“Only because it’s a volunteer opportunity. Upkeep on one of the local historic sites,” Bernadette said. “I’m not much for gardening, as you know, but I like to help out with those sorts of things.”
“I’m sure the town appreciates it,” I replied, before wishing them a good evening. Once they were out of earshot, I turned to Ellen. “I’m just glad, if what Gavin tells me is correct, that Ophelia’s no longer in any danger.”
Ellen lifted her glass and took a long swig. “As am I,” she said, thumping the empty tumbler down on the bar. She glanced over at me, her blue eyes cloudy. “I know you probably think less of me after you learned how Isabella and I used Ophelia, and honestly, I don’t blame you. But at the time …”
“You thought it was necessary. Yes, I know.” I absently tugged on my dress strap. “I have to admit I was taken aback when I heard about the situation with Ophelia, but”—I shrugged—“I decided I shouldn’t allow that to destroy our friendship. Especially since I can tell you’re truly remorseful.”
“Remorseful about what?” Scott called out as he and Julie walked up to the bar, arm-in-arm. “Don’t tell me you’ve had one too many, Ellen.”
“Wouldn’t really matter,” Julie said, flashing a smile. “You can easily stagger home, and even have an escort.” She flung out her free hand to indicate Gavin, who had strolled up beside her.
“I’m sure I won’t need any such assistance,” Ellen said, her expression stiff as starched linen.
Damian, crossing the patio with a bucket of ice swinging from one hand, stopped to look over our little group. “Seems like everyone could use another drink,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows.
“Not for us. We need to leave, I’m afraid,” Scott said. “Julie’s arranged for us to meet some people for dinner.”
Julie’s face brightened. “A possible investor in the bookshop. Someone who wants to put in some money but remain hands-off. My kind of sugar daddy,” she added, with a grin.
“Hey now, I didn’t think that was part of the deal.” Scott’s answering grin told me that he wasn’t concerned about the situation.
“One never knows,” Julie said airily. She rose on her toes and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Of course you know we’re only kidding around,” she told the rest of us.
“I should hope so,” Ellen said, her expression still a little troubled.
I thought I knew why, but of course had no intention of mentioning my late great-aunt’s liaison with Paul Peters. Although she had actually been under orders to play a role and keep tabs on him for U.S. intelligence, a lot of her peers might have assumed he was Isabella’s “sugar daddy.” Something her handler, Ellen, knew and had encouraged, on orders from her agency masters.
After Julie and Scott left, Damian fixed another round of drinks for Gavin, Ellen, and me. “Wouldn’t do that if you weren’t walking home,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll cart some of these bottles and glasses back inside. Alicia said she wants to start up the dishwasher sooner rather than later.” He filled a couple of wire baskets and carried them in through the back-porch door.
“So it’s just us,” Gavin glanced from me to Ellen and back again. He lifted his drink. “What should we toast to? Keeping secrets?”
I clinked the rim of my glass against Ellen’s tumbler. “And uncovering them.”
“I’ll drink to that one,” she said, shooting Gavin a haughty look. “I’m out of the secret keeping game now, you know.”
Gavin examined her for a moment before tapping his own glass against hers. “My instincts tell me otherwise, but we can pretend if you want.”
I sipped my drink and said nothing. In this chess game, I knew I was outclassed.
* * *
Tony checked out the next morning, thanking me for my hospitality without looking me in the eye. He scuttled out the front door, clutching his suitcase like a lifeline.
That left me with two guests. Alicia, who’d made waffles from scratch, grumbled over the fact that while both Amanda and Harper had come down for breakfast, they’d only toyed with their food.
“Fresh berry compote barely touched,” she said, holding out the offending bowl while I checked the percolator.
“I’m sure they appreciate it, but there’s only two of them and neither eats that much, from what I’ve seen,” I replied, keeping my tone mild. “I’m going to take in some more coffee and see if they’re really done,” I added, pouring some into a serving carafe.
