As far as we knew, Harold Jepsen had been struck in the head and—likely—kicked in the stomach. We suspected he’d also been given cranberry juice, but we couldn’t know for sure until the autopsy was done.
We knew that at some point before the cranberry-laced wine, Harold and his wife had an argument in the hallway. For Kenneth, Tabitha, Melody, and Alexis to have all heard the fight, it must have continued down to the other side of the hall.
After that, things got… muddier.
Someone had to have gotten the juice from the fridge, the corkscrew from the kitchen, and the bottle from the closet, then gotten two of the three items back in place without being seen.
Harold could have gotten the bottle and the corkscrew, but a dead man couldn’t put things back where they belonged.
If Harold had been given cranberry juice, with his epinephrine autoinjector missing, he would have had no way to stop the reaction. That alone would have killed him.
“Cranberry juice in wine is such a passive-aggressive way to poison someone,” Ashley said. “Why not bleach or something conventional?”
“Bleach would scream murder. But the cranberry juice could have been explained away as an accident.”
“Not after they used his stomach for kickboxing practice.”
“It doesn’t have to have been the same person. We keep saying everyone had a reason to hate him and almost all of them benefit from his death,” I shrugged.
“You said the diary mentioned dragging.”
“Maybe one person kicked him in the hallway and someone else gave him the juice.”
“That’s a lot of noise for nobody to have heard.”
“They heard it. They just won’t all admit to us that they did. And to be fair to them, he did turn up dead the next morning. If all of the Jepsens were where they say they were that night—”
“Then everyone but the person who gave him the spiked wine is as confused as we are,” Ashley said. “Except for the person who did it. They might not even know which one they’re covering for.”
“I’m willing to bet they don’t.” The stories they told Reid sounded rehearsed, but that didn’t mean they’d practiced them together. Except for meals, I hadn’t seen more than two or three of the Jepsens together at a time.
Two or three at a time… wait!
“Ash? How much do you think Kenneth can bench press?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“He’s in shape, but does he look like he can bench press his own weight?”
“Pfft, he seems more the running and free weights type.”
“That’s… oddly specific.”
Ashley just stared at me. “And your question wasn’t?”
“Okay, fair enough. What about Jeremy Jepsen?”
“Speed walking and yoga,” she said confidently.
“Emily? Tabitha?”
“Trick question. They’re both more the Pilates type. And Tabitha’s a stress runner.”
“Got it, so none of them are weight lifters. So how did they get a limp man down the hall by themselves?”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “We’re dealing with two killers.”
I shook my head. “Not necessarily, but two people had to have helped Harold back to his suite. Maybe one left after they got him in the room and the other stayed until he woke up?”
“What makes you so sure he woke up?”
“We found the wine in the room, and we didn’t find Harold Jepsen in bed. He must have gotten out at some point, and that has to be when he drank the wine.”
“Depending on how much time passed, it could even have been a third person,” Ashley said. “If either of the pair that got him back to his room told anyone else.”
“Which makes everyone just as likely as everyone else, again.” I snapped my pen closed and dropped it on the notepad, letting out a soft huff.
Ash leaned back on the cot and rubbed her face. She looked as exhausted as I felt. “Maybe the detective will have better luck. He is a professional.”
“Reid? I doubt it. The friendly cop routine doesn’t exactly inspire vulnerability when you’re used to your wealthy abuser making problems disappear. One thing we know Harold Jepsen was good at was making people keep secrets.”
“Some of them don’t want to keep his secrets anymore,” Ashley said. “They just need to feel like they can let them go.”
“They all lied to Reid once already.”
“But you only know that because some of them told you the truth. All you have to do is get them to tell you a little more.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Isn’t it? You said they keep confessing things to you. Maybe they’re ready to let go.”
The sound of laughter in the hallway drew my attention. I knew instantly it was the Jepsen sisters. All three of them. But it was Tabitha’s laughter that stuck out the most.
I didn’t think I’d heard her laugh so freely all weekend.
“I won’t have you turn down your birthright just to spite a dead man.” Catherine Jepsen had worried her daughter would go to get away from the secrets her father made her keep.
Maybe she was ready to let them go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I went to the door and listened to the Jepsen sisters’ steps retreat down the hall. They must have been heading for the sitting room. It had one of the few televisions in the big house. The other was in the main sitting room downstairs.
With the electricity back on—but the grounds still a soggy, muddy mess—they were probably planning to set up camp there until dinner.
As much as I would have loved to leave them there, I couldn’t. Those girls, more than anyone else in their family perhaps, deserved a decent vacation. But they deserved to be able to move on more. That couldn’t happen if they carried the lies back home with them.
I told Ashley I’d catch up with her later, then I went to the sitting room.
Tabitha, Melody, and Alexis Jepsen were huddled on the couch giggling over a commercial. The star was an animated frog. The product was a new flavor of potato chip that promised to make your taste buds leap for joy. Apparently, the Jepsen girls found the retro over-the-top air of the commercial hilarious.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Tabitha could I speak to you alone for a second?”
