by Sonia Parin
Chapter Four
“How was your sleep, Mom?”
“Great. I dozed off in my armchair. I think it sort of gave me an authentic feeling of dozing off in a bus. Oh, and I checked my inbox. Would you believe it? Bert sent me an email asking for my address so he can post the Beatrix Potter drawing. I felt awkward for about a minute and then I got over it. It’s going to take pride of place in my study. I suggested the postage might cost less if he sent it to you. I guess I’ll have to wait to hear back from him. Anyway, I’m all set for the rest of the night. When we go downstairs to the bar, pan the cell phone around. I want to see what you see when you go down.”
Abby took a moment to make sure she didn’t walk out looking like roadkill. “Come on, Doyle. It’s happy hour.”
Doyle scurried on ahead and made a beeline for the fireplace. Abby scanned the bar and then panned the cell phone, her time delay, she thought pleased to see everyone going about their business as usual.
Or so she thought.
Someone noticed her and nudged the person next to them. That set off a domino effect. Within a few minutes, everyone in the bar looked her way and waved, the smiles on their faces not quite matching their worried expressions.
The waitresses had stopped in mid-stride as if waiting for a prompt from Abby. Even Mitch froze in place.
Abby made a rolling motion with her hand.
“What just happened?” her mom asked.
Abby grinned. “I have no idea. After several months of living in this town, I have decided to just go with the flow and not ask too many questions.”
“I don’t see the tourist group anywhere. Could you go into the dining room, Abby? I’d like to find out how the rest of their day trip turned out.”
Panicking, Abby dug deep for a distraction. “Oh, look. Here’s Markus sitting on his comfy chair by the fireplace. Say hello, Markus. He actually mentioned wanting to give you a guided tour of all the photographs in the pub. There’s quite a lot of history here, Mom. I think you’d enjoy it.” Abby didn’t give her mom or Markus time to object. Handing the cell phone over, she backed away and sank into a barstool.
Mitch leaned forward and whispered, “You haven’t told her yet.”
Abby shook her head. “You know me well enough by now. I’m not the type of person to say this, but I need a drink.”
Mitch wagged a finger at her. “You’ve made it too complicated. I’ve had some people say they’re afraid of putting a foot wrong and think they should stay away but they don’t dare because they’re afraid they’ll miss out on you putting a foot wrong.”
That didn’t surprise Abby. “Hey, do you remember the tourist group coming into the bar last night?”
He nodded. “They had a late dinner and then finished up here. Why?”
His last meal. His last drink with friends…
“Just checking to make sure I hadn’t imagined it.” Abby looked around the bar. There were several small tables and a long table at one end everyone referred to as the captain’s table and that’s where the tourist group had settled in. “Do you remember seeing any of them going upstairs during the evening?”
Mitch straightened and wiped the counter. “Are you chasing a story, Abby?”
“I might be, but it’s only gossip.” The more she thought about it, the more she felt it had been odd for the person to close the door without saying anything. If they’d opened the door in response to Abby trying to fit her key in, then it would have made sense for them to say something.
That didn’t sound right. Now that she thought about it, they’d actually opened the door before she’d tried to fit the key in. Meaning… What? They’d been on their way out and hadn’t wanted to be seen leaving the room?
She took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “Never mind. I’m only trying to get back into the swing of things.” And find out who’d been having an affair, Abby thought.
“By asking pointless questions?” Mitch asked. “That doesn’t make sense unless you think someone’s up to something.”
Abby straightened and grinned. “I’m a student of human nature and like to know why people behave the way they do.” She swung around on her barstool. Markus stood at one end of the bar and appeared to be doing a methodical job of explaining each photo to her mom. The walls were covered with them, some dating back to the 1800s. She’d definitely put her mom in safe hands.
“If you’re looking for the tourists, they’re in the dining room,” Mitch said.
“All of them?”
“All except one. She ordered room service and said she still felt too upset to join the others.” Mitch clicked his fingers. “Cynthia.”
Abby brought up a mental image of the woman, matching the name to the face.
“She had the local doctor attend to her,” Mitch added. “Apparently, her blood pressure dropped from the shock.”
“I suppose that’s normal behavior. They’re all friends. Abby shivered. She hoped her mom didn’t take it too hard. “I keep forgetting it’s winter here. I’m going to have to go upstairs and get a sweater. If Faith comes in, tell her I’ll be down in a sec.” Along the way, she wondered if Cynthia had been the one she’d seen when she’d tried to open the wrong door.
The rooms at the pub were all on the first floor. Being at the end of the hallway afforded Abby some privacy, or so she assumed. She hadn’t tested the theory yet. Once the skiing season kicked in, she’d been told the place would fill up and, she guessed, that meant there would be more noise with people coming and going at all hours.
Finding the sweater she wanted, she strode out again. Along the way, she heard a murmured conversation coming from one of the rooms.
None of your business, Abby. Just keeping walking, she told herself.
When she settled back at the bar, Mitch lifted his eyebrows and gestured to the other end of the bar.
“You’ll have to tell me how you talked Markus into holding your mom hostage.”
