Two more pictures showed the young couple standing in front of a sports car and waving to the camera. In the last picture, they were both inside, driving off.
“Recognize anybody?” Vivian asked.
Still staring at the pictures, Jesse shuffled through them once more. She shook her head. “No. The boy and the men with him look familiar, but I don’t know why.”
“How about the girl?”
“No. Should she?”
Vivian reached over, took the first picture Jesse had seen and turned it face down. The handwriting on the back said, “Bobby Don and Helen leaving for her Senior Prom. So happy. So in love.”
Jesse stared at the words, forgetting to breathe. Bobby Don? Helen? Not Mandy. Helen?
Retrieving the other pictures from Jesse’s hands, Vivian sorted through them and handed one back. Jesse took the picture of the boy—Bobby Don—with the two older couples and stared at it. The two men could be…
“Brothers?” she whispered.
Vivian’s red fingernail tapped the image of the tanned man with the strawberry blond hair. “Brandon Carmichael.” Her finger moved to the elegant blonde beside him. “Amanda. With Bobby Don and his parents, apparently before he left to pick up Helen at her mothers’ house.”
“Bobby Don took Helen Oglethorpe to her Senior Prom?” Jesse asked.
“So happy. So in love,” Vivian quoted.
“You don’t suppose…”
“That Bobby Don is the father of Trisha and Treena? That would explain Treena’s resemblance to Brandon Carmichael. And it might explain why Amanda would rescue them when Helen was abandoned halfway across the country.”
“It wouldn’t explain why Amanda offered Bobby Don a job and brought him to live practically under the same roof with Helen and her children.”
“It might.” Vivian held up a finger. “I have more evidence.” She gathered up the pictures and carried them back to the bed. Then she picked up Fisher’s laptop and started tapping on the screen. “I was studying some of the documents on here while you were gone.”
“Oh, speaking of those documents.” Jesse hurried over to her. “I need to look at that flash drive again. I think there may be something on there that explains why Nettie’s flipping out.”
“All in good time. First, take a look at this.”
Vivian swiveled the screen toward Jesse to reveal the page with the salaries and compensations on it for each of her employees.
“I looked at that earlier,” Jesse said. “I just didn’t understand a lot of it.”
“Did you notice this?” Vivian’s fingertip pointed to the subtractions to Bobby Don’s salary.
“Yes. But, again, I didn’t know what it meant.”
“And this?” Vivian pointed to the amounts added to what looked like a fund for Trisha and Treena.
“Education?” Jesse guessed.
Vivian shrugged. “Or child support.” Her finger moved from the amount next to Bobby Don’s name to the amount next to the mysterious fund for the two girls. “They are the same, Jesse. And it’s every pay period. I’ll bet if we found records going back to when Amanda hired Bobby Don, we would find the same deduction and deposit.”
“Child support? Because Bobby Don is…”
Vivian leaned forward eagerly. “…is the father of Helen’s children,” she said, finishing Jesse’s sentence. “Why else would Amanda have allowed him to live side by side with them for all these years? It’s the only thing that makes sense. She gave him a job and held child support out of his salary as part of the deal. Now, what was it that you wanted to look at?”
“Holy moly.” Jesse pressed her palms to the sides of her head. “Give me a minute. My brain feels like it may explode. I wasn’t expecting Peyton Place.”
“Apparently you’ve been underestimating my generation, darling. We were extremely good at hiding scandal.” Vivian poked at the screen a few times, taking it back to the list of files. “Now, what am I looking for here?”
“The household accounts.” Jesse answered absently. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and walked over to stand next to Vivian.
When the pages appeared on the screen, Jesse scanned down to the food costs for the households in Oklahoma and Washington. Then she moved on to the utilities, the cleaning, miscellaneous, landscaping, the physical maintenance of the properties and every other category covering two properties going back over the last two years.
