“I haven’t evaluated the assets recently,” Walter said. “But if I had to make a rough guess, I’d say it would fall somewhere just above two million dollars.”
“An estate worth two million dollars…” Riggs gulped and tried to catch his breath.
“No. I mean each of the four shares,” Walter corrected him. “The whole estate is closer to ten million, but I’m not a specialist in estate law, you understand. And there will be plenty of taxes and legal fees involved.”
“I see.” Ten million dollars. Riggs was breathing through his nose, slowly and evenly. Ten million dollars. “Now, there’s one more thing, Mr. Abbott. I would like to know your opinion of Miss Miller.” Walter glanced behind him, and Riggs added, “She’s not here, and I’m only asking off the record. She strikes me as a competent woman, but someone else— ”
“You shouldn’t put too much stock in what Paul says,” Walter said. “He’s quick to criticize, and he doesn’t know anything about Miss Miller.”
“So you wouldn’t say that Rosemary Miller is the sort of woman who misplaces things?”
Walter raised an eyebrow in surprise and even pushed back his hat. “No, I’d think that highly unlikely. Rosemary is an extremely careful and organized woman. Why? What has she lost track of?”
“An important file. She said that you dropped it by last Wednesday.”
Walter’s jaw tightened, and his breathing slowed. He turned and looked out over the lake. There were two sailboats cutting through the deep blue water. Behind the lake, the rolling hills were covered with dark green fir trees. And in the farthest distance, the Cascade Mountains reached up in shades of pale lavender and icy white caps.
Walter looked out, and Riggs waited.
After several moments, Walter turned back to him. “It wasn’t that important. Just an old business file.”
“You told Miss Miller it was important.”
Walter clapped his hands together and looked back at Riggs. “Yes, of course, I did say that, didn’t I? All financial records are important to me, Inspector. I’m an accountant. Figures are important, and I say it out of habit. But there wasn’t anything especially important about that file.”
Riggs smiled reassuringly. “Mr. Abbott, could you tell me a little more about that specific file?”
“I—I’m sorry, I honestly don’t remember which file it was,” Walter said. “My mother liked frequent updates, and I was always dropping by the latest reports. In any event, it had to do with the Abbott Enterprises, so it had nothing to do with my mother’s murder. You can take my word for that.”
Riggs leaned back and spoke calmly. “I would like to have all the facts so I can make that determination for myself, Mr. Abbott.”
Walter stood up.
“Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, Inspector.”
Riggs tapped the table lightly. “Mr. Abbott, you do realize that I can get a search warrant?”
“Yes, yes, of course, I realize that,” Walter interrupted him. “You have your job to do. Go ahead and do it. You can get a warrant and search every company record for the last forty years if you want to.”
Walter had the upper hand, and he knew it.
Even with a court order, Riggs knew that Walter could produce any papers he chose. What Riggs really needed was Walter’s cooperation. Walter turned toward the house. The discussion was over.
“I’d like to have a word with your wife,” Riggs said.
Walter stopped. “I’m sorry, but Victoria is still out of town.”
“Yes, I remember you saying that. When does she get back?”
Walter took a quick breath and glanced around before turning to Riggs. “Look here, Inspector, Victoria hasn’t seen my mother for six months. Besides, since she’s been out of town, she can’t have had anything to do with this mess, so there’s really no point in— ”
At that moment, Mrs. Peabody opened the Dutch door and stuck her head out. “Hello, Mr. Abbott, I only just saw you there. Can I get you and the inspector anything to drink? And will you be staying for lunch?”
Walter checked his watch but didn’t actually look at it. “No, Mrs. Peabody. I have to go. I already have a lunch engagement.” He pulled a file out of his briefcase and handed it to the cook. “Could you please give these to Miss Miller for me?”
“Yes, of course.”
He closed his briefcase and adjusted his hat. “Thank you, Mrs. Peabody. Good day, Inspector.” And with that, Walter retreated into his old Studebaker. He started the motor and drove off without another glance at the inspector.
