by Morgana Best
Thyme and I exchanged glances.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I made a fool of myself at the funeral, creating all those diversions. It’s not fair that you’d ask me to impersonate Camino. Besides, I still think it’s a crazy idea.” I pouted.
“I’d happily go,” Thyme said.
I crossed my arms. “There’s a ‘but’ in there, isn’t there?”
“Yes, sorry, Amelia, there is.” Thyme chuckled. “It really isn’t fair that you have to impersonate Camino, but I’m afraid you’ll have to. Put it this way. One of us has to impersonate Camino and go to that will reading, and the other one has to bake cupcakes.”
I thought it over. “Well, I suppose I don’t have any choice,” I said forlornly. “But just don’t ask me to do anything else. I’ve gone above and beyond.”
Ruprecht smiled. “I know it does sound like a silly idea to impersonate Camino, but she really does need to be present at that will reading. We have to know whether she inherits anything.”
“But surely her own lawyer will tell her later anyway,” I said.
Ruprecht shook his head. “He wouldn’t know what Barbara or anyone else inherited. Not only do we need to know what Barbara inherited, but we also need to know if there is anyone else there who inherits, so we can add them to our suspects list,” he said. “We need to find out the major beneficiary of the will, and the sooner we find out, the better. But now we have one more problem, Amelia. We have to make you look and sound like Camino.”
“I can’t even see how it’s going to be possible,” Thyme said. I shared her opinion, but I was still sulking about having to impersonate Camino the very day after embarrassing myself at a funeral.
“I’ve already thought it through,” Ruprecht said. “We will get one of Camino’s dresses, and Amelia can wear padding under it. She can wear a hat and a veil and say she’s in mourning. She can say she has a terrible cold and has laryngitis. Well, perhaps laryngitis is going too far. Just say you have a very bad cold, Amelia, and clutch a bunch of tissues to your face.”
I clutched my head. “Has the whole world gone mad?” I exclaimed. “Can you guys hear yourself talk?” I normally wouldn’t have spoken to Ruprecht in that way, but the whole idea was absurd. “And is it even legal? I don’t want to get thrown into the watch house too, especially given that it doesn’t have coffee or even snacks between meals.”
“Don’t worry yourself about the intricacies of it, Amelia,” Ruprecht said. “If you are discovered, then Camino can state that she sent you as her appointee.”
But that won’t explain why I was impersonating her, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew a lost cause when I encountered one.
Thyme pulled a face. “Quite honestly, Amelia, I would seriously do it, but there’s a lot of baking to be done today. So it’s either you bake and end up with burned cakes, or you impersonate Camino.”
“Yes, I know; I have no choice in the matter,” I said grumpily.
And so, in less than half an hour, I found myself in Camino’s house with Mint. She held up a black billowing dress. “Here, put on this dress.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “It’s hideous.”
“Well, it’s not as if you’re going on a date,” Mint said with a chuckle. “You need to get into character. Just pretend you’re acting. You have to impersonate Camino.”
I groaned, feeling quite sorry for myself. Mint handed me an oversized bra. “Here, put this on first.”
I put it on over my own bra, and it hung off me like a couple of parachutes after they had landed.
Mint doubled over with laughter and fell on the bed. “That’s hilarious.”
“You’re not helping,” I said.
Mint was obviously doing her best not to laugh again. She handed me a box of tissues. “Here, stick these down Camino’s bra.”
“I think I need something more substantial than tissues,” I said. “And what are we going to do about my waist?”
Mint handed me two pillows. “We can find something to tie these around you. What about a curtain cord or something like that?”
After a few minutes of rummaging around, we managed to find a length of curtain cord which Mint tied around me. “Hey, not too tight,” I said. “I need to be able to breathe. Plus these pillows are filled with feathers! They’re poking into me.”
After adjusting the cord, Mint climbed onto a chair and pulled a box from the top of the closet. “Let’s look through these hats for something with a veil.”
