by Sonia Parin
“We swept through the entire room and found nothing. I’ve also had officers looking through the Winthrop estate.”
“I assume you also thought to look through her phone and computer and… social media presence.”
“Yes, Abby. I had it all on my to-do list. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”
“Hang on. How do you know I left Willoughby Park?”
Silence.
“Have you been checking up on me?”
Joshua snorted. “As if I’d do that… Why would I do that?”
“You sound strange. What’s going on?” Abby pressed the phone against her ear, almost as if she expected to pick up on his vibes. “Wait a minute. You’re keeping tabs on me. Why would you do that?” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “You either want to know if I’m following a lead or you want me out of the way. Which one is it?”
Joshua sighed. “This is a high-profile case, Abby.”
“And?”
“And Harriet Winthrop has asked for discretion. She has gone into damage control and wishes to keep the press at bay. I only want you to take extra care. Pretend as if you’re going about your daily business.”
“But she agreed to an interview with me. Please tell me that’s still on.”
“Yes, and that is her way of containing the situation and maintaining control over everything.”
“Did you deliberately organize to have me shunted off to Willoughby Park?”
“Shunted off? You’re living in the lap of luxury. You have everything you could possibly need and want at your disposal.”
“There’s a deep, dark hole in your plans, buddy-boy. If you intended to keep me out of the way, you’ve hobbled me right in the thick of it. I’m staying at the scene of the crime. Were you hoping I wouldn’t see the forest for the trees? What’s going on?” Lately, Joshua had come to appreciate her input. In fact, he’d even asked her to assist and look at a crime scene and offer her fresh perspective.
Joshua laughed. “Are you done being paranoid?”
“Yes, sorry.” Abby huffed out a breath. “Who needs coffee when I have this puzzle to solve?”
“You say that now, but I’m sure you’re on your way to Joyce’s for a shot of caffeine.”
“Don’t try to derail my thinking. It’s not going to work.” Actually, it had. She really wouldn’t mind sinking her teeth into those pancakes Joyce had taunted her with earlier that day.
“Abby, if you could do this as a personal favor…”
“Do what? Keep my snoopy nose out of your police business? For your information, I had no intention of becoming involved. Faith dragged me out of bed and then you dragged me back to the pub and then, somehow, you lured me to Willoughby Park...” She sat back and closed her eyes.
“Have you considered taking a nap?” Joshua suggested.
“I’ll be fine,” Abby assured him.
“Okay. Whatever you get up to, please be discreet,” Joshua said. “Harriet Winthrop doesn’t want this tragedy to be sensationalized.”
“Oh, yes… Of course. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” She didn’t want to be responsible for setting the powers that be upon him. “And if I think of something or come across some worthwhile information… I’ll consider letting you know.”
Abby looked out the window. She knew how Faith felt. There was something obvious… staring her in the face.
Someone hadn’t wanted her to attend the ball and that same someone might not want her to look into the case. “When you spoke with Harriet Winthrop…” Abby closed her eyes for a moment.
Joshua whistled. “Hello? Are you still there?”
“Oh, yes. Still here.” Abby grumbled.
“You were going to ask something.”
“Was Harriet at all helpful?”
“She allowed us to look around. Then again, she didn’t have much of a choice.”
“And you didn’t get anything out of Helen Forbes.”
After a measured silence, Joshua pushed out a breath. “She only said Marigold kept fanning herself.”
“Too young to be menopausal,” Abby murmured. “What were Helen Forbes’ duties?”
“The usual personal assistant duties. She also helped Marigold dress, and she did her hair and make-up. Before you ask, yes, we sent the products to the lab. So far, there’s nothing. Anything else, Abby?”
“I’ll call you if I have any more questions or ideas.”
“Yeah, you do that and enjoy your stay at Willoughby Park.”
Smiling, Abby put the car into gear and drove off.
The refreshing fruit salad she’d had for dessert hadn’t quite hit the spot. Also, while Wadsworth had served a splendid coffee, as good as anything served at an award-winning restaurant, it didn’t compare to Joyce’s.
Seeing a parking spot right outside Joyce’s Café, she slowed down.
If Marigold hadn’t ingested the formaldehyde and no trace of it had been found in the products used on her face and hair, then…
Abby’s eyes widened. She scooped in a breath and, instead of parking the car, she drove off.
A short drive later, she sat outside Miffi Howsen’s house.
Ten minutes later, she hadn’t moved.
Reason told her to call Joshua and pass on the information swimming around her head. She drew up a pros and cons list. She could first gather some basic information for him…
How would Joshua feel about her theory? Too far-fetched?
“If Marigold didn’t ingest the formaldehyde and the police didn’t find traces of it in the hair and make-up products… Then, she must have absorbed it through her skin by some other means.”
Frowning, she reached for her cell phone and did a search on-line. She seemed to remember something about a dress and… poison.
Chapter Twelve
Abby grabbed the bottle she’d purchased at the pub and looked toward Miffi Howsen’s front door. “I can’t exactly go in there, guns blazing, accusing her of poisoning Marigold.”
