I did as instructed, saying, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Lennon. I’m Jessica Fletcher. I came to offer my condolences.”
“The name is familiar. Maybe Joseph spoke of you.” She had a slight foreign accent, although I couldn’t place it.
“We had met on several occasions,” I said. “I was sorry to learn of his death.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Please call me Jessica.”
“And I’m Denise.” She squinted at me. “Jessica Fletcher, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Would you be J. B. Fletcher, the author?”
I smiled. “I would.”
Her face brightened. “I think I’ve read every one of your books, J. B. Fletcher. My favorite is The Corpse Was a Comrade.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.”
“No, no. It’s kind of you to come, Jessica. I’m very touched.” Her face fell. “Joseph’s death was a great shock to me. I would never have expected it. It is supposed to be so safe in America. In my country, they wouldn’t let a man go around threatening someone, but here . . .” She shrugged.
“I hope you won’t think me rude if I ask where your country is,” I said.
“Not at all. I’m from what used to be Rhodesia and what is now Zimbabwe. My ancestors were Portuguese and British and Ndebele. Like many native Africans, I am a mixture of many peoples.”
“How interesting. Do you get to go back often?”
“Not often, but every now and then. We were there only a few weeks ago. Joseph loved Africa.”
“Is that where you met your husband?”
“Yes.” She looked up at the animal heads that were mounted on the wall. “My family led safari tours, and Joseph was one of our clients.” She chuckled softly. “He didn’t kill all these, if that’s what you’re thinking. I bought them from a company in New York. When we moved into this house, I wanted a room to remind him of me when I wasn’t here. It’s a bit over the top, no? But he likes to entertain in here.” She stopped, realizing she’d spoken in the present tense. “It’s going to take me some time to remember he’s gone.”
“I’m sorry I hadn’t had an opportunity to meet you before,” I said, “but I understand you were out of town. When did you get in?”
“Joseph wanted me to come for the fireworks—he was very proud that he was able to get that famous family to do the show—so I flew in on the Fourth from Vancouver. We have a home there.”
“Were you at the fireworks? I saw your husband. Cynthia Welch introduced him. I would have thought she would introduce you, too.”
She made a face at the mention of Ms. Welch’s name. “No, I missed them,” she said. “I had a migraine when we landed—traveling gives me terrible headaches—so I called Joseph and told him I’d meet him at home, and had the flight crew drop me off here. I went to bed early. Now I’m thinking that if only I’d gone to the fireworks, I might have kept Joseph by my side, or made him take me home early. None of this would have happened.”
She was right, of course. Most incidents in our lives hinge on a matter of seconds. We move in one direction rather than another, and everything shifts. I thought of the attempted mugging from the other night and the attack on Seth, and how if we’d gotten in the car right away rather than standing outside the restaurant chatting, Seth might never have been injured. Then again, we might have been accosted anyway, and it could have been worse. He might have been killed. Each decision we make, each road we take, leaves another road not taken, as in the final line of the famous poem by Robert Frost that I used to teach in my English class.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself,” I said. “There was no way for you to know what would happen.”
“No, I don’t blame myself. I just think about what might have been.” She was silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “Do you know you’re one of only a few people from Cabot Cove who’ve come to see us, aside from the people who work for us?”
“I’m surprised to hear that,” I said, wondering whether the mayor and members of the town council had stopped by to express their sympathies, or anyone from the other institutions in Cabot Cove that had benefited from Joseph Lennon’s contributions. And if not, why not?
“I’m not surprised. Joseph was an aggressive business-man. He thought if he invested a lot of money in the towns where he set up his companies that would be enough to buy people’s loyalty, to get them to forget whatever inconveniences a new business brings. Everywhere we had an office, he’d woo the politicians and the citizens, dazzle them with his money, support the local causes, get interviewed by reporters. Frankly, I think he liked the fuss, enjoyed being the center of attention. I warned him that everyone might not take to his style. But of course he didn’t listen. And now, unfortunately, I’ve been proved right.”
“Did your husband have any enemies that you know of?” I asked.
“That’s funny,” she said, giving me a small smile. “There was a sheriff here who asked the same question. And I’ll give you the same answer I gave him. Not that I know of. The pharmaceuticals industry is enormous, and we occupy only a very small part of it, packaging and distributing drugs. So, no, I don’t believe Joseph had any enemies. Except, of course, the horrible person who killed him. And did you see how fast they caught him? That’s what offering a reward will do. We put up fifty thousand dollars. I told that sheriff about the money; I knew it would make him work harder.”
