by Lane Stone
I swiveled my head to see who she was eyeing, like I didn’t already know. David and she were looking at each other. She was begging for an explanation. He seemed to be saying it wasn’t true. Then he mouthed. “It’s okay. Please.”
Then I realized Mayor Rivard was sputtering. “Well, well.”
She had good reason to be alarmed. The Fouries’ edutainment exhibition included an original animated film, with virtual reality characters mingling with the audience during the day simultaneously at several venues, and a light show on the ocean at night. Pulling it off required specialized knowledge and expertise.
I stood. “I’d like to make a suggestion. We could have a digital reproduction made of the artifact”—we were way past calling it a part of a wine bottle—“for education and research in South Africa. A 3-D version can be produced at the University of Delaware.” Betsy looked at Howard Fourie, waiting for his response.
“It would probably take at least until Friday for it to be produced,” I added.
Finally, he nodded. “That’d be fine.”
The members of the city council began to breathe audible sighs of relief. David turned to look at Julie and I saw pure joy on his face. As we filed out of the meeting room, David passed me. He was hell bent for leather, or at least determined to get to Julie as fast as he could.
“That was a good idea you had,” John said. “Sure saved the event for the mayor.”
I was about to thank him for the compliment when he began mocking me. “Tell me, which Elvis song gave you that particular brainstorm?”
“Well, it wasn’t ‘Return to Sender,’ I’ll tell you that.”
Howard Fourie came up behind our little entourage of three. “Lady Anthea, my side didn’t carry the day, but I hope there are no hard feelings.” Cahry tha day. I had to admit I did like his accent. He held out his hand to her.
“Certainly not,” she said, returning his smile. He held her hand an extra beat. Were they flirting?
We went out into the nippy air and almost ran into Julie and David, standing on the porch. We were just in time to hear her say, “Take me with you.”
Her voice was soft and they were standing close together. If they hadn’t been standing so close to the door, we never would have heard her. The soft edges Lady Anthea’s smile had given Howard Fourie wouldn’t have hardened. Chief Turner’s expression wouldn’t have turned to granite. But, then, we wouldn’t have seen the formation of a new, unholy alliance.
“Ms. Berger, I’ll see you in my office within the hour,” Chief Turner barked. “You are not to leave town until further notice.” He strode away not looking back. He was headed to the police department entrance to the building.
Howard Fourie moved to stand next to this son. “David, you do know about the murder investigation, do you not?” Julie was standing right in front of him.
To keep from glaring at her, instead Howard’s eyes tracked Chief Turner’s broad back. “It’s about time they made an arrest,” he growled.
She looked frightened.
“Hold the telephone,” I said. “Julie, he probably wants to ask you a few questions about your uncle. That’s all.” I looked at Howard Fourie. “And that’s a long way from an arrest.”
“Dear, I’m sure you want to help the police find your uncle’s murderer,” Lady Anthea said to Julie.
Instead of answering, Julie looked at her feet.
David answered for her. “They were very close and she’s upset.” He shot a look at the door Chief Turner had disappeared into.
“We’re going to have to get back to Buckingham’s,” I said. “The agility class starts soon.” We said our goodbyes and left the three of them standing where they were. No one was speaking.
“Oh, look at this!” Lady Anthea said, stopping at a window of a boutique of home goods on our walk back to the car. She was pointing at a dish towel with Lewes monogrammed on it. “Delightful!”
“Huh?”
“Get behind me and photograph David and Howard Fourie for Dana,” she whispered. “Just lovely! So clever!” she exclaimed, louder.
“You’re overacting,” I said as I got my phone out. I snapped several quick photos. “Howard Fourie is mostly in profile. Let’s go.”
We walked to the Jeep as fast as we could, and I handed Lady Anthea my phone. “I’ll drive by them. Try to take a straight-on photograph of dear papa.”
I pulled out of the parking spot and drove along Third Avenue, as slowly as I dared. When we passed the group, Howard looked straight at us. Lady Anthea gave him the formulaic royal wave.
“I’m guessing when the queen does that, the other hand isn’t taking photos under her arm,” I observed.
“I should think not,” Lady Anthea huffed.
“You were great in the hearing!” I said.
“As were you.”
“I didn’t expect it to take the turn it did.” I turned left and then kept taking lefts until I was back on Savannah Road. “Why do you think Julie doesn’t want to talk to the police?”
“I have no idea. David said she and her uncle were close, but it seems that would be a reason to speak with Chief Turner,” she said. “I think it’s odd she wouldn’t want to aid the police.”
“But were they close?” I asked.
“She knew where the deli was. That’s in her favor,” Lady Anthea said.
“Do you realize she hasn’t once asked about his dog?”
My phone rang. It was Rick Ziegler and I answered it on my dashboard screen. “Hi, Rick!”
“Hi,” he answered, not his usual casual self. “I’m at Mozart’s. Pop says he can go to the police station now. Can you meet us there?”
“Did he get an attorney?” I asked.
“He said he’s defending himself.”