I placed the carafe, along with extra sugar and cream, on a tray and carried it into the dining room. As I set the tray on an adjacent table, I observed Amanda and Harper examining a brightly colored tourist map of the area.
“What do you think, Charlotte?” Harper asked, looking up at me with her icy eyes. “Amanda thinks we should spend our last evening in Beaufort participating in a ghost tour of that historical cemetery.”
“The Old Burying Ground? It is a fascinating local attraction. If you haven’t seen it yet, I’d say it was worth a visit.” I motioned toward the coffee tray. “Can I get either of you a refill?”
Both women agreed. As I poured out the coffee I glanced over their shoulders at the map. “Does it say what time the tours happen? I don’t remember seeing that.”
Amanda stirred cream into her coffee and took a sip before replying. “I checked on it yesterday with the Historical Association,” she said, her gaze still focused on the map. “The tour starts at seven PM, so I suggested Harper and I go out to dinner first. I thought that might be a nice touch for our final evening.”
“I think you probably need tickets,” I said, as I gathered up the tray.
“Too bad Tony decided to run off,” Harper said. “I thought it was part of his job to take care of such things.”
“Never mind about Tony. He was really just along to make sure the tour succeeded, not to manage my social life.” Amanda swept one hand through the air. “I can make my own arrangements for personal activities.” She lifted her head and offered me a brilliant smile. “I’m not helpless, whatever some people might think.”
“I’m sure Mr. Lott didn’t see you as helpless,” I said, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I balanced the tray between my hands.
“Just annoying, then.” Amanda cast Harper an apologetic glance. “Sorry to talk trash about a colleague. I don’t usually do that. But that man got on my last nerve.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t fond of him, either,” Harper turned her attention to me. “Thanks for the coffee, Charlotte. And please thank Alicia for breakfast. It was delicious.”
“Yes, it certainly was,” Amanda said.
What little you ate of it, I thought, but simply nodded and left the room.
“They wanted me to make sure to thank you for breakfast,” I told Alicia as I set the tray on the counter. “Said it was delicious. So your efforts weren’t in vain.”
Alicia snorted and turned to face the sink. “Pecked at it like birds, but I suppose that’s their prerogative. They’re both checking out tomorrow, I take it?”
“Yes, quite early. I think we just need to put out some cinnamon rolls or other baked goods and have to-go cups for the coffee. Nothing too fancy.”
“Suits me,” Alicia said. “Just leave those remaining breakfast things on the counter. I’ll rinse them and stack the dishwasher.” She cast me a half-smile over her shoulder. “You can take a break. Imagine you need it after yesterday.”
“You also did a lot of the work for those parties,” I said.
“But I didn’t have to entertain anyone. I expect that’s a lot more exhausting. Is for me, anyway.”
“Okay, thanks. Just don’t worry about fixing anything for lunch or dinner tonight. Our remaining guests will be out, and I can forage for myself.”
“It’s a deal,” Alicia said. “In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the rest of the day off. Once I finish cleaning up from breakfast, I mean. My family mentioned something about a co
okout later, and I wouldn’t mind joining them for a change.”
“No problem.” I poured myself a mug of coffee. “Leave whenever you want.”
“Thanks, appreciate it.” Alicia gave me a little wave as I left the kitchen.
I headed for my bedroom, planning to call some of my own family members, but as soon as I set my mug on my nightstand, my cell phone rang.
It was Detective Johnson. “Hello, sorry to bother you on a weekend,” she said.
“Oh, it’s just another workday when you run a B and B.” I settled on my bed, anxious to hear whatever news the detective had to share. “By the way, Tony Lott checked out early this morning. He told me you had cleared him to leave town.”
“Yes, that’s partly why I called. We’ve cleared him, along with Molly Zeleski. Neither had any involvement in Lisette Bradford’s death.”
“Really? I know Molly said that one of her neighbors could provide an alibi, but I wasn’t sure if that had been confirmed.”
