by Anne Canadeo
“She does have the most motive. She wanted a divorce and a good chunk of his money.” Suzanne swept in, carrying the platter of perfectly grilled kebabs. She’d obviously been tuned into the conversation while outside, cooking.
“Pullman has motive too,” Dana pointed out. “With Morton gone, he’s free of a hefty debt. Amy said he was an investment banker but lost his job. Even if he has a good cushion of savings, this isn’t exactly a budget-wise place to live,” Dana added.
Phoebe wandered over to the stove, where Suzanne had left the kebabs. She hung over the platter, inhaled deeply, and practically swooned. “Speaking of ups and downs, I could down some of this delicious food. It smells amazing, and the grilled vegetables are so beautiful. Wait . . . let me take a picture. It will look good, even on my cell phone.”
Lucy smiled. Why did people Phoebe’s age feel compelled to take photos of everything they ate, then post it on Facebook and Instagram? Although, Lucy had to admit, Suzanne’s cooking was worthy of going viral.
“This meal does looks like the cover of a gourmet cooking magazine,” Maggie said.
“Gee, thanks, guys. Just a little something I whipped up. We can keep the hummus and yogurt sauce on the table. I grilled some pita bread, too,” Suzanne said, showing them another platter. “And there’s Greek salad in the fridge.”
“What a feast. I won’t eat for a week after this.” Dana rose and carried her glass to the sink. “Let me help you,” she said to Suzanne. “Tell me what to do.”
“Before we all faint from hunger, the first thing we need to do is clean up from our first course and set the table outside.” Maggie picked up her glass, and Phoebe’s.
Lucy got up from her comfy seat and set to work, too. A few minutes later they were seated on the patio behind the cottage, enjoying their Mediterranean banquet along with a light white wine.
“I couldn’t find Greek wine. It’s Italian, close enough. A crisp little Frascati,” Suzanne explained.
“It goes perfectly with the meal.” Lucy took a sip of the wine and then a taste of her salad. Everything was delicious.
“I know you paid a small fortune to take us out to dinner last night, Suzanne. But this meal is even better,” Maggie confessed.
“Aww. Come on. Of course it’s not. It’s just some shish kebabs. I make them all the time at home.”
“Then your family is very lucky. This is even better than a restaurant. And the company helps, too,” Dana added. “A toast to the chef.” She raised her glass to Suzanne and everyone did the same, clinking glasses with each other.
“Definitely . . . here’s to Suzanne. Long may she cook, and very often, for us,” Phoebe said, making everyone laugh.
They enjoyed the rest of dinner without talking about Dr. Morton’s murder or the possible suspects. Instead, talk turned to Lucy’s wedding. Lucy actually found talking about the murder less stressful, but she had to indulge her friends.
* * *
They worked together clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen. Suzanne’s phone rang just as she was serving dessert.
Lucy could tell Amy was on the line. The conversation was brief, with Suzanne saying, “Really?” and “I’m not at all surprised” several times. The group sat silently, waiting for Suzanne to finish the call.
“Breaking news. The police took both Tanya and Sam in for questioning. Amy just heard it from Helen Shelburn, who saw Tanya escorted into a police cruiser. She asked around and found out Sam was taken in, too.”
“I’m not surprised, either,” Maggie said. “Maybe the police finally have the same idea that we do, and this case will be solved before the night is through.”
“Maybe even before we finish playing Scrabble?” Phoebe added, a hopeful and questioning note in her tone.
Some of her friends were not as keen as Phoebe on playing Scrabble. Who could be? Phoebe was a bona fide Scrabble fiend, employing great strategy and possessing a rich Scrabble vocabulary.
Scrabble champions knew a lot of words with Q and Z, the highest scoring letters. X was up there, too. Obscure words like quixotic and xenophobic came to Scrabble champs easily. Lucy didn’t doubt that if there was such a thing as Scrabble Olympics, Phoebe would definitely bring home the gold.
“I know I’m a lamb hopping off to slaughter, but I’m in,” Lucy said. “Maybe we will hear more about Tanya Morton and Sam Briggs while we’re playing.”
