by Maddie Day
Adele and Samuel strolled toward us, each holding a glass of wine.
“Nice service, don’t you think?” Adele asked Roberto. “Do they do this kind of thing where you come from, a purely memorial service?” She spoke clearly and not too fast to help the Italians understand. She didn’t talk too loud and separate each word like Wanda had.
It must have worked, because Maria nodded. “Yes. Usually mass in church, but sometimes like this one, with friends and family.”
Roberto drew out his phone and checked something. He glanced up. “Our flight, it goes tomorrow.”
The ash issue must have cleared out quickly.
“We’ll be sorry to have you go,” Samuel said.
“Very,” I added.
I left the four talking and moseyed over to where Anne Henderson stood alone against the wall, dying to ask her if she’d learned anything from Chase’s wife’s tracker. She probably wouldn’t tell me, but it was worth a try.
“Ms. Jordan,” she acknowledged. She held a bottle of water in lieu of a glass of wine
“Pretty good turnout, isn’t it?” I gestured to the room.
“Mmm,” she said, but her gaze was directed only at Chase.
“So were you able to get any useful information out of his wife’s tracker?” I kept my voice down.
She gave me one of those Oh, please looks. “I’m not at liberty to say. As I expect you know by now. Or should know, anyway.”
I smiled. “I was the one who told you about the tracker. I simply thought . . .” I flipped my hands open.
“We always welcome tips from helpful citizens, Ms. Jordan.” She returned her gaze to Chase, who now approached Phil and the fiddler.
I looked at the men, too, halfway across the room, which wasn’t particularly spacious. Chase shook Phil’s hand and then offered a handshake to Man-Bun. The latter folded his arms instead and stared at Chase.
“I’m not shaking hands with you, Broward,” he said, his voice loud and clear.
The conversation hushed around them. Chase took a step back, but the fiddler stuck to him.
“You think you’re so slick, sliding along like an oily snake,” he went on. “You, a married man, who spent a couple months doing it to a friend of mine and then dropped her without notice. You hurt Pia bad, man, and I’m never going to forget it. I’m going to make sure your wife doesn’t forget it, either.” His voice shook, grief mixing with rage.
Phil took his friend’s elbow and turned him away. Chase stood with his hands in fists at his side. His smooth politician’s mask had slid away, leaving a flared-nostril glower pointed at Man-Bun’s back. As I watched, the mask slid back on. He straightened his tie, shot his cuffs, put on the whisper of a smile. He turned toward the door several yards away where the department chair stood, thanking people on their way out for coming.
The detective made it to Chase’s side in a few brisk steps. “Mr. Broward, I need you to come with me.”
She kept her voice down, but I was close enough to hear. The chairperson, even closer, widened her eyes.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Chase smiled and blinked. “I have a prior engagement.”
“And I’m afraid you have no say in the matter. You can come quietly, or we can do this right here in public.”
“Do what, Detective?” He gave a short laugh. “Arrest me?”
“Exactly.” She pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her jacket pocket. “Chase Broward, you are under arrest for the murder of Pia Bianchi.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Abe lived in one of the Craftsman-style bungalows common in the area, which were built over a hundred years ago. A wide arched pass-through led from the living room to the dining room where we sat, Abe next to me, Roberto and Maria across from us. The windows were open to the mild air of the evening, with the distant drone of a lawnmower competing with the rich liquid tones of a Baltimore oriole.
The idyllic sounds bore a heavy contrast to what I’d witnessed at the reception. Chase had objected and struggled, so Henderson had summoned a uniformed Wanda, who must have been waiting outside during the service and reception. Between the two of them they got Chase handcuffed and walked him out to the accompaniment of several dozen silent stares. The silence hadn’t lasted long, turning to murmured commentary among those who remained, some shocked by what they’d seen, some sounding satisfied.
