He nodded. “Yes, we're all Tafts. You're Kellan, right?”
I asked him how his family was doing, and he noted they were all grieving in their own private ways. “I've spent a lot of time looking through photo albums and some videos we took years ago. I don't know what I'm gonna do without her,” Sam replied. He wore a pair of navy-blue running shorts and a Nike t-shirt whose sweat stains clearly showed he'd been on the trail for a long time. Was he working off grief or guilt?
“It takes time. I still reminisce about my grandpop who's been gone close to ten years,” I said feeling nostalgic for the past. “Looks like you know what you're doing out here.”
“I'm a health nut. I've seen what poor diet and little exercise can do to people and don't want to throw away the future. I've got lots of hopes and dreams.” Sam stopped jogging in place and checked his phone. He had something else in his pocket, but I couldn't tell what it was. I looked like a small cylinder or bottle filled with liquid. It almost reminded me of a tube of glue which seemed odd for him to be carrying on a run. He smiled when his phone beeped indicating he had a text message. I was too far away to see any of the words or name of the sender.
“Someone brightening your day?” I said noticing the change in his demeanor. “Girlfriend, I presume?” I knew it was nosy of me, but I had to find out a little more about him.
“Um, not exactly. Listen, I gotta go. I'm meeting my mom to help her plan the funeral service. Take it easy,” Sam replied. It was the second time he looked awkward or nervous talking to me. I watched him take off toward the more treacherous path at a speed I could definitely not keep up with. Granted, he had ten years on me, but he was also most definitely at the top of his game.
Five minutes before I got home, my cell rang. “It's your grandmother. Get over to the Paddington estate pronto. That sheriff's crew is here with a warrant to search the house. Sheriff Montague is on her way here now,” Nana D said in a clearly aggravated tone.
“Did you call a lawyer? What's she looking for?” I asked while speeding a little faster than I should've. I needed to shower before going to the estate.
“Eustacia called Lindsey. He may have retired years ago, but he'll know what to do. I can't read that mumbo jumbo legal speak. It could've said something about searching for a witch riding a broom in her pink polka-dot daisy dukes and sports brassiere for all I know, brilliant one.”
“I'll be there in thirty minutes. Who's handling the Paddington legal affairs?” I pulled into the driveway and jogged up the back steps to the Royal Chic-Shack laughing about her unique expressions.
Nana D explained she didn't know which attorney was working for them anymore. I suggested she call Finnigan Masters who'd handled my parents' legal affairs over the last few years. I'd met him once before when I had to sign a document for them, but now that I was back in Braxton, I should re-connect with the man. I'd gone to school with his younger brother who'd become a professional hockey player. After a shower and change of clothes, I hightailed it to the Paddington estate.
Given how unlucky I'd been lately, of course the first person I ran into in the small parking area outside the mansion was April Montague. Her nearly translucent skin, brassy blonde Viking helmet hair, as I liked to call it, and high cheekbones were so prominent, I couldn't help but stare. “Good morning, sheriff. How's everything going today?” I said with the fakest smile I could muster. It sounded like I had marbles in my mouth given how much I didn't want to speak with the insufferable woman.
“I might have guessed you'd show up, Little Ayrwick. Please tell me you're here to mow the lawn or scoop off the algae and pond scum?” April taunted me wearing her favorite worn blazer and starched jeans. She was not one who should be casting judgment.
“I'm visiting an old friend, that's all. Ms. Paddington and I have some business to discuss about the upcoming King Lear performance. You might not know this, but I'm their representative on anything connected to the drama department or the Play House.” I considered reaching my hand in her direction despite her callous wisecrack about gardening responsibilities. “What brings you here?”
“You've exceeded my expectations, I must say. Back for only three weeks and clearly embedded with the Paddingtons and the Stantons as if you were their trained pet. I hear you were even present when Gwendolyn died of that unfortunate heart attack the other day,” Sheriff Montague said with a half-smile and sneer. Her jaw was set so tightly I thought she might chip a cap.
