A Deadly New Year: A Mt. Abrams Mystery (The Mt. Abrams Mysteries)

by Dee Ernst

Sybil had returned and grabbed Sam. I was not invited to their little conference, although Sam told me all about it as we drove home.

  It seemed that Rob Gillian had been taken under the wing of a renowned chef, and had been carefully mentored, with the full expectation of taking over said chef’s three star restaurant outside of Lyon. Before that could happen, the bank foreclosed on the property, sending the chef into the street and an ever-deepening depression. He ended up hanging himself, and Rob, devastated, returned home.

  Louis, it seemed, was the banker involved. Louis never met Rob, nor the famous chef, and in his statement, swore he was only doing his job. But Detective Stuart had found an entire file on Louis Michel and his part not only in that foreclosure, but also in similar actions involving several other properties in Lyon, all of which were later bought up by the same slightly notorious businessman with ties to the Russian Mafia. Although no charges were ever brought against Louis, he was given a very large incentive to resign, which he did.

  Rob apparently recognized Louis right away. The theory was that Rob knew something about Louis and the foreclosure that would have brought down the wrath of Interpol. Rob confronted Louis; Louis followed him into the kitchen, where they argued, and Louis killed him.

  That was the theory.

  Sam did not agree, but it wasn’t Sam’s case. Detective Stuart was certain of her facts. Louis was the only one with a previous connection to Rob, other than Nadia and of course, Meg, and both of those women were not alone for any of the time during which the murder could have taken place. Rob had talked about revenge, so it was a natural assumption that he would confront Louis. Louis did not follow Sybil to their room after receiving his envelope from Nadia. He claimed he was in the library, alone. But, being alone he could have been anywhere. Like in the kitchen, stabbing Rob.

  Detective Stuart did not care about the missing papers from Sam’s Saturday morning session, and went as far as mentioning obstruction and interference when he got…insistent.

  Luckily, Sybil and Louis’s lawyer was one of the ones who had driven up the night before, and Louis would be out on bail by Monday morning.

  We talked in spurts all the way home, Sam explaining, me asking questions, then an hour of silence before we began again. He had found nothing in Nadia’s room, but that meant nothing. Had Rob really threatened Nadia? Did Meg really hate him? By the time we turned into the parking lot behind Sam’s condo, I was exhausted, hungry and, although still convinced of Louis’s innocence, no closer to figuring out who the real killer was.

  I left my suitcase in Sam’s car, just grabbing my overnight bag. Sam didn’t have much in his refrigerator, but we managed to put together a virtual feast of leftover chili, not-quite-stale cornbread, and a block of cheddar cheese from a little shop in Manchester, all washed down with some lovely wine.

  I spoke to Caitlyn, gave her a run-down of what had happened, and then told her I was back in Jersey but would spend the night at Sam’s. She didn’t argue.

  By midnight I had fallen asleep against Sam’s shoulder while we’d been sitting in front of the television, but he woke me up so I could text the girls a Happy New Year. I watched the ball drop, kissed him, thanked the romance gods for giving me such a caring and special man, then promptly fell asleep again.

  Sam dropped me home around ten in the morning on New Year’s Day. Boot was the only one awake, so I took her for a long walk. It was cold, but sunny and there was just enough snow on the ground to be pretty. We came back to a house still asleep, so I made coffee and started frying bacon.

  It was Kyle who came down first, looking sleepy and not at all embarrassed about coming directly from my daughters bedroom.

  “Hey, Ellie, Happy New Year.” He shuffled over, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then started the Keurig. “Is it true another dead body followed you? All the way to Vermont?”

  Kyle was fairly adorable, especially with his hair all smooshed up on one side of his head, his big blue eyes blinking in the sunlight. Which was why I didn’t throw something at him.

  “No, a body did not follow me. However, someone did come to a rather unfortunate end.”

  “Are you and Sam working the case?”

  “What? Why—no, we are not working the case. The police in Manchester have a suspect. We are back in New Jersey. End of story.”

