Lighthouse Library Mystery 08 - Deadly Ever After

by Eva Gates

  Down came the glasses. “Leon? I hope you’re not about to accuse Leon of killing my husband. Leon and I were close years ago when he spent much of his time in Boston. We were very close. Do you understand what I mean by that, Lucy?”

  “Yes.” From deep inside my pocket, the timer on my phone rang. Time to check in with Louise Jane and let her know I was still alive. I didn’t like the interruption, but I didn’t want Connor and half the Nags Head Police out looking for me either.

  “Sorry. I have to take this.” I sent Louise Jane a text: All okay here.

  This is weird.

  I set the timer for another half an hour and turned my attention back to Evangeline.

  “The matter is closed,” she said. “Leon and I have not had personal contact for a long time, and before you ask, we did not get together when I was visiting the Outer Banks on that other matter. When he heard via mutual friends I was in Nags Head following the sudden death of my husband, he wanted to be of support to me, as old friends do. Once again, this is none of your business, but you are being very persistent. If I had wanted to leave Rich and marry Leon, I would have done so long ago. Leon is more than comfortable financially, and he’s never been married.”

  “Careful there!”

  Evangeline and I looked up as Leon yelled at a child running across the pool deck. Leon did a series of stumbling steps and almost dropped the two glasses he was carrying. The child cannonballed into the pool with a shout of triumph and a spray of water, and Leon kept his footing and his grip on the drinks. The flash of irritation on his face was replaced by a look of sheer joy when he realized we were watching. I should say when he realized Evangeline was watching. I highly doubt I had anything at all to do with his reaction. The bit of hair he had left on the top of his head fluttered in the wind, and his round face turned red with pleasure.

  That round face. The thinning hair. The average height and the big round belly.

  I sucked in a breath. “Leon’s Ricky’s father.”

  “Perhaps you’re more observant than I’ve given you credit for,” Evangeline said. “I trust you’ll keep that to yourself.”

  “Does Ricky know?”

  “No. He does not, and he will not. Do you understand me, Lucille?”

  “He won’t hear it from me. The resemblance isn’t that strong. It was the way Leon looked when that kid almost tripped him. And the hair. Or lack thereof.”

  “Oh yes, the hair. Rich was always so proud of his thick hair. Fortunately, my father went bald early in life. Rich had no reason to ever wonder.”

  “Does Leon know?”

  “We’ve never discussed it. He might suspect, but he doesn’t know anything.” She patted the table next to her and gave the man under discussion a huge smile. “Thank you, Leon. You’re always such a dear.”

  He basked in the praise.

  “So, Leon,” I said. “What were you doing Monday night around nine?”

  “Lucy!” Evangeline said.

  Leon chuckled. “Oh yes. Your mother told us you like to play girl detective.” He sat down and stretched out his legs. “Let me think. What was I doing? Oh yes. I was at my aunt’s house for her eighty-fifth birthday party. She never married and never had children, and she and I are close. I arrived at six to help with the setup. The last of the guests left at eleven, and I waved them good-bye. I spent the night at Aunt Joan’s and came home the following morning after a late breakfast. Before you ask, my aunt lives in Elizabeth City, so I did not slip out between serving rounds of cake and canapés and drive to Nags Head to kill a man I’d never met.”

  “Just asking.”

  “The police asked the same. I’ve since had calls from Aunt Joan and my brother asking why I need an alibi.”

  “Satisfied, Lucy?” Evangeline asked.

  “Yes. Thank you. But I am wondering about one more thing …”

  She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Go ahead.”

  “You and Gordon Frankland recognized each other at Jake’s on Monday night. It was obvious you didn’t care for the man. How do you know him?”

  “Odious man,” Evangeline said. “I told the police they should be concentrating on him as the killer of my husband, but they were not interested in my suggestions. He was a client of Rich. He came around to the house one weekend, barged in uninvited and unwelcome, demanding to speak to Rich. I told him Rich did not conduct business at home. He was very rude, and so persistent Rich finally emerged from his study, and I went back to the garden. Mr. Frankland did not stay long, and I did not care enough to ask what he wanted. Now, I ask you again, are you satisfied, Lucy? This is all getting quite tedious.”

