Pasta Mortem

by Ellery Adams

  “All right, Lucy. Enough stalling. What did you find out about Kitty Walters?”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you.”

  “Lucy! How can you say that? We’re a team, the five of us. Or has your dislike of Murphy made you forget?”

  Lucy’s cornflower blue gaze swung back to him. “She had my doppelganger in her book become disfigured. She said she was using our photos for a feature in the Star, which was a lie. She used us to promote her book and her land development scheme. Why should I care what happens to her?”

  “You don’t mean that. I know that you want to see justice served as much if not more than I do, given your profession.”

  Lucy expelled a breath. The false eyelash on her left eye threatened to come off again. Lucy reached up, ripped both false eyelashes off, tucked them in her pants pocket, and said, “Kitty Walters told me that Ray Edwards left everything to her. She claims to have a handwritten will that he wrote.”

  “Does that mean Kitty owns Edwards’s share of the corporation? If so, maybe she killed Edwards when she found out he was sleeping with Murphy. That way, she’d own his shares and make a ton of money. Have you thought of that?”

  “That’s not the way it works. Sheriff Huckabee told me that Edwards’s shares would revert to the corporation. Murphy would get the lion’s share, with Joel Foster getting only a token few shares. It’s standard procedure for a corporation like that to have big life insurance policies on its principals. If anything, Kitty would get the insurance money, unless Edwards named another beneficiary. That’s all assuming the will is legal. Sheriff Huckabee says an attorney for Edwards’s estate will make that determination.”

  “Are you saying that Murphy now owns almost all of the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation?”

  “Yes, James, she does. Murphy gained the most from Edwards’s death.”

  James thought about Murphy’s tears, her grief, the pain in her eyes when Kitty Walters told her she was Ray Edwards’s fiancée. “Not if she loved him, Lucy. And I think she did.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  James was walking back to the supper club’s table when his attention was caught by the large TV showing the Hearth and Home episode Joy had spoken about. Brandon, looking very young, sat on a sleeping blanket in a clearing in the woods, a small fire burning in front of him. James watched for a couple of minutes then joined his friends.

  Gillian and Bennett had plates of food in front of them. Gillian had a bowl of salad, but Bennett’s plate contained a heaping serving of chicken fried steak, corn pudding, and shrimp and grits. Off to one side, a smaller plate contained a slice of pecan pie. James thought about his apples and peanut butter out in the truck, probably frozen solid. Oh, well, he thought, it wouldn’t kill me to miss a meal.

  Gillian tapped her fingers on the table. “Bennett, I thought you didn’t want to get full-blown diabetes.”

  “I’m hungry,” he replied. “I had some of that multigrain cereal you bought me for breakfast at the crack of dawn this morning. I haven’t had anything else since I finished my route.”

  Gillian slid the pie away. “At least don’t bombard your body with all that sugar.”

  Bennett looked woefully after his dessert. “They had peach cobbler. Can I have that? It’s fruit.”

  “You’re too late,” James commented. “They’ve taken up the buffet. Joy is shepherding people out of the hall. The break’s about to start. Here’s the plan: when Joy comes back, we’re going to volunteer to help her straighten the merchandise. Look over at that table.”

  Gillian and Bennett dutifully looked where James indicated.

  “The T-shirts and sweatshirts need to be folded, the Hearth and Home buttons lined up, and probably those boxes behind the table need to be unpacked. Lending a hand will keep us in the hall, able to question the actors.”

  “And Joy,” Gillian said. “Good idea, James.”

  “Actually, it was Jane’s idea. I can’t take credit.”

  Lucy appeared and rested her hands on the back of a chair. “How’s Jane feeling?”

  “Better, thank you, Lucy,” James said.

  Lucy had her eye on Sullie, who personally escorted Amber Ross to the reserved table, talking to her and making her laugh. He stole a glance at Lucy and then he and Amber tittered.

  James wanted to punch him, but since one person had already been arrested for assault, he thought better of it. “Sullie’s not thinking clearly by flirting with the actress-turned-makeup-guru. He’ll realize it soon enough.”

