by Carolyn Hart
Geoff hurried to her, took her in his arms. He glared at Frank. “She’s too upset to make her stay. Let me take her upstairs.”
Hal Porter moved restively on the bench. He shot a sharp look at Rhoda, his tough face folded in a frown. Annie thought he wouldn’t have much patience with women who couldn’t cope.
Saulter frowned at Geoff. “I need for you to remain here.” Saulter looked around the room. His eyes fastened on Annie. “Annie, will you go upstairs with Mrs. Grant? Officer Harrison can come up and speak with her.”
Annie dipped a washcloth in cold water. Rhoda lay propped up on two pillows. Tears streamed unchecked down her face. She lay with her hands open and limp, her body sagging heavily, her makeup smeared, her facial muscles flaccid.
“The cool cloth will help.” Annie handed it to Rhoda. In happier days, the bedroom was cheerful and light with flower-patterned lilac drapes and comfortably sized easy chairs in pale lemon. Annie looked toward the windows. Would it be better to draw the blinds, make the room dim and quiet? Or was the splash of sunshine across the hardwood floors cheering?
Rhoda held the cloth to her face. “I can’t bear it.” Her voice was muffled, her tone bereft. “I asked her to go with me this morning. She said she couldn’t, she had to see some people. She was fine. Everything was fine. If she’d come…If I hadn’t gone…” A fresh paroxysm of weeping shook her.
Annie felt helpless. Should she offer another cloth? Call Rhoda’s doctor? A brisk knock sounded and the door opened. Officer Harrison stepped inside. “I’ll have a word with Mrs. Grant. If you’d like to go downstairs, Mrs. Darling, you may do so. Please wait in the library.”
Annie moved toward the door.
Rhoda called after her. “Don’t go. It’s all right if she stays, isn’t it? She’s been nice.”
Annie heard a plea for support. She looked at the policewoman.
Harrison nodded. “Whatever you wish, Mrs. Grant. I have only a few questions.”
Annie moved back to the bedside.
“About Denise?” Rhoda’s voice shook.
Harrison came nearer. “I understand she was a special friend—”
Rhoda’s face crumpled. She held the washcloth against her eyes.
“—so I’ll be brief.” Harrison’s voice was gentle. “Am I correct that you left the island on the eight-thirty ferry?”
Rhoda took a deep breath, smoothed the cloth over her face. She pulled herself into a sitting position, held the cloth tight in her hands, and stared at Harrison with misery in her eyes. “I took the eight-thirty ferry.”
Harrison was brisk. “When did you return to the island?”
“On the ten-thirty ferry.” Her voice quivered. “I wanted to get away for a while. I went to Chastain and did the antique shops on Ephraim Street. I didn’t even buy anything. I thought I’d feel better if I had a little while alone.” She held tight to the damp cloth. “What happened to Denise?”
Harrison’s look was bleak. “She suffered fatal head trauma when she was repeatedly struck by a baseball bat sometime this morning between nine a.m. when she spoke on the telephone—”
Annie remembered Max’s lighthearted conversation with Denise.
“—and ten a.m. when her body was discovered. When did you last see her?”
Rhoda’s splotched face made her look old and defeated. “This morning on my way to the ferry.” Her voice was dull. “I had coffee with her. I asked her to come with me. She said she was busy.”
“What was her demeanor?” Harrison looked hopeful.
Rhoda’s eyes filled with tears. “She was her usual self.”
Harrison frowned. “She didn’t indicate fear or worry of any kind or suggest she had information that might connect a member of the family to the murder of Gwen Jamison?”
Rhoda hunched her shoulders. “The last thing she told me was that she was sure no one in the family had done anything wrong.” She bowed her head. “She hugged me and I left.”
Harrison looked disappointed. Obviously, she had hoped for more. She gave a quick nod. “Thank you, Mrs. Grant. Mrs. Darling’s presence is now required downstairs. I will send your husband up to be with you as soon as possible.”
“It’s all right.” Rhoda’s voice was muffled as she turned against the pillow. “Nothing can make any difference.”
When Annie and Officer Harrison entered the library, Annie hurried to join Max. He gave her hand a squeeze.