  He grinned. “I doubt it. Can I help you? I make killer omelets, no pun intended.”

  I laughed. “Sure, Kyle, that would be great. I set the bacon on some paper towels to drain and stepped out of his way.

  Tessa emerged a few minutes later and was actually so happy to see me that she forgot she was eleven and thought I was the worst person in the world. She ate half of the bacon, the omelet Kyle made for me, and three pieces of toast. I watched in amazement while Kyle whipped up another omelet with ease. Once Tessa was done eating, she went into the living room to turn on the television.

  “You really got her to sit through twenty hours of The Lord of the Rings?”

  He laughed. “It’s not quite twenty hours, but yeah, she was into it. I think she had the hots for the elf.”

  “She’s eleven, Kyle. Please don’t talk about her having the hots for anyone.”

  Caitlyn came up behind me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed my cheek. “I think eleven was my first crush. Justin Timberlake, if I recall.”

  I patted her arm. “True. And what’s-his-face, Julio’s kid?”

  “You mean Enrique Iglesias? He’s still hot. So is Justin. Wow, I have great taste in men!” She sat next to Kyle and gave him a quick kiss. “Do I get an omelet too?”

  He made an exaggerated sigh, then stood up to start breaking eggs. Cait pointed at him.

  “Now, that’s hot. Cute guy cooking.” She looked at me and bit off a mouthful of bacon. “So, how great was your weekend? Except for the murder part, that is.”

  I was contemplating another cup of coffee, but it seemed too much effort. “It was great for the first half of the first day. He has great friends, well, most of them. The inn was beautiful, very Country Living, Manchester was lovely, Sam and I were getting along fine, and then the chef and co-owner got stabbed with a boning knife.” I leaned back. “They have a suspect, the husband of one of Sam’s law school friends. There was a previous connection.”

  Something went off in my brain. I sat up. What was it?

  “Mom?”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just…”

  Kyle put down a plate in front of Cait, a perfectly rolled omelet with goat cheese oozing out of the sides.

  Breakfast? Something about breakfast? No, it was gone again.

  I sighed and pushed myself away from the table. “I’ve got to unpack. I wasn’t supposed to be back here until tomorrow. Did you all make plans for today?”

  Caitlyn said, “We’re going to grandma’s for dinner. I know the nursing home always has a nice dinner for New Year’s Day. She’s meeting Kyle.”

  “You’re finally going to meet the famous Leona?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a brave man, Kyle,” I said, and went upstairs. I spent twenty minutes staring into the rumpled clothes in my suitcase, trying to remember what, if anything, I was just reminded of.

  Breakfast.

  I had nothing.

  I hated when that happened.

  My mother was dressed in black pants and a bright red silk tunic, with gold earrings and a gold and green cone-shaped party hat. Mom had always loved a celebration. I was fairly certain she had not been awake at midnight to ring in the New Year, but she was certainly making up for it today.

  She was not on a restricted diet, so she graciously took the glass of wine I poured for her. She was alert and happy, and best of all, knew who I was. Some days I saw her and that was not the case. I had been, in the past year, a social worker, dental assistant, and a newspaper reporter, on assignment to write her biography. But today I was Elizabeth, and I was not the teenaged Elizabeth, but the one old enough to have daughters. That mad
e it a good day.

  Kyle was kind and sweet. After about ten minutes, The Conversation began.

  “So, Caitlyn,” my mother asked. “Where’s your engagement ring?”

  “I don’t have a ring, Grandma.”

  “And why not? Mr. Hot-Shot-Works-In-New-York can’t buy you a ring?”

  “Mom,” I said, “they really haven’t been dating all that long.”

  My mother rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? Isn’t this the same dorky kid she used to play with in grammar school?” I was amazed she remembered that. “They’ve known each other their whole lives. What’s the hold-up?”

  We were in the main living room. The building had once been a mansion, and the owners had kept the high ceilings, fireplaces, and beautiful moldings wherever they could. We were sitting in a group by the tall windows, the other residents not even pretending to not listen. Connie waved from across the room. “Leona is right. You’re a pretty girl. Cuter than he is. He’d better get you now before somebody better comes along.”

