Murder, My Suite

by Mary Daheim

  “Was there any sign of a break-in?” Judith asked, deciding to put the prescription bottle of sleeping pills out of immediate reach on the teak bureau.

  “Not that I know of,” Dagmar replied. “The Kreagers didn’t mention it.”

  Something about the Kreagers’ twin condos tripped through Judith’s brain, but disappeared before she could focus on the stray thought. Instead she recalled seeing the metal box when the cousins had called on Dagmar the previous afternoon. Then Rhys Penreddy had arrived. The strongbox must have been taken after he and Devin O’Connor left. By coincidence, Judith heard a car pull up outside. Peeking through the shoji screen, she saw Penreddy and O’Connor walking toward the wrought-iron gate.

  Judith had a final question for Dagmar, who was already showing signs of drowsiness. “Did Mia or Nat come by in the afternoon?”

  Dagmar’s eyes were fuzzy. “I’m not sure…I was resting much of the time. At some point, Nat came looking for…Mia…or so I heard…” Her voice trailed away as her chin dropped onto her breast. Rover tugged at the down comforter.

  Renie was watching Judith watch Dagmar. “Now what?” Renie whispered. “Can we leave?”

  Rover munched on an extra pillow. Dagmar twitched slightly under the comforter. Judith frowned. “I guess so. The rest of them are right next door if—and when—Dagmar wakes up.”

  Renie, who hadn’t bothered to bring in an extra chair, started for the bedroom door. Judith stood up, but hesitated as Dagmar twitched again, this time more strenuously. Jostled, Rover barked. Dagmar’s motions became more jerky, bordering on convulsions.

  “I don’t like this,” Judith declared. “Something’s wrong here. She’s supposed to be sleeping deeply.”

  Renie came back to the futon. Observing Dagmar’s body shiver and shake, she, too, expressed alarm. “Do you suppose she has fits? Should we tell the Kreagers to call the doctor? Maybe Freddy knows what’s going on.”

  Dagmar’s eyes flew open. She tried to speak, but gasped for breath, then fell back against the pillows, still convulsing.

  “Get Karl,” Judith ordered. “I’ll call 911.” She grabbed the bedside phone as Renie hurried out of the condo.

  For the next five minutes Judith tried to settle Dagmar down, but failed. The older woman threatened to throw up at least twice. Her breathing was so labored that it was hard to understand her words. Sensing that something was very wrong with his mistress, Rover jumped off the futon and ran to a corner where he sat with his tongue out, panting. He looked not unlike Dagmar.

  Frantic, Judith held the older woman by the shoulders. Perhaps it was epilepsy. Judith wondered if she could prevent Dagmar from swallowing her tongue.

  To Judith’s immense relief, Renie returned with not only Karl Kreager, but Rhys Penreddy. “Oh!” Judith cried, staring at the police chief but still hanging onto Dagmar. “I forgot you were here! I called for an ambulance.”

  Penreddy took over. Judith backed off, standing near the door with Renie and Karl. Devin O’Connor was in the hall with Tessa and Freddy, apparently waiting to let in the ambulance attendants and medics.

  Resenting a virtual stranger’s attentions to his mistress, Rover ran forward and tried to take a bite out of Penreddy’s leg. Judith made a dive for the animal, picked him up, and carted him down the hall.

  “Here,” she said to Freddy. “Take this mutt and keep him out of the way.” She sneezed twice as she shoved Rover at a reluctant Freddy.

  The next few minutes were a blur. The medical team arrived, clearing everyone but Rhys Penreddy out of the bedroom. Devin O’Connor retired to the living room with the cousins, the Kreagers, Freddy, and the dog.

  Judith had positioned herself by a window. The gurney carrying Dagmar was moved quickly to the waiting ambulance. Rover strained in Freddy’s grasp. Tessa and Karl stared at each other in shock.

  “Is she…?” Tessa had gone pale.

  On his way out the door, Rhys Penreddy paused. “She’s alive,” he said grimly. “But we may not be able to save her. Stand by.” He nodded once to Devin O’Connor, who stayed on duty with the others.

  “The manuscript!” Tessa shrieked as the door closed behind Penreddy, the emergency personnel, and Dagmar. “Karl, Dagmar’s up against deadline!”

