Vicky suppressed a chuckle. Instead of avoiding the Little League invasion, Marge would still have to make all the pancakes and on top of that she’d be sponging mud off fenders, all the while muttering, It should have been Lady Agatha!
“I only have a few minutes to chat really,” Bella said. “Paul called me to harp about my promotional schedule.”
She grimaced. “He wants to squeeze in even more book signings and meetings with the press. I told him to discuss it with Lisa, because that’s what she is for, but he says she is such a klutz he can’t make any sense of her replies.”
Oh, had he also told Bella he had kissed that ‘klutz’ passionately and she had responded like a born seductress? Probably not.
If the woman with Paul DuBree in the conservatory had indeed been Lisa Coombs, the two of them were keeping their affair a deep secret.
Vicky opened her mouth to probe discreetly to discover what Bella knew or suspected about this, but Marge quickly said, “We’d appreciate a few minutes of your time. Inside.”
Bella seemed surprised by her serious tone, then she waved them along, up the narrow stairs, into her apartment.
The first thing Vicky noticed was the fan on the table. It was folded, so she couldn’t see whether a piece of it was missing. Her throat went tight. What if Bella was involved in that man’s death? Her guest author a killer?
Bella sat down and looked at them. “What is it?”
“It’s about last night,” Marge began. She had sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
Vicky rarely saw her friend at a loss for words, but Marge obviously found this confrontation extremely hard to handle.
“I happened to talk to Lilian this morning,” Vicky said, taking the lead. “And she told me she had found a piece of your fan in the conservatory. She was worried because it looked torn off, by force. She wanted to know if somebody had uh…accosted you at the party last night.”
It was a stretch of the truth but they could hardly throw the murder in Bella’s face.
Bella stared at her. Fiery circles appeared on her cheeks. She seemed to force a nervous laugh. “No, uh, why would anybody have accosted me? I’m perfectly good friends with everybody here.”
Vicky pressed, “Did you go back into the conservatory after we were there with Lilian to look at the plants? Did you go back on your own?”
Bella shook her head. But something about her expression suggested to Vicky that she was lying. Her heart rate shot up.
“Your fan,” Marge said, pointing at it on the table. “May I have a look at it? It’s so special.”
Bella seemed surprised by the sudden request, but nodded. “Sure. Just handle it carefully. It’s a special souvenir.”
Marge unfolded the fan bit by bit. When she came to the last section, Vicky’s heart sank.
Bella gasped. “It’s damaged! How did that happen?”
She pulled it from Marge’s hand and ran her finger along the torn edge, with a regretful look on her face. “It’s an old and precious reminder of a trip I made…” Her voice died down.
“Do you have any idea how or when the fan got damaged?” Marge asked, leaning forward eagerly, her elbows on her knees.
“No. I only noticed it now.”
Vicky asked, “Was it ever out of your possession? Did you put it on a table or someplace where someone else might have gotten to it?”
“No.” Bella sat up straight. “What is with all these questions? You look at me like I did something wrong.” She flushed deep again.
“Nobody came over and started an argument,” Vicky pressed, “a discussion about something unpleasant?”
“Did a man approach you about some past event?” Marge added. “A man who claimed to know you from earlier on?”
Bella’s brows shot up. “I know nobody around these parts. How could any man claim to know me from earlier on?” She got up and picked up her tablet computer from the sideboard. “Can I go see Paul now? I appreciate your concern for me, but I’m fine.”
“Bella…” Marge had gotten up as well and faced her. “The man who claimed to know you was found dead this morning.”
Vicky cringed. She hadn’t expected Marge to tell it quite like that.
Bella’s eyes widened. “Dead?” she echoed.
Marge nodded. “Of course we know you have nothing to do with it, but because the victim claimed to have known you, the police will want to ask you questions about that.”
Bella had turned ashen. “Victim? So it wasn’t a natural death either.”
She sank onto the sofa again, pushing her free hand to her heart. “How terrible for the victim. But I didn’t know anyone there. If he said so, he must have been lying.”
Her eyes roved through the room as if she sought some hold. “It makes no sense at all. Why would some earlier meeting mean so much to me I’d be willing to kill for it? I’m not known to have a violent temper…”
She laughed nervously. “At least I hope not. How was he killed anyway? Not with a gun or knife, I suppose. I had no way of carrying that with me. You all saw how tight my dress was and my clutch bag was too small to contain any useful weapon.”
Her brows drew together in concentration. “The killing must have happened in the conservatory, or you would not have asked if I had gone back there. It must have happened with a weapon chosen on the spot. Let me guess. That soft pink marble pedestal on the small table.”
Vicky’s heart missed a beat. Her knees went weak, and she looked around for something to support herself on.
Bella laughed at her shock. “My dear, I’m a cozy author. I always look around me for ideas. I saw it when our hostess showed us around and figured it would make an excellent murder weapon. Solid, heavy, but still easy to pick up and smash down.” She mimed the gesture. “I had planned on using it in one of my upcoming books. Where the tour goes past award-winning gardens and arboretums. I wanted the motive to have to do with cultivating rare orchids. There is a lot of money involved in orchids, you know.”
