by Sara Rosett
“What?”
I told him what had happened then said, “So right now, I’m waiting for the officer to come back. I hope, I really hope, that Bridgette backs up what I said. Oh, wait, here he comes. I’ll call you back.” I slipped the phone into my pocket.
“You can leave as long as you’re returning to Nether Woodsmoor. We’ll be in touch, Ms. Sharp. We may need to follow up with you.”
So Bridgette had come through for me. The officer disappeared back into the kitchen, before I could ask any more questions. I didn’t linger. I slipped out the front door, and avoided looking Carrie’s way. She was turned slightly away from me, and I scooted across the brick paved area, skirting around two officers who were talking to Bridgette.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Bridgette said. “My sister gave me a key. She didn’t mind if I dropped by. Here, look at my keys. That one is Harriet’s. She gave it to me.”
I wasn’t sure about that statement about dropping in. It sounded as if the relationship between Harriet and Bridgette was complex and possibly strained, but the two officers exchanged a relenting look.
I slipped into the car and locked the doors before I called Alex.
“Kate?” he asked, his voice strained. “Are you—”
“I’m free to go,” I said quickly.
“Good. Okay. That’s good.” He breathed deeply, then said, “Listen, let’s have a few rules in this relationship. Never request to be bailed out then hang up. It’s not good for my heart.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tick off the policeman by talking on my phone while he was waiting.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to him again tonight,” Alex.
“Why? What happened?”
“I went back to the Royal Palms Resort bar and met the woman who is calling herself Harriet Hayden.”
“The woman who is calling herself Harriet?” I repeated slowly. “You mean she isn’t Harriet?”
“No. It took quite a few drinks to get the whole story, but she’s definitely not Harriet.”
I didn’t love the idea of Alex plying another woman with drinks under a tropical night sky, but I pushed that thought aside for now. “But how can you be sure?”
“I saw her passport. Her real one, as well as the fake.”
“She had two passports? You’d better start at the beginning.”
“Right. Well, she certainly resembles Harriet, and she has a passport in Harriet’s name. But she also has what she said was her own passport with the name of Nina Boydett. She’s an actress. I looked her up online, and she has several stage credits and a few commercials. A few months ago, she got an email offering her a part, the part of Harriet vacationing in the islands. It was pitched as an elaborate reality show. She made it through ‘the final cut’ for the show. Then she received a package in the mail with the passport and credit cards in Harriet’s name as well as instructions on what days to travel and information on her reservation at the Royal Palm Resort. Nina was convinced that hidden cameras were filming her and other guests at the resort.”
“So who hired her?” I asked as I watched one of the officers wave Bridgette into the house. She and Carrie exchanged a long look as Bridgette walked into Harriet’s house.
“Nina doesn’t know. She has never spoken to a person about this. It was all handled through email. She was told that it was all very hush-hush. That it had to be that way to maintain the integrity of the filming.”
“Alex, this isn’t good. Harriet may have never left England after all.”
Chapter 7
THE NEXT MORNING, AS I returned from walking Slink, I saw a police car parked in the village in front of the pub. Slink slurped water, then collapsed contentedly on her cushion while I found my gloves in the little storage space under the stairs. The day was even colder than yesterday, and a few snowflakes were drifting down from a dense layer of gray clouds. I had spent a restless night, thinking about poor Harriet. How awful to be missing for months and not have anyone notice, except a grocery store clerk. Of course, it seemed Harriet led a fairly isolated life, retreating into her writing and emerging occasionally to interact with fans and friends. But still, it was extremely sad.
By the time I reached the White Duck, the police car was gone. I half hoped there was some news, but I also dreaded what I might hear. I knocked on the door. Even though it was early, I knew Louise would be in, preparing for the day. She wasn’t closing for the holidays until tomorrow, Christmas Eve.
She peered out through the diamond panes of glass and relief flooded her face when she saw me. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear and tucked it up next to her shoulder as she unlocked the door and let me in. She was speaking and waved me inside, then locked the door behind me. “Right. Yes, I know it’s Christmas,” she said sharply, and I gave her a long look. Her face was pale and her hand gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles showed white. “I wouldn’t call if I didn’t need him. I understand it’s not his area. Just have him call me please. Today. This morning.”
She punched a button to end the call and rubbed her hand over her forehead. “Solicitors. Be careful what you wish for, Kate,” she said in a weary voice. “I should know that by now, but I never seem to remember things like that until it’s too late.”
“What happened? Is it Gina?” I asked.
“No. There’s been no change in her condition. I checked this morning, first thing.” Louise pulled a chair out and collapsed into it. “We wanted the police to look into Harriet, take her possible disappearance seriously. They certainly are now.”
“So Alex must have gotten through to the right people,” I said. After I’d talked to Alex yesterday, I’d spent quite a while trying to convince the police at Harriet’s house that they needed to talk to him. He had already spoken to the police on the island, but they were reluctant to get involved until requested to do so by the U.K. authorities.
“I’ll say. They’ve searched Harriet’s house. No sign of her…or of a struggle or anything like that.”