  Karl Kreager put an arm around his wife. He was looking uncharacteristically grim. “She’s up against much more than that,” he asserted, his blue eyes on Devin O’Connor. “Well? What is it?”

  Devin visibly gulped. “I can’t say, sir. Not until we know for sure.”

  Releasing Tessa, Karl took a few steps toward Devin. The two men were close in height, but the older man outweighed the younger by at least thirty pounds. Karl’s manner was intimidating.

  “Throw out the rules for now,” he commanded, with the authority of power and money evident in his voice. “This situation doesn’t affect just the handful of us here in Bugler. We’re talking about millions of people and millions of dollars. What’s going on with Dagmar Chatsworth?”

  It would have taken a policeman of much more experience and far more nerve not to be cowed. Devin O’Connor was young, unsophisticated, and naturally given to candor. He licked his dry lips, then met Karl’s frosty stare.

  “I’m only guessing, sir,” Devin said quietly. “Don’t quote me, please. But it looks as if Ms. Chatsworth has been poisoned.”

  FIFTEEN

  FREDDY AND TESSA finally agreed upon something: They both needed a drink. They would adjourn to the next-door condo. Karl, who was still looking dazed, went with them. To Renie’s surprise, Judith volunteered to keep Rover under control.

  “He’ll give you an allergy attack,” Renie pointed out.

  Judith avoided her cousin’s gaze. Most of all, she avoided Devin O’Connor, who was uneasily pacing the tatami mats. “I’ll put Rover back in Dagmar’s bedroom,” Judith said, moving quickly down the hall.

  She had gotten as far as the door when Devin called after her to stop immediately. “That’s a crime scene, ma’am! You can’t go in there!”

  “But Rover…” Judith protested, inching over the threshold.

  Devin was hurrying down the hall on his long legs. “I’ll take the dog,” he said.

  Thwarted, Judith tried to hand Rover over to the young policeman. But Rover wanted to stay with Judith. The dog yipped, cringed, and went rigid. Devin tried to pry him loose, but Rover snarled. Judith stifled another sneeze. Again Devin tried to get a firm grip on the dog. Rover snapped at the young man’s fingers.

  “Okay, okay.” Devin sighed. “Just put him down and come right out. I’ll stand here and wait.”

  Rover was perfectly content to snuggle on the comforter. Judith finally sneezed, reaching for a box of tissues on the bureau. In her haste, she knocked over the bottle of sleeping capsules.

  “Sorry,” she said in an abashed tone. “I honestly didn’t mean to do that.”

  Devin was growing angry. He loped into the bedroom, started to retrieve the bottle, then got a handkerchief from his pocket, grasped the medication, and straightened up again.

  “Was Ms. Chatsworth taking this stuff?” he asked.

  Judith nodded. “I gave her one of those and a couple of 222s about half an hour ago,” she said, mortified at the fact. “Frankly, I feel terrible about it. They’re capsules, and if Dagmar was poisoned, the stuff could be inside.” Nervously, Judith gestured at the bottle that Devin still held in the cradle of his handkerchief.

  “Would it work that fast?” he asked, more of himself than of Judith.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It depends on the poison. Dagmar took at least one of the capsules last night, too. The reaction may be a cumulative effect.”

  Suspicion filled Devin’s eyes as he watched Judith. “You know a lot about poison.”

  “Of course I do,” she responded impatiently. “I’ve had guests drop dead under my dinner table.”

  Obviously, Devin thought Judith was joking. She wasn’t, but there was no need to enlighten
the policeman further. Judith exited the bedroom.

  She reentered the living room just as Rhys Penreddy returned with two other officers, one male, one female. He swiftly explained that there was nothing more he could do at the medical clinic. Dagmar was being treated, though it was possible that she would be airlifted into Port Royal.

  After asking the cousins to remain where they were, Penreddy and his crew went into the bedroom. Judith and Renie sat down on a bamboo couch covered in a deep-blue-and-white-striped fabric. Judith blew her nose while Renie toyed with her unmanageable coiffure.

  “You must have been wrong,” Renie remarked in a low voice. “No offense, coz, but it looks as if Dagmar was the intended victim all along.”

