By Familiar Means

by Delia James

  Alistair glowered at me and vanished.

  I sighed. “Yes, right, fine. Sorry.”

  I really was. But I was also scared. I needed to be out of here. I needed to know what was happening with Kelly and with Gretchen. And Jake and Miranda. I needed not to get caught by the wrong Hilde leafing as quickly as I could through the spilled papers and brittle newspaper clippings.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered to myself. “There’s something. There must be.”

  But there wasn’t. I had handfuls of receipts, and newspaper clippings dating from the sixties and seventies. I clenched my teeth around a whole set of curses and set the papers as carefully as I could in the remains of the box. I straightened up, looking around for someplace I could safely stash the whole mess. And I froze.

  Because there, on top of the filing cabinet, where it had been hidden by the box, was a long, black cardboard tube. I set the box down on the floor, since there was nowhere else to put it, and with my heart in my mouth, I reached the tube down. It was battered and dented and the white cap on the end was held in place with ancient elastic. Somebody had written a date on the cap: 1920.

  I eased the elastic back and pulled the cap off. Inside was a roll of blue-and-white paper.

  “Well, well. Hello, you beautiful little Prohibition-era blueprints,” I murmured. “And just where have you been all my life?”

  38

  “Martine, I need to borrow your bartender.”

  Since I had not actually been planning on stealing a large roll of documents from the hotel, I hadn’t driven to the appointment this morning. Now I was jogging toward the bus stop, trying to juggle my portfolio and the tube of blueprints, while keeping the phone jammed between my shoulder and my ear.

  In heels. Yes. Bad plan. I know. At least I hadn’t had to try to smuggle myself and my illicit acquisition out across the lobby. On the list of things I’d found in the hotel basement was the service bay and it’s lovely door open to the driveway outside.

  “And just what is it you need my bartender for?” demanded Martine. I didn’t blame her for being short with me. I was a little surprised she’d picked up at all. I could hear the sounds of her kitchen going full tilt in the background. “And I’m assuming you mean Sean and not Wanda.”

  “Yes, Sean.” I wobbled to a stop at the bus stop and sat down on the bench. “I need him and maybe his dad to help me read some very old blueprints.” A blueprint is not like any other kind of drawing. It’s a highly technical, information-packed document with all the specifications written in a special combination of jargon and shorthand. The McNallys both did construction and repair work to supplement their bartending, and they’d have more experience with blueprints than I did. If I was really lucky, Old Sean might even have seen some prints of the same vintage I had currently tucked under my arm. There were, after all, a lot of old buildings in Portsmouth.

  “And this is so urgent because . . . ?” prompted Martine.

  “Because I might be able to find out where the tunnel where Jimmy Upton’s body was dumped comes out at the Harbor’s Rest, and if I can do that I might be able to prove who really killed him, and if I can do that—”

  “You get Jake and Miranda off the hook. Got it.”

  “Jake and Miranda and Chuck,” I said. “You told me to call you about this stuff,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to steal my staff during lunch rush.” She paused. “There’s something you should maybe know.”

  “What?” Talk fast. The bus was turning the corner. I stood up.

  “Kelly Pierce was in here earlier, and she was meeting somebody.”

  I found I was not at all surprised. “Tall woman? Dark hair? Serious cheekbones?

  “That’s her.”

  “That’s Shelly Kinsdale, Jimmy Upton’s sister.” The bus crept down the hill. “Was Christine Hilde there, too?”

  “Didn’t see her.”

  “I don’t suppose you heard what they were talking about?”

  “Do I have time to stand around eavesdropping on the job?” she snapped.

  “No, Chef.”

  “Too right. But let me tell you, it’s amazing what people will say in front of their servers.” I heard the grin in her voice and felt an answering smile spread across my own. The bus was almost here. I grabbed my portfolio and the blueprint tube. “According to Victor, Kelly told this other woman not to worry. She said as far as she was concerned, the deal was still on. She had nothing left to lose now, and she said she was looking forward to giving the old lady a small taste of her own medicine.”