“Surely Camino wouldn’t have a hat with a veil,” I protested, but no sooner had the words left my mouth than Mint produced a weird looking hat with what looked like turkey feathers sticking out the top. A black veil was attached to it. “I think Camino wore this to the Melbourne Cup one year, back in the day,” Mint said. She was barely suppressing her laughter. She stuck it on my head.
“That will look good once I’ve powdered your hair to match Camino’s hair color,” she said gleefully.
I looked at myself in the mirror, and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. “I think I don’t look anything like Camino,” I said. “Anyway, Barbara has stayed with Camino for a few days and knows what she looks like and how she sounds. How on earth am I expected to get away with this?”
“These will help.” Mint handed me a package of support stockings.
“What are these things?” I asked. “They look like murder weapons more than anything else.”
“You just put them on,” Mint said. “Thankfully your feet are the same size as Camino’s.”
“How lucky is that,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
Mint stood back to admire her handiwork. “Not too bad, but you’ll have to remember to disguise your voice. Luckily that veil is large and thick, and don’t forget that they’ll be expecting to see Camino. Never in their wildest dreams would they imagine that it would be you impersonating Camino.”
I threw up my hands in horror. “I don’t think there are enough tissues to stick in the bra, Mint,” I said.
“Wait, I have an idea.” Mint hurried out of the room, while I pulled on the horrible thick support stockings. Mint return to the room with two oranges. “Here, put these in the bra.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not putting those in a bra! They’ll be uncomfortable.”
Mint shook her head. “They will give you more shape than the tissues will.” She handed the oranges to me.
I pushed them into Camino’s bra and packed tissues around them. I had to admit that they gave the bra a better shape than the tissues alone. I tightened the shoulder straps, and the oranges sat nicely. They were a little heavy, but they were probably the least of my worries.
Mint handed me something that looked like a cross between a deflated hot air balloon and a tutu. It was white and covered with rows of large frills. I backed away from her, moving behind the bed, and held my hands up in front of me. “You must be joking! There’s no way I’m going to wear that. What on earth is it? I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like something they wore in Victorian times. You can’t make me wear it,” I squeaked. “I’ve never seen Camino wearing it!”
Mint laughed. I could see she was enjoying herself too much. “Of course you haven’t seen Camino wearing them,” she said. “They’re bloomers.”
“What on earth are bloomers?” I asked her, “and where on earth do you put them?”
“They’re underwear, silly.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Great, because if they’re underwear, then no one will see them and I don’t have to wear them.”
“Oh come on, Amelia, they’ll pad out the dress. The pillow isn’t enough.”
“Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” I said. I figured I might as well resign myself to the situation. After all, I was pretending to be Camino. The weird clothes and the bizarre underwear would not reflect upon me personally.
Mint giggled and patted the old tapestry seat in front of Camino’s d
ressing table. “Sit.”
I dutifully did as I was told. For the next few minutes all I could see was Mint giggling and waving various makeup brushes in front of me. “This is going to look really bad isn’t it?” I said.
“Just try to get into character please, Amelia. There’s a lot riding on this.”
“Easy for you to say,” I said, “and come to think of it, why didn’t you volunteer for this expedition?”
Mint smirked again. “I tend to get fits of the giggles when I’m nervous,” she said. “Grandfather wouldn’t let me go in case I gave the game away by giggling.”
I knew this wasn’t going to end well. When Mint had finished, I said, “Can I look in the mirror now?” I was concerned when I saw a look of fear flash across Mint’s face.
“Don’t forget that you’ll be wearing a veil,” she said hurriedly, “and it’s a thick veil.”
After those words, I hurried to look in the mirror. I stared at the reflection in front of me. I didn’t look anything like myself. I was encouraged by that. Perhaps I had half a chance of pulling this off.