However, she could work it into the conversation. At least, she could try to get some information to fill in some of the time-line gaps.
They knew what time Marigold had arrived at Willoughby Park and when she’d made a grand entrance at the ball. But what had happened during the morning or the day before?
Yes, she’d get some facts, she’d sort out her thoughts and then she’d pass on the information to Joshua.
“This is nothing but a social call,” Abby said and, looking down at her cell phone screen, she skimmed through the article she’d found. “Nothing but an urban myth,” she murmured and bookmarked the page so she could show Faith and get her opinion on it. Putting her cell phone away, she looked up.
This could go either way. She’d either found a lead to follow or…
“I’m about to make an enemy.”
Miffi answered her door on the second knock.
It didn’t surprise Abby to see her holding a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other.
“Out and about gathering information?” Miffi asked.
“Actually, I came by to thank you again for doing such a wonderful job with my dress.” Abby held up the bottle of Glenfiddich Whiskey she’d purchased.
“Come on in,” Miffi invited and showed her through to the front parlor. “I saw you from a distance last night. You wore the dress well and you looked fabulous.”
“Thank you, but that dress would have made anyone look good.”
“Not really.” Miffi took a sip of her drink. “The average woman tends to slouch.” She tapped her hand under her chin. “And drop her chin.”
Abby supposed she had the hardships endured under the strict guidance of her third-grade teacher to thank for her posture. The woman had only needed to clap her hands to get everyone sitting up straight.
“I doubt anyone will ever be able to surpass last night’s event,” Miffi remarked. A second later, she lifted her glass. “Actually, I doubt
anyone will want to.”
“Yes, I have to admit it felt stranger than fiction.” Abby leaned forward. “Did Marigold show any signs of feeling ill?”
Miffi tipped her head back in thought. “I can’t say that I noticed. Although… when she came in for her dress fitting, she seemed to be preoccupied. Almost distracted.”
“I take it she came in for a final fitting on Friday.”
Miffi nodded. “She arrived shortly after you left. She’d already had a final fitting and I actually expected Helen Forbes to come by and collect the dress. Instead, Marigold showed up. At first, I thought she might have issues with the dress. She’s done that before, asking me to make last minute adjustments.”
“So, you’ve made dresses for her in the past.” Miffi had already alluded to the fact, but Abby wanted to make sure.
Miffi nodded. “She usually came to me when she needed something new for a special occasion.”
So, she hadn’t been a first-time customer, Abby mused and realized she would have reached the same conclusion before; however, she’d had no reason to read between the lines. Now, everything Miffi said would be put under the microscope. “How did you meet Marigold?”
“Word of mouth. I retired and came to live here five years ago. Before settling here, I spent a couple of months in the city and I bumped into several old acquaintances.” Miffi shrugged. “People I’d met when I was just starting out. Someone happened to mention bumping into me and recommended me to Marigold. The world of high fashion is rather small. Everyone knows everyone.”
Five years. Long enough to become best friends or cultivate grievances.
“Did she ever show signs of suffering from asthma?”
Miffi held up her cigarette. “She never complained about my smoking. If she’d had asthma, she would have said something.” Miffi finished her drink and got up. “Would you like one?”
“No, thank you. I’m driving.”
“I’ll be back shortly. I need to get some more ice.”
Left alone in the parlor, Abby got up to look at some photos she hadn’t noticed before. They had been arranged on a small side table. Miffi appeared in all of them. Each picture marked a special occasion. A day at the races. A trip to Paris. A vintage car rally. Dinner in a real Greek taverna overlooking the Aegean Sea…
As she turned toward her chair, Abby noticed the ashtray next to Miffi’s chair.
Miffi kept a tidy house so Abby assumed she cleaned out her ashtrays every day. There were about twenty cigarette butts and the day was only half over…
Miffi returned carrying a glass of water. “I would offer you a coffee, but I’ve heard say you only drink Joyce’s coffee.”
“Thank you.” Abby took a sip and wondered if she should remark on the… watery taste. “Mmm. Refreshing.” She looked around the room. “I’ve been admiring your photos again.” She pointed to the ones on the small table. “Don’t you miss it all? You’ve been to so many cities and here you are, living in a small town.”
“It took some getting used to, but I’ve led such a hectic life, I always knew I’d settle down in a quiet part of the world. Although, I have to admit, I’m surprised I ended up here. I always imagined I’d find somewhere in rural France or the Cotswolds.”
“So, why did you end up here?”
“I grew up nearby in a small farm. My mother had been a seamstress, so I learned my craft from her. That was a different time when women used to either make their own dresses or have someone make it for them. Anyhow, I wanted a peaceful environment but I also wanted to be near town. I guess a part of me yearned for home.”
“You’ve done very well for yourself. It makes me think I should find somewhere homier to settle into while I’m here.” Abby looked around her. “Everywhere I look I see a life story. I don’t get that in my little apartment. You have a lovely home, Miffi. It’s so tidy… Do you have a cleaning lady?” it occurred to ask.
“I do. She comes in every other day. I’ve never been any good at household chores.” She held up a finger. “Except ironing. I find it soothing.”
