The French Maid Murder

by Anisa Claire West

“Was I right?” I asked expectantly as I unsealed the envelope.

  “100%,” Max replied proudly. “As you can see from the report, no fingerprints were found on the victim’s skin or clothing. The ligature was confirmed to be the hose of the vacuum cleaner just like you suspected.”

  “And there was no short circuit in that vacuum, right? Is that what the electrician discovered?”

  “Correct,” Max confirmed. “So this is good news and bad news.”

  “Good news because now we can search the whole property and bad news…”

  “Because there’s no forensic evidence,” Max finished glumly. “And the eyewitness accounts we’ve received so far have ranged from laughable to non-existent.”

  “It’s going to be another caffeinated day…and night,” I sighed, massaging my temples.

  “Yup. So fill me in. What did I miss this morning?”

  “For starters, you missed old Howie being carted off to the ER!”

  “What?!” Max rasped.

  “It’s true. And Lady Milton was stiff as a log. That woman is so hard-hearted, I don’t think she’d cry if an orphanage full of children sang lullabies to her!” I shook my head with dismay.

  “Unbelievable,” Max muttered. “What’s his prognosis?”

  “Not sure. The paramedic suggested it could be a heart attack.”

  “Looks like we’re going to need to swing down to the hospital after we search the mansion,” Max concluded.

  “Yes we are. So how do you want to do this? Separately?”

  “Separately to start with, then we’ll compare notes and do a second search together in case we missed anything the first time.” Max laid out the plan.

  “Should we call for back-up?” I asked.

  “Already have. Two police officers are on their way to assist with the search.”

  “Perfect. Let’s get started. The look on Lady Milton’s face is going to be priceless. She thinks she’s having a book club meeting today!” I snorted with laughter.

  “Slight change of plans,” Max smirked.

  In the midst of my discussion with Max, I hadn’t noticed the cherry red Mercedes that had parked in the driveway. “Book club member?” I ventured with a chuckle.

  “Let’s find out,” Max winked as we strode inside.

  Emerging in the doorway of Lady Milton’s pastel shaded sitting room, I cleared my throat. “Sorry to crash this little party, but we have a search to conduct.”

  “Still here?” Lady Milton murmured as though the sight of me bored her to death.

  “With a search warrant,” Max clarified, holding up the official document for Roberta Milton’s perusal.

  Bolting out of her chaise lounge, Lady Milton snatched the document from my partner and read it voraciously. “How did you get this so fast?” She demanded.

  “I’m not obliged to answer your questions, Lady Milton. Now if you’d step aside, please, we’d like to get started. You don’t want to hinder our investigation, trust me,” Max said with false intimacy.

  “What’s going on, Roberta?” A Chanel-clad woman asked, presumably emerging from the powder room.

  “Nothing. Let’s go have a glass of wine in the game room, Priscilla. We are allowed to have a glass of wine, aren’t we?” Lady Milton asked coldly as Max and I nodded in unison.

  Flouncing out of the room with her designer book club buddy, Lady Milton left Max and me reeling from her rudeness. “Sweet as candy, isn’t she?” I said playfully.

  “Sweet as raw Brussels sprouts,” Max piggybacked as we shared a brief laugh before tackling opposite sides of the mansion.

  “I’ve got dibs on servant quarters,” I called over my shoulder, itching to explore the room Rhett had left behind.

  “You got it,” Max said as our back-up cops entered through the front door. “I’ll go debrief them. Meet me in the garden in an hour.”

  Passing the kitchen on my way to the servant floor, I peeked inside and saw Gregory sticking toothpicks into finger sandwiches. Laurelle was tossing a Caesar salad in a giant metal bowl. Neither one noticed me as I glided down the hall and up the stairs. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I removed my shoes, not wanting the domestics downstairs to hear me. If they knew I was about to search their chambers, they might try to dash upstairs and remove possibly valuable evidence before I could access it.