Geoff’s blue eyes were anxious. “Is Rhoda all right?”
“She’s resting.” Annie knew it was inadequate.
Harrison stood beside Saulter, conferred for a moment in a low voice. He nodded and walked swiftly out of the room. He left open the door into the central hall.
Harrison folded her arms. “Denise Cramer was murdered between nine and ten a.m. this morning in her cottage which is on the grounds of this property. It is necessary to determine the whereabouts at that time of everyone in proximity of the crime.” She flipped open a notebook. “Does anyone have information relating to the crime?”
No one moved or spoke.
Annie looked curiously at Ben. Yesterday he would have objected. Now he held Barb’s hand, his face drawn in a tight frown. Annie’s gaze swung to Justin. Yesterday he would have sneered and snarled. Now his vivid red hair and mustache emphasized the paleness of his face, the empty stare in his green eyes.
“Very well. Let’s start with you, Mr. Grant.” Harrison looked at Geoff. “Your whereabouts between nine and ten a.m.?”
Geoff sat forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “I was working in my study. I was there until I heard the siren.”
Harrison pointed. “Ben Travis-Grant.”
Ben gave his sister a reassuring smile, released her hand. “I don’t pay a lot of attention to time. I went out for a jog. I suppose I came back a little while before ten. I was heading upstairs for a shower when I heard the siren.”
Harrison’s gaze was intent. “Where did you jog?”
Ben made an indeterminate gesture. “I took the path, went over to Calliope Lane, came around by the road and down the front drive.”
“Did you see Denise Cramer?”
Ben leaned back, folded his arms. He looked uncertain.
Harrison took a step forward. “Did you or did you not see her, Mr. Travis-Grant?”
Ben looked grim. “I did not see her.”
Harrison stared at him for a moment, her gaze suspicious, then turned to Barb.
“Miss Travis-Grant?”
Barb licked her lips. She had a hunted look. “I was in my room the whole time. I didn’t see Denise.” She sagged back against her chair.
“I saw him.” Margaret’s voice was higher than usual, but steady and determined.
Harrison looked toward her. “Saw whom?”
Margaret stared at Ben with icy blue eyes. “Ben was at the back door of the cottage. I was standing at my window, brushing my hair, and thinking about Wednesday. I didn’t look out that morning. It was foggy. But today was beautiful. I saw him.”
Ben’s face closed down, his expression became smooth and impenetrable as marble.
Harrison took another step toward him. “Were you at the cottage door?”
Ben hunched his shoulders. “I knocked and there wasn’t any answer. I waited a minute and knocked again. I did not go inside.”
“You didn’t mention this earlier.” Harrison’s voice was stern.
Ben moved uncomfortably. “What was the point? I don’t know anything. All I can tell you is I knocked on the door and there wasn’t any answer. I’d just got back from my jog, and I wanted to talk to Denise. When she didn’t come to the door, I went in the house. That’s all I know.”
Harrison wrote swiftly in her notebook. “Miss Brown, what time did you see Mr. Travis-Grant at the door to the cottage?”
Margaret looked uncertain. “I didn’t notice the time. I wasn’t in any hurry to come downstairs. After I brushed my hair, I decided to do my finger
nails. I had to let them dry. I hadn’t dressed when the siren sounded. I looked out and decided to stay in my room.” Her tone implied that her world held no place for police and whatever the excitement, it was of no interest to her.
Kerry jumped up from the ottoman. Her face was flushed. “I took a walk this morning, too, and I saw Ben go up to the cottage and knock on the door. He did just as he said. He knocked several times, then he turned and left.”
Annie didn’t think a single person in the room believed Kerry.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t speak up when Mr. Ben Travis-Grant failed to mention his visit to the cottage.”
Kerry lifted her chin. Her soft black hair swirled around her face. “I was waiting until my turn.”
Harrison looked sardonic. “Yes, indeed. You claim that you went for a walk?”
“I went for a walk.” Kerry’s tone was sharp.
“Where?” Harrison held her pen above the notepad.
Kerry glanced across the room at Annie and Max. “Their house. I was curious to see it. It used to be an old dump when we were kids. They’ve made it beautiful again. Gwen had lots of stories about when she was the housekeeper there.” Her stare was defiant. “I went up and tried the door. It was locked. I was going to see if I could figure out where Gwen hid the coins.”
