Murder In New York: A Paranormal Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Nancy McGovern

  “I… it does,” Xander said. “I just… Nolan allowed me. I protect him, right? So… that’s why I’m here.”

  Before Bluebell could ask him about it, Xander had vanished, leaving her staring after him.

  *****

  Chapter 7

  Three Forms of Rage

  Still wondering about Xander’s unusual behavior, Bluebell washed her face, and came back to the room, meeting a confused looking Tiffany in the stairwell.

  “Some of these buildings are so confusing. All white hallways with identical doors,” Tiffany said. “I get lost all the time. If I owned these buildings I’d have them all put up maps everywhere. Oh, and I’d adjust the thermostat. I get so cold here! I’m lucky Wendy agreed to lend me her scarf or I’d be an icicle!”

  By the time they reached the lobby again, Nolan seemed prepared to leave, Brandon Donnerstag, Kurt’s second born son, came up to say goodbye.

  “I’m glad Megan chose you as a life partner,” he said, shaking Nolan’s hand. “No doubt, that was part of the reason that my father decided to leave her in charge of the family business.”

  Megan, who was standing next to Nolan, seemed to wilt at this backhanded “compliment”.

  “Megan’s more capable than all of us combined,” Nolan said, loyally. “Kurt was a very smart man. No wonder he chose Megan over us.”

  “Yes, of course,” Brandon said. “Given her long and excellent track record, Kurt made a wise choice.” His voice didn’t have a trace of sarcasm in it, yet Megan flushed even more, clearly remembering her past failures. “I just hope that you have better luck this time,” Brandon said. “After all, we’ve had too much bad luck already. Of course, I’m always here to guide you in any capacity you want.”

  Megan nodded. “I don’t know how I’ll do it without you, Uncle Brandon. I’d like you to continue on as CEO for now. I’ll work under you for a year, so that we can transition the role slowly.”

  “Transition?” Brandon seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been a brilliant CEO,” Megan said. “In fact, Grandpa told me how proud he was that you’d opened fifteen new stores in foreign lands in your tenure. But now that Grandpa clearly decided that I should take the reins, I’ve decided to resign as Nolan’s partner, and begin work at the Donnerstag Co.”

  “What!” Nolan exclaimed. “Megan, you’re my chief of operations! Where am I supposed to find another person to replace—”

  “You have to understand, Nolan, I’ve had a lot of responsibility thrust on me. I can’t continue with our start up anymore,” Megan said.

  “But you didn’t even tell me—”

  “I didn’t even know about the will until today,” Megan said. “So how could I?”

  “That’s not true, is it?” Wendy, who was standing next to them, looked surprised. “You must have known that…”

  Megan’s eyes narrowed, and Wendy immediately kept quiet.

  “Grandpa wasn’t planning to die for a very long time,” Megan said. “So none of us had ever talked to him about wills or inheritances.”

  “Of course, Wendy must have been very interested in inheritances.” Brandon gave her a sly smile. “Isn’t that right, Wendy?”

  Another woman would have been insulted, or angry. Wendy simply laughed and tossed her hair back. “Oh I gather I was interested, but you were desperate,” she said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Brandon?”

  “Let’s drop the subject. I don’t want to be unpleasant,” Brandon said quietly. In the awkward silence that followed, he said, “Well, Megan, as you say, I’ll have you instated as my deputy for now, and we’ll begin making plans to have you become CEO within a year, once you’ve learned enough to handle the business.”

  “Thank you.” Megan smiled. Nolan deliberately stepped away from her, dropping the hand he had until now held firm. She gave him an agonized look, and he refused to meet her eyes.

  Bluebell, who had been more interested in Wendy than Megan, barely noticed this little interplay. Instead, as Wendy began to move away, she followed her. “Miss Donnerstag,” she exclaimed.

  Wendy turned around, and gave Bluebell the same disinterested look she would have given a pebble in her path. “I’m Wendy, dear. Miss Donnerstag sounds like the name you’d call my spinster aunt, bless her departed soul.”

  “Wendy, then.” Bluebell smiled. “I’m a big fan. I was wondering if…”

  Immediately, Wendy’s face lit up. “An autograph?”

