Since Melly had been talking with Jacques, I didn’t think she would’ve had the chance to attack Frannie. Besides, why would she? But Stone the elder was a different story. Sure, he’d looked like he was going upstairs, but there were plenty of ways he could’ve redirected his course and trailed Frannie outside.
I thanked Lani for her time and let her get back to her food preparation. Judging by the ingredients she had laid out on the granite countertop, it looked like a delicious Italian meal was on the agenda for tonight. My stomach growled and I wished I’d eaten more than half an English muffin.
I headed into the dining room, slowing to gape at its ornate decor. The long, polished table looked straight of Downton Abbey. Plush red roses adorned the cherry wood table, and paintings that were likely real, not reproductions, lined the walls. Predictably, I didn’t see any of Dietrich’s work. What would it be like to eat a meal in this room? I thought I would probably feel like royalty.
I wished I could poke around the house, maybe check out the study or the billiards room, but that would definitely be too risky. Casting about for something to examine next, I determined I’d have to go back outside. Maybe I could somehow retrace Frannie’s steps when she left the house.
Had Frannie driven herself over that day? Unlike Stone, she didn’t have to rely on a driver all the time. If she’d driven, she had probably parked in the side gravel lot. The police would’ve checked her car and returned it to her family by now, but maybe they’d missed something.
I crunched around to the side of the house. Only a handful of cars were parked there, and they were all older models, so I guessed this was where the hired help and visitors parked. I walked between the cars, eyes fixed to the ground in case Frannie had dropped something or left a clue.
Suddenly, a small cavalcade of police cars hurtled up the driveway. The lead car stopped in front of the manor house door and someone jumped out. I immediately recognized him as Detective Watson.
Something must’ve turned up. Maybe the detective’s evidence, whatever it was, had finally pointed to someone definitively.
But who?
I stood frozen, realization sinking in that they might be here to pick up Stone the fifth. And this time, I doubted they’d allow him to walk out of the station.
A dull thud sounded in one of the cars nearby. What on earth?
I glanced around. I was probably hearing things because I was so on edge. My attention returned to the police cars out front.
But there was another light pounding noise, and this time, I was sure it was coming from a car. I turned and began speed walking between them, but there was no one in sight.
Then I heard a metallic clunk, like someone had kicked something.
The trunk. Someone was in a trunk.
Chapter 25
I hurried from car to car, banging on every trunk. “Who’s there? Are you in here?”
When I pounded on the trunk of a small silver car, a weak thump sounded in return. I raced to the front door to try to get to the trunk release lever, but the door was locked.
“Hang on!” I shouted, taking off for the cops.
I hurriedly explained the situation to the nearest officer, and he grabbed a slim metal tool and followed me. After jimmying the car door, he pulled the trunk release. I stood by the trunk as it opened, and it took me a moment to recognize the person inside.
It was Mrs. Lewis, but her face had been badly beaten. Duct tape covered her mouth, so I tried to pull it off as gently as possible. Her eyes were hazy, and I suspected she was about to lapse into unconsciousness. The police officer barked some kind of code into his radio, then rushed to check her pulse.
“Help is on the way,” I murmured, hoping she understood.
“I can’t...too strong,” she slurred.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, hoping against hope this would be the case. But Mrs. Lewis was no spring chicken, and it looked like someone had beaten her with the intent to kill. I also noticed red welts around her neck, like I’d seen on Margo. Someone had tried to strangle her.
She tried to say something else as the officer spoke into his radio again. Her words were garbled and hoarse, so I leaned in closer. “Wasn’t...working,” she croaked.
Well, that much was obvious—whatever she’d done to fend off her attacker hadn’t worked.
I held her hands in mine until the ambulance appeared. When the paramedics gingerly lifted Mrs. Lewis’s body from the trunk, she looked like a mere wisp of a woman. Nothing like the commanding house secretary I’d met the first day I came to the Carrington estate.
Had I just stumbled across a near-murder scene? Did the killer run away as I approached the parking lot, before he had time to finish the job?
I followed the ambulance as it wheeled out into the driveway. As I rounded the corner of the house, I tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening with the police cars.
The front door of the manor house opened, and Detective Watson walked Stone the fifth out. It looked like the detective had thrown a friendly arm around Stone. I wondered what they were talking about. Maybe Stone had stumbled onto some new evidence.
But when Stone turned in front of the police cruiser door, I saw that the detective had been guiding Stone by the elbow.
Stone’s hands were cuffed behind him.
He was under arrest.
* * * *
I didn’t even stop to think. I ran to the police car, then banged on the closed rear window. Stone was mouthing something, but with all the officers talking around me, I couldn’t make it out. Detective Watson threw his door open and walked over to me, like I was Public Enemy Number One.
“What’s got you in such a dither?” he asked, his Southern twang strong. “I told you to stay away from Stone the fifth, so this can’t come as a surprise to you.”
“I know, but are you sure this is the right thing to do? We just found the house secretary in the side parking lot, nearly beaten to death! Her attacker could have been there when I walked over, and that was right about the time you came—”
The detective’s voice grew stern. “Belinda, I want you to give a full statement to Officer Lindstrom.” He gestured to a tall blond man who was observing our conversation. “But right now, I’m taking Stone in. We have evidence he was there around the time of Frannie’s death.”