“It has. And it’s not just that one neighbor, but also someone else who lives across the street. Both vouched for her whereabouts around the time Ms. Bradford was killed. She was definitely in Morehead City. Nowhere near Beaufort harbor.”
“I see.” I picked up my mug and took a sip of coffee. “What about Tony Lott?”
“We’ve also confirmed his alibi. It seems he was involved in a long phone conversation during the time the murder was committed. We’ve talked to the person he claimed to be speaking to and also double-checked the phone records, so we know it’s the truth.”
“But why wouldn’t he mention that? I mean, he was under suspicion, at least from Amanda and the other guests. Why not clear that up right away?”
Detective Johnson cleared her throat. “I suspect he wanted to keep that conversation a secret, especially from Ms. Nobel. You see, he was chatting with a representative from another publishing house. Something about a new job, if I understand correctly.”
“Ah, so he was looking for a new position on the sly. That explains a lot.” I thought back to Tony’s behavior and his comments over the past week. While he’d appeared eager to fulfill his obligations to Amanda’s publisher, he’d shown little personal regard for the author. He just wanted to do what was required; what would look good to a new employer, I thought, downing another slug of coffee.
“Apparently he got the job, from what I hear,” Detective Johnson said. “I guess that’s why he felt free to bail on Ms. Nobel a day early.”
“And wasn’t concerned over arrangements for the future stops on her tour.” I felt a pang of sympathy for Amanda, but it was washed away by a more pressing thought. “That narrows the field of suspects. Of course you still have to consider Billy Bradford and Roger Warren, but I wonder”—I set down my mug and sat back against the iron spindles of my headboard—“if perhaps we’ve missed an obvious suspect.”
“You mean Amanda Nobel?” Detective Johnson asked, proving once again that she was no slouch in the sleuthing department.
“She had the opportunity. All of the dinner guests apparently split up after they left the restaurant, and no one’s said anything about where Amanda was between dinner and her return to Chapters.”
“Very true. She told us she was just walking through the town, but we haven’t found anyone who can establish an alibi for her whereabouts at that time. And according to what you shared with me, she also had a motive.”
“To prevent Lisette Bradford from betraying her secrets, whatever they are.” I tapped the side of my phone with one finger. “Which apparently, if disclosed, might’ve had a negative effect on Amanda’s career.”
“I’m guessing they were something that could’ve gotten her blacklisted in the publishing community.” Detective Johnson paused, as if considering this angle more thoroughly. “When we talked to Mr. Lott in his final interview, he alluded to Lisette Bradford having the ability to hold something over Ms. Nobel, but he didn’t know the specifics.”
“I have to wonder if perhaps Lisette was pressing Amanda to give her a coauthor credit. Some authors do that when they have help writing a book. Maybe Lisette was threatening to expose Amanda’s secrets if she didn’t go to bat for her with the publisher.”
“I see where you’re going with that, at least as far as it might’ve played out in Ms. Nobel’s mind. Eliminating Lisette Bradford would remove that danger, since it seems no one else knows what these potentially scandalous confidences were.”
“The murder didn’t even have to be premeditated,” I said. “Amanda may have just confronted Lisette over the situation and things got out of hand.”
“We have been considering an unplanned attack scenario,” Detective Johnson said. “The crime didn’t look particularly well thought-out, and we’ve discovered that Ms. Bradford actually died from hitting her head as she fell against the dock, after a previous blow probably knocked her off balance.”
“So, I guess that puts Amanda up there on the list.” I sighed. I liked the author but knew that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a killer. After all, you’re close with people who have allowed their friends to fall into unpleasant situations in the past …
“Along with Mr. Bradford and Dr. Warren. We still haven’t ruled them out,” Detective Johnson said.
“Do you still want to allow Amanda Nobel to leave town tomorrow? That’s her plan.”