“Notice anything peculiar?” she asked, pointing from the column for Drake’s Rest to the property outside Myrtle Grove. “Like food. Look at that. And cleaning products.”
The amount in the column for Drake’s Rest was consistently higher than the one for the house in Oklahoma, sometimes by a small amount, sometimes by quite a bit, but always higher.
“This house is a lot bigger than the one back home,” Vivian pointed out. “I can see where cleaning products might run higher.”
“But there’s one person cleaning here,” Jesse said. “And one person living in the house. Gordon apparently lives over the garage. And look at the food bill.”
They both looked at the comparative food costs, which weren’t small amounts for either place, but were almost double for the island estate, where only two people lived.
“Maybe food costs here are a lot higher,” Vivian suggested.
“If they dined on steak and champagne every night, two people couldn’t eat that much.”
“Do you suppose that’s why Amanda had these spreadsheets? Do you think she planned to accuse Nettie of embezzling?” Vivian asked.
“I think she might have done it the same night she got here.” Jesse felt her heartbeat quicken when she remembered that Amanda had asked to meet with Nettie. “And Amanda must have had a laptop, which we can’t find. So where is it? Did someone take it to hide what’s on it? We think she was hit in the head with something before she fell. Maybe it was the laptop, which Nettie then disposed of to hide both of her crimes.”
“Or maybe they argued in Amanda’s office, and she was fleeing up the staircase instead of down,” Vivian said, picking up on Jesse’s train of thought. “If Nettie caught up with Amanda on the landing, the scene would look the same.”
“Of course, this is just wild speculation,” Jesse cautioned. She wouldn’t let herself believe they had just solved the crime. Nothing in life could ever be that simple.
“Right,” Vivian agreed. “We have no proof at all.”
“But it sounds really plausible, doesn’t it?”
“Unfortunately, it sounds a little too plausible,” a third voice said, startling the other two.
Jesse whirled to find Nettie Shoemacher emerging from a section of the walnut paneling adjacent to the bedroom’s door. She took a step farther into the room and motioned with the pistol in her hand.
“Why don’t you take a seat while I figure out what to do with you? Both of you. Sit on that bench and don’t move.”
“What are the odds this gun has bullets?” Jesse asked, showing bravado that wasn’t entirely real. Just in case, she took a seat on the bench as directed.
“Different gun. This one’s loaded. Don’t make me prove it.” It was the serene smile on the woman’s cherubic face that made the threat sound believable.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“So,” Vivian asked after taking her place next to Jesse, “how close were we? In our deductions, that is? Just out of curiosity?”
Nettie continued to smile. Her fluffy gray hair and her chubby cheeks made her seem disarming and not the least bit threatening. But her dark, flat stare was like looking into the eyes of a snake.
“Well, now, I’m afraid that could be one of those questions that if I answered it, I just might have to kill you. So, are you sure you really want an answer?”
“Not really,” Jesse said. “Besides, we were just thinking out loud. We have no proof.”
“I didn’t think she had those spreadsheets backed up,” Nettie answered, still grinning as if some
thing about the whole situation amused her. “I’d be obliged if you would remove that thumb drive and toss it over here.”
Vivian sat there, staring back at the other woman. Jesse, on the other hand, was in no hurry to push the issue while looking down the barrel of a gun.
“Sure,” she said and reached behind her for Fisher’s laptop. Exiting out of the file, she ejected the flash drive and turned back around with the tiny device extended.
“Toss it,” Nettie said. “Gently.”
Jesse gave it a soft, underhanded toss and watched it arc through the air across the ten feet or so separating them from their armed captor. With her free hand, Nettie snagged the thumb drive from the air and stuck it into the pocket of her cargo pants—not what she had been wearing when she had rolled into the sea with her arms locked around Jesse.
That would mean that their captor must have gone back to her room at some point, which, in turn, added credence to her claim that this newest gun was loaded.
“Surely you aren’t planning to just stand there pointing that thing at us,” Vivian said, beginning to show impatience. “This house is full of people and the others should be returning soon.”
