“Yes. We have quite a number of San Francisco clients. What most people don’t realize is there are a lot of ranches and old homes in this area that were built about the time the Arts and Crafts movement became popular in the early 20th century. That was the style of furniture and accessories the residents bought in those days. Many of the younger people who inherited the houses and the furniture want newer furnishings and we’ve developed a reputation for buying Arts and Crafts style furniture and accessories at fair prices. It works both ways. The sellers know we’re fair and the buyers know we have good quality merchandise. I guess you could say it’s a win-win for everyone.”
“From what you’re saying, am I to understand that you’re one of the owners?”
“Yes. My name is Linda Wright. I’m the co-owner of the shop along with my partner, Barbara Nelson.”
“I’m Liz Lucas, the owner of the Red Cedar Spa. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Barbara Nelson’s body was discovered by my manager this morning in one of the cottages at the spa where she was staying. She was dead.”
Linda’s face visibly paled and she sat down heavily in a nearby chair. “I can’t believe it. I just saw her night before last at Dave’s victory party, and she was fine. Do you have any idea what caused her death? To my knowledge she was in excellent health.”
“No. The coroner found no marks on her body that would indicate any foul play. The lock on the door didn’t appear to have been tampered with. The police chief thinks maybe it was suicide. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels on the nightstand next to her bed.”
“No, that just can’t be. Barbara hated hard liquor. The only thing she ever drank was wine and maybe on a special occasion, a glass of champagne. It is absolutely not possible that she would have taken her own life by drinking excessively. Is the coroner going to do an autopsy on her body?”
“Yes. He said he couldn’t get to it today, but he’s scheduled it for tomorrow. Why do you ask?”
“I can’t help but think she was murdered. Barbara was in perfect health and a very strong Catholic. She would never commit suicide. I have no idea why, but I think someone put the bottle there to make it look like it was suicide, but I’d bet every penny I have it wasn’t.”
“Have you noticed anything strange about her in the last few days? Was she having problems? Did she share anything with you?”
Linda looked down and suddenly seemed to develop an interest in her fingers, while avoiding eye contact with Liz. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve heard rumors that Dave was having an affair. That may be all it is, a rumor. I’m wondering if Barbara had heard the same.”
“Nothing new there. Barbara had heard the rumors for a long time. This time it…”
“You just said, ‘this time it.’ Are you implying that there had been other affairs before this one?”
“Barbara learned long ago she would never be the only woman in Dave’s life. As I mentioned, she’s a very strong Catholic and she simply decided she would stay with him no matter what. She was sure he would never divorce her for his current ‘flavor of the month’ as Barbara called them. He always came back, repentant, and promising never to do it again. I think she really believed him when he made those kinds of promises to her. Plus, she liked being the mayor’s wife. In a town as small as Red Cedar that’s a pretty big deal.”
“I can see how it would be. I know you haven’t had time to think about it, but will Barbara’s death have some adverse effect on your business? Can you run it by yourself without Barbara as your partner?”
“Yes. The business is in my name. Barbara was a partner in name only, but because she was from a family whose roots go back to the founding fathers of this town, it was advantageous for me to bring her in as a partner. She knew everyone for miles around, plus she had great instincts and was very knowledgeable about the Arts and Crafts movement. I only know of one time when her knowledge was questioned.” She paused. “Never mind, forget I said that.” Whatever she was finding of interest in her fingers intensified.
“Linda, I’m not trained in law enforcement, but from what you’re telling me you seem certain that Barbara didn’t commit suicide. For all we know, she may have died of natural causes, but you also told me she was in excellent health. If she didn’t commit suicide, and she was in excellent health and now she’s dead, that leaves one conclusion, that someone may have murdered her. If that’s true, the reputation of my spa is at stake. Please tell me what you know.”
“I can’t see where this would have anything to do with her death, but a few weeks ago she bought a Tiffany style lamp from a man who inherited a ranch from his grandfather. It was in the ranch house. He needed money to maintain the ranch and sold us the lamp. His grandfather had told him several times that the lamp was an original Tiffany lamp. It was beautiful. Barbara was pretty knowledgeable about Tiffany lamps, and she agreed with the young man’s grandfather, that it was an original and the work on it was extraordinary. She bought it for $20,000 and called one of our clients in San Francisco who collected Tiffany items. He came up the shop and bought the lamp for $48,000. Naturally, we were thrilled. Matter of fact, I think that was one of those times we shared a glass of champagne to celebrate the sale, as it was one of our largest. Last week the buyer called and said he had the lamp appraised, and the appraiser told him it was not an authentic Tiffany lamp. Barbara told him the appraiser was wrong. He asked for his money back, and she refused because she was certain the lamp was authentic. He threatened to sue the shop.”
“Has he?”
“No.”
“What do you think? Was it real or was it a fake?”
“I’d put my money on Barbara. The buyer, his name is Henry, is not a wealthy man. He wears tattered clothes, drives a twenty year old car, and scrimps on everything so he can buy Tiffany pieces. It’s almost as if he’s obsessed with the objects. I can understand why if someone told him it was a fake, he’d be furious. That’s a lot of money to spend for something that’s not authentic.”