“Let me think about that. We may want to question her again, but if so, I’ll have someone in the department set up the arrangements. You don’t need to do anything. In fact,” the detective’s voice sharpened, “please don’t give Ms. Nobel any indication that we’ve spoken, and definitely don’t let her know that you suspect her of anything. I’d rather not spook her.”
“Okay, I’ll try to keep everything light and friendly,” I said before thanking the detective and wishing her good luck with the investigation.
I stared at the phone for a moment after we completed our call. I’d have to put on an act around Amanda, but it was only for one day, and with her evening plans, she’d be out most of the time.
Still, acting had never been my strong suit. I punched in Ellen’s number.
“Hey,” I said, when she answered. “Want to give me some tips on how to dissemble?”
“Come over and I’ll see what I can do,” she replied, before adding. “If you’re looking for some techniques on handling suspects you don’t want to tip off, we could also ask Gavin for pointers.”
“Sure, why not?” I said. “When it comes to subterfuge, I suppose two spies are better than one.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I checked my answering machine before I left Chapters, jotting down a few future reservation requests I’d have to respond to on Monday. As I walked out the back door, I noticed Harper and Amanda strolling down the driveway, heading toward the street.
“Hello again,” I told Ellen, who was standing just inside her fence. Shandy leapt up against the gate, barking a welcome. “Were you just chatting with Amanda and Harper?”
Ellen bent down to pick up the Yorkie. “Saw them heading out and asked about their evening plans. Apparently, they’re going out to dinner and then taking an evening tour of the Old Burying Ground. I guess that’s safe enough, even if we are looking at Amanda as a more viable suspect.”
“It would seem so. They’ll be surrounded by people at any restaurant as well as on the tour.”
Ellen nodded as she snuggled Shandy closer. “I thought we’d sit on the front porch. Just let me take the pup inside and ask Gavin to join us.”
I smiled as the small dog licked Ellen’s chin. “Okay, I’ll walk around and grab a seat.”
On the porch, I settled onto the swing, leaving the Adirondack chairs for the others. But when Gavin walked out behind Ellen, he strolled over to the swing.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, as he sat beside me. “But I love these things. Reminds me of my grandma’s house. She had a porch with a swing too, although not quite so elegant.”<
br />
“And where was that?” I asked, as I scooted over.
Gavin just quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. “Sorry, privileged information. I still have family there.”
“What, you think I might send a hit man after them?”
Ellen tutted. “Now, children, no arguments,” she said genially, ignoring the glower Gavin cast her way. “We’re here to figure out how Charlotte should handle Ms. Nobel this evening, just in case she is our murderer.”
“I don’t quite understand how she’s become your top suspect,” Gavin said, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back. “It seems more likely to me that the ex-husband is the culprit, or even that professor. Men are far more likely to resort to violence than women, you know.”
I dug my heels into the porch floorboards to stop the motion Gavin’s action had caused. “Really? I’m not sure that’s true, and while both Billy Bradford and Roger Warren did have reasons to attack Lisette, Amanda’s possible motive feels more pressing to me.”
Ellen tapped the arm of her chair with her violet-painted fingernails. “I agree with Charlotte. A scandal over something Amanda said or did in the past—something both Amanda and Lisette thought damning—could damage Amanda’s career more than a few poor reviews would hurt Roger Warren.”
“It would hurt her publisher too, at least financially. If her career was destroyed, I mean,” Gavin said thoughtfully.
“Yes, and that’s why we kept Tony Lott on the list so long. But he’s been cleared, along with Molly Zeleski, according to Detective Johnson.”
Gavin slid forward, setting the swing in motion again. “What about the other guest? The young dark-haired woman with the Cher hairstyle—Harley something.”
“Harper,” I said, crossing one ankle over the other. “I suppose she did have the same opportunity as any of the others, but I can’t imagine a motive for her to kill anyone.”
“You did tell me that she seemed to dislike Lisette Bradford,” Ellen said.
“True, but if dislike was a popular reason for killing”—I lifted my feet, allowing the swing to rock—“we’d have a lot more murders.”
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