She hadn’t exactly asked. Maybe she had become bossy. As she swirled around to check on them, she saw Joyce and Bradford coming into the pub.
Mitch grinned. “No one wants to miss the action. This is good for business.”
Abby swung back and stared into space.
Frowning, Mitch said, “You look lost in thought.”
“I’m trying to snatch a bit of quiet time.”
“At the pub?”
Abby made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “I’m okay, so long as I let the noise wash over me. Once this is over, I’m going to need a vacation.”
“Um, don’t panic just yet. Markus is back in his chair by the fireplace but your mom, a.k.a. your cell phone, is not with him.”
“What?” Abby jumped off her barstool and rushed toward Markus. “What have you done with my mom?”
“Relax. She’s having dinner with Joyce and Bradford.”
“But I gave you clear instructions.”
Markus shrugged. “There’s only so much I can say about my ancestors. I tried to paint a rosy picture but, to be honest with you, I’m sure half of them were scoundrels and I don’t like to lie.”
Abby rushed off toward the dining room and nearly crashed into a waitress. Everyone in town had come in for dinner and they all now turned to look at her. Some made discreet gestures toward the table in the middle of the dining room. That’s where she found Joyce and Bradford with her mom, the cell phone propped against a wine bottle.
Only two tables away from the tourist group. What had they been thinking?
She reached the table just as her mom said, “I can’t believe Bert Howington has suddenly become camera shy.”
Joyce tried to distract her with the menu. “Have you ever tasted kangaroo, Eleanor?”
“Isn’t that the cute critter on your coat of arms?”
Smiling, Joyce said, “Yes, the emu is there too and it’s been known to grace our dinner table. I haven’t tried it myself, but I’m told it’s quite tasty. You know, kangaroo meat is quite l
ean.”
Her mom hummed, “I’m not sure I’d be able eat Skippy.”
Joyce looked up. “Oh, here’s Abby. I hope you don’t mind. We rescued your mom from Markus’ clutches. Would you like to join us for dinner?”
“I’m not sure I can fit another meal in just yet,” Abby said, “But I’ll join you for a while. Although, you look as though you’re on a date.”
“Nonsense. Sit down.”
Abby suspected Joyce had everything under control but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. “Okay. I might nibble on something.”
Joyce waited for Abby to settle down and then winked. “Your mom has been telling us about her stroke of good luck. She is so lucky to be getting an original Beatrix Potter illustration.”
Abby silently groaned. Why tempt Fate by skating around the subject she most wanted to avoid? Why? Because Joyce obviously couldn’t help herself. She enjoyed living dangerously… At someone else’s expense.
Using the menu to hide her face, Abby mouthed, “Please change the subject.”
Joyce nodded. “Bradford had a new shipment come in today. His uncle had an associate who hunted down estate sales. I think it’s marvelous to never have to worry about where his stock is coming from. After all, people die all the time.”
She called that changing the subject?
“I love antiques,” her mom said. “Joyce, you’ll be spoilt for choice when you furnish your new home.”
“Yes, Joyce. When are you two getting married?” Abby asked.
“Bradford and I were just talking about that. Life can be so unpredictable. You get up in the morning, and you don’t know if you’ll make it through to the end of the day. So, we decided to bring the date forward and make the best of the time we’re given before either of us kicks the bucket… unexpectedly.”
“That’s a morbid outlook.” Abby looked at Bradford for confirmation but he didn’t lift his gaze away from the menu. For all Abby knew, he might have switched off.
Thankfully, the waitress came to take their orders and Joyce turned her focus to what she would have for dinner. However, Abby should have known Joyce wouldn’t give up her fun and games.
“I’ll have the steak. Rare please. In fact, rare enough for a skilled veterinarian to resurrect it. And for dessert... Let me see. I seem to remember Hannah baking a delightful Death by Chocolate Soufflé. Is that still on the menu?”
“Aren’t you concerned about keeping the weight off for your wedding dress?” Abby murmured.
“Oh, I’m having too much fun to worry about that.”
Whispering, Abby asked, “Whatever happened to helping me out?”
Joyce winked. “You know me, I like to keep things interesting.”
Glancing down at the cell phone, Abby saw her mom looking toward the tourist group table.
“I’d hate to say this, but I’m glad I’m over here instead of with the group,” her mom said. “They’re not looking as lively as they did yesterday or this morning. I still don’t see Bert Howington. Maybe that’s why. I should go over and ask about him. He mentioned feeling a little tired early today.”
“Really?”
“I wasn’t surprised,” her mom continued. “He keeps himself engaged in every conversation. And they have been on the trot, every day, for the past two weeks. It takes its toll. Abby, I think the waitress wants to take your order.”
“Oh, yes… I’ll have some bread and dip, please. Chef’s choice.”
“Is it just me or is everyone looking a bit mournful?” her mom asked. “Even the music wafting over from the bar is muted.”
They all exchanged glances. Abby couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought Joyce might have kicked Bradford under the table as a prompt to say something.
Bradford cleared his throat. “It’s probably the weather, Eleanor. The forecast is for snow. We haven’t had a patch of blue sky in days. Yes, that must be it.”
