Maybe …
No …
I suddenly remembered Jessica asking Freddie if Stanley had spent any time in the garage … and I had tripped on a container of antifreeze right outside the door of the kitchen! I knew windshield-wiper fluid was particularly dangerous around pets and children because of its sweet smell. Could someone have poisoned the drink that way? Mixed with alcohol the taste might not be noticeable. And Candace wasn’t a drinker. She wouldn’t know what it was supposed to taste like. There were so many people coming and going from the kitchen it was possible no one noticed. And the same person could have taken the glass from the garbage …
… the boathouse must have been Plan B after the poisoning failed.
And if the killer had been thorough enough to make a Plan B then there might still be a Plan C …
I quickly thanked Mrs. Watson for the information and left. I think she called after me, but my head was too full of thoughts to hear properly. I also didn’t know exactly where I was headed, but my feet seemed to have an idea. Kit Kat and Tweety hurried to follow.
“So what are you going to do?” Kit Kat asked, panting in her effort to keep up. “I mean it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They’re just rumors.”
“Yeah, I’ve been holding on to the belief that none of the things that have been happening tonight mean anything, but I have a horrible feeling that sticking to that belief is going to leave Candace dead.”
Tweety grabbed my wrist. Forcing me to a stop. By the look of concern on her face, I was guessing I was coming off a little weird. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t think all of this through and still look normal. “But Candace is safe, right?” she asked. “Rhonda’s with her.”
“And what about Grady?” Kit Kat chimed in.
“Yeah, I found him, but—” I got up on my toes trying to spot him in the crowd. “But no. Candace is missing. I’ll call Grady and—Frick! He lost his phone.” Or it was stolen. His phone was stolen to set him up for murder.
“What do you want us to do?”
“Find Candace. Fast.”
“We should split up,” Kit Kat said.
I nodded. “But don’t do anything else. We’re not confronting anyone. Find her. Then call me. That’s it.”
“Got it.”
“Just whatever you do, don’t leave her alone. And be safe.”
“Got it.” The twins hurried off.
Just then my phone buzzed. Freddie.
Any sign?
No.
She’s not outside. We’re coming in.
Right, but—
Just then someone caught my eye.
I didn’t finish the text.
I had spent so much of the night trying to track people down … and there, headed for the smoking room with my mother, was the very person I needed to have a word with. Someone who—if I was right—was the key to figuring out everything that had happened tonight.
I had to be sure.
Chapter Thirty-five
I shoved my way through the crowd. Angry shouts followed me as I cut my path. Really, what was the matter with people? Given the way I looked right now, I know I would move out of my way. There was no lineup outside of the pocket doors of the smoking room anymore. It had to be really close to midnight. People were in full-on party mode. My boots slapped against the marble floor as I broke into a run. I slowed only when I got to the half-shut door.
I took a breath and slid it open.
The room was empty except for my mom and Bryson. The fire had burned down to embers. He sat at the table, head collapsed over his arms. My mother stood patting his shoulder, looking bewildered. Then again she always looked a little bit bewildered.
“Erica? Honey, I’m glad you’re here. I think this young fellow could use our support.”
Bryson looked up. “Erica?” He moaned, dropping his head back on his forearms. “No. Not Erica. I am so tired of Erica!”
“Erica, honey, what did you do?” My mother’s blue eyes had grown even wider.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s just mad because I didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Then he was mad because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
My mother threw her hand away from Bryson’s back and rubbed her fingers together as though he had left a sticky residue.
“And you were really mean about it,” Bryson’s muffled voice called out.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t hear nice.”
My mother made a weird flexing motion with her arm and mumbled, “Do you want me to…?” It kind of looked like she was acting out snapping his neck with her bicep. Or maybe just choking him out?
“Nope, I’ve got something else in mind.” I rushed forward and plucked the turban off her head. I plopped it down on my own and hurried over to the chair across from Bryson, dropping myself into it.
“What are you doing?” a miserable Bryson asked, peering up at me.
I picked up the tarot cards and began shuffling. “I’m going to tell your future, Bryson.”
His eyes jumped from me to my mother. “Are you psychic too?”
“Absolutely.” I flipped cards over on the table, giving each one a good smack.
A spark flickered in Bryson’s eye. He had been deep into the Scotch, but even so, he knew something was up.