“Or not.” Nettie’s smile blossomed. “I believe they vowed not to return without me. And Bethany is, if you will excuse the pun, tied up at the moment.” She chuckled, clearly pleased with herself.
“Jesse!” The sound of pounding feet in the hallway accompanied a woman’s shout. “Jesse!”
Taking a step backward, Nettie melted into the dark opening in the wall behind her just as the bedroom door burst open.
Celeste flung herself into the room. “You have to come quick!” She paused to gasp for air before adding, “I can’t get Treena to wake up!”
From behind Celeste, Nettie reemerged from the paneling and pushed the door to the hallway closed.
“No need to worry.” She spoke in the same eerily calm, slightly amused voice she had used since appearing from the wall the first time. “She’s just napping. She’ll wake up in a bit.”
Celeste whirled, took one look at the other woman and sucked in her breath to scream. Nettie shoved the gun an inch deep into Celeste’s diaphragm.
“Do it, and it’s the last sound you’ll ever make. Now go sit next to them.” Nettie jerked her head toward Jesse and Vivian.
Celeste’s only response was a whimper. Visibly shaking, she made her way to the bench and sat on the narrow edge next to Jesse.
“Treena looks dead,” Celeste accused in a tone wavering between sulky and defiant.
“Well, she’s not,” Nettie answered with an irritable scowl. “This is turning into a freaking traffic jam in here.” She drew in a deep breath, making an effort to collect herself. “Now, everybody, just shut up. I’ve got to think.”
“Could I ask a question first?” Vivian asked.
“No!” Nettie snapped.
“How many secret passageways are in this place?” Vivian asked anyway.
“It’s riddled with them. Now, will you shut up?”
“Can we talk among ourselves?” Vivian inquired.
“No! What part of shut up don’t you get? Shut up!” Nettie waved the gun in their direction, as if threatening all of them.
Vivian heaved a sigh, cast a rebellious eye roll in Jesse’s direction, and fell silent.
A scowl etched on her face, Nettie paced from the open panel to the dressing table on the other side of the bedroom door and then back again. Tossing a warning glance toward the three sitting on the bench, she repeated her path.
Jesse’s gaze followed Nettie as far as the dressing table and stopped. Amanda’s things were there still—a sterling silver brush with a matching comb and hand mirror, a spray bottle of perfume, a porcelain jewelry box with the lid off and pearls draped over the side—all reflected in the circular mirror attached to the dainty table. The whole tableau, including a glamorous portrait of the young Amanda clad in black, looked like something out of a 1950s movie. It was elegant and hauntingly sad at the same time.
This whole situation seemed like that. A beautiful home in a fairytale setting, rich in history and atmosphere. A wealthy older woman and her entourage. A group of people who could have had or been whatever they wanted. Yet they chose to link their lives to one person and wait for the scraps that fell from her table.
And Nettie Shoemacher, a woman who had a child with her married employer, then surrendered that child in exchange for cash—only to return years later as housekeeper to that same son, still hiding her secrets. Now alone, she continued on in the one home she had clung to through everything, working for a stranger while abusing the trust placed in her by embezzling.
What would drive someone to do that, Jesse wondered. Why would anyone do any of that? It seemed almost like an obsession, but with what—the child, the money, or with the house itself? All three belonged to someone else and always had, never to Nettie herself.
“Perhaps we could help,” Vivian offered, apparently having remained silent for as long as she could.
Nettie ceased pacing and turned to face the three seated on the bench. “What?” she demanded impatiently.
“Perhaps we could help,” Vivian said again. “You seem to be in a quandary, and I was thinking that we might have some suggestions. What specifically are you trying to decide?”
Waving the gun as she spoke, Nettie snapped, “Whether I should kill you, drug you, or just tie you up.”