Tabby shrugged. “Sure.” She tried to sound casual, but I saw a moment of panic flit across her face.
I said, “Guys, give us a minute?”
Alexis looked back and forth between her Tabitha and Melody, her older sisters. She seemed conflicted, like she was used to following instructions from adults, but was reluctant to follow one from a stranger.
Melody wasn’t conflicted at all. “No. Why?” She set her jaw and lowered her chin, throwing a look at me that was so cold it put her Aunt Emily to shame.
Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Because I’m hungry, you goober. Go grab us some chips and sodas or something.”
Neither of the younger Jepsen girls seemed to like that answer, but both slid to their feet. One after the other, they filed out of the room. I closed the door behind them.
“Thanks for covering for me with my mom.” Tabitha smiled. Her voice was high and bubbly. “I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. I’m going to tell her the truth about me and Kenneth when we get back home.”
I felt a pang of guilt. She thought I wanted to lecture her about her love life again.
There was no easy way to say what I had to, so I just let it out.
“Thank you for confiding in me,” I said. “But I know you haven’t been telling me the whole truth. And I know you didn’t tell Detective Reid the truth, either.”
It was a risk, but I was comfortable taking it. Tabitha Jepsen wasn’t a hardened killer; she was a traumatized young woman on the verge of starting her life.
Tabitha’s shoulders stiffened. Her face went blank. “What do you mean?”
“I believe you were in Kenneth’s room the night your fat
her died,” I said. “But I don’t believe you didn’t see your father again later.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The color drained from her face.
“How could your father be drunk enough to trip over his own feet, but still have enough of his wits to get back to his suite at the other end of the hall?”
Her eyes widened. “Dad was never not drunk once business hours were over. It doesn’t surprise me he got up and walked a few feet. Heaven knows he’s done it enough times at home.”
“With a head wound, Tabitha? In an unfamiliar house? Even if he could have managed it, he would have knocked over everything in his path. Not a single thing was out of place.”
Tabby tried to hold firm, but her lower lip started to tremble. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She was still unsure of herself, but one day she would be every bit as strong a woman as her mother. I only hoped she didn’t carry the same burdens.
“I think you waited until the hallway got quiet and then tried to go back to your room. You thought you’d have a clear path, but your father was still there.”
“Like I would give him the satisfaction of helping him cover up his mess,” she spat. “What would I care if you guys found him in the morning?”
“He would have been on the floor,” I said gently. “A bully helpless for the first time. It… would have been so easy to give him a taste of his own medicine.”
Tabitha’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “No, I stayed with Kenneth that night.”
“They found bruises on your father’s stomach, Tabitha.”
Her lips parted, morphing her expression into one of pure horror. Whatever control she had been using to keep her emotions in check fractured. The tears in her eyes spilled over her cheeks, now covered in red blotches.
My heart ached for her. But I couldn’t help her unless I knew the truth. I moved to the couch and kneeled in front of her.
“Tabitha… did you kill your father?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tabitha buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She shook her head wildly, making her ponytail bounce over her shoulder.
I put my hand on her shoulder and stayed with her. For a young woman so used to secrets, letting even one go must have been both a relief and a shock.
“Tabitha, I want to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me what happened.” Slowly, I reached up and pulled her hands away from her face.
“I just wanted to hurt him,” she said between sobs. “You have no idea what it was like. What he was like. He hurt my mom our first night here. All she did was ask him to slow down.”
“So you went into the hallway?”
She wiped her tears away with trembling fingers. “He was still on the floor, and I could tell he was too blasted to know what was going on. I’d wanted to kick him in his fat beer-belly for years.”
There was venom in Tabitha’s voice. Far more than seemed possible for someone her age.
I licked my lips. “Who helped you get your father back to his suite? Was it Kenneth?”
Tabitha sniffled, shaking her head again. “He wasn’t involved. Uncle Jeremy helped me.”
Of course he had. Jeremy, the brother who thought he’d never have children of his own. Who thought of his nieces as if they were his own. How could he not have helped one of them? How could he refuse to protect her?
“How can you be sure he was alive?”
“I took his pulse. I learned how from a CPR class I took at school. Are you going to tell Detective Reid?”
I’d been afraid Tabitha would ask me that question, because she wasn’t going to like my answer. “If I don’t, you’ll have to. Those bruises need an explanation. What about the wine?”
“I don’t remember seeing it when I left, but I wasn’t really looking.”
“What happened next?”
Tabitha took a shaky breath. “There’s really no way to stop it coming out, is there?”
I shook my head. “Not now that Reid is involved. He’s going to find out the truth. He won’t stop until he does.”
It was simultaneously Conner Reid’s best and worst quality.
