Last Pen Standing

by Vivian Conroy

  “Well, can’t let good wine go to waste,” Halliday said and pulled the glass toward him. “Cheers.”

  Within the next fifteen minutes, he managed to drink Amanda’s wine and his own, while also polishing off both chicken dishes, which were served by a waiter who seemed surprised by the sudden empty spot at their table.

  Delta said, “You have a healthy appetite, Mr. Halliday.”

  “Being outdoors all the time does that to you. Please call me Fred.” He scraped the last bits of chicken together with his fork. “Poor Mandy. She doesn’t seem to be very happy.”

  “That’s logical, considering her sister-in-law was murdered last Friday. Were you at the party?”

  Fred laughed. “The Taylors don’t invite their employees to their parties.”

  It wasn’t really an answer to her question, Delta noted.

  “Finn was at the party,” Hazel said.

  “Yes, but he managed to snare the boss’s daughter.” Fred clicked his tongue. “Pretty Isabel never looked my way.”

  Which isn’t odd, considering he’s old enough to be her father, Delta thought.

  “So you missed the murder?” Delta glanced at him. “How did you find out about it then?”

  “I wasn’t at the party, but I did find out soon enough.” Fred pointed at the lake. “I was out boating.”

  “In the dark?”

  “There was moonlight.”

  Delta tilted her head. She had seen a boat out on the water when she had walked Nugget and Spud. She had assumed it was a fisherman, but what if it had been Fred? She couldn’t imagine him having boated for hours, so at some point he could have come up to the hotel. Had he met up with Amanda, who was in an emotional state after her altercation with Vera?

  Fred was just saying, “I came up, and I saw the police were at the hotel. I asked the clerk what was up, and he told me. He had even seen the dead body. Stabbed with an ice pick.” Fred grimaced. “Must have been a pretty gruesome sight.”

  “I bet the ice pick was from the bar,” Delta mused. “So the killer didn’t bring a weapon but picked one up on the spot. Not premeditated.” She kept her eyes on Fred to see how he took this suggestion. If he had lied about coming up to the hotel after the murder, he could have been there before it had happened. A weapon available on the spot would also have been available to him.

  “Self-defense, even?” Fred asked. “I heard she was a mean little cat.”

  “Did Mrs. White tell you that? I mean, as you were old high school friends, she might have chosen you to confide in.”

  “She didn’t have to. I saw the way they were around each other. Watching and waiting. Who would be first to…” He fell silent and played with the wine glass.

  “Would be first to what?” Delta asked.

  Fred laughed and waved his hand. “Make a stingy remark or buy a new thing. You know how women are among each other.”

  Delta had the distinct impression he had meant something else.

  “Did Mrs. White tell you anything while you were boating that can throw light on the murder?” Hazel asked. She added, after a few moments, “My brother, Finn, has been accused, you know, and I want to help him.”

  Fred nodded. “Of course, of course. I don’t know Finn well, but he certainly doesn’t seem to be the violent type. Too bad he was arrested.”

  “Did Mrs. White tell you anything?” Delta pressed. She had the impression Fred Halliday was an expert in saying a lot but revealing very little.

  Fred shrugged. “No, I can’t say she talked much about her sister-in-law. Or her life at home. I guess she wanted to be away from it all.”

  “That’s understandable,” Delta said, although she wasn’t sure she believed him. Wouldn’t Amanda have dropped something about her relationship with her sister-in-law? Fred could also have seen they differed like day and night. Wouldn’t he have asked about it, how she dealt with it?

  Did he know something he wasn’t about to tell because he liked Amanda?

  “That was delicious.” Hazel pushed her plate away.

  “I’d better get going,” Fred said. He jumped to his feet.

  The waiter came over to their table at once. “Do you want to pay separately or together?”

  Fred said, “You can put the two chickens and the two white wines on Mr. Ralph White’s bill.” He winked at Delta and then left with a cheerful goodbye.

  “He has got some nerve,” Hazel said after the waiter had left to get their bill.