Vicky exhaled. Her heartbeat still skittered, and Bella’s light tone rubbed her raw nerves the wrong way. “Bella, you have to be careful not to say things like this to the police. Instead of assuming you’re speculating, or arguing like a writer, Cash might take it to reflect knowledge only the killer can have. He will charge you with murder.”
“Based on that?” Bella laughed derisively. “That would be very bad policeman-ship indeed.”
Marge said, “We need other suspects. Fast. The dead man might have taken pictures of people. Incriminating pictures. Is Paul DuBree married?”
“Oh, no. He never commits to anyone. I think the mention of forever would have him break out in a cold sweat. He has some girlfriends, on and off. The blonde with him at the party last night is his latest conquest. A starlet he is doing some PR for.”
Marge pressed, “Would she kill for the relationship? To protect the image people have of DuBree and her? Or could DuBree himself have killed the man?”
“He would be strong enough for it,” Vicky mused.
Bella thought for a few moments, then shook her head. “I can’t see Paul resorting to violence. He is used to handling damage control via his loyal followers or the legal department of his firm. What could have had him so worked up he felt he had to silence an unknown man?”
Vicky sensed that Bella was trying to provoke them into revealing who the dead man had been, so she said hurriedly, “Look, why don’t you run along to your meeting with Paul first? Don’t say a word about the find of the dead body. But try and find out if he liked the party, what time he left et cetera. Anything that can help us.”
“Paul is clever,” Bella said, getting up. “If he knows more about it, he won’t slip up and reveal something. But I’ll let you know if I do stumble onto anything particular.”
She walked to the stairs, Vicky and Marge in tow.
At the top of the steps Bella turned, her expression worried. “Do you think the sheriff honestly suspects me
of this murder? Do you think he will go on and arrest me?”
“That’s possible,” Vicky said. “We really don’t have a lot of other suspects to offer to him. He’ll let you do the book signing this afternoon, as a favor to me, and he might even wait until Monday with an actual arrest, but without viable suspects to make a case against, that’s the best I can do.”
Bella exhaled. “Great. I’ve never been arrested before. And during my book tour too. The newspapers will eat it up, and my publisher will be furious. Just what I don’t need.”
Chapter Seven
After Bella had left for her appointment with Paul DuBree, Vicky finished the gifts for the hen party with the flowers and herbs Ms. Tennings had brought her. She set out in Marge’s car to deliver the gifts to the hotel where the bride-to-be was staying.
She caught the bride-to-be and her mother at a late breakfast in an almost empty breakfast room and laid the gifts out for them to see. “This is lovely!” the bride-to-be exclaimed. “Even better than I imagined when we were emailing about it.”
She touched the ribbon that secured the see-through wrapping foil on the top. “You put so much time and attention into all of the little details.”
Vicky said it was only natural. She accepted their invitation to have a cup of tea with them, hearing all the details about the grand white wedding coming up in two weeks’ time. Her mind was really more on murder at the moment, but she forced herself to listen well and ask questions at the appropriate moments. The bride’s happiness radiated from her face, and Vicky concluded it had to be wonderful to look forward to your big day.
Her own expectations in that direction had faded over the years as work had taken all of her time and attention and her life had been full of other experiences. Now back home, seeing happy couples like Marge and Kevin or Diane and Alain, she did wonder what it would be like to share your life with someone who was always there for you.
On the other hand: having been single for so long it would take adjustments to share. She couldn’t quite imagine an army of kids invading her neat home because her husband had made a promise to a Little League trainer. It was quite comfortable to be able to determine everything by herself.
From the hotel she drove to the police station to talk to Cash and get any information he’d care to share. Especially about the people in the photographs the murdered guard had taken. Vicky hoped that someone or something in those pictures could offer them a motive for murder and a different suspect than Bella to focus on.
As Cash saw her come in, he came to the reception desk at once. “I was planning on calling you, but now that you are here…let’s step into my office, OK?”
The idea that he already had something to exonerate Bella lifted Vicky’s spirits.
Cash went ahead of her and closed the door, then gestured at one of the straight-backed chairs in front of his paper-strewn desk. “Sit down.” He himself remained standing, towering over her. “Did you get a chance to talk to your guest author and ask her about last night? Without revealing any pertinent information of course?”
Vicky took the time to arrange her handbag in her lap. “Sort of. We didn’t tell her who the dead man was exactly. We merely probed if she had been approached by someone, accosted or the like.”
“So she doesn’t know what the murdered guard told me, right?” Cash asked with threateningly drawn brows.
Vicky chose her words with care. “Well, you didn’t exactly tell us much. We did see that her fan was damaged. The piece found on the scene is definitely from her fan.”
“Aha!” Cash perked up. “And she had no explanation for that?”
“No, she claims not to have noticed any damage last night. But she acted a little…”
Vicky looked for a word that would convey the feeling, yet not sound too accusing “…furtive.”
“So she could be lying.” Cash sounded satisfied.
“I wouldn’t say lying, but…”
“Evading the truth. To my mind it comes down to much the same thing.”