  Fame, Bluebell had often heard, was rather like a drug. It appeared Wendy hadn’t had her fix in a long time. She seemed excessively pleased as Bluebell began to rain praises on her. Bluebell herself thought she was laying it on far too thick, but Wendy seemed to lap it up.

  When she’d finally signed a piece of paper for Bluebell, she began to talk about herself, a stream that never seemed to end. Tale after tale of her days in Hollywood, and the many producers, directors and actors who had courted her.

  “Of course, I’ve heard you have a new film coming up, too,” Bluebell said.

  “Oh, yes. A lovely one.” Wendy nodded. “I’ve spent my younger years doing fun, romantic roles, but now, I’ve finally got a meaty role. Something that I can really sink my teeth into. It’s going to fetch me an Oscar, wait and watch.”

  “I’ve no doubt about it,” Bluebell said. “I thought you were always underutilized in your other roles.”

  “Exactly,” Wendy said. “Besides, the directors never listened to my suggestions. This time, though, it’ll finally be as I want. Now that I’ve got the…” She bit her lip, but Bluebell didn’t need her to say the words to understand them. Now that she actually had the money, she could produce and direct her own film if she wished. She had power that she didn’t have before.

  “Your father always resented your ways, didn’t he?” Bluebell asked.

  “Well, we didn’t get along as well as I would have liked.” Wendy nodded. “Between the two of us, my father was rather an attention hungry sort. He thought he was the centre of the world, and to his credit, in his own way, he was. He always wanted to keep all the attention and power for himself.”

  “Is that why he didn’t allow his sons to do much work in the company?” Bluebell asked.

  “On the contrary, Ray and Brandon have done a lot of work to expand the business. Well, let’s say Brandon’s done 90% of the work, Ray’s done 10%, but Ray’s a natural leader. He expected to inherit everything. Unfortunately...” Wendy said. “I’m not one to usually take their side, but father was frightfully unfair to them. He was unfair to us all, really.”

  “So, do you think one of them murdered Kurt?” Bluebell asked.

  “I don’t know.” Wendy said. “I should hope so, because if it wasn’t Kurt, then it was Megan they were trying to murder.”

  “Yes.” Bluebell nodded. “I keep forgetting that it was Megan’s glass that was tampered with, not Kurt’s, and she’s allergic to peanuts too. No, the murderer must have meant to kill her, because he couldn’t possibly have guessed that Kurt would take the first sip.”

  “Rubbish,” Wendy said. “All of us at that table knew Kurt would take the first sip. Anyone who had eaten a single meal with him would know that he’d take that first sip! It was one of his idiosyncrasies, and it drove us all crazy, but what could we do? If anybody was having something he didn’t have, he’d insist on the first bite or sip, and then, if he liked it enough, he might just steal it all! I was so mad at him when I was 10 and he stole the leftover chocolate cake I’d bought home from my friend’s party.”

  “He sounds quite… eccentric,” Bluebell said.

  “Eccentric? Be honest. He was horrible!”

  “Yet you all loved him,” Bluebell said.

  “Yes, yes. Of course,” Wendy said hurriedly. “I’m absolutely devastated that he’s gone.”

  “Why were you so confident that Megan knew about the will, though?” Bluebell asked.

  Wendy looked unsure, and once again, Bluebell
gave her a little nudge, summoning the magic within her to make Wendy more trusting. Perhaps because Bluebell had praised her earlier, Wendy was far easier to sway than Tiffany had been, and almost immediately began, “It’s because of that conversation I overheard.”

  “Conversation?” Bluebell pressed. “What conversation?”

  “The rest of us live in this building, on the 104th floor. Kurt had a suite up there too, but mostly, Kurt chose to live in the Hamptons on weekdays, and take the helicopter to his office in Manhattan,” Wendy said. “I was visiting Shangri-La, that’s our mansion. This was the day before my father died, or was murdered. I wanted to talk to him about my latest film, see if he was interested in producing it. Well, as it happens, right outside his office, I heard him yelling at someone.”

  “Who?” Bluebell asked.