Joyce patted Abby’s hand and mouthed, “We’ve got this.”
Thankfully, Joyce gave it a rest and they managed to get through their meal without any mention of the subject Abby wanted to avoid.
“Relax, and have some wine, Abby,” Joyce encouraged.
“Thanks, but I already had a beer and I don’t like to mix my drinks.”
Joyce continued to behave herself by asking Abby’s mom about her job as an illustrator but there was only so much talking they could do before her mom found a gap in the conversation.
“I can’t believe Bert would leave his group to fend for themselves,” her mom said. “I hope he hasn’t come down with something.”
“Eleanor, you’re in for a visual treat,” Joyce clapped her hands. “Here comes my Death by Chocolate Soufflé. We’re very lucky to have a chef of Hannah’s caliber in this little town.”
Unfortunately, the soufflé failed to capture her mom’s attention which appeared to be fixed on something else.
Her mom sighed. “Abby, I think your detective is trying to catch your attention.”
“I don’t think so,” Abby said. “He went home for the day.”
“I’m sure that’s him. Look, he’s waving.”
Abby turned. It was Joshua. “Heavens. Is it that time already? I’d almost forgotten. I… I promised to play a game of darts with him. Excuse me.”
Abby rushed toward him, mouthing, “Smile.”
His lips moved upward but Abby could tell his heart wasn’t in it. This left her in no doubt he had come bearing ill tidings.
“Please tell me this is about you not being able to stay away.” Abby tried to smile, but her face tightened. She led him toward the bar. “Am I going to need a drink?”
“Yes.”
Abby huffed out a breath. “Okay. Spill.”
“According to the pathologist at the hospital, the tablets were beta blockers prescribed to lower blood pressure.”
“And?”
“He had a heart condition.”
“Are you trying to soften the blow?”
“You should have a drink first,” he suggested.
“Now I’m almost afraid to.” Abby shook her head. “I think I should keep a clear head.”
Joshua nodded and leaned in. “Preliminary tests have raised a few questions, enough to suspect foul play.”
“What exactly does that mean?” She knew what it meant but she wanted Joshua to spell it out for her so that she would be left in no doubt whatsoever.
“He found traces of a foreign substance.”
Abby tried to let the words sink in and make sense. She tossed them around her mind but she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea someone had tampered with the medication. “I’ll have that drink now, Mitch.”
Someone tapped Abby on the shoulder. She turned and found Joyce holding up Abby’s cell phone.
“Your mom insisted on speaking with you.” Joyce mouthed an apology.
Abby swallowed. “What’s up, Mom?”
“Bert Howington might have looked a little tired but he wouldn’t leave his friends alone. There’s something you’re not telling me, Abby. Has something happened to Bert Howington?”
Chapter Five
Abby made a last-ditch attempt to cover up Bert Howington’s death and failed miserably.
“Abby, I can always tell when you’re trying to wiggle your way out of telling the truth,” her mom warned. “You’ve been evasive and on edge all day long, and more chatty than usual.”
Abby considered opening with something along the lines of… Oh, heavens, she had no idea. Maybe she could remind her mom about Bert feeling tired, and how he might have been trying to play down the warning signs of an impending heart attack.
“Well?” her mom prompted.
“Mom, remember that time you sat me down and told me about the cycle of life.”
“Bert Howington is dead?”
Mitch rang the bar bell. Despite his height, he climbed onto a barstool. “Could I have everyone’s attention, please. No, this isn’t the last call. Folks, th
e jig is up. Abby gave the game away. You can all relax.”
A sigh of relief and a wave of murmurs swept around the bar.
“I see,” her mom said. “You were all in on it. What were you thinking, Abby? Were you trying to spare my feelings?”
Abby had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the loud chatter. Mitch’s announcement had wound everyone up and they’d launched into an animated discussion of the day’s event.
“Abby meant well, Eleanor,” Joyce said. “Why don’t we go back to our table and we’ll fill you in on everything that happened?”
That would only be half the story, Abby thought. She thanked Joyce and, straightening, she finished her drink.
Mitch smiled. “You gave it your best shot, Abby. Here, have a drink on the house.”
“Okay, detective. I think we need to take this somewhere else. I can barely hear myself think.”
“Yes, that would be a good idea.”
Abby waited until they’d reached the safety of her apartment to say, “We need to keep this under wraps. It’s bad enough he died. Now you’re saying he died under suspicious circumstances. At least, I think that’s what you’re saying. I’m not sure of anything anymore. It’s been a trying day.”
Joshua nodded.
“And why are you sharing this information with me?” Abby held her hand up. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to be privy to inside information but the police are not known for breaching protocol.”
“Your mom spent some time with the deceased. Has she mentioned anything that might be pertinent? Anything at all.”
Abby gave it some thought. “She noticed Bert hadn’t been feeling well.” Abby tried to remember her mom’s exact words. “Not as lively as he’d been. She put it down to being travel weary.” Abby got busy lighting the fire. She’d been lucky to land this apartment. The previous occupant had been Mitch’s sister, Eddie, and she’d made the place cozy with all the amenities one would enjoy in a normal apartment.