I was glad it took the heat off me.
“I suppose it serves him right for putting himself in Beryl’s will.” Maeve almost sounded chirpy as she stood over a giant skillet of bacon.
“No one deserves to freeze to death, or fall off a cliff,” Uncle Joe said from the end of the long bench on one side of the kitchen table.
“Don’t they?” Maeve sounded vaguely surprised, as if Joe were presenting an opinion she hadn’t considered.
“If he murdered Beryl and put himself into her will first, then he definitely deserved it,” Roman declared. He was sitting opposite Joe.
“You’re just mad because Beryl hadn’t finished paying you,” Jini said from beside Joe.
Roman shook his head at the accusation. “No. I just think that justice has been served.”
“There’s no evidence that he killed Beryl.” Joe’s tone was still mild, but his face had fallen into an uncharacteristic frown.
Roman did not agree. “Sure there is. He was there. And the rest of us didn’t do it, so it had to have been him.” Roman looked at me for approval. He didn’t get it.
“Sorry, Roman, I just can’t see that yet. We would need some proof. And I really don’t think he was in any state to be killing anyone that night. He was concussed, he was drugged with morphine, he had hypothermia, he nearly had frostbite, and he was exhausted from wandering in the blizzard.”
“Maeve?” Roman called. “What do you think? Did he kill Beryl?”
She turned from her position over the skillet to face us. The bacon continued to sizzle behind her. “I bet he would have liked to so he could get his greedy hands on her money sooner. Lawyers like him have got no morals. None.”
Roman was nodding along, pleased for the support. “Exactly what I thought. Every weekend he came here, pretending to be nice to her. Plotting the whole time.”
“But,” continued Beryl, “with the amount of morphine I gave him, it just wasn’t possible. He didn’t move from that bed for nearly twenty-four hours.”
“But he could have, right? The concussion could have made his body ignore the effects of the morphine, couldn’t it?”
Beryl looked skeptical. “I don’t think so. It’s not a case of mind over matter. Morphine has physical effects on the body that can’t be overcome through willpower. It would be like trying to run a marathon while one of your legs was encased in concrete. With the best will in the world, you just can’t do it.”
“But…” Roman stared down at his hands on the table. “How old is your morphine? Maybe it was weak.”
Maeve shook her head. “Beryl was getting old. I replaced everything in our first aid kit last year.” Maeve turned back to the skillet and began extracting the bacon and depositing it into a large silver urn.
“I still think it was him,” Roman said in a softer voice, more talking to himself than anyone else.
“Let’s leave the accusations up to our team of detectives,” Uncle Joe told him. “They’re the experts.”
Roman took a moment from inspecting his hands and glanced up at me. I treated him to a friendly smile. He didn’t smile back.
“Breakfast is ready!” Maeve announced. “Into the dining room, please.”
With loud scrapes, the two benches were pushed back, and we trooped off to eat our breakfast.
* * *
After we’d finished eating, our whole group remained at the table, sipping our coffees.
“Yumi and I,” Roman announced. “Are going to hike into town.”
“No, you’re not,” Jini snapped so quick I felt like I’d blinked and missed something.
Roman’s mouth dropped open. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that response.
“Yes, we are. We’re both young and fit, and we can get there long before it gets dark.”
“No,” Jini said again. I don’t think I was the only one wondering who had suddenly made her boss.
“What? Why not?” Roman asked.
“Because you’re still suspects. Wanting to run away the first time the weather improves isn’t a good look, Roman. What if you disappeared and we never saw you again?”
“That’s preposterous. I live in Las Vegas! I work there!”
Jini shook her head. “Nope. You’re a writer. You can do that anywhere. And, no offense Yumi, but you’re not from here. The pair of you could hop on the next plane to Japan while we’re all still stuck here in this house.”
“But—I wouldn’t—we wouldn’t do that. We want to get help! Not run away!”
“Tell me,” Jini said, leaning across the table. “What, hypothetically, do you think you would be saying right now if you were the killer and you wanted to get away? You’d be telling us that you wanted to hike into town to get help for us, wouldn’t you? When in fact you would be planning your getaway.”
Jini had a very good point. But it wasn’t exactly doing wonders for the breakfast table atmosphere.
“No,” Jini said. “I propose we all remain here.”
“But we can’t stay here forever!” Roman slapped his hand on the table for emphasis.
Jini shook her head at him. “I’m sure the phone lines, or the cell towers, will be fixed before long. We’ll be able to call the authorities then. If not, our guests on Sunday will alert them to the fact that the road is blocked by an avalanche. There’s no need to hurry off into town. We have food and supplies.”
“She’s right,” Uncle Joe said, adding the air of authority that comes with being the oldest member of our little group. “There’s little benefit hiking into town now. And it looks like more clouds are rolling in. It could be dangerous too. No sense risking it.”
“The house,” Maeve said, “is well-stocked and supplied. We have all we need.”
“Except the internet,” Ian said, his complaint surprisingly half-hearted considering how much time he usually spent online. Contrary to my expectations, he was actually enjoying being disconnected for a while.
“Then it’s decided,” Jini said.
