Dead In The Dining Room

by Leighann Dobbs

  Stephanie’s eyes flew to her stepmother, and Araminta could see the barely shuttered hostility in her gaze. “Daisy called me, and yes, she did tearfully confess that our father was poisoned.”

  Daisy’s back went straight, and her warm smile of greeting faded. “‘Confess’ is kind of an odd word to use, but the news that anyone would wish your father’s death so much that they would stoop to committing murder is difficult for all of us.”

  Bernard seemed to sense the tension between Stephanie and Daisy, because he stepped in to defuse the situation. “We’re waiting for the police to tell us more, Stephanie. Detective Hershey is leading the investigation. Until then, we are all still family and grieving together over the loss of dear Archibald. But let’s not dwell on such sad news when you’ve been away for so long. How have you been?”

  “Fine.” Steph seemed distracted and didn’t elaborate. Her eyebrows drew together. “Old Jacob Hershey is looking into matters? But… isn’t he retired from the force now? I could have sworn I heard he’d left the department several years back, but I must confess I’ll feel better knowing he’s taking care of the investigative side of things.”

  “Oh, not Jacob, darling,” Daisy hurriedly informed her. “It’s his grandson Ivan now. He’s doing a wonderful job of looking into things.”

  Stephanie took the news with only a slight cut of her eyes to her uncle then back to her stepmother.

  Araminta thought it sad how the girl didn’t want to acknowledge her as part of their family. Daisy had loved their father very much. At least, Araminta believed she had. And Archie, well, Daisy had become his world. She was his everything.

  Arun and Sasha chose that moment to descend upon the family. Stephanie scooped up one cat then the other and hugged them both close as she rubbed her face into their fur and murmured a happy hello to each of them affectionately. Then she turned to Araminta.

  “Hello, Aunt Minty. How are you holding up? I hope Father’s death hasn’t been too upsetting for you.” Her gaze flicked to Araminta’s bold outfit. “I see your fashion sense is still the same.”

  Araminta blinked back a tear then hurriedly replaced her moment of sadness with a genuine smile of welcome for her niece. “Oh, we are all quite devastated, darling, me included. But come, do you have a hug for your aunt left in those arms? I can’t begin to express how much we’ve missed you, dear.”

  Stephanie had left Moorecliff Manor five years ago, shortly after Archibald had married Daisy. She had been young and full of belligerence as well as terribly missing her deceased mother. From time to time, she had come home again, mostly at her father’s insistence. Archie had been convinced that if she would give Daisy a chance, the two of them would love each other.

  Not Stephanie. She simply saw Daisy as a usurper who’d married her father only because she wanted the Moorecliff money. A gold digger, she’d said to Reginald many a time. When Archie had overheard these conversations, he’d nipped them in the bud, taking Daisy’s side. Soon after, Stephanie always found a reason to leave the manor, and her visits home had been infrequent.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Stephanie turned and collected a couple of the bags from where Harold had left them near the door on an antique table. “I hope you won’t mind, but I wasn’t sure if I would be here in time for lunch.” She shrugged slightly and continued, “I’m sure no one feels much like eating, but I stopped by Gianno’s on the way in.”

  Her gaze reluctantly flickered to her stepmother, who was clearly distraught, and she made one tiny concession. “There’s enough for everybody.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After sharing the lunch Stephanie had brought with the rest of the family, Araminta followed her upstairs to the room that was her usual when she was in residence at the manor to help her unpack.

  This room reminded Araminta of springtime. It was done up in whites, pastel blues, and pinks and had a bit of mint green as an accent color. Since it was on the same side of the house as her own suite of rooms, it also looked down into the garden.

  The heavy drapes were open, and light spilled in from outside, lighting the gilding on the antique hand-crafted furniture, but Stephanie seemed not to notice. Instead, she plopped her heavy bag alongside her handbag on the pleated mint-green coverlet spread across the full-sized four-post bed.