  The door to Rhett’s room was closed. I sucked in a breath as I fisted the doorknob, hoping that there wouldn’t be a lock to hinder me. Fortunately, the doorknob turned easily and I stepped inside. Neatly folded on the twin bed was a pair of blue plaid pajamas. Conspicuously missing from the environment was any sign of the butler’s uniform.

  “He must have run out of here still wearing his uniform,” I murmured to myself. “When he disappeared…”

  I opened the closet, finding a bare bones space that housed little more than a handful of British spy novels and some old copies of Mad Magazine. “Boyish taste for a grown man in his 40’s,” I muttered.

  Rhett’s wardrobe chest was even more barren, containing nothing more than a freshly pressed uniform which I assumed to be a duplicate for hygiene purposes. Disappointed, I got down on my knees and stuck my head under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies stared back at me. Standing up, I placed my hands on my hips and looked around the tiny room. I couldn’t believe that the butler’s chamber didn’t contain a single juicy secret…but that didn’t mean Rhett himself was devoid of scandalous information.

  “I’ve got to find this guy!” I blurted out impatiently.

  Zipping my lips, I tiptoed into the next room that had a decidedly masculine theme. A chocolate toned comforter was draped over the bed while photographs of legendary football players covered the walls. A white chef’s hat hung loosely over the bed’s headboard. “Gregory’s room,” I deduced in a whisper.

  “What are you doing in my room?” A deep, violated voice inquired.

  Nearly leaping out of my skin, I clasped a hand over my heart and whirled around. Chef Gregory’s frame loomed enormously over me in the doorway. Instinctively, I patted my hidden holster where my firearm was ready to protect me.

  “The police department has obtained a search warrant for the entire property,” I stated, fighting off tremors in my voice. “I have every legal right to be in your room right now.”

  “Why did you pick my room to search?” Gregory asked darkly.

  “I’m searching every room in the mansion. Your room is not being singled out, I assure you.”

  “I told you that I don’t know anything…”

  “Yes! I did hear you the first hundred times!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by repeating those words.”

  “What does that mean?” Gregory seemed severely offended.

  “Listen, I don’t have time to chit-chat. I’m conducting a homicide investigation and I would strongly suggest that you refrain from impeding my search,” I warned with as much stern formality as I could muster.

  To my surprise, Gregory backed away slightly from the doorway. “I didn’t do anything, I swear,” he said, looking me dead in the eyes.

  “For your sake, I hope that’s true,” I replied frankly.

  He gave me a strange, unreadable look as he finally left the room. I held my breath until I heard his heavy footsteps retreating down the stairs. Involuntarily, I shuddered, feeling like taking a hot shower after dealing with the disturbingly quirky man. I didn’t want to succumb to weakness and fear, but I only did a quick scan of the room before moving on to Laurelle’s quarters. Let Max do a more thorough inspection. Being in Chef Gregory’s bedroom made me nauseous.

  In contrast to Gregory’s unwelcoming chamber, Laurelle’s bedroom was a portrait of soft femininity. Decorative pillows in shades of lavender and lily were strewn over an immaculate daybed. Heart shaped bottles of perfume brightened up a plain mahogany nightstand. The room had a pleasant aroma of cinnamon potpourri and French parfum. Feeling my jitters dissipate, I opened
the nightstand drawer and rummaged through the contents. As my hand closed around a bottle of facial moisturizer, the door slammed shut behind me. I froze in place as the sound of a key twisting in a lock made my heart palpitate forcefully against my sternum.

  Chapter 7

  My shock quickly transformed into fury at being held hostage. “Who locked me in here? What kind of game is this?” I shouted indignantly, pounding my fists against the door. “I’m a police officer! There are serious consequences for hindering an investigation!” I yelled.

  I stomped my feet obnoxiously on the floor, hoping that Max or one of the other officers downstairs would hear me. The servant quarters were so isolated from the rest of the household that I didn’t think they would be able to hear my cries. As I jumped up and down, creating as much noise as I could, I gripped my cell phone and placed a call to Max. Within a minute, I heard footsteps racing upstairs.

  “Max, is that you?” I called hopefully.

  “Luna, where are you?” The rich timber of Max’s voice instantly reassured me.