Chapter 20
I wasn’t so confident when Mr. Entwistle, the lawyer greeted me. He was elderly and stooped, and I hoped his thick-rimmed glasses were an old prescription. I didn’t know how well he knew Camino, if at all, but the whole situation was leaving me nervous indeed. Thankfully, he didn’t give my face a second look. His eyes did go straight to my hat feathers, but surely that was to be expected. Barbara was already in the lawyer’s office, and no one else but Barbara was there.
I took the only empty seat, next to Barbara, and forced a cough. “Terrible sore throat,” I squeaked. “It was so cold in that watch house.” Barbara shot me a look. I thought perhaps I shouldn’t have alluded to the fact that I, or rather Camino, had just been arrested for murder. I remembered my father’s old saying, “Even a fool appears wise if he’s silent.” I thought it prudent to take his advice. I spluttered the word, “Laryngitis,” and then shut my lips firmly together.
Now if only I could keep my head down and not say anything, and then leave the second it was over, I might be okay. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief. I was glad that Barbara was not focusing on me and that the lawyer was oblivious to everything, having his nose firmly stuck in a folder. I sincerely hoped that Barbara would inherit everything of value, and that Camino wouldn’t inherit more than a pair of cotton socks, because then the police would surely not suspect her any longer.
“And so,” Mr. Entwistle said, “without any further ado, this is the last Will and Testament of Sue Valerie Beckett.” He read out several pages, or what seemed like several pages, all in legalese and in a slow, monotone voice. It was all I could do to stay awake. Finally, he got to the interesting bit. “Barbara Bowen is to inherit the remainder of the estate after Camino Abre’s portion.”
Please let Camino’s portion be tiny, I thought.
He droned on. “And so this is what constitutes Miss Beckett’s estate minus the bequest to Mrs. Abre.” He looked at Barbara over his thick spectacles.
I sat through a good half hour of him droning on and on about the house, the amount of money in Sue’s bank accounts—I certainly raised my eyes at that one—and the contents of her house.
As he continued, I grew more and more relieved that there was surely nothing left for Camino to inherit. It looked like the lack of a motive would lead to her soon being in the clear with the police. On the other hand, it was looking more and more like Barbara had a good motive. And I had no idea that one person could own so many things. It made me just want to go home and clean out my closet. The lawyer listed clothes, hats, gloves, shoes, wheelbarrows, shovels. Who knew so many items would be listed in a will? Sue must’ve been a very methodical person. I wondered if she was an accountant. I also needed a drink of water. I didn’t want to ask for one, because I wanted to maintain my cover. The less I spoke, the better off I would be.
“And now to Mrs. Abre’s inheritance,” the lawyer said. He shot me a rare glance.
Please don’t let it be much; please don’t let it be much, I silently chanted.
The lawyer looked back down at his folder and tapped it with his pen. He spoke in a solemn tone. “This was Mrs. Beckett’s most prized possession,” he said.
My heart sank. What could it be? A Ferrari? An Audi? A BMW?
“In fact, I have it right here,” he said, screwing up his face. “Mrs. Beckett’s instructions were that you were to take it at once, Mrs. Abre.”
My spirits lifted slightly. It wasn’t an expensive car. Although what if it was a valuable antique? Perhaps a priceless painting?
Mr. Entwistle leaned under his desk and reached for the item. I held my breath. I hoped with all my heart that it was something cheap and only had sentimental value.
The lawyer placed a cage on the table with a flourish. I screamed and jumped to my feet. In the cage was the largest rat I had ever seen. Its nose twitched. It opened its mouth, showing what looked to me like a large pair of fangs. Its eyes were beady and glowing. Well, at least that’s how it looked through the thick veil.
My scream must have startled the lawyer, for he jerked forward, and as he did so, the cage bounced on top of a red leather-bound book, which had the words ‘The Rule of Law’ embossed in gold. The cage door bounced open, and the rat leaped at me.
I screamed again and jumped, and as I did so, I fell backward over the chair. My legs flew skyward. Thank goodness I was wearing those bloomers, after all. At any rate, I could see the frills on the bloomers in front of my eyes in full display. Through my upturned legs, I could see Mr. Entwistle averting his eyes. The rat chose that moment to run across my face. I screamed and screamed, and the rat darted under a bookcase.
