“He was looking for her killer,” I said. “At least that’s what he was pretending to do. But I have some news to share too.”
Dietrich swirled a lanky finger in the air as if conjuring something. “Do tell.”
“Stone is down at the police station now for questioning.”
Dietrich’s face fell. “What? Why? Do we need to get a lawyer for him?”
“Stone will probably have to get his own lawyer, if things go the way I think they are.”
I stopped speaking as recognition crept across Dietrich’s face. He was putting things together, and in just a moment he’d see—
“Hang on. Do you mean they’re looking at Stone for Margo and Frannie’s murders? Is that what you’re saying to me right now?” His eyes turned wild.
I placed a steadying hand on his arm. “It’s possible.”
“I never should’ve trusted him. And if he was the father of Margo’s baby, she didn’t trust him, either,” Dietrich spat out.
“Why do you say that?”
“That night Margo told me she was pregnant, she wouldn’t say who the father was. But she told me he was dangerous, and she was afraid he’d do something crazy. I told her she had to get protection and she said she was going to talk to some kind of security guy about it.”
Val. So she really had planned to talk with him, but not about dating. About protection.
Dietrich was getting worked up. He bounced his legs in a frenzied beat. “I knew I should’ve walked her out that night, but I couldn’t get past the fact she’d had a baby with another man. It blew my mind, you know?”
I nodded. “So where’d you go after talking with her?”
“Back to the billiards room. Stone stuck around for maybe ten more minutes, then he stumbled out and said he was heading to bed. The party basically broke up then. I walked Frannie out to her car, and I think Stone’s driver took Jet and Sophie back to their place. As far as I knew, Margo left directly from the study after she dropped her big news on me. “
“That still means it’s possible Stone killed her,” I said.
Dietrich pondered. “I guess so. I mean, I saw him putting quite a few drinks down, but he could’ve been faking somehow. Being drunk off his gourd would be a great alibi, right?”
“Except he didn’t use it. He told the cops he was in the billiards room all night.” I was getting confused. What if Dietrich was feeding me a line of baloney? Why had he come all the way to Greenwich just to volunteer information, anyway?
I stood. “You need to go. I have to think about things.”
He stood and rubbed his goatee. “You and me both. I don’t know whether I should go in to the police with my story, especially since Stone’s down there right now.”
“You could call them,” I offered. “Detective Watson’s the one you’d want to ask for.”
“Got it. I’ll do that,” he said. “And Belinda, seriously, you have to be more careful. You were running all over town with Stone. He could’ve killed you, too.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I walked Dietrich to the door. “Thanks for coming by and filling me in. I guess we’ll both have to wait and see how things play out.”
I didn’t offer to meet Dietrich again, because I was having second thoughts about his story and I needed to figure out how it held up. At the very least, I could hunt down Jet or Sophie, whoever they were, and verify whether Stone had been drunk or not.
I closed the door behind Dietrich and flipped both my locks. It was time to retreat in my little carriage house and try to make sense of things.
I could scrounge meals from what I had in the house while I mulled things over; maybe work up a new game article to clear my head.
I absently picked up my phone and flipped through my phone contacts, wishing I had someone local to confide in. Scrolling down, I saw Frannie’s name, which triggered an unexpected torrent of tears. What had she ever done to anyone? All she’d wanted was a warm, home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner, for the love of everything.
I noticed my voice mail symbol had lit up. I glanced over my unopened messages. The most recent ones were from Stone, and I couldn’t bring myself to play them. But there was an older one—from Thanksgiving Day.
Frannie had called me.
I turned the volume up and pushed the play button. Her familiar voice sounded so alive.
“Hi, Belinda. Listen, I’m over at the Carringtons’ for Thanksgiving dinner today. I want to test a little theory I have. I’ll let you know how it works out. I’m not telling Stone yet”—she gave a nervous giggle—“but you’ll know when I do!”
That was it. She gave no clue as to what her theory was, though her manner and words seemed to indicate she could’ve suspected Stone for some reason. The poor woman hadn’t known she was going to die the same day.
I cried even harder when it hit me that for once, she’d gotten my name right.
Chapter 23
By nighttime, Rasputin had gotten a bit more active. Although I could never tell when he was asleep, because snakes didn’t have eyelids, he was definitely moving around more than he had recently. I hoped he’d be in top form for his reunion with Reginald on Sunday.
After fixing myself some pancakes and drenching them with syrup Mom had sent, I proceeded to binge-watch three hours of TV, because I didn’t feel like writing. Then around midnight, my phone rang.
Stone’s number popped up, so I guessed this wasn’t his one call from jail.
“Belinda, sorry to bother you, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on. We need to talk. Can I come over?”
He had to be kidding me. After two women showed up dead in my flowerbed, he thought I was going to open my door to any man in the middle of the night?
“I was just about asleep. Can you tell me on the phone? Were you at the police station all day?”
“Yes. There’s something weird going on. From what I can gather, things are starting to point to me. They didn’t tell me what, but I swear they asked me every question in the book.”