  “I think he was on the phone, because I only heard father’s voice,” Wendy said. “He was in a rage, I could tell. You see, my father had three degrees of anger. The first was contempt, which came out in sarcasm. This was deployed for relatively minor things, but could cut you to the core. The second was when he got very quiet, and his voice became almost whispery with anger. This was reserved for those who had caused him to lose money, or worse, lose face.”

  “The third?” Bluebell asked.

  “The third was reserved for his very worst enemies,” Wendy said. “Pure unmitigated rage. I’d only heard this once before, years ago, when a rival of his paid a mobster money to threaten him. The rival was an Englishman, who thought America was ripe territory for his own chain of stores. Well, us store-owners are rather territorial, you know. My father reacted with rage, and then, he made it his life’s mission to destroy both the mobster and the rival.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  Wendy smiled “Did he? I don’t know. The mobster was found shot dead, and the rival committed suicide.”

  Bluebell gulped.

  “Not that my father ever got his hands dirty himself,” Wendy said, her voice dreamy. “You understand?”

  “I think I do,” Bluebell said. She understood that every empire ever built rested on the bones of those who had once opposed it. It didn’t please her to know this, however.

  “Well, anyway, on the phone, he was in a rage again.” Wendy said.

  “What was he saying?” Bluebell asked.

  “He was yelling. I remember him saying, ‘You think you’ll control it all? Well I’ll have you know I’m changing my will!’” Wendy said. “He was being particularly vicious. Before he slammed the phone down, he said, ‘As for you, if you think you’re going to escape, you’re dead wrong. You’re going to regret this. Wait and see. I’ve never been duped in my life, and I never will be!’”

  “Duped?” Bluebell exclaimed. “What did he mean duped?”

  Before Wendy could reply, an uproar cut her off.

  “If that’s the way you feel about it, maybe it’s best if I gave up more than just my professional relations with you!” Megan exclaimed.

  Wendy’s head snapped around.

  “Sure! Go ahead!” Nolan said. “If I’d known you were the kind of person who’d dump me over money, I wouldn’t have wasted my time on you in the first place!”

  “Oh, dear,” Wendy whispered to Bluebell. “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”

  Ray was watching them with a wide smile on his face, while Brandon looked horrified. “Please,” he interjected. “Megan, don’t make a scene.”

  “Scene? There’s no scene,” Megan said, holding back tears. “I thought you, of all people, were on my side, Nolan. I thought you loved me!”

  “And I thought you loved me!” Nolan exclaimed. “Come on, Bluebell. I see that us poor folks have no work here. Let’s go.”

  “Nolan,” Bluebell said- “I think we—”

  “Let’s go,” Nolan said. “Now.”

  In a huff, Nolan grabbed Bluebell’s hand and stormed out. His ears had turned very red, and his eyes had a watery look to them. Wisely, Bluebell decided to stay quiet. Xander brought the limo around, and Nolan got in, without even bothering to check if Bluebell had followed him.

  Bluebell stayed silent, knowing how Nolan worked. Sooner or later, he wouldn’t be able to hold in his anger, and it would all come spilling out.

  Halfway up Madison Avenue, Nolan lost his temper when Xander pressed the brakes a little too hard. “Do I pay you to be so terrible at your job?” he exclaimed. “Every other day there’s a new scratch on my car!”

  “Sorry, sir,” Xander said in clipped tones. “I’ll see it doesn’t happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Nolan said. “I’m going to go camp out in the office for a month or two, so I won’t need to drive around much anyway. I’m sick of this. All of it. I should have been focussing on work, instead of letting my mind get distracted by Megan.”

  “Nolan,” Bluebell said.

  “I can’t believe she cared so little about my project!” Nolan exclaimed. “How could she just decide to leave at such a critical juncture? How could she do this to me?”

  “Nolan,” Bluebell interjected.

  “No, Bluebell, I won’t hear a word,” Nolan said.

  “But perhaps you’ll hear the news!” Bluebell said. She’d been fiddling around with the computer he kept in the limo, and turned it around to show him the screen.

  Nolan turned pale. “We have to turn the car around!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe this!”