  “Somehow I’m guessing that’s not a direct quote.”

  “You do not need the direct quote.”

  “Thank you, Martine. I owe you and your whole staff . . . something.”

  “Too right,” she said again. “I’ll let Sean know you need him.”

  I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to put it exactly like that, but the bus pulled up and the door opened, letting off a couple with three kids of varying sizes. I hung up the phone and juggled my stuff so I could shove it back into my purse. At the same time I thought Christine must be breathing a sigh of relief. She’d told me Kelly was essential to her plans.

  I wondered if those plans were why Dale had fired Kelly. I wondered if the termination had been his idea or somebody else’s. I dug in my wallet for the fare so I could continue my getaway.

  I also wondered where Gretchen Hilde was right now.

  * * *

  That last one, it turned out, was easy to answer. I knew something was up even before I walked in my front door or, rather, ran, because somewhere between the bus stop and the cottage, it had started to rain.

  Alistair was sitting on the porch as I came running up the walk with my portfolio held over my head and the tube of blueprints clutched to my chest.

  “Merow,” he tried to tell me.

  “Yeah, there’s visitors,” I said as I shouldered the door open. “Got it, big guy, thanks.”

  “Merp,” he acknowledged, and vanished, probably headed for someplace drier.

  The door was unlocked. “Grandma B.B.?” I called as I pushed it open. The rain outside filled the room with an early autumn twilight and all the lamps were on, making the house feel snug and warm. I shook off my portfolio and the ends of my hair. “I’m home!”

  “Hello, dear. We’re in the living room.”

  “We” were Grandma B.B., Julia (with wiener-dog entourage under the wing-backed chair), and Gretchen Hilde.

  I froze in place, hotel blueprints clutched in front of me.

  “Erm. Hi, Julia. Hello, Mrs. Hilde.” I set the blueprint tube down next to the hall table, along with my portfolio. All casual-like. I made myself smile. I made myself walk over and kiss Grandma B.B. on the cheek. “Sorry if I’m interrupting. But . . .”

  “But you’re just a little surprised?” suggested Grandma, leading the witness like the expert she was. “Particularly since we’re sitting in your living room drinking your tea?”

  “And as lovely as it’s been, I was just leaving.” Gretchen set her cup down on my Arts and Crafts–style coffee table. She looked very different from the immaculate and confidant woman I’d seen at the Harbor’s Rest. Her copper-colored hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, and instead of a pants suit, she wore a loose button-down blouse over a pair of rumpled black slacks. “Thank you for inviting me, Annabelle, Julia. It’s always good to . . . talk.”

  “I’m sure Anna doesn’t mean to chase you out, Gretchen,” Julia told her.

  “Yes, please, stay,” I said. I shot for cheerful and missed. I did manage polite, though. “Grandma B.B.’s friends are welcome here and she knows it. It’s just that if you’re going to keep inviting people over, Gran, I’m going to need to dry some more mint.” I tried another smile. I also settled myself on
the window seat.

  Gretchen looked at us, one after another.

  “Just tell me one thing,” she said evenly. “Would you even have invited me here if the three of you weren’t still trying to clear Jake and Miranda Luce for Jimmy’s murder?”

  I had absolutely no answer for that. Fortunately, I didn’t need one.

  “Of course we would,” said Grandma B.B.

  “We’re friends,” added Julia.

  “We were friends,” Gretchen corrected her firmly. “At least I thought we were until Annabelle stole my boyfriend and you got us mixed up in that disastrous nightclub scheme . . .”

  Julia turned a truly incredible shade of pink.

  “Yip?” Leo scrabbled to his feet.

  “Yap.” Max had evidently heard it all before, and he just tucked his nose under his forepaws.

  “You will recall I paid back every penny,” said Julia. “With interest.”

