“Good idea. I doubt her awful family will leave flowers.” Cordelia stopped at the door and looked back at me. “You’ll let us know if Gus mentions anything about Adelaide’s passing, won’t you?” She glanced behind her to make sure no new customers were around and then cupped her hand over her mouth as she stage whispered, “My money is on one of her relatives.”
“Now, sister, come on. She likely died of natural causes.” Hattie pulled Cordelia out the door. The last one to leave was Bing, who winked at me as he closed the door behind him.
Cordelia’s parting words made me nervous. Adelaide had implied someone in her family might have had something to do with her demise. Maybe it couldn’t hurt to find out what Gus knew about her death. Adelaide hadn’t asked me to find her killer, and I had no intention of investigating her death, but it might be in my best interest to find out if there was foul play. If someone in her family was up to no good, it would be good to know so I could watch my back while I was looking for the recipe book.
“Meow.” Pandora had trotted over to me. She hopped up on the table and snaked her paw out to bat at my cell phone.
“Good idea. I can just call Gus and find out what she thinks.”
I picked up the phone and punched in Gus’s number.
“Hi, Willa. What’s going on?” Gus asked.
“Not much. Just haven’t talked in a while, so I thought I’d give you a call. You doing okay?”
Gus and I weren’t particularly close as sisters go. I’d left Mystic Notch to go to college, and she’d stayed, going to law school nearby and eventually becoming the sheriff. I’d only returned a few years ago, but since I’d lived five hours away, we had never had a lot of face time together. We’d gotten together for various holidays with our parents and Gram and talked on the phone, but the truth was that the two of us really didn’t know each other that well. Now that I was a permanent resident in the notch, that was all changing. We were becoming closer. We even shared a few secrets like the one where Gus played piano at a jazz bar in her off time. But we still didn’t gab on the phone every day.
“I’m great. How about you? How was your date with Striker last night?” she asked.
Jeepers, did the whole town know when we had a date? “How did you know we had a date? Are you spying on me?”
Gus laughed. “Hardly. Jimmy saw him down at the Silver Maple picking up Chinese food, and he reported back to me.”
“Oh.” Jimmy was one of Gus’s deputies. In Mystic Notch everyone knew everyone else’s business. I guess I shouldn’t expect to be any different. I didn’t like talking about my and Striker’s personal life, though, so I changed the subject. “I didn’t see you at Adelaide Hamilton’s wake yesterday.”
Gus paused. “Should I have gone?”
“She was a friend of Gram’s. Besides, someone dies in this town, you’d think it would be your business.”
“Are you trying to tell me you think she was murdered?”
“Could she have been?”
“She died peacefully in her sleep. Not every death in this town is a murder, Willa.”
Gus’s voice had a guarded tone. Since I’d come back to the notch, I’d had to get involved in a few murder investigations. I didn’t really want to, but the ghosts pestered me, and in order to get rid of them I had to do what the police weren’t doing. Gus hated it when I “meddled.” But her tone also told me that she had no reason to suspect Adelaide’s death and no intention of opening an investigation.
Adelaide was an old woman with cancer. It surely wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she would die, even if the cancer was in remission. And just because Adelaide hinted that someone had murdered her … well, that didn’t mean it was true.
I dropped the subject, and Gus and I made small talk for a few more minutes then disconnected. Of course Gus was right about Adelaide dying from natural causes. Cordelia was the same age as Adelaide, so it made sense she would see Adelaide as being too young to die. She was an old woman, and she was sick. No one murdered her. At least I hoped not, because otherwise my trip to the Hamilton estate to look for Betty’s recipes at noontime was going to be a lot more dangerous than I’d anticipated.
7
The Hamilton mansion sat on several acres of fields, woods, and landscaped yard. The main house was three stories faced in limestone and of a classically elegant design. It sat at the end of a sweeping driveway lined with colorful flower beds and lush budding shrubs.