“Like an eight-letter word that begins with A?” Phoebe said. “Arrested. Or maybe apprehended, pinched, collared, nabbed, nailed?”
Suzanne grinned, spooning out a mixture of fresh berries over scoops of creamy vanilla and strawberry ice creams, piled onto a shortcake. “We get the gist, Phoebe. How many points would you rack up for one of those?”
Phoebe shrugged. “Depends if you hit any double letter or double word boxes. Or a triple letter or triple word box. That’s sweet, too. Sometimes a short word can score bigger than a longer one. You have to look carefully. Get the big picture.”
“You already beat me. I think I’ll watch a movie on Netflix. Anyone want to join me?” Suzanne added a spoonful of berry sauce to Phoebe’s dessert and passed it over.
“That sounds relaxing,” Dana said.
“I’ll try my hand at Scrabble. I have to give Lucy some support,” Maggie said.
Lucy appreciated the gesture, though she knew Maggie wasn’t very serious about the game and would probably knit while they played.
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? I have an appointment for a Reiki massage and a facial.” Suzanne had served everyone and now spooned up a taste of her own dessert. “You’re coming with me, right, Lucy?”
“I’m all in on the pampering session. But I just have a facial scheduled so far.”
“I think I’ll skip the spa. I might just sit on the beach again and read,” Dana said. “That’s relaxing enough for me.”
“I was thinking of a mani-pedi,” Maggie said. “But I’m scheduled to do that second knitting class in the afternoon, to see how everyone is doing with the pattern. I wanted to get further along on it myself.”
“Do you think people have been knitting with a murderer on the loose?” Suzanne asked in her blunt style.
“Actually . . . I do. Maybe even more than usual. It’s a real stress buster. You know that,” Maggie said, taking out her own knitting.
“I agree with Maggie. I think Dr. Morton’s murder has inspired some busy needles this weekend. It’s the perfect distraction from all this stressful news,” Dana said.
Suzanne added an extra spoonful of berries to her dish. “When you put it that way, I have to agree. But all things considered, Maggie, you really don’t have to give another workshop. I’m sure everyone will understand.”
“I know, but I did promise Amy. It will be a good distraction for her, too,” Maggie said. “And a few in her group have approached me with questions. I hate to leave them all dangling, having to sort things out by themselves.”
“That’s very responsible of you,” Lucy said.
“I made a promise. And frankly, I’d rather be helping knitters than be pummeled and prodded on a massage table.”
Suzanne quickly came to the defense of the massage therapists. “They don’t pummel unless you ask them to. I think it’s delightful. I just zone out.”
Phoebe had taken out her Scrabble deluxe edition box, and began setting up for the game. “I’m in Maggie’s camp. I’m not into spas, either. I feel weird, having everyone wait on me, and walking around in a bathrobe and flip-flops all day. I’m going out for a hike on the beach. Maybe take more photos . . . with my phone.”
Lucy heard her give a little plaintive sigh. “When will you get your camera back? Have you called the police station?”
Phoebe glanced at her and then shook the bag of tiles. “I thought about it. But Dunbar scares me.”
Lucy couldn’t help smiling, though she didn’t mean to make light of Phoebe’s feelings. “Do you want me to call for you?” She gla
nced at her watch. “I can call right now. She might not be on duty, but I’ll leave a message.”
“Okay. If you want to. That would be great, Lucy. Thanks.”
Phoebe took her place at the table, opposite Lucy across the Scrabble board. Lucy took out her phone and dialed the police station. Then she was transferred to Detective Dunbar’s line. Another officer picked up and quickly checked on Lucy’s question.
When Lucy ended the call, she was happy to relay good news. “They said they’re done, and you can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Great! At least I have one more day to take pictures before we leave on Monday.”
“I guess that means we won’t see much of you tomorrow, Phoebe,” Dana said. “Just be careful out near the cliff,” she added. “It’s easy to get distracted, focused on the view or a bird in flight, and forget how close you are to the edge.”