Abby wondered if asking for the cleaner’s name would be too obvious. “I guess she’s a local.”
Miffi nodded. “She’s a young girl doing part-time studies by correspondence.”
“She’s obviously very good at what she does.”
“She’s a neat freak. Just the other day she decided to re-organize my drawers in order of usage. You’d think she’d put my cigarettes in the top drawer.” Miffi shrugged. “She might have been trying to send me a message by storing them in a bottom drawer.”
Abby gave her a small smile. “If she’s ever in need of another job, let me know.”
“Are you looking to hire? I thought the pub had their own cleaners.”
“Yes, they do… but I might consider moving out of the pub and into a small house. Do you think she… Sorry, what’s your cleaner’s name?”
The edge of Miffi’s lip lifted slightly. “Laurie Meadows.”
“Do you think she might be able to fit another customer in?”
“She might. I’ll let her know you’re interested.”
Abby slid to the edge of her chair. “Someone mentioned quite a few people tried to get you to make dresses for them…” Abby smiled. “I guess Marigold and I were the lucky ones.”
“And Kelly Pierce.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right.” So far, she could point to two people who’d had access to Miffi’s house. Her cleaner and Kelly Pierce. Abby wondered if it would be too far-fetched to imagine one of them had tampered with Marigold’s dress…
Miffi uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Are you, by any chance, interrogating me?”
Abby responded with a resounding, “Huh?”
“You’ve been delving.” Miffi’s eyes brightened. “Has Marigold’s sudden death attracted police scrutiny?”
A simple yes would suffice, Abby told herself. “The police are looking into her death. Have they been in touch with you?”
Miffi took a slow sip of her whisky. “Why would they?”
“I heard something about them wanting to draw up a timeline to include anyone who’d come into contact with Marigold, possibly within the last few days.”
“I see. Of course, that would include me.”
Abby supposed she should also add Miffi’s name to the list of suspects. “Did Marigold ever express concerns about her health or make a passing remark about something bothering her?”
“No,” Miffi said. “Marigold had a positive attitude to everything. She didn’t believe in spreading bad tidings.”
Abby suspected Joshua had already accessed her medical records but hadn’t shared them with her.
Miffi swung her foot from side to side. “You want to know who came into contact with Marigold. Is that why you asked about Laurie Meadows?”
It took a moment for Abby to connect the name to Miffi’s cleaner. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be underhanded. Truth is, the police are carrying out their investigations but I can’t help thinking I could be useful.” Joshua had asked her make discreet inquiries but she knew if she mentioned Marigold to anyone in town, they would immediately jump to conclusions and think they had a killer living among them. Abby sighed. Her brain felt scrambled by lack of sleep and far too much going on around her. She suspected Joshua had called her to try and find out what her next move might be. Did he even know about Miffi Howsen? The thought perked her up somewhat. She was a step ahead of him…
Miffi studied her for a long moment before saying, “So you’re working under the radar. As a way to assist the police or to get a scoop?”
“I’d never print anything that would jeopardize the police investigation.” Abby clasped her hands together. “Is there anything you can tell me, anything at all?” As she asked the question, her gaze strayed to one of the photos sitting beside Miffi. It had been taken at the races. Miffi and Marigold had smiled brightly at the camera and they’d been celebrating a win in the fashion stake
s. Had something happened to sour the relationship?
Abby left Miffi’s house with so many suspicions, her head spun. She sat in her car for a moment trying to gather her thoughts.
When her cell phone rang, she ignored it. But the caller persevered. Seeing the caller ID, Abby answered and told Joyce, “I have a brief window of opportunity before I need to get back. So, let’s talk fast.” As she spoke, her mind filled with images of the pancakes she’d missed out on that morning. If she went to Joyce’s now, Abby knew she would draw everyone’s attention to her. Anything she said and did could be misconstrued and she could inadvertently set off the gossip mongers. If it got back to Harriet Winthrop, she might pull strings and get Joshua into trouble.
Abby groaned. She needed to play it safe and stay out of sight.
Despite having called her, Joyce refused to speak on the phone and insisted on a face to face meeting because, according to Joyce, that was the only way she would know if Abby was telling the truth.
“Face to face? Joshua asked me to be discreet,” Abby said.
“What is he afraid of? Does he think the town will go on a rampage and demand someone’s head?”
“I think it has to do with Harriet Winthrop,” Abby explained. “She wants to avoid a cloud of scandal hanging over her family.”
“Nonsense,” Joyce said. “Who is she to call the shots?”
Abby brushed her hand across her eyes. “How can we meet without drawing attention to ourselves?” Abby should have known better than to ask…
She listened to the instructions and waited until Joyce hung up before she rolled her eyes. “Okay. I can do this. I’ve lived here long enough to know what some people consider to be odd behavior is nothing but a walk in the park to the people of Eden.”
She drove up to Brilliant Baubles and, as per Joyce’s instructions, parked the car across the street. Next, she dug out her sunglasses and put them on.
She would cross the street at a sedate pace, enter Brilliant Baubles and ask to be shown through to the back room.