Now that I was rat-free, I tried to pull myself together. I did my best to right myself, but as I struggled to my feet, the oranges fell out of my bra and rolled across the floor. “Vitamin C,” I squeaked. “For my sore throat. I’ve lost my purse so had to wear them on my person.” This time, I didn’t need to disguise my voice, given that I had screamed so loudly at the rat.
Thankfully there was now no sign of the rat, and I managed to pull myself to my feet. I felt a little lighter given that the oranges were on the floor. I hoped Mr. Entwistle and Barbara didn’t notice that a certain part of my person was now smaller than it had been.
Unfortunately, my heavy fall backward onto the floor had burst the pillows tied around me, and feathers were falling out from under my hideous black dress. I had no idea how to explain that one away, so I just pretended I didn’t notice.
I clutched the pillows to me so they wouldn’t fall out. “Sore stomach,” I squeaked again. “From seeing the rat. I’m allergic to rats.”
“I’ll have the rat, if that’s all right with you, Camino,” Barbara said. “Sue and I always kept rats as pets when we were children. Sue must’ve been mistaken. She told me that you loved rats.”
Well, why didn’t she leave it to you in the will? I thought. I clutched the deflated pillows and nodded to Barbara. “Thank you, thank you. May I leave now, Mr. Entwistle? I feel ill.”
“Yes, please do,” Mr. Entwistle managed to say between sneezes. The room was rapidly filling up with feathers.
Chapter 21
Ruprecht was standing in front of a whiteboard with a thin wooden pointer. It looked like the Elder Wand from Harry Potter, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud. In his other hand, he clutched a whiteboard marker. “So, what do we know now?” Without waiting for anyone to answer, he pushed on. “We know that Sue was killed with botulinum; Botox if you will. We also know that Sue had Botox treatment at Simone’s the day she died. Now, the police also know that, yet have not charged Simone. Rather, they arrested Camino. What does that tell us?”
I felt like I was back in school. I looked at Thyme and Mint, but no one spoke. Camino was still in her room. Ruprecht had told us that she had been out for meals, but had gone back and locked herself in again. At least we
knew she was alive. Ruprecht refused to let her return home until the murderer was safely behind bars.
And so Thyme, Mint, and I were sitting in front of Ruprecht’s whiteboard in one of the back rooms at his store. We were all sipping hot cinnamon, orange, and Rooibos tea, and eating an unseemly number of chocolate chip cookies as well as peanut butter fudge cupcakes I had brought from the store. I hadn’t baked them, needless to say.
I was the first to speak up. “I’m not too sure,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
“I suppose it means that the police are very sure that Simone didn’t do it?” Thyme ventured.
Ruprecht nodded. “Yes, but they arrested Camino, so we cannot have full confidence in the police.” He stretched up his hand and wrote on the whiteboard, ‘Suspects’. He underlined the word with a flourish. Underneath it, he wrote, ‘Barbara, Simone, Madison, Bob,’ and then wrote a question mark. “There must also be a suspect that we have not yet suspected,” he said. “It’s always good to leave the matter open.”
With a scrawl, Ruprecht wrote ‘Motive’, and underlined it three times. Under it, he wrote, ‘Money, Love, Revenge’. He turned to us. “These are the three main motives for killing someone. If Barbara was the murderer, then her motive was money. If Simone is the killer, then her motive can either be revenge or love. We know it cannot have been money. And if we have an unknown assailant, then we know that their motive was in love or revenge. Now, we know that Sue was having an affair with Bob, Madison’s husband. That means that if Bob or Madison killed Sue, then their motive was love or revenge, maybe even both. Now where does that leave us?”
“If you don’t mind me saying so,” I said. “I thought the murderer would come forward and reveal him or herself. Isn’t that why we went to all the trouble of putting eggs in Sue’s hands?”