by Amy Lillard
“Look,” Fern said, making her way to one such table. “They need to clean in here.”
A perfect circle of gleaming wood shone through the thin layer of dust.
“That table is closest to the door,” Helen said. “It’s harder to keep knickknacks by the front door clean. Too much traffic in and out. The dirt just blows right in.”
“There are no knickknacks there,” Fern said.
“There was at one time,” Arlo pointed out, then silently chastised herself for entering into such a ridiculous conversation.
“Whatever it was,” Camille added. “It’s gone now.”
“Maybe someone took it to clean it,” Fern said.
“Ms. Stanley?”
The four of them turned as a man in a suit glided toward them. He carried a cardboard box as if the contents might actually do him physical harm. The odd tilt of his nose suggested they possibly smelled foul as well.
“That’s me.” Arlo gave the man a smile and a small wave.
He thrust the box toward her as soon as he was close enough to relinquish his hold. “Here is the donation you were promised.”
Arlo took the box and bit her tongue. It wasn’t like she had called for the donation. They had contacted her. This Roberts person acted as if he was doing her a favor by giving her books. Okay, maybe he was, but again, she didn’t beg for a freebie. “Thank you,” she finally managed.
“I trust you have a tax receipt for us.”
“I—no,” she said. “But I can mail you one just as soon as I get back to town.”
He gave a stern nod. “The rest of the boxes can be picked up at the service entrance.”
“The rest of the boxes?” Arlo asked. If there were more, why was he bringing her this one?
“That’s right. There are several more boxes around back. Surely you didn’t think I would call you out here for one—” He waved his hand toward the box she held in her arms.
Arlo wasn’t sure how to answer that and was saved the trouble when a large clatter sounded from above. They turned their attention upward just in time to see a person at the head of the stairs topple. Arlo had only a minute to register that the someone was a female, wearing black pants and a white shirt like the maid who had let them into the house. Her blond hair had escaped her ponytail and floated around her face as she tumbled. She didn’t make a sound as she fell, hitting the wall and then the banister before coming to a stop on the polished marble floor.
“Oh, my stars!” Arlo gasped. She dropped the box and rushed to the girl’s side. A tumble like that could be fatal.
Arlo dropped to her knees next to the maid and brushed her hair back from her face. But it wasn’t the maid lying on the cold marble floor, her breath gone forever. It was Haley Adams, the very person they had wanted to see.
Chapter 2
The house remained a flurry of chaos right up to the moment Mads and Jason arrived. Jason Rogers, Mads’s chief officer, was as scattered as Mads was efficient. But his heart was in the right place. Most folks just smiled when his name was mentioned. At least he tries.
Thankfully, Sugar Springs wasn’t typically a hotbed of crime. So, Arlo figured it balanced out in the end.
But today…
They all watched quietly as Roberts covered Haley with a pale yellow sheet. Camille, Helen, Fern, and Arlo stayed in the foyer while the other maid—Sabrina they had learned her name was—called 9-1-1 for help, though no one knew exactly what sort of help they needed. There was no helping Haley. Did one call an ambulance or go straight to the funeral home? When did the coroner get involved? Did he even need to be involved? In the end, they asked for Mads and an ambulance, and decided to let him sort it out when he arrived.
In those long, precious minutes that it took the police to arrive at the mansion, different workers trickled in to witness the scene. Though truly there was nothing to witness; it looked like Haley had simply fallen, probably tripped on her way down the stairs. From there, she tumbled to her death, most likely breaking her neck on the way down.
Simply. Tragic.
And even without the gore or horror—other than a lifeless lump under a plain sheet—Lillyfield employees still made their way through the foyer to get a glimpse of the body.
“Is that Baxter?” Helen nudged Arlo in the side.
She looked up to see a short man in a suit with jet black fringe around a gleaming bald spot and overlarge glasses. Baxter Whitney, Judith’s adopted son, stood near the edge of the room, though it looked as if he had gained a good thirty pounds since Arlo had last seen him. His hair appeared unnaturally dark—had it been that light-sucking black before?—and of course there was a little less of it than there had been the last time he had been in Sugar Springs, but it was undoubtedly the Whitney son returned to Sugar Springs.
“I’d heard he and Anastasia were back in town.” Camille said with a small nod in his direction.
Anastasia Whitney was Baxter’s daughter, too old to be living with Mummy and Daddy but never away for long. She had been married a couple of times, if all the rumors around town were true, but neither one had been successful.
“Because of Judith’s stroke?” Arlo asked.
“Because of Katherine’s”—Helen coughed—“indiscretions. But it’s just a rumor.”
“What?” Fern took that time to join in the conversation. “Baxter’s wife had an affair? With who?”
“I don’t know,” Helen replied. “I don’t even know it’s true.”
“And she didn’t come back to Sugar Springs?” Fern frowned, a little put out, a lot thoughtful.
