Penny tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the tray. “They’re called ‘blinis.’ They’re Russian, made out of buckwheat. Can you hand me one?”
“Olivia also told me about her favorite soup—borscht,” Scooter said. “She seems to know a lot about Russian food.”
“She does,” Penny agreed. “She told me there was a Russian deli near her apartment in New York City that she would always go to.” She grabbed another blini, then flitted off to speak with some friends.
“We really need to get that Russian note translated,” I said to Scooter.
“Why don’t you ask Olivia?” he suggested. “Seems like she might know some Russian.”
“She’s a suspect,” I said. “Now that we know it’s written in Russian, I’m not sure if it’s connected to Chief Tyler or Gregor. If it’s connected to Gregor, I don’t want her to realize that we have it.”
“But Sawyer saw it, and the two of them are friends. She may have already told her about it.”
“That’s a really good point,” I said. “We’ll make an investigator out of you yet.” I pointed at the reception desk by the old train station ticket kiosk. “I see Sawyer over there. I’m going to talk to her and find out if she said anything to Olivia.”
“Did you want to sign up for an art class?” Sawyer asked as I approached the desk.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea. I can’t even draw stick figures,” I said.
She opened up a brochure and pointed at a picture of a group of smiling people holding up small paintings. “None of these people knew how to draw either before they took lessons from Thomas.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you come to the presentation tomorrow night? Some local artists are going to talk about different painting techniques and Thomas is going give an overview of the classes we offer. It’ll be fun.” She handed me a clipboard. “Here’s the sign-up form.”
“It says on here that Anabel and Victoria are going to be speaking.”
“Uh-huh. Thomas spoke with both of them today and arranged it. Let’s get you signed up.” She opened one of the desk drawers and looked inside. “There’s a pen around here somewhere.” After pulling out a stack of papers from another drawer, she muttered, “Gregor left this place a mess. I can’t find anything.”
“I bet things were more organized when you worked here,” I said.
“You bet they were,” she replied as she hunted through another drawer.
“So, why did he fire you?” I asked.
Sawyer looked taken aback, then she leaned forward. “Between you and me, he was a bit of a creep. He made a pass at me. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he told me that he no longer had need of my services.”
“Was this when Victoria and he were dating?” I asked.
“Knowing his reputation, probably. But I’m not sure when the two of them started seeing each other. He certainly kept that under wraps.”
As she placed a pack of highlighters on the desk, she knocked the stack of papers on the floor. I picked them up and sorted through them as I set them back down. Maybe there was some sort of clue in Gregor’s old papers that would point to his murderer. Most of the papers were boring—letters from art dealers, bills from the electric company, and contracts with local artists.
“These look like receipts,” I said, holding up a stack held together with a paper clip. “This one has those funny Cyrillic letters.”
Sawyer grabbed it from my hand. “Yep. Looks Russian.”
“Did you tell Olivia about the note I showed you last night, by any chance?” I asked.
“No. Why?”
“No reason.” I handed her another receipt. “What about this one? Is it Russian too?”
“This one is in French,” she said. “It looks like it’s from Tahiti. Something to do with a cane, I think. My French is really rusty.” She pulled out her phone. “Let’s run it through a translator.” She peered at the screen. “Yep. It’s for a cane. Victoria’s name and address is on top. It looks like she bought a walking cane and had it shipped to the States. Ooh. This is interesting. It says something about a knife hidden in the handle. Oh, my goodness. That was what killed Gregor, wasn’t it?”
“You know about that?” I asked.
“Ben told me about it when the gang was at the Tipsy Pirate having drinks last night.” She put her finger to her lips. “Actually, he told me to keep that to myself. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“It’s our little secret,” I said before plucking the receipt from her hand. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
She shrugged. “Fine by me. This is all going to get tossed, anyway.”
I took a moment to sip another glass of champagne and consider everything I had learned in that short period of time. Thomas was hiding something, possibly the fact that he had murdered Gregor. Victoria had purchased the murder weapon. Olivia had some knowledge of Russian, or at least of Russian food. And Sawyer had refused Gregor’s advances, which was why he fired her. It was all a bit overwhelming.
Normally, I liked to bounce ideas off of Scooter, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Ned and Nancy. The older woman was pointing at a fire extinguisher. I could only imagine the scintillating discussion they were having about the regulations governing how many fire extinguishers you needed per square foot.
I wandered out to the train platform to get some fresh air and clear my head. The only problem was that the air wasn’t very fresh. Victoria was pacing back and forth, a cigarette in hand. When she spotted me, she held up her pack. “Want one?”
“No, thanks,” I said, stifling a cough. “I don’t smoke.”
“Smart. It’s a nasty habit.”
“Should you be smoking?” I asked. “I thought you were sick?”
“I probably shouldn’t be. This is actually the first one I’ve had in months.” She took a drag. “Stress, I guess.”
“Are you stressed out because your fiancé died?” I asked.
“I’m actually happy he’s dead now,” she said, spitting out the words. “Turns out he was married.”