  I stood up. “Thank you.”

  “I will not be returning to Nags Head. Have a nice life.” She picked up her book and started to read.

  “ ’Bye,” Leon said.

  I walked away, my tail tucked between my legs, but I didn’t go back to my car. I reminded myself that sometimes people need to be eliminated as suspects before one can concentrate on finding the guilty party.

  Rather than waiting for the elevator, I ran lightly up the stairs. I approached room 220. I lifted my hand to knock. Then I dropped it. Was I really going to accuse Ricky of killing the man he’d always believed was his own father?

  I walked away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was in line at Josie’s Cozy Bakery when the timer on my phone trilled once again. Once again I texted Louise Jane. Once again she replied, This is so weird. Once again I set the timer for another half hour. I ordered a latte and ham and Swiss on a baguette and found a table. All around me espresso machines hissed and people chatted and laughed and placed orders. I unwrapped my sandwich and bit into it. As long as I was on my lunch break, I might as well have lunch.

  “What brings you here this early, sweetie?” I looked up to see my cousin standing over me.

  I chewed and swallowed. “Having an early lunch. Do you have time to sit?”

  Josie dropped into a chair. She waved to Alison behind the counter. “Bring me an Americano, will you, please.” She pulled off her hairnet, untied her ponytail, combed her long blonde hair with her fingers, and retied it with a quick twist of her wrist. “I’m under orders not to leave the bakery unless I’m under guard.”

  “Jake told you what happened?”

  “Yes, he did. You were lured out of the library, and my name was used to do so. We’re all worried about you, and Jake is worried about me too. Why are you unguarded?”

  “Because I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving the library except Louise Jane, and I’m checking in with her regularly. Besides, what can happen in the middle of the day in the middle of town?” I swept my arms around me to take in the busy bakery and the crowded streets outside.

  “That’s what I said to Jake. He said he doesn’t want to find out what can happen.”

  “Fair enough. Thing is, Josie, I have no intention of living that way, so I’ve stepped up my so-called investigating. I’m determined to get to the bottom of this. The best way to do that, I’ve decided, is to eliminate suspects one by one and see who I end up with.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Not well,” I admitted. “I’m eliminating suspects and being left with no one.” I took another bite of my sandwich. “This is good.”

  “Did you doubt it would be?” Josie said.

  I grinned. “Nope.”

  “Here you go.” Blair put a mug in front of Josie. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No thanks.”

  He left, and I leaned forward and kept my voice down. Josie leaned toward me. “Neither Evangeline nor Ricky has an alibi, but no matter how much I try to imagine it, I simply can’t believe either one of them killed Rich. If Evangeline wanted to kill him, as his wife she’d have had plenty of better opportunities to make it look like an accident or a random act. And Ricky …” I shook my head. “Not the Ricky I know. Frankly, he’s just too laid-back to do anything that drastic and dramatic.
Ricky prefers to wait for things to fall into his lap. Which they usually do. Eventually.”

  “You never know what people will do when they’re desperate.”

  “That’s true. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. And, if I may be so immodest, I don’t believe Ricky would have deliberately tried to frighten me as happened last night. I sense he still has a certain fondness for me.”

  “More than that, sweetie.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “He looks at you, when you’re not looking, as though a hole has opened up in his life and you’re the only thing that can fill it.”

  “Nonsense. You’re imagining that. Heavens, the man asked Grace out. Anyway, back to the subject at hand—the only person left on my list as a viable suspect is Gordon Frankland, and I can’t go around and start questioning him. If he thinks I’m accusing him, he’ll sue me. I don’t mind that so much, but Connor wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Gordon Frankland wouldn’t have killed anyone, Lucy. He gets his jollies out of suing people. He craves the attention. He comes in here sometimes, and I absolutely dread the very sight of him. I’m terrified one of my staff is going to spill a hot drink on him or he’s going to slip on something, have a fall, and sue me. Every business owner in town’s the same, and that’s the way he likes it. We live in fear of him, but we don’t fear he’s going to kill us. Killing takes place in the shadows. Gordon Frankland lives in the limelight. A rather putrid limelight, but not the shadows.”