“My goodness, but that man’s been acting funny lately,” Mrs. Peabody muttered to herself. “And more papers, too. That’s the second time this month.”
Riggs turned to her. “Isn’t that normal?”
“For a man to act like that?” she demanded.
“No, I meant Mr. Abbott delivering papers here.”
The woman shook her head. “Once or twice a year, maybe. Apart from that, he only comes out here for holidays. He never was a very social person, even as a boy.”
“But how did Mrs. Abbott get updates about the company?”
Mrs. Peabody laughed. “Mrs. Abbott was the president! She attended every board meeting, and she inspected the individual companies regularly. She kept her own notes, too. No, Sir, nobody ever had to tell Mrs. Abbott what was going on at her own company!”
* * *
At the same time that Walter was retreating from his mother’s house, Victoria was walking up First Avenue. She turned west on Pike and headed into the fish market. It was a breezy afternoon, and the wind kept blowing the skirt of her blue dress so that she had to push it back down. Victoria bought lettuce and tomatoes at a farm stand, a fillet of fresh salmon from the monger, and a loaf of bread from the baker. At the flower stand, she was just reaching for a bouquet of tulips when a man in a gray suit hurried up to her.
“Victoria!” he exclaimed happily. “What a surprise! I thought it was you!”
She turned around and smiled. “Martin, how wonderful to see you!”
They hugged. The pink carnation in his buttonhole ruffled some of the netting on her cream hat, and she had to reset it.
“It’s been ages,” Martin said. He took off his straw Stetson and crossed his arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since…when was it? Last Thanksgiving, I think. Hey, are you still running around with that rich playboy of yours? ‘Cause looks aren’t everything, you know!”
“If they were, I would have married you,” Victoria assured him.
Martin beamed at her. “Imagine running into you after all this time. Hey, how about joining me for dinner? Just for old time’s sake, what do you say?”
Victoria paused for just a moment. “Martin, I’m married.”
“No kidding!” Martin exclaimed, but his enthusiasm softened. “Well, congratulations! Who’s the lucky guy? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t deserve a beautiful gypsy like you.” Martin reached out, took Victoria’s left hand, and lifted it. He frowned. “Don’t tell me the sap didn’t bother to give you a ring!”
Victoria smiled. “It’s not like that.”
Martin shook his head. “You really have got it bad.” He sighed. “Who would have thought it? The woman we all wanted finally ties the knot, and the lucky guy doesn’t even have enough sense to put a sparkler on her finger.”
The wind blew, and a small lock of Victoria’s hair blew across her face. Martin reached up and gently put it back.
Chapter Sixteen: Julia’s Greenhouse
The following day was bright and sunny. Inspector Riggs parked in front of Mrs. Abbott’s house and looked around the grounds. A thick grove of fir trees separated Mrs. Abbott’s estate from her daughter’s property next door. Riggs followed the winding, dappled path underneath the green canopy. To his right, he could see patches of the lake through the rhododendrons, holly, and huckleberry bushes. The air smelled like honeycomb and rich damp soil. The path kept twisting to av
oid brambles of blackberries and overgrown ferns, but it only took a minute or two before Riggs emerged on the other side.
He was standing on the edge of another large property with open sweeping lawns. He blinked against the bright sunshine.
The Shrubbs’ home was an oversized white colonial mansion with neat blue shutters and a triple garage. A new Kaiser Darrin convertible was parked in the driveway. The house was not as grand as the Abbott estate, but it was elegant with boxed hedges, symmetrical topiaries, and formal black shiny doors. To Michael Riggs, it looked like a good house that had worked hard in life to make something even greater out of itself.
He had just started for the house when he noticed a wrought iron greenhouse nearby where someone watched him. Riggs turned and headed for the greenhouse.
As he approached, the metal door swung open with a faint squeak.
“Good morning, Inspector Riggs,” Julia greeted him.
