divorce, but we all only know her by her married name. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Can you then give me the phone number of Gwendolyn Burrows?”