We’d stopped by my store on our way home so I could change into jeans and grab a scarf in case the temperature dropped later on. When we’d arrived at Abe’s, he had offered a sumptuous summer meal of grilled chicken, potato salad, and coleslaw. We hadn’t spoken of the murders throughout dinner, but I thought he’d want to know what happened.
With only a few bites left on my plate, I began. “So Detective Henderson was at the reception. She arrested Chase for Pia’s murder.”
Roberto nodded, and Maria crossed herself.
Abe set his fork down. “Impressive news. How’d he take it?”
“He was furious, that’s how. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a second count of resisting arrest. It took both Henderson and Wanda to get him handcuffed and out of there.”
Roberto leaned forward. “Robbie, do you think she was correct, the detective? Do you think this man killed Pia?”
I gazed back at him. “I think it’s possible. He wanted to run for senator in our national government. Pia was probably threatening him that she would tell the public of his affair with her.”
“Maybe he should have thought of that before starting the relationship,” Abe muttered, shaking his head.
“I know by now the police have to have actual evidence before they make an arrest,” I said. “I don’t think I told any of you that Adele talked to Gail, Chase’s wife.” I described the tracker the wife had put on Chase’s car, and that I’d told the detective it was there. “So maybe they checked the tracker’s software and found Chase had driven to Beanblossom in the night and then came back to my place.” I shuddered. “I hate that a killer might have been staying upstairs.”
Roberto murmured in Italian to Maria.
Her nostrils flared. “He is bad man, this Chase.”
Abe drummed his fingers on the table. “Detective Henderson didn’t also arrest him for Sue’s murder?”
“No. The only name she said was Pia Bianchi.” So who had killed Sue? Beth had left my B&B in a hurry, looking very much the guilty party. Was it her? Isaac during his time incommunicado? Glen himself? Or maybe Henderson suspected Chase also killed Sue but didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him for a second murder. She could be hoping he’d confess while he was in custody.
The conversation turned to the bluegrass festival as we finished our dinners, and then to Roberto and Maria’s return home tomorrow. Abe rose to clear the plates. Maria started to stand, but Abe waved her down.
“I got this,” he said. “You are my guests.”
“Okay, but you come visit us soon,” Maria demanded in reply.
Abe raised an eyebrow at me. “Sounds like we should make a plan, Robbie.” He smiled, dimple and all.
Travel to Italy with him? What a delightful thought. “You’ll love it there,” I answered.
As he headed into the kitchen with the plates, I heard my phone vibrating in my purse and excused myself to check the text. Uh-oh. Detective Henderson had a search warrant for Chase’s room and needed to get in.
I turned away from my father and Maria and called the detective. “I’m not home at the moment, but I should be able to get there in half an hour. Does that work for you?”
“Thank you, Ms. Jordan. I’ll tell my team. I won’t be with them, but they’ll be in uniform and have appropriate identification.” She rung off.
I stashed my phone, loaded my arms with the serving dishes, and followed Abe into the kitchen. “I’m going to need to run home for a few minutes in half an hour,” I told him. “The detective has a search warrant for Chase’s room.”
“Interesting. Do you th
ink she’ll find anything?”
“I have no idea. But she must think they will.” I found the drawer that held plastic storage containers. “Abe, do you know Ed and Beth, the couple who was staying in my B&B? She’s a clogger and he’s a fiddler.”
He shut off the water in the sink and turned to me, wiping his hands on a red towel. “Ed Molina? And what’s her last name, Fender or something?”
“Ferguson.”
“I met them at a meeting for the festival performers. She’s, um, kind of strange.”
“Strange how?” I asked.
“She seems to hold a grudge for a long time. She was talking about some woman who had wronged her, and she used those exact words. Like she was in a country-western song or something. Have you ever heard anybody actually say, ‘He wronged me?’”
I laughed. “Come to think of it, no. Who was the woman?”
“Somebody who had cheated her of money, I think.”
Pia. “Was Pia at the meeting?”
“Now that you mention it, she wasn’t. Molina’s a good dude,” Abe went on. “Great fiddler. Why did you ask about him and Beth?”