I doubted if Mort would ever claim her reward money, even assuming he arrested the right person, which I didn’t believe was the case at this moment. Mort took pride in his profession and would work hard to solve Lennon’s murder regardless of whether or not a reward was offered. But there was no point in debating with Mrs. Lennon. In my experience, people who don’t trust the police cannot be argued out of it.
“From what I’ve been told, he sounds like a deranged old man,” she said. “Someone should have put him away before he went crazy.”
“You mean Chester Carlisle?”
“Is that his name? All I remember hearing is that he was one of the ones who resented Joseph’s trying to ingratiate himself into the community. Had nasty T-shirts made up ridiculing our name. Tried to get others to reject Joseph’s generosity. And then when he couldn’t sway them to join in his campaign against my husband, he shot him. What a sick, sick man. I feel sad for him.”
She was not at all what I’d expected. Having met her husband and her children, I’d imagined a pampered society lady, someone as dramatic and demanding as her daughter, or perhaps as meek and insecure as her son. And she might still turn out to be one or the other, but somehow I suspected that wouldn’t be the case.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t realize you had company.” Paul Lennon stood in the entryway, hesitant to intrude. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt and seemed slighter than I remembered—or perhaps it was just the first time I was seeing him without a suit and tie.
“Paul, come in, dear. This is Mrs. Fletcher. Have you met?”
“Not officially,” Paul said. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you,” I replied.
He pulled up a hassock and sat at his mother’s feet.
“Paul is going to take over the business for me,” Denise said.
“Mother, I really think we should discuss this. I’m not sure I know enough to run the company by myself.”
“You won’t be by yourself,” his mother said. “I will be by your side.”
“But what about Cynthia? She’ll expect—”
“I don’t care what Cynthia expects. She is an employee. That’s all. You are the heir, and Lennon-Diversified is your father’s legacy.”
“But the board—”
“The board will do as I say, or I will replace them.” She looked at me. “I’m sorry, Jessica. We shouldn’t discuss our boring business while you’re visiting.”
“Please, don’t mind me,” I said. “I know you have many important decisions to make.”
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br /> “That is very understanding of you.”
“Cynthia said she was coming by today to talk with you,” Paul said, picking up a corner of his mother’s shawl and playing with the fringe.
“I will talk with her, but I’m not going to change my mind. Your father and I discussed it last week, and we were in agreement. After that business several years ago, I never knew why he kept her on—or perhaps I do. She is young and pretty, after all.” She leaned over and looked in her cup, which was empty. “Jessica, I must apologize to you. I never offered you any coffee or tea.” She picked up the silver bell to ring it but changed her mind. “Paul, will you please ask the maid to bring in a fresh pot of rooibos tea and an extra cup and saucer?”
“Please don’t fuss on my account,” I said. “I’m fine as I am.”
“I want tea for myself, Jessica, and you may have it or not as you like. Paul?” She leaned over and plucked the medicine bottle and glass of water from the tray before her son picked it up and left the room. “Joseph was always a little hard on Paul,” she confided when he’d gone.
The scene I’d witnessed in the lobby of Lennon-Diversified sprang immediately to mind. Lennon had been more than hard on Paul. To my thinking he’d been cruel. “Why do you suppose that was?” I asked.
“Paul is not as assertive as his father was. But I think that with a bit more seasoning to build his confidence, he’ll be fine. I’ll train him.” She opened the pill bottle and shook one out into her hand. “Warren gave me these to calm my nerves. Do you know Dr. Boyle?”
“We’ve met, yes.”
“Joseph liked taking people under his wing and bringing them along, but he had high expectations. Unfortunately, he had a lot less patience with his own children. Josie has no interest in the business, so that was never a question, and Paul—well, he’ll have to learn it now, won’t he?” She swallowed the pill with a sip of water. “I don’t imagine these things work if you don’t believe in them. But I’d rather take an herb than a tranquilizer. In Zimbabwe, we have a great deal of respect for medicinal herbs. We even have pictures of them on our postage stamps.”
She seemed to be drifting from one topic to another, and I tried to bring her back to a topic I was interested in. “Was Dr. Boyle one of those Mr. Lennon took under his wing?” I asked.
“I beg your pardon. Dr. Boyle? Yes, he was one of Joseph’s protégés. He didn’t have the money to set up a successful practice, so Joseph agreed to help him out, provided Warren helped Joseph market his supplements. It was my idea. When you offer mineral supplements in the same office that houses state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment, patients tend to have more confidence in the pills. And I think it has worked well for him.”