“Never mind some creepy killer sneaking up behind me. I’m done taking pictures from the cliff top, thank you. I’ll be down on the beach, on solid ground. I don’t even like looking over the edge,” Phoebe admitted.
“Acrophobia?” Dana asked.
“Exactly. And thanks for the word,” Phoebe replied. “Definitely high scoring, with proper placement.”
Lucy and Maggie had already taken their places at the board and picked out their tiles from the bag.
Lucy glanced at Maggie. “We’re going to get crushed.” She sighed. “But it will be fun.”
“How about vanquished? A few more tiles and I can put that one down.”
“I picked some good tiles, too,” Maggie murmured as she arranged hers on a little wooden tray. She sounded more into the game than Lucy expected. Focus, Lucy. You could come in low scorer tonight if you’re not careful.
Suzanne and Dana sat side by side on the couch, negotiating over which movie to choose. Suzanne’s phone rang, and she quickly answered it. Once again, Lucy could tell it was Amy and, once again, the room went silent waiting to hear what she said.
The call was brief. Suzanne put her phone down and turned to her friends. “That was Amy. She just heard from Helen Shelburn. Sam Briggs was released by the police, but they’re still questioning Tanya.”
“They didn’t keep him very long,” Maggie said. “I wonder why they’re keeping her longer.”
“They must suspect her more, or have more on her,” Suzanne said.
“Not necessarily,” Dana replied. “Maybe Sam has a better lawyer.”
“I doubt that,” Suzanne said.
“Maybe they’re just being thorough. It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she’s just a wife who wanted a divorce, and her husband died before they could hash it out,” Maggie replied. “I guess you could say she just got lucky . . . in a way.”
Lucy fiddled with her Scrabble tiles. She had a good word to put down: enigma. Not bad right out of the gate.
“A lucky coincidence? Maybe,” Lucy speculated. “But I have a feeling there’s something more going on with Tanya. More than her nasty divorce or even a thing with Sam. Something the police haven’t figured out yet.”
Chapter 8
Lucy woke slowly from a deep sleep, as if she were underwater and pushing her way up to the surface. Images of the cliff walk and frolicking mermaids lingered in her mind’s eye as the bedroom came into focus.
Her room was dark. Rain spattered the window. She heard a cell phone ring in the next room where Suzanne and Dana were sleeping. Finally, it stopped. Lucy was sure it was the middle of the night, and she took her phone from the night table to check the time. It was a few minutes before six. She heard Suzanne talking to Dana, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
She slipped out of bed and knocked on their door. “Come in,” Dana called out quietly.
“Hey guys. What’s up?” Lucy felt groggy. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then sat on the edge of Suzanne’s bed. Suzanne and Dana were sitting up and looked wide awake. Suzanne still held her phone in her hand.
“Is everything okay at home, Suzanne?”
“The home front is hunky-dory. But the Cutler front is a Dumpster fire. The police just came back to their cottage. They asked Rob a lot of questions, then took him to the station for another interview.”
“Another interview? But why?” Lucy was shocked.
Dana sat up and hugged her knees. “Amy said it has to do with Tanya Morton and something she told the police last night. Now they suspect some connection between Rob and Tanya.”
Lucy felt another shock wave ripple through her. “It’s Rob and Tanya now? Not Sam and Tanya?”
Suzanne shrugged. “Who knows what Tanya would say to save her own glorious skin. I really doubt Rob would be unfaithful to Amy. Though that Tanya is a knockout.”
Dana leaned back on her pillows. “Tanya could be involved with both men. That’s not beyond the range of possibilities. One has brains, and the other, brawn. The total package if you put them together.”
“Did she need a total package to kill her husband? If she did conspire to kill him, I mean,” Lucy said.
Suzanne checked her text messages and put her phone aside. “It’s all very muddled. All I know is that Amy is practically hysterical. I’m going over there right away.”
“That’s good of you, Suzanne.” Dana got of bed and slipped on her robe. “But why don’t you ask Amy to come here? Having all of us around will be more of a distraction. I’ll make breakfast. You can just focus on her.”
