“Yes, dear. Also, there are two large boxes of coats we collected at the Fall Fling that need to be taken to Sandra at the thrift shop. Would you mind having them deliver those also? They are in the second room on the right at the top of the stairs.” Hearing her own words made Estelle stop and think again about the sight of her helpless mother sprawled out on the floor at the bottom of the staircase. She shivered, stroking Clover to comfort them both.
Estelle looked back at Trey. “You know, Russell and I met at the Fall Fling. I was collecting coats for the Women’s Shelter. Along came this handsome man with the most beautiful blue wool jacket.”
“I gave him that jacket for his birthday,” Deena said, standing in the doorway.
“Oh, please come in.” As Estelle stood up to greet her, Clover leaped off her lap and onto the coffee table.
Deena hugged Estelle and stepped back. “I’m a-ller-gic!” The final syllable came out as a sneeze. “To cats,” she added.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” Estelle reached over to pick up Clover. “What’s this?” She lifted up the cat to examine her belly.
Trey leaned closer. A few dark red spots dotted her white fur. “Looks like dried blood.”
Estelle sighed. “What have you gotten yourself into now?” She picked up her mother’s silver dinner bell from the table. After several loud shakes, Irene rushed in looking harried. “Would you please take Clover and see that she is cleaned up?”
Irene stomped out carrying the cat at arm’s length.
“Now, let’s get down to business,” Estelle said. “Thank you for coming over, Deena.”
“I have about an hour before I have to get back to the newspaper. I’m finishing up a piece on the County Commissioner’s court.”
Estelle looked straight at Deena. “I need your help. You have investigative experience. I believe my mother was murdered.” She hurried before Deena could interrupt. “Trey said there is going to be a full autopsy performed. I want them to check for poisons and any other evidence of foul play.”
Trey watched Deena’s reaction and could see the look of surprise on her face. He wanted to assuage Estelle’s suspicions. “Obviously, they will check for everything, but it seems clear that—”
“It doesn’t seem clear to me,” Estelle said. “I’m telling you, someone pushed Mother down those stairs.”
Trey looked at his watch. “I really need to get back to the office. Why don’t you all discuss this and call to fill me in later. For now, though, I would hold off speaking to anyone directly about this. Let’s just wait for the medical examiner’s report.” He walked over and patted his aunt on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.” As he walked out, he nodded toward the door so that Deena would follow.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said.
When he and Deena were on the front porch, Trey confided his concern. “I don’t like where this is going,” he said. “You know what’s going to happen if she starts crying ‘murder.’ She’s going to have everyone—including your newspaper—looking at her as the prime suspect.”
Deena shivered against the cold. “Why? Estelle would never have hurt her mother.”
“I agree. But you know what detectives always look for: means, opportunity, and motive. Some people might argue that Estelle had all three.”
“That’s crazy. What would be her motive?”
“Money, of course. You never know what goes on behind closed doors. Who knows what Aunt Carolyn’s will has in it.”
Deena’s teeth chattered. “But she’s going to want me to help her. What should I do?”
“Listen to her theories. Do some snooping around, but make sure it is all hush-hush. Stall. Maybe the medical examiner’s report will bring her back to her senses.”
Deena nodded in agreement.
Trey zipped his jacket. “Now get back inside before you freeze to death. We don’t want to have another dead body in this house.”
*
A commotion in the parlor caught Deena off guard. What disaster could have befallen in the short time she’d been out of the house?
Jacques, the head chef from the catering company, Wendy, and Irene were all speaking at once. It was a scene straight out of a reality TV show. Finally, Russell put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly, causing everyone to stop and stare. “What’s the problem?”
Wendy, hands on hips, looked to be at her wits’ end. “Chef Jacques claims one of the carving knives he used last evening is missing. He thinks it was stolen and wants to file a police report. I’m trying to assure him that it was probably just misplaced.”
Irene butted in. “I told him that it will take me a week just to put the kitchen back to the way it was before he and his staff invaded. I said I would let him know the minute it turns up.”
“But what you have not explained is the value of that knife,” Chef Jacques said. “It’s a Katzenbach carving knife worth nearly three-hundred dollars. This is a fine instrument. I used it to cut the prime rib. Did you see even one jagged edge on that meat? Did you see the uniformity of every slice?”
“Did you see how many of Mrs. Fitzhugh’s dishes you used?” Irene asked in her snarkiest tone.
That’s all it took for the arguing to resume. Russell motioned to Wendy. “Would you please ask the staff if they saw anyone in the kitchen last night who shouldn’t have been there? That’s probably what the police would do, if anything. Tell Chef Boy-ar-dee that you are investigating and will get back to him. That should buy a little time until it turns up. If he won’t agree to that, just tell Estelle and she can buy him another one of his over-priced cleavers.” Before letting her go, he added, “Also, can you see if someone can scrounge me up a beer?”
Wendy quickly moved the discussion into the hall and shut the doors behind her.