“No, it’s not,” Roman snapped back. “Let’s vote on it.” Before anyone could argue, he initiated proceedings. “Everyone who thinks Yumi and I should hike into town so we can get the help we need, so we can get the corpse out of the woodshed, so a proper search can be conducted for Norman, raise your hands.”
Roman’s hand shot into the air. Yumi looked around the table nervously before tentatively raising her own, her awkwardness at being the only other person to do so palpable.
“Are you serious?” Roman still held his hand proudly aloft as he attempted to wither everyone else at the table with his gaze. “You don’t want to get out of this wreck of a house today? Tonight?” He stared a little longer before, finally, lowering his hand back down. “Unbelievable.”
Roman pushed his chair back, almost knocking it over, but Yumi caught it. “Love…” she said gently, reaching for his arm. He snatched it away and stormed out of the room.
Yumi, biting her bottom lip, stared at us all, a plaintive nonverbal cry from her gold-flecked deep brown eyes. We had nothing to offer her. She could support Roman, or not. It was up to her.
It wasn’t hard for her to make a decision.
Yumi ran after Roman.
* * *
After breakfast, we began a second round of interviews. We set ourselves up in the library again, with a fresh cup of hot coffee in front of each of us. In the kitchen, Maeve had used an Italian-style stovetop coffeemaker to make our hot drinks, which produced even better results than an electric model.
Who knew you could still get your creature comforts without electricity?
Once again, to avoid any accusations of impropriety or favoritism, we started with our own Uncle Joe. After several dramatic days at the house, he hadn’t lost his good humor, but if I wasn’t mistaken, he was looking rather more tired around the eyes.
“How are you sleeping, Uncle Joe?”
“Not great. The room’s drafty, the bed’s uncomfortable, and it’s too darned quiet.
”
“Too quiet?”
“Yeah. Not used to it. Puts me on edge. When it’s as quiet as it is out here, even little sounds get at you. Every time a floorboard creaks, I think the house is going to fall right down on top of me.” He looked at Ian. “Do they get earthquakes up here?”
“Can do,” he said with a firm nod. I was pretty sure it was bluster and Ian knew nothing about the geological makeup of this area. “A good one would set off a real avalanche, not like the little one that blocked our road.”
“I’m gonna just hope that don’t happen,” Joe said with a wary shake of his head. “You know, coming out here was one of the worst ideas I ever did have. Sorry for dragging you—and everyone else—out here into this. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t think like that, Joe. You couldn’t have possibly known what was going to happen. You had the best of intentions and that’s what counts.”
“And I don’t mind,” Ian said. “It’s like an adventure.”
“I always figured adventures were a lot more entertaining to hear about than to participate in,” Joe said, “and now I know I was right.”
“From what you told me the other day, it sounds like you’ve had plenty of adventures in your own life.”
“I suppose. None of them involved being locked up with my dead ex-wife and a murderer though. This is a whole other level.”
“You prefer crashing planes into palm trees?”
Joe chuckled. “I guess I do.”
“I know it was only yesterday we spoke to you, but have you got anything new that you can tell us about what happened to Beryl? Or even Norman?”
“No, not really. Nothing you don’t know already.”
“Like what?”
Joe shrugged. “Roman sure seems mighty keen to get out of here.”
“Yep.”
“And he’s trying to convince us it was old Norman who whacked the ancient witch.”
If it had been someone other than Beryl he was talking about, I would have been suspicious of him calling the murder victim an ancient witch. But it was Beryl. I’d have been suspicious if he started singing her praises instead.
“We’re certainly taking all that into consideration. Anything else? Have the others said much?”
“Afraid I can’t tell you much. You know they moved the body yesterday—that was Roman’s doing, him and Jini—but apart from that I spent most of my time playing with little Angel. We had fun yesterday, with Yumi trying to teach us both how to use those chopsticks of hers. Angel caught on right quick. I’m still learning.”
“You can’t use chopsticks?” I asked, a smile on my lips.
“Hey, I can barely use a knife and fork,” Joe said in self-deprecation. “Put me in front of the Queen and she’d be asking for my head if she saw the way I brutalize a dinner.”
“Like Tiffany,” Ian said with a smirk.
“That’s not true!”
Joe chuckled at me. “Maybe it’s proof we are related.”
“Ian doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ignore him.”
Joe and Ian grinned at each other in a way that I think Ian designed to infuriate me. He was a far messier eater than anyone I knew. Even Angel had overtaken him in terms of being a more polite eater in the last few months. It was mere projection on his part.
“Sunday’s going to be something, huh? If they get the road cleared?”
“The reunion? You still think it’s going to happen?”
Joe shrugged. “Well, I ain’t sent cancellations.”
“I guess it depends on if the road is clear. Maybe we’ll have a reunion at the site of the avalanche.”
Joe chuckled. “Maybe we will. Speaking of which, if the weather holds, I think some of us need to go take a looksee at it later. See if it ain’t something we can’t clear ourselves. Between us, we could probably get some real work done on whatever rubble has fallen on that road. Maybe clear a path through it. Or build a ramp over it.”
“Good idea. We’ll just have to make sure Roman doesn’t head off without us if we do get it clear.”