“Uncle Jeremy and I figured Dad was too drunk to remember what happened, so we promised to keep it between us.” Tabitha rubbed her forehead.
I almost asked why not tell Reid what had happened, but I already knew the answer.
Ultimately, I didn’t believe Tabitha or Jeremy had killed Harold. And Tabitha not seeing the wine when she left fit with my theory of events. The problem with a family that told this many lies? It was impossible to know whether they were telling the truth.
My stomach sank. No, Tabitha wasn’t telling the truth at all. If Melody heard her and Jeremy dragging Harold back to his suite, someone else had too. I didn’t believe for one second everyone left a frightened twenty-year-old by herself all night. Not after the sounds they would have heard coming from the hallway.
From Melody’s diary, I knew that Catherine had stayed in her younger daughters’ room once she got inside. That left Emily and Kenneth.
As much as he tried to play it cool and seem nonchalant, I didn’t think Kenneth would leave Tabitha to get through that night alone. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he would lie to protect her. Or himself.
Not a single one of them has told the truth. And Tabby’s not telling the whole truth now.
“What am I going to do now?”
I swallowed. When the coroner finished the autopsy, there would be no hiding that Harold Jepsen was murdered. Even if her actions hadn’t ended her father’s life, being a suspect in his murder could ruin Tabitha’s life.
The only way to stop it is to get the truth.
I took her hand and squeezed it between mine. “You’re going to stay here and calm down. When your sisters come back, you’re going to pretend we never had this conversation.”
“What are you going to do?”
What could I do? If they were all willing to lie to Reid, why would they suddenly start being honest with me when confronted?
One of them had already done one of their own.
“I’ll know by dinner.”
I left Tabitha in the sitting room and went straight downstairs to find Danielle.
If I was going to get the truth out of the Jepsen family, dinner would be my last chance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Convincing Danielle to arrange an impromptu sleepover for Alexis and Melody Jepsen—without accidentally letting slip why I wanted them and her out of the way—was trickier than I expected. She was still in super hostess mode, and her sense of hospitality wouldn’t let her abandon the adult guests.
In the end, it took all my powers of persuasion, a promise to set all the junk food we had on hand into the prettiest serving dishes I could find, and an offer to give my sister the rest of the night off for her and Andrew. After four days without a break, the prospect of a night off with her husband and their baby erased all of Danielle’s doubts.
Dinner that night was spaghetti and meatballs. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t have served something so casual to guests like the Jepsens. But with fresh supplies gone or unusable, both staff and guests had to make do with what was edible.
I set up dinner service for the adults family-style. I added a glass of wine for Catherine, a beer for Kenneth, and sweet tea for everyone else.
Then I waited.
Kenneth came down first. Followed by Emily and Jeremy Jepsen who entered arm-in-arm. Catherine and Tabitha were the last to arrive. Tabitha took the seat next to Kenneth. Catherine sat across from her daughter. Now and then, she glanced at her daughter and frowned as if she was sure something was wrong, but didn’t know how to bring it up.
Instead she reached for the pasta dish and served herself a heaping helping.
It’s now or never. I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak. Before I could say a word, Andrew swept into the room. He wore a button-down shirt
and khaki trousers, but the smell of ocean water and mud still clung to him.
“Sorry I’m late for dinner service, folks,” he said. “I had to give the boathouse a once-over. Does everyone have everything they need?”
The guests murmured agreement then went back to their meals. I went over to Andrew and quietly pulled him out into the hallway.
“Didn’t you check in with Danielle?” I whispered.
“Nah, I’d planned to stay out there until dinner so I took a change of clothes. Why?”
“I’m handling dinner on my own. Consider it your night off.”
Andrew furrowed his brow. “Serve seven people by yourself? That’s insane, and probably violates a labor law.”
“Five people. Melody and Alexis are upstairs.” I pointed to the ceiling. “Besides, labor laws don’t mean anything in a family business, right?”
He glanced up then looked back at me, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s going on, Laura?”
I shrugged. “Plausible deniability.”
Andy stared at me for a second in confusion. Then understanding filtered into his eyes. He took a step back and shook his head. “Okay, Laura. I don’t have to know what you’re doing. As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“Just trying to help a family find some closure,” I said. “Enjoy your night off. Give Baby Ben a kiss for me.”
I went back into the dining room. A tense silence had settled over the room, interrupted only by the sound of forks scraping against plates.
Tabitha Jepsen’s eyes met mine. Suddenly, she seemed to sense what I intended to do. She shook her head.
I’m sorry, Tabby, but it has to end.
“I’m sorry to spoil a lovely meal, but if it’s all right with everyone here, I’d like to talk honestly about what happened the night Harold died.”
Not my smoothest moment, but we didn’t have time for subtlety.
Jeremy Jepsen looked at his niece and raised an eyebrow. Tears flooded Tabitha’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Jer,” she said. “I told her. I just… had to tell someone.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”
A Dead And Stormy Night Page 13