“Way to go, bro.” Deena smiled at Russell as he sat back down on the chair. She contemplated trying to talk to him alone to tell him the warning she had received from Trey, but she was anxious to find out what Estelle wanted her to do. Things were heating up, along with her curiosity. Her nose still tickled from cat fur, so she looked in her purse for a clean tissue, coming up empty. She didn’t dare ask for one, knowing Estelle would just ring that annoying bell again.
“I want to tell you both why I believe Mother’s death was not an accident.” She pulled on the edges of a delicate, crocheted handkerchief in her lap. “Mother and I had a routine—a system. Her bedroom suite is on one side of the hall, mine and two other rooms are on the opposite side. There is a back stairway next to the kitchen by the maid’s room. It has a motorized lift to the second floor. I can show it to you later after the kitchen clears out. Mother would always get out of her downstairs wheelchair in the kitchen, ride up the stairs, and then get in her upstairs wheelchair. She couldn’t possibly use the front staircase. In fact, it always made her nervous to get too close.”
“Are you saying that your mother was able to stand up by herself?” Deena noticed a few threads of the hankie lying loose in Estelle’s lap. She was obviously a bundle of nerves.
“Yes. She had use of her legs, but she was weak and could only manage a few steps. That’s why she always, always made sure someone was with her when she sat on the electric stair chair. One time it got stuck when she was home alone, and she had to sit there for over an hour. You can imagine how upset she was.”
Deena nodded, having seen the prickly side of Carolyn Fitzhugh the first time they met. She could picture the old woman spitting cactus needles by the time she was rescued. Wendy knocked on the door and slipped in with a beer for Russell and hot tea for the ladies.
“Thanks,” Russell said, giving Wendy an appreciative smile.
Estelle ignored the tea as the pile of threads in her lap continued to grow. “As I said before, Mother’s routine was to ring a bell when she was ready to go on the stairs.”
Deena and Russell both looked down at the bell on the coffee table.
Estelle obviously knew what they were think
ing. “Not that bell. Mother had loads of them all over the house. She always kept a few in her chair, too. When she would ring one, either Irene or I would help her. Since Irene was working with the staff last night, she was supposed to ring for me when she was ready to go back downstairs for the champagne toast. I had finished…um… powdering my nose and waited for the bell. After a few minutes, I went out into the hall, but Mother wasn’t there. I checked her room and then went down to the kitchen to see if she had gone on without me. Irene said she hadn’t.”
Tears began trickling down Estelle’s cheeks, and she pulled harder on what little fabric was left in her hands. Clearly, she was reliving the scene from the previous night. Deena looked over at Russell and gave him a pointed look. He set down the half-empty bottle and went to sit by Estelle, putting his arm across her shoulders.
“That’s when I hurried back up the kitchen stairs. Something made me walk to the end of the hallway to look down from the top of the staircase.” She turned and buried her face in Russell’s neck.
She seemed to be unraveling just like the handkerchief in her lap. Deena could see that Estelle’s sobbing triggered Russell’s protective instinct. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort.
The scene brought tears to Deena’s eyes as well. She had hoped and prayed that her brother would one day find someone to love and grow old with. It looked like he finally had. That warm feeling she always got when finishing a romance novel washed over her. She was ready to declare that they would live happily ever after when another sneeze exploded from her mouth and startled everyone back to reality.
“Well,” Deena said, reaching for a napkin off the tea tray. “It sounds like we have some work to do. I think we need to start investigating, but we had better keep it quiet. We’ll have a better chance of catching the culprit if he—or she—doesn’t know we are suspicious.”
Estelle nodded in agreement.
Thank goodness, Deena thought. “You realize that the only mystery I have ever tried to solve was the death of my uncle, right?” As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted saying them. After what Trey said, the last thing she wanted was for Estelle to hire a private investigator or go to the sheriff.
“I know. I just feel like I can trust you—and Russell. Besides Trey, you are the closest to family I have right now.”
Deena looked at Russell to gauge his reaction. He had a sick look on his face. She wasn’t sure if he was thinking about Carolyn or the knot Estelle seemed to be tying around his ring finger. It was time to put on her super-sleuth façade. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm your mother? Did she have any enemies?”
Estelle stood up. The pile of loose threads fell to the floor. “Oh dear,” she said, staring down at them. “I hate to say it, but there were a few people who didn’t like her. Penelope Burrows, for one.” She walked over to the parlor doors and peeked out. She closed them again and sat in the chair next to Deena. “You see, Mother and Edwin Burrows were once engaged. Penelope did everything she could think of to split them up. It finally worked when my father came along. Still, Penelope was always jealous of Mother. When Father died, Edwin started visiting here often. Mother let it go on a while just to irritate Penelope.”
“That’s the couple who were at our table last night,” Deena said. “Penelope seemed sloshed to me. I never saw her leave the table, but I lost sight of her when I got up to use the ladies’ room. That was right before…” She let her words trail off rather than state the obvious.
“Who else might have had a grudge against her?” Russell asked as he leaned down and picked up the pile of loose threads.