  Delta stared at the empty plates. “He’s a strong man too. He could kill a woman with an ice pick.” She turned to the pages in her sketchbook that held the notes about the murder and added Fred Halliday, connecting him to Amanda with a note: friends in college, met again at the Lodge.

  Her gaze lingered on the notes she had made about Amanda after the high tea with her: Introduced Vera to Herb and Seemed upset when altercation in garden was mentioned and Mrs. C bluffed about a distinctive dress.

  Where Amanda had earlier been almost invisible, she now seemed to take on more relevance in the investigation. How close was she with Halliday? And…had Halliday been at the hotel before the murder?

  Delta wrote the latter question on a yellow note she placed beside Halliday.

  Hazel was following everything she did with interest. “Why would Halliday want to kill Vera White?” she asked softly.

  “No idea, but he didn’t seem to like her while also claiming Amanda had told him almost nothing about her. Isn’t that odd?” Delta leaned back with a sigh. “And I should have asked him if he knew who owns the dark-blue station wagon with the moose on the back. Jonas thinks he saw it before, here in the hotel parking lot. Maybe it belongs to someone on the staff?”

  The waiter brought the bill, and Hazel paid. She waved off Delta’s offer to pay her share back. “You’re doing so much for me, let me treat you.”

  They sat for a few more minutes, looking at the lake and the canoes cutting across the water. The tranquility of the place soothed the anguished questions in Delta’s mind. Going to an antique fair with Hazel would just be like the old days in college, when they had hunted for bargains to decorate their rooms or give to friends. They had always hoped for that one elusive find that would turn out to be worth a fortune. A vase or painting that didn’t look special at first but proved to be a diamond in the rough. So far, it hadn’t happened. But it was nice to speculate about it. Maybe tonight…

  The wind seemed to carry the cold off the snowcapped mountain peaks in the distance. Delta focused on its touch on her face and felt her breathing become deeper. Her eyelids turned heavy, and she was close to falling asleep. What a wonderful place to sit and just let time tick away.

  * * *

  Before Hazel and Delta left the Lodge to get back to Wanted, Delta stopped at the reception desk. “Excuse me, do you happen to have a copy of the Tundish Trader here? Most hotels offer a newspaper to their guests.”

  The clerk turned red. “We normally do have a copy, but, uh…not today. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” He got up and hurried into the back.

  Hazel stared after him. “He seemed eager to get away from us.”

  “Well, the Trader’s front page is probably full of news about the murder, and as it happened here, it would be awkward to have it lying here with a splashy headline or something. His response suggests the Trader might carry something of interest. Can we buy it in town?”

  “Sure, at the grocer’s or the diner. But what do you expect to find in it? The sheriff won’t have told the media much about the case. Whatever the paper has must be hearsay or, even worse, speculation.”

  “Still, speculation can be very interesting. Suppose we ask ourselves, for a change, not who does the sheriff suspect, but who does the town suspect? And foremost, why.”

  Hazel seemed unconvinced. “You know that the editor of the Trader i
s in a fierce competition with his son. They probably think that whoever solves the murder first is the grand winner.”

  “All the better. They’ll work hard to unearth something. Anything.” Delta nodded in satisfaction as she got into the car. “Into town then.”

  * * *

  Once they were in the heart of downtown Tundish, while Hazel went to Wanted, Delta crossed the street to Mine Forever. The large sign on top of the building was adorned with old mattocks and sieves that had rusted under the influence of the Montana seasons. The door handle looked like a clump of gold, sparkly with glitter paint. Delta touched it with a finger to see if it stained, then had to laugh at her own reluctance. She was worried about Mr. LeDuc Sr. lurking somewhere inside, as it had proven to be his breakfast spot the other day, and he might be a frequent diner. But spying through the door’s glass pane, she just saw a lot of ladies milling about. As she entered, the noise of female voices and laughter hit her like a hurricane.

  A waitress, decked out in a Stetson and a suede jacket with fringes, waved at her from behind the counter. “Take any table you like. Coffee and cakes coming up.”