At least, he thought it was Julia Abbott Shrubb. She was wearing a red blouse with white polka dots, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail and tied back with a faded yellow handkerchief. Her denim trousers were baggy and soiled, and she had several smudges of dirt on her left cheek. She smiled, and Riggs recognized the attractive jawline and the cool brown eyes. But it was hard to believe this gardener was the same refined woman he had interviewed just the other day.
“Hello, Mrs. Shrubb, I didn’t recognize you at first,” Riggs admitted.
“No one ever does,” Julia said with a grin. She was transplanting spent tulip bulbs into clay pots. “Trade a string of pearls for a pair of old trousers, and it’s as if I changed my whole face. It’s funny really because we all used to dress like this during The War. Women, I mean. Of course, we were doing “our part” and a lot more men’s work back then, so we had to dress for the job. I don’t miss the war, but I miss a lot of the work. I miss the freedom. My friends have all gone back to being ladies—or at least pretending to be—and I’m still sneaking out to muck about in the dirt every chance I get.” She wiped her dirty hands with a handkerchief. “It’s so relaxing. I just can’t get it out of my system. Sometimes, it feels like I’m living a double life. One life is in a big white house with pearls and dinner parties, and the other one in a dirty greenhouse.”
“Which one do you prefer?”
“This one, definitely.” She chuckled. “The wardrobe isn’t nearly as flattering, but it’s more practical, and these flowers are nicer than half the people I know.”
“And trousers are more comfortable for working,” Riggs said.
“So, you’re a married man!” Julia smiled coyly. “Only a married man would realize that women don’t wear high heels and girdles when they’re gardening or scrubbing floors. And I will forgive you for not being a gentleman and shaking my dirty hand. I’ve been transplanting bulbs into their larger pots all morning, so I’m not fit for handshaking.”
Riggs took off his hat. “I’m sorry to interrupt you like this.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Julia said, stacking some pots on a wooden bench, “I haven’t been sleeping very well the last couple of nights, and fussing around out here is the only thing that clears my head.”
Inspector Riggs looked at the charming greenhouse. It was large, but unlike the rest of the property, it appeared to exist for reasons beyond its own grandeur. On the wall was a faded poster from the war. It showed three women in a colorful vegetable garden, and the bold red letters above them read: Fight for Victory, Plant a Victory Garden!
There were worn wooden benches and dented tables, piles of pots in various stages of transition, and a well-used collection of tools. It smelled of warm dirt and tender sprouts and fertilizer. Although it was still morning, the sunlight was beaming through the dirty glass and warming the damp air to a pleasant, almost intoxicating temperature.
Julia grabbed a couple of wooden crates and stacked them to form a seat. “Here you are, Inspector, take a chair and make yourself comfortable.”
Riggs took off his hat and sat down while Julia moved another pot onto her potting bench. She glanced at him and asked, “So, have you made any headway on the investigation?”
“Here and there,” Riggs said. “Investigations are generally slow, but it’s coming along. I’m hoping that you can help me with a few details.”
She moved some dirt. “What kind of details?”
“I was wondering about Saturday night. Just before everyone left, you all stood talking in the driveway for a while.”
“That’s right.” She nodded.
“Did you go back into the house for something?”
“Back to the house?” Julia considered a moment and then shook her head. “No, I’m sure I didn’t. The only thing I had with me that evening was my handbag, and I picked that up on my way out. Although, now that you mention it, I think somebody may have gone back for something.” She squinted her eyes, trying to remember. “Maybe it was Paul’s girlfriend, Camille. I think she may have left her white handbag. I noticed it on the table when I walked outside. But, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her yourself. I’m really not sure.”
“I will, but it’s probably not important,” Riggs said. “But there is something else which might be very important.”
Julia glanced up. “And what’s that?”
“I’d like to know about that row that happened on Saturday night.”
Julia lifted a lock of fallen hair and tucked it under her yellow hair scarf. “I thought it might be that,” she admitted with a sigh. Julia brushed off her hands, took a deep breath, and sat down so that she was facing him.