I told him they’d left abruptly two days before they were scheduled to.
“That’s funny.” Abe pulled on his ear, as he often did while he was thinking. “I could have sworn they’re on the program tonight.”
“Maybe they are, but decided to drive home afterward.”
“We could go the festival and catch their number.” He glanced at the little analog clock in the stove, an appliance that looked almost as old as the house. “We have plenty of time to have dessert and still get over there. It’s only seven. Roberto and Maria could come if they want. What do you think?”
“Sounds like fun. Maybe I can get my keys back from Ed. We can swing by the store on the way and let the detective’s team in. Why don’t you ask Roberto and Maria?”
After he left the room, I put away the leftovers and rinsed the serving dishes. Something about Chase being arrested didn’t sit right with me. He had motive and means to kill Pia, certainly, and he’d acted suspiciously a few times, but was he really the murderer? And Sue’s death? Did the detective have somebody else in mind for that? Was it, in fact, a copycat killing?
Chapter Forty
The four of us were finally seated in the audience of folding chairs and picnic cloths in front of the main stage. When we’d stopped by the store, the team had also showed me a search warrant for Beth’s and Ed’s room, so I had unlocked both the Sapphire and the Emerald guest rooms. The team leader didn’t explain why they were searching Beth’s room, but it sure comported with my guests’ speedy and secretive premature departure.
Once we’d arrived at the music park, we’d had to walk forever from the outer reaches of the parking area. It was Friday night, after all, and the last weekend of the festival. We claimed spots in the viewing area, then Abe strode off in search of drinks. Recorded music by Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys played over the loudspeakers as one group moved off the stage and another bustled around setting up. Two stagehands in black T-shirts and jeans adjusted microphones and handed each musician a bottle of water. Somebody must have taken over Sue’s job, because things seemed to be running as smoothly as they had while she was alive and at the helm.
Roberto and Maria looked happy, sitting holding hands. He tapped his foot to the music as she swayed side to side in her chair. I gazed around the crowd. My eyes stopped at what looked like Beth leaning against a tree at the side, arms crossed, looking toward the stage.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I told my father.
“Okay.” He smiled and squeezed my hand.
I made my way through the audience until I reached her. “How’s it going, Beth?” I kept my tone light, smiling.
She turned her head. She didn’t smile back. “Hey there, Robbie.”
“Are you performing tonight?”
She nodded. Her fingers drummed a fast beat on her arm, not in time to the music.
“So I was emptying wastebaskets in all the rooms today. It looked like you guys checked out early. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to leave?”
She shrugged, gazing at the stage. “Ed wanted to.”
“I still have to charge him for the whole time, you know. I had to turn away customers who wanted a room for the weekend.”
“He can afford it.”
“I need your keys back, too. The checkout procedure is posted in all the rooms.”
“I lost my key. You’ll have to ask him for his.” The musicians onstage were tuning up. “I have to go.”
She turned her back on me and wove through the people standing on the periphery until I lost sight of her. I sighed and swore under my breath. I was going to have to revise my procedure for checking out, and make it mandatory. I should also put a fee in place for lost keys.
I caught a glimpse of Wanda strolling along the edges of the audience. She wasn’t in uniform but with her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes surveying the crowd, it looked like she was working, anyway. I headed her way.
“You’re a bluegrass fan, Wanda?” I asked from a foot behind her.
She whirled, her hand going to her waist as if reaching for the gun she normally wore there. “You startled me, Robbie.” Her out-of-uniform outfit tonight was denim capris topped by a snug blue festival T-shirt. It had Bluegrass emblazoned across the top. Under the word was a drawing of a banjo, fiddle, and guitar all leaning against an upright bass. Below the instruments I read, and Everything Else. I’d never seen Wanda’s hair loose. Tonight it fell in strawberry-blond soft waves. In fact her entire appearance was way softer than usual.