  Sasha and Arun were so happy to see her again that they zipped into the room soon after and hopped onto the bed. Arun nudged Stephanie’s luggage as if trying to turn the bag over, while Sasha poked her head into and sniffed at Stephanie’s posh designer handbag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Stephanie gathered Sasha for some loving.

  “I still cannot believe he’s gone, Aunt Minta, and Reggie said something about evidence pointing to Harold. I can’t believe that’s true,” Stephanie said a moment later, her voice heavy with unshed tears.

  Araminta found it troubling as well. It was too much like one of those old mystery novels she used to devour in her youth, in which the butler was always found to have committed the murder, no matter who else had motive. “I agree it makes no sense. I’ve tried to make sense of it all but have not as yet been able to put two and two together.”

  Stephanie gave her a grateful look, but Araminta could see deep sadness in her eyes. “We all miss your father very much, Stephanie, dear, but probably none so much as poor Daisy.”

  Stephanie abruptly put Sasha down on the coverlet and stood. Avoiding Araminta’s gaze entirely, she darted her eyes around the room as though she were searching for something. Her gaze landed at least once per turn on everything, yet it seemed she saw nothing.

  Araminta recognized the tactic as a sign that Stephanie was upset about something… something to do with her father’s death, but she didn’t ask what. Instead, she waited for her niece to say whatever was on her mind. After this many years, she knew Stephanie well enough to know the answer would soon be forthcoming.

  “If you ask me, the detective should be looking more closely at Daisy,” Stephanie said finally. “After all, Father gave her everything, but she was never satisfied. She always wanted more. She would inherit a lot of money. Who would have more motive than her?”

  Araminta looked at her niece for a moment, feeling puzzled. Daisy had never struck her as the gold-digging sort. Nor had she mentioned in their brief chat on the subject anything about either of the children being aware of what was in their father’s will, but perhaps Stephanie knew as much about what was in it as it seemed Reginald had. “Why would you say such a thing, my dear? Of course your father doted on Daisy. He did love her, after all, and such attentiveness was to be expected. And I never saw her asking for more. In fact, she’s quite generous and never asks for a thing.”

  Stephanie pressed her lips together as if trying to think up examples of how Daisy had wanted more, but she couldn’t. Araminta suspected that Stephanie wasn’t seeing things quite the way they really were. She was so invested in thinking that Daisy had bad intentions that she couldn’t see the good side of her.

  After a moment, Stephanie shrugged and went to open the closet so that she could put her clothes inside. “Is it attentiveness, then, to train one’s second wife to take over the family business?”

  Araminta considered the point. What was Stephanie getting at? That Daisy’s plan all along had been to take the helm at Moorecliff Motors? She waited while Stephanie unzipped her bag then said gently, “Perhaps he trusted her. And she’s quite smart, you know. It’s also clear to any who dared look that Daisy loved your father too. She was interested in the company because he was interested, dear. She wanted to be able to understand him. Moorecliff Motors has been such a big part of all our lives throughout the years.”

  Araminta reached for one of Stephanie’s jackets then took it to the closet and hung it inside. “Besides, I find it difficult to believe your stepmother could have done such an evil thing as poison him, especially with all the family right there looking on.”

  Unconvinced, Stephanie took a stack of clothes from h
er suitcase, which now lay open on the bed, and walked to the closet, where she pushed them inside. She reached for a hanger and slid a shirt onto it then another for pants and another for the matching jacket, then she began hanging them in place.

  “Perhaps you’ve let your desire to see the best in everyone cloud your once-formidable judgment, Aunt Minta. Time has a way of dulling one’s senses. You should think about Daisy a bit more, because no one is as good as you seem to believe she is. I’m almost positive it was her who killed Father. Right, Arun?” she asked, reaching down to lift the cat, who’d been circling her ankles in hopes of some cuddling.