“Ronald Gilbert. He owns the property next to us. About thirty acres. He bought it from my father years ago. What he didn’t realize was that my father kept the mineral rights to the property. Apparently, there’s a fortune in oil under all this land. Father didn’t want oil rigs in the backyard, so he refused to drill.” Estelle’s eyes twinkled a bit as she talked about her father’s cunning business sense. “Mr. Gilbert tried to buy the rights many times over the years, but Father refused to sell. He said he had plenty of money from his other land holdings and didn’t want to spoil the natural beauty around here. After he died, Mother refused to sell them as well.”
Russell stood up to stretch his legs and walked over to the large window and pushed back the heavy brocade drapes. Looking out at the landscape, he asked, “Why would that give him a reason to murder your mother?”
“Maybe he thought I would sell the house and move if she were gone. Maybe he thought I would just sell him the mineral rights.” Estelle looked at Deena. “I don’t know what his intentions might have been, but I do know he despised my family. You can just sense these things, you know?”
Deena shook her head. “I understand. I definitely think that puts him on the list of suspects. Was he at the party?”
“Yes, of course. You know, that’s how we do things in the South. We smile to your face, but talk about you behind your back. We always kept a pretense of hospitality with the Gilberts, bless their hearts.”
Deena pulled a small spiral from her purse to write down a few notes. “Russell, make sure you get that list of names from Wendy. We need to know who might have been snooping around last night.”
He shook his head his head in agreement.
Trey had asked her to stall Estelle so she wouldn’t take her suspicions to the authorities. But Deena was beginning to wonder if Estelle might be on to something. That left her stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Chapter Four
Except for a few houses, Butterfly Gardens, Deena and Gary’s subdivision, was in full holiday decoration mode. Those residents who refused to participate cited reasons of religion, resources, or just plain rancor. Deena loved holiday decor but didn’t go overboard like some of her neighbors. People in the suburbs were notoriously competitive. Whether it was whose child had the most goals at the youth soccer game or who could be first to bring food to the new neighbors, there seemed to be an invisible scorecard, and she and Gary were always somewhere near the bottom.
When she got home from the newspaper office, she had a booming headache and a runny nose. “Remind me to take an antihistamine the next time I go to Estelle’s,” she told Gary as he walked in the door from work. She sat at the kitchen table addressing Christmas cards.
“And hello to you, too.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “What’s up?”
“Hold on to your hat. This is big.” She waited as he pulled off his tie and sat down at the table. “Estelle thinks her mother was murdered.” She watched for his reaction.
“I’m not surprised.”
“You’re kidding! Why would you think that?”
Gary got up and walked toward the bedroom. “Because, who falls down their own stairs in the middle of a party with a house full of people? It’s a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”
Deena sat on the edge of the bed while Gary changed into jeans and a t-shirt. “Well, I guess. But to think she was murdered seems harder to believe.” Deena was stunned at Gary’s reaction. He was not the dramatic kind. “So who do you think is the likely culprit?”
“Estelle.” He walked past her to the kitchen.
“Estelle?” Gary’s lackadaisical attitude was beginning to annoy her. “How can you say something like that and be so calm? And what are you doing?”
“Making sandwiches for dinner. Want one?”
“Sure.” She plopped down at the table. “Trey told me privately to keep Estelle from talking about murder in public because it might make her end up looking guilty.”
“That makes sense.” Gary spread mustard on one side of the bread and mayonnaise on the other, using a different knife for each. It was no wonder he became an accountant. He was meticulous about everything he did. “She probably got tired of waiting for her mother to kick so she could start her own life. Russell may have had something to do with t
hat.”
“What? You think Russell was—”
“No, I mean, being with him may have made her more anxious to get out from under her mother’s control. And don’t forget about the money she stands to inherit.” He brought the turkey and Swiss cheese sandwiches to the table. “I’m having a beer. What would you like?”
“I would like you to sit down and talk to me about this whole thing,” she said, glaring at him.
“Wine, it is.” He poured her a glass and joined her at the table. “This is the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers.”
She took a sip from her glass. “Let’s assume Estelle had a motive, opportunity, and…and…what’s the third thing?”
“Means,” Gary said with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Right, means. Why would she bring up murder in the first place? Why would she ask me to help her with the investigation?”
Gary choked on his sandwich and took a swig of beer to wash it down. “So now you are involved, too? You realize you are an ex-journalism teacher turned reporter, not private investigator.”
Picking up her sandwich, Deena’s tone turned sentimental. “You should have seen Russell and Estelle together. They were so cute. She called us ‘family.’ How could I say no?” The wine warmed her insides.
Gary didn’t even try to argue. “What investigating do you plan to do?”
“Apparently, Penelope Burrows is Carolyn’s longtime enemy. You remember her from the party, right?”
“Oh, yes. I can still feel the bruise where she squeezed my thigh most of the night.”
“She and the ladies from the Bluebonnet Club are decorating the library for the holidays as one of their service projects tomorrow. I’m going to volunteer to help. Penelope will be there, so hopefully I can get some information from her.”
“Don’t you have to work at the paper tomorrow?”
“Lloyd said I could take some time off. I told him I had some personal business to take care of.” She ate a few bites of her sandwich and thought about the conversation at Estelle’s house. Then she told Gary about the argument over the missing knife.
Sharpe Edge (Cozy Suburbs Mystery Series) Page 4