Camille shrugged. “Not as far as I know.”
“Where did you hear something like that?” Fern demanded.
“You would hear stuff too if you’d let someone do your hair from time to time,” Camille told her. The tone she used was gentle but chastising all the same.
Fern sniffed. “A waste of money if you ask me.”
“But good for information.”
Arlo half-heartedly listened to their banter. It was the same story, different day.
As Mads and Jason commandeered the foyer, they instructed Arlo and the group to remain there until one of them had a moment to talk to them. So far, they had interviewed almost every mansion staff member, leaving the book club waiting. She had called Chloe and told her the condensed-condensed version with promises to fill her in once she got back to the store, explaining that it could be some time before she was allowed to leave.
Instead of listening to the ladies bicker, Arlo watched as, one by one, the interviewed and then dismissed employees scurried off, peeking in from time to time from entryways, before quickly ducking out once again. Soon enough, it was only Arlo, the book club, and Pam the nutritionist left standing in the foyer with police.
Pam, the same woman who had rudely chastised Arlo at Books and More, had rushed down the stairs just after Haley’s fall, immediately barking orders to call the police and an ambulance. She stood over the body like a mother tiger protecting her injured young and wouldn’t let anyone near until Mads and Jason arrived.
When the police got there, she appeared helpful and concerned, though Arlo found her attentiveness somewhat annoying. In the long run, it didn’t matter who called the police, who called the ambulance, or even who witnessed the fall. Haley Adams was still dead.
“I don’t understand what’s taking so long,” Fern grumped. “It was just an accident.”
“There are a lot of people to talk to,” Camille said, her voice as patient as ever. “I suppose they have to make certain it was an accident.”
Fern’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t think she was pushed.”
Helen scoffed. “Of course not. Who would want to push Haley down the stairs?”
“But the police have to be thorough,” Camille added. “I saw it once on CSI.”
She turned her attention to the chief of police.
The coroner had already come and taken the body away, and Jason was over talking to one of the kitchen workers while another officer interviewed one of the gardening staff. There had been a time when the mansion had employed twice what it appeared to today, but Arlo supposed things were tough all over.
“What a mess, huh?” she said by way of greeting.
He nodded. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“Of course.” When she remained standing in the same spot, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her closer to the staircase.
“Can you tell me everything you saw when you came in?”
Arlo frowned. It was weird to see Mads in full cop mode. “Nothing really. The maid—Sabrina—let us in and said she was going to get Roberts.”
“The butler,” Mads confirmed.
“I think they prefer house manager these days.”
“And which direction did the maid go when she left this room?”
Arlo pointed to the doorway under where the staircase became the second-floor landing.
“She didn’t go up the stairs.” It was nearly a question, but not quite.
“No.” Arlo shifted, a little uncomfortable with all the questions. Or maybe she was just fried after standing for hours while they waited to be questioned as the lifeless body of someone they knew had been hauled away.
“Go on,” he prompted. “Then what happened?”
“So, we were waiting for the house manager, and then Haley fell.” And that was all she could remember.
“Did you see anyone else come through the foyer? Go up the staircase?”
She shook her head.
A rumble sounded, and Arlo looked up to see where the noise was coming from. Then the ornate panels behind Mads opened. Two men stepped out. One was Roberts, the house manager, followed by another man short enough that Arlo barely got a glimpse of him as he turned into the doorway and left the foyer behind. All she could see was his bald head and tattooed arms before he was gone.
“I told you!” Fern hollered. “There is an elevator.”
Arlo sighed but didn’t see the need to correct her. She turned back to Mads. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Why were you here in the first place?”
“We came to get a donation for the bookstore.” She pointed to the place where the ladies stood. The one box that Roberts had brought to her was sitting at Helen’s feet.
Mads gave a curt nod. “Well, sorry to tell you that the books will have to remain here for a time.”
“Really?”
“We’re in the middle of an active investigation,” Mads explained. “Nothing in or out until we find out exactly how Haley died.”
* * *
“She fell.” Fern tossed her handbag into one corner of the couch and flopped down next to it. When they had finally been allowed to leave the mansion, they had headed back to the bookstore for their own debriefing. “What else does he need to know?”
“Welcome back,” Faulkner squawked. He was sitting on top of his cage, watching for their return.
“Tell me everything,” Chloe said, rushing Arlo as she came in the door.
Camille sat down in the armchair and placed her handbag primly in her lap. “Unbelievable.”
“Can we get some coffee first?” Arlo asked with an apologetic smile. “It’s been a long day.”
She could tell that Chloe was a little disappointed, but her friend was nothing if not patient. “Of course,” she said. “But after that…”
“I will tell you everything,” Arlo promised.
Chloe headed back behind the coffee bar and started making drinks with Indy 500 speed.
“I just can’t believe that took so long,” Helen said.