  “In Laurelle’s room. Somebody locked me in!”

  Max followed my voice and shook the doorknob violently. When the door didn’t budge, he swore under his breath. “I really don’t want to shoot this door open. Let me try to jimmy it open…hang on a sec.”

  My nerves calmed as I trustingly waited for Max to unlock the door. Ever police officer has had to jimmy a car or residential door open at some point. Figuring out how to free me shouldn’t be too difficult for my seasoned partner.

  “Got it!” He said triumphantly, swinging the door open and gazing at me, concerned.

  “Thanks Max,” I exhaled. “I think Chef Gregory locked me in here, but I don’t know why.”

  “Why do you think it was the chef?” Max asked.

  I filled Max in on my confrontation with the monosyllabic barbarian, also sharing my general impressions of his character. “We need to delve deeper into his past,” I advised.

  “Well, we already ran background checks on everyone in this household, but I guess we could try again,” Max said doubtfully.

  “I know it’s a long shot that we’ll find something, but we do have to try.” I hurried out of the room, avid for clean air. “I’m going to step outside for a few minutes.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Max said, following me downstairs and out onto the front lawn. “Let’s take a walk.” Whipping his phone out, he started rapidly typing. “I’m texting the rest of the crew to find out who locked you in that room.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling foolish. “I think I overreacted. Jumping up and down on the floor like that!”

  “Are you kidding? You did exactly what you needed to do. What’s wrong, Luna?” He asked, perceiving the faraway look on my face.

  Walking towards the ocean, I relished the breeze that kissed my face. Sighing with the breeze, I replied, “I’m wondering if I’m cut out for this job. I mean, I practically burst into tears when I first saw the body! Can I really handle this?”

  “You’ve been a cop for ten years! What are you talking about?”

  “A cop, yes. But not a homicide detective. This is a whole different ball game. Being a regular cop seems like child’s play compared to this job.” I slouched my shoulders as defeat weaved its way into my body language.

  “Listen, this job isn’t easy. And it isn’t for everyone. But you got the promotion for a reason, Luna. Your promotion was a vote of confidence from the chief. He knows you can do this and I know you can…”

  “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to give me a pep talk,” I said, staring out at a cluster of jagged cliffs.

  Max’s gaze followed mine as he took my hand and pointed towards the cliffs. Goose bumps rose on my skin at the unexpected contact. “See those cliffs? Being a homicide detective can be that rocky. But see that shoreline?” Max gestured towards gently lapping waves cascading onto the sand. “That’s the kind of peace you can bring to victims’ families. It’s all worth it for giving them that peace of mind and bringing their loved one’s killer to justice. There’s no feeling like it in the world.”

  Max’s words had profoundly moved me, and I found myself incapable of uttering a response. Instead of trying to speak, I merely nodded and thanked him silently through the warm glow in my eyes. He smiled, knowing he had reached me.

  “Should we go get some lunch? Or coffee?” His eyes glimmered at the mention of his beloved coffee.

  “No, let’s get back to work,” I replied, feeling rejuvenated from the beachfront stroll. “This was just what I needed to clear my head. Let’s go bring some peace back to shore.” Even if we never identified Fifi’s family, I knew that I would never find any personal peace until I solved her murder.

  ***

  Max had eventually persuaded me to refuel with a comfort food lunch of tuna melt sandwich with salty potato chips and pickle on the side. An indulgent vanilla milkshake to wash it all down had proved to be the perfect antidote to my stress. Revived and ready to continue the investigation, I charged back into the mansion and claimed the ground floor level for my next phase. Lady Milton was sulking in the corner, cooling herself with a wooden Oriental-style fan. Predictably, she scowled at me as I staked out her turf.

  “You’re not going to be here past sunset, are you?” She asked miserably.

  “Why? Planning to visit your husband in the hospital and don’t want to leave your castle in the hands of us peasants?” I said sarcastically.

  “I don’t need to visit Howard. He’s doing fine,” she replied with a distinct note of disappointment in her voice.

  “Oh really? Did you check on him?”

