“Carlo claims that he adored her.”
Jeremy grinned. “You know, in his mind, maybe that is true. He was always baking her goodies. But half the time she’d just throw them in the trash.”
“How about Gwen?”
“Be serious.”
“I am. How well do you know her?”
He threw his head back and groaned. “I’ve known Gwen all my life. She was my mother’s best friend. After my mother died, she lived with us so that she could take care of me. And she’s worked for my father in one or another of his restaurants from the start. Gwen is eternal. The mother figure for us all.”
Somehow that sounded just about right. Gwen was the sort you could rely on to do what had to be done. As an older woman, she could fill that role and stay part of that family she cared so much about.
“Sandy thinks of Gwen as a mother figure too,” Jeremy noted. “And Sandy’s mother, Lulu, was another one of my mother’s best friends and they were always part of the picture as I was growing up.”
“She died recently?”
He nodded. “A couple of years ago. Breast cancer.”
“Oh dear. That’s a shame.” I thought that over for a minute, then added, “Who else is part of this extended family group your father seems to have gathered around him?”
He shrugged. “That’s it.”
“Who else is living here in the compound?”
He thought for a moment. “There’s Amy, the new waitress who just moved in last week. I don’t think she could have known Marguerite well enough to hate her like that. Not yet.”
“Hmm.”
“And there’s Jessica. The pretty girl with the long hair? Marguerite was always firing her, but somehow she never left. Oh, and Paolo. He’s gone now, but he quit partly because she humiliated him in front of a whole party of rich farmers he was trying to impress at the time.” He shrugged. “That just about does it.”
“How about your father?” Jill piped up. “I know you think he was going to marry Marguerite, but he hasn’t told many people, has he? Could that be because of some hidden animosity?”
“My father? Kill Marguerite?” Jeremy looked shocked. “No, I don’t think so.” He thought of something else. “Hey, there’s that winery guy who is always trying to date Sandy.”
“Billy Joe?” I said, and he nodded.
“And then there’s that artist with all the hair.”
“Oh, Jagger?” I said before I could stop myself.
“What?” Jill stared at me, aghast. “What are you talking about Jagger for?”
“Uh…”
“Yes, Jagger,” Jeremy said. “That’s the one. He’s working on a mural on the back wall of the banquet room. From what I saw, he and Marguerite took quite a shine to each other. And of course Sandy thinks he’s hot.”
“What?” Jill was outraged.
It took a few minutes for us to calm her down and convince her that there was nothing to what Jeremy had said.
“He didn’t tell me he had a commission to paint here,” she said a bit sulkily.
“Maybe he was going to surprise you,” I said, trying to smooth things over. Then Jeremy asked me a strange question that refocused us all.
“Listen,” he said, biting his lower lip and looking at me speculatively. “I’ll bet you know all about crime and stuff. Don’t you?”
I did a double take. “No. I hardly know anything. I’ve never been a real detective.”
He paused for a moment, then blurted out, “How do you get someone’s DNA tested?”
I stared and Jill made a quizzical face.
“I mean, if a regular person wants to get a DNA test, how does he do it? Where does he go?”
“You mean…for a paternity test sort of thing?” I asked, startled a bit.
“No….,” he began, then backtracked. “Well, okay, yeah.”
“First you might want to get a cotton swab…”
“Lipstick on a glass should work, shouldn’t it? So I just take it…where?”
“There’s a small forensic lab in the Workman Building, right next to the police station. You could try taking it in there.”
“I just walk in off the street?”
I shrugged. “You might want to give them a call first. But that’s easy.”
He smiled and nodded, looking somehow relieved. “Good,” he said. “Hey, thanks.”
We talked a bit longer. Jill and Jeremy were flirting again, obviously feeling the effects of the lovely wine. But I was cold sober and wanted to stay that way. While they were busy giggling and cracking jokes, I got up and went to the kitchen to throw out my wine and exchange it for plain old water. On the counter, I saw a coffee cup with lipstick on it, carefully folded into paper napkins and stuck in a small cardboard box. That, I assumed, had to be the mug Jeremy had been talking about taking to get tested.
I went back into the living room with my glass of water held as though it contained the best bubbly around, and joined in the laughing for awhile.
As we finally rose to leave, we were a merry bunch and we sort of jostled together, all trying to get out the doorway at the same time. I knew Jeremy had done that on purpose. I could even feel an exploratory slide of his hand as though trying to steady me, but actually feeling for what was once in my back pocket.
“Sorry,” I murmured to him as he gave me a hug at the door. “Better luck next time.” But I whispered it and I doubt he heard. He was busy hugging Jill by then.
We waved as we headed down the hill. We got into the car and I said to Jill, “Is he still watching?”
She poked her head out, waved again and whispered back, “Yes. He’s still watching.”
I started the car and drove toward the exit, slowing as we entered the tree-lined lane where we couldn’t be seen from up the hill. Then I pulled over, cackling heartily.
“Hah!” I said. “He thought he was going to get that wallet from me but I switched it when he wasn’t looking. Now let’s take a look at what is in the thing.”