“I can’t believe that young girl is dead,” Camille countered.
Everyone went silent. Having to stand in the foyer of the mansion for nearly five hours was nothing compared to the fact that Haley Adams was gone; a young and beautiful girl with her entire life in front of her was now dead.
“The butler did it,” Faulkner chirped. “The butler did it.”
The ladies ignored him.
Arlo wondered if some bright pet company made muzzles for mouthy parrots. She might have to check into that.
“Come and get it,” Chloe called.
The ladies filed up to the counter and grabbed a cup. Chloe motioned for Arlo to sit back down and brought her coffee to her. Then she settled down on one of the couches next to her. “What happened?”
They all started talking at once, each recounting the tale in a different order. Finally, Chloe held her hands up. “One at a time,” she pleaded.
“You tell it,” Arlo said, looking to Helen.
She tossed her braid back over her shoulder and retold the tale, how they had arrived at the mansion and, quickly after, Haley had fallen down the stairs.
As complicated as it seemed and as long as the afternoon was, the whole thing was summed up in just a few short sentences.
“Unbelievable,” Chloe breathed.
“That’s what I said.” Camille nodded in agreement, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
Helen slowly shook her head. “And poor Haley.”
“Poor Courtney,” Chloe clipped.
Camille gasped in response. For a moment they had all forgotten that this would affect her as well.
Chloe sighed and stood. “I guess we’ll have a little extra work to do in the upcoming days.”
“I can help,” Arlo assured her.
Chloe smiled. “I think we’re going to need it.”
* * *
The phone was ringing first thing when Arlo got to the Books and More the following day.
“Arlo and Chloe’s,” Chloe answered, shooting Arlo a look that told her without words that the phone had been ringing nonstop all morning. Books and More might not open officially until nine, but Chloe propped the doors open early, baked muffins, scones, and other tasty treats, and sold them and her unique coffee drinks to anyone who happened by before then. Mostly the customers were other Main Street store owners and a few from the side streets.
“Courtney,” Chloe breathed into the phone.
Arlo immediately stopped unloading her bag and joined her business partner at the coffee counter. She raised her eyebrows and waited patiently for Chloe to give her some clue as to what Courtney was telling her.
“We heard, hon,” Chloe said. “I’m so sorry.”
Arlo pointed to herself, and Chloe nodded. “Arlo too. We’re just sick about what happened.” Once again, she waited for Courtney to say something on the other end of the line. Arlo could hear her voice but couldn’t understand the words. It didn’t matter though; her sorrow and tears were coming through in her tone. Surely that was the reason that Chloe didn’t tell Courtney that they had been there when Haley had spilled down the stairs. There was no sense in upsetting the girl further.
Courtney had started at the Books and More before they even opened their doors. She had helped paint, stock shelves, and decide which couch should go where. She was kind and dependable, and had been a lifesaver when Chloe had been arrested. She had to be taking the death of her sister hard. Courtney and Haley had been as close as sisters could be.
“No, no,” Chloe said gently. “Don’t you worry about it. Take all the time you need, OK? Just keep us posted when you can, and spend this time with your family. Your folks need you now more than ever.”
A few more sentiments and one teary goodbye, then Chloe hung up the phone. She wiped the tears from under her eyes and shot Arlo a rueful smile. “I knew I should have worn my waterproof mascara today.”
Arlo went around the coffee bar and hugged her. They had been through
so much together. Best friends since tenth grade, when Arlo first moved to Sugar Springs. Going into business together. And more recently Chloe being arrested. It had been a long haul for them.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do about her shifts.”
Arlo nodded. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I guess I can just work longer. Or maybe not come in as early.”
Arlo laughed. “I think everyone would revolt if they couldn’t get their morning coffee. Maybe you could teach me how to make the drinks.”
Chloe shot her a look. “Remember how that went last time?”
Disaster was too kind of a word.
A bookstore might have been Arlo’s dream, but Chloe had always wanted to run a little corner café like she had seen in Paris. The coffee shop part of the Books and More wasn’t exactly like those in France, but it was good for Sugar Springs. And maybe one day, they could add a few wrought iron tables and chairs to the front and give the place that Ooh la la feel. Until then, coffee and books in comfy chairs would just have to do.
Arlo held up her hands as if in surrender. “Fine, fine. You win. We’ll come up with a different plan.”
“I do appreciate it,” Chloe said. “But I guess I can stay late.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I just keep thinking about it,” she said. “Haley. She was so young. She had the whole world ahead of her.”
Indeed she had. Haley Adams had been a premed student at Ole Miss, planning to be an obstetrician. She’d had a handsome boyfriend—also premed—that she had dated since junior high. It appeared she had the world by the tail. She was sweet, pretty, and smart. Then to just die like that in a tragic accident. Well, it didn’t seem fair. But as Arlo’s dad had always said, fair was where you went to get cotton candy.
