by Sonia Parin
“I don’t know. I’ve worked all my life. At some point, I expect I’ll find someone and settle down but I’ll still keep working and I’m sure I’ll end up living in a small farm nearby or a cottage in town.”
“Out of curiosity and assuming you were the type who aspired to something grander, what would you do to land yourself a wealthy husband?”
Faith leaned back on her chair. “That’s a tough one. Over the last couple of days, I’ve had fun pretending to be someone I’m not but it’s exhausting. If I could have this lifestyle and still be myself…” she looked around and grinned. “I want to say I’d do anything but I’m just an ordinary girl with ordinary dreams. I couldn’t fake being happy. Not even for this lifestyle.”
“Faith, there’s nothing ordinary about you. Assuming your ordinary dreams include falling in love, I think any man would be lucky to fall in love with you.”
Faith perked up. “You really think so?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
Shrugging, Faith said, “I have a cousin who came close to getting married. She broke it off when her boyfriend asked if she stood to inherit her parents’ farm. He wanted to know what he could look forward to getting.”
“That’s not so bad,” Abby said. “Once upon a time, parents were expected to provide dowries.”
“Yes, but I’d like to think someone special loved me for myself and not for what I brought into the marriage.”
They both fell silent. Abby emptied her mind and leaned back to enjoy a moment of quiet.
“So, what did you find out at the Winthrop house?” Faith eventually asked.
Abby was about to confide in Faith when Wadsworth appeared with Doyle by his side.
“Wadsworth. Would it be possible for Miss Maguire to get a bite to eat, please?”
“Straightaway, Miss O’Keefe.” He turned to Abby. “Cook is taking the afternoon off, but I can prepare a vegetable omelet.”
“Sounds great, Wadsworth. Thank you.” Abby scooped Doyle up and gave him a hug. “I wish I’d taken you with me. You might have sniffed out something, Doyle.”
“I guess that means you walked away empty-handed.”
Abby gave a half-hearted shrug. “I have a carefully worded statement, probably drawn up by the family lawyer. I won’t know for sure until I speak with Sebastian, but I suspect Harriet is not in her right mind. Either that, or she put on quite a performance. Her son, James, feels the loss more than he’d be willing to let on. Back in the day when I wrote for a lifestyle magazine, I never had any trouble picking up on the little white lies people tried to get away with. They’d pretend they’d engaged the services of a top of the line decorator when half their furniture had come from wholesale furniture stores. Bottom line, I think the Winthrop family is hiding something and it is probably only dirty laundry.”
“So, you don’t think they were involved in killing Marigold?”
Abby shook her head. “They’ve circled the wagons for a reason. I think someone in that house is guilty of something.”
Abby spent half an hour in her room trying to make sense of her encounter with the Winthrop family and nearly fell asleep in the process.
If one of her relatives died under suspicious circumstances, she would move heaven and earth to discover the culprit. Victims of crime pulled out all the stops to get information, even going on TV to plead for help. Why hide behind a charade of looney tunes? Of course, Harriet might not actually be in full possession of her wits.
Checking the time, she sat up and stretched only to flop back down on her bed. As she did, she began chuckling. What had possessed her to look under Marigold’s bed?
She leaned over the side of the bed and peered under it. “No dust bunnies.” The windows were partly opened but she knew someone would come in and close them before she turned in for the night. So, the room had the smell of fresh country air and… something else.
Abby sniffed and smelled something familiar. Or at least, something she’d smelled only recently.
“New mattress.”
“See, I made an effort to dress for dinner.” Abby swirled around. “Do I pass muster?”
“You changed your jeans.”
“And my blouse. Remember, I wore the pretty floral one today. I think black is more appropriate for a sit down formal meal with a titled landowner.”
They strode along the hallway admiring the pastoral paintings and Chinese vases on display.
“Charles is quite a collector.” Abby stopped to inspect the contents of a cabinet. “I think these are seals.”