  Lucy tossed her hair. “I don’t care. Brandon is way hotter. He reminds me of that English actor Clive Owen. I’ll be the one to question him.”

  Gillian put her fork down. “Lucy, I’m going to powder my nose. Will you come with me?”

  Lucy nodded and the two made their way out of the hall with the remainder of the reunion attendees.

  Bennett finished the last of his food and gazed longingly at the slice of pecan pie. “Man, I get tired of Gillian telling me what I should and shouldn’t eat. Guess I’d better get rid of the pie.”

  James held the plate and brought it to his nose. He could smell the nutty sweetness of the confection and wanted to pick up the pie with his bare hands and shove a bite in his mouth. “She loves you and doesn’t want you to have to take pills or inject yourself with insulin.”

  “Go ahead and eat that, James. I know you want to.”

  “Thanks. I haven’t had lunch.”

  “Hurry before Gillian sees you.”

  James consumed the pie in four bites. He bolted over to where the dirty dishes were stacked and added the pie plate. Then he contemplated who he was really deceiving by cheating on his diet.

  He looked around for Joy but didn’t see her, so he returned to the table. The actors sat around their table. Amber listened while Sullie told what was probably a wildly embellished story, if his hand gestures were anything to go by. Amber looked bored.

  Valerie Norris spoke to the young man who’d been helping her with her book sales. Her eyes gleamed as she counted the money he’d collected in a leather sleeve. When she was done, she handed the young man a twenty-dollar bill and dismissed him with a curt, “You may go.”

  Brandon said, “Where’s Joel?”

  “Gone to meet the pretty Kitty,” Doug said.

  “I believe you mean Kitty Walters,” Brandon said. “Where’s she staying?”

  “A motel in Mayberryburg.”

  James pursed his lips. “Excuse me. Do you mean Harrisonburg?”

  “One of these bump-in-the-road towns,” Doug said. “Where’s Joy with our sushi, Brandon?”

  “Here I come,” Joy said in a singsong voice. She balanced a paper bag and five covered trays, which she handed out. “Where’s Joel?” she asked in a panicked voice. “He shouldn’t have left the hall without telling me where he was going.”

  “He’ll be here soon,” Brandon soothed. “Don’t worry. Thanks for getting these for us. Got any chopsticks?”

  “For you, darling boy, anything,” Joy cooed. She pulled chopsticks out of the bag, as well as soy sauce. “Don’t forget that I have a masseuse coming in. She’ll be setting up in the basement. Remember to take one of the deputies with you for protection against overeager fans. I don’t want any of you stressed, so be sure to take advantage of this service. We’ve sold a lot of tickets for tonight’s special discussion panel and the silent auction. You need to be at your best so that we don’t let the fans down.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” Doug said. He fumbled with his chopsticks, dropping them on the table twice, and cursed.

  James had the fleeting thought that Doug might have been drinking. And not the water Joy had placed at their signing table. His demeanor was markedly different from the night the cast members played Monopoly.

  Bennett said, “Ms. Carmichael, I’m Bennett. Can I help you over there by the merchandise table? Looks like you’ve got some heavy boxes to unpack.”

  She smiled. “Yes,
you may. Go on over and begin straightening the merchandise on the table. Make sure you stack the same sizes of the sweatshirts and T-shirts together. Wait for me to supervise you before you open any boxes.”

  Bennett shot James a look that said that if he could sort mail, he could handle a few dozen clothing items, but did as Joy instructed.

  Gillian and Lucy returned from the ladies’ room. James broke out in a wide smile when he saw Lucy. Somehow Gillian had convinced their friend that she was better off without all the heavy cosmetics. Lucy’s face had been scrubbed clean. She wore a pretty pink lipstick and, James knew from watching Jane do her eyes, had applied a coat of black mascara that contrasted nicely with her blue eyes.

  Lucy smiled back at him. She pulled out the chair next to Brandon and said, “May I sit here?”

  Brandon gave her a blinding smile that showed off his super-white teeth. “Sure. You’re Lucy, right?”