“Yeah, when I was there, everything was neat and exact,” I said, thinking of the cleared desktop and the spotless kitchen.
“But they’ve found her will, the inspector informed me this morning. The case has been bumped up to an inspector,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And not that nice young man who investigated those last incidents. This is an older man with very cold, accusing eyes.”
“Surely, he’s not looking at you as a suspect?”
“But he is. It was quite plain.”
“Why? You have no reason to hurt Harriet.”
“It’s because of her will. He said there was a copy of it in her files. Gina is to receive three-hundred-thousand pounds.”
I blinked. “That’s quite a bit of money.” With the current exchange rate, that was nearly half a million dollars. “Wow. I had no idea Harriet made so much money.”
“I told you her books sold well,” Louise said, her voice impatient.
“But that doesn’t mean you have a motive.”
“The book club meeting is the last trace he’s found of Harriet. Gina and I were the last people to see Harriet alive. The inspector thinks Gina knew about the will, and that Gina and I killed her, planning to split the money.”
“But that’s absurd. Anyone who knows you, would know you would never—”
“Well, the inspector doesn’t know me, and I have the feeling he’s moving as quickly as possible on this thing to make up for lost time. It can’t look good for them, that they ignored Gina when she told them Harriet might be missing. No, he wants to tidy up this case and get it off the books.”
“But if you and Gina…did away with Harriet, why would Gina try to convince them to look for Harriet?”
“According to the inspector, Gina must have had a guilty conscience and wanted the truth to come out. I poisoned her to keep her quiet. At least, that’s what the inspector insinuated. It’s the only thing that explains both Harriet’s disapp
earance and Gina’s poisoning, he said.”
I sat there, trying to think through the convoluted scenario. It could have been possible, just barely, but it was all wrong. “That’s just…crazy.”
Louise shrugged and stood, replacing the chair. She gave the table a swipe with a cloth that she pulled from her pocket. “Well, that’s the way it is, at least until I can get through to the solicitor.” She turned and walked toward the bar, her shoulders sagging. “I have invoices I need to pay.”
I trotted along behind her, thinking furiously. “Is Gina the only beneficiary? And why did Harriet leave money to Gina in the first place?”
“I don’t know. He said there was some statement in the will about how kind Gina was and her love of books and reading, but honestly, I zoned out there for a moment. All I know is she stands to inherit a lot of money.”
“What about the house? Does Harriet own it?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the rights to her books? Who gets those?”
“I have no idea.” Louise rearranged some glasses behind the bar.
“But it could be important.”
Louise drifted to the chalkboard and erased the day’s specials as I spoke. She picked up the chalk but stood there staring at the board.
“It could mean more motives,” I said. “I bet the rights to Harriet’s books are worth way more than a couple hundred pounds. We’re talking continuous income as long as the books sell. We need to see that will and—”
Louise’s phone rang. She answered quickly. After listening for a moment, she said, “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call. “Gina is awake and asking for me.”
I stayed in the waiting room while Louise went to see Gina. Louise had called Ella to cover the pub again, and because Louise was so flustered and nervous, I’d driven her to the hospital. I needed to go to Upper Benning anyway. The shop owner had called that morning with the news that Alex’s print was in.
At the hospital, the nurse informed us that only one person could see Gina, so I’d left Louise and driven the short distance to the Christmas market. The festive atmosphere was exactly the same, but I felt disconnected from it and couldn’t enjoy it. The print was in good shape and beautifully framed, so the owner wrapped it up for me and, after gulping at the overnight shipping charge, I paid him then hurried through the cheerful crowds. I managed to wedge the print into the MG, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get both the print and Louise in the car for the return trip to Nether Woodsmoor.
At the hospital, I was too antsy to stay in the uncomfortable chairs. I paced around the waiting room for a few moments, but it was so stuffy that I went outside and took a brisk walk through the rows of cars to the far edge of the parking area. The air was crisp, and snowflakes spun lazily in the air. Through a gap in the buildings, I could see a bit of the rolling countryside. The edges of the fields near the dry stone walls that crisscrossed the land were already white with snow.
I retrieved my camera from the car and snapped a few photos as my thoughts spooled. During the drive to the hospital that morning, Louise and I had talked through the possibilities of why someone would want Harriet out of the way. Since she didn’t seem to have any sort of close relationship—no boyfriend or lover—that seemed to rule out a crime of passion or jealousy. And the police seemed to agree with their close focus on Louise and Gina. So that left money…or an inheritance. We needed to find out who else would benefit from Harriet’s death.
I returned to the close atmosphere of the waiting room and found Louise emerging from the elevator, her face strained. “That inspector had already been in to see Gina.” She gripped my arm. “He tried to get her to admit to murdering Harriet. He’d checked up on Gina and found out she has missed her last two house payments. I had no idea. She never said a word to me until today, but they cut back on her hours at the grocery, and there are rumors of a reduction in staff.”
“Which explains why the police are looking at her as a suspect. Financial troubles combined with the fact that she was one of the last people to see Harriet alive…well, that’s not good.”