  Delta elbowed her way to the counter anyway. “I’m not with the group,” she said, gesturing at the women. “I guess they’re here for the museum?” Her eye fell to the Tundish Trader, put ready on the counter. The headline seemed to say something about “missing and why?” What was that about?

  The waitress was just explaining. “The huge turnout is for the leaf-peeping photo contest. They’re all amateur photographers.” She leaned over the counter. On her jacket was a name tag reading Terry. “Beats me why we need eleven more shots of gold trees along the lake. But I’m not complaining about the business it brings.”

  “Ah, the Trader,” Delta said. “Can I have a quick look at it?”

  “That’s what it’s there for. Coffee?”

  Delta didn’t really want any after her large lunch but realized it would be rude not to buy something and nodded. “Espresso, please.”

  “Coming up.” Terry turned away to one of the three hyper-modern coffee machines lined up along the wall. Delta picked up the newspaper that was already worn from being leafed through by countless customers. On the front page was a photo, a family portrait of the Taylors, with the headline: Who’s missing here and why?

  Delta thought for a moment that it was the most recent portrait, taken on the night of the party and the murder, and wondered how on earth the newspaper editor had managed to lay hands on it, since Jonas’s memory card was with the police. But then she realized it was an earlier portrait.

  And was that blur on the left-hand side the not-quite-removed silver edge of a frame? Had the clever editor used his phone to snap a pic of a photo standing on the mantelpiece at the Lodge?

  “That’s old news,” Terry said in a disparaging tone, pushing the espresso across the counter.

  At once, the invigorating scent rose into Delta’s nose.

  Terry snorted. “We all know who’s missing in the picture. Rosalyn’s fiancé. And he isn’t coming back either.”

  Delta looked at her. “Who was her fiancé? Did he leave a long time ago?”

  “Two years, I think. It was quite abrupt. He had gone to Europe for the company he worked for. He was an engineer, I think. Or an architect. He never showed his face here, he considered himself too good for that. We only saw his Jaguar breeze through town. Seemed he was always flying across the globe for work. France it was that time he ended it with Rosalyn. She had asked him to find some new wines to serve at the Lodge. From the Rhone valley, or something? I don’t know all those foreign places. Rosalyn even planned to join him there for the last few days of his stay. But he wrote her a letter out of the blue, ending their relationship.”

  “A letter?” Delta said. “He didn’t tell her face-to-face or call her to break up with her?”

  “No, it was a letter all right. The mailman noticed because it had a French stamp and all. He collects stamps, so he even asked Rosalyn if he could have it. But you can imagine that after her reading what it said, she was in no mood to think about stamps.”

  “I see.” Delta took a sip of the espresso. The strong taste rolled across her tongue. “Delicious.”

  “We use the best ground beans around,” Terry said with a proud grin. “People don’t expect it in a small town like this. But we’ve won prizes with our coffee.” She gestured over her shoulder to where some ribbons and certificates sat on the wall.

  Delta nodded. “Impressive.” She tapped her finger on the newspaper photograph. “Had Rosalyn and her fiancé been together long?”

  “About a year, I think. The wedding date was set and all. She had already ordered her dress. There was going to be a big party at the Lodge with all of her friends from college coming over. It was quite the blow to her when it ended.” Terry tutted. “I think it’s tasteless of the Trader to bring it all up again. It can’t have anything to do with the murder.”

  “Do you have any idea who committed the murder?” Delta asked. It was a blunt question, but it might bring something.

  Terry laughed, brushing back her auburn curls. “I couldn’t say. I hardly knew the victim.”

  “I thought the Whites have been all over town? That they even ate here.”

  “That may be true, but when it’s busy, I don’t have time to talk to the guests. I did see them, and I remember she was wearing a really fancy ring with a lot of little diamonds forming a flower and emeralds for leaves. It twinkled whenever she moved her hand.”

  “No, that’s her sister-in-law, Amanda, I think. She was just wearing that ring when I saw her at the Lodge for lunch.”