  The same thought had already crossed Judith’s mind. “I hate being wrong,” she said with fervor. “About murder, anyway. Now I’m really at sea. What’s worse, I feel like a criminal for giving Dagmar those damned pills.” A light suddenly shone in her dark eyes. “Unless…”

  Rhys Penreddy reappeared, with Devin O’Connor at his side. “You’re going to have to answer some questions, I’m afraid,” Penreddy said, signaling for Devin to take notes. “Let’s start with why Ms. Chatsworth wanted to go to sleep in the middle of the morning.”

  Judith explained about the missing metal box and the discovery that Nat Linski’s file was gone. Penreddy already knew as much, having just called on the Kreagers.

  “That was it,” Judith said. “Dagmar sort of fell apart, and I offered to take her over here, to her own bed. She was in a state of nervous collapse and complained of a terrible headache. I asked if she wanted some medication. She did. I gave it to her.” Judith sighed and shook her head. “It never occurred to me that someone might have tampered with the capsules. I was so sure that Dagmar wasn’t meant to be killed in the first place.”

  Penreddy bridled. “Pardon me? Why do you say such a thing?”

  Judith felt Renie’s elbow nudging her in the ribs. “Oh—it was just an idea. It seems to me that when someone is killed in such a daring way, there can’t be any mistake about the victim. After all, the killer must have gotten up very close. How could anyone mistake Agnes for Dagmar, turban not-withstanding?”

  Squinting at Judith, Penreddy chewed on his lower lip. “You do have a perverse penchant for getting involved in criminal investigations, don’t you, Ms. Flynn? Why can’t you take up another sport, like mountain biking?”

  “It’s too dangerous,” she blurted, then felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I told you, I’m married to a homicide detective.”

  Penreddy moved around the living room, gazing at the hanging scrolls, the flower arrangements, the portrait of an ancient Oriental scholar. Devin O’Connor remained at attention, his ballpoint pen poised over his notebook.

  “You can’t leave Bugler,” Penreddy finally said in a flat tone. “Neither of you. I’m sorry, but you knew both the deceased and the intended victim before they entered Canada. You were up on Liaison Ledge when Agnes Shay was murdered. You were here in this condo handing out sleeping capsules when Dagmar Chatsworth was allegedly poisoned. If I could think of a motive, I’d charge both of you on the spot.”

  “Both of us?” Renie exclaimed. “What did I do?”

  Exasperated, Judith turned to her cousin. “You’re guilty of having a bad hairdo. You ought to be locked up for ten years. That way, I wouldn’t have to look at it.”

  Rhys Penreddy didn’t see any humor in the exchange between the cousins. “This isn’t a joke,” he said grimly. “You two are under suspicion as much as the others. I rode in the ambulance to see if Ms. Chatsworth would say anything that might reveal who was trying to kill her.” Rhys Penreddy’s brown eyes had lost all warmth. “She couldn’t say much in the shape she was in, but I managed to catch something about her dog being poisoned at your bed-and-breakfast.”

  Judith’s jaw dropped. “It wasn’t poison! It was gin!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear! It was a…prank.”

  “Some prank,” scoffed Penreddy. “Do you always play tricks on your guests?”

  “Of course not,” Judith responded heatedly. “I didn’t do it. It was my mother. She was annoyed because Rover had attacked our cat. I had to take the poor little fellow to the vet. Dagmar blamed Sweetums. My mother got upset, because, for once, it wasn’t his fault.”

  Penreddy snorted. “So you—or this alleged mother of yours—took revenge by trying to put out Rover’s lights.” He paused, glancing at Devin O’Connor, who began to take hasty notes. “Rover recovered, so you went after his owner. That must be some pedigreed pussycat you’ve got back home, Ms. Flynn.”

  A vision of Sweetums at his most baleful passed before Judith’s mind’s eye. “Scruffy,” “ornery,” and “mean” were the adjectives that danced in Judith’s brain. “He’s not a champion cat,” she admitted. “But he’s much loved all the same.” She almost choked on the declaration.

  Penreddy gave a faint nod, which seemed to dismiss Sweetums. “The point is, you acknowledge that somebody under your roof slipped Rover a Mickey. That leads us to think you might have done the same thing to his owner.”

  “Well, I didn’t. And Mother isn’t under my roof. We keep her in the toolshed.” Judith’s manner was haughty. “In fact, I feel terrible about giving Dagmar the medication. But she asked for it.” Seeing that Devin was scribbling as fast as possible, Judith turned to the young man. “Forget that last sentence. It sounds bad.”