“Evidence that makes you one hundred percent certain he was with her when she died?”
Detective Watson leaned closer. “I can’t tell if you’re hoping to exonerate this man, or if you’re just anxious to make certain we’re taking the right man in. Rest assured, we are. Now, obviously, I can’t share what our evidence is. All I can say is that you’ll be safe now—I’m sure of it.”
I glanced into the back window, horrified. Stone stared straight ahead, as if in a trance.
Like a wet wool blanket, doubts threatened to suffocate me. I’d suspected Stone, then I’d talked myself out of the notion. He’d seemed so convincing the last time he called, when he’d said he would talk with Father Jesse today.
I waited until Detective Watson turned to speak to one of his officers, then I gave a covert tap on the police car window. Stone blinked, turning my way. “Father Jesse?” I asked.
Stone gave a short nod. He said two words, so I dipped down, pressing my ear against the closed window. Stone repeated the words again—first once, then twice. Although the sound was muffled, I was fairly sure he’d said, “Your phone.”
Detective Watson began to turn, so I straightened and gave him a bored look. The detective abruptly dusted his hands together, like he was washing them of this entire business. “I’ll call you later, Belinda. Officer Lindstrom?”
The tall man moved my way and I threw a final glance at Stone. His despondency seemed palpable, even through the closed window.
Gathering my thoughts, I was somehow coher
ent as I walked Officer Lindstrom through the events in the parking lot. By the time he had my statement, I was feeling chilled and ready for a hot cup of anything. The moment the officer gave me leave, I ran back to my carriage house, not caring how anxious I looked.
Once safely inside, I locked the door, then threw myself directly onto the couch. Sobs overtook me, and I gave in to them. Memories swirled to the surface, reminding me of failed love interests through the years. There’d been Lee, my high school crush who’d hardly known I was alive, at least until my “friend” Tammy had blabbed that I was the secret admirer who’d sent him a hand-crafted Valentine’s card. After that, he’d actively started to avoid me. In college, there was my boyfriend Colin, with his delightful British accent and his utter disdain for how American I was. Needless to say, that didn’t last. I’d all but sworn off love until I fell hard for Micah, who’d longingly shared how perfect I was for him...right before he decided to leave the Peace Corps and start medical school.
Love seemed to have it in for me, or maybe I just really knew how to pick ’em. Either way, this was exactly where I always ended up. In tears. Alone. Again.
“Oh, Rasputin,” I wailed. “Every time I think I’ve found a good man, it turns into a miserable disaster. What is wrong with me?”
The snake didn’t have an answer, and neither did I.
* * * *
After I’d fixed a mug of hot chocolate and eaten a few crackers to settle my stomach, I pulled out my phone to see what Stone had been talking about. It must have been on vibrate all morning, because I found a message he’d left around eleven.
“I went to see Father Jesse,” his message began. He sounded relaxed and confident. “Somehow I managed to talk him into a chat. He said Margo had never mentioned a name, but she’d voluntarily asked for counseling about a relationship she was in. He got the feeling she felt threatened somehow, but she never elaborated on it. He said he’d recently talked to the police and told them the same thing.” He paused. “Okay. That’s about it. Call me and we’ll talk.”
I replayed the message, trying to discern any hidden meanings behind what Father Jesse had said. There seemed to be none, except for the fact that he’d actually confided in Stone, which seemed to indicate that he didn’t think Stone was Margo’s dangerous love interest.
I didn’t either.
Despite the overwhelming evidence that Stone the fifth was likely the murderer, it just didn’t add up. Stone may have liked Margo in the past, but from everything he and everyone else said, it seemed they were nothing more than casual friends now. Not exactly the type of relationship Margo would’ve feared extricating herself from.
I needed some outside perspective on Stone’s habits. Val might know something, but judging from how surprised Stone was that Val was interested in Margo, I figured they didn’t tell each other everything.
Dietrich was out too, because he’d already shared all he knew about Stone. Maybe he could give me Sophie and Jet’s number, though. I didn’t hold much hope that those two had any information, given how everyone said they were so wrapped up in each other, they were oblivious to anything else.
I absently glanced out the window, experiencing a small thrill when my gaze fell on my blue Volvo. I finally owned a car. It seemed surreal, after all these years without one. I’d gotten through college borrowing my parents’ old beater cars. Then I’d traveled with the Peace Corps and gotten used to bumming rides. I hadn’t really minded.
Unlike Stone, who was used to driving his own Lamborghini around.
That was it. I knew who I needed to talk to, the one person who could give me the perspective I needed. Not a friend, but someone who knew just about every move Stone made.
Red.
Chapter 26
I took a deep breath and called Red. I wasn’t sure what information I was looking for, but I had a feeling I’d know it when Red shared it.
He picked up the first ring. “Miss Blake?”
I could hear men talking in the background and I wondered where he was. He’d driven Melly somewhere. Was he killing time with the other chauffeurs? Taking a quick drink at some kind of watering hole?