  “And walked out on the deal,” snapped Gretchen. “Leaving me with egg on my face.”

  “I’m sure—” began Grandma.

  “Listen, Mrs. Hilde,” I interrupted. I’d already had a long day. I could not shake the feeling that things were closing in on us all, one way or another. “I know you’re tired of this, and you’re worried because nobody’s got any real answers about what happened to Jimmy—”

  “Yes, they do,” Gretchen cut me off sharply. “Lieutenant Blanchard has been very clear—”

  But Grandma B.B. shook her head. “You know he’s wrong, Gretchen. You have from the beginning.”

  “I have absolute faith that the lieutenant is on the right track.”

  “Because if he isn’t, people might start looking at your family for who killed Jimmy.” I said, even though I couldn’t seem to raise my voice above a whisper. “And maybe even you.”

  “Anna,” said Julia. “That’s eno—”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gretchen snapped. “Any of you.”

  “Then tell us, Gretchen,” said Grandma, quietly but firmly. “Make us understand.”

  For a moment, I thought Mrs. Hilde was just going to grab her purse and walk out. I could tell at least part of her wanted to, but pride won out. Whatever else had happened, she was still Gretchen Hilde, and she was not going to let anyone see her run away.

  Yes, I did pick up on some of this right away. Grandma B.B. explained the rest later.

  “It’s bad enough that Christine was going to leave the business, and you,” I said, and the ideas were falling into place almost as quickly as the words were coming out of my mouth. “The bad publicity around the family being investigated for murder would be too much. Did you use your influence with Blanchard to get him to go after Jake?”

  “I have done what I had to do to keep my home and my family together,” she answered, each word as hard as stone. “Nothing more and certainly nothing less. What earthly reason could I have had to kill Jimmy?”

  “Only one reason,” I said. “Because he was walking out on you.”

  Gretchen froze.

  “We found Jimmy’s sister,” I said. “She works for Dreame Royale. She told us Jimmy came around to sweet-talk her into not opening a new hotel in Portsmouth.” The Hildes were ready to fight dirty to keep out even a little bit of competition. This might not even be Gretchen’s first bribe. “Did he get the five thousand from you as a bribe for her?”

  Grandma B.B. reached for Gretchen’s hand.

  “Oh, Gretchen, you didn’t—”

  “I didn’t do anything!” She yanked her hand away. “And if I had, I would never have tried to bribe Dreame Royale with a measly five thousand dollars! Really! I’m not that much of an old fool!

  Her anger had turned Gretchen pale, and I was sure she wished she were a thousand miles away, talking about anything but this. I could see it in her sad, tired face, just like I could see her resemblance to her daughter and her sons. What I couldn’t see was any furtiveness or guilt.

  “Yip,” Leo agreed, and his tail went thup-thup against the floor.

  Which settled it. Gretchen Hilde was telling the truth, about the money at least. I’d think about how I was starting to trust the judgment of a mini-dachshund later. Right now I was too busy wondering about that money and about the sketch I’d made of it changing hands.

  “Jimmy might have scraped it together himself,” Gretchen told us. “He had a great deal to lose if Harbor’s Rest went under.”

  “And how much was a great deal?” asked Julia.

  “Despite what some people seem to think, I am fully aware that Harbor’s Rest is in trouble,” replied Gretchen coolly. “Since I will not sell out, something else has to be done. Food tourism is becoming increasingly popular. I’d been thinking for a while that even if the hotel itself is a little old-fashioned, we could still turn the restaurant into a destination. We could put together packages for exclusive dinners, wine tours, cooking classes, all sorts of things. Perhaps we could even partner with one of the river-tour companies and sponsor seacoast tasting tours. We’d fill rooms as well as tables. But to do that we’d need a brilliant chef in charge. A real headliner.”

  “Jimmy,” I said.

  She nodded. “I knew he had everything it would take almost as soon as I laid eyes on him. He had skill and he had presence, and, yes, he had enough charm to light up a room.”