It was an older house, built in the early 1900s, and the estate included several additional buildings. One was a large barn and another I assumed a servants’ or gardener’s quarters. I parked my Jeep in front of the house, pushed away a flurry of nerves, and knocked on the oversized wooden door.
The knock received almost immediate attention, the door opening to reveal an actual butler. I was speechless for a moment, as I didn’t realize people even still had butlers. He looked down at me, his lips pursed and his left brow raised. “Yes?”
“I’m Willa Chance. I’d like to pay my respects to the Hamiltons. My grandmother was a close friend of Adelaide.”
“Certainly.” He opened the door to let me in, his nose wrinkling as if I were a vagrant come to beg for dinner. “They’re in the drawing room.”
The house was lavishly furnished. Expensive antiques. Rich mahogany walls. Black-and-white marble floor. Stained glass. It smelled of lemon Pledge and old money. Tasteful arrangements of fresh flowers colored the room, and I wondered if they were from Adelaide’s service or part of the usual household decor.
My sneakers made squeaky sounds on the marble as I followed the butler down the hall. Voices drifted from a room at the end of the hallway.
“…will...you have no...” A mature woman’s voice. Josie or Lisa?
“No fair...of us...”
“...no arguing...” This was a man, probably the son, David.
“...sure I get my due—” Lisa bit off the end of the sentence, noticing the butler and me in the doorway. Her face creased in an angry frown as she looked me up and down in obvious disapproval. Should I have dressed up? I’d worn sneakers, jeans, and a T-shirt. The Hamiltons, who were all now staring at me, weren’t dressed any more formally, except their T-shirts and jeans had fancy designer labels.
“Ms. Willa Chance.” The butler announced me then disappeared into the woodwork, leaving me alone in the doorway.
“Hi.” I plastered on a smile, extending my hand toward David and marching into the room. “My grandmother, Anna Chance, was good friends with Adelaide. I just wanted to pay my respects. I didn’t have a chance to talk to any of you at the services yesterday.”
As I shook David’s limp, sweaty hand, my eyes strayed around the room, looking for errant recipe books that might be lying around.
“I’m her son, David. This is my wife, Lisa, and my sister, Josie.” He gestured to the two women.
I shook hands with them, only half paying attention to them as I scoped out the room for the book. To my disappointment, there was not one bookcase in sight. The furniture was a mix of modern and Victorian. Comfortable and stuffy. High-backed chairs with light-blue velvet upholstery and carved mahogany trim kept company with a comfortable-looking sofa in off-white linen. Embroidered pillows matching the light blue of the chairs were scattered on the sofa. A glass-and-mahogany coffee table sat in front of it, a box of tissues stationed in the middle. Underfoot, a navy-blue-and-gold Oriental rug set atop oak flooring anchored the room. The rug was large enough to reach almost to the walls, which were done in what looked like a pale-blue satin wallpaper.
David shuffled his feet as we murmured greetings, then said, “Well, thanks for stopping by. I really have to get going. I’ll leave you ladies to it.”
We watched him disappear, then I turned to Lisa and Josie. “I’m so sorry about your loss, really. It must have been a shock.”
Josie stared at me, glassy eyed. She opened her mouth but then snapped it shut.
“Yes, I suppo
se it was,” Lisa said matter-of-factly. “She went to bed that night and never woke up.”
“Oh, so one of you found her?” I asked.
Lisa smirked. “Not me. Marion did, I think.”
“Yes, it’s always hard, even when someone is sick and the death is expected.” I leaned back to glance out the doorway into the hall. Had I seen a kitchen at the end of the hall? Is that where Adelaide would keep her recipe books? How could I get into it? Why couldn’t Adelaide spring up now and give me some direction?
“Yes, it is. But Mom had a good long life,” Josie said.
“I know. My grandma mentioned her often. They used to do a lot of baking together, I think. Did Adelaide still bake?” I asked casually.
“What?” Josie looked at me funny.
Lisa studied her crimson nails. “No. We have a cook for that.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Gram said she had some special recipes. I bet she used to make them when you were young.” I directed my words at Josie.