“Have you made this arrangement with other doctors as well?”
“No. Warren is the first. He’s our test case, so to speak. Cynthia was the one who brought him to our attention. He had a little office in Massachusetts, and when we moved here, we set him up. The sales aren’t much—he’s only one doctor, after all. But the program has the potential to grow. Joseph and I talked about expanding the program to other medical offices, perhaps even others here in Cabot Cove.”
I knew that Seth would never entertain the idea of promoting pills in exchange for receiving expensive medical equipment, no matter how advanced, and I hoped our other local doctors would feel the same. But you can never be sure of such things. Greed has a way of finding excuses.
I heard the doorbell ring just as Paul reentered the room and placed the tray back on the table in front of his mother. She picked up a porcelain cup and saucer, poured tea from the china pot, and handed the cup to me. “Help yourself to sugar and cream,” she said, as she poured for Paul and herself.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting back with the cup and wondering if it was Ms. Welch at the door. My curiosity was satisfied a moment later when Cynthia strode into the room, Dante at her heels.
“Hello, Denise. I’ve brought the contracts I told you about.” She crossed the room and Dante pulled over a chair for her. He stood behind it. “Joe and I agreed this was to go forward,” she said, laying a sheaf of papers on the tray so they covered Mrs. Lennon’s cup. Ms. Welch looked pointedly at me. Even though we’d met several times before, she said, “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning tea time, Mrs.—?”
“Fletcher,” Dante supplied.
“Mrs. Fletcher. But Mrs. Lennon and I have some business to discuss. You don’t mind, do you? You can come back another time.”
“Mrs. Fletcher is my guest, and she isn’t leaving, Cynthia. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of her.”
“Really, Denise. This is company business. I’m sure Mrs. Fletcher has no interest in our business.”
Denise pulled her cup from underneath the contracts. “Do you mind staying while we finish with these?” she asked me. “It won’t take long.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m at your disposal.”
Cynthia looked down at her lap, nostrils flaring, and I could see she was trying to get her temper under control. Dante glared at me. Paul, on the hassock next to his mother, smiled into his teacup.
Cynthia straightened her shoulders and twisted her body in the chair, so she faced Mrs. Lennon, her back to me. Like Denise, she wore her dark hair in a chignon. I studied the hairdo. One of these women had been talking with Dr. Boyle in his office. I thought I knew which one, but couldn’t be certain yet.
“This is the contract renewal for the new medication,” Cynthia said. “We have four countries signed up so far. And I’ve spoken with representatives of that charity group to unload the last of the old formula.”
“I know about the contracts,” Denise said. “I have been in touch with the health department in Harare. There were some problems with a previous shipment, I was told.”
Cynthia cleared her throat. “There weren’t any problems. We investigated the complaints, and they were unfounded. The medicine works only on certain bacterial infections. Everyone knows that. We can’t be responsible if someone has contracted a form of the disease resistant to the medication. I’m arranging to send the last shipment to the refugee camps. And the new orders will go out in a month. We just need your signature to proceed.”
“Paul, have you read through these contracts?” his mother asked.
Paul shook his head.
“Why don’t you leave these with us,” Denise said to Cynthia. “That will give Paul a chance to familiarize himself with the responsibilities he is about to undertake.”
“I think we both know who Joe wanted to succeed him,” Cynthia said between clenched teeth. The back of her neck was flushed a bright red, and I was certain that her face was the same. She seemed to have forgotten I was there, or else she thought to embarrass Denise in my presence to get even for allowing me to stay through this highly charged discussion.
“I am well aware that Joseph was very fond of you,” Denise said, placing the emphasis on “fond” and leaving questions hanging in the air.
“It was more than fondness. He trusted my judgment. I have fifteen years of experience with this company. In the time I’ve been with Lennon-Diversified, company profits have doubled. I take great pride in that.”
“So I have heard.”
“Paul, you’ll pardon my saying this, but you have only six months’ experience, and only in the least important areas.” She switched her gaze to his mother. “Frankly, Paul isn’t capable of running a company this size. It will fail without me.”
“Then I’m sure he will be able to count on you to help guide him in his new post. Isn’t that so?”
Cynthia’s hands were fisted in her lap, the knuckles white. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to go over your head, Denise. I don’t believe your decision is final. Several members of the board have indicated that they would welcome my taking over, that they would back me in a vote,” Cynthia said, allowing a note of satisfaction to creep into her voice.
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