Detective Rivers felt torn, learning all this from Edward. He hated to think of Brenda losing the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast, but he had to admit that it seemed like a very strong motivation. As he returned to his car, he knew he needed to talk with Brenda again. The more he thought about her, the more he wondered if she had made one very bad decision following that argument, and was now using her connection to him to cover her tracks. Her motives were stronger than anyone interviewed so far. Furthermore, she had the strength to do it. He had seen her lift furniture and other heavy objects when rearranging rooms in the bed and breakfast. He had visited one day to help with a small renovation project and had been surprised to see Brenda was so strong. She handled heavy armchairs as if they were light as a feather.
Chapter Seven
Prime Suspect
Mac drove to the bed and breakfast and asked Allie to get Brenda. When she came from the kitchen area, he suggested they sit out in the rose garden to continue their talk. Brenda didn’t miss his serious expression and thought she denoted a note of sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. She fingered the ring in her pocket as she followed him to the garden and they sat down at a bench under the rose arbor.
“I’ve talked with Edward Graham. He gave me details of the lawsuit Ellen’s lawyer prepared. I read part of it. Her lawyer stated that she has proof that Randolph promised her the property and she would provide that proof in court.”
Brenda raised her eyes to meet Mac’s with dread. “Was it dated before or after the date on the will?”
“Edward never got to see the proof. Ellen was to send a copy of it as soon as she got back.”
“How do we know my uncle actually gave it to her? It doesn’t make sense. I didn’t tell you this before, but I found one of my uncle’s letters in the attic, he told my father he wanted out of show business because of Ellen Teague and the way she treated him. He resented her because she hogged the spotlight and sabotaged him, and he didn’t get recognized for his talent even when he was a costar alongside her.”
“When did you find that letter?”
“I searched through his crates of belongings in the attic the other night when you took your daughter to the second performance of the play. It was after I found out from the actors that Randolph had been an actor and director. I was clueless that he had a theatre career and I wanted to find out more about him. That’s when I found the letter. It was unfinished. He wrote it to my father but never mailed it. In it, he said he couldn’t take Ellen Teague any longer. I don’t know exactly what that was about, but those were his words. Honestly, I think I know exactly how he felt, too...” Brenda turned to look at Mac as she trailed off, and was horrified to see the cloud of suspicion on his face grow darker.
“Brenda, you continue to prove to me your motives are strongest for wanting her dead. You were upset with her treatment of your uncle and at the same time you had everything to lose. Isn’t it true that once Ellen Teague was dead, you had no worries? You get to keep the bed and breakfast and you don’t have to face a fight in court. You are an amateur sleuth, and a very good one I might add. Just the kind of person who might know how to hide her tracks. And you are dating the head detective.” He finished bitterly, not looking at her.
Brenda jumped to her feet and glared at Mac. She stuffed her hand into her pocket for the ring and it sprang out, falling to the ground. The promise ring bounced on the brick walkway and made a sound like a sad little bell. She retrieved it and pressed it into his hand.
“I don’t know what this so-called promise ring meant to you, Mac Rivers, but obviously it meant nothing. If you truly loved me you would know I am not capable of murder. I’m a fighter and I would have gone to court over this and fought with everything I had to defend my uncle’s legacy. But I would never, ever commit murder. Not even to get what rightfully belongs to me in the first place.” Rage shot through her body. “You are wasting your time with me. Arrest me if you have more questions. I suggest you go interview the actors again if you want to find the real murderer.” Brenda whirled on her heel and left the rose garden.
As she walked away, he replied quietly to her retreating form, just loud enough for her to hear, “I can give you one day, Brenda. One day.”
She picked up her pace until she reached the back door of the bed and breakfast. Just inside, she saw Phyllis and chef Morgan turn from the window where they had been watching her wrathful entrance.
“What was that all about?” Phyllis asked.
Brenda shook her head violently and stalked down the hallway to the back stairs and continued up the stairs at a furious pace. Phyllis and Morgan turned to look at each other in consternation, then Phyllis followed her. At the top of the stairs she hesitated and then kept walking to catch up to Brenda. When Phyllis entered the farthest attic room, she found Brenda pulling stacks of papers from a large crate. Her eyes were rimmed with red but not a tear spilled on her cheeks.
“Brenda, you can trust me. Tell me what is going on.”
“Mac considers me his top suspect in the murder of Ellen Teague.” She bent back to the crate and yanked out another handful of papers and sorted through them quickly.
“How can he begin to think that?” Phyllis replied in shock.
“I don’t know, but he does.” Brenda interspersed her tale of the recent events with Mac in between sorting through the mess of papers arrayed around her. When she finished she barely suppressed the sobs that tried to bubble to the surface. She looked at the empty crates and sat back on her heels. “Help me go through all of this. Please, Phyllis. Look for anything that has Ellen Teague’s name on it. I don’t care if it is a ticket, a theatre bill, a letter, a legal document. Anything. There’s got to be something here that can help me.”
They dug in silence for a while. Brenda sputtered more words, still finding it hard to believe she found herself in this situation. “He has given me a day to solve this murder case and then he will issue a warrant for my arrest.”
