“Took off how? Your car isn’t here and your aunt’s truck is still outside. Did she have her own car?”
“No. I guess she must’ve walked.”
“If she walked, why didn’t the Duck officers see her?” Claire asked sharply. “They came up that road only a few minutes later. They would’ve noticed if they’d seen a lone woman walking along.”
The same question had occurred to Lindsay, but she had no answer. There were trees and bushes along the road in some places, but this time of year, they were mostly bare of leaves. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture her mother—wearing high heeled boots and dragging a suitcase—diving into the undergrowth for cover as police cars bore down on her. “I don’t know. Aunt Harding’s was the only vehicle that was here.”
The front door swung open, giving Lindsay a temporary respite from the increasingly insistent line of questioning. The older officer from the Duck police entered, accompanied by Wynn Butterworth. The elderly man leaned heavily on an elaborately-carved walking stick. In his free hand, he carried a large brown leather bag of the type that old-fashioned country doctors were known to use. Butterworth was at least 50 pounds overweight, and he puffed with the effort of climbing the small set of stairs that led up to the front porch. His eyes immediately locked on Lindsay.
“Well, you must be Little Miss Lindsay, all grown up,” he began. “I remember seeing you around when you was just a tiny, little thing. Have to say, you got your mama’s good looks. I’d’ve almost reckoned that that was a young Sarabelle Harding sitting there by the fire.” Even after many decades of living in Duck, his High Tide brogue hadn’t been altered in the slightest. For him, “fire” was “foyer” and “sitting there” was a single word— “settinehr.” A neatly-trimmed goatee sat in the middle of Wynn Butterworth’s oval-shaped head, giving him the appearance of a bearded egg. If he’d been a Midwesterner, people might have remarked on how pale and unwrinkled his skin was for someone nearing his ninth decade of life. However, for an Outer Banks native to have such a smooth, white complexion at any age made him practically a freak of nature.
Warren emerged from the dining area to greet the elderly man. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Butterworth. We hate to interrupt your family’s Christmas like this.”
“Least I can do. Patty was an old friend. I’ve known her since the War.” He gave a sad-eyed smile. “That’s World War II, for the young’uns.”
“You mentioned Sarabelle Harding,” Claire cut in. “In what capacity do you know her?”
“Know?” Butterworth said. “Knew, more like. Back when she was first going with Patty’s nephew, they used to come out here now and again. That was years and years ago. Then again, when you get to be my age, most things were years and years ago.”
“So you haven’t seen her lately?” Claire asked.
“Can’t say that I have, ma’am. One of my customers said she thought she saw her working at the Food Lion, but I told her that she must be mistaken. No way a woman like that would end up frosting cupcakes at the Food Lion! That Sarabelle was a real beauty. Local boys’d snap their necks trying to get a look at her. From what I heard, she was nearly as wild as Patty was back in her own day.”
“Aunt Harding was wild?” Lindsay asked. It felt alien to hear her family history discussed in such a natural, affable way. Aunt Harding had never told stories from her past unless they were specifically calibrated to demonstrate how modern society was going to the dogs. Believing that Patricia Harding used to be wild was almost as hard as believing that she used to be young.
“Oh Lord, yes! Patty and Simmy Bennett was two regular firecrackers. Simmy was the life and soul of every party, and Patty was always right there beside her. From the time she was 13, your Aunt Patty could outdrink an oysterman. I know y’all must be in a state of mourning right now, but you should come on by my store when you’re feelin’ up to it, Miss Lindsay. I’ll tell you a story or two.” He smiled sympathetically at her and then looked around the room. “Old place looks pretty much the same as ever. I expect that the gun safe is still over yonder—don’t reckon anybody could’ve moved that beast. Her daddy bought it years and years ago. I heard that he spent two month’s wages on it and it took six men to load it into a rowboat and bring it across the Sound.” As he spoke, he worked his way over to the safe, relying heavily on his cane. To Warren he said, “Son, could you pull up one of them chairs for me? I’m mommucked. These old legs don’t jig like they used to.”