  The two started chatting. James was pleased to see Sullie’s annoyed expression.

  Joy said, “Lucy, now that you’re here to guard our stars, I can supervise Ben at the merchandise table.”

  “His name is Bennett,” Gillian said politely.

  “It hardly matters,” Joy said and marched away.

  James placed his hand over Gillian’s, knowing that otherwise she would launch into the importance of one’s name and how disrespectful it was to mispronounce or mangle it.

  At that moment, Joel entered the hall with Kitty Walters in tow. Kitty wore another tight dress, this one in a leopard print. She carried the same white fur coat. When they reached the table, James saw that Kitty’s face where Murphy had slapped her was faintly bruised but not swollen. A butterfly bandage covered the small cut Murphy’s ring had inflicted. Kitty immediately noticed Lucy flirting with Brandon. James could have sworn that, for the briefest moment, her eyes narrowed in anger.

  Gillian said, “I think I’ll go help Bennett.”

  When she left, James turned his chair toward the other table.

  “Everyone,” Lucy said, “this is my friend James Henry. He’s the head librarian in Quincy’s Gap.”

  “A librarian?” Doug said and rose to his feet. “Think I’ll check out the masseuse.”

  Lucy said, “Sullie, would you go with Doug?” The tone she used implied an order rather than a request. He nodded and the two walked away.

  “Ms. Walters,” James said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Call me Kitty,” she said, bringing out her lace handkerchief and touching a dry eye.

  “Kitty, where are you from?”

  “I live in Louisville with Ray. That’s how I know Joel. He runs Southern Style magazine out of Louisville.”

  James had been asking where Kitty was born, not where she lived now, as Kitty didn’t have even a ghost of a Southern accent, but her answer got the wheels turning in his head.

  Brandon said, “Doug told us you were staying in Harrisonburg, Kitty. I spoke to Mrs. Anderson, the innkeeper at the Red Bird where we’re all staying. She said the police have released the suite on the third floor where Ray and Murphy were staying. If you want, you can take my room. I’ll stay up there.”

  Kitty glowed at Brandon’s attention. “That’s kind of you, Brandon. There’s no need for you to change rooms, though. I’ll stay in the suite.”

  “How morbid,” Valerie said.

  “Not at all,” Kitty declared. “I’ll feel closer to my Ray staying where he spent his last moments. By the way, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

  Valerie looked at Kitty as if she were an insect crawling on the buffet table. “I’m Valerie Norris, the author.”

  “Oh. I wouldn’t know that since I don’t read books.”

  James cringed. How could anyone not read books! He had a mad urge to take Kitty back to his library and show her all of his beloved books.

  Amber Ross got out her phone and began mindlessly tapping away.

  “Kitty, are you an actress?” James asked, knowing she wasn’t but wondering how he could ask her what she did for a living without sounding pushy. Her response surprised him.

  “Maybe once upon a time,” Kitty said, observing Brandon, who kept his attention on Lucy. “I’m a Realtor.”

  “A Realtor friend in Quincy’s Gap, Joan Beechnut, told me that Ray Edwards was going to bring in a Realtor to sell the houses in his planned community,” James prompted.

  “That would be me,” Kitty chirped. “With the money I’ll get from Ray’s estate, I’m thinking of investing in Joel’s corporation in addition to selling the new houses built later this summer. What’s it called again, Joel? Bees Heaven?”

  Brandon cut his eyes in Kitty’s direction. A muscle twitched in his jaw. An emotion passed between them. Not a pleasant emotion, James thought. Then James felt he should be remembering something else, but he couldn’t think what.

  “Honeybee Heaven Farms,” Joel said. “You did bring Ray’s handwritten will with you, right?”

  “Yes. It’s here in my purse. I keep it close to me always. Another way to still have Ray with me.”

  “I may lose my lunch,” Valerie muttered.

  Kitty heard her. “You must never have been in love, Valerie.”

  “Such a silly emotion. I won’t share my royalties, I mean, loyalties with any man,” Valerie declared.