I reached inside my shirt, slipped my hand into my bra where the item should have been resting, and came up empty.
“What?” I squawked. I felt the other side. I shook my shirt to see if anything fell out. Nothing.
I stared at Jill. “He got it. Somehow, he got it.”
Chapter 11
Jill felt truly outraged. “Well let’s go right back and get it back from him,” she said stoutly. “How dare he steal that purse thing anyway?”
I was truly tempted, but I knew it was no use. After all, I had to admit, it wasn’t really mine. For all I knew, it was his. Though I was pretty sure it was actually Sandy’s. And for some reason, Jeremy was keen to have it. And now he did.
I railed against pickpockets all the way back to Mad for Mocha. I was so upset I didn’t notice that Jill was unusually quiet until I pulled into her parking lot and stopped to let her out.
She turned and looked at me, her blue eyes clouded with worry.
“Mele, what was that about Jagger? Did you see him at the restaurant today? Do you know what he was doing there?”
“No, sweetheart, I didn’t see him there today,” I could say quite honestly. “I don’t know anything about this supposed commission to do murals. You’re going to have to ask him.”
She nodded, then gave my hand a squeeze. “I…I really like him, you know,” she said so earnestly, it almost brought tears to my eyes. Then she smiled and hopped out. “Call me later,” she ordered, putting on her business face. She was back in work mode before she got through that big glass door.
She really liked him. I sighed. I supposed he was okay. I just wished I felt I could trust him. If he broke Jill’s heart….!
Well, let’s just say there would be repercussions.
I headed home to find Bebe waiting for me. I quickly told her all about the strange afternoon we’d had—including my interview with Carlo.
“Poor Carlo,” she said. “I stopped by about half an hour ago and took hi
m some of my famous Swedish Oatmeal cookies. He looked so sad sitting there in that cell. He knew dinner preparations were happening at the Kitchen, and he wasn’t a part of it. It’s tearing him apart.”
“So they haven’t offered him bail yet?”
“He hasn’t even seen a judge. I think they have to charge him with something before he can get bail. Isn’t that how it works?”
I shrugged. Some representative I was. I didn’t have the slightest idea how the court system was set up. All I could think about right now was how I was going to get him cleared—and that meant, how I was going to figure out who the guilty party really was.
We had a simple dinner, discussing the murder all the while. Bebe seemed to be especially interested in the Champaine family dynamics. She was full of questions about Nigel and Margerite.
“They were engaged, you know. Secretly engaged. But engaged none the less.”
I frowned. It still seemed an odd match to me. Except that I’d seen him the night before, going into her cabin, hadn’t I?
“Why secretly?” I asked. “That seems like a strange thing to do.”
“I think it was in order to keep from bad feeling developing among the staff. Suspicions of favoritism and such. Who knows? But everybody pretty much knew anyway. I mean, if I know, you know it’s common knowledge. I’m not usually the early bird with the juiciest worm, am I?”
I ignored that and sighed. “Poor guy,” I agreed, though I didn’t even know the man.
Bebe went into the study to prepare for a report she had to present to the Flower Growers Association a little later that evening and I did dishes and mooned around in the yard for a while, wishing Dante would make an appearance. No such luck. I spent some time poking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Aunty Jane, or even Sami, but I was disappointed again. All I heard was that silly bird and all I saw were shadows.
Just after I heard Bebe take off for her meeting I did get a call from Roy.
“Hey Hawaiian girl,” Roy said in a low, sexy tone he knew I usually liked to hear. “What’s happening?”
Right now that magic wasn’t working on me. I had too many troubles on my mind to waste time flirting around.
“Not much,” I answered automatically, then went right into information gathering. “Do you still have poor Carlo sitting there in a jail cell?”
“Mele,” he said, starting to sound annoyed. “It’s not like I’m personally torturing the guy for the fun of it. This is the way the law works. He has to follow rules just like I do.”
I knew he was right and I tried to temper my emotions on the subject. “Okay. Sorry. You know what you’re doing and obviously I haven’t a clue.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t know, Mele. I think what you’ve got is too many clues.”
“Au contraire, mister detective. I’m starving for ideas on where to look for possible bad guys. Come on. Give me a hint. Who else are you looking at?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Just one little hint?”
“No.”
I sighed. “Okay, then how about this. Are you looking at Sandy Lancer?”
“Sandy Lancer?”
“The waitress.”
He paused. “What have you got on her?”
“Ah hah!” I said. “You don’t know, do you? All I can say is, take a second look. And then there’s Nigel Champaine, the owner. I know he was in giving a statement today. Is he a suspect?”
He spent a little time clearing his throat. “A lot of people give statements if they are involved or close to those involved in a murder. Doesn’t mean they’re suspects.”
“But Nigel…”
“Mele, the man wasn’t even in town at the time of the murder.”
That was what was so frustrating. Roy says things I know are wrong, but I can’t give him proof. Makes you want to gnash your teeth about. I took a deep breath instead.
“So you’ve got the time pinned down? How about the method? Was it poison?”