Faith leaned down to look. “Oh, I thought they’d be carved seals, as in the little animals that frolic in the sea.”
“Nope. Letter seals. In the past, everything required so much attention. Nowadays, we lick an envelope or peel off the protective layer to seal it. I think it would have been more enjoyable to heat the wax and press the seal with the family crescent against it.”
Faith snorted. “I bet anything regular folk didn’t have family seals.”
“You’re right. A couple of hundred years ago, regular folk couldn’t even afford to post letters. It would have been dreadfully expensive.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stopped to look for Wadsworth. “If he doesn’t show up, we’ll have to hunt down the right sitting room.”
Faith murmured, “Charles has that many sitting rooms, he can have drinks in a different one every night.”
Not much fun if he’s doing it by himself, Abby thought.
“Lost your way?” Charles asked as he turned a corner and spotted them. “We’re over in the velvet room.”
“He even has names for his rooms.” Faith sighed. “I can’t remember ever doing so much walking. Even when I walk from home to the newspaper. And I haven’t even set foot outside the grounds.”
When they entered the velvet room, they found Joshua standing by the fireplace, a drink in hand and Sebastian sprawled on a red velvet sofa.
Seeing them, Sebastian sat up. “The sleuths have arrived.”
“What will you have to drink?” Charles asked. “Wadsworth excels at cocktails.”
Abby had never been much of a cocktail drinker. Other than the proverbial Cosmopolitan, she wouldn’t know what to ask for. But she was prepared to try something new.
“Might I suggest an Autumn Leaves cocktail. The flavors are quite intriguing.” As the butler prepared the drinks, he explained, “It begins with the South American brandy called Pisco and Drambuie, then a hint of Campari and lime is added. It should go nicely as a prelude to the stuffed pork loin cook has prepared for dinner.”
When they settled down on the couch to sip their cocktails, Joshua cleared his throat. “I caught up with Laurie Meadows.”
Abby pressed the glass against her lip. She’d forgotten to send him the photo Joyce had given her. If she told him about it now, he might think she’d been withholding information. She frowned at the strange thought. Every time she’d come across something that might be helpful in his investigations, she’d always been quick to pass on the information…
Had she acquired a competitive streak?
“She does a shift at the local hospital and the funeral home,” Joshua confirmed.
Both places stocked formaldehyde in one form or another. So, she would have had easy access…
“She said she’d never heard of Marigold Winthrop,” Joshua continued. “We had the manager at both the hospital and funeral home check their stock and nothing is missing.”
“Is she a local?”
Joshua shook his head. “No. She’s actually from the city. She moved here for the seasonal jobs up in the ski resort and then she stayed on, picking up a few houses to clean for extra cash while she studies by correspondence. She’s renting a room in a barn conversion which is well within her budget. Meaning, she doesn’t pay rent but does the house cleaning and occasional cooking.”
“So, how did you find her?” Abby asked.
Jo
shua took a sip of his drinks. “Does a magician reveal his tricks?”
Abby gave him a lifted eyebrow look that spoke of serious repercussions if he didn’t reveal his secrets. She had no idea why she thought he would catch on to the meaning. But, he did…
“I had several officers door knocking and then, I had a lucky break. I looked through the notice board at the store. She’d posted an ad for cleaning jobs.”
“I guess it’s still early days,” Faith said. “I’m sure you’ll find a lead.”
They all looked at Abby, but she had nothing new to offer.
Sebastian asked, “How did your interview go today?”
Abby wanted to ask if he’d set her up but decided that would be overstepping an imaginary boundary. “It went by the book. Harriet Winthrop called the shots and I toed the line.” Abby shrugged. “More or less. From memory, I tried to accuse her of wanting Marigold dead.”
Sebastian stared at her, his expression set into stone. After several minutes, he laughed. “I would have given anything to see you sitting in the throne room.”
“Throne room? You didn’t tell me about that,” Faith complained.