Butterworth began the process of sitting in the chair. It was a complicated operation that seemed to involve a good deal of mental and physical preparation. When he was finally settled, he opened his leather satchel. He balanced a pad of paper and pencil on one knee and put a stethoscope over his ears. “Would y’all mind clearing out of here? I need to listen to what this old gal here says to me. That’s gonna be hard enough without y’all shuffling around in here like deacons at a funeral.”
“Why don’t we get you to the hotel?” Claire said quietly, taking Lindsay to one side. “We can finish this later. I’m sure you’re tired. Please call me immediately if you hear anything from your mother, or if you think of anything that could be important.”
“You make sure you stop by my store, now,” Butterworth called as Lindsay moved toward the door. To the police assembled around them, the invitation sounded like the friendly request of a lonely old man. However, as Butterworth’s incisive gaze locked on Lindsay, she was certain that he was issuing her with a summons.
Chapter 13
Lindsay had phoned Anna on her way to the Sandpiper. She briefly filled her in on the circumstances surrounding her aunt’s death and on her need to find alternative accommodation. When Officer Short, who had been tasked with dropping her off at the hotel, pulled up, Anna and Drew were waiting at the front entrance. Drew rushed to help Lindsay carry her luggage inside while Anna put her arm around Lindsay’s shoulder and guided her into the hotel’s impressive lobby. A massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, festooned with red ribbons and white lights. Evergreen garlands wound around the first-floor balcony that overlooked the reception area. From a bank of skylights overhead, shafts of sunlight streamed into the open room. The morning’s rain had cleared. Following her grim discovery, Lindsay had completely forgotten that it was Christmas. Now she felt as if she had walked out of a horror story and into a fairytale.
“I’m so sorry to show up like this. I feel like I’m a big black cloud coming to rain on your parade.” Tears formed in Lindsay’s eyes as she spoke. She had grown up feeling that her life’s many misfortunes were a contagion. She’d spent years avoiding friendships, avoiding love, out of fear that her curse would spread to others. And now, here she was, bringing a gruesome murder along to her friend’s wedding.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Drew said. He put his hand on her back and smiled kindly. Like Anna, Drew was tall and good-looking. In contrast to Anna’s casual beauty, though, Drew always seemed meticulously put together. His black hair glistened with an expensive-smelling hair product, and his outfit, a striped, button-down shirt worn under a thin gray cardigan, seemed carefully chosen to transmit the message that he was a successful groom-to-be: relaxed, on vacation, and at ease in the world.
For her part, Lindsay hadn’t showered in two days and looked like she had been dragged down the beach from Corolla by her hair. Wind-blown sand coated her like a second skin. Suddenly very aware that she was only five feet tall, Lindsay craned her neck as she spoke to the two of them. “Thanks, guys. I’m kind of a wreck.”
“We’re so sorry about what happened. We’ll have you feeling better in no time,” Anna said. “Don’t worry about a thing. The hotel is all booked up for the next couple days, but my mother said you can stay with her. She has an extra bed in her room. We didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be alone anyway.” Lindsay noted how Anna, for the first time, had stopped speaking like a single person. Now “we,” rather than “I,” came up with the ideas.
“You know, it’s really nice that y’all arranged this, but I’m not sure I’m up to sharing a room with a stranger.”
“You won’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. My mother’s under strict instructions not to bring up what happened to your aunt unless you want to talk about it,” Anna said. “We want you to have some time to regroup.”
Lindsay shook her head uncertainly. “Still, I don’t know if I can handle the company.”
“Maybe having her share with my mom wasn’t such a great idea,” Anna said, casting a worried glance at Drew. “Emotional sensitivity isn’t her strong suit.”
“It’ll be great,” he reassured her. Turning to Lindsay, he said, “We really think this is the best thing for you. Anna’s mom is really…upbeat. You’ll see. It’ll do you some good to have company,” Drew said, with his usual assurance. His unwavering positivity and self-confidence were, without a doubt, huge assets for his work as a brain surgeon. These qualities had attracted Anna, who, despite her veneer of effortless perfection, was secretly prone to bouts of crippling worry and insecurity. They were also, without a doubt, the main reasons why Lindsay had decided she couldn’t date him. She was never one to swallow proclamations issued from above, especially from a man whose capacity for optimism rivaled that of a Disney princess.
