“Detective Inspector Bronson, Aunt Betty didn’t poison Gerry Swendson, and I can prove it,” I said. My voice was loud. I didn’t care. Everyone in the room slowly turned to face me. “The murderer is here in the room. In fact, she’s standing right there.”
I pointed in the general direction of the women who were still clustered around Alistair, who was holding the big crystal bowl. They each reacted as if I’d hit them with a Taser and at once they started protesting. The only one who didn’t was Claudia.
Instead, she just shook her head. “I had no reason to murder Gerry.”
It was true that of the four of them she was the least suspect, but I was going to keep poking until someone gave in. I glanced at Harry, who was watching me with equal parts admiration and trepidation, as if he was thrilled that I was going to crack the case and worried that it was going to blow up on me at the same time. I felt the same way.
I rose from my seat and began to walk around the room, circling the tables. Most people had stopped moving. They were watching me as if I were a snake winding my way through the crowd, looking to strike. Freddy stayed beside me as if he, too, knew this was our do-or-die moment.
The only person who was oblivious to me was Richard. He had moved on to the dessert tier of the high tea and was loading his plate with the tiny pastries. I had a sudden urge to slap the small pear tart out of his hands but I resisted.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Bronson said. “But if we had any evidence against another person in this room, we would have arrested them by now.”
I ignored him and kept walking.
“I did some reading the other night,” I said. “And I learned quite a few things about fentanyl poisoning.”
Bronson’s eyebrows lifted. “How did you know . . . ?”
“I found the body,” I said. “I saw the blue lips, the dried foam on the skin around his mouth, and the bruising where he’d banged his head against something hard during a seizure. Which, as we discussed before, is consistent with an opioid overdose.”
Bronson nodded. “I’ll give you that.”
“Of course, it’s easy to buy fentanyl on the street,” I said. “But what if the murderer didn’t have to because they were already on fentanyl as a prescription for pain?”
I noticed several people in the room went still. It made me realize that the global discussion about the opioid epidemic was spot-on. There were a lot of people popping the prescription pain pills, which was no doubt making it difficult for the police to narrow down the killer.
“Just because someone is on a prescription doesn’t mean they’re the killer,” Bronson said.
“I know,” I agreed. “But it does give them means and, as you said, if motive and opportunity were indicators of guilt then motive, opportunity and means must surely tip the scale.”
“Enough,” Liza Stanhope snapped. “Take that woman and her nephew away! They are clearly guilty of doing anything they can to win this competition and since Gerry was determined to ban her after her wild accusations about his dog food, it gives her more than enough reason to have killed him.”
“More reason than a woman who was about to be replaced as the chairman of PAWS by Gerry Swendson?” I asked.
Liza gasped. It was a direct hit. The conversation I’d overheard between her and Richard was proving valuable. I glanced at Richard. He was still eating, completely unconcerned by my big reveal.
“I heard you and Richard talking,” I explained. “Richard said Gerry was hoping to replace you after seventeen years so that the spotlight was more on him than on the winning dog. That’s why you had to get rid of Aunt Betty and Freddy, initially, because if you didn’t Swendson was going to have you removed from PAWS.”
Liza tossed her jet-black hair and jutted out her chin. “You can’t prove anything.”
“Oh, can’t I?” I asked. Actually, I couldn’t but I hoped if I kept talking the facts would all weave themselves together.
I turned to Bronson. “Did you know that Gerry was so deep in debt that there was no way he was going to be able to finish building the castle he had promised his new young wife unless he started to cut corners in the dog food business?”
“We knew he was in financial straits, yes,” Bronson said.
“I heard that Mary was in charge of the production of the dog food,” I said. “That she scrupulously maintained the highest of standards except for last year right after the award show, when seemingly a very bad batch of Swendson’s Dog Food came out and made Freddy, here, very sick.”
“Another reason for your aunt Betty to be considered a suspect,” Bronson said.
“Perhaps, or maybe it’s more likely that the person whose reputation was tarnished by the bad food would have cause to murder the person who chose substandard ingredients for the food just to cut costs so he could finish building his castle,” I said.
“That’s a lie!” Mary cried. “I would never harm my brother. Ever.”
Her face was red and she looked upset. Good. People made mistakes when they were upset.
“Perhaps not,” I said. I glanced at Tilly. “After all, it would require knowing someone who had access to fentanyl in order to slip it to your brother, say, in his morning coffee?”
Tilly’s face went red then pale then red again. “I had nothing to do with it.”
She didn’t meet my eyes and I saw that Bronson was frowning.
“That’s right,” I said. “You had an alibi. You left the cocktail party and went to your mother’s because you had a headache, but your housekeeper assured you that Mr. Swendson had left your home in good spirits and wearing the clothes he was found in. You said you didn’t see your husband from the time you left the cocktail party until his body was found.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’ve already endured hours of questioning. I’m innocent.”
“But is your lover?” I asked.
Tilly went pasty white again. I could feel my friends watching me but I didn’t meet any of their gazes because I didn’t want to lose the rhythm I had going.