  “That’s a good point, Josie.”

  “Plus, it’s not his style to make anonymous threats. If he did kill that man and he thought you were getting close, he’d think of some reason to sue you so as to occupy all your attention. You might think you’ve done nothing he can sue you over, but believe me, if he put his mind to it, he’d come up with something.”

  “That might have already happened.” I told Josie about the Charles-versus-Frankland incident at the library yesterday.

  “That’ll do it,” she said.

  I mentally called up my list and drew a line through Gordon Frankland’s name. “If I dismiss him as a suspect, then the way I see it, Rich’s death must have something to do with inheritances. Rich was losing money, and fast. The killer needed to stop that. Yes, killing for the inheritance appears to suggest it had to have been Evangeline or Ricky. I assume Evangeline will inherit everything, but maybe not. At book club the other night, Butch said something about previously unknown relatives coming out of the woodwork at will-reading time. Not only unknown relatives but former lovers, maybe even … uh … illegitimate children. If there are any. Even a shelter for homeless cats.”

  “Charles would be in favor of the latter.”

  “More than once I’ve thought Charles would be a good murder suspect. If he could drive a getaway vehicle and wield a weapon. I’d like to get a look at Rich’s will. Dad probably can, but it’s unlikely to the point of inconceivable that he’ll share the information with me. Before the reading, anyway.”

  “Can a married man disinherit his wife?”

  “In Massachusetts, not completely, no. A spouse has some rights. He or she can seek to void such a will and take an appropriate share of the estate for themselves. ‘Appropriate share’ is open to legal debate. If Rich did try to cut out Evangeline, and if she knew about it, she would have had no reason to kill her husband.” I thought about Rich’s illegitimate child. Who was, it would seem, not James Dalrymple. Might this child—now an adult—have realized that Rich was running through his money fast and decided to put a stop to it? This person was a native of the Outer Banks. It might therefore be someone who knew of my past involvement in police cases and knew I lived and worked at the library. They might even know my phone number. That was not a comforting thought.

  I folded up the remaining half sandwich and stuffed it into my bag to finish later. “Gotta run. Thanks.”

  “Your phone’s beeping.”

  Once again I pulled it out. Not the timer this time, but a text from Louise Jane: How much longer are you going to be? I have yoga class at noon.

  Louise Jane took yoga?

  I replied: At Josie’s. Leaving now.

  I stood up, and Josie did also. She reached for me, and we hugged each other tightly. “You take care,” she said to me.

  “You too,” I replied.

  “If anything at all odd happens, don’t be afraid to call for help.”

  “I won’t. That goes for you too.”

  I got in my car and headed back to the lighthouse, keeping my attention on my surroundings all the way. Not my full attention, though—I called Sam Watson as I drove. “Hi,” I said when he answered. “It’s Lucy. I’m calling to see if you figured anything out about what happened last night.”

  “I’m sorry to say, no. The intruder didn’t leave any prints on the paper or the nail or drop whatever they used to hammer the nail in. It hasn’t rained for a few days, so the ground around the lighthouse and in the parking area is dry—no usable footprints or tire tracks. I’m sorry, Lucy, but I want you to know I won’t be letting this go. I don’t like it, don’t like it at all.”

  I felt a nice warm ball in my tummy and spoke around a lump in my throat. “While I have you on the line … I had a chat with Evangeline this morning. She told me something shocking. It shocked me, anyway. Rich Lewiston had a child out of wedlock, and that child, now grown up, lives near here.”