Max’s expression was wry. “You’re welcome to come and look. We’ve searched everywhere.”
Harrison studied Kerry. “If you went to the Franklin house—”
“I did.”
“—and returned here, how did you have occasion to see Mr. Ben Grant at the back door of the cottage?”
Kerry stiffened. “I saw him when I came back.”
“You came straight back from the Franklin house and came inside here?”
Slowly Kerry nodded, her violet eyes wary.
Harrison had the air of a teacher writing an equation on the board. “The Franklin house is directly south of the Grant house. The cottage sits approximately forty yards to the northwest of this house. The back door of the cottage is not visible on the walk from the Franklin house to here.”
Kerry’s eyes were brilliant. “I was enjoying being outside. I came past the house and in the front door. I saw Ben when I came up on the porch.”
Harrison turned toward Ben. “Can you confirm Miss Kerry Foster-Grant’s claim.”
“I didn’t see her.” His voice was toneless, but his eyes were soft.
Harrison glanced at her notes. “Mr. Justin Foster-Grant?”
Justin was brief. “I was in my room until I heard the siren. I did not see Denise today.”
Harrison walked to Annie and Max. “Mr. and Mrs. Darling, you discovered Mrs. Cramer’s body. Did you see anyone near the cottage?”
Max answered for them. “No one.”
Justin cracked the knuckles of one hand. “Our ever-present neighbors again. What business did you have with Denise?”
Max was somber. “I wanted to ask who she saw Wednesday morning on the path to Gwen Jamison’s. I was too late.”
There was no sharp denial. Instead the silence was filled with foreboding.
Harrison looked toward Hal Porter.
Hal sat with his arms folded, booted feet solidly planted. He had the air of a man constrained to be present, but clearly he considered himself an unwilling onlooker. At Harrison’s glance, he spoke up. “Look, I don’t know these people. I’m a handyman in the winter. I’d never spoken with the lady who got killed. I don’t know anything that will help. I was working on the east side of the main house, cutting wood for an arbor that Mrs. Grant ordered. I wasn’t paying any attention to people coming and going.” He stood. “So if it’s the same to you, I’d like to get back to work.”
Harrison held up a hand. “We are almost done, Mr. Porter. Please remain until we finish.”
Hal looked irritated, but he sat down.
Harrison flipped her notebook shut. “I want to ask if anyone can identify two objects taken from the crime scene. Chief Saulter?”
Frank entered through the hall door. He moved to the center of the room.
There were quick indrawn breaths, a gasp, a shrill cry. Barb clutched at her throat.
Annie steeled herself against horror. Max reached out to take her hand.
A baseball bat dangled from Saulter’s hand. He held an inch-wide band of rubber that was wrapped around the thinnest portion of the shaft. Blood smeared the white ash. Portions of hair clumped near the end.
Geoff came to his feet, his hands clenched. “No one should be asked to look at this.”
Barb buried her face in her hands.
Justin came to his feet. His voice was hoarse. “That’s my bat. I burned my initials on it when I was a kid. Mid-shaft.”
A crooked letter J was clearly visible.
Justin looked frightened. “I haven’t seen it in years.”
Annie averted her eyes. The bat was dreadful, as Geoff had said. She tried hard not to picture Denise’s cheery face and hear her buoyant voice. How terrible to be hurt and, worse, to back away helpless from someone known and loved.
Geoff tried to keep his voice steady. “There’s a lot of sports equipment in the garage. Anyone could have taken it. We don’t lock the garage.”
Harrison looked toward the hall. “Officer Thorpe?”
Every face turned toward the door. They waited, eyes staring, bodies rigid.
Thorpe gripped a four-foot square of cardboard. He held it as he would a plate. He carried the cardboard and its grisly burden to the middle of the room and carefully placed it on the floor. With a plastic-gloved hand, he reached down and lifted up a crumpled tan plastic poncho that looked as though handfuls of blood had been flung against it.
Geoff came slowly forward. He stared at the poncho. “That’s Rhoda’s. She keeps it hanging on a hook in the garage.”