“He had nothing to do with it,” Tilly said. “He’s been questioned as well and he is innocent.”
“He?” I asked. I turned to Claudia and lifted my eyebrows. “Funny. You don’t look like a he to me.”
Claudia gasped. She glanced quickly at Tilly, who shook her head, but it was too late. They’d given themselves away.
I turned to look at Bronson. For the first time, I could see I had his full attention. He glanced at the four women and then at me.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m saying that Gerry wasn’t killed by one person, he was killed by a pack,” I said.
Chapter 17
The room was silent. Freddy and I continued walking until we were back at the table with all of our friends: Andre, Nick, Alistair, Fee, Viv, Aunt Betty and Harry.
“On my first day in the dog show, I met Mary. When we talked, she advised me that if I was going to be successful in the show with Freddy, he had to know I was part of his pack,” I said. “That, in fact, I needed to be his alpha. She said the dog hierarchy is alpha, beta and omega, with the alpha the dominant above all others, the beta subservient only to the alpha, and the omega subservient to everyone.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Mary said. “I see no reason to—”
“Hush,” I said. “I’m talking, not you.”
Mary closed her mouth. So, not the alpha, then. I glanced at the other three. None of them spoke. In fact, they looked as if they were barely breathing.
It hit me then, who the alpha was, who had, in fact, been pulling the strings all along.
“The alpha is the dog that the other dogs try to please,” I said. Bronson was watching me, his eyebrows meeting in the middle in a hard line of concentration. “Say, you’re at a do
g park, you’ll note that the alpha dog doesn’t greet the other dogs. They come to him.”
Freddy and I walked past our table. We moved to stand beside Bronson, and I gestured by tipping my head that he should walk with us.
“The alpha wields all the power,” I continued. “The alpha directs the actions of all the others, especially when there is a threat to the pack. The threat, in this case, was Gerry Swendson. He had to be removed.”
Bronson nodded. He was beginning to understand.
“Gerry interfered in the production of the dog food,” I said. “He cut corners and costs, trying for fast profit. The year’s supply of dog food that was given to the winning dogs last year was a prototype of what Gerry wanted to produce. It made the dogs sick and there was a lawsuit, still pending, I believe.”
I glanced at Mary. She stood frozen, staring down at the floor, much like a puppy being chastised.
“He tarnished the reputation of the company he and Mary had built. She had to be furious with him, not only as a dog lover but as a business owner.”
“She has an alibi,” Bronson said.
“Of course she does,” I said. “Also, she’s not the alpha or the beta, but rather the omega.”
Mary’s head snapped up. There was anguish in her eyes. I felt no remorse.
“Gerry also wanted to change the direction of the dog show,” I said. “He wanted the sponsor to receive more publicity than the winning dog. He felt that switching out the chairman of PAWS would achieve that end. I believe he was hoping to get someone younger into the position.”
Bronson looked at me with interest. “Any proof of that?”
“No, only the taunting comments overheard in the competitors’ waiting room,” I said.
“I have listened to quite enough,” Liza said. “If you would just hand over the crystal bowl, we will award it to Mr. Freestone and enjoy our tea. Honestly, this display of poor sportsmanship is unseemly.”
I raised my eyebrows and looked at Bronson and said, “There’s your beta.”
A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Please continue.”
“Severe headaches caused by a pinched nerve in the back,” I said. “There’s not much that can help except a very potent pain medicine. Of course, patient-doctor confidentiality being what it is, I suppose it would be hard to find out who might have suffered a spinal injury that caused severe headaches with the only relief being a prescription for the very dangerous opioid.”
“I have been clear of all medications for months,” Tilly said. The words burst from her as if she’d been trying to hold them in but couldn’t anymore. “I don’t use. I haven’t since, well, since . . .” Her gaze shifted to Claudia, who looked at her as if she just wanted to hug her.
“Let me guess, omega, right?” Bronson asked.
I nodded. “There can only be one alpha. I believe Swendson was it, until he got removed. There’s a new alpha now, and he’s the one who called for the murder of Gerry Swendson, and he’s sitting right here.”
I paused beside Richard’s seat. Muffin was sitting in the chair beside him. Richard was nibbling on a pink petit four with cream filling. His entourage was speechless, their mouths hanging open as if they couldn’t believe he was the mastermind behind the murder of Gerry Swendson.
He didn’t bother to acknowledge me or Bronson. In fact, he just kept eating. When he finished, he licked the pink icing off his fingers and then wiped them on his napkin.
“Well, this has been entertaining,” he said. “Who knew we were going to have dinner and a show?”
He started to rise from his seat and Bronson said, “Not so fast.”
Richard completely ignored him. He held his gaze and continued straightening to a standing position. Then he very purposefully checked the time on his watch. It was a Rolex, proving once again that he was making a fortune from Muffin’s popularity. The gold watch band was a little loose and he shook it to move the clock face to the middle of his wrist. He looked pointedly at the time and then at Bronson.