“Mele, Mele, Mele. Will you just leave this to the professionals?”
“I’d be glad to if I had faith in them doing a thorough job of it.”
Okay, I didn’t actually say it, but I wanted to. Instead, I tried to do a little prodding.
“If she didn’t bleed to death from the head wound when she fell against the coffee table…”
“Whoa, whoa, don’t jump to any conclusions.”
“So she did bleed to death?”
He sighed. “What the hell. It’ll be in the morning papers anyway. Cause of death was poison. Time of death around two am.”
I sucked in my breath. “And the poison was in the tiramisu? For real?”
“Looks like.”
I frowned. “But I thought she’d thrown the tiramisu at him. I thought it was all over her front yard. In fact, I saw that this morning. Surely she didn’t go out and pick some up for a late night snack. Eeow!”
“Carlo brought over two pans of tiramisu. One she threw. One didn’t get thrown and it looks like it got devoured. There was plenty of poison to do her in.”
A dark cloud was hanging over my heart. This looked bad for Carlo. He’d admitted to bringing over the tiramisu and I’d seen Marguerite throw one pan of them at him. Where and when and how had the poison been added? If it was in the cooking and preparation, what I was going to have to do was find out if someone else helped Carlo with that. Somehow I had to introduce someone else to the spotlight.
“I’m not going to say it’s a slam dunk,” Roy noted generously. “Let’s just say all signs point to your favorite chef at the moment. Who knows? You may come up with a miracle. But that doesn’t happen very often, so I don’t think you should count on it.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re not even looking for anyone else. Is that it?”
From his sigh, I knew he felt as though I’d attacked his professionalism.
“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he said carefully.
“Oh come on. It’s only common sense. If you think you have the guilty party, why waste time on others?” I was fuming by now, but trying to keep it under control. “There are other possibilities, you know.”
“There always are.”
I mulled that over for a moment, trying to think of some. “Did you check the security tapes for the compound area?”
“We checked the security tapes. Nigel does not appear in them at all.”
“What?” That was impossible. How could he have avoided being taped? But one memory still haunted me. When Billy Joe arrived that night, his headlights signaled his arrival. With Nigel there were no headlights. He just seemed to appear out of the darkness. How did that happen?
But for him not to show up on the security tapes! That was crazy and I said so.
“That’s just crazy.”
“No, I said, …”
“I heard what you said. But…but… Listen, I happen to know he was there, and right around the applicable time. How can he not be on the tapes?”
His voice took on a suspicious edge. “Who told you he was there?”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
“Never mind,” I said quickly. “I have my sources too.”
He laughed shortly. “Well, that’s one source you can strike off your list. Not reliable. Nigel was nowhere near Destiny Bay last night. Give it up.”
I was getting more and more annoyed with Roy and his attitude. Why hadn’t I noticed before how arrogant he could be?
“Well, I have to go,” I said. I badly needed a time out from this conversation.
“Why?” he said.
I cast about for a reason, and low and behold, one presented itself to me. Someone was scratching on the glass of the back door. I looked over and there was Jeremy, Nigel’s son, standing in the wan light from the back step. He gave me a sheepish look through the glass and a shrug that denoted humility.
I was in the mood for some humility from somebody. His was as good as any.
/> “Someone’s here,” I said quickly to Roy. “I’ll talk to you later.” And I hung up.
“You!” I said, yanking the door open. “You thief! You pickpocket!”
“Shhh.” He put his finger to his lips and spoke softly. “Is your aunt here? I really need to talk to you privately. Can you come on out here?”
I hesitated. She wasn’t here, but he didn’t need to know that. And I had to consider this carefully. A man who had already done me harm was asking me to go out in the darkening garden, away from anyone who could help me should he attack. Why he would attack me was a question I didn’t have answers to yet, but he’d already proven himself unreliable. Still, when you came right down to it, the man had a very sweet look, and I was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt just about any time at all. Especially when he was acting so apologetic.
See how dangerous good looks can be? Argh. But I nodded and went out, closing the kitchen door behind me. We began to stroll casually around the yard.
“I can’t believe you have the gall to come over here like this after you stole that thing right off my person.” I winced a bit, regretting that I’d brought up the intimate steps he must have taken to snatch the item right out of my bra—and without me even noticing. But I didn’t want to get bogged down in particulars. I wanted to see that wallet and what was in it. And by now I’d noticed he seemed to have it in his hand. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
I stared at it as we walked deeper into the back yard. “Is…is that it?” I said.
He nodded. “This is it. I’m really sorry I was such a jerk about it. It wasn’t right of me to steal it from you, I know. But…” He looked at me with his sort of big-eyed, woebegone look that made you want to say, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.” And I couldn’t let myself fall for that one.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded.
He began to get a bit more defensive. “Well, it wasn’t yours to begin with.”
“No, but it wasn’t yours either. And I found it.”
“Yes, I know.” He looked contrite again. “But still, I was pretty sure it was Sandy’s. And I just had to see what was in it.”
Murder and the Secret Spring Page 9
