by Sarah Fox
“Okay,” I said, thinking out loud, “so what about motive?”
“My mom would never kill my grandfather. She wouldn’t.”
“I’m not saying she did,” I said quickly, hoping to defuse his growing anger. “I’m just trying to figure out what the police are thinking. Do you have any idea why they might think she would have wanted your grandfather dead?”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe for his money? Things have been really tough for my mom since she left my dad. She tried to get a job but nobody wants to hire her. And my grandfather wouldn’t give her any money even though he has piles of it.” Although Jordan’s anger had diminished, a note of resentment crept into his voice. “He thought he was doing too much by letting us stay here. And he never let her forget that.”
“But he left her a lot of money in his will?”
“I don’t know, actually. Knowing him, he probably didn’t leave us anything. But maybe the police think she expected him to even if he didn’t?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever they’re thinking, it’s stupid. My mom’s not a murderer.”
The doorbell rang but Jordan made no move to get up. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the fireplace. I understood that he wasn’t happy with the police and figured he didn’t need anything extra to deal with anyway, so I left him there on the chesterfield and headed for the spacious foyer. Once there, I unlocked and opened the door. Salnikova stood at the top of the wide stone steps, two uniformed officers behind her.
“Thanks for coming,” I said as I stepped back and pulled the door open wider so they could enter the foyer. After shutting the door behind them, I led them down the hall to Major’s study.
“This is where you saw the intruder?” Salnikova asked as she stepped into the room with the uniformed officers in her wake.
I remained in the doorway. “I was waiting for Jordan to come downstairs. I heard a noise and thought maybe it was him so I came to look. That’s when I saw Dr. Beaufort take off through the open window.”
“You recognized him?”
“Yes. Dr. Daniel Beaufort. He’s on the Point Grey Philharmonic’s board of directors.”
“You didn’t mention on the phone that you recognized him.” Salnikova’s voice held a note of rebuke.
Oops. “Sorry.”
“And you’re certain that’s who the intruder was?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right. Thank you, Ms. Bishop. I’ll come talk to you and Jordan in a few minutes.”
She turned her back to me and I sighed at her use of my last name and the obvious dismissal. As much as I wanted to stay outside the door and eavesdrop, Salnikova would probably note the absence of my heels clacking down the hallway. With a silent curse at my beautiful but nonstealthy boots, I returned to the living room where I’d left Jordan.
As I took in the sight of all the expensive furnishings and artwork, it occurred to me that Mr. Major had owned everything material that he could have possibly wanted—a mansion, impressive display pieces, a private island (if that rumor was true), and a heck of a lot more. But other areas of his life had been lacking, of that I was sure. I doubted the rooms of his house had seen much happiness or laughter over the years. That made me even sadder for Jordan. Had he left one unhappy home—disrupted by his parents’ feuding—for another?
I forced myself to focus on the present, knowing I couldn’t do anything to change my student’s past.
“The police are taking a look around,” I told him.
Jordan frowned. “Why are they so interested in a break-in when they aren’t interested in arresting the right person for my grandfather’s murder?”
I joined him on the chesterfield again. “I guess there’s no real evidence linking your uncle or anyone else to the crime. At least not that they’ve found so far.”
“Just because they haven’t found it that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“I won’t disagree with you there,” I said. “And maybe they’ll look into Dr. Beaufort now. The fact that he broke in here doesn’t make him a killer, but it certainly makes him suspicious. Any idea what he could have been after?”
“None.” Jordan got up and paced across the room to the fireplace. “But I know he’s not the killer.”
“Because you believe your uncle killed your grandfather?”
“I know he did.”
I stifled a sigh, knowing a fourteen-year-old’s certainty wasn’t enough to get his mother off the detective’s radar. “Okay, but do you have any proof? I know you heard him threaten your grandfather, but is there anything else to link him to the crime? And maybe he had motive, but what about the opportunity to poison your grandfather?”
“I don’t know.” Jordan resumed pacing. “He knows where my grandfather kept all his alcohol. He helped himself to it often enough. I’m sure he could have put poison in the flask as easily as anyone.”
“Does your uncle live here?”
“Nah. He lives in some crummy apartment building downtown. But he shows up here from time to time. Mostly because he wants money. He doesn’t have a key but the back door is often unlocked if there’s somebody home. And Marjorie doesn’t have the guts to turn him away if he shows up at the front door. Not that she’d be able to turn him away. He’d probably barge right past her.”
My thoughts focused on the frizzy-haired woman who’d attended the reception. “Who is Marjorie, exactly?”
“My grandfather’s slave.” He caught sight of my dubious expression and amended his answer. “I don’t know what to call her. I guess she was a housekeeper, cook, and a sort of companion for my grandfather. She looked after him, basically. She didn’t seem to care that he bossed her around constantly. But then again, she was getting paid for it, unlike the rest of us.”
But what if she did mind? Maybe deep down she’d hated her boss, her resentment building day by day and week by week until she snapped. “Do you know if she’ll benefit from your grandfather’s death in any way?”
