by Liz Turner
“Lady Withers is doing better. She still hasn’t come out of her self-enforced confinement. Poor thing is distraught. You know they had only been married a year.”
John’s face fell. “I didn’t. Did they have any children?”
Margie shook her head. “They were planning on them, some day. But I guess they never will now.”
They were silent for a moment, their thoughts dark and silent. “Well, perhaps we could cook something up for the widow and drop if off for her. Poor thing probably isn’t cooking for herself, you know. Do you know where she is staying?” He had a smile on his face, but it looked strained.
Margie shook her head, watching as the town center faded away out of the window. The houses got further and further apart until they were suddenly replaced by evergreen trees. “I think Ray might, maybe we can make something up for her, and I’ll bring it down to Ray when I get a chance to visit again.”
Pressing a finger against his chin, John squinted his eyes. “Perhaps some freezer meals that she can just throw into the oven when she’s hungry? Or a basket of muffins and treats?”
“That’s a lovely idea. I’ll talk to Ray about getting them to her.” Margie grinned, her heart lightening at the generous and kind spirit of the man next to her on the bus. He was thoughtful and kind and intelligent and funny. All of those things other women wanted in their future husbands.
Unfortunately for John, Margie wasn’t like any of those other women.
Chapter 10
“I thought you were going to stop by while you were in town?” Ray asked, his voice filled with worry.
“Sorry, I just had too many errands to do,” Margie said, feeling a little guilty. “By the time my helper and I finished up everything, it was nearly 9 PM, and I still had to get back to the winery. It’s not a short ride. And I fell asleep as soon as I got back.”
A heavy sigh from the other side of the phone. “Alright then. Do you have anything for me?”
Margie frowned, wrinkling her nose. “Not a thing.” This murder was the single most frustrating case she’d ever worked on. She could hear the irritation in Ray’s voice; he must have been thinking along the same lines she was.
Margie shifted the phone against her ear, settling down on her bed in her little cabin. “I have less than two weeks to figure it out before I leave too. And we’re getting nowhere.”
“You’re telling me. The DA is ready to grab up anyone that looks even remotely guilty at this point. We’re grasping at straws over here. We might be out of our depth on this one.” Although she couldn’t see him through the phone, Margie could sense he was shaking his head in frustration.
“Okay, well, what do we know for sure?”
“A man was murdered by poison meant for his wife. His wife is not talking about possible suspects. The poison was nothing we’ve ever seen before. Very difficult to trace. We have no idea where it might have come from.”
“Is there a poisons expert you can talk to?”
“We sent him a sample and haven’t heard back. He’s apparently out on sick leave for the next week or so.”
Margie glanced around her tiny room, looking for inspiration. “And Lady won’t talk to you?”
“Lady hasn’t spoken a single word since we caught her trying to leave town,” he growled, his voice laced with anger. “The doctors think she might be in shock. We’ve been as nice as possible to her, hoping she’ll shake this funk and talk to us, but if she doesn’t come around soon, we’re going to have to arrest her for obstruction.”
“And if you do that, people will start to wonder why you’re still investigating a man who fell over.” Margie rubbed her head, which was starting to ache around the temples.
“Which will get people talking. We’ll lose any element of surprise we have against the killer. If whoever it is found out we’re investigating him, they might run.”
Frustrated, Margie threw herself back against the bed. “I wish I had something new for you. But this case is so strange. If Lady would just talk, you could protect her.”
“Unless she killed her husband.” Ray sounded like he was ready to throw in the towel, at least for the day. Poor thing.
“Are you getting enough sleep, Ray?”
Ray snorted. “Probably not.”
“How about we reconvene? We’ll meet up here at the winery tonight, and we can run over the case again.” Ray agreed though Margie could tell he wanted their meeting to be sooner. Sighing, Margie hung up the phone and then scrubbed at her face with her hands. She lay there a moment longer, allowing the mattress to cradle all of her sore spots. I’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had enough time to sleep.
But she was too far into the case to give up now. Kevin Withers deserved justice. And, if Lady wasn’t guilty, she deserved to be safe from her husband’s murderer. If Lady isn’t guilty. Margie wasn’t quite sure what to think. Ray seemed to think she was, but Ray also followed the rules. No one was guilty until he could prove it. So as far as both he and the law were concerned, Lady was still innocent. But it didn’t feel quite right to Margie.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up from the bed, feeling the world spin a little as she stood up too fast. “You need to get more sleep,” she admonished herself, before stepping out into the sunlight. Over the last two hours, the snow melted almost entirely away, and the day was looking to be bright and warm for the first time. The sunlight streamed through the evergreen needles, tinting everything around the winery a soft green. Margie stopped on her cabin’s little stoop, deeply breathing in the scent of white pines and Fraser firs. Memories tied closely to scent flooded her whole being, filling every inch of her soul with light.
This day was so beautiful, she just wanted to stay outside forever, breathing it all in. But the kitchen wouldn’t mind itself; Margie headed off to the main building, a sweater wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She may not have any new clues for Ray, but she had an idea of where they could start when he got there that evening. And that, at least, was better than nothing.