  It was Renie’s turn to make a disclaimer. “Hey, forget the pampered pets, too. They’re a side issue. What about Nat Linski? His file is missing. And that old rummy, Esme MacPherson—how come the box turned up in his hooch hutch? Unless Freddy Whoa put it there. Have you checked into Tessa Van Heusen Kreager’s background with the Spotted Leopards? Is Freddy really Dagmar’s nephew or just a gigolo? Come off it, Chief. My cousin hadn’t met any of these people until they barged into her B&B last week. I never met them until I got to Bugler.”

  Penreddy’s face clouded. “Now, see here—”

  Judith interrupted. “My cousin’s right. There’s much more going on here than meets the eye. What other celebrities are staying in Bugler who might balk at some hot item Dagmar is preparing to write about them? What about Ice Dreams and the Kreager connection? When did Kirk Kreager arrive in Bugler?”

  “That’s easy enough,” Penreddy replied, obviously taken aback by the barrage of questions put to him by the cousins. “Kirk Kreager arrived in Bugler by helicopter yesterday afternoon. We’ve already checked his alibi for Monday. He was at work in the corporate offices of the Kreager newspaper chain until after six o’clock, and in the evening he attended a dinner party at some place called Lake of the Isles. He got home around eleven, according to his chauffeur, who is still in Minneapolis.”

  “Scratch Kirk,” Judith murmured. “What about the other celebrities in town?”

  Penreddy squared his shoulders. “We’re asking the questions here, eh?” His severe expression brooked no further argument. “I’m requesting that both of you be fingerprinted. Now.”

  “Oh, good grief!” Renie reeled around the room, almost toppling a potted bonsai pine tree. “This is stupid!”

  Judith, however, didn’t agree. “No, coz, it’s not. It’s procedure. Let the police do their job.”

  Apparently the male and female officers had finished their task in the bedroom. Moments later, they had fingerprinted the cousins, though their on-site work wasn’t done.

  “You’re free to leave,” Penreddy said solemnly. “But don’t go outside the village. If Ms. Chatsworth doesn’t pull through, we’ll want another formal statement.”

  Renie grumbled all the way back to their condo. She had worked herself into a veritable tizzy by the time Judith reached for the coffeemaker. It was unplugged and almost empty.

  “Who needs it? It’s lunchtime, anyway,” Renie snarled. “Not that I feel like eating.”

  “You? Not eating?” Judith smiled a
nd sat down at the dining room table, which Renie had obviously cleared earlier. “Relax. Penreddy really doesn’t suspect you. And while I was irked when he suggested I might have poisoned Dagmar because of that silly incident with Rover, I know he’s got a job to do.”

  Renie calmed down sufficiently to take notice of Judith’s smug expression. “I get it,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “You figure that if you’re an actual suspect, you’ll get to hear more of what’s going on from an official point of view.”

  “That’s right.” Judith nodded complacently. “I already have some idea of what the police know—and what they don’t know. Or didn’t, until we mentioned it just now.”

  “Such as?” Renie inquired.

  “Ice Dreams, for one thing. They would have to get lucky like we did, or do some checking to figure out that the Kreagers own the show. If Dagmar wanted to publish something damaging about Mia or Nat, that gives Karl—and maybe Tessa—a motive.”

  Renie was looking puzzled. “I know you said that earlier, but why couldn’t the Kreagers simply squelch the item? Kirk could stop it in the newspapers, and Karl and Tessa could prevent it from coming out in Dagmar’s next book.”

  “Would you like to try to stop Dagmar from printing gossip?” Judith paused, but didn’t wait for Renie’s response. “Dagmar’s got enormous clout. I’d guess that if she got hassled over her columns—or books—she’d threaten lawsuits galore and find herself another publisher. You can bet she’s been sitting on that Spotted Leopard story for years. The Kreagers wouldn’t want that to come out in a rival newspaper chain’s columns.”

  “Journalistic blackmail,” mused Renie. “I suppose Dagmar has a ton of juicy items she’s kept under wraps.”

  “That’s right. Almost.” Judith gave Renie an inquisitive look. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Huh?” It appeared as if Renie weren’t thinking at all. “About what?”