“Honestly, Charlie, you don’t know anything about the people who live around here,” Melba said.
“For the most part I know what I need to know,” I replied with some asperity. “I’m not a walking genealogy of everybody in Athena like you are, for Pete’s sake. I was gone from here for thirty years, remember?”
Melba grimaced at me, but evidently she decided to let the remark about being a walking genealogy pass without comment.
I turned to Kanesha. “I had never even considered Betty Camden as a suspect,” I said. “You must have, since you knew the connection.”
Kanesha nodded. “Yes, I was aware of that, and frankly, I thought you knew, even though you never mentioned it. Otherwise I would have said something about it.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. I guess I’m going to have to start paying more attention to who’s related to who in this town. You can get tripped up pretty easily if you don’t know.”
“You certainly can,” Melba said. “I never dreamed you didn’t know about her.”
“I remember you said you don’t like her, and she doesn’t like you,” I said. “You never said why, though.” I thought for a moment. “She’s got to be several years older than us, so surely it wasn’t something to do with high school.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Melba said. “Chip Camden was a widower, about twenty years ago, and I went out with him for six months. Then Betty Jones—she was a widow—started chasing him. He dropped me for her, and she went around bad-mouthing me, saying she had saved Chip from a terrible mistake.”
That all this still rankled, even after two decades, was obvious. Melba wasn’t usually one to hold a grudge, but I could understand why she held on to this one. What a nasty thing to do.
Kanesha had listened to this without reaction. Once Melba stopped talking, the deputy looked at me for a moment.
“Since you weren’t aware that Mrs. Camden and Mr. Albritton are siblings, you might also not be aware of Mrs. Camden’s background in education.”
“I know she is a retired teacher,” I said. “But I have no idea what she taught.”
“Yes, she retired three years ago,” Kanesha said. “She taught high school chemistry and biology for twenty-five years before that.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Chemistry. The word resounded in my brain. If she was adept at chemistry at all, then Betty Camden would be as capable of making her own cyanide as Tammy Harville.
The suspect list now included Deirdre Thompson—still my favorite—along with Billy Albritton, Betty Camden, Jincy Bruce, and Tammy Harville. The final two on my list I considered less likely, although if Jincy had embezzled all that money, that was a strong motive. I thought the family connections that Gerry had had with the other three were far more likely to be the source for the motive to kill.
“Any hard evidence that points to one of the suspects?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Kanesha replied. “I really need to track down that brandy snifter. I don’t know how the killer managed to get it out of the house.”
“In a purse,” Melba said. “A man couldn’t have smuggled it out without a bulge under his jacket, I’d imagine. So probably a woman.”
“I’ve considered purses. The poison certainly could have been brought into the house that way, or in a pocket,” Kanesha said. “But the purses I saw when I arrived were all those small bags that women carry at parties. I didn’t notice one that would have been big enough to conceal that snifter.”
An image popped into my head. I had no idea of its source, but it sparked an idea. “When the house was searched, did you turn up any fragments of glass or crystal?”
Kanesha regarded me thoughtfully. “No, we didn’t. I thought of that, because that would have been a way to destroy the evidence and make it difficult to analyze. What are you getting at?”
“Here’s a possible scenario,” I said slowly, visualizing it as I put it into words. “The murderer, in this case a woman, picks up the snifter while everyone is staring at Gerry, collapsed on the floor. The woman, pretending to be overcome by the shock, stumbles away and takes refuge in the bathroom. She locks herself in, puts her purse and the snifter aside. Then she takes one of the hand towels set out for guests, unfolds it, and wraps the snifter in it. Then she puts it on the floor, wrapped, and stomps on it.”
“And now that it’s broken into a lot of pieces,” Melba said, excited by my idea, “she can stick it into her purse, still in the hand towel, and slip out of the house. In all the confusion, probably nobody will notice she’s gone until later.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I don’t recall seeing either Deirdre Thompson or Betty Camden after the cops arrived. Certainly they were not there when we were all shepherded into the dining room. Either one of them could have absconded with the broken snifter the way I described it. With Melba’s help.” I grinned at her.
“It could work,” Kanesha said. “And if I can get a hold of the purses they brought to the party, they can be examined for traces of the snifter and the poison.” She shook her head. “It’s a long shot, but if the evidence is there, the lab should be able to find it.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to get search warrants?” I asked.
“I believe so,” Kanesha said. “With the story Ms. Gilley heard from Mrs. Norwood, which I am going to verify with her as soon as possible, and the fact that Mr. Albritton broke in to the deceased’s house, I think I can make a pretty good case. It will depend on the mood the judge is in today.”
“Are you going to be examining anyone else’s purses?” I said.
“Yes,” Kanesha said, “along with pockets in jackets and pants, even in dresses, depending on what the suspects wore to the party. I’ve got good descriptions from several people of what the women wore, though not so much the men.”
“Good luck,” I said. “I hope you can solve this thing soon.”