“You have absolutely no reason to keep me. This fictional story, while amusing, is exactly that, fiction, created by a loser who is bitter because she didn’t win. The trophy is mine. The title of champion is mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll collect my winner’s cup and go. Muffin, come.”
He was going to leave! But every instinct I had was screaming that he had engineered the whole thing, Gerry’s murder, Freddy’s loss of the competition on a technicality, all of it.
I whirled around and faced the women. “If you don’t speak up now, he walks and you get charged with murder. Is that what you want?”
I saw Claudia and Tilly exchange a glance. Liza and Mary looked confused as if they’d been under a spell but it was finally lifting.
“Richard told me that Gerry was planning to have me removed as a judge because he found out about me and Tilly,” Claudia said. “I didn’t care. I told her to be strong and that after the dog show, she could leave Gerry and come live with me, but then Gerry was murdered and we thought it best to wait.
“When I arrived at the dog show on the morning of the agility tests, Richard was there and he told me that Gerry had committed suicide by taking Tilly’s medication. He said that because of her relationship with me, no one would believe it was suicide and that Tilly would be charged for his murder if we didn’t hide the bottle and the body. He made me help him hide the body under the dais, but he kept the bottle.”
She looked bitter and it was then that I knew she had taken a hell of a risk to keep insisting that Freddy won the dog show when Richard was holding this over her head.
“Definitely an alpha,” I muttered. Claudia met my gaze with a sad smile.
Everyone turned to Tilly to see if she would verify the story. She was sitting at a table, having collapsed into a seat, and was openly sobbing. Her hands were shaking as tears slid down her face, ruining her makeup and making her look even younger than she was.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Swendson,” Bronson said. “Just tell us what happened.”
“Several months ago, at a press event for Swendson’s, Richard asked me for some of my pain medication,” Tilly said. “I was still using pretty heavily back then, and I didn’t think it through. He said he had wrenched his back and was in horrible, crippling pain. I didn’t want to think of anyone else suffering like that, so I thought I was helping him by giving him my prescription. I forgot all about it, because I was trying to get clean for Claudia. I’ve been off the meds and sober for months, ever since we . . .” She glanced at Claudia with so much love wrapped up in vulnerability that I felt my own throat get tight. “On the morning of the agility tests, Richard used those same pills to kill Gerry by crushing them up and putting them into his coffee.”
“Why?” Bronson asked. “Why did Richard want Swendson dead?”
“Gerry was going to do everything he could to make sure Muffin didn’t win this year. He hated that Muffin’s celebrity eclipsed the dog show, which he paid a fortune to sponsor. He felt that it was unfair that the dog gets so much attention, and he hated that Richard made a fortune off the show while Gerry was spiraling into debt and probably going to lose everything.
“When Richard found out what Gerry was doing, he decided to kill him. When I threatened to go to the police and tell them, Richard said he still had the bottle my pills had come in and that he had carefully preserved my fingerprints on it. He said he’d out me and my lover and turn over the bottle to the police if we didn’t help him. Claudia wanted to go to the police, but I was terrified and begged her not to.”
Bronson turned to Liza. He didn’t say a word. He just stared. She folded like a cheap suit.
“I didn’t know what he was capable of, I swear,” she said. “I’m as much a victim as Tilly and Claudia. Gerry was angry with me. He said he was going to have me removed from PAWS because he wasn’t seeing enoug
h return on his investment in his sponsorship of the dog show. I complained to Richard via text, saying I wished Gerry would just drop dead. It was just an angry message. I didn’t mean it. Richard said not to worry, that he would take care of it. He tried to convince me that Swendson had committed suicide, but I never believed it. Not really.”
“Why didn’t you come to the police?” Bronson asked. He looked peeved and I couldn’t blame him. What a waste of time.
“Because Richard told me that if I expressed any concern about Swendson’s death other than as a tragic suicide, he would feel compelled to come forward with my text expressing my wish that Swendson would drop dead,” Liza said. She cast a glance at the table where all of Richard’s followers sat. “I’ve built PAWS up from nothing, I couldn’t let him take it all away. When Richard demanded to win the competition, I felt like I had to do what he wanted or he’d try and make it look like I was the killer. He said he could do it. I panicked.”
“And you,” Bronson said to Mary. “How could you let your brother’s killer roam free?”
“I didn’t know!” Mary’s voice was low and full of slow-burning fury when she spoke. She glanced at the others and snapped, “How could you? How could you know he was the killer and do nothing?”
“Oh, please,” Claudia chided her. “How did you not figure it out? You knew he was manipulating all of us, including you.”
“I thought he was just trying to win the competition,” Mary said, seething. She turned back to Bronson. “Richard threatened me. He told me he would use Muffin’s considerable influence to destroy my brand if I didn’t guarantee him the win at the dog show, but that was it. I honestly thought my brother had committed suicide. He was always so overly dramatic that I thought maybe this time, he’d just gone too far. I didn’t know Richard murdered Gerry. If I had, I would have—”
Buried to the Brim Page 19