“Well, now, see?” Seeming pleased, Vivian spread her hands, palms up. “We can help, since I’m fairly certain that you killed Amanda in the heat of the moment, not really intending to, and without premeditation.”
Vivian put a hand on Jesse’s arm. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Jesselyn, but if Nettie here were to kill us, that would significantly increase her sentence once she’s caught, don’t you think? Since the three of us would be multiple murders that were obviously planned ahead of time.”
Afraid to look toward the woman with the gun, Jesse stared back at Vivian and wondered if this game they were playing had a name, other than Antagonize the Killer, which was a game she would rather not play.
Vivian smiled encouragingly, and Jesse answered on cue, “Well, yes, Vivian, I think you’re right. Amanda’s death was arguably an accident. Whereas the death of anyone else in an attempt to cover up the first death…”
Jesse forced herself to take a breath and collect her thoughts, which were in danger of unraveling into gibberish. “Uh, yes, a second death, or third, would clearly be premeditated and possibly become a capital offense.”
She barely avoided a shudder and could only hope she had provided what Vivian had been wanting. In the background, she heard Celeste begin to weep softly.
Then, against all her instincts, Jesse lifted her gaze to Nettie. “I do have a question of my own, though, just out of curiosity. Why did you inflate the expenses on this place? You had to realize it would be noticed eventually.”
The woman’s brows went up in surprise. Then her features quickly rearranged themselves in dismissal. “Why not? I’ve been padding the expenses on this place for years, and no one ever paid any attention before. You’d think with as much money as Mrs. Carmichael had, she wouldn’t have worried about something like that. It’s not like I was getting rich. Just a little extra for my retirement.”
“You mean you embezzled from your own son?” Vivian demanded.
“I grew up here!” Nettie shouted. “I should have been married to his father. But I wasn’t good enough. I was just a village girl.” Her tone made the words sound like an obscenity. “No, he had to marry someone from society, someone with money, someone who couldn’t even give him a child. So they took mine.”
Vivian harrumphed, low in her throat, a clear sign that she had more to say but was refraining. Jesse could only be grateful for small blessings since they had clearly struck a nerve in someone who was teetering on the edge.
“Why don’t you just leave?” Celeste suddenly cried ou
t. She drew in a huge gasp of air and then continued around a heaving sob, “We can’t hurt you. We’re on an island, for heaven’s sake. In the middle of nowhere. With no way off.” She paused for another shaky intake of breath. “Just leave,” she begged. “No one will stop you.”
“You think I haven’t tried?!” Nettie threw her hands in the air, waving the gun wildly. “It doesn’t work. This place keeps bringing me back! He keeps bringing me back!”
“What he?” Vivian asked impatiently. “Your son? His father? They’re both long dead and no excuse for the things you’ve done. Stop this dithering and make up your mind one way or the other. I’m getting tired of all this jaw flapping.”
“Not that he, you stupid cow!” Nettie shouted. “Him!” She looked around the room, her eyes huge, as if seeing something they didn’t.
“Oh, Lord love a duck,” Vivian said under her breath. “We’re dealing with a deranged person.”
“And you can quit irritating her any time you would like,” Jesse whispered in return.
Celeste threw back her head and began to wail as if she had given up all hope of seeing another sunrise.
Nettie pointed her pistol in the general direction of all three of them and screamed, “Shut up!” just as Lady Jane Grey came scrambling through the open panel in the wall straight toward the crazy lady with the gun.
Chapter Thirty
The only sound the dog made was the rapid tapping of her toenails on the wood floor, and even that ended as she launched herself into the air toward the pants leg nearest her. Hitting knee high with the full impact of her small body, Lady clamped down on the cargo pants and dangled there. Her bushy tail swept the floor as her hind feet shoved at the cuff of the pants.
Nettie sidestepped while turning toward the weight that squirmed against her calf. Gun forgotten, she held her hands in the air and twisted in a half circle, looking down the length of her body at the swath of fur attached to her leg at the knee.
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 22