“She will,” Azalea said unexpectedly, startling the rest of us. Kanesha regarded her mother with her frustratingly unreadable expression, but mother and daughter appeared to understand each other.
Kanesha rose. “Thank you both for all the information, and the idea about how the snifter could have been taken out of the house. If that is how it was done, I hope I won’t be too late in finding any remaining evidence.”
I started to rise, but Kanesha waved me back. “I can find my way out,” she said. “I’ll be in touch later.”
She headed out of the room with our further wishes for good luck following her. Azalea stared after her daughter for a good thirty seconds, her expression every bit as unreadable as Kanesha’s. The two women were so much alike, it was uncanny. I wasn’t sure they saw that, however, perhaps each thinking the other was the truly difficult, frustrating one. Azalea departed the room, and moments later I heard her heading upstairs.
I chuckled as another thought popped into my mind.
“What’s funny?” Melba asked.
“All of a sudden I thought about how things have changed since that first murder several years ago,” I said.
“You mean Godfrey Priest?” Melba said.
I nodded.
“What’s changed?” Melba asked.
“Kanesha,” I said. “In the beginning I always thought I was about to be arrested as the chief suspect. Now, even though we’re not bosom buddies, she actually seems to respect my opinion on certain things. Although,” I continued slowly, “I don’t think she’ll ever truly like me as long as Azalea works here.”
“That’s her little quirk,” Melba said. “And her mother’s. You can’t help that.”
“No, and at least now she doesn’t glower at me the whole time I’m in her presence.” I chuckled again.
“What’s that word they use?” Melba asked. “Détente?”
“Yes, that’s it. Kanesha and I have achieved détente.”
Me
lba suddenly changed the subject back to the murder. “Who do you think did it? I know who I think is guilty.”
I thought about it briefly before I answered. “In some ways, frankly, I don’t really care which of them did it. I don’t know any of them, really, except for Betty Camden. I don’t know her well at all. But if I had to pick one of them, I’d say Deirdre Thompson. From everything I’ve heard, she’s the most unpleasant of them all. There’s the financial motive as well, if Gerry could have been successful in getting what Mr. Halbert left her in his will.”
“I think Betty Camden did it,” Melba said. “And not because I don’t like her to begin with. She likes to pretend she’s so classy because she married Chip Camden. He’s from an old Athena family, one with class and money, unlike her. She barely managed to get through college. She had to work and get scholarships, and then she married a bum named Wally Jones.”
“What’s the point in this?” I asked, tired of waiting for her to get to the crux.
“The point is,” Melba said, glaring at me, “she’s so status-conscious it’s ridiculous. Do you think she’d want people in this town to know about the brother that her father sold to Mr. Halbert? The brother who turned himself into a sister? No siree Bob, she wouldn’t. She’s not exactly the enlightened type. I think she’d do anything to keep that news from getting out.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “I’m hoping Kanesha finds the evidence soon.”
“If it’s there, she will.” Melba rose, giving Diesel a last rub on the head. “I’d better get going. You’re probably ready for a little peace and quiet.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Before you go, would you like to look in on the kittens?”
She hesitated. “Oh, why not?”
Diesel trotted ahead of us to the living room. He sat by the cage and watched the kittens, all asleep at the moment.
“They’re so precious,” Melba said.
“One or more of them could be yours soon,” I said.
“Have you found out where they came from?” she asked.
“Yes, earlier today.” I told her about the note I had left. “Turned out to be Tommy Russum, the solo boy soprano in the choir at Helen Louise’s church.”
“Did he give you the full story behind his bringing them to you?”
“Yes, the case of the mean old stepfather, according to Tommy,” I said. “His stepfather is a cardiologist, Henry McGillivray. I often see him and Tommy’s mother, Ellen, when I go to church with Helen Louise.”
“I’ve heard the name,” Melba said. “He’s supposed to be top-notch, but that’s all I know about him.”
“He can be a little gruff, in my experience,” I said. “Never downright rude, but he always gives the impression that he doesn’t have much time.”
“Those people are always irritating,” Melba said. “Usually think they’re way more important than you.”
“That might be the case with Dr. McGillivray, though Ellen McGillivray is a genuinely warm and friendly person,” I said. “I know nothing about Tommy’s father, though I think he passed away when Tommy was small.”
“So the good doctor doesn’t want cats around the house?” Melba asked.
“According to Tommy,” I said. “I’m trying to make up my mind whether I should try to talk to the man and Mrs. McGillivray about the situation. I don’t want to cause trouble for Tommy, but it really burns me up that Mr. McGillivray seems to be ignoring how important those kittens are to the boy.”
“I hope you do talk to him,” Melba said. “The man needs to learn a little compassion, seems to me.”
“We’ll see,” I told her. “I expect we’ll see them at the church on Christmas morning. I’m not in the mood to tackle him right now.”
“Good luck,” Melba said. “See you Sunday.”
Diesel stared after her forlornly as she headed out the door. I felt curiously flat myself, now that the murder investigation was so close to an end—provided, as always, that there was reliable evidence for Kanesha to make an arrest.