Lady Anthea buried her face in her hands. “Dear Lord.”
“I’m right there with you, Lady A.,” he said. I could hear the pessimism in his voice.
“Chief Turner is about to get a statement from someone else,” I said. “Can he go later?”
“You don’t mean someone else about Billy B.’s murder?” I heard that bit of hope in his voice. I wished I hadn’t.
“It’s his niece. Not really a suspect,” I said.
I heard shuffling and then a door open and close. “Why isn’t she a suspect? If there aren’t any other relatives she’ll inherit half the business.”
“Rick, did you ever hear Billy B. mention a niece named Julie?”
“The one that was standing outside the deli? Nah,” Rick answered.
“How about any other relations?” Lady Anthea asked.
“Um, not that I remember.”
I debated telling him what I’d learned about Wags’s celebrity status, but decided Rick had enough on his mind.
“You sound like you’re in a tunnel. Do you have your hand over the phone?” I asked.
“No, I’m in the men’s room,” he said.
“Is there anyone in there with you?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?” he said, starting to chuckle. “I’m not going to out anyone, so forget it.”
“I just wanted to know if you have privacy. Can you talk?”
“Suuuuure. You just wanted me to describe some of my brothers.”
Lady Anthea had been taking in our banter, looking at me and then at the screen.
“Seriously—”
“I miss this,” he interrupted. “I miss sitting on our surfboards talking like this.”
“Me, too. Don’t worry. Summer will come again. It always does. And your dad won’t be a suspect.”
Chapter 25
When we got back to Buckingham’s I texted the photos to Dana, then I texted John.
Martin Ziegler wants to come in and talk this afternoon.
Compared to who I’m
talking to now, he’s completely normal. “Grieving” too much to answer questions.
Tell David she can stay here at Buckingham’s while he’s in class with Ariadne.
Why?
A test.
Chapter 26
I joined Lady Anthea and Shelby at the reception desk. “Where is Wags?” I asked.
“Mason took him out for a walk,” Shelby answered. “For the last hour he’s been sleeping in your office with Abby. Lady Anthea, that trick class really tires him out.”
“As it should. They’re using their brains and bodies,” she answered.
The doors opened and Chief Turner came in. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s time for a little less conversation,” I said.
“Is that an Elvis song?” he asked.
“Of course. Did you find anything interesting in Billy B.’s safe?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know. Nothing mentioning Julie,” he said. “Stacks of old clippings that will take time to go through. I left them in the safe, instead of putting them in the evidence room. They’re probably nothing.”
“Was there a pet trust?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Anything naming a caregiver for Wags?”
Again, he shook his head no.
“If you find either of those, I’d like to know if there’s a provision for the care of Wags—the name of a caregiver, or any other instructions.”
Mason, the reason for my questions on Wags’s future, came in with the Pug, who was wearing another brand-new leash and collar, and I stopped talking.
“I need to borrow him,” I said.
Mason leaned over and scooped him up. “For what?” he asked with suspicion. “We can’t be too careful. He’s a rock star.”
“I need his help with an investigation,” I answered, earning an eye roll from Chief Turner. “Would you leave before Julie and David get here?” I asked him.
“I’m going now,” he said. He looked at Wags with such mistrust I was afraid he was going to Mirandize him.
“See you at three o’clock?” he asked.
“You will?”
“Martin Ziegler said you were going to sit in when he gives his statement.”
“No one bothered to ask me, but sure. I’ll be there.”
With that he left.
“Mason, when Julie Berger comes in, put Wags down and let him walk around.”
A few pet parents with students in the agility class came in and Lady Anthea escorted them to the side play yard. After a handful had reported in, she wrapped a cashmere scarf around her neck and stayed out with them. Though it was February, it was sweater weather.
The rest of us stayed in the lobby talking about what it meant that Wags was “America’s Dog.” It was, as Mason had put it, rock star status. Sometime around two o’clock, Julie and David pulled into the parking lot. He drove a rented Mercedes. I quickly threw a few training treats on the floor in front of the desk and went back to the other side.
“Put Wags down on the floor!” I hissed to Mason. Then I turned and called Abby from her bed in my office. “Come, girl.” Since she’s a Standard Schnauzer I had no guarantee she’d get up and come out. Being my dog and believing that commands are suggestions made her the canine equivalent of the preacher’s son. This time she did obey, though.
“Hi, Julie,” I said. “Good to see you. Hi, David. Hello there, Ariadne.”
Wags and Abby sniffed around her feet and then in front of them, looking for the treats. Ariadne joined them, but David was holding her leash so tight, she was at a disadvantage.
“Oh,” Julie said, backing up. She took David’s arm. “I don’t want to trip on them.”
Both dogs snuffled and rooted until all the kibble was found and devoured. Abby went back to my office. Wags gazed up at each of us to see if anyone was in the mood to pet him.
I began chattering away, asking Julie if she needed help planning a service for her uncle. And was she comfortable where she was staying? I was killing time.
