by Dee Ernst
“That doesn’t necessarily make her the murderer,” I said.
“No. But it certainly gives her motive. And him.”
“Bradley? Come on, Sam, Bradley is like the Pillsbury Doughboy of lawyers.”
Sam pushed Boot off his lap and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped. “Our third year of law school, there was a tremendous blizzard. The power went out, classes were cancelled, and the whole town was paralyzed. Bradley and I went out on the third day to try to find some food. There was this dinky little sandwich shop we went to, a couple of times a week, and Bradley called and asked if they were open, and if they had stuff to eat. We knew the old man who ran the place, his name was Eli, and Eli said yes, so Bradley and I bundled up and walked about a mile in the freezing cold, and at least two feet of snow, and by the time we got there, the shop was closing up. Eli was worried about another front coming through, and he wanted to go home. Bradley said fine, we’ll take whatever food you have left. Well, there wasn’t anything left. In the hour it had taken us to walk there, he’d sold everything but some orange juice and some bags of chips.”
Sam stared down at the floor.
“Bradley went crazy. He reached over and grabbed that poor old man by the throat and pulled him over the top of the counter, screaming. He used his fist. I was so shocked I almost didn’t grab him in time. Bradley was going to beat Eli. Luckily I could hold him back, and Eli wasn’t really hurt, just shaken up. So I hauled Bradley back outside and threw him down in the snow. He tried to get past me to that old man. Three times. I’d never seen anything like it.”
Sam looked up at me. “You can never really know what a person is capable of.”
Golly.
Tuesday it was cold again, rainy one minute, sleeting the next. I spent the day working, wearing my rattiest and warmest sweats and drinking tea. I felt that burn behind my eyes and rawness in my throat, and started popping vitamin C pills after lunch. I had just started with a new author, and she was driving me crazy. Her characters were wonderful, and her plot twists were amazing, but she couldn’t put a cohesive paragraph together to save her own life.
Sam called me. “I’m taking the afternoon off. I have the package from Meg. Can I come over?”
“Sure, but maintain a safe distance. I have the plague.”
He arrived a bit later, and we started reading, but it wasn’t making sense to me.
“Why isn’t this working?” I finally asked.
“Because the actual people aren’t here to answer questions. And it’s impossible to keep track of everyone, and where they were, and who they saw.” He ran his hand through his hair. “The answer is here, somewhere. I just don’t know how we’re going to find it without the actual people being here.”
“Maybe we could find other people.”
“Other people? To do what?”
“Pretend they’re these people.” I shook Sybil’s account at him. “I bet if we could see what everyone was doing, we’d spot the lies a lot easier.”
“Of course. We need to reenact what happened on Saturday. So we need a pretty big room, and what, ten people? Surely you can put that together.”
I grinned. “No problem.” I phoned Carol at the library. “Hey, this is going to sound odd, but is there anyone down there right now?”
She sighed. “Well, there’s me. And Lynn and her kids. And they’re the only ones I’ve seen all day. Have you been outside?”
“Listen, ask Lynn to stay right there. I’m on my way.”
I hollered up to Tessa, and as she came downstairs, I threw her coat at her. “Come with Sam and me. We need help.”
She made a face. Of course. “Need help with what?”
Sam crouched down in front of her. “I need you help to catch a killer. What do you think?”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? Can Jerome come too?”
Ah, Jerome, her best friend still, despite the pressures of middle school.
Sam nodded. “Absolutely. Have him meet us at the library.”
We walked down in the sleet. I called Mary Rose Reed and asked her if she could spare a few minutes. Normally, there would be a fifty-fifty chance of a flat refusal, but she had softened after I helped get her brother off the hook for murder. Shelly was working, but James worked from home, so I called him as well.
When we got to the library, Lynn Fahey and her kids were waiting dutifully. I thanked her, and she laughed.
“Are you kidding? Anything to keep from having to take this crew home. They don’t do so well after the holidays.”
“We need more people,” Sam muttered. “There were ten of us, Nadia, and Meg. And we should have someone represent Rob. Who else can you call?”
“Carol. We need more people.”
“For what?” Carol asked.
“Does it matter?”
Carol laughed. “I guess not. Give me a few minutes.”
It took Sam and I a few minutes to set up the room. We pushed the library tables to the side and arranged the chairs, giving each chair a name taped to its back. The layout of the first floor was easy, but trying to figure out the upstairs guest rooms was mostly guessing. When we were done, Emma McLaren and my Abrams Lane neighbors, Jack and Lillian Olsen, had joined the crowd.
Sam stood in the center of the room and clapped his hands.
“Okay, everyone, Thanks for helping us out. We’re just going to play a game. You all will get a new name. Then you will be told where to go. All these chairs represent a room, and when we say ‘go’, just walk to your room and stand there. Then, we’ll tell you where to go next.”
“Is this like Clue?” Jerome called.
Sam nodded. “Very much like that, Jerome. Good for you. So, you will be Bradley, in the living room. Come right over here.”
We all started in the living room. Since I was going to represent myself and Sam, that left Sam to carefully look through the pages to tell everyone where to go next.