  Araminta started to respond to her accusation, but given the bitterness she heard in her niece’s voice, she decided better of it. Maybe she was letting her fondness for Daisy get in the way of her ability to see an aptitude in her for committing a crime most heinous. Perhaps, Araminta thought, though she truly couldn’t make herself believe it. Still, something about Archie’s death didn’t sit quite right. But she still couldn’t imagine Daisy as his killer, given everything she knew of those two.

  After putting away the last of Stephanie’s dresses, Araminta quietly closed the closet then called to the cats as she walked to open the bedroom door. “I don’t think anyone is quite ready to eat in the dining room yet, so I will have Trinity bring up a tray for supper.”

  Back on the bed, her cell phone now in hand, Stephanie stood and thanked her. She waited for the cats to heed Araminta’s call and leave the room, then Araminta heard the snick of the door as Stephanie pushed it closed behind her. She sighed, her mind caught up on whether or not she was right about Daisy as she made her way back downstairs.

  “It’s on us, darlings,” she said to the cats. “But time is running out. We have to figure out which of the people currently residing in the manor is also Archibald’s murderer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Having promised Daisy the day before that she would be there with her for support for the reading of Archibald’s will, Araminta dressed with care for their trip to speak with the family lawyers. She chose a bright-red jacket to put over a deep-blue silk shirt and orange slacks with a pair of white pumps. Since it was a somber occasion, she bypassed the large orange hoop earrings and bold brass necklace with the glittery sun pendant she usually wore with this outfit and opted instead for a set of pearl studs and an understated double strand of pearls.

  Feeling confident and powerful, she called to the cats, who would be left to wander the house on their own for the morning, and hurried downstairs to meet with the rest of the family.

  The scene that greeted her was troublesome. On one side of the parlor, quite alone, stood Daisy. She was wearing a somber dress in deep green. On the other side, Bernard waited. He had chosen a simple outfit for the day. He was wearing a standard three-piece suit and looked very much like a man of business. On the sofa, Reggie spoke quietly with a sulking Stephanie—it should have been a touching scene of family togetherness, but Araminta felt an extreme sense of division.

  “A house divided cannot stand,” she mumbled, feeling quite put out that this one—her very own family—was so obviously divided. She resolved in that exact moment to somehow bring the remaining Moorecliffs back together. They were family, and family was always important. She couldn’t allow the rift to deepen. But first, before she could resolve anything, they must go for the reading of the will, and they might as well get it over with.

  “Good morning, my lovelies. Are we all ready to go?” Araminta greeted everyone warmly as she swept into the room. “The appointment is at nine, I believe, but knowing old Luther, he won’t show up before half past.”

  Daisy turned to offer a smile of greeting, which slowly crumbled when she saw Araminta’s outfit. “Er, it’s Sedgewick, aunt, who will be reading Archie’s will. Luther retired early last year, remember?”

  Araminta frowned. “Oh dear, yes, I guess he did. Well, then, let’s hope that Sedgewick is more prompt.”

  Bernard also looked surprised. Perhaps he, too, was feeling a little unnerved about the quick passage of time, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he made a show of motioning to the bereaved Moorecliff siblings. “Come along, children. Harold has already called for a car. Trinity came by a moment ago to let us know it’s outside and waiting.”

  Daisy started forward then hesitated. “Bernard, are you sure you want to come along? With Araminta and the children, I’m sure we can manage, if you’d prefer to meet us at the funeral home.”

  “Of course I shall be there,” he said as the children passed to go to the waiting vehicle. “I’m going to take my own car, to give you privacy with the children in the family vehicle, but never suggest I would allow you to do this alone. I should be there with you. After all, you’re my brother’s widow.”

  “Yes, but…” Daisy started, and Araminta figured she was uncomfortable about having him along, since she knew he would not be inheriting control of Moorecliff Motors.

  “Do hurry, Daisy,” she said, breaking in to cut off her protests. “If Sedgewick is the retainer we’re meeting and my memory serves, he prefers to do things most promptly.”