“How did Barbara end the conversation with him?”
“She asked him to give her the name of the appraiser, but he refused to tell her. She told him to have the appraiser call her after tomorrow, because she was going to a local spa for a couple of days. Barbara really wasn’t all that concerned about it. She told me that a lot of appraisers these days take a couple of classes in antiques and then call themselves appraisers. It’s not a closely regulated occupation. Henry just wanted someone to tell him it was an authentic Tiffany lamp, so Barbara was sure he’d gotten the appraisal from some individual who called himself an appraiser, but had no established credentials.”
“Interesting. Does Henry seem like the type of man who could commit a crime?”
“I’ve only met him once. He’s rather fanatical, but whether or not that means he’s capable of committing a crime, I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, if it’s determined that Barbara was murdered, then I would be interested in knowing who might have had a motive for killing her, harsh as that sounds. This guy Henry might fit into that category.”
“I see what you mean. I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you. I’m going to close the shop and go home. I need to make some decisions about what I need to do now that Barbara is deceased.”
“You’ve been very helpful, Linda. Here’s my card. Think about everything we’ve talked about, and if you remember something you think may be important in helping me understand how and why Barbara died, I’d really appreciate it if you would call me. Thanks, and again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
CHAPTER 6
On the drive back to the spa, Liz looked at the clock on the van’s dashboard and realized she’d have to hurry to get the appetizers and dinner made in time for the spa guests. She began to mentally plan what she could fix.
Thank heavens I always keep some appetizers in the freezer that I can heat up in a couple of minutes. Those onion bites and the cheese sausage ba
lls I saved from last week will be perfect. People always love them. No one needs to know they came from the freezer. For dinner I can do a Caesar salad with a make-it-yourself kind of soft taco. I’ll fry some onions, peppers, and flap steak, and put it in bowls people can pass around. With cheese, chopped onions, sour cream, and avocado slices, the tacos will seem like the best gourmet Mexican food the guests have ever had. This is definitely a Mexican dinner, so the chocolate mousse I made yesterday with Mexican chocolate will finish it off. Think I’ll put a bowl of chopped cooked bacon on the table and the more adventurous ones can sprinkle some on their mousse. Topped with bacon, it’s one of my favorite things.
She had just gotten out of her van and was walking into the lodge when her cell phone began to ring. She looked at the screen and saw it was Roger. “Hi Roger. How are you?”
“Finishing up preparing for a trial I’ve got that starts tomorrow. It looks like it’s going to take up the next week or two, so if you don’t mind, I thought I’d come up tonight and spend the night. Do you have an empty cottage I can use? I know it’s short notice, but I really miss you.”
The thought of an empty cottage made her think of Barbara dying in cottage #6. “I’d love it if you could come up. I really would like to talk to you about some things that happened here today. Actually, it’s more in your area of expertise than mine.”
“Why don’t you fill me in now and I can think about them on the way up?”
She quickly told him everything that had happened beginning with when Bertha had burst through the door that morning and concluding with her visit to the antique shop.
“Good grief, Liz. I really don’t like this. The police chief sounds like a bumbling idiot. I’ll spend the night and leave early tomorrow morning. I can get out of here within the hour. What time do you serve dinner to the guests?”
“I usually have wine and appetizers at 6:30, and I serve dinner at 7:15. That gives them a little time to read or whatever after dinner. As you know, I don’t have a television in any of the cottages or in the main lodge, although I do have one in my living quarters. I want them to relax, and the grim news of the day that always seems to be on television sure doesn’t help put them in a relaxation mood.”
“That’s perfect. Plan on me for dinner, and I’ll see you about 6:00 unless the traffic gods are working against me.”
“Drive safely.”
*****
Promptly at 6:00 Liz’s cell phone rang. “Hi, Roger, where are you?” she asked, seeing his name pop on her cell phone screen.
“I’m driving up the lane. Just wanted you to know that I made it safe and sound and on time.”
While she was still on the phone with him, she walked to the front door of the lodge and opened it, stepping over Brandy Boy, who barely acknowledged her. She saw Roger’s dark blue Audi driving up the lane, pressed the end button on her phone, and waved to him. He parked in the lodge parking lot, got out of his car, and walked over to her, giving her a big hug.
“What did I ever do to deserve that?” she asked, laughing. “Actually, I think I could get used to it. It’s nice to have a man around and particularly an attractive one.”
“Flattery will get you anywhere, ma’am. Keep it up,” he said. He opened the trunk of his car and took a small suitcase and bag from it. “Which cottage am I going to be in?” he asked as they walked into the lodge. Without giving it much thought, Liz made a sudden decision.
“Actually, Roger, I think you can put your things downstairs in my living quarters, if that’s all right with you,” she said shyly.
“All right with me? Are you kidding? I’ve been hoping against hope that someday this might happen. Are you sure?” he asked, cupping her chin in his hand and kissing her.