This time Phyllis gasped. “He’s gone crazy. There are plenty of actors who arrived with Ellen who intensely disliked her. Any of them could have had a motive, but not you, Brenda. He should know better than that.” She hugged Brenda. “Maybe he’s just frustrated that he has no solid leads and is taking it out on you. I don’t mean to excuse him for his behavior but it may explain some things.”
“No one solves a murder case this complicated in two days,” Brenda said. “He knows that. After all, he is the detective and I’d like to see him solve cases that fast.”
Phyllis didn’t say it but she figured that in Mac’s mind, he had solved the case. Brenda felt rather than saw Phyllis stop what she was doing. She knew Phyllis’s eyes were glued to her.
“Why does Mac see you as the prime suspect?”
“Before her death, Ellen met with Edward Graham and told him she planned to file a lawsuit against me for ownership of the bed and breakfast. She claims that Randolph promised her this place. The draft of the lawsuit Edward received stated that she had proof in New York and planned to send it immediately to Edward once she arrived back home.”
“And that’s all Mac has to go on?” Phyllis narrowed her eyes as she pondered this. “It seems to me that Ellen would have brought that proof with her if she had it.”
Brenda flashed her housekeeper a grateful look. “I agree. But also – our guests heard me arguing with Ellen about her preposterous claims the night she was killed.”
“Well, I’m still baffled. He needs to get past his suspicions once and for all. We are all behind you, Brenda. You can count on Sweetfern Harbor. I’ll get Molly on it along with her friends. My daughter has a steady run of customers in Morning Sun Coffee every day. She also told me the actors often talk freely when they are there. Allie will help, and her mother will listen to her customers, too, in case she overhears something useful. Everyone goes in for goodies from Hope Williams’s bakery.”
Brenda began to feel better. Phyllis was right. Sweetfern Harbor was
a tight-knit family and Brenda could count on support as she raced against the clock. In the meantime, she would conduct her own line of questioning with her guests. She didn’t bother wasting time wondering why Mac hadn’t interviewed everyone a second time before fastening onto his suspicions that her motive was the strongest. The blood rushing through her changed from livid anger to determination. She thought about Jenny Rivers, who was Mac’s daughter, but also a close friend to many in the community. Brenda wondered if Jenny would take Brenda’s side or the side of her detective father.
It didn’t take long for word to spread among friends and Jenny called Brenda as soon as she heard, outraged at her father. “Don’t worry, Brenda, I will personally help you prove him wrong. I’ve always been good at getting people to talk without them realizing how much they are saying.” Brenda had to chuckle. Jenny did have a way of charming information from unsuspecting people while they perused the florist shop. She thanked Jenny and was relieved to feel that she had such strong support even from Mac’s daughter. Brenda quickly asked Jenny what she knew about any suspicious messages delivered with flower bouquets, but the florist said it must not have come from her shop. Perhaps it had been one of the many bouquets thrown onstage at the close of the performance, and so it was impossible to tell where it had come from.
Now that the town was on her side, she focused on her guests. She had two hours before they would leave for the park to perform one last time in Sweetfern Harbor with the Seaside Theatre Festival before it toured back to New York City. She gathered them all together and told them she wanted to speak with them again. Though it was unorthodox, she chose to have them all together. She wanted to observe their reactions to one another and to pick up any innuendo they might exchange between themselves.
“Where’s Chester?” she asked, as she realized the group was short one person.
“We thought you wanted to talk with the cast only,” Ricky said with surprise.
“He’s a cast member now,” Anna pointed out. “He’s going to play the country estate host so Bonnie can take Ellen’s part. I guess we forgot, we’re so used to him being an assistant to...” Anna didn’t seem to want to even say the late actress’s name.
Shawn went upstairs to find Chester. He came down alone, shrugging his shoulders at Brenda. “He is nowhere to be found. He must have taken a walk into town.”
Brenda thought perhaps it would be better to have a one-on-one with Chester, so she let it go for the moment. She told them she wanted to hear their accounts of the evening before, when everyone had returned to the bed and breakfast. She began with Bonnie, who eagerly repeated the same story she told Brenda and Mac. One by one Brenda asked the others, and they stuck to their stories.
“Did you and Anna go to sleep right around ten or so?” she asked Shawn.
“We were sound asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows,” he said. He smiled. “We woke up when we heard you yelling at Ellen.” Despite the actress’s death, he appeared to still see humor in the incident. “None of us ever got the last word with her like that,” said Shawn. That’s all it took for the rest of the group to smile, as well. Brenda was still shocked at their lack of sadness at Ellen Teague’s death, and she began to wonder if perhaps all of them had planned the murder together. They were actors, after all. Perhaps they were so good at acting they were hiding their true intentions. She could only hope that repeated questions would trip them up, if so.
After an hour of questions and verifying little details, Brenda was disappointed to discover nothing out of place with any of their stories. She wished them well on the last performance. “I hope you still have a good turnout tonight.”
“Oh, I think we’ll have a bigger crowd than ever,” said Ricky with a smirk. “The tabloids are all over Ellen’s death and there’s probably just as many gawkers as there are theatre fans with tickets tonight. I heard ticket scalpers are making a pretty penny down on Main Street.”