“I don’t see how. She’s staying on here for a couple of weeks, but my mom already told her she’ll have to look for a new job. So unless my grandfather left her a pile of money in his will, I’d say she’s worse off now than she was when he was alive.”
Perhaps she was worse off, but I still added her to my mental list of suspects. Maybe Mr. Major had hinted that he would leave her a substantial legacy in his will, whether he actually did or not. Or maybe it was worth it to her to be out of a job to be rid of her tormentor (if she thought of him as her tormentor). Sure, it would have been easier to quit her job to get away from him, but not everyone made their life decisions based on rational thought, particularly murderers.
“Besides, we’re getting off track.” Jordan’s voice brought me back from my thoughts. “I need to find a way to convince the police to investigate my uncle.”
“Why don’t you talk to Detective Salnikova again?” I suggested. “Remind her that your uncle threatened your grandfather and make sure she knows he had access to the flask.”
“Who the hell are you?”
I jerked around in my seat, startled by the new voice as well as its vehemence. A scruffy man in need of a shave and some clean clothes stood inside the French doors, now open. He glared at me with disturbing hatred, his beady eyes almost burning with it.
“Uncle Kevin,” Jordan started. He had no chance to say more.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble with the police?”
The man I now knew to be Kevin Major advanced toward me, aggression radiating off his stocky body.
I jumped to my feet and stepped to the side, keeping the chesterfield between us as my heart beat like a racing metronome. “I’m not trying to do anything.”
“Like hell you aren’t!” He took another step toward the chesterfield. “I heard what you said. You’re trying
to pin the old man’s murder on me.” His hands clenched into fists. “But you know what? There’s no way that’s going to happen. No way in hell.”
My breath caught in my throat. Kevin seemed to find my fear amusing, or at least pleasing.
He sneered at me and narrowed his eyes.
The next second, he lunged at me.
Chapter Ten
I DODGED AROUND the side of the chesterfield, barely staying out of Kevin’s grasp.
“Leave her alone!” Jordan yelled, but Kevin only made another grab for me.
As I evaded his grasp once more, Jordan jumped between us. That, unfortunately, didn’t deter his uncle. He snatched a small but sturdy statuette off an end table and drew his arm back before letting the piece of artwork fly. The statuette clipped Jordan on the shoulder.
I was ready to make a run for it, or maybe scream for Salnikova’s help, because things were seriously out of hand. The commotion must have carried down the hallway because Salnikova appeared without any request from me, both uniformed officers at her side.
“What’s going on in here?” the detective asked, her eyes going straight to Kevin, who held another statuette raised up in his hand, ready to take aim at me again.
His beady eyes took in the sight of the police and his nostrils flared. He let out an angry snarl and made a dash for the French doors, dropping the statuette as he ran.
“Hey!” Salnikova yelled after him.
She gestured at the uniformed officers and they both took off after Kevin. He disappeared into the darkness beyond the reach of the floodlights, and Salnikova followed as far as the patio. She pulled out her cell phone and spoke to someone in a low voice.
I wrapped my arms around myself, realizing only then that a slight shakiness had taken over my body.
“Are you all right?” I asked Jordan as he rubbed his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” He gave his shoulder one last rub and dropped his hand. “Sorry about that. He’s got a psycho temper. Can’t you picture him killing someone?”
“Yes, I guess I can.” What I didn’t mention was that while I could picture Kevin Major using physical violence to harm or kill someone, I wasn’t sure I could picture him using a more subtle method like poisoning.
I moved closer to the French doors as Salnikova ended her call and the two uniformed officers returned to the patio, out of breath and without Kevin.
“Sorry, Detective,” the older of the two officers said as he huffed and puffed. “He vaulted over the fence and we lost him in the alley.”
Salnikova stepped back in the house. “What was that all about?” She directed the question at both me and Jordan.
My student beat me to answering. “He overheard us talking about how he killed my grandfather and went all psycho. Like he does.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate, but correcting Jordan would only upset him, which I didn’t want to do. Besides, I figured it was close enough to the truth for the moment.
“You two go back to the study,” Salnikova directed the officers. As they headed off down the hall, she returned her attention to me and Jordan. “Is Marjorie Alberts in her suite?” she asked my student.
“Not right now,” Jordan replied. “She’s gone out to see a play or something.”
“What about your mom? Will she be home soon?”
“She said she’d be home by eleven. And my aunt just arrived in town. She’s on her way from the airport.”
Salnikova nodded, apparently satisfied that he would have family with him before long. While Jordan was old enough to be on his own for a while, I too was relieved to know he wouldn’t be alone. Especially since I’d scared off an intruder earlier that evening. I couldn’t imagine Dr. Beaufort acting violently toward anyone, but before that night I also wouldn’t have been able to picture him breaking into someone’s house and rifling through their belongings. More concerning than Beaufort’s intrusion, however, was Kevin Major’s aggressive behavior. I didn’t think I could count on him not taking out his anger on his nephew, and that left me more than a little worried.