  Gretchen squeezed her eyes shut. I grabbed a box of Kleenex off the bookshelf and handed it to her. She stared at it for a moment before she pulled one out and dabbed at the corner of one eye.

  “I made sure he knew that we were going to put a full effort behind him. As soon as we had the expansion and the loans, we’d start on the restaurant. He’d have complete charge of the project. He’d be able to design it from the ground up. Our success would be his.

  “But in the end, it wasn’t enough.”

  And I would bet I knew why. Shelly. He had gone to see her, to try to convince her to keep from setting up as a competitor, and she had laughed at him. Shelly had told us she planned to ruin him, and I was willing to bet that during that meeting she’d done her level best to play to his impulses and his temper.

  “What some people do with their lives,” I murmured.

  Gretchen sniffed and began folding the tissue into a tidy rectangle. “When I found him that night, he . . . he was cleaning out his locker. He said he’d made a huge mistake. He said he had better things to do than to try to salvage a white elephant and an old . . .”

  “It’s all right, Gretchen,” said Grandma.

  “It wasn’t all right!” Gretchen’s fist knotted around the tissue. “I poured everything I had into him! I knew he could save us and he . . . he . . .”

  He was walking out. She was being abandoned. Again. And she’d been right there when he was getting ready to leave. I swallowed hard. Was it possible Christine had been right about this woman? Could she have found a way to have Jimmy killed?

  This time, when Grandma took Gretchen’s hand with both of hers, Gretchen did not pull away. “I’m so sorry,” Grandma whispered. “It must have been terrible for you.”

  “Did your children all know about your plans?” asked Julia.

  “Of course they did.” Gretchen sniffed again, but this time the sound was just irritated. “We had several meetings about it. Richard and Dale thought I was infatuated and that Jimmy was using me to further his career.”

  “What about Christine?” I asked. “What did she think?”

  Gretchen’s mouth twitched. “She thought I’d picked the wrong chef, and she said so. At length.” She sighed. “I should just be grateful it was Richard who caught me crying. Christine probably would have just laughed at her poor old mother.”

  “Mrs. Hilde,” I said. “Can I ask one more question?”

  “I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

 
This was probably true. “Did you tell Dale to fire Kelly Pierce?”

  She bowed her head. “I did.”

  “Was it because you found out she was working with Christine?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Oh, Gretchen.” Grandma B.B. sighed.

  “Christine’s worried about you, Mrs. Hilde,” I told her. “She feels like she can only save the family or the hotel, and she chose the family. That’s why she’s doing what she’s doing. She wants there to be somewhere for you all to land if Harbor’s Rest fails.”

  “Then she should have been working to make sure it doesn’t fail!” snapped Gretchen.

  “So, Christine is stupid,” said Julia flatly.

  “What?” Gretchen drew herself up. Max and Leo lifted their heads, their ears and tails suddenly on alert. “Are you calling my daughter stupid?”

  “No.” Julia rested both hands on top of her walking stick. “But you are.”

  “I most certainly am not! I would never call Christine stupid!”

  “Then, since she is not stupid, will you admit she might be right that the hotel could fail?” Gretchen’s jaw clenched. Julia inclined her head. “I see.”

  “She wanted me to sell my home!”

  “And those are the only two options?” Julia inquired. “Sell or go down with the ship? It’s not possible your daughter, who is a marketing expert, and who, as you point out, is not stupid, and who has the future of her own children as well as the rest of the family to look to, could find a third way?”

  “She shouldn’t have done anything without talking to me!”

  “And if she had talked to you? What would you have done?”

  Gretchen was silent for a long time. “I would have told her what I just told you.”

  Julia thumped her walking stick. “It’s time to let go of that anger, Gretchen. It’s not serving you anymore.”

  “It was Joshua and Millicent who walked out on you, not Christine,” Grandma B.B. added.

  Gretchen looked up, startled. “Who told you about Millicent?”