  “It was the petite woman with the blond hair,” Terry said with a determined nod. “She had these killer lashes. I wanted to ask her where she got them, but my boss doesn’t take kindly to us asking guests such things, you know. Her sister-in-law is the older one, right? I’m sure she didn’t have the diamond ring. I remember thinking her husband was probably too stingy to buy it for her. Didn’t strike me as the generous type at all.”

  Considering Ralph’s behavior when he had spotted his wife having a good time with Halliday, Delta had to admit Terry was probably right. Not generous, even if it was also understandable, as there had just been a death in their family.

  But the ring itself posed the most interesting revelation. If the ring had been Vera’s, then why was Amanda now wearing her dead sister-in-law’s jewelry? How odd.

  Terry excused herself, as she had to pour coffee for the photographers, and Delta thanked her, paid for the espresso, and took her leave.

  Crossing the street to Wanted, she mused about the fiancé who had suddenly broken it off with Rosalyn from abroad. Why then? Had he been a coward who had waited for a chance to end it while he was far away so Rosalyn couldn’t confront him?

  Or was there more to it?

  Just from studying the photographs at the Lodge, Delta had gotten the idea that Rosalyn had been extremely happy when she had been engaged and had become bitter and cold after it had ended. Was this the thing from the past she blamed Ray for? But why would Ray have had anything to do with her broken engagement?

  Back at Wanted, Delta found Hazel demonstrating some calligraphy pens to a woman and her daughter. She had spread a large sheet of paper across the counter and used the different pens to show how the lettering turned out thicker or thinner and what different tips one might insert to reach yet another effect. Delta made a mental note to ask Hazel to go through this with her as well, to ensure that if she had to sell them to customers, she’d know what she was talking about.

  Delta waved in passing and disappeared into the back room. She pulled out her phone and got online, searching for a history of Ray Taylor, football star. It wasn’t hard to find an overview of his career. Two years ago…

  Delta stared at the information for the summer in questio
n. Ray had been in training camp in Europe. In France, to be exact. So Ray had been around when Rosalyn’s fiancé had decided he didn’t want to go on with her. Was that why Rosalyn believed Ray had had something to do with it? It did seem like a curious coincidence.

  But why would Ray want his sister’s engagement to end? Just spite? Ray had said that, at the time, they were rather close, with Rosalyn coming to see games and cheering for him, acting like his biggest fan. Why would Ray suddenly do something to hurt her?

  Delta lowered the phone. Of course, the thing from the past that Rosalyn blamed Ray for could be something else altogether. Still, she pulled up her portable case file and drew a male figure beside Rosalyn. She dug up the role of washi tape she also carried in her bag and connected Rosalyn and the man, writing on the tape Why did it end?

  She connected the man to Ray as well, writing both in France at the time of the breach.

  She put her sketchbook and the phone away and went into the store, where a newly arrived customer was studying the offer of wrapping paper with a look of utter concentration on her face. She explained to Delta that she had to wrap presents to make up five gift baskets they were raffling off for a dog rescue, and she hoped they had something appropriate, with dogs, but nothing too expensive. “There are nine presents in each basket, so I’d need to wrap forty-five in all.”

  “But you might not have to wrap every item in the basket. It could be nice to have people see what some of the items are. Then you can wrap others in this paper with dogs.” Delta pulled out a roll of wrapping paper decorated with little dachshunds chasing each other. “There’s a lot of paper on each roll.” She checked the measurements on the label. “I think if you have an idea how large the presents will be, we could calculate exactly how much you’d need. You could also decide on plain wrapping paper and use a section of this with the dogs to wrap around a part of the present. Like this.” She took the woman to a corner where they had a selection of wrapped-up presents to demonstrate the possibilities.

  “Oh, that’s nice. And I love those labels.”

  “You could put them on the baskets and customize for the winners. Or merely thank them for participating in the raffle, on behalf of the dogs. Add a paw print or something by way of signature? We have paw print stamps.” Delta pointed to the display table with the pumpkins where she had put a selection of rubber stamps.