“Oh, there she is now. She said she’d meet us down here,” Anna said. A stunning blonde-haired woman was crossing the lobby towards them. Lindsay knew that she must be at least in her mid 60’s, but, like Anna, she had a chiseled beauty that defied age.
“You must be Lindsay,” the woman said, extending her manicured hand like she was offering something of great value. “I’m Anna’s mother, Lindsey Stark. Lindsey, with an ‘E.’ Isn’t that funny?” Lindsey-with-an-E’s ringing laughter echoed off the walls with such force that Lindsay felt like it might shake the needles from the Christmas wreaths. She wore an elegant red wrap shirt and black trousers. On a lesser woman, her high-volume, multi-layered hairstyle would’ve looked like a truck driver’s mullet, but on her it looked sophisticated and glamorous.
“My mother just flew in this morning,” Anna said.
“How’s Paris?” Lindsay asked. She remembered that Anna’s mother appraised fine art for a living and lived in the French capital.
“I’m in Brussels now for a few months. Preparing a collection to be auctioned at Christie’s next month. Gorgeous pieces. Some exquisite pre-Raphaelite paintings.”
“We’re lucky they could spare you,” Drew said amiably.
Lindsey-with-an-E turned the full force of her high-wattage smile on the couple. “How could I miss your wedding?! I’d say it only happens once in a lifetime, but in Anna’s case, we know it’s at least twice.” Another sonic boom of laughter erupted from her lipsticked mouth. “I simply can’t get over what a handsome couple you make.” Lindsey-with-an-E ran her hand down Drew’s arm as she lingered on the word “handsome.” She then turned her fluorescent smile back to Lindsay. “A few of us are meeting for lunch and a few drinkies in the restaurant in a little while. Have you eaten? They have the most amazing chimichurri grilled scallops here. And my own mother was Argentinean, so I know that of which I speak.” Anna’s mother tossed her head back and laughed again. Her glistening teeth and corona of blonde hair made her look like a lion in full roar. “Well, come on, let’s get you settled in, Lindsay.” She paused, as if deep in thought. “You know, it’s odd calling someone else by my name. People might get confused. Do you have a nickname or something that we could all call you?”
“No. I’ve always just been called Lindsay.”
“What about ‘Little Lindsay’?”
“Little Lindsay?” Lindsay repeated.
“You know, because you’re so petite? I mean you really are absolutely adorable, like a little Christmas elf. I just want to pick you up and put you on that Christmas tree.”
The taller woman looked at her with such undisguised supremacy that Lindsay feared that she might actually follow through with it. She reflexively braced herself, preparing to be flung into the greenery. However, another boom of the woman’s paint-stripping laughter broke the momentary tension.
“Little Lindsay,” Drew smiled along. “That’s great!”
“I know!” Anna’s mother screeched.
“Okay, Mom.” Anna patted her hands on the air in front of her, trying to signal her mother to tone things down. “Remember what we talked about? Lindsay’s been through a lot today. She needs to relax.”
Anna’s mother nodded her head gravely and put her index finger to her lips. “Of course, of course. Mum’s the word on all that.” She gave Lindsay’s arm a sympathetic pat. “I’m sure that was absolutely appalling for you, dear. It’s a good idea not to dwell on such gruesome things. After all, we’re here for a wedding. And it’s Christmas for heaven’s sake! What you need is to get your mind off of it. Right?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “This is going to be an absolute riot! I haven’t had a roomie since I was at Vassar. Who knows what naughty things we girls might get up to?” As she spoke, she tipped her head flirtatiously towards Drew. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed “Little” Lindsay by the elbow and led her along the corridor.
###
Only after promising to join the wedding party later for Christmas “drinkies” in the bar had Lindsay managed to convince her new roommate to go to lunch without her. Following a nap, a shower, and an outfit change, Lindsay began to feel more like herself. Her recovery was helped by the fact that Lindsey-with-an-E had clearly secured one of the nicest rooms in the hotel. French doors opened onto a large private deck with steps that went down to the hotel’s pool and along a private boardwalk to the ocean. Despite the chilly weather, Lindsay cracked one of the doors open so she could listen to the whispering of the ocean. She was just pinning the last of her unruly curls away from her face when she heard a sharp knock on the door. She crossed the room and pulled it open.