  “As we’ve told Joel, Kitty,” James said in a friendly tone, “none of the townsfolk in Quincy’s Gap want to see a big explosion in population that the development would bring. Our school structure couldn’t handle the extra pupils, more people mean more crime, and our town would lose its personality. Murphy agrees that, with the passing of Ray Edwards, the development shouldn’t go forward.” The second the last words were out of his mouth, James realized he’d made a mistake.

  Kitty stiffened. “Oh, well, if Murphy doesn’t think we should go ahead then, Joel, I think you and I should proceed. Besides, with Murphy in prison for Ray’s murder, she won’t be able to profit from the corporation, will she?”

  “If Murphy’s convicted, which I don’t think she will be,” Joel rushed to say, “her shares would revert to the corporation.”

  Kitty smiled. “Then you and I could own it all, Joel. Of course, we’d have to let someone buy a few shares so they’d have voting rights but no real control. Maybe you could do that, Brandon.”

  Brandon snapped his chopsticks in half. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Kitty. First, an attorney has to verify that the handwritten will is authentic.”

  “That’s a nasty thing to say,” Kitty retorted, her face wrinkling with annoyance. “Do you think I’d forge it?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Brandon said in a bored tone. He turned his attention back to Lucy, picking up a strand of her hair and winding it around his index finger. Lucy had the same expression as when faced with a new can of frosting.

  Kitty fumed.

  James stood. “If you’ll all excuse me, I need to get some work done at the library.”

  Mumbled goodbyes followed this announcement.

  Amber Ross never took her eyes from her phone.

  James had his hand on the door to the hall when Bennett caught up with him. “You’re leaving?”

  “I’m going back to the library so that I can get on the Internet. I want to check on someone.”

  “It’s not Doug Moore, is it? Because I can tell you about him.”

  James gave Bennett his full attention. “What did you find out?”

  “Joy plays favorites with her ‘darlings’ and Doug is at the bottom of her list. She’s not above a little gossip when it comes to the show she’s obsessed with. Especially if one of the cast isn’t living up to the morals of the show. Seriously, man, I bet you the walls of her house are covered with pictures of these actors. Anyway, seems Mr. Doug Moore likes his liquor. Joy told me that she wrote in the Home and Hearth newsletter—yes, there is such a thing as well as a fan club Joy runs—that Doug was off on a ‘spiritual trip’ to India when he
was actually drying out at a rehab in Cleveland.”

  “Cleveland? I would have thought some fancy place in California since he lives in Los Angeles.”

  “Cheaper to get sober in Cleveland, I guess. Doug probably lives in a studio apartment in LA. Drank all his money away, according to Joy. Then, listen to this. He put an ad online that, for a hefty price, he would read screenplays and give feedback. A moneymaking thing, but Joy says he took it a step further.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Doug stole one of the screenplays, changed a few names and locations, and passed it off as his own. Sold it to a Hollywood producer for a big chunk of change. Only luck wasn’t on Doug’s side. The screenplay had been making the rounds. An assistant in the producer’s office recognized it. Doug had to give the money back and pay off the screenplay writer so the guy wouldn’t sue him.”

  “Wow,” James breathed. “A man who would do that—”

  “Might kill,” Bennett finished for him. “But why? How would he benefit from Edwards’s death? I don’t think Doug even knew Edwards unless he met him at the Red Bird.”

  James heaved out a sigh. “I don’t see a motive either. Look, tell Gillian I’ll see you two back here tomorrow afternoon. When I’m done at the library, I’m going to the Sweet Tooth to pick up some of their cheddar and herb cheese straws. Jane loves them.”

  “Not in the doghouse, are you?”

  James thought of Jane’s chilly goodbye. “No, but I’m in the yard nearby and don’t want to get closer. See you tomorrow.”

  Lucy came up to them. “James, I see you’re trying to leave, but I wanted to tell you that I asked Brandon if he’d seen anyone at the Red Bird who shouldn’t be there. He said no. I also asked if he’d heard anything unusual. Again, his answer was no.”

  “All right,” James said. “When Doug Moore comes back from his massage, can you ask him the same questions?”