“Bennett and Claudia, you’re gong to your room. All the guest rooms are by the windows there. Jory and Kevin, also your room. Sybil, your room. Louis, the library.” He called off instructions, paused, then said, “Okay, now everyone move.”
The kids did a better job than the adults for the first round. There was some laughter, and a few snide comments. Jack Olsen, standing in for Rob Gillian, looked around. “Where do I go?”
Sam shuffled through the papers again. “Well, no one claims to have seen you, so hang out in the kitchen for now.”
I left my assigned spot to stand with Sam. We glanced over everything once, then Sam cleared his throat. “It is now two fifteen. We’re moving again.” He read out directions to everyone. More laughter. Jerome raised his hand.
“When do we murder someone?”
Sam shook his head. “Jerome, I’m not going to tell your mother you said that.”
At the three o’clock turning, we saw it. Sam handed me Annalise's accounting. If she had, in fact, gone into the dining room for a cup of coffee, that at least two other people would have seen her going in and out. But no one had written that they had seen her near the dining room at all. She’d been seen sitting in the foyer.
“That means Bradley lied, too,” I said quietly.
Sam nodded.
We walked everyone through three-fifteen. Then three thirty. And there it was again.
Sam and I looked at each other. “How do we prove this?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “No idea.” He raised his voice. “Okay, thank you everyone. We have what we need.”
“So, who did it?” Lynn called.
Sam managed a smile. “As soon as I know for sure, I’ll let you know.”
I thanked Carol and then Sam, Tessa, and I walked slowly back up the hill with Jack and Lillian Olsen. They were a spry, lively couple, and Jack looked immensely proud of himself.
“Detective, any time you want a stand-in, you just let me know. It could be my new career.”
His wife, who had
the patience of a saint, shook her head. “It’ll go to his head, Detective. Please, don’t even think about it.”
I had to laugh, but Sam remained grim. We walked past the Olsen house, and Tessa ran ahead. I stopped Sam in the middle of Abrams Lane.
“What are we going to do?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Ellie, what can we do? I can run fingerprints, and that will probably confirm that Annalise took these and hid them. But what would that prove? Laura Stuart has her case. It will take more than our game of musical chairs to convince her otherwise.”
“What about Bradley? Could you talk to him?”
“And tell him what? That his wife was cheating on him and stabbed her lover with a kitchen knife?”
We walked on up the road. Sam stood beside his car, jingling the keys in his pocket. “I’ll call up to Manchester. Have a conversation. See how willing they are to investigate further.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate all your help. Really.”
He got into his car and drove off. I stood for a few more minutes, looking out at the lake, then went inside to start dinner.
Chapter 8
January moved slowly. I worked. Tessa went to school. Caitlyn started talking about going to France again. Shelly and James were becoming an official couple, going out to dinner and slipping down to Zeke’s for drinks with Sam and me.
And then one Friday, Marc arrived to pick up Tessa, and he actually looked nervous.
“Marc. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Like I’m supposed to believe that? How long have I known you?”
He took a long, deep breath. “I’ve started seeing someone.”
It took a second for the words to sink in. It hit me… funny. Here was the man I’d thought I’d grow old with. When we divorced, I always dreamed we’d somehow get back together. Then, I met Sam. Was I in love with Sam? I wasn’t sure. Whatever the feeling was, it was different from what I’d felt with Marc, but I was older now, and, hopefully, wiser. Marc had told me he still loved me. He had suggested we get back together, and I put him off time and again.
And now, there was someone else in his life, and I wanted to feel happy for him. I really did.
But when he told me, something twisted, just a little bit, in my stomach.
“Marc, that’s great! Anyone I know?”
He looked down. “Lou.”
It took a second. “Lou Lombardi? My friend, Lou Lombardi?”
He met my eyes, looking rather pathetic. “Listen, Ellie, she wanted to tell you herself. I mean, we just kind of kept running into each other, and one thing led to another…is there some kind of sisterhood code being broken here? I’d hate for this to cost you your friendship with her. She thinks a lot of you.”
Well now. Lou Lombardi. Not a close friend, to be sure, but…was there a line to be crossed, especially when I had repeatedly told Marc I didn’t think we would work any better the second time around? And Lou was, well, a woman who tended to love men as a species, rather than as individuals. Was it possible that Marc was the man to get her to settle down?
“Ah, well, this is interesting. Wouldn’t it be funny if you moved back to Mt. Abrams?”
He shook his head. “Never.” His hair was turning gray. We’d often joked about what would happen to red hair once it started turning. He always said he’d love pink hair. But it seemed the dark, glossy red simply faded to an unexciting tan. His eyes were fading too, and there were wrinkles around his eyes and mouth I’d not noticed.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. “You look tired.”
He shrugged. “I’m thinking about stepping down.”
I sat back in surprise. Marc was a senior editor at a very well known publishing house with clients who regularly appeared on the national best-seller lists.
He shrugged. “The business is changing fast, and the dinosaurs running things are dragging their feet. I’m more of a hand-holder than anything else. I might take up freelancing. You seem to be doing okay.”