Margie smiled at John as she entered the kitchen. He was waiting for her by the pantry, a full pot of coffee on the counter between them. “Oh thank goodness. I really need this right now.”
He laughed. “You’re up late.”
Margie shook her head, pouring coffee into the empty mug by the machine. “No, I was up on time. I just had a phone call this morning,” Margie rolled her eyes. “Family.” She tried not to think too hard about how easily lies came to her. But he would start asking weird questions again if Margie mentioned she’d been talking to Ray again. And she couldn’t tell him anything about the case.
John raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you had any.”
Laughing, Margie filled her cup the rest of the way with creamer. “Are you kidding? My mother and father are trying to start a clan upstate. My five siblings all are married with two kids a piece at least.” Margie grinned; there were so many of them now, she couldn’t even remember all the kid’s names. Her mother had provided her flash cards during the last Christmas holiday. “I think they are trying to make sure that the family name gets passed on since the oldest still has yet to marry and give them any grandchildren.” She pointed to her own chest, taking a big sip of coffee. It burned pleasantly down her throat and warmed her belly.
“I see,” John answered, his voice a little strained. “I...uh. I had a lot of fun yesterday, Margie.”
Setting down her mug, Margie smiled as broadly as she could manage. “I also had a great time, John. But as your friend. I gave it all I could, but my career is still more important to me.” It was lonely, but she was starting to be able to handle the loneliness a little better. Yesterday reminded her of what she really did miss: friendship, camaraderie, and the feeling of belonging somewhere. All those feelings she’d lost when she went away to school. Feelings that wouldn’t be solved in a relationship with someone she didn’t love. “We would make great friends, John, but no more than that.”
; He hung his head, hiding his face behind his long hair. “Are you sure, Margie?”
She put her hand over his, patting it gently, hoping she conveyed comfort. “I am sure. Nothing in the world will stop me from getting on that plane in two weeks.”
John was silent for most of the rest of the day, but Margie knew he would be alright. He had no shortage of girls who wanted his attentions. Once Margie was gone, John would forget all about her. He would find a younger, prettier woman who was ready to settle down and have three kids, a dog, and a white picket fence.
They prepped for dinner in silence as the kids started filing in. All nine of them cooked, cleaned, plated, and served like pros, everyone finishing up their assigned duties then immediately turning to help those who weren’t quite done. Margie grinned to see them work so well together. She was pretty sure that whoever Dolly found to replace her would appreciate all of her and John’s hard work to keep the kitchen working like clockwork.
Or so she hoped.
“Everyone did fine work today. Please finish up the dishes for me, then everyone can head home.” Margie said, trying not to look as worn out as she felt in front of the kids. She walked out into the cool night air, the breeze drying the sweat on the back of her neck with one, hard gust. “What a day,” she told the night’s sky, her eyes running over the black blanket filled with stars. The cold woke her up a little, and she shivered, hugging her sweater a little tighter around her thin shoulders.
“Good evening!” Someone called from the lot. Ray walked away from his cruiser, a big grin on his face. “How did work go?”
“It went great, Ray,” Margie grinned. “How’s the beat?”
“Uneventful,” he said, his voice tinged with that same frustration from earlier.
It was code. It meant Ray hadn’t found anything more out. Margie clicked her tongue in frustration.
“Well, come on then. Let me show you the place. I don’t think Dolly will mind if I give you a tour.”
They stepped inside, talking about innocuous things until they were out of hearing range of everyone else. Both Ray and Margie managed to keep up appearances for anyone who might be curious as to why a policeman was sniffing around the winery. But once they were out of hearing range, they were all business.
They made their way up the stairs and to the top floor. Dolly had only rented out the rooms on the first and second floors, leaving the third floor empty of patrons. The third floor was where Kevin and Lady’s room had been. Dolly, in on their plot to keep the murder silent, kept Lady’s room intact just in case.
Margie was heartily glad she did. With fresh eyes and more information, the two of them might be able to come up with another clue.
They both pulled on gloves and scoured the room. It was a room similar to Margie’s little cabin. There were several rooms in the main building to rent with full room service where most of the winery’s patrons chose to stay. But there were also the little self-sufficient cabins for people looking to rough it a little. The room was cozy hardwood panel. The other half was painted a warm, glowing honey color. The fireplace was dark and cold, leaving the room feeling abandoned. Not even the cleaning staff had been in here since the incident.
“So we know that Lady was meant to die,” Margie whispered, lifting up the mattress and glancing underneath. “We know Kevin was poisoned.”
“We know Lady is scared, which means she knows something but won’t tell us. We also know she had more than $12,000 stashed in her house that she claims to know nothing about.” Ray ran his fingers over the desk, looking for anything hidden. He also kept his voice down, making sure no one who might be lurking the hallways could hear them.
Margie dug into the trash can. There was only a little crumpled up note inside with one word on it. Dear. Margie stared at it for a moment, then put it on the bed. It didn’t mean anything now, but it might be important later. Ray glanced down at it before continuing to search. “We know that Lady returned from the city scared after a year in show biz and immediately married Kevin. Perhaps for protection.”