  “I’m an idiot,” Bluebell said, shaking her head. “I should have guessed something like this would happen!”

  “No one could have guessed!” Nolan said. “Just half an hour ago she was alive and well… and now… she’s dead!”

  “Something tells me this wasn’t a natural death, either,” Bluebell said grimly.

  *****

  Chapter 8

  Murder or Suicide?

  By the time they came back to 5th Avenue, police cars were parked all over the street. In the lobby, Megan’s uncle Ray was being interviewed by two men in suits, while Brandon was talking to a woman with a severe face and a notepad in hand.

  Bluebell talked to a cop, and gave him a little magical nudge so that he revealed more details than he usually would have.

  Tiffany Donnerstag had died, when she either jumped or had been pushed out of the window of her suite on the 104th floor of the skyscraper. The policeman showed her a photo of the crime scene from his phone. Bluebell saw an open window, with an upturned chair next to it, an expensive red scarf trapped under it.

  “Megan?” Nolan stormed in, looking around.

  Xander was right behind him. “This is not good,” Xander said. “This is not good at all.”

  “Nolan!” Megan rushed to them. “Oh, you came! I knew you’d come!”

  “Of course, I came. Baby, I’m sorry,” Nolan said. “I’m sorry I ever said anything to you. Are you all right? You aren’t hurt, right? How did she—”

  “The police think it was suicide.” Megan sniffed. “But… but I don’t think Tiffany would ever kill herself! They say she jumped from the top floor.”

  Wendy, who was nervously smoking one cigarette after the other, said, “I think it’s time we took this seriously. Suicide! Pah!”

  “She had a suicide note on her,” Brandon said, joining them. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but I suppose she did love the old man after all.”

  “Could… do you think I could see the note?” Bluebell asked.

  Brandon looked surprised. “Certainly not. Why would I allow that? Are you some sort of journalist?”

  “Bluebell can be trusted,” Nolan said. “I called her here to find out if Kurt’s death was accidental or not. She has special talents, and she’s a very good friend of mine.”

  Megan, who had been wrapped in Nolan’s arms, scowled at Bluebell. “I don’t see the need to have outsiders interfere in this.”

  “She isn’t an outsider,” Nolan said. “If you trust me, trust her. She’s been my best friend since I was a ch
ild. She’s been there for me through some of the toughest times in my life.”

  “And vice versa.” Bluebell smiled.

  “I’m sure.” Megan scowled again. “But I’m not comfortable with her poking her nose into this. Nolan, the police are handling it.”

  “Maybe it won’t be a bad idea to have her see the note though,” Wendy said. “For that matter, I’d like to see it too.”

  “Very well.” Brandon sighed. “Give me a minute.” After a few minutes, he came back, and showed them a photo of the letter on his phone. “The police wouldn’t let me have the original, naturally, but they were willing to let me take a photo.”

  Bluebell read:

  X

  The world is a cruel place, but it won’t keep us apart anymore. I have only ever loved you, and I will soon be free of all my constraints. I’m coming straight to you, and no force on heaven or earth will keep me away.

  I have a lot of regrets in my life, but loving you is not one of them.

  Tiffany

  “Are the police crazy!” Megan exclaimed. “This reads like a love letter to me, not a suicide note!”

  “It depends on who you think she addressed this to,” Nolan pointed out. “If she was mad with grief and had addressed it to your grandfather, it sounds like she intended on killing herself to be with him.”

  “Well she certainly wasn’t mad with grief,” Megan said. “She was appropriately sad that the 87 year old man she married was dead, but she wasn’t about to go killing herself of grief. She’d just inherited a bunch of money! If anything, the police should be looking into who stood to benefit.”

  “So you think she was cheating on your grandfather?” Bluebell asked.

  “We’ve always known she was a gold digger,” Wendy said. “So why is it so surprising to discover that she was cheating on him? The thing to do is find out who this lover is and have him thrown into jail. No doubt he’s angling for the inheritance.”

  Bluebell bit her lip. “I don’t think we need look very far,” she said. “For now, who’s the last person to talk to Tiffany?”