  “I know. She finally admitted to me that she’s been visiting Nags Head over the years to keep an eye on her husband and the child’s mother, as well as the child itself.”

  “Do you know who this child is?”

  “I do.”

  “And—”

  “And I’m not going to tell you or anyone else their identity, Lucy.”

  “I don’t want to know. I’m wondering if you thought to check that person’s whereabouts on Monday night.”

  “I paid a call on the mother of the person in question. She was not, understandably, happy to know that I know her secret, but she assured me the child is not aware of his or her parentage and has never expressed any interest whatsoever in Rich Lewiston, his family, or his whereabouts. I’ve left it at that, and I expect you to do the same.”

  “That doesn’t mean they don’t know. Maybe—”

  “Lucy, I said I expect you to do the same.”

  “Okay. Have you seen Rich’s will?”

  “Lucy! You’ve been warned to stay out of it. I’m adding my voice to that. Stay out of it.”

  “But—”

  Detective Watson hung up.

  * * *

  The library was hopping when I got back. “Thank you so much, Louise Jane,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Anytime, Lucy. Did you call Connor?”

  “No. Why should I?”

  “About the house.”

  “Oh, the house. Right. I’ll let you know what he says. Anything happen while I was out?”

  “Nothing memorable. We’ve been busy. You really do need more help around here.” Louise Jane got up from behind the desk and smiled at me.

  “Thanks again,” I said. “What brings you here today, anyway? Don’t you work at the beach supply store on Saturdays?”

  “I quit.”

  “You quit?”

  “Working at Uncle Dennis’s branch of Beach Blanket Disco Mart isn’t a job I want to do, but I’ve been helping him out when he needs it. I’ve found something else, so he’ll have to manage without me.”

  “You mean you got a new job? Where?”

  She smirked. “You’ll find out. ’Bye, Lucy.”

  I watched her leave, a decided swing to her step, but I didn’t have time to wonder what she’d meant, as a young man came to ask for my help filling in job applications on the computer.

  * * *

  The final children’s program of the day ended at four thirty, and Ronald came downstairs to wave off his excited little charges, who were clutching their homemade scrapbooks and tellin
g their parents to be on the lookout for wildlife.

  “Good day?” I asked him.

  Ronald rubbed his curly gray hair. Today’s tie featured the Simpsons.

  “A very good day. I’m looking forward to seeing what wildlife sightings they record in their books over the week. I’m expecting lots of dogs, outdoor cats, and squirrels.”

  “Would you mind watching the desk for a few minutes?” I asked Ronald. “I need to talk to Charlene.”

  “Happy to,” he said.

  I’d been ordered off the Lewiston case by Sam Watson. I might be able to ignore the threat from anonymous, but I couldn’t ignore Watson. I had to think about something, and at slow times during the day I’d tried not to think about who might have killed my father’s law partner. Instead I’d found myself thinking about Charlene and her English visitors. As long as I was sticking my nose into other people’s secret relationships, I might as well keep at it. I climbed the stairs to the third floor. Charlene’s office door was open, and I knocked lightly.

  She turned to me with a smile, which I was pleased to see. “Hi, Lucy.” She took the earbuds out of her ears, and the pounding beat flowed around me. She pushed a button on her phone to stop it. “I want to apologize for snapping at you the other day.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “I’m sorry. Truly sorry. All I can say in my defense is I’ve had a lot on my mind.” She smiled again. She looked different somehow, I thought. She looked like a woman in love.

  And I was here to burst her balloon. I took a deep breath and spoke quickly before my nerve failed me and I fled. “I know something’s been going on with you, Charlene, and I’m hoping we can talk frankly. As friends. We are friends, right?”

  “Yes, we are. You’re right that something’s been going on. Bertie’s going to tell you and Ronald on Monday, but as long as you’re here—”

  “Bertie? What’s this got to do with Bertie?”

  “It’s got everything to do with Bertie. With you and Ronald too. I quit.”

  “You what?”

  “I quit. I’m leaving the Lighthouse Library at the end of the month.”