I understood. If I were a female officer of the law, I wouldn’t want to look soft on the job, either. But tonight Wanda fit right in.
“Sorry I startled you.” What kind of detective-in-training lets herself be sneaked up on? “Detective Henderson arresting Chase Broward right there at Pia’s memorial reception was kind of a shock.”
Her lip curled. “I suppose. That man is slick. I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw the Pope.”
I snorted at the phrase. “How often do you throw the Pope?”
“You know what I mean. Anyhoo, he couldn’t argue with the facts of that there tracker his wife attached to his vehicle. But you know what he told us?”
I shook my head.
“Said he did drive to a rendevoose with the victim, but that she was already a goner.” She rhymed rendezvous with hen caboose.
“Really?”
“You better believe it. Told us he spied that other guest of yours, the dancer, running away from the scene.”
My eyes went wide. “Beth?”
“Yupperooney. Ms. Elizabeth Ferguson herself.”
“Did you believe him? What if he’s lying?”
“Anne couldn’t do much about it either way.” Wanda’s eyes kept scanning the crowd. “The man lawyered up and posted bail. He might could be here tonight. That’s why I’m in attendance incognito. Keeping an eye out for him.”
As if Wanda in civvies could ever pass as incognito. To music fans from out of town, maybe, but not to anyone who’d ever met her.
“And Beth?” I asked. “Did Henderson arrest her instead?”
“Gotta find her, first. She’s not answering her phone and neither is Mr. Molina. But the evidence isn’t there for an arrest, not yet.”
“She’s here. I talked with her a few minutes ago.”
“Really? Thanks for the intel.”
Wanda was being super forthcoming. What else could I learn from her? “Did Henderson let Isaac Rowling go?”
“Had to. Same problem. Nothing concrete to pin on the man.”
“Too bad.” I thought for a moment. “When Henderson arrested Chase, she only mentioned Pia’s name. So she doesn’t think he also killed Sue?”
“That’s a stumper, all right. So far we got diddly-squat to connect the Berry murder with Mr. Broward. Zip. Nada.” She s
hook her head. “Listen, I got to be continuing my surveillance here. You keep your eyes open, okay, Robbie?”
“Of course. Good luck.”
From the loudspeakers came a man’s voice. “Good evening.” I turned toward the stage, as did Wanda. A man I didn’t recognize stood in front of the band. I took a second look. Ed was in the group of musicians, holding his fiddle. Would Beth be clogging up there on the main stage?
“Many of you heard the second piece of sad news this week,” the man onstage went on, and the crowd quieted. “Our wonderful, super good manager, Ms. Susan Berry, has passed away. We all mourn for her, and for her family. Her daughter, Paula, and her husband, Glen, would like a moment of your time, please.”
Paula and Glen moved into the spotlight. He leaned into the microphone as the man stepped back.
“Thank you, all.” His voice trembled like he was barely keeping it together. “My wife loved this kind of music, and we plan to start a scholarship in Sue’s name for a young underprivileged musician to come here at no charge every year.” He swallowed. “For right now, we—” His voice broke and he bowed his head.
Paula put her arm around him and took over the microphone. She sniffed, but stood tall. “We have to help the authorities find the evil person who ended my mother’s life.” Unlike her father’s, her voice was strong and clear. “Please, if you saw anything, witnessed anything suspicious, anything at all, please come forward and contact the sheriff’s office over in Nashville. We need your help. Thank you.”
Glen nodded mutely and let Paula guide him off the stage. It was brave of her to send out such a plea. I wondered if anyone would step forward. I also wondered if Glen’s grief was as real as Paula’s or was staged to cover guilt.
“Well, slap my head and call me silly.” Wanda rubbed her chin. “Pretty sure them Berrys didn’t clear their call for information with Anne. Wonder if we’ll get any real info or only a bunch of calls from paranoid music fans seeing evil where it ain’t. Anyhoo, I’m on the clock, so I best get moving. See you, Robbie.” She resumed her walkabout.