by K. M. Waller
I could feel Craig’s hard stare on my profile but I didn’t want to look to him for answers. “Deal.”
11
Mr. Spudson didn’t offer me an actual handshake. Craig escorted me out of the study and into the main foyer. We paused in front of the oversized painting again.
“What have I done?” I asked the first Mrs. Spudson’s portrait. Not that she’d have any words of wisdom to give.
Craig lifted his cowboy hat from the decorative table and placed it on his head. “I don’t believe Mr. Spudson knows what to do with someone he can’t buy off.”
“Money doesn’t solve all problems. It usually creates more.” I closed my eyes and rubbed the middle of my forehead. If I wasn’t careful, I’d rub the skin right off. “I don’t know how to investigate.”
“Seems like you have the right questions. Now you need to use them and do the exact opposite of what you’ve been doing.”
I sank down into an ornate chair that looked like it belonged into a museum. “Which is what?”
“You’ve assumed everyone is innocent. Turn that around and assume everyone is guilty. See what shakes loose.”
“You could do the same.” I looked up at him. “As head of Picante security, you’re more qualified.”
He kneeled down in front of me, balancing his body weight on the soles of his cowboy boots. “The contestants trust you. You’re honest and you don’t have a horse in the race. I’ve been the enemy from the front gate. But, I can help you. Tell me what you need.”
If this were a numbered list, I’d start at the beginning. “First, I need Marlin. Second, find Karen. I need to see inside the judges’ tent from her point of view. Third, I need Gérard the butler or waiter or whatever he does inside one of these rooms where I can ask him some questions.”
“Fourth?”
I appreciated that Craig didn’t scoff at my need for a numbered plan. “That’s enough to start with, I guess.”
He unclipped his two-way radio and handed it over. “You and Ms. Marlin have free reign of the grounds. I’ll let the other guards know. You can call me from this radio. I’ll inform Mr. Spudson, rouse Karen from her room, and set up an interview area for Gérard.”
Craig stood and then offered me his hand. My hands shook with adrenaline and anxiety, and I was grateful to have him steady me while I stood.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, and I’m sorry you’re caught up in this eccentric mess.” He squeezed my fingers. “If I’d been able to run you to the Shreveport airport, I’d have asked you to dinner before putting you on a plane.”
I held my smile and suppressed the excitement of the almost dinner date. At least we’d been on the same page about one thing. “If you and your mega-billionaire boss hadn’t kidnapped me and my friend, I might have said yes.”
Some things weren’t meant to be.
He let go and as he walked away, the heels of his boots clip-clopped against the hardwood floors.
I watched him walk away for a few more seconds, then I dashed out the way I’d come in. I burst through the door and went to the kitchen table.
Marlin pulled her hands out of the sink and wiped the suds on her pants. “What’s happening now, lil’momma?”
“Gather everyone into the living room.” I grabbed the pen and notebook and stood behind the sofa where Deidre and Terry already sat.
Marlin knocked on two of the bedroom doors and relayed my command. Big Joe stumbled out and sat in the oversized chair adjacent to the sofa—minus his cargo shorts. I averted my eyes, but I’d already seen his boxer shorts with little dancing pigs.
I heard Ricky Lynn say “no” and slam the door in Marlin’s face.
“It’s fine,” I called out. “We don’t really need them.”
“Need them for what?” Big Joe rubbed his bare knees. “What’s going on?”
“Marlin and I are going to put some facts together for Mr. Spudson.”
“Now you’re on board?” Deidre asked. “Did he offer you even more money?”
“He offered to get us out of here faster and that’s better than money.” Not a lie, just an omission. I handed Marlin the notepad and pen. “I need y’all to start with the first thing that happened after you arrived this morning and keep going from there all the way until you heard Karen screaming. All the events of your day, in order.”
“That would be a book.” Big Joe flexed his hand. “And my arthritis is acting up.”
“Why don’t you need the other two?” Terry asked.
“If they don’t want to prove their innocence by telling their side of things, it’ll make them appear guilty. We only need one guilty person to appease Mr. Spudson.” I’d said it loud enough I was sure Ricky Lynn would hear it through the walls.
Less than ten seconds later, Ricky Lynn bustled out of her room with the pirate, er, Rory in tow. “I won’t go down for something I didn’t do.”
I addressed Big Joe’s concern. “You don’t need to write a book. Just tell what you saw in order. One, you arrived and set up. Two, you started your grill and popped open a beer. Stuff like that.”
He wiped his nose and nodded. “Fine. There’s more paper and pen in my room. I’ll grab it so we can get this done faster.”
I smiled. “That’s the spirit.”
Marlin leaned in and gave my cheek a pinch. “How exciting to see you take charge. I’m proud, girlie.”
If take charge meant relying on my survival instincts, then sure I’d allow her to think that. “You can be proud later. We have to go to the judges’ tent and look around for clues. Dig around for another pen and some paper.”
She clapped her hands. “Real clues. Like on my murder drama shows.” I opened my mouth to correct her, but she held up a hand. “Don’t suck the fun out of everything, hon.”