“Let’s just say I found it all too bizarre. James appears to be drinking himself into a stupor. I didn’t see Harry so I guess he’s still sedated.” Abby finished her drink. “Oh, I saw Marigold’s personal assistant.”
Wadsworth cleared his throat and rang a small gong.
Charles clapped his hands. “Just in time. I’m famished.”
Wadsworth led the way with Charles and Faith following while Abby brought up the rear, flanked by Sebastian and Joshua.
The dining room faced a patio with a water fountain surrounded by lush green ferns. Abby decided the setting would be more conducive to the round table discussion she suspected they were going to have.
She’d be happy to sit back and let Joshua fill them in while she enjoyed the sumptuous meal being served. In the past, she had actively assisted with his investigations, setting her mind to researching possible leads and being generally creative. Maybe she’d caught Faith’s bug. Staying at Willoughby Park had stymied her enthusiasm. She’d been happy to dabble and try to prod information out of Miffi Howsen, but she couldn’t say she’d gone out of her way to participate.
Then again, the victim might as well have hailed from another planet. She certainly didn’t envy Joshua’s job. Of course, he had the law on his side, and that opened doors, but it wouldn’t necessarily loosen tongues.
Yes, a different world… If Charles Granger hadn’t made himself available by mingling with regular people, she would never have met him. The Winthrop family lived in the area but they maintained a safe, secluded distance using their social standing as an impregnable barrier.
“Mediterranean Roasted Artichokes,” Wadsworth announced as he set the dishes in front of them.
Charles frowned. “Are we buying artichokes all the way from the Mediterranean?”
“No, my Lord. We are simply calling them that. Much more appropriate than saying Artichokes from Fred Wilson’s farm down the Road.”
“I see. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for international trade. Give and take. But I’d prefer to buy my food locally. It used to be that we’d only eat strawberries in summer time. Now they’re available all year round. Call me old-fashioned, but I feel it takes away the anticipation.”
“Wadsworth. This smells divine,” Faith said.
Wadsworth turned to thank her and, as he did, Abby noticed he turned his whole body.
“Are you all right, Wadsworth?” Abby asked. “You look… slightly stiff.”
“Thank you for asking, Miss Maguire. I’m afraid I had a slight mishap today. I stretched to reach a high shelf and pulled a muscle. I should be fine in a day or two.”
“You should take care of it, Wadsworth,” Charles grumbled. “We can’t have you walking around lopsided.”
Abby noticed Faith looking down at her plate and the cutlery at either side. Abby nudged her under the table with her foot and broke off a piece of the artichoke with her fingers.
Her fine dining experience remained limited to the times she had taken her mom out to dinner for a special birthday and a few dinners organized by employers who could afford the expense. However, Abby had always been a sponge, absorbing information as if by osmosis. So, she knew there were a few items on the menu that didn’t require the use of utensils; asparagus, artichokes… hors d’oeuvres and some others she couldn’t remember.
“I think we’ve driven Miffi Howsen to drink,” Joshua remarked. “After interviewing Laurie Meadows, I stopped by Miffi’s house to ask her a few more questions and she could barely string a sentence together. Strangely, she had no trouble standing upright.”
Abby grinned. “That would have been after Joyce called on her and she stopped by Miffi’s after I visited her. Any more visits from any one of us and she might start rethinking her stay in this so-called quiet little town.”
Wadsworth appeared and removed the entrée dishes. Moments later, he reappeared carrying a large silver platter which he set on a side table. Other silver platters followed. With everything in place, he began the elaborate process of serving.
The plate he set in front of Abby made her mouth water.
“Genoa Style Stuffed Pork Loin.”
Abby managed to say, “Thank you. It looks… scrumptious.”
“Wadsworth,” Charles said. “Genoa?”