“What about your uncle?” I asked Jordan. “If he comes back . . .”
“If he comes back,” Salnikova interjected, “call 911 immediately.”
Jordan didn’t seem to share our level of concern. “I’ll lock all the doors and arm the security system. I’ll be fine.”
I sure hoped that would be the case.
“We’ll be another minute or two in the study and then we’ll be on our way,” the detective said.
She set off toward the front of the house, leaving me and Jordan alone. He locked the French doors and hit a button on a small remote control set on an end table. Blinds automatically lowered over the doors and all the windows.
“It’s quite late now,” I said. “Do you still want to go ahead with your lesson?”
“I’d rather not, if that’s okay.” Now that the surprise of Kevin’s appearance had worn off, the sadness had returned to Jordan’s eyes. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m sure my mom will still pay you.”
I nodded and collected my violin. My heart ached for Jordan but I knew there wasn’t much I could do aside from trying to figure out a way to prove his mother’s innocence, if she was indeed innocent. That wasn’t something I could figure out right then, though. I needed more information and time to sort out what I already knew.
“Okay.” I headed toward the foyer, Jordan falling into step with me. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”
“Hopefully by then my mom will have some good news.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning my mom and I are going to see my grandfather’s lawyer about his will. Maybe he didn’t leave my mom anything, but I hope he did. She’s so stressed about money these days.”
The mention of the will reading piqued my interest, but I didn’t let it show. I figured the police already had a copy of the will, and if Mrs. Duffy stood to inherit a substantial amount, maybe that was part of their reason for suspecting her. But she might not be the only beneficiary. I’d be interested to find out if Kevin or anyone else was about to come into some money. It wasn’t any of my business, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.
I paused by the front door as I remembered something. “Do you know who Elspeth is?”
“Elspeth? Why?”
“Your grandfather was asking for her right before he collapsed.”
The sadness in Jordan’s eyes intensified. “That was my grandmother’s name. She died eight years ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Jordan shrugged, but I regretted bringing the subject up.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” I told him as we parted at the front door.
The police were still busy in the study, light pouring out of the tall windows into the front yard. I walked along the driveway, down to the street, and followed the sidewalk from there. The streetlamps were lit and I was used to walking to and from bus stops at night since I didn’t own a car, but still, I removed my cell phone from my purse and held it in my free hand, just in case I needed to make a quick call for any reason.
Thoughts of Daniel Beaufort and what he might have been searching for in Major’s study occupied my thoughts as I walked along the quiet street. I recalled the less than amicable conversation between the two men at the reception on Friday night and wondered if Beaufort’s search of the study was related in any way. I suspected that it was, but I hadn’t overheard enough at the reception to give me any sort of clue as to what the problem between them was. And I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find out. Questioning Dr. Beaufort would be awkward and it was something I wanted to avoid if at all possible.
As I neared the bus stop, a twig snapped somewhere behind me. I spun around but saw no one on the street. Maybe it had only been a raccoon or other small animal. Mo
st likely. Still, my heart beat faster and I tightened my grip on my phone. There were plenty of places for someone to hide. Large trees lined the street and bushes and stone walls surrounded several of the large residential properties. I thought a shadow moved near one of the trees. My heart jumped and increased its rate further, its beat like the percussion part of a wild, racing song.
The shadow didn’t move again and I wondered if my eyes had merely played a trick on me. I didn’t want to stick around to find out if that was or wasn’t the case. Picking up my pace, I selected JT’s number from the list of contacts on my phone. I put the device to my ear, but it rang three times and went to voice mail.
Darn it.
I hung up without leaving a message. He was probably in the middle of band practice. Not that I expected him to come rescue me from spooky shadows or anything, but I would have felt better hearing his voice and having him know where I was. The confrontation with Kevin Major had left my nerves more on edge than I’d realized.
With a small measure of relief, I reached the bus stop, situated in a pool of light beneath a streetlamp. I peered into the surrounding darkness in a constant search for any movement. Although I thought another shadow across the street moved in an unnatural manner, once again I couldn’t be sure of what I’d seen. As I was thinking about texting JT with my location and concerns, a bus rumbled into sight and some of my nervous tension eased away.
When the bus stopped at the curb, I boarded it with an even greater sense of relief, glad to put some real distance between myself and the place where I’d last seen Kevin Major, and glad to be safely away from spooky, flickering shadows.
THAT NIGHT I expected to dream of dark shapes looming over me, or of an irate Kevin bent on silencing me forever. When I awoke the next morning, however, the only dream I could recall was about a cold ride on the back of a motorcycle on a dark, rainy night. I had no idea where that dream had come from.
What I did know was that I could no longer put off breaking up with Aaron. I didn’t want to wait until later in the day as I had originally planned. Waiting while knowing what I had to do was only upsetting my stomach and making me fidgety. I had to get it over with. As soon as possible.