“Did you even look through the peephole? I could’ve been anybody,” Warren chastised. Kipper, with tail wagging, stood at Warren’s side.
“But you were you, so everything’s fine,” Lindsay said smiling wanly.
Warren pushed past her into the room and shut the door hard behind him. He was carrying a small cardboard box, which he deposited with a thump on the dresser next to the TV. “What is it going to take for you to start taking care of yourself? What’s wrong with you?” The normally unflappable Warren was quite clearly flapped.
“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you? After all that’s happened today, you come storming in here with all guns blazing yelling at me about peepholes? What’s this all about?”
“Claire told me about her interview with you. Why didn’t you tell me that Sarabelle was staying out there with you? You could have at least mentioned it this morning before Claire and I headed out to the crime scene! You made me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone.”
“What? Here I thought you’d come over to check on me, seeing as how I found my aunt’s dead body earlier today and now I’m stuck here in a hotel full of strangers.”
Where other people’s faces went red with anger, Warren’s drained entirely of color, save for two crimson circles that formed in the middle of his cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry that you have to stay at a luxury resort while I’m out trying to explain to my colleagues why I didn’t know my girlfriend was staying in a house with her convicted criminal mother and her aunt, who was wanted for questioning in connection with a murder. Both of whom, I might add, have had recent contact with the prime suspect in an ongoing investigation.”
“If you thought my aunt was so dangerous, why did you let me spend the night there last night?” Lindsay replied.
“The connection between your aunt and Swoopes wasn’t positively confirmed until this morning. Maybe we could’ve figured the link out quicker if you’d told me about Sarabelle. I didn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t want to worry you until I kne
w for definite.”
“Once again you hide things from me like I’m a baby.”
“Me hide things from you? Because of you, a convicted criminal, who I’d very much like to have questioned, escaped right out from under me. You’re hiding Lord knows what else from me while I’m out there covering for you.” He glanced out the French doors and across the wide wooden deck. “Poor little Lindsay stuck here with her ocean view.”
“Don’t call me Little Lindsay.”
“Why didn’t you try to stop her from getting away? For all we know, she could have killed your aunt.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t stop her. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Besides, she was completely shocked when I told her about Aunt Harding. And she seemed terrified. Even Sarabelle isn’t that good an actress. I have no illusions about what kind of person she is, but she’s definitely not a killer,” Lindsay said with authoritative shake of her head. “No way.”
Kipper whimpered, looking from Warren to Lindsay and back again, unsure where his loyalties lay. Noticing his distress, Lindsay leaned over and petted his head. “It’s okay, Kipper.”
“His name is Paul. One of your criminal womenfolk stole him from my sister, remember?” Warren rested his balled fists on his hips and glared at her.
Lindsay had never seen Warren so angry. Usually, if he was annoyed or upset about something, he became deathly quiet. She wondered why he’d had to choose today of all days to finally explode. Why hadn’t she just told him sooner about Sarabelle?! Had the opportunity really not arisen, or had she been held back by some misguided sense of loyalty to her mother? That woman’s mere existence was enough to cause chaos.
Lindsay moved in front of Warren and put her hand on his chest. “Calm down, okay? I wasn’t trying to lie to you about Sarabelle. I had no idea that she was staying with Aunt Harding until I walked in the door last night. And you must know I had no inkling whatsoever that Aunt Harding was supplying Leander Swoopes with guns or about Kipper belonging to your sister. I can’t help who I’m related to.” She sank down on the edge of her bed. “You include me in your cases when it suits you—when you need somebody to bounce ideas off of and you know I’ll help you. But sometimes I don’t know if I’m supposed to be your deputy or your girlfriend.”
A Death in Duck: Lindsay Harding Cozy Mystery Series (Reverend Lindsay Harding Mystery Book 2) Page 11