The rest of the living room had quieted down with the contestants scribbling diligently on their notepads. I bit the edge of my lip. Craig had wanted me to change my perceptions of the group, but I still didn’t think any of them had intentionally killed Charles. Unless one of them was stone cold and completely unfeeling. My plan was to do the exact opposite of what Mr. Spudson wanted. Instead of proving that one of them did it. I set out to prove that none of them did. He wouldn’t be able to dispute the facts if they were presented to him logically.
Pietro stepped through the front door. “Mr. Craig and Ms. Karen are waiting for you at the tent. I’m to stay with the group.”
“Would you like spaghetti?” Marlin pointed to the kitchen. “We have leftovers.”
Ricky Lynn scoffed. “Only my cousin would offer supper to the men with guns.”
“It’s good manners,” Marlin shot back. “They gotta eat too.”
I grabbed Marlin by the sleeve. “Let’s go. The faster we move through all of this, the sooner we get out of here.”
Austin wiggled out of his spot by the kitchen rug and whimpered. I clipped on his leash and we followed Marlin out the door. I allowed him a few potty stops on the way to the judges’ tent. Someone had set several outdoor lights around the tent areas and little bugs danced around the bright bulbs.
Karen stood in front of the tent. She’d changed from the polka dot dress into a pair of faded jeans and an orange Spudson’s BBQ t-shirt. She chewed on the edge of her nail until she caught sight of us.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” she said.
“It’ll be quick.” I turned to Marlin and held out the leash. “Can you tie up Austin and then take notes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She slipped the leash through the metal hook anchoring a line holding the tent.
With a deep breath, I held open the flap of the tent and walked inside. Marlin and Karen followed. Craig waited for us near a round table covered with a white tablecloth. Three white folding chairs were arranged around it. In the middle sat judging worksheets ready to be tallied. I walked around the perimeter of the tent, Marlin close on my heels, while Karen hovered behind a chair. Nothing suggested a m
an had died in there hours earlier.
The testing facility technician had removed the judging platters and any remaining food.
“Walk me through it, Karen,” I started. “From the minute you got here until Charles… choked.”
“I stayed at the big house overnight. Had dinner with Mr. Spudson. This morning, Mrs. Spudson part-two and I drank mimosas on the veranda until the majority of the contestants arrived. Then I moved down to the tent.”
“Was Charles already in here?”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “No, he came in later with Mr. Spudson.”
“What did you do while you waited for the brisket tasting?”
“Mostly, we played on our phones. Charles wasn’t too chatty. Mr. Spudson came in and out to check on us. Gérard kept us supplied with drinks.”
Marlin wrote furiously on the notepad, capturing every detail.
All day inside the tent. I shuddered at being cooped inside a small area for that long. “What happened when you had to go to the bathroom?”
“A guard escorted us to the main house.”
“Really?”
“That’s to make sure the contestants don’t corner us if they see us leave the tent. We received two bribe notes this year.”
“Bribe notes?” Marlin looked up from her notes.
“Yeah, it’s the norm when the stakes are so high. This is the first time a team offered cash on site in addition to a split of the winnings.”
Ricky Lynn and the money bag.
She shrugged. “Mr. Spudson pays us well enough and we sign a lot of legal paperwork that means he could sue us into the ground if we took a bribe. But that doesn’t stop it from happening.”
“How are the notes delivered?”
“They slip them to Gérard and he brings them back. We all get a big laugh out of it.”
“And it’s up to Gérard to tell them your answer?”
“I guess. I never really asked what he says to them.”
“Okay, keep walking us through the afternoon.”
“At six, Gérard and the other waiter collected the brisket and brought it in here. They placed the meat on platters labeled A, B, C & D so we don’t know which contestant it came from.”
“And you tasted your platter and didn’t notice anything off about the briskets.”
“That’s right. Charles ate off of every platter in sight. Not long after, he started choking on a piece of meat.”
“He ate Mr. Spudson’s platter.” I bit my bottom lip and tapped the back of a chair. “All the meat came from the same trays the waiters brought in? You’re sure you tasted every contestant’s brisket sample?”
“Yes. Gérard organized the trays and separated all the meat onto our official lettered tasting platters.” She sniffled and put her fist against her nose. “I honestly don’t know how I was spared the same fate.”
I turned to Craig who’d been listening intently by the tent door. “There’s no way to convince the medical examiner he didn’t just choke on a piece of brisket?”
“Doc is with him now, reconfirming his initial assessment. He said the choking did him in faster with restricting his airway, but the convulsions and closing of his throat were because of a poison. The two things worked together. Most likely one wouldn’t have happened without the other.”
“If he hadn’t choked, he might have survived another day or two with the poison in his body?” Had the killer expected Charles to die at a later time? What would the benefit of that be?
Karen shivered and backed away from the table. “I’d really like to leave now.”
“We’ll walk with you back up to the manor.” I twirled my hair around my finger. What if the poison had worked faster on Charles because he’d eaten more?
Marlin and Karen walked out ahead of us. I placed a hand on Craig’s forearm. “I think you need to have Doc test Karen’s blood. I don’t think she should rule out that she could have ingested some poison. I didn’t want to say so in front of her and upset her more than what she already is.”