“Surely, it couldn't have been a heart attack if you're at the estate with a warrant to search the premises. Anything I should be concerned about?” I pinched myself in excitement for proving my point.
“Other than getting back into your car and driving off the property so I can do my job? Last I checked, you didn't pass the Pennsylvania BAR. I see no reason for you to remain.” She shut the passenger door to the sheriff's county vehicle. It was good to see her arriving in something other than her motorcycle. Although the thought of a woman riding a Harley excited me for some reason, picturing April Montague on it made me nauseous. Exorcist-level nauseous.
I tilted my head to the side and sighed. “I can't keep the Paddingtons waiting. Why don't we arrive together as a show of good faith? After you.” I pointed toward the house like a flight attendant.
Once Bertha let us inside, we entered the foyer. “Kellan, it's so lovely to see you again,” she said. After we hugged and exchanged thoughts about Nana D's peach crumble, Sheriff Montague interrupted. “I always said you had a gift for gab, Little Ayrwick. Since you know the place so well, how about you navigate me in the direction of my team.”
I declined, having little energy to continue our banter. As the sheriff went off with Bertha, I located Nana D. “What's going on?”
“They showed up an hour ago with a warrant to search the place. Lindsey just got here and said it's all legal. They have reasonable cause that someone drugged Gwennie at the theater, but apparently they suspect something's been going on for weeks,” Nana D said in a fury as we navigated the hallways toward the Great Hall. “I can't believe no one noticed what was happening.”
“Lindsey knows one of the cops from past cases. He shared more than he should've, but I'm glad he did. There was something erratic or amiss with various counts and numbers in Gwennie's blood chemistry. Some whippersnapper hootenanny talk, if you ask me. All I know is what Brad said makes sense—he was right to bring her to the doctor this week. If only he had the chance.”
“What exactly happened at the theater to cause her to finally succumb?” I asked filling with genuine concern for the whole family.
“An overdose of cocaine. Huge amounts in her body from the preliminary results of the autopsy. I have a call into Alex to find out what he knows.” Alex, better known as Dr. Alexander Betscha, was Nana D's forty-year-old distant cousin, who served as a physician for most of Braxton's inhabitants.
“Did you learn who the family's attorney is now? Where's everyone?” I looked back and forth.
“Nope. Ophelia's with Sam at the funeral parlor planning the services. I don't think Eustacia's called them yet. Dana lives on campus. Lilly comes and goes so much, no one ever knows where she is.”
“What about Jennifer or Richard?” I asked.
“Richard's away. Jennifer doesn't live here. It was just Eustacia home when the cops showed up. She rang me, and I rushed over. That's when I contacted you and told her to call Lindsey.”
Eustacia walked down the hall balancing on her cane and shouting at us. “Disaster. This entire town and family is a sheer disaster. Is that Kellan? What's he got to report? Did he figure out who killed Gwennie yet? What the devil is taking him so long?”
Unfortunately, Sheriff Montague was following Eustacia down the hall when she had her outburst. “Excuse me, Ms. Paddington. Can you explain why Kellan would be figuring out who killed Gwendolyn? First of all, he's not a member of the Wharton County Sheriff's Office. Second, how does he know it was murder when I haven't made it public
knowledge. No one is to know anything about this crime until I say so.”
It was at that moment I knew I'd be punished no matter if I had behaved or misbehaved. The world liked to torture me, which meant I had to find a way to accept it and move on. “Well, you see, Sheriff Montague, it sorta goes like this…”
Chapter 8
“Close your mouth. I'm getting tired of you showing up everywhere I am,” the sheriff began to shout until another voice interrupted her tirade leading us to all turn around at the same time and see who it'd come from.
Millard stepped into the hallway and demanded that everyone calm down. He ushered us back into the Great Hall where we all took seats near the palm trees and kidney-shaped pond. A submerged plant that looked like a Venus fly-trap floated past me as I walked by. “What's that one?” I asked wondering if it were about to snap at my fingers. How could I dunk the sheriff?