Louise gripped my arm. “She’s so weak. She looked just awful, and now she’s terrified she’ll be arrested.” Louise checked her phone. “Why doesn’t the solicitor call? He doesn’t know it, but he has two clients now.” She ran a trembling hand over her forehead, pushing up her bright bangs. “At least I have a little money saved. I won’t be able to update the pub’s kitchen, but, well, if I’m not in prison, I guess it will be money well spent.”
The thought of Louise spending money to defend herself from these ridiculous insinuations made me fume. “Louise, I know you didn’t do anything to harm Harriet. Do you think there’s even the remotest chance that Gina had something to do with Harriet’s disappearance?”
Louise instantly shook her head. “No. Gina is a gentle person. I know you saw her get agitated over Harriet’s disappearance, but no matter how difficult her life is, she would never, ever do anything like that.”
“Okay, then let’s find another suspect for the inspector.”
Chapter 8
I RANG THE DOORBELL AT Harriet’s house and stepped back. Louise waited a few steps behind me. I’d often been in this situation as a location scout, cold calling, asking for something from someone who had no reason to even speak to me. I felt that same frisson of nervousness that I always did, but I forced myself to ignore it. A lot more was riding on this conversation than a filming location.
The door cracked open, and Bridgette peered out. I hoped she’d be there. She didn’t have anywhere else to go.
“Hi, Bridgette. I’m sure you’re not really in the mood to talk to anyone today with the news about your sister, but I think you might be able to help us figure out what happened.”
“The police know what happened. They told me this morning that they think some clerk at the grocery did it, for money.”
“And the police never get anything wrong, do they? They never have the wrong idea about anyone.”
After a long pause, Bridgette opened the door wider. “What do you want?”
“Do you have a copy of Harriet’s will? That would help.”
She looked at Louise. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Louise, a friend of Harriet’s.”
“I remember you from the market. Okay, come in.” Bridgette walked to the kitchen where she motioned for us to take the two seats at the counter.
She’d showered and had on fresh clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which only emphasized her puffy, red eyes. She picked up a folded stack of papers from the desk and tossed it on the counter. “That’s her will.”
“I thought the police had it.” I smoothed out the creases as I opened it.
“Harriet had another copy. Of course she did. That’s Harriet all over. Always prepared. I mean, she even has a list of her passwords, right there stuck to her laptop keyboard. Alphabetized, too. Go on, read it if you want, but all the legalese boils down to two things. This Gina person gets some money. I get everything else—the house, the contents, and rights to her books—but only after I go through rehab.” Bridgette looked away, her eyes glistening. “Typical Harriet. Bossy, even in her will.”
“But that’s what you wanted,” I said.
“Yes. I’m going to do it as soon as…well, as soon as all this is sorted.” She gestured at the papers in my hand. The doorbell rang. “I’d better get that. Might be the police again,” she said with a small smile in my direction.
I had put the will down, but Louise picked it up and scanned the print. “She’s right. She gets everything else.” Louise gave me a significant look. “That sounds like motive to me.”
“Yes, although she said she just arrived here,” I said as the murmur of two female voices floated back to us.
“You told me yourself she said she was an addict.” Louise kept her voice low.
I’d filled Louise in on what Bridgette had told me. I
hadn’t kept anything from Louise. I knew she could keep a secret, and she was the one being questioned by the police. It only seemed fair that she have all the information.
“To get their next high, addicts will do whatever they have to,” Louise said in an urgent whisper. “Where was she a few weeks ago? If she knew about the will, she could have killed Harriet, knowing she’d have a steady income from her books for years and years.”
“Then where’s the body?” I asked. “It would be much easier to inherit if Harriet’s body was found.”
“Something must have happened. Maybe she put it somewhere where she thought it would be found, but it hasn’t been, and that’s why she’s here now.”
The volume of voices increased. Something else was bothering me about what Louise said. “A steady income,” I murmured. “Someone else has been profiting from Harriet’s disappearance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who is selling Harriet’s autographed books at the market?”
“Carrie,” Louise breathed. “Yes, you’re right.” She lowered her voice another notch. “Speak of the devil.”
Carrie swept into the kitchen. Dressed in yoga pants and a hooded sweatshirt, she looked quite different than she had in her Regency outfit. “I’ll just pop these in here for you. I don’t cook,” she said with pride, “but these takeaway dinners are absolutely delicious.”
She entered the kitchen. Her steps faltered when she saw Louise and me. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company. Louise.” She sent a minuscule smile in our direction, then spotted the papers on the counter. She had a difficult time looking away from them as she placed several white containers in the refrigerator.
“I won’t keep you,” she said to Bridgette. “If you need anything, anything at all, just pop over. Harriet and I were very close. I can’t tell you how sad I am to hear the news. So tragic.”
A crazy thought came into my head, and I missed Bridgette’s reply as I debated if I should do it. It was a risk. But when would there be another chance? And the police seemed to be so focused on Louise and Gina…