  My mother leaned in and dropped her voice. “That Connie needs to mind her own business, but she’s right. Caitlyn, he may have money, but…you’re a nine. Maybe a nine and a half. He’s not.” She sat back smugly and reached for her wine glass. “More, please?”

  Tessa looked up at me. “When I get older, I’m never coming here” she said in a low voice.

  Caitlyn laughed as Kyle blushed. “I tell you what, Grandma. As soon as you find me a ten, we’ll talk.”

  Connie waved her hand again. “My grandson, Paul. A solid ten. Am I right, Leona?”

  Mom looked thoughtful. “She’s right. Paul is quite the hottie.” She looked over at Connie. “We’ll talk,” she yelled.

  Tessa began to bounce her left leg. “Seriously, Mom. Never. Coming. Here.”

  I poured my mother more wine. “I must say, Mom, you’re looking really good. Have you got a boyfriend?”

  She sighed. “Really, dear. Look around. The men here are hopelessly underrepresented. But I’m taking a yoga class on Fridays now. Excellent for the mind and body. Oh, are they serving? Let’s go, I want to sit by the window.”

  Cait took her wine as Kyle helped her up. Mom smiled brightly at me. “Ellie?”

  My brain was going a mile a minute and then, suddenly, the penny dropped. Yoga.

  Yoga class.

  Yoga weekend.

  “Yes, Mom. I’m right behind you.”

  Monday the kids were off from school, but I left Tessa and Cait and met up with Shelly and Carol for our usual walk. Carol usually didn’t walk in the winter, but the temperature had spiked to almost forty degrees. The snow was melting and Boot drove me crazy avoiding mud, puddles—anything that would get her feet wet. Most spoiled dog ever.

  “So, I hear your had another murder,” Carol began. “How on earth do you do it?”

  “I don’t do anything,” I insisted. “Honestly, do you think I plan this stuff out in advance?”

  Shelly had cut her hair in a very short pixie cut over Christmas, and she looked like a kid. She had claimed she was tired of having to tie her hair back when she ran, but I suspected it was part of her gradual change into a new life with a new man. “Of course not,” she said. “Although you have to admit, this has been a pretty crazy year for you.”

  “It must have been very exciting to see Sam in action,” Carol said. “As a detective I mean.” She looked over meaningfully.

  “Yes, it was, for a while,” I said. “Do you know that Shelly doesn’t know who Nick and Nora Charles are?”

  Carol raised an eyebrow. “Really? Oh, Shelly, how disappointing.”

  Shelly rolled her eyes. “Ellie is the mystery fan, not me, you know that. Give me a billionaire in a tux and a hot secretary and I can read for days. Crime solving? Not so much.”

  “And speaking of romance…” Carol elbowed Shelly. “How was your celebration with James?”

  Shelly turned all kinds of red, pink, fuchsia…the woman found new colors to blush. “We had a good time,” she mumbled. “But we weren’t talking about me.”

  “No,” I said, “but we could be.” I didn’t want to pry. Honestly. But after months of staying at arms length, Shelly had decided to spend the night with James on New Year’s Eve for the very first time. I knew it wasn’t a decision made lightly. But Mike was beginning to accept the fact that Shelly was not going back to him, and had signed a separation agreement. Shelly was now talking about a lawyer and divorce.

  “What I want to talk about,” Shelly said loudly, “is Ellie and Sam and Vermont. Did you have any time together before, well, you know.”

  I nodded and tugged on Boot’s leash. “Yes. We got to chat with everybody Friday night, and his friends were all great. Smart and very welcoming. Then we got to walk around Manchester, did some window-shopping, you know, just walked and talked. We even started playing the game, the mystery. I was the victim.”

  “Oh dear,” Carol said. “I imagine that would have been very dull.”

  “Yes, it would have. But then somebody stuck a knife into the chef, Rob, and that kind of ended the dull part of the weekend.”

  “So, did you and Sam figure out who did it?” Shelly asked.