“Water wheel plant. Rare species, not usually in North America. I've been able to keep it alive through a proper feeding schedule,” Millard noted. After what must have been a puzzled or concern expression appeared on my face, he continued, “They're carnivorous. I have to supply them with meat.”
“How fitting,” the sheriff added with a sinister glower in my direction. I also hear her mutter under her breath “Must be a friend of Little Ayrwick's.” Yikes, we really had it out for each other.
“How about we try starting this conversation all over again, sheriff?” Millard said.
“Please explain what is going on, Little Ayrwick,” the sheriff said clearly frustrated and tired of my involvement in her cases and the vigor of the Paddington family.
“Gwendolyn told Nana D and I last Saturday she thought someone had been trying to hurt her. She wasn't feeling well and had some disputes with different family members. I didn't take it seriously at first, but when I went with them to the King Lear dress rehearsal the following day, I noticed a few peculiar behaviors and conversations. When she had the heart attack, it didn't feel right.”
“I asked him to poke around and see if he could figure out what was going on. He's got my authority to be involved,” Eustacia yelled in a cranky voice.
“And as the next mayor, I support it!” Nana rapped her knuckles on the wooden insert in the couch's arms as a misguided display of support.
“That's not how the law works, ladies,” the sheriff replied in an authoritative tone. “Here's how this is going to proceed. All of you will be interviewed this afternoon. My team is collecting evidence around the estate. Your attorney will be notified of everything we take off property. If after these discussions I have any further questions, I will contact you directly. In return, not a single one of you will do anything to search for a potential killer nor discuss the case with anyone. At this point, we believe something suspicious led to Gwendolyn Paddington's death, but we have more tests to run, a full autopsy to complete, and an investigation to conclude.”
“It might be important for you to know we've already started compiling a list of suspects who…” Nana D began but was told to be quiet.
“Can it, Mrs. Danby. All of you are to remain in this room until I call you into the front study for questions. Is that clear?” Sheriff Montague stood and left the room. A few seconds later, Officer Flatman, a young cop with hopes of making detective one day—something I definitely did not see happening soon given my past interactions with him—called Millard into the room. Nana D, Eustacia, and I decided to review our list of suspects, next steps, and theories while we waited. Lindsey was allowed to leave since he wasn't a member of the household or the family, but he was staying put until Finnigan showed up.
I narrowed my gaze at Eustacia and Nana D. “I've agreed to help you with this only because you're forcing me to do so, but I am staying out of April Montague's path. You will interact with her if there are any questions this time—not me. Is that clear?” Both nodded. “Okay. Who's tracking down the will to understand what motives might exist?”
Eustacia volunteered for that effort. “I've got power-of-attorney. Lindsey told me Finnigan Masters is the attorney he recommended to Charles years ago. Charles and Gwendolyn both had wills on file with him. All I need to do is talk with Finnigan later today when he comes by to discuss everything with me. He was in court and couldn't leave until three o'clock.”
“Great, that will cover any motives for an inheritance. Who can talk with Bertha Crawford and Brad Shope to get a clearer picture of all of Gwendolyn's activities, meals, prescriptions and anything else the last few weeks?” I asked looking at Nana D. She'd already connected with both of them since she'd been hanging around the house to support Eustacia during her sister-in-law's death.
Nana D confirmed. “I'll find out what they know. I'll also get the full details from my cousin, Alex, about the autopsy. I owe it to Gwennie to help figure out what happened. And I need to teach that sheriff a lesson she won't forget. No one tells Seraphina Danby to can it!”
I rolled my eyes. “I'd like to meet the whole family again. Can you arrange a lunch or tea for tomorrow when everyone can come by so we can carefully inquire about anything they might know?
Millard walked back in the room as I brought up the family meeting. “I'll handle that one. We have to discuss funeral arrangements with Ophelia anyway, so this will be a perfect opportunity to get everyone together.” He indicated that Eustacia was next to meet with the sheriff. While she was gone, I told Millard and Nana D I'd chat with Arthur. He'd made a few disparaging remarks about Gwendolyn and had several run-ins with her in the past. As far as I was concerned, he should be on the suspect list.