Chapter 16
Annie opened the microwave, lifted out a paper plate with steaming chicken tamales. Mixed veggies, nachos, and mango-pineapple salsa completed the menu. They stood by the food island since the tall stools had yet to be delivered.
Max used his plastic fork to spear a chunk of tamale. “How can you defend Ben?” He tapped his fork against his plate, ticking off his points. “He can’t seem to hold a steady job.” He grinned. “Not that a casual attitude toward work is bad.”
Annie grinned in return. Max was capable of intense effort. On occasion. However, he insisted that work should never take precedence over living and loving. Especially the latter.
Max added a spoonful of salsa. “Ben sneers at convention. He was out of his room Monday night. He asked Geoff for money and was turned down. He was seen on the murdered woman’s back porch.”
Annie spooned more salsa over the nachos. She and Max had been wrangling all evening, Max insisting that Ben Travis-Grant was the prime suspect, Annie stubbornly disagreeing.
She munched a nacho, said indistinctly, “If he were the murderer, he’d never admit he went to Denise’s cottage.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “If you recall, he didn’t admit it until Margaret Brown said she’d seen him. He had no choice.”
Annie shrugged that away. “All he had to do was say she was mistaken, his word against hers.”
Max lifted his Dr Pepper bottle. “What about Kerry?”
Annie did her best to balance mixed veggies on the plastic fork. “She didn’t see Ben.” Annie looked at Max with suddenly doleful eyes. “That’s why I don’t want it to be him.”
Max looked bewildered. “Because Kerry didn’t see him?”
“Kerry loves him.” Annie’s voice was sad. “She’s such a good person.”
“Not,” Max said dryly, “apparently an always truthful person.”
“Oh, it was true. True in her heart.”
Max put down his fork. “You are beginning to sound a lot like my mother.”
Annie looked at him in dismay, then saw the smile tugging at his lips.
“Laurel would understand.�
�� Annie pictured Laurel with her glorious golden hair and patrician features and empathetic blue eyes. “Laurel knows all about love. She understands how people care. Kerry wouldn’t even think it was a lie because she believes in Ben. She knows if he said he was on the back porch and didn’t go inside, every word was true, and so she decided to say she saw him and that would make him safe. It matters terribly to her that Ben be safe.”
Max took a last bite of tamale. “Then I’m sorry for her. I think he was lying.” He stood and moved to the counter. “Do you want a brownie or raspberry sorbet?”
“Both.” The answer was quick and automatic.
Max topped the brownie with sorbet, placed the dish on the food island. “It’s almost Ben by default. We know the murderer is a member of the family. Gwen made that clear. When you look at the family, what do you see? Geoff’s got some money problems, but he doesn’t seem greedy. Justin’s a jerk, but he’s not stupid. He’d never use his own bat as a weapon. That garage has to be full of stuff that could be used as a weapon, golf clubs, an ax, hockey sticks, probably a stack of old bricks. So much for Justin. As for his fiancée, she has all the charm of an anaconda, but I can’t picture her draped in a poncho and wielding a bat. Ditto for Kerry and Barb. That leaves”—he gurgled the rest of his Dr Pepper—“Ben. Case closed.”
As they cleared up, Annie was silent. Max had logic on his side. All she had was a feeling that a woman with Kerry’s heart wouldn’t be deceived, that if she saw worth, worth was there.
Annie dumped the last paper plate into a black plastic trash bag, determined to push away all thoughts of the Grant family. Let Officer Harrison handle the investigation. There was nothing more she and Max could do. She held the bag open for the cardboard dessert bowls. “Maybe we should go to paper plates after we move in. Look how quickly we cleared up.”
Max swiped the food island with a damp dishcloth. “Not on my watch.” He sounded firm. “Food needs proper presentation.”
For an instant, Annie felt lighthearted. This was her familiar world. Oh, they were only camping out in their home-to-be, but Max was here and that was all she ever needed to be happy. She smiled at him. If she had to be trapped in an unfurnished house that attracted too much stealthy attention, it was lovely to be trapped with Max. Her moment of happiness lasted until she looked toward the uncurtained kitchen windows. Annie kept her smile bright, but she was acutely aware of the night.