I decided to tackle the most pressing issues first. “Red, the police were just here. They arrested Stone and took him to the station. And Mrs. Lewis was attacked. She’s at the hospital now. She was in very rough shape.”
Red didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll bring Mrs. Carrington home now. Thank you for letting me know.”
I plunged on. “Also, could we talk when you get back? I could meet you at Dunkin’ Donuts.”
I was proud of myself for thinking of meeting in a public place. Even Katrina would be impressed that I hadn’t thrown caution completely to the wind. While I was nearly one hundred percent certain Red couldn’t be the murderer—he was out driving around when Mrs. Lewis was attacked, and he probably wasn’t even around on the days Frannie and Margo were killed—I was playing it safe.
“Of course, Miss Blake. I’ll call you when I arrive.”
I liked the way Red took me seriously. He didn’t ask why I wanted to meet at Dunkin’ Donuts and he didn’t question the nature of our meeting. He just assumed I had a good reason.
Feeling hopeful as I hung up, I checked the temperature in Rasputin’s cage and gave him new water. It was hard to believe we’d be trekking back to Manhattan in the morning. I wanted to head in early so I could tidy up at Reginald’s a bit before he returned. It would also give Rasputin a chance to acclimate to his larger cage again.
I fixed an easy lunch. The sunlight pouring into the windows seemed to flood me with fresh strength. Although I was tempted to sit at the bistro table, I settled for scooting my kitchen chair into a pool of light as I ate.
Looking out at the flowerbeds, I guessed at their dimensions. Then I scrolled through flower bulb websites, adding pink daffodils, red and white tulips, and a couple of peonies to my virtual shopping cart. It was too late this year to plant bulbs, but I could prepare for next fall. I’d make every attempt to take away the stigma of the deathly flowerbed.
The sunlight had made me drowsy, so I snuggled under a blanket on the couch. I picked up a book to kill time until Red called back. I couldn’t stop thinking about how Stone had sat in this very room and opened up to me about his life. I had reveled in our similarities, hoping we could become closer.
I wasn’t ready to give up on Stone yet.
* * * *
Red called me around two. It had taken longer to return home since Melly had asked him to stop at the police station first. I didn’t probe, but he did say that when she came out of the station, she’d been more furious than he’d ever seen her.
Dunkin’ Donuts was surprisingly busy. I ordered a medium coffee with cream and sugar, then caved and bought a cream-filled chocolate donut. Red got a black coffee and a bear claw that was the size of four donuts put together.
As usual, Red was easy to talk to. We chatted about the weather, then I told him I was following up on some things for Stone, which was partly true.
“Did Stone visit Margo’s house frequently over the past few months?” I asked.
He blew on the hot coffee. “You talking about Stone the fifth?”
“Of course. He’s the one who was just arrested.”
Red shifted in his seat, and a couple of people darted glances our way. I had a feeling he could be quite intimidating, should he so desire. “Stone the fifth never went to Margo’s house.”
He fell silent, and I scrambled to fill in the blanks. “Wait. So did Stone the fourth go to her house?”
“No.”
He took a huge bite of bear claw and munched.
I put two and two together. “But Stone the fourth met Margo somewhere else.”
Red grinned and gave a slight incline of his head.
I took a wild stab. “Stone the fourth and Margo were
having an affair.”
Red gulped his coffee. “I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
I leaned forward. “And you never mentioned this to the police?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The one who controlled the purse strings was the one who controlled Red. He probably made a good income working for the Carringtons, and if he’d squealed on Stone the fourth, his job would’ve been forfeit.
My mind raced. Stone the fourth made sense. He was volatile and maybe even dangerous due to his alcoholism, Margo would feel the need to hide their relationship, and he did seem to have an eye for younger ladies, given his bawdiness that day in the conservatory.
And when Mrs. Lewis said she’d seen Stone chasing Margo out the door, what if she’d meant Stone the fourth? It was entirely possible I’d misread that conversation.
I nibbled a piece of my donut, the white cream oozing onto my tongue. Washing it down with the strong coffee, I finally formulated another question.
“I wonder if Melly knows?”
Red shrugged as if unwilling to say more.
I took time wording my next thought. “Stone the fifth was all too aware of his father’s alcoholism. I’m betting if he knew anything about this affair, he would’ve done all he could to stop it.”
“Sounds like you know Mr. Stone quite well,” Red said, polishing off the last cinnamon-iced bite of the bear claw.
It seemed Red agreed that Stone the younger hadn’t known of his father’s dalliance with Margo.
So apparently, Red and I were on the same page. We both didn’t really believe the younger Stone could’ve strangled two girls and attacked Mrs. Lewis.
Red drained the last of his coffee as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. Apologetically, I began to overexplain. “I’m sorry you had to come over here. I just couldn’t meet you at my house. I mean—”
He interrupted. “That was smart. You’re a young girl, living alone. There’ve been two strangulations right next to your place. It’s wise to exercise caution—with everyone in the Carrington household.” He stretched his legs to their full length, and as his pants rode up, I could’ve sworn I saw a holster strapped around his ankle. Gun? Knife?
Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass Page 15