By the time I finished writing out everyone's responsibilities, it was my time to see the sheriff. I luckily got away fairly unscathed but also hadn't learned anything new. She reminded me to stay out of the investigation which I, of course, agreed to do while crossing my fingers behind my back. At three o'clock, I left to pick up Emma at school. I'd been hoping to have a few minutes with Finnigan, but he was running late from court. I'd have to follow up with him in the future.
Emma and I stopped for a quick bowl of fruit for her and a coffee for me. We discussed her day before she had to go to a gymnastics lesson. I'd arranged for a friend of Eleanor's who had a daughter the same age as Emma to split today's responsibilities for drop off and pick up at the gymnasium. While Emma and I drove to her friend's house, she asked a few questions about her mother.
“Nonna Cecilia says I should still talk about her all the time. It helps keep the memory alive. How come you never talk about her anymore, Daddy?” Emma asked with a curiosity I didn't want to hear.
“When did she say that?” I sincerely hoped Cecilia wasn't forcing her demented plans behind my back. Although everyone complained about their mother-in-law, I knew for a fact mine was the worst.
“She called yesterday to see if I liked my new school. Did you know I can touch my tongue to my nose?” Emma demonstrated it for me and asked if I could, too. I tried but failed miserably. I ended up with drool sliding off my lips and a six-year-old daughter cackling like a goose.
“Does Nonna Cecilia call you often?” I asked preparing to block Cecilia's number from Emma's phone. I'd been against giving Emma her own phone at such a young age, but I realized she was a lot more mature than others. Since my daughter was often going back and forth between my house and her grandparents in LA, and now the same was happening between Nana D, Eleanor, and my parents' house in Braxton, it was useful to be able to reach her easily.
“Almost every day. 'Cept not today. She said she had a big meeting and couldn't use her phone where she was going.” Emma changed the radio station as we pulled up to her friend's house. “We like rock music, Daddy.”
“Okay, that's my favorite, too.” While we waited for her friend, I told Emma that I missed her mother very much and hoped one day in the future to see her again.
“When you're in heaven?” she asked.
I nodded not knowing what else to say. Luckily the rear passenge
r door opened and Emma's new best friend jumped inside. I worked out the details with the girl's mother on when and where to drop Emma off, then drove to the gymnasium. It was a huge facility near the Betscha mines filled with authentic rock-climbing walls, rings hanging from the ceiling, balance beams, and tons of mats on the floor. I verified they were both in the beginner's class and only working on the mats today. I wanted to be present the first time Emma used any of the more intense or dangerous equipment. Thirty minutes later, I arrived at the diner to catch up with my sister.
“You look like you lost your best friend,” Eleanor said while hugging me. “Your horoscopes this week keep warning about a devil consuming every ounce of energy you have left.”
I couldn't agree more. But was the devil Cecilia? Francesca? Myriam? April? One of the Paddingtons? How was I supposed to know how to stop it from happening when I didn't know who it was? “What should I be doing to prevent it?” I asked cautiously fearing the worst.
Eleanor asked me to cut the deck of Tarot cards a few times, then she displayed several in front of me sharing the story of my future. Or my past, I never knew what she was doing with all the numerology and astrology readings she forced on me. “Basically, you're screwed for the next two weeks. Someone's angry and you're going to feel the brunt of it,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Tell me something I don't already know. That's just a fact of my life, sis.”
We both guffawed, then talked about the renovations at the diner. She'd expanded the kitchen and closed up one of the small party rooms in the back corner explaining that no one had ever rented it. Rather than try to include more tables, she'd thought a better kitchen with more state-of-the-art tools and appliances would help drive customers to keep coming back.
“The inspector comes tomorrow morning. If everything goes well, we have a few minor things to finish up, then we can open next week.”
“Not bad, only closed for two weeks. Are you and Maggie able to afford being offline this long?
Broken Heart Attack Page 9