“Good idea. I’ll escort you ladies and make the call.”
Craig and I joined them outside. I unhooked Austin’s leash from the tent and let him trail behind us. He hopped on a couple of vole holes.
Marlin jumped and shrieked when one ran out of a hole and across the tips of her shoes. “You’d think with all his money Mr. Spudson could afford to run off this vermin.”
Craig stomped on a hole with his boot heel. “There’s pesticide to put out, but the boss didn’t want to coat the ground with it until the cook-off was over.”
“You mean like poison?” I reached down and picked up Austin, giving him a little nuzzle near his neck. “Who on the property has access to that?”
He nodded toward the house. “Everyone who works here.”
“Good.” I mimicked a writing gesture to Marlin. “Write that down.”
“How is that good?” Karen asked.
“It widens our suspect pool to more than just the contestants.” And with the more people who could be responsible, the more likely Mr. Spudson would stop with his in-house investigation and bring in the real deal.
12
We stepped in through the rear entrance and I gave Marlin a few moments to absorb the beauty of the interior design.
“Magnificent,” she said with a breathy sigh.
Karen’s familiarity with the mansion showed since she didn’t pause or marvel at anything before her. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could walk through the front, back, or side doors and not be affected each time.
I set Austin down and he waddled to the nearest rug and flopped down.
Craig led Marlin and me down a corridor to the left wing of the mansion. Halfway down the hall he turned back, “These are the staff quarters.”
The upkeep of a house this large would take a Downton Abbey-sized amount of workers. “How many of the staff live here?”
“Gérard and I are the only ones who have a room in the big house. The rest of the staff live in Picante with their families. They hang out here in the off-time, though.”
The crack of a pool balls smacking into one another greeted us at the door of a common room. Gérard bent over the edge of the pool table and lined up his next shot. He saw us and missed the white ball, cursing in French.
Craig nodded and left us to our task.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to mess up your shot.” I gestured to the solid oak pool table that probably cost over three months of my mortgage payments.
“It’s nothing.” He placed the cue in the rack. Then stood facing us with his legs shoulder width apart and hands tucked behind his back, something my husband had once called a modified parade rest. “Monsieur Craig said you wish to speak to me about the death earlier today. I’m not sure how I can be of help.”
Marlin wrote Gérard’s words verbatim on the pad, drawing a raised eyebrow from him. I placed my hand on top of hers to stop her.
“I told Mr. Spudson I’d organize the series of events from everyone who had access to the judges’ tent.”
“That is many people,” he said. “Before the contestants arrived, Monsieur Craig’s men set up the tent and table inside.”
“Who brought in the platters and judging forms?”
“The kitchen staff, I presume.”
“Where were you during the initial setup?”
Marlin clicked her tongue at me and wrote down Gérard’s answers. “You are asking some fantastic questions, hon. You are in the groove.”
Gérard’s body tensed. “Why did the monsieur task you with collecting this information?”
“Because I’m the most motivated to go home,” I answered as honestly as I could. “And your cooperation will get me there faster. I promise.”
“Not to mention, she’s super smart,” Marlin bragged. “Chances are Beanie’s figured this entire mystery out already and is waiting for the big reveal.”
“All I want are the events of the day in order from your point of
view,” I countered. “Then you can get back to your pool game.”
His gaze flickered between us. “I served mimosas on the veranda to the madam and Karen while the others set up. After they moved down to the main tents, I followed. I served drinks to everyone, as you well know, and then served the contestant’s entries to the judges.”
“The end,” Marlin said and tapped the pad with her pen.
“What about the bribes?” I asked.
He let go of his rigid stance and leaned back against the pool table. “You know about those?”
Marlin scoffed. “Like I said, Beanie’s got this all worked out.”
“Karen told us you took the two bribe notes to the judges. Who were they from?”
He took his time as if he had to come up with something other than the truth. His hesitation bothered me. It was possible he also took money to take the bribe notes. I didn’t care about that—just getting the facts on the paper.
“The two couples.”
Marlin huffed. “Not surprised about Ricky Lynn. Once a cheat always a cheat.”
I turned to her. “I am surprised about Deidre and Terry though. But a million dollars is a lot of temptation.”
Gérard cleared his throat. “Are we finished?”
“Were either of them angry when the judges turned down their offers?” Craig had told me to look at the contestants as if all of them could be guilty. I twirled my hair around my finger. Everyone carried some little secret.
“Whoo hoo. Gérard, honey. I need my nightcap.” Mrs. Spudson stumbled into the room and braced herself against the wall. She regarded all of us with glassy eyes. “Are y’all enjoying my hospi… hispa… hospitality?”
“Prayers on a Sunday, that woman is still blasted,” Marlin whispered louder than a whisper should be uttered.
“I should see to the madam.” Gérard rushed past us and clamped a hand around her waist.
She leaned into him and giggled.
Marlin elbowed me and wiggled her eyebrows. “There’s something to that. I wonder if the monsieur is aware.” This time she kept her voice low enough only I could hear.