“You didn’t know?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “I wouldn’t have dated a married man.”
“You must regret buying him that expensive cane from Tahiti,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I didn’t buy that for him.”
I pulled the receipt out of my purse. “Are you sure about that?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine. I bought it for him.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked.
“You know what the police are like. They would have jumped to conclusions.”
“You mean they would have accused you of murder?”
“Exactly.”
“But you just said that you’re glad he’s dead.”
She threw her cigarette butt on the ground and stamped it out with her heel. “Sure, I’m glad he’s dead, but I didn’t kill him.” As she turned to leave, she said over her shoulder. “The police already have the right woman under suspicion.”
“You mean Anabel?” I asked incredulously.
She nodded, then walked back inside. Thoughts of what the chief had said about Gregor blackmailing Anabel kept popping into my mind. It couldn’t be her, I told myself firmly. But why did a nagging voice in my head keep telling me not to be blinded by friendship?
* * *
When I woke up the next morning, my first thought was to check and see if Chief Dalton had called back. After Victoria admitted she had bought the cane for Gregor, I had left an urgent message for the chief. I was surprised that I hadn’t heard anything back yet—this was the breakthrough in the case we had been hoping for.
I looked for my phone in all the usual places—by the bed, in my purse, and under the table where Mrs. Moto sometimes hid it. It was nowhere to be found. “Where did it go?” I asked the calico. She was too preoccupied batting aro
und one of those plastic milk bottle rings to pay any attention to me.
I poured another cup of coffee and tried to reconstruct my movements from the previous night. Victoria had fessed up, then left the gallery in a hurry, claiming she didn’t feel well. I had grabbed another one of those delicious kebabs and watched while Thomas ran after her. The kebab in hand, I had scooted out the door and followed them at a discreet distance. I tucked myself behind a large Snow White topiary and kept my eye on them while they had a very interesting argument.
“I can’t keep covering for you,” Thomas said, grabbing her elbow. “It’s causing a strain on my relationship with Jim.”
Victoria pulled her arm away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you that night,” he said. “I’ve done everything I could to try to protect you, but the lies are starting to catch up with me.”
“Protect me? Hah! All you want to do is protect yourself.” She waved her hands at the old railway station. “Looks like it’s all worked out nicely for you. You have your gallery back.” She pulled her keys out of her purse. “Just leave me alone. I don’t want anything else to do with you. You didn’t even tell me Gregor was married.”
“I did too, but you were too stubborn to believe me. You wanted to believe that he had divorced his wife.”
Victoria pointed her keys at him, started to say something, then stormed off without finishing her thought.
“We’re family. I only want to help,” he yelled after her. He looked deflated as he watched her pull out of the parking lot without a further word.
After their argument, I had paced around Snow White and the seven smaller dwarf topiaries while I thought about what I had heard. Victoria had definitely done it. Thomas had witnessed it and was covering it up. I remembered calling the chief again at that point and leaving another voice message. After hanging up, I had caught my heel in a grate. When I bent down to free it, I stumbled and fell.
Aha! That was it. I must have dropped my phone by the topiaries. I grabbed my purse and told Mrs. Moto to be a good girl while I was gone, then sped back to Coconut Creations.
When I got there, I noticed a few cars in the parking lot. It was too early for the gallery to be open. Most likely, some of the guests who had too much champagne had arranged alternative transportation home. After a brief search, I found my phone next to Pinocchio. While I was listening to my messages, I noticed that one of the vehicles looked like Victoria’s.
What was she doing here? Was she meeting Thomas? While I called the chief back, I looked around to see if I could spot Thomas’ car. Was that black sedan his?
“It’s Mollie,” I said after being put through to the chief’s voicemail. “Call me back when you get this. I’m at the art gallery. Actually, scratch that. Get down here right away. And bring your handcuffs so you can arrest Victoria.”
While I waited for backup, I heard a loud crash that sounded like it came from behind the old train station. I tiptoed around the topiaries until I reached the side of the building. My back flat against the brickwork, I inched my way down to the corner, then peeked my head around.
A large gray cat was crouched on one of the wooden benches running the length of the platform. He was staring down proudly at the shards of a broken ceramic statue. As he extended his paw to push another one on the feline gnomes to the ground, I waved my arms at him. He stared at me for a moment, then nonchalantly hopped down and batted at the shards. Before I could shoo him away, he streaked past me, leapt down onto the railway bed, and then sauntered across the abandoned tracks.
I watched as his fluffy gray tail disappeared behind some old weeds, then looked back at the platform. That’s when I noticed a broken statue wasn’t the only thing lying on the platform. There was also a gun. And next to the gun was a body. Victoria’s body.
13
Magic Beans
I heard sirens blaring in the background. When I had left a voice message for Chief Dalton to meet me at the gallery, I didn’t expect him to bring the cavalry. But seeing Victoria’s lifeless body, it seemed like a good call on his part.