Wags had walked over to Mason to be picked up again.
Julie’s eyes widened when I was in mid-ramble, but she didn’t interrupt me. Finally I asked, “Is this your first trip to Lewes?”
“Oh, no.”
I wanted more information, so I waited and watched.
“But I haven’t been here for several years,” she finally added in.
“Please let us know if anyone at Buckingham’s can help at all,” I said. It was time to put her out of her misery. I’d already found out what I wanted to know.
David put his hand on her back and they turned left to join the rest of the class in the side play area.
Mason walked around the counter, carrying Wags. “You wanted to know if Julie knew Wags, didn’t you?” he asked, after a quick look around to be sure she was not near enough to hear.
“That was only part of it,” I said.
Shelby leaned in. “If someone in your family won an Olympic gold medal, don’t you think you would all be talking about it?”
“What sport?” Mason asked.
“Swimming,” Shelby answered.
“Yeah, I guess word would get around the family,” he admitted, after considering the question.
“She had no idea who Wags was!” Shelby said.
“More importantly,” I added, “Wags didn’t know her.”
David intended Julie to go to the agility class with him and Ariadne. Julie wanted the same. Then there was Lady Anthea. Their fingers pulled apart. While I had complete confidence that they would one day gaze into each other’s eyes again, and in this lifetime, they looked at one another until the door to the area set aside for the agility class cruelly took David away and my nudge to Julie’s elbow in the direction of my office did the same for her. When we were in the office I motioned to the sofa. She smiled at the Elvis impersonator hound dog throw pillow, a point in her favor, and sat.
I wondered just how soon I could jump in to ask questions about her relationship with Billy B. Her faints and breakdowns came at very convenient times, but I didn’t know her well, or at all, so I couldn’t tell if they were genuine or not. I would start there. “We’ve never met before this trip and I’m sorry it’s under such sad circumstances.”
She looked down at her perfectly manicured hands, folded in her lap. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve been so emotional. I didn’t see him as often as I should have. I know that.”
“How old was he?”
She looked at the ceiling, then back to me. “Almost eighty.” It was obvious she was guessing, but that was close enough.
“And he was your uncle?”
“He was really my great-uncle,” she said. Now that made sense, from an arithmetic aspect.
“Do you live very far away?” I wished I’d noticed if the compact car she was driving that first day was a rental or not. Could that have been Tuesday, only two days ago? I hadn’t even noticed the license plates.
“I live in New York,” she said. “I’m an actress. Well, I’m trying to be.” She gave a little laugh. Of course, just perfect. I wanted to warn her not to tell Chief Turner about her career since it would be evidence to him and acting was exactly what he thought she was doing. Then there was the fact that in the mysteries I read young, beautiful actresses almost always ended up dead or indicted. Not Playing Dead came to mind.
“Billy B. was a fixture in this town,” I said.
“Why do you call him that? Why does everyone?” she interrupted.
“That’s what he wanted to be called. You know, Billy for William. What did you call him?” I asked.
“Uncle William. He and my grandfather were brothers.”
“Were?”
“My grandfather died before I was born. Can you tell me more about Uncle William?�
�
I almost laughed but caught myself. That was so not how this conversation was going to roll out. “I didn’t know him well. I think most of us thought we knew him better than we did. Turns out we’d known him long, but not well. Does he have other relatives? Chief Turner was having a hard time locating his next of kin before you came,” I said.
“My parents died in a car crash about ten years ago, so I’m all that’s left,” she said.
“Was he ever married?”
She shook her head.
“Had this trip been planned a long time ago?” I asked.
“What trip?”
“Your visit to Lewes,” I said, trying to keep the duh out of my voice.
“Oh, it wasn’t planned at all.”
“You just came on a whim?” I had been sitting on the corner of my desk, which had been getting hard, so I joined her on the sofa.
“No-o-o,” she said. “We spoke on the phone every week.”
Now, that was something Chief Turner could verify, I thought.
“The last time we talked, he didn’t sound like himself.”
Finally, we were getting someplace, but why couldn’t she have told all this to Chief Turner? “How do you mean?”
“He sounded, uh, nervous,” she said.
“Did he say what was making him nervous?”
She shook her head and peeked at her wristwatch.
“When was this?” I asked, sensing my time was about to run out.
“Saturday,” she said, then she seemed to reconsider. “Maybe Friday.” She stood and so I did, too. “That’s why I drove out to check on him.”
I didn’t mention that she’d waited two or three days to look in on an elderly relative.
“I’m going outside to watch Ariadne train.” She twirled on her high heels and was out the door. This dog, with the hard to pronounce name, she knew.
I followed her behind the counter. “Are you an opera buff, too?”
She froze. “Too?” She turned back around to me.
“Lady Anthea says that name, Ariadne, is from an opera,” I said.
Her face told me she was filing that gem away for the not-too-distant future use. “And, of course, Billy B. sang opera to his customers at Mozart’s.” She raised an eyebrow and started to walk away again. I had another question, “Where was Billy B. from?”