“Recipes?” Josie’s eyes misted. “Now that you mention it, I do remember my mom used to bake cookies when I was younger.”
“Gram said they shared recipe books with their friend Betty … If you knew where that book is, I’d be really interested in seeing it—”
Squeaky wheels interrupted our conversation, and I turned to see Marion rolling into the room.
“Interested in what?” Marion demanded, her wrinkled face appraising me sharply.
Lisa waved a hand in the air. “Some recipe book her grandmother and some lady named Betty had. Who knows where that would be now.”
“Your grandmother?” Marion scowled at me.
“Yes. Anna Chance,” I said.
“Oh right … yes. You have her hair.” Marion chuckled then muttered something under her breath that sounded like “poor thing.” “Who is Betty?”
“I don’t know. I guess Adelaide knew her...”
Marion’s brows dipped. “Betty? No. Do you know a Betty, Josie?”
“No.”
“There’s no Betty that I know of.” Marion wheeled her chair around to face me. I noticed she was pretty good with it, easily avoiding smacking into the furniture. “You say you came for some recipes? Adelaide used to make a mean mince pie. I can get Cook to write out the recipe if you want. We don’t have any old recipe books. Cook uses that confounded Internet.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” I tried to hide my disappointment. It didn’t sound as if Betty’s recipe book would be in the kitchen, but that wasn’t the only place a person could hide a book in this mansion. If only I could figure out how to search the rest of the house.
“Well, it was nice of you to come by, then.” Marion cast a glance at the door, and I got the hint.
I rose to leave. “If I can do anything for you …”
“We’ll get along just fine on our own. Always have,” Marion said.
I wanted to ask about Daisy, but Marion’s presence seemed to have shut down any talking on the part of Lisa and Josie, and by the way Marion had just dismissed me, I didn’t want to push my luck. Not only that, but I was hoping to exit the room before someone offered to escort me out so I could take a quick look around the rest of the house. I could pretend I got lost looking for the bathroom if anyone questioned me.
Josie made a halfhearted attempt to get out of her chair, but I waved her off. “I can find my own way out.” To my relief, she sank back down. I nodded to Lisa and Marion then scooted out into the hall.
As I tiptoed away from the room, I could hear Marion’s voice. “Well, are you girls going to sit in here and do nothing all day? I suppose you’re already spending your inheritance …”
Instead of taking a right toward the front door, I turned left toward where I thought the kitchen was. Even though Marion said there were no recipe books, I wanted to peek in there for myself. But before I got more than a few steps down the hall, I heard something behind me.
Evie and Julie were coming down the stairs just as someone knocked on the front door. Julie skipped down the last three steps, pulling the door open to reveal a tall, good-looking man about the same age as the girls. I remembered him from Adelaide’s service. He’d been hanging close to Julie. By the way he was looking at her, it appeared he was her boyfriend.
“Brian!” Julie gushed. From my vantage point, I could see the side of her face, the smile rounding her flushed cheekbones as she reached out and pulled Brian inside. Evie’s face, on the other hand, darkened at the sight of her sister’s boyfriend. Her brows slashed together. Clearly she did not like the young man. I couldn’t say I blamed her. He gave me the impression of one of those charmers that had ulterior motives underneath. Probably after the Hamilton money, though Julie was quite attractive and seemed like a nice girl.
Evie started to turn in my direction, and my instincts kicked in. If she saw me, I’d surely have to leave. I quickly ducked into the nearest room, flattened myself against the wall, and held my breath.
“Did you see someone down there?” Evie’s voice drifted down the hall.
“What?” This was from Julie. “No one is down there. Let’s go walk the gardens.”
Their voices faded away. I released my breath and looked around. The room was dark and filled with bookcases on three walls. A library! A shaft of sunlight spilled through thin windows on the far wall, highlighting tiny specks of dust that hung suspended in the air. The air carried that old, papery scent of vanilla and mildew. The silence was heavy, the volumes of reading material acting like insulation soaking up any of the noises beyond the room.