  “No, his doctor called and says he just needs a little bed rest. High blood pressure, not another heart attack. He’ll be home tomorrow.” She sounded downright crestfallen at her spouse’s encouraging prognosis.

  “Well, that’s good news,” I mumbled, cutting off the conversation and heading towards the den.

  Max was already snooping in the large, drafty room when I arrived. “Hey Luna. Feeling better after all that grub?”

  “Much better. Aren’t you supposed to be tackling the servant quarters now?”

  He grinned at me. “Sorry, I’m on your territory now, aren’t I? I’ll go upstairs and you see what you can find here. So far, this day has been nothing more than a wild goose chase, though.”

  “I know. Either these people have hidden their secrets very well or we’re barking up the wrong tree,” I mused.

  “All the more reason to find Rhett tonight,” Max said. “Let’s make that a priority. We can always come back again tomorrow and do a second round of searching.”

  “Okay, so let’s try to finish up in the next few hours?” I estimated as Max nodded.

  “Yes. Then it’s off to all the seedy motels and shabby YMCA’s in the area.”

  “Sounds fun!” I said with irony.

  “Almost too much fun! It should be illegal!” He cackled as I replied with a giggle.

  “Good luck,” I offered as he walked out of the room.

  “Thanks. I think we’re both going to need it,” he quipped.

  Three hours later, I had searched, dug, pondered, analyzed, theorized, conjectured, and ruminated until I thought my brain would go numb. And not a single nugget had resulted from my detailed inquest. One look at Max’s face as we reunited on the front lawn and I knew that his search had been just as fruitless.

  “Empty-handed,” He muttered, cupping his palms open to demonstrate.

  “Same here,” I agreed gloomily.

  “I did get to question Chef Gregory, though. He wouldn’t admit to locking you in the room. In fact, he wouldn’t say much at all.”

  “He’s a man of few words,” I said derisively. “Let’s go find Rhett now. We can surprise everyone at the mansion tomorrow bright and early. They’ll all be half conscious if we show up around 5 am.”

  “Why not 4 am? We can pull an all-nighter,” Max persuaded.

&
nbsp; “Yeah, I think that’s the only way. I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless we at least make some headway in this maddening case.”

  “Me neither,” Max concurred.

  Riding together in the “company car,” we kept small talk to a minimum and focused on the monumental task at hand. Tracking down Rhett Wagon was somewhat similar to pulling a needle from a haystack. “Rhode Island is the smallest state in the country,” I grumbled as we combed through an extensive list of motels. “This should be easier.”

  “Well, at least we know where not to look,” Max said optimistically. “There aren’t any motels in the Miltons’ posh neighborhood.”

  “Or even anywhere close,” I said with a spark of hope. “All there is around here are seafood restaurants and exclusive golf clubs.”

  “Why don’t we just randomly start calling motels in surrounding towns and ask them to check their registry? It would be ridiculous for us to visit every motel.”

  “Okay, we’ll both call. You take the first half of the alphabet and I’ll take the second half.”

  I lost count of the hours---and the motels---as we meticulously phoned every possible lead. My voice was hoarse by the time we decided to broaden our range to a 50 mile radius. Reasoning that the wayward butler could have taken a bus out of town, we zeroed in on the capital city of Providence, which offered numerous cheap places to stay.

  “Eureka!” I shouted triumphantly as I disconnected my umpteenth call.

  “You found him?” Max asked breathlessly. “Don’t toy with me, Luna!”

  “He’s in Providence at the Blue Shade Inn!” I announced excitedly as Max threw the car into reverse and headed towards the highway.

  “Awesome!” Max exclaimed on a rush of adrenaline.

  Located 30 miles northwest of Newport, the city of Providence was congested with traffic and people. On our way to the motel, we passed some of the city’s iconic schools like Ivy League Brown University and the esteemed Rhode Island School of Design. My career kept me trapped in Newport most of the time, so even this little escapade was a welcome change of pace. Providence didn’t have the shimmering coastline and stately mansions of Newport, but it had something even better: Rhett Wagon served to us on a silver platter.