“We know that he was poisoned at the table or in the kitchens.” Ray ran flipped through the four books on the room’s desk, looking to see if anything was stashed inside.
“We know that the poison was put into the glass and given to the wrong person, so the poison was most likely added to the glass in the kitchen, then was switched somehow on the way out,” Margie snapped her fingers. “Had they poisoned the glass at the table, they would have been surer of the target.”
“That’s an excellent theory, Margie.” Ray frowned. “Do you think someone in your kitchen did it?”
“We have serving staff and cooking staff; have you looked into all of them?”
He nodded absently, still pulling out drawers and studying them. “I will look through all of them again. Preliminary searches found nothing, but I’m going to look a little deeper.”
“I’d hate to think it was one of my kids,” Margie said, frowning. “They are all so young; what could they have against Lady? None of them have ever been to the city.”
“I don’t know, Margie. But I have to do something. This case is driving me crazy.”
Margie pulled out a notepad from the desk, looking at it with a critical eye. “The only people to stay in this suite were Lady and her husband. This notepad is missing several pages; one of them is in this trashcan.”
“So she wrote a note to someone?”
Margie frowned. “I’d say she wrote a note to herself.” She held the pad up to the light; she could see the indents where someone had pressed a pen hard into the page above it. “This looks like the notepaper that the threatening note Lady received was on. And this looks like the words.”
“So you think Lady wrote it?” Ray asked, his eyes narrowing.
“These doors have keys and not just anyone can get in. Most likely it would have been her.” Margie’s shoulders drooped. “Perhaps it was Lady all along.” The thought was physically painful to her, but Margie couldn’t deny what was right in front of her face. “Or perhaps it was someone from the serving or kitchen staff; it would have been difficult, but they could have gotten hold of the ghost key.”
“Perhaps if Lady’s put up to murder charges, she’ll be more interested in talking.”
Margie nodded, her face grimacing in horror. “How could a person do that to her husband?”
Angry, Ray tightened his fists. “I ask myself that a lot on this job.” Margie knew he was thinking of his wife. Margie knew in the depths of her soul that Ray would never harm her. And this case was really getting to him.
Margie put her head down. “This is all circumstantial, but at least you’ll have something to ask her about.” Holding out the notepad to him, Margie tried to smile but failed. “It’s funny; we decided to cook a basket of things up for Lady to eat since she probably didn’t have much energy for cooking. All the kids just want to do something nice for Lady. But now? What if she did it? Bringing her a get well basket seems...”
“There’s still no proof that she did it, Margie.” Ray interrupted, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. “Perhaps she’s innocent, and this is all just real bad luck. Let the kids make her up a basket; I’ll bring it to her.”
Margie nodded. “That will at least let them feel like they're doing something for her.” They returned to the first floor, Margie gesturing grandly like she’d just given him a tour of the whole place. The patrons, who were still drinking bottle after bottle of the winery’s best, saluted the officer and offered up glasses and pastries. The alcohol Ray declined, but he did join some of the locals for dessert. They smiled and laughed with them as though there were no thoughts of murder plaguing their thoughts.
Chapter 11
“And that’s the last of them,” Karen said, her tiny voice barely audible over the noise of the kitchen. She folded the last of the muffins into the basket, wrapping the whole of it up with cellophane. With expert fingers, she tied a ribbon around the top, form
ing an adorable little bow around the whole thing. Smiling, Karen admired her own work.
What an oddly talented child. Margie pondered over the girl’s amazing selection of skills. She even outshone her brother, who was quite a little chef himself. What an amazing pair of children she’d ended up with. The two of them had come in early; they had the day off from school and came in several hours before their shifts started to help build the basket for Lady. Margie picked up the basket, telling herself for the millionth time that she needed to get these two some proper training. The kids were talented and learned so quickly. With a little training, they would both be incredibly chefs. They both glowed under her praises.
Unfortunately, Margie also knew their mother, a single parent with very little income, would not be able to support their education. Frowning, Margie considered the possibilities. Perhaps there was a fund somewhere for children whose parent died in the war. She desperately hoped so; these two deserved a proper culinary education with someone who had more time and patience than she.
Margie slipped out of the front door, grinning as she came face to face with Officer Marcus. He grinned at her as she handed him a piping hot cup of coffee and the basket. “Ray sent me to pick something up for Lady,” he said by way of greeting. Officer Marcus was always smiling; he looked to be in his fifties, his hair, and mustache completely gray. Margie smiled in return.
“Here it is. And this coffee is for you, my friend.”
Office Marcus took the bundle and the coffee with a wink and a nod. “I’m sure she’ll really appreciate it, Margie. That’s mighty sweet of you.” He was eyeing the muffins with a greedy look, so Margie took pity on him.
“Oh, one more thing.” She pulled a small bag from the pouch of her apron. “Here’s a muffin for your troubles, Officer.”
“You are very sweet, Margie. Bristol won’t be the same without you.” Surprising them both, Office Marcus pulled her into a rough hug. “I’m proud of you for chasing your dreams, girly. I hope my daughters grow up to be just like you.”