I could tell the room wasn’t often used. The books sat patiently on the shelves as if waiting for someone to read them. A pair of wingback chairs were angled next to each other in front of a low oak table. On the other side of the table, a long tufted-back sofa in a green velvet upholstery begged for a reader to curl up on its worn cushions. There was a reading nook in one corner of the room. Inset into the wall, it provided a secluded place to escape into a book, complete with a burgundy velvet drape covering the opening and a comfortable-looking U-shaped cushioned seat with plump pillows. The sections of wall that weren’t covered with bookshelves boasted rich brown mahogany panels, each with an ornate gilt-framed painting. They were some of the ugliest paintings I’d ever seen, including one of an early-twentieth-century gentleman surrounded by poodles and another of a lady in a long white gown standing in a field of white flowers—a daisy patch.
Maybe Adelaide had been talking about daisy flowers, not a person named Daisy.
I rushed over to the painting. The yellow-centered flowers with white petals were definitely daisies. Maybe the book was nearby. I ran my finger over the spines of the books that lined the shelves underneath the painting. Dust puffed up and floated in the air. The leather on the spines was dark with age, but the titles stamped in gold could easily be read. Poetry books. Old novels. But no recipe books.
“What are you doing snooping around in here?” I whirled around to see Marion had snuck up behind me. I’d been so intent on looking for the recipe book that I hadn’t heard her wheels squeaking.
“Sorry. I was looking for the bathroom …”
“There’s no bathroom in here. I thought you were leaving.”
The butler appeared in the doorway, and Marion swung the chair around to face him. “John. Our guest can’t seem to find the front door. Can you show her out?”
“Of course.” John stepped aside in an obvious gesture for me to proceed out into the hall. I reluctantly left my spot under the picture. As I stepped out into the hall, I glanced back at the books under the picture just in case I suddenly spotted the recipe book. But it wasn’t a book that caught my eye. It was something outside the window next to the bookcase. The window gave a picturesque view of the grounds behind the mansion. In the distance I could see a quaint stone cottage—servants’ quarters, I guessed. But that wasn’t what interested me the most. The cottage was sitting smack-dab in the middle of a field o
f daisies.
My heart skittered with excitement as I continued down the hall, John following one step behind me the entire way as if to make sure I actually left this time. He opened the door for me, and I got the feeling he wanted to push me through it but was too polite to actually do so. I stepped outside, and he promptly shut the door.
As I walked to my car, I craned my neck to try to see behind the house. It was too big, though. I couldn’t see the field. But now I knew it was back there. Too bad I had no idea how to actually get to it. A stone path meandered around the side of the house through the gardens. Was that the only access, or was there a road that connected to the cottage from the other side?
I doubted Adelaide had buried the recipe book in a field. If she had, it would be ruined by now, but maybe she’d hidden it in the stone house. There was only one way to find out. I had to get to that field and the house beyond it, but how could I possibly do that without raising the suspicions of the Hamiltons?
8
Pandora sulked in the bookstore window. She hated it when Willa refused to include her in her outings. Even more than that, she didn’t appreciate Willa’s assumptions that Pandora might screw things up or run off. She should know by now that Pandora could take care of herself and knew how to conduct herself at someone else’s house.
Looking around the bookstore, she wondered what she could do to express her displeasure. Maybe a hairball in the cookbook aisle? Or she could run the toilet paper off the roll in the bathroom. That was always fun, but she’d done it so many times now Willa didn’t seem as shocked anymore when she came in and discovered a river of toilet paper throughout the store.
Maybe it was best if she didn’t do anything. That would keep Willa on her toes. And it might earn her some brownie points. Maybe even get her a taste of Willa’s tuna fish sandwich if she were to have one for lunch. Or possibly even some catnip.
Yes, doing nothing was probably the best course of action. Pandora stretched then repositioned herself in her cat bed so that the sun was warming her back.
Probable Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) Page 4