  I shook my head. “No. The police did background checks, of course, and found out something about Rob and one of the guests.”

  “But?” Carol said

  “But we don’t think they got the right person. Somebody else lied. And that’s usually a big red flag. I just don’t know what I can do about it now.”

  “Sam will know,” Shelly said. “And this time, he won’t get angry at you for trying to figure this out. You’ll be on the same side.”

  “True. But we’re here in New Jersey, the crime scene is Vermont, the suspects are all over the country by now, and our most important clue disappeared.”

  Carol sniffed. “Not to worry, Ellie. You know we’ll be glad to help. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  Hmm…maybe.

  Chapter 7

  Sam called me after dinner. “You won’t believe who left a message at the station for me.”

  “Who?”

  “Meg Gillian.”

  I stopped clearing off the table to stand perfectly still, causing Tessa to bump into me and be even more pissed off at me than she was already. “Did you call her back?”

  “Not yet. What?”

  I sat down slowly. “Just a hunch. Can you ask her what she and Rob were arguing about? That Friday night we arrived?”

  Oh, he knew me so well. “What’s going on?”

  “I think Annalise was lying to us.”

  He was silent. “About what?”

  “Didn’t you say that the only one of us who had a previous connection to Rob was Louis?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “Saturday morning at breakfast, before you came down, she told me she’d been there before, to Chilton House, on a yoga weekend. Isn’t that something the police would have found out?”

  He was silent a little longer. “Yes.”

  “She said she’d been there before, that Rob was a great cook, and that’s why she had recommended Chilton House to Bradley in the first place.”

  “What about the argument?”

  “She said she’d heard them, and they were fighting about money. How could she have possibly heard them? They were in the foyer, Sam. I couldn’t hear them, and I was barely ten feet away.”

  “I’ll ask Meg. I’ll call her now.”

  He hung up so abruptly he may have cracked something on his end.

  I got back up and finished cleaning off the table in silence. Tessa slammed a few more things into the sink, put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Have I done enough?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She started to slink away. “And Tessa? Anytime you don’t want any allowance at all, you just let me know. Then, you won’t have to do any chores, okay?”

  She did not turn around, but her shoulders became stiffer, and I knew her expression would be
that of a martyr.

  An hour later, Sam was at the door.

  “She found our paperwork,” he said, before even taking off his coat. “She found the interview pages in the dining room, crammed in the dresser drawer where she would set up the coffee. She’s sending them to me overnight.”

  “Golly.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Golly?”

  I shrugged. “I started re-watching Downton Abbey. What about the argument?”

  “Ah, yes.” He sat down and Boot wriggled at his feet, begging for attention. Sam obligingly scratched her behind one ear. “She saw his phone. There was a text from a number she didn’t recognize, a very suggestive text.”

  “Suggesting what?”

  “Sex in the upstairs linen closet. Or possibly on one of the dining room tables.”

  “Oh, that must have gone over well.”

  “She, of course, insisted on knowing who it was, and he was equally insistent that it was not one of the guests. But Meg is pretty confident that Rob was planning a little guest-host interaction.” Boot had gone from the floor to the couch, and was now practically on Sam’s lap. “And she did not remember Annalise as being a previous guest.”

  I sat down opposite Sam. “So, what are we going to do?”

  “Sybil and Louis are back in New York. I just spoke to her, and she told me there was bruising on the inside of Rob’s mouth, suggesting he was hit. There was also bruising on Louis’s knuckles. Louis admits that Rob did confront him, and that Louis hit him on the jaw, because Rob started making threats. Louis says that it all happened earlier Saturday morning, and that Rob ducked, and was there was barely any contact. Add the fact that Louis claims he was poking around on the third floor, when everyone else was supposed to be in their rooms reading about their characters, and Laura Stuart feels she has a good case.”

  “Do you?”

  “Not now. Not after finding out about Annalise.”

  “Do you think she was the one Rob was planning to meet?”

  He sank back and closed his eyes. “Maybe. How do I ask my oldest friend if his wife was cheating on him?”