Frustration rose until I had to say something. “Dietrich came over while you were gone.”
“Really? That’s strange.”
“He was looking for you. But the thing is, he said you’d lied about that night. He said you were drunk.”
I waited for some kind of rebuttal, but none came. Finally, Stone said, “Yeah. I think I was.”
“You think? Seriously, you don’t remember?”
“I’d really like to talk to you face-to-face. This is going to sound really bad on the phone.”
Predictably, I felt an urge to give in to him. I cut that down quickly.
“No, I can’t do that.” I was tired of making allowances. “I don’t know if I can trust you now.”
“Okay,” he said. “What if Red came along?”
“What, is Red at your beck and call now? You sound like a mob boss. Listen, I’m telling you I need some space, so you’re going to have to back off.”
The harshness of my words made me feel like I was channeling Katrina. But I felt cornered and unsafe.
Stone finally seemed to understand. “I know you’re feeling betrayed. I lied about being drunk because I couldn’t admit I didn’t know what happened that night.” His voice dropped. “I also couldn’t admit what you might’ve already figured out—that I was turning into a drunk like my dad.”
Now I regretted not letting him come over, so I could’ve watched his face as he confessed this to me. Was he being truthful, or just playing on my emotions?
“Dietrich said as much,” I said noncommittally.
“I figured he’d tell on me sooner or later. For some reason, he went along with my story at first.”
“He probably thought you were innocent then.”
His voice deflated. “And now? Even my friends are turning a
gainst me?”
Did Stone even have any friends left? I changed the subject. “Why did they keep you so long at the station? Did they have something on you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to get a lawyer, I guess. Dad knows a good one.”
I thought of my run-in with Stone the fourth and his flannel pajamas. “You’re taking advice from your dad now?”
“Dad might be going through a rough patch, but he’ll pull out of it.”
I didn’t relent. “Just like you will?”
Stone gave a short laugh. “Whoa, Belinda. Like I said before, you’re savage. Here’s the deal: when I realized I couldn’t remember anything about the night Margo was killed, I decided to quit drinking. Cold turkey.”
I thought of Stone’s obvious inebriation the day we went to Frannie’s. Did he think I hadn’t noticed? “And have you stuck with it?”
“I’ve had a lapse or two, but the bottom line is that I’m sick of not driving. I’m sick of forgetting things. It’s like I can’t give all of myself to anything. I’m only half there.”
Dude. This was some heavy stuff, the kind of deep reflections Katrina would try to get her clients to share. Only I had no training as to how to help Stone work through things.
“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping he heard the truth in my tone.
“I just want you to know that no matter what they think they have on me, I didn’t hurt Margo. I know I would’ve remembered that. I didn’t have any reason to kill her. Do I seem like a psychopath?”
I had no clue what psychos seemed like, but Stone’s miserably broken state didn’t seem to fit the mold. And I was pretty sure if he’d fathered Margo’s baby, being of such a gentlemanly nature, he would’ve stepped up to the plate instead of trying to strangle her.
“No, I don’t think you do. Call me when they tell you anything. I’m going to be hanging around my house.”
“That’s wise,” he said.
“Alone,” I emphasized.
“Gotcha. I’ll stay away, I promise. I guess you ruled Dietrich out when you talked with him?”
I sighed, unsure. “I think so.”
“Who’s left? Father Jesse?”
“I guess so, but what can we do about him? He’s not talking to us.”
Stone grunted. “Maybe I could work on him tomorrow. I went easy on him during our last visit, but it’s time for the games to end. Margo was covering for someone, and if he knows who it is, he has a duty to tell the cops.”
I figured if Stone brought the full force of his family name to bear, the reluctant priest might pay attention. The Carrington family had probably been around long enough to fund half the buildings in the town, including the Episcopal church.
I capitulated. “Okay, Father Jesse is all yours. He didn’t like me anyway.”
Stone laughed. “I can’t imagine why not. Oh wait, maybe because you came at him with both barrels blazing.”
I laughed in spite of myself. I really missed hanging out with Stone. He never shot down my ideas and he was more than ready to step out on a limb with me.
“Call me tomorrow,” I said.
“You got it, Blondie.”
I hung up and couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. The clock read twelve forty-three, way too late to be up chatting, but things felt more settled in my mind. My instincts flew in the face of Mrs. Lewis’s story, Frannie’s phone call, and Dietrich’s misgivings about Stone. Not to mention whatever evidence Detective Watson thought he had.
It didn’t matter. I finally went to sleep, resting easier now I knew Stone was still next door. Because I was almost totally convinced he wasn’t the killer.
* * * *
Katrina called in the morning as I was loading my coffeemaker. As she talked, I leaned against the sink, staring out at the flowerbed I hadn’t visited since before Frannie’s death. It seemed I should arrange a pile of decorative rocks, or maybe plant some perennials, to memorialize where the women’s bodies had been.
“Sis? Did you hear me? I asked how the car’s doing for you.”
“Fine, fine. I mean, I haven’t driven it much.”
“Why not?”