As the rest of the actors turned to leave to get ready for the performance, Brenda pulled Shawn and Anna aside briefly. “I won’t take long since I know you have to get ready. What can you tell me about Chester? How long did he work for Ellen?”
“I think he was with her for at least twenty years. I’m basing that on the plays he mentioned working on with her.” Anna looked at Shawn. “Do you think that’s about right?”
“Yes, at least twenty years.” When Brenda pressed him for details about Chester’s temperament, Shawn continued. “He’s a nice guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him get upset with anyone, not even Ellen. He seemed to take her in stride better than any of us. That’s probably how he stayed in that job for so long.” Anna nodded in agreement.
“Did you know that he was well acquainted with Randolph?” asked Anna. “He and Randolph knew one another quite well.” Brenda expressed surprise at this unknown detail, but realized she had already taken too much of their time, and thanked them for their cooperation. They turned to hurry upstairs, their hands together as they left her. She watched as they exchanged knowing glances and she wondered what else they weren’t sharing with her.
Brenda glanced at her watch. Perhaps Chester was avoiding further questions by going straight to Harbor Park from his walk into town. Brenda went back upstairs to the attic and unlocked the door. She pulled a Windsor chair from against the wall and brushed off the dust and cobwebs that covered it. Sitting down, she picked up a stack of papers she had left unsorted after her earlier attempt to find evidence with Phyllis’s help. Several folders held scripts for plays. When she opened one, Randolph’s lines were there in front of her, and she tried to imagine his resonant voice booming out from the stage. He had shared leading roles with Ellen Teague in most of them. From several playbills, she could see that he had also directed quite a few. She picked up the third folder and noticed a bundle of letters under it. The letter on top was written in a distinct, old-fashioned handwriting and addressed to Randolph Sheffield. The precise script seemed familiar to her but she could not place it.
Brenda examined the letter and found it was still sealed. Could humid conditions have caused its glue to reseal? She inspected it closely and determined there was no way this letter had been read. Carefully opening it, she scanned down for the signature. To her great surprise, she read Chester Boyd’s name signed under the phrase ‘Your great admirer and good friend.’
It was dated just a few months before her uncle’s death. She wondered why it hadn’t been opened. Brenda read the letter with growing curiosity.
Dear Randolph,
I can’t tell you how excited I am to be coming to Sheffield Bed and Breakfast with the Seaside Theatre Festival next year. I’ve waited a long time to see what you left the theatre for and now I’ll have my chance. Ellen has the cast lined up for “The Rich Game” and I know it will be a hit. Best of all, I will be playing a role in it for the first time. My dreams of acting are finally becoming reality. We aren’t getting any younger, Randolph, as we both know, and this has been my lifelong dream. This may well be my last chance. I realize working next to Ellen won’t hurt my chances either.
I am happy that Sweetfern Harbor will host the theatre festival. It will be just like old times! I can’t thank you enough for telling me to never give up on my dreams. I may not be as talented as you, but I am lucky to count myself as your friend. I must study my lines now and so will close off.
Your great admirer and good friend,
Chester
Brenda looked at the dates again. Remorse hit her that her uncle wasn’t there to see his friends perform in his beloved town of Sweetfern Harbor. But oddly enough, Chester was so sure he had a part in the play and yet he had arrived as Ellen’s assistant. What had happened in between this letter and their arrival?
There was one person who might be able to answer Brenda’s questions and that was William Pendleton. As a lifelong resident and a staunch promoter of the arts, he would no doubt know something about how her Uncle Randolph had helped play a par
t in bringing the theatre festival to town. She recalled how at ease he was with Ellen the night after the play when they shared champagne together in her suite.
Brenda searched for Phyllis and found her dusting in the sitting room. “Do you know if William plans to attend the final night of the play tonight?”
“He decided he didn’t want to go, out of respect for Ellen’s death. He is quite upset. He was a great admirer of hers.” Brenda asked if he was home. “He’s at home until this evening. We have plans to have a nice dinner out since the cast will be leaving.”
“I suppose Mac told them they could all leave right away?”
Phyllis glanced down at the duster in her hand. “We all know he is wrong about you, Brenda. Once he lets them all leave he will be sorry he did that. They will go on to the next city for their next play and he will have a hard time getting them all corralled again.”
But Brenda simply said, “I can be reached at the Pendleton home if needed.” She had no time to lose, and immediately left to drive to William’s house, her thoughts racing.
Chapter Eight
Switched Roles
Brenda’s car wound its way up the tree-lined driveway to the Pendleton home and she idly wondered how many workers it took to maintain the beautiful gardens and the sprawling manicured lawn. The more modest grounds of the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast were under the care of a father and son team who took care of many other business properties in Brenda’s neighborhood. Surely this would require a small army of arborists and landscapers, however.
William answered the door and invited her inside. They sat in leather chairs that flanked a massive stone fireplace in the luxuriously appointed living room. He offered her something to drink and she declined. She questioned him about his visit to Ellen’s room the night before her death, and his eyes immediately misted over.
Dead in Bed Page 7