“Maybe.” Vicky felt bad toward Bella. But she did want to be honest with Cash. She needed him to prevent escalation. “I had the impression she was ducking any straight answers as to how the fan got damaged. But there could be an innocent reason for that. I think she really never met the dead man. She seemed genuinely shocked that somebody had died at the party.”
Vicky swallowed and added, “You should be aware that we didn’t tell her where the death occurred or what weapon was used, but Bella guessed all that right away. She is a cozy author, you know, used to murder plots.”
Cash leaned back on his heels. “My point exactly. It makes her the ideal killer.”
“Look, Cash, if she planned a murder, she’d do better than this.”
Cash waved a hand. “Maybe. I only see it like this: her fan is damaged, she won’t tell us how or where, and a piece of it is recovered from beside the dead man. What do we have to assume? An argument, a bad blow. Dead body. And Bella Brookes in jail. It’s as easy as one plus one makes two.”
Vicky stared at Cash’s desk in front of her. Something colorful drew her attention. “Are those the photos?”
“Yes, I printed off everything that was on the camera’s memory card to take a closer look. Every single shot, even those that were blurry or overexposed.” Cash sat down in his swivel chair and gestured over the stacks in front of him. “I was just going over them to see if I noticed anything strange.”
Vicky got up at once. “I can help you.”
“No way.” Cash stopped her with a gesture. “I have deputies for that. You have no official status here.”
“Cash, I only want to help. If you arrest the wrong person, you’re just hurting someone innocent. And will look a fool when it comes out. If we could, on the other hand, establish another guilty party, and you arrest the right person right away…”
She let the rest hang.
Cash rolled his eyes. “So concerned for my reputation, are you?”
Then he leaned back in his chair and looked over the photographs with a sigh. “Well, maybe it can’t hurt. Women do see more in pictures than men do. Maybe something that is different from one shot to another? I can’t seem to find anything significant. Come on then.”
Vicky came to stand beside Cash, and he showed her the first stack of photographs.
Bella Brookes with Lilian.
Bella going up the stairs with Sydney Haverton.
Bella talking to some people.
In every picture she dominated with her dress, her hair, her big fan. She was the first person you noticed and only at a second look you saw there were more people around. Sometimes waiters caught in the moment, or other guests.
Vicky also saw herself once, partially, as well as Marge and her husband. Cash talking to Deke, with Bob Jones in the background. Paul DuBree with his blonde girlfriend. No Lisa Coombs in any picture.
Cash came to the last stack. “This is a bit odd,” he said. “But I think you should see them all.”
The last three pictures were not taken at the party. Two were taken outside the Country Gift Shop as Bella arrived. She got out of her fast car and waved at Vicky and Marge, who had just exited the store. The third was of a window that Vicky recognized at once. The window of the apartment over her store where Bella was staying.
Vicky’s mouth was dry. “So the victim was stalking Bella. He had already taken pictures of her before he came to the party to do his work. Maybe he even made sure he would work at that particular party. It was all a setup from the start. He knew Bella would be there and he planned on…spreading his accusations around?”
“Probably.” Cash dropped the pictures.
Vicky said, “It has to be the same guy I caught peering through the glass pane in the door. He called himself Giverny and said he worked for a newspaper called the Haven Herald. Michael already said to me he didn’t know a publication by that name. Did you find traces in his hotel room of him having shaven? A press card
in the Giverny name?”
Cash shook his head. “But we did find a fake mustache like you mentioned to me before, tucked away in a sock in his suitcase. You see my deputies went over everything with a fine-tooth comb.”
“So he was disguised at first.” Vicky’s palms went clammy. “He was after Bella for real.”
Cash nodded. “We can’t even be sure that he has not been doing this for a longer time. Maybe he kept calling her, following her around, threatening to expose her, and when he confronted her at the party and told her he was smearing her, even to the local police, it got too much for her and she grabbed something and hit him. I can understand the feeling behind it. Stalking is a terrible thing.”
Vicky wet her lips. She couldn’t deny that the man had been around town following Bella or at least keeping tabs on her whereabouts.
Cash said, “I sent the dead man’s fingerprints to be compared to files we have on all sorts of criminals. The Feds could have something on him or Interpol. Maybe he was a really sick man who did this kind of thing to women before. Maybe Bella can claim self-defense and get off with a suspended sentence?”
A knock on the door made him sit up. “Yeah?”
A deputy stuck his head round the door. “There seems to be a traffic jam forming in town, Sheriff. People parking in the ‘delivery only’ areas and so on.”
Cash groaned. “Must be the One-Mile Book Market causing some blockage. I’ll get on it.”
“Thanks for everything so far.” Vicky gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked out. “Keep me posted on anything you discover.”
Cash waved at her. “Will do.”
Chapter Eight
When Vicky tried to drive into town, she found out the deputy had not been kidding when he had informed Cash about traffic problems on Main Street.
The ‘delivery vans only’ spaces along Main Street were kept clear of book market stalls to ensure delivery to the stores and store owners could continue, but people had simply left cars there. Store owners had come outside to take stock of the situation and were placing calls on their cell phones.
The church parking lot was so full nobody could get in or out anymore, and several people stood arguing with one another.
Grand Prize: Murder! Page 7