“Inspector, I said I wanted you to find the person who killed my mother, and I meant it. But I can tell you honestly that it wasn’t one of us. Whoever did this terrible thing, it was someone else, someone from the outside.”
“You may very well be right, Mrs. Shrubb, but my job is to investigate all possibilities and then to arrive at the truth.”
“But it all seems so silly now: my mother and her righteous demands.” Julia sighed and rubbed her neck for a moment.
“What did she want?”
“Alex is all set to attend a university on the East Coast, but my mother wanted him to attend a local private university so he could start ‘learning the ropes’ at the company. That company was her life’s work. It was practically all she ever talked about.” She sighed. “Mother also wanted Paul to settle down and marry Miss Sinclair.”
“What did Miss Sinclair think of that?”
“Camille was angry, and I don’t blame her. My mother was condescending and rude.” Julia’s jaw stiffened as she added, “As far as the suggestion itself, I have no idea if Camille has any interest in marrying Paul, or anyone else for that matter.”
Inspector Riggs rubbed his mustache as he watched Julia’s face. “You dislike Camille Sinclair,” he said.
Julia smiled. “No, of course not. I just don’t know her very well. Paul only started dating her earlier this year. She’s charming, and I’m sure she’s a good person, too.”
The inspector didn’t believe that. From Julia Shrubb’s expression and from the way her gaze shifted, he suspected that Julia disliked Camille Sinclair very much.
“What else did your mother say?” Riggs asked.
Julia picked up a flower pot and set it back down. “She wanted Freddy to give up his bookstore and join the family company. That’s nothing new. She’s been pressuring him to do it for years. But this time was different. Anyone who didn’t oblige her would be disinherited from her will. Plain and simple.”
“What about your twin brother, Walter?” Riggs added, “What did she want from him?”
Julia frowned. She stood up and turned to the side, using her gloves to wipe some dirt off of the potting table. After a few moments, she seemed to have made up her mind because she turned back to Riggs.
“Walter is a very sensitive man. As a boy, he…well, he was painfully shy. He struggled to speak around strangers, especially when he was ups
et. Even as a teenager, he would sometimes just lose his voice. He’s a handsome man, and women were always interested in him, but he was so quiet that it never lasted. I think it’s hard for people to understand how difficult common things are for Walter. That’s why when he met Victoria, we were all shocked, and we were doubly shocked when they announced that they were married.”
“Were you upset?”
“Not at all.” Julia smiled and shook her head. “I’d never seen Walter so happy.”
“Victoria wasn’t at the party on Saturday.”
Julia bit her lip as she shook her head. “We haven’t seen her for several months now. I don’t know where she is, but I don’t think she’s living at Walter’s house anymore. He won’t talk about it.”
Riggs smoothed his mustache. “And what did your mother want?”
“She wanted Walter to file for a divorce.” Julia’s eyes glistened, and she wiped them with a clean part of her sleeve. “Mother always hated Victoria. She resented Walter for getting married without her approval. But that night, she really went too far. She told Walter that he was a fool. And she called Victoria horrible names.”
“What names?”
Julia took a deep breath. “A gold-digger, and a floozy, and a Nazi.”
“A Nazi?”
“Victoria’s parents were immigrants,” Julia said. “My mother distrusted all foreigners. She told Walter to divorce Victoria on the grounds of abandonment.”
Riggs considered the situation. “How did Walter take it?”
“He didn’t. Walter stormed out,” Julia said. “He came back into the house about an hour later, after our mother had gone to bed. He barely spoke to anyone.”
“Besides the family, who else was present for this discussion?” Riggs asked.
Julia shook her head. “Mrs. Peabody was in the kitchen. Donna Holt was smart. As soon as she realized what was about to happen, she said she had to powder her nose and disappeared. She didn’t come back until the fireworks were over. Rosemary wasn’t there at first, but my mother called her in after Walter had stormed out. And that’s when she announced that she would be leaving Rosemary with a ‘substantial’ legacy for her years of devoted service.”
The Charlatan Murders Page 8