While I waited for the squad car to arrive, I had a closer look at the poor woman. I shook my head at the pack of cigarettes and lighter next to her. Turns out it wasn’t smoking that ended up killing her. The silver lighter was interesting. It looked like an antique with some sort of engraving. As I bent down to have a closer look, I noticed a piece of folded paper tucked under the pack of cigarettes. I reached into my purse and took out a pencil. As I was using the pencil to pull the paper out from underneath the cigarettes, I heard someone walk up behind me.
“What exactly are you doing, Mrs. McGhie?”
I turned and saw Chief Dalton standing behind me. Ever since Anabel had been arrested, the chief had started to be more relaxed around me, even calling me by my first name. I wondered what had caused him to revert to his previous, formal, stiff demeanor. Then I saw the deputy next to him. Ah, it was probably for show. He didn’t want his deputy to realize the two of us had become friends.
“I wanted to see what was on this paper, but I didn’t want to contaminate the evidence, hence the pencil,” I said. “But now that you’re here, do you mind handing me a pair of gloves, Tiny?”
The burly man pursed his lips. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back, ma’am. Deputy, would you mind escorting Mrs. McGhie inside and have her wait there until I’m ready to take her statement?”
As I stood, he leaned toward me and hissed, “By the way, it’s Chief Dalton, not Tiny.” Then he stepped back. “I’ll be with you shortly, ma’am.”
I waited inside the art gallery on one of the overstuffed couches. Dirty dishes and empty champagne bottles were scattered on the various tables. Apparently, the cleaning crew hadn’t been in yet. Around thirty minutes later, the chief walked in the room and sat next to me. He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open.
“What time did you discover Miss Williams?” he asked without even as much as a glance at me.
“Right after I phoned you,” I said.
He scratched down a note. “And when was that, ma’am?”
“Pull out your phone and check it,” I snapped.
“Let’s try another question. What were you doing at the art gallery?”
I clenched my fists. “I told you in my message. I came here to look for my phone.”
“The same phone you allegedly called me from?”
“What the heck is wrong with you?” I asked. “Can you put your pen down and tell me what’s going on. Who killed Victoria?”
He flipped over a page in his notebook. “Why do you think it was murder?”
“Because we’ve been investigating a murder. Remember? Gregor’s murder? Victoria was a suspect and now she’s dead. The killer must have decided she was a danger to them and offed her.”
“Do I need to remind you again, Mrs. McGhie, that you are not a member of the police force? Leave the investigating to the professionals.”
“But, you were the one who asked me to help clear Anabel’s name!” I took a few deep breaths, trying to recall Thomas’ relaxation exercise. I was worried that I was going to start developing high blood pressure myself given the chief’s attitude toward me. As I exhaled, I looked at the burly man. “I don’t get what’s come over you, I really don’t. I’d think you’d want to get to the bottom of Victoria’s murder before someone tries to pin this one on Anabel as well.”
Chief Dalton put his notebook down on the couch and walked over to where his deputy was standing by the door. They had a quiet discussion, then the deputy handed him a plastic evidence bag and went outside.
“It wasn’t murder,” the chief said as he handed the bag to me. “It was suicide. She left a note.”
I gasped as I read what Victoria had written:
Dear Thomas - You were right. I can’t allow someone else to be falsely accused for what I did. I was the one who killed Gregor. I was angry about the affairs h
e was having with other women while we were seeing each other. When he proposed to me at Warlock’s Manor, I believed that he had changed.
During the night, I woke up with a headache and went into the bathroom to get a painkiller. Gregor had left his phone on the sink. I picked it up and saw that he had a text message. I know I shouldn’t have, but I read it and that’s when I discovered he was married. It was from his wife asking when he was coming home. I started sobbing.
Gregor heard me and came into the bathroom. He told me to be quiet otherwise I would wake everyone up. He talked me into going outside to discuss things. As we walked down the dock, he promised me that he was getting a divorce, but I knew he was lying. In my anger I pushed him and he dropped his cane. As I grabbed it, I remembered how I had given it him it as a gift. I don’t know what came over me, but I was so angry that I…well, you know what happened. I killed him.
I can’t live with the pain anymore—the pain of knowing what I did and the pain of knowing that Gregor never loved me. Soon, I won’t have to live with this pain anymore.
I handed the letter back to the chief. “Wow,” was all I could think to say.
“As you can see, there’s no need for an investigation. This is cut and dry,” the chief said stiffly. Then he added in a gentler voice, “I did appreciate your help and how you went to bat for Anabel, but we can put this to bed now. Things are back to normal.”
He picked up his notebook and got up from the couch. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “What’s he doing here?”
I twisted my body to see what was going on. Chief Tyler was standing in the entryway. He was wearing a similar outfit to when I had seen him on Destiny Key—olive green shorts and a lighter green shirt—except this time, he was sporting a shiny badge and a police belt.
“Dalton,” he said as he chewed on a toothpick.
“Tyler,” was the Coconut Cove chief of police’s terse response.
“I understand you’ve had some excitement here,” Chief Tyler said.
“Don’t you have enough excitement on Destiny Key?”
Dead in the Dinghy Page 16