“Yes, my Lord. With all due respect, my Lord, cook feels it is about time you get over it.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we just hold a Venetian Ball. Surely, that is a sign I am getting over it.” Charles held his gaze for a long minute. After which, he shrugged. “Fine. Yes. I suppose it really is about time. Carry on, Wadsworth.”
Abby bided her time, waiting for someone to ask. But no one appeared to be inclined to speak up.
Luckily, Charles did. “My apologies. That must have sounded odd. I’ve been off my Italian cuisine since an unfortunate encounter with a mezzo soprano… Well, it’s all behind me now.” Taking a bite, Charles looked over his shoulder. “Wadsworth. Where did this pig come from?”
“Not Genoa, my Lord. Mr. Hodges continues to provide the estate with very fine pork.”
“Oh, I know him,” Faith piped in. “He supplies the local pub too.”
“It’s what I love most about this small town,” Sebastian offered. “Everyone has access to the finest produce. I always know I’ll eat well when I visit.”
Abby tried to keep up with the conversation. While she’d been intrigued to hear of a possible liaison with an Italian opera singer, her mind kept playing around with the notion of the Winthrop family hiding something.
Sebastian looked at Abby. “Have you thought of any new leads?”
Abby told him about visiting the spa. “Marigold complained of a rash.” Looking at Joshua, she asked, “Is that something you looked into?”
He nodded. “The coroner said she looked sunburned. He thinks the exposure to the toxin happened over time and quite possibly in small doses.”
Enough to go undetected until it was too late. “Surely that means you’re looking at someone within the household.”
He nodded but didn’t say more.
They spent the rest of the meal discussing the weather and local politics, which involved expressing opinions on the development of a parcel of land near the town. It seemed someone had come up with the idea of building apartments but there had been some issues with obtaining approval for the buildings.
“We don’t want eyesores,” Faith murmured.
Since Abby didn’t know much about the subject, she kept her focus on her meal. Every now and then, she looked up and watched Wadsworth maneuvering his way around the room with minimal movements.
Abby set her fork down prompting everyone to look at her.
“Is something wrong?” Faith asked and, leaning in, whispered, “I found a peppercorn in my pork, but I caught it in ti
me and set it aside.”
“The meal is fine,” Abby said absently. Turning to Joshua, she took a moment to let the idea in her mind take shape. Becoming impatient with herself, she blurted out, “Mattress.”
“Is this one of your word games?” Charles asked. “I’ve heard about the games you play with your mom.”
“No, I actually meant to say mattress.” Abby explained how she’d asked to look around the Winthrop house and how she’d had the opportunity to look under Marigold’s bed. “Before coming down today, I looked under my bed.”
“Oh,” Charles exclaimed. “I hope you didn’t find any dust bunnies. Wadsworth had a hard time training the last cleaner. She used to sweep everything under the bed.”
“The bed, or rather, the mattress had a new smell to it.”
Charles nodded. “You’re sleeping in one of the new guest bedrooms. I’ve been living here for several years but haven’t had the time to devote to the rest of the house. Some rooms remain unfurnished.”
“Well, Marigold’s mattress had that new smell too.”
Joshua’s eyebrows drew down.
“I think you need to go back to the Winthrop estate,” Abby suggested.
Chapter Sixteen
“We’ll have our coffee in the sunroom, Wadsworth.” Turning to the others, Charles added, “It’s a full moon tonight. We should get a nice view of it.”
As they made their way, Faith fell in step with Abby. Grabbing her arm, she whispered, “He had an affair with an Italian opera singer. I guess it must have ended badly for him to go off his Italian cuisine.”
Abby whispered back, “I don’t remember him traveling. She must have come here. I can’t wait to tell Joyce. She obviously doesn’t know about it otherwise she would have mentioned it.”
As they strode into the sunroom where they’d had lunch earlier that day, Faith said, “Wow. It’s like the planetarium. Look how bright the stars are.”
The full moon had only just begun to rise behind a copse of pine trees. Wadsworth lit a few candles and poked the fire sending the flames into a mesmerizing dance.