“Roger,” she said, pulling back and looking up at him. “I’ve never told you about my niggle. It’s kind of this thing I’ve had all my life and I pretty much listen to it. When I was a little kid it told me not to go down the driveway on my bike. I went anyway. The brake on my bike failed, and I crashed in the middle of the street. A car was racing down the street and came to a screeching halt just inches from me. If I’d listened to my little niggle that near tragedy would never have happened.
“When I was in high school I was the president of our church’s youth group and one day we went hiking in the mountains. I got separated from the rest of the group and came to a fork in the trail. I was hopelessly lost and didn’t know which way to go. It was late in the day and the weather was rapidly turning bad. If I’d had to spend the night alone in the mountains, I would have been in serious trouble. This thing I call a niggle told me to go down the trail on the left and I did. Sure enough, in a few minutes I saw the group I was with a little farther down the trail. I don’t know what would have happened to me if I’d gone down the other trail. I probably wouldn’t be here today. Anyway, the niggle is telling me that it would like you to stay with me tonight. Okay?”
“Oh yeah, Liz, oh yeah! I just hope this means what I think it does.”
“It does,” she said, looking down, her cheeks clearly becoming red.
“I want to make a promise to you. If at any time you want to renege on your decision, I’ll understand, and it will be fine with me. Okay?”
“Yes, but the niggle tells me I’m making the right decision. Anyway, I have to get dinner ready for the guests. We can talk after they leave and go back to their cottages. I’d like your thoughts on what I told you about earlier.”
“Better get a notepad,” Roger said. “I’ve got a lot to say on the subject and a lot of things I’d like you to do, because this bumbling idiot who calls himself the chief of police sure isn’t going to do them. If the autopsy report comes back that Barbara was murdered, you’ve got to find out who did it in order to protect the reputation of the spa. We’ll talk later. I’m going down and unpack. Is this going to be a problem for the guests, you know, me staying in your suite?”
“If it was the people from town then yes, it would be a problem. I’d definitely become the rumor of the moment at Gertie’s Diner, but here I don’t think the guests will even notice or, for that matter, even care. There’s no reason for them to know, and think about it this way, they’re only here for a couple of days. They really don’t care what the owner of the lodge and spa does in her personal life. Plus, because you’re here before they arrive at 6:30, they’ll have no idea what cottage you’re in. It will be our little secret,” she said.
“Well in that case I’ll make it a point to be back up here before they arrive. Sure don’t want to see your reputation tarnished because of me.”
She smiled at him, realizing once again how attractive he was. On someone else the grey that showed on his temples would signal the onset of an aging man, but Roger’s salt and pepper hair merely made him look distinguished. His sky blue eyes had permanent crinkle marks next to them from the smile he wore so easily, and she couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to becoming familiar with a body that definitely showed signs of being well taken care of.
“Back in a minute, sweetheart,” he said. “I need to get out of this courtroom suit and into something a little more comfortable.”
“I’d go with you, but I really need to get ready for my guests, and Roger, thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Actually, Liz, it’s probably better if you don’t come downstairs with me. We might be late for your guests, and that could be both embarrassing as well as bad for business.”
“You’re incorrigible!” she laughed, throwing a dish towel at him.
CHAPTER 7
After dinner and when the last guest had left the lodge, Roger said, “Liz, I’ll be back in a minute. I made some notes concerning what I think you should do if it turns out that the woman who died in cottage #6 didn’t die of natural causes. They’re downstairs.”
She took the last of the chocolate mousse bowls from the dinner table, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. Bertha would be coming in to get the
breakfast ready for the guests in the morning, but Liz didn’t want her to walk into the kitchen and find dirty dishes left from the evening meal. Liz treasured Bertha and knew that part of the success of the spa was due to the seamless way she handled everything associated with it. Liz had come to rely on her, but just as importantly, she considered her to be a friend.
Liz always prepared a couple of different casseroles for Bertha to heat for the guests’ breakfast. When Bertha came to the lodge in the mornings she assembled a buffet style breakfast table for the guests, so they could help themselves to the casseroles as well as croissants, butter, jam, bagels, a large bowl of fresh fruit, and hot tea or coffee. Each morning, as Bertha turned to drive up the lane that led to the lodge, she stopped at the mailbox and picked up the San Francisco Chronicle and the Portland Tribune for the guests. They helped themselves to breakfast, and many stayed long after they’d eaten, reading the morning newspapers.
She put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and had just started it when Roger returned. “Why don’t you sit down, Liz. I brought you a notepad and a pen. I have some thoughts and ideas.”
They sat at the large cedar dining room table, and Roger began to speak. “Let’s assume that the autopsy shows that the woman, I think you said her name was Barbara, died of natural causes. If that’s so, then you really don’t need to do anything. I’m sure it will be in the local newspaper, and you probably know the editor. I would call him and tell him how sorry you are this happened at the spa, and all that kind of feel-good stuff. However, if the report comes back that she didn’t die of natural causes, meaning that she was murdered, I think you should say you’re going to do everything you can to find out who murdered her. From what you’ve told me, that bumbling police chief is probably incapable of solving the crime, so it would only make sense for you to do everything you can to solve the crime and protect the reputation of the spa.”
Murder in Cottage #6 (Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) Page 3