“How about we go play with the kittens?” I said to Diesel, and he warbled and darted toward the living room. I followed slowly, continuing to think about the investigation.
Odd how it seemed to happen like this pretty much every time. Insert one previously unknown piece to the puzzle, and things shifted around and gave you a much more complete picture. Putting together Gerry Albritton’s background and finding the connections with the two siblings and her adoptive sister had been the key.
Jincy Bruce was an outlier. There was still the matter of the embezzlement. She and Gerry appeared to me to be the only suspects. Surely Jared Carter wouldn’t embezzle from himself. Jared was even more of an outlier than Jincy. Unless his relationship with Gerry was more than simply a business arrangement? Things could have turned ugly if Jared hadn’t known Gerry’s full story. He might not have understood the true significance of her use of the name Ronni Halliburton. Did he know anything about Ronnie Halbert? That would be for Kanesha to figure out.
As much as I detested Deirdre Thompson, now that I knew so much more about her, I wasn’t sure she really was the murderer. I simply thought she was the nastiest of the bunch and the most likely to kill to protect her family name and her money. People had murdered in the past for each of those reasons on its own. Combined, they became even more powerful. Billy and Betty were probably motivated by the desire to protect the family name. Billy was a politician, and he might have ambitions for a higher office than that of city councilman. Betty might want to protect her brother as well as herself. Chip Camden was high-powered, and they moved in pretty important circles in town and in the state. He also nursed political ambitions, and a scandal like the truth behind Gerry Albritton’s identity might harm his chances irreparably.
I realized I had been standing in front of the cage, blind to the kittens who were now awake and wanting to be let out. Diesel had been meowing at me, too.
“Sorry, kids,” I said. “Time to play.” And time to push all thoughts of murder out of my brain for a while. I settled down to enjoy the kittens and think about them instead.
THIRTY-FIVE
To my great joy and relief, Sean informed me before lunchtime the next day, Christmas Eve, that Alex felt strong enough to spend time with the family that evening. I happily scrapped my rather chaotic plans to try to take Christmas Eve to her and instead concentrated on everything I needed to get done around the house.
Despite my inability to carry a tune in a bucket, as the old saying went, I scurried around the house that day singing snatches of my favorite Christmas songs, chief among them “Silent Night” and “Joy to the World.” Not for the first time did I wish that the joyful noise I was making could be in tune as well. Both my children had pleasant singing voices, especially Laura, who had done musicals in high school and college. It had to have come from their mother’s side of the family, because I didn’t remember that either of my parents could sing any better than I could.
Stewart helped bring the decorations down from the attic, and he had arranged for a friend with a pickup to deliver the tree he had picked out at a local Christmas tree farm. The tree was scheduled to arrive no later than three this afternoon. That would give us time to get it set up before family started arriving around four thirty. We would start decorating the tree together then.
The doorbell rang a little after two, and I went to answer it, expecting to see Sean’s friend with the tree. It took me a moment to recognize the man on the doorstep. Dr. Henry McGillivray, noted cardiologist, and stepfather to Tommy Russum, appeared to be in an irritable state of mind.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Harris,” he said. “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about my son.”
“Certainly, I’ll be happy to talk to you about Tommy.” I stood aside and motioned him in. I noted with interest, and approval, that he
referred to Tommy as his son, not as a stepson.
A tall, powerfully built man who exuded an air of authority, Henry McGillivray was around forty. He seemed uneasy, however, and that surprised me. All the times I had seen him in church, he never appeared in the least unsure of himself. He had impressed me as a man who was always in control and was a stickler for detail.
After taking his overcoat and putting it on the rack in the hall, I led him to the kitchen. I didn’t want to confront him with Tommy’s kittens right away.
“Please have a seat,” I said. “Can I offer you something to drink? Sweet tea, a soft drink? The mulled cider isn’t quite ready yet.”
“No, thank you,” McGillivray said. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m glad you came by,” I told him as I took my place at the table. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Tommy and his kittens.”
In a brusque tone he said, “I’m happy to reimburse you for any expense you’ve incurred because of them.” He reached inside his jacket.
“There’s no need,” I said. “Tommy actually gave me money to help pay the expenses.” I watched him closely. He was obviously surprised at this information. His hand faltered, and then he pulled it back.
“Really?” he asked. “Where did he get the money?”
“He said it was from his allowance. It seemed important to him that he helps pay for them.”
McGillivray frowned. “That’s good, and it shows he does have a responsible side after all. But his allowance isn’t large. It can’t be enough.”
“It’s enough for me,” I said, trying to keep my tone level. “I’d say Tommy is quite a responsible boy. I have no reason to doubt what he told me. He found a starving cat, took care of her and fed her, and then he found himself with five kittens. He was doing what he could to look after them, despite apparent parental opposition. When he felt he could no longer keep them safe and warm, desperation drove him to me. I guess everyone in the neighborhood knows about me and my cat.”
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