“Yep. Say, are you going to tell us what she put in that will of hers?”
Ian and I looked at each other. I gave him a little nod. We had discussed it. After our first round of interviews, we decided that in the next round, we would see how people reacted to what was actually in the will when we told them.
“Will you keep it to yourself, at least until we’ve talked to everyone?”
Joe nodded at me. “Sure can.”
“Okay, first, you’re not in it.”
Joe shrugged. “I’d be amazed if I was. But Taki?”
“She is.”
“The house?”
I shook my head.
“Darn it.” Joe slapped his hands onto his thighs. The sound rang across the room. “Darn it,” he repeated. “That woman. Wicked to the end.”
Joe’s reaction was harsher than I had expected. He was such a laid-back guy that it was a shock to see him getting worked up. He took in a few deep breaths. “What did she leave her?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“And?”
I shook my head.
“That’s it? Ten grand? Not the house? Not an heirloom? Not an apology? Nothing?”
“That’s what the will says. I’m sorry, Joe.”
He slowly shook his head. “Taki won’t be surprised when I tell her. But I wish—” Joe smacked his leg again. “I wish she’d left her the house. But she left it to that lawyer? That Norm?”
“Yeah.”
“Darn it.” Joe cocked his head at us. “Guess he’s lucky he’s not still in the house. A few of us would have some choice words for him.”
“I bet you would.”
Joe rubbed his hands against the tops of his legs where he’d slapped them. “She was unbelievable in life, and now she’s unbelievable in death. How did I ever see anything in her?”
“We all make mistakes,” Ian said. “I had a bad run with women too, until I met Sally.”
“And that hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing either, has it?” I gave Ian a friendly nudge.
“It took us a while to fully get each other,” he admitted, “but now we’re solid as a rock.”
“How do rocks fair in avalanches?” Joe asked him.
Ian’s face scrunched up in consternation. “There aren’t going to be any avalanches. Not for me and Sally. It’s smooth sailing for us.”
“Sailing, huh?” Joe nodded thoughtfully. “If you’re out on the open water, I guess there can’t be any avalanches.”
“Exactly,” Ian said, “open water and smooth sailing. That’s us.”
“Just watch out for hurricanes.” I tried not to smile while I said it.
“Hurricanes? No, Tiffany, that’s not—we can’t—I mean, Sally and I are great.”
“I know. Just teasing. Your analogies were growing legs and running away from you.”
Ian leaned back in his chair, a confused frown on his face.
“I guess you’ll be wanting to get onto your next interview?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Uncle Joe. You’ve been as big a help as ever. Sorry we didn’t have better news for you about the will.”
“I should have guessed. Shouldn’t have got my hopes up. But I thought… Taki.” Joe pushed himself to his feet. “I never learned with that woman.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about her anymore,” Ian said a little too cheerfully as he stood up beside me.
The pair of us walked Uncle Joe to the door.
“Keep your ears open for us, Joe, will you?”
“Will do.” He clapped us both on the shoulder. “You’re good kids.”
Even though I was a little too old to be called a kid, at least in my estimation, it felt good to receive a compliment from Nanna’s younger brother.
“Thanks, Joe. See you.”
“Right.” Ian clapped his hands together loud and hard and then rubbed them together. “Who do we have lined
up to be Black and Cousin’s next victim?”
Chapter Sixteen
Roman and Yumi, that’s who.
“I suppose you want to talk to us separately, again?” Roman asked. He was standing by the door to the library, arm in arm with Yumi who merely smiled at us.
“Yes, please. It works better that way,” I said with as nice a smile as I could muster. Roman was becoming less and less easy to be friendly to by the hour.
“I’ll be upstairs,” Yumi said. “See you soon, love.” Yumi gave Roman a kiss on the cheek and then hurried away, her movements smooth and lithe as she ascended the stairs, almost as if she were floating.
Ian nudged me and nodded after her. Of course Roman noticed.
“What?” He said as we stared after Yumi.
“Nothing,” I replied. Come in and sit down.
He didn’t budge. “It’s obviously something. Why were you staring at Yumi?”
I shrugged. “I was telling Ian earlier I was jealous of how graceful she is.”
Roman’s expression lightened. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Not like Tiffany, she’s like a—” I jabbed him to try and stop the insult I knew was coming “—like a, oww, waddling bird. You know, like a toucan, but one that can’t fly.”
“Thanks, Ian.” He beamed back at me, clearly pleased at how well we’d covered up the real reason we were looking at Yumi. “Let’s get on with it. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than talking to us.”
Roman indicated that indeed he did. He again sat down in the brass-studded leather chair. After settling himself, he pushed up his glasses and then clasped his hands together on his lap.
We sat down on the other side, Ian with his notepad and pen at the ready.
“Roman, yesterday you moved Beryl’s body.”
“Yes. We did.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a—” he leaned forward, staring into my eyes “—freaking’ dead body.”
“Yes, but presumably you don’t believe in zombies. It was covered, and behind a closed door. So?”
“Yeah,” Ian said, “what did you think was going to happen? She’d get up in the night and bite you?”
Reunions and Revelations in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery Page 12