  The law offices of Broomford, Broomford, and Vance looked similar to every other law office Araminta had ever been in. The muted olive-green carpet was tasteful but expensive. The walls were covered in mahogany bookcases filled with law books, their gilded spines standing in rows like silent soldiers. The receptionist was pleasant and nondescript.

  Sedgewick Broomford ushered them back to his private office and took a seat in the high-back leather chair behind a fancily carved mahogany desk. The rest of them found seating in the tufted leather club chairs and the matching sofa.

  After the usual pleasantries, Sedgewick straightened the pile of papers on his desk, glanced around at them, then began.

  Araminta listened intently as he read her late nephew’s final wishes. Archibald had left each of his children a handsome sum but in trusts to be managed by Daisy until each of them married.

  Stephanie visibly rolled her eyes at the prospect of having her future doled out by her stepmother, but she didn’t seem overly surprised. Since Reggie had already confessed that he knew of the arrangement, Araminta was sure Stephanie had also known. The next part, though, was apparently a surprise to Bernard.

  “As for Moorecliff Motors, control has been left solely in the capable hands of Ms. Daisy Moorecliff. Archibald makes it clear this is also the choice of the board members.”

  “What?” Bernard was aghast. “But… but… I’m next in line. I mean, I run the West Coast division! I don’t understand. Daisy has never been involved in the company. How can she possibly be expected to competently run the whole thing?”

  “You know, Bernard, women do run companies these days,” Daisy pointed out in the kindest way amid his bluster. “Quite competently, too, as a matter of fact. And it’s not true that I haven’t been involved. I’ve actually been very involved. Archie has been grooming me to take over for ages.”

  Peering up at him, Daisy was the very picture of calm when she said, “As you’re Archie’s brother, I’m sure you will heed his wishes in this matter. And of course, you’ll always be there for me should I need anything, won’t you?”

  Realizing he’d stepped into territory best left untrod for the moment, Bernard calmed himself and nodded. “Of course, Daisy. You know I’ll be there, and as this is clearly my brother’s decision, you know you can count on me to support you.”

  Sedgewick cleared his throat and continued, “Master Moorecliff also left generous sums to the members of the household staff to be disbursed immediately in addition to what awaits each of them at retirement. We will need to speak with them separately.”

  Sedgewick read that Archibald had also made provisions for the care of his aunt—which was news to Araminta. Araminta had plenty of her own money, but her heart was warmed that Archie had stipulated that she was to have a permanent residence at the manor for the rest of her life and to be l
ooked after by every member of the Moorecliff family.

  The meeting finished soon after. As they all headed to the cars for the trip to the funeral home, Araminta quietly confessed she was glad it was over. But in the car, she privately admitted something else, though only to herself, and not one whit of it was good. The news of bequests to the servants had come as a surprise. If Harold or Trinity had somehow learned of the money they would inherit upon Archibald’s death, would the sum have tempted them to commit murder?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Davidson Funeral Parlor was an old Victorian house with a wide porch and understated gingerbread trim painted in a subtle slate blue and white. Baskets of flowers hung from the ceiling of the porch, and a somber man in a dark suit opened the door for them.

  Inside, it was tastefully decorated, as one might expect. One could just barely hear somber music being piped in, and the air was heavy with the cloying scent of flowers.

  The front room was filled with flowers, and a lovely bronze urn sat on a table at the front, flanked by two vases with red roses. Araminta was glad that Archie had wanted to be cremated prior so that they didn’t have to mourn over the casket.

  The pastor from the church Daisy and Archie favored was already there, and the family took their seats while he said a few words about Archie and offered up a prayer.

  When he was done, the family exchanged remembrances of Archie. It was just the five of them—Daisy, Bernard, Araminta, Stephanie, and Reggie—which made it more personal and intimate. Perhaps Archie had envisioned it that way, but Araminta doubted that he would have envisioned that one of the people exchanging those remembrances could be his killer.

  Bernard got a little misty-eyed as he hugged them all after the service before departing for his car.