Suzanne stared at Dana a moment. “Deal . . . as long as we’re not eating scrambled tofu and sipping green smoothies.”
Dana laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make something fun. I think I saw a waffle iron in the cupboard.”
“You did. I brought it from home.” Suzanne got up, too, and put on her slippers.
“You brought a waffle iron? Seriously?” This was hard to believe, even for Suzanne.
“Why not? It comes in handy on a long weekend. I rarely travel without a hair dryer or a waffle iron.”
“How about a Cuisinart?” Dana asked. “Do you have one of those stashed somewhere in your car?”
Suzanne pulled on a kimono, purple silk covered with pink and lavender blossoms. “Don’t be silly. I just bring the mini chopper.”
As Suzanne sashayed out of the bedroom, Dana and Lucy stared at each other a moment, then laughed. Lucy followed Dana to the kitchen, careful not to wake Maggie and Phoebe.
“So how long did the Scrabble tournament last? You three were going strong when Suzanne called it a night,” Dana asked.
“We were up a while after you turned in. Four rounds. Phoebe won all the games by a wide margin, of course. Maggie and I each made second place twice.” Lucy gratefully accepted a mug of coffee that Dana handed over to her.
“Good thing you weren’t playing for money.”
“Real good thing. I’d be wiped out. I still have some strange words floating in my head. Ubiquitous. Mimesis . . . Phoebe knows them all.”
“Are you sure she didn’t make a few up?” Dana was kidding of course.
“She was prepared for fact-checking with a Webster’s Pocket Dictionary. I have to work on my vocabulary.”
“That little Phoebe, she’s full of surprises.”
“You guys talking about me?” Phoebe walked into the kitchen in her pajamas—polka-dot cotton shorts and a black Hello Kitty T-shirt. Her long hair was in a high ponytail, her eyes still half-closed.
“Only in a good way, honey,” Dana said. “Coffee?” She held out a mug, and Phoebe took it gratefully.
“Sorry if we woke you. Amy just called. The police came to the Cutlers’ early this morning and took Rob back to the station for more questioning.”
Phoebe was curled in an armchair. She put down her coffee and gasped. “OMG! That’s awful. Why would Rob want to murder Dr. Morton? He hardly knew him. That makes no sense.”
“Tanya told the police something that’s turned their focus back on Rob. We don’t know what she said yet,” Lucy explained.
“Rob and Tanya . . . an item?” Phoebe looked shocked again. “No offense, but he’s sort of a science nerd and she’s . . . well, like a supermodel.”
“Catalogs, I heard,” Lucy clarified. “But still. I get your point.”
Dana had already taken out the waffle iron and was measuring ingredients. “Opposites attract?”
“I agree with Suzanne. I doubt it’s an affair. But if it’s not . . . what is their connection?” Lucy was stumped.
“Maybe we’ll learn more when Amy comes,” Dana said.
“Amy is coming? Now? It’s barely seven AM.” Maggie walked in, tying the belt on her dark blue bathrobe.
Dana quickly caught her up on the morning’s events.
“My goodness . . . it sounds like Rob is a person of interest in this case.”
“We know what happens after that. From person of interest to suspect number one,” Phoebe said. “I don’t know why they’ve singled him out. There are so many other people, a lot closer to Dr. Morton, who hated him and had more reason than Rob to do him in.”
“Let’s hope so.” Maggie nodded and sipped her coffee.
Suzanne came into the kitchen, freshly showered. She wore dark blue shorts and a blue and white long-sleeved top that had a little gold anchor sewed near the shoulder. A nautical look, though it was hardly sailing weather. A bit cool this morning, and still raining.
“Amy will be over in a few minutes. She liked the idea of hanging out with us this morning. And the waffles nailed it.”
“We’re having a waffle-fest? Yum.” Phoebe sat up, looking as interested as Lucy’s dog Tink did every time she heard her kibble bag rattle.
“I’m going to make a batch and put them in the oven. We can put the leftover berries from last night’s dessert on top.”
“Maybe some of the leftover whipped cream would be nice, too,” Suzanne suggested. “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook, Dana.”