I nodded. “I’m doing great. Wow, Marc, your leaving would be a real loss. Let’s see—new woman, new job…is there a red sports car in your future?”
He laughed. “Maybe. Am I that obvious?”
Tessa came down the stairs, her overnight bag bumping behind her. She still spent alternate weekends with Marc, but her social life was butting heads with father-daughter time.
“Did you remember my sleepover?” she asked.
Marc nodded. “Yes. You’ll get there on time.”
“What about the movies on Sunday?”
He glanced at me. “Movie?”
Tessa dropped her bag with obvious exasperation. “Dad, I told you. I’m going to the movies with Sasha.”
Marc was still smiling. “Well, would you mind if I went with you? I promise to sit a few rows away, but we can go for ice cream later and talk about it. How does that sound?”
She frowned. “Can Sasha come for ice cream?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t sit with me? Promise?”
“Promise. I’ll even wear a fake beard if you want.”
The sarcasm was wasted on her. She sighed, picked up her bag, gave me a reluctant kiss, took her coat from the coat rack, and then stood patiently by the front door.
“Well, then,” Marc said heartily. “I’ll see you Sunday, Ellie.”
I watched them go. Boot jumped in the chair and pressed her nose against the window, whining softly. I stood beside her and scratched her ears.
“I know you miss him,” I said aloud. “Sometimes I do too.” She turned her muzzle into my hand. “Yes, we’ll see him again. Did you know about him and Lou?”
Boot looked up, her eyes all innocent. “Well, it’s just you and me tonight, I think. Sam won’t be over until late.” Cait would stop by to pick up her things for a weekend with Kyle, leaving Sam and me alone for the weekend. I had started planning something romantic, maybe a picnic in front of the fireplace, when he called.
“Is Tessa with Marc?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“How would you like to get away for a bit?”
“Oh? Where?”
“Vermont.”
“What?”
“I just spoke to Laura Stuart. Again. We’ve been having an ongoing conversation about this case. I told her about our little acting out adventure, and she wants to talk. She’s having second thoughts. ”
“I’m in.”
“About an hour?”
“Yep.” I quickly called Caitlyn. She had no problem with staying home with Boot.
I ran upstairs and started packing.
Chilton House looked the same as it had two weeks earlier, its red paint peeking out bravely from beneath the drifts of snow. The parking lot was empty, and there were only a few lights lit inside.
“And you’re sure?” I asked Sam.
He sat back and looked at the inn. “I spoke to Meg myself. But it sure doesn’t look open, does it?”
We got out and carried suitcases to the front door.
The foyer, stripped of its Christmas finery, looked serene and comfortable. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and, again, classical music in the background. Sam took my coat as I shrugged it off and wandered into the living room, then back across the foyer.
“Meg?” he called out.
Footsteps hurried to the stairs. “Oh, there you are,” Meg said as she came down. “I was just setting up your room.” She threw her arms around me in a quick hug. “Thank you for coming. Here, let me take your things upstairs. I’ll meet you in the living room in a few minutes.”
Sam took the suitcase from her grasp. “Meg, we can get our own things. Lead the way.”
We followed her up, and we were in our same room. She let us in.
“The code is the same,” she said. “I didn’t change anything after you left.”
“What about other guests?” I asked.
“There have been no o
ther guests.” She looked thinner, and there were dark circles under her eyes. “We’ll be re-opening for Valentine’s Day weekend. We cancelled everything up until then. I. I cancelled.”
“So, it’s just us?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. The Bishops will be here tomorrow.”
Sam looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “We can unpack later,” he said. “I think I could use a drink.”
We went back down and into the living room. Meg sat down in front of the fire while Sam poured himself a Scotch. He looked at me and I shook my head.
“Does Bradley know we’re here?” Sam asked.
Meg shook her head. “Detective Stuart told me not to tell them. And Ms. Townsend is coming too. Tomorrow.”
“Interesting,” Sam murmured. He sipped his drink. “Laura has been very busy.” He leaned back “How are you doing?”
Meg sighed. “Rob and I were not going to make it. His death was a shock, but I’m not as grieving a widow as I probably should be. He was a liar and a cheat throughout our marriage. At this point, I’m grateful for all the insurance more than I’m sorry at his being gone.” She had been staring down at her hands, her left thumb nervously rubbing the back of her right hand. She looked up with a wry smile. “Does that sound horrible?”
“Oh, Meg,” I said. “No, it doesn’t. It sounds like the truth. And you can’t argue with the truth. Were he and Annalise having an affair?”
She nodded. “Yes. That is, I think it was her. I did see them together early Friday afternoon, right after she arrived. Bradley and I were in the kitchen, putting away some of his wine, and we heard them coming. They were laughing together, but in a way that was… familiar? Like they’d known each other for a long time, instead of having just met? I didn’t really put it together until I saw the text on his phone later that evening.”
Sam nodded, as if to himself. “Did Bradley notice?”
“Oh, yes. He actually turned away, so when they came into the kitchen he wasn’t looking at them.” She looked down at her hands again. “She’s very beautiful.”
We sat in silence. I was watching Sam’s face. He was frowning slightly, as though trying to puzzle something out in his brain.