She was going to drag it out of me one way or another. I went ahead and pulled the pin on my verbal grenade and tossed it out in the open. “There’s been another murder. The police detective suggested I stay home a little while.”
“You’re kidding! And why are you supposed to lie low? Is he making an arrest?”
“I hope so.” Only I hoped it wasn’t Stone.
“You’d better tell me what’s going on, or I’m driving down today.”
I had no doubt my sister would do just that. And if Mom knew, she’d do the same. I tried to ease Katrina’s misgivings by sharing what Dietrich and Stone had said, but it only made her more apprehensive.
“Sounds like Stone’s moved to the front of the pack as lead suspect,” Katrina said. “Under no circumstances should you open your door to him.”
“I’m not utterly dense. I don’t plan to.”
After several more warnings, Katrina had to get back to work. When I hung up, I caught movement outside and peered out my back window. Jacques was clearing my back patio with a leaf blower. He wore ear protection, or I would’ve shouted a hello to him. I wanted to thank him for checking in on my carriage house...and maybe probe for details about how he found Frannie.
A surge of stir-craziness hit me and I decided to get out into the mild weather. I was tired of being cooped up alone. I changed to jeans and a hoodie, but by the time I went out, Jacques was nowhere to be found.
I ambled around in front of my house, unable to relax at the backyard bistro table I had previously enjoyed. Driven by the certainty that I shouldn’t be wasting my time when Stone had probably gone to question Father Jesse, I made a brief jaunt into my kitchen and grabbed a jar of honey. I’d take it over to the manor house, spy around, and if someone ran into me, I’d offer the honey as an early Christmas gift.
Like most of my plans, it was flawed, but I’d make it work.
Chapter 24
I thought I’d follow my stealthy bush-lurking route from last time, but when I neared the house, that idea crashed and burned. Melly stepped into her driveway and immediately caught sight of me. She leaned into the car and said something to Red, then made her way to me.
It seemed to take a while, thanks to her petite legs and high heels. I continued walking toward her and met her in the grass.
She was beautifully turned out today, wearing a ruby necklace and numerous large-gemstone rings. She had an oversized silk scarf draped around her arms. She smelled soft, like candy and jasmine. Her dark hair was pulled back in a twisted chignon.
In fact, she looked like the business end of the Carrington business, even though she wasn’t even involved in it.
“Is everything okay at the house?” she asked breathily. “Mrs. Lewis said everything was in order, but it has to be so trying for you right now. The police assure me they’re doing all they can to deal with this unpleasantness.”
Yes, two murders would qualify as some serious “unpleasantness.”
I extended the honey jar, the pale golden alfalfa honey catching the light. “I’m doing fine. As a matter of fact, I was just bringing this early Christmas gift over. It’s honey from my parents’ area.”
She took it. “Delightful. I was actually just heading out. Would you mind running it into the kitchen for me? They’ll know where to store it.”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Please don’t worry on my account.” It was her son she needed to worry about, but I didn’t point that out.
She gave my hand a squeeze and we walked back to the car together. Red politely tipped his hat as I approached. I wondered where Melly was off to, but it was probably some high-class Greenwich society meeting.
Regardless, I had
my excuse to go into the manor house, so I went inside and headed to the kitchen. Lani emerged from the pantry, carrying a large carton of tomatoes.
“Hello, Miss Blake,” she said.
I hadn’t realized she knew my name. “Hello. Lani, is it?”
We made small talk, then I tried to work around to the topic of what happened on Thanksgiving. “I was up at my parents’ house on the day Frannie died,” I said. “I was so sorry to hear about it. That must’ve been horrible.”
Lani held a fluttery hand up to her chest. “Oh, Miss Blake, it was. A tragedy. And she loved my pumpkin trifle so much.”
Sadly, the ardent love for a pumpkin trifle had no power to stop a cold-blooded murderer.
“So Jacques found her soon after she left?” I asked.
“Not even an hour later,” she lamented, her coffee brown eyes filling with tears.
“I’m surprised Jacques worked on Thanksgiving,” I said. “Wasn’t he with his family that day?”
Lani considered. “I believe he has a son, but I think he’s grown and out of the house. As I recall, Jacques dropped by to shut down the fountain on Thanksgiving. It was after that first snow, and Mrs. Carrington worried the concrete would freeze.”
“And he checked on my carriage house,” I added. “Which must’ve been when he found Frannie.” I sighed, feeling like I was going in circles. I tried a different approach. “After Frannie left, did you see any of the Carringtons heading outside?”
Lani set a couple of heads of garlic on a chopping board and began to expertly crush the cloves. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told the police—I didn’t pay much attention because I was clearing the plates. But the last I saw of them, Mrs. Melly was talking to Jacques in the entryway, Mr. Stone the fourth was heading upstairs, and Mr. Stone the fifth came in to help me in the kitchen.” She smiled. “That boy is a sweetheart. He always tries to help me do my job.”
Somehow I wasn’t surprised to hear Lani’s glowing assessment of Stone the fifth’s humility. A large part of what drew me to him was his lack of pretense about his station and family wealth.
Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass Page 14