“Hmm,” I said, catching his gaze with my own. “These cards tell a very interesting story.”
His brow furrowed. “You haven’t even looked at them.”
“I don’t need to.” I tapped the side of my head. “Psychic, you know.”
“Erica, I had no idea you were so interested in—”
“Not now, Mom.”
She didn’t say anything more, just eased herself into a seat halfway between Bryson and me at the side of the table.
“Do you want to know how the story starts, Bryson?”
He studied my face. “Sure.”
“Great.” I folded my hands on the table. “Once upon a time there was a weaselly man who thought he was entitled to everything his little heart desired.”
Bryson’s face went from being comically sad to something much harder.
“So in order to make a name for himself at the development company he worked for, he resorted to less than legal means to encourage seniors to leave their homes before they really wanted to in order to make room for this company’s luxury cottages.”
“This is an old story,” Bryson said. “I’ve done my time.”
“No. No you haven’t,” I said, losing my grip on the stony tone I had going on. I took a deep breath. “No, this man didn’t do any time for his crimes. In fact, he didn’t even lose his job.”
“I have paid though,” he said, collapsing hard against the back of his chair. “I’m Candace’s assistant.”
“Right. A job you don’t like very much. It’s beneath you.”
“I want to agree with you right now,” Bryson said, pointing at me with the hand that was holding his Scotch. “But I’m sensing it’s a trap.”
“No, seriously,” I said, shaking my head. “A guy with your charm, charisma, lust for power … answering Candace’s e-mails? Managing her social med—”
“What are you getting at?” Bryson asked, disgust forming on his pouty face. “You’re right. I don’t like doing those things. It’s a waste of my talent.”
“You want your old job back.”
“I want more than just my old job back. I want—”
“Exactly,” I said. “You’re a man with unbridled ambition.”
Bryson’s eyes darted up to my turban. “I’m having a hard time remembering why I wanted to date you.”
“Yeah, and this card right here,” I said, tapping randomly at the table, “says you’re a douchebag, but—”
“Actually,” my mother said, jumping in, “that is the High Priestess card. It—”
“Mom!”
“Right,” she said, holding up some apologetic hands. “You weren’t done with your strange little story. Go on.
”
“That’s right,” I said, looking back to Bryson. “I’m just getting started.” I pinned him in my gaze. “You see, my guess is that this man was so desperate to get his position back, he was willing to do just about anything to get it. Even resort to some of his old tricks. Like blackmail.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Bryson said.
“Yes you do!” I slapped the table. “Candace’s life might depend on it.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. But I couldn’t tell if it was real confusion or just lying-liar confusion.
“Now,” I said, dropping my voice back down. “This man knew if he was going to climb his way back up to the top, he had to be more careful this time. Do a better job of covering his tracks. Find a way to do it so that he would win no matter what.”
Bryson looked away again to the embers dying in the fireplace.
“You see, I spoke to Candace. She said that you had been doing most of the sales lately. That you’ve been able to buy up more properties than MRG thought possible.” I tapped the edge of the table with my index finger. “In fact, Candace was going to give you all the credit. And how do you thank her for that?”
Bryson sighed and took a sip of his drink. “I have no idea what you’re getting at. It’s not a crime to work hard.”
“Yeah, I guess in a weird way you were working hard.”
My mother shot me a look of confusion. Hers was definitely real.
I tightened my eyes into a reassuring I’ve got this face.
“But tell me, Bryson, was it just the Arthurs you blackmailed or are there others?”
The Morning After
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” Freddie said, pushing himself up from the small carpet at the hearth into a seated position. “There’s no way that’s how it all went down.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never been that cool and badass under pressure.”
“Sure I have.”
Freddie snorted a laugh. “Your investigative questioning style is awkward at best.”
“Hey! Not true.”
“And you gave your mother an I’ve got this face?” Freddie asked with another snort. “What does that even look like?”
I pushed myself up on the bed. “You know what I think?”
“What?” Freddie asked, lying back down and staring at the ceiling.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day.”
“No, you are. You are totally jealous that I was the one who figured out that Bryson was blackmailing the Arthurs.”
Freddie laughed.
“And that I thought of the antifreeze.”
“Yeah, when it didn’t matter anymore.” Freddie shook his head against the floor before letting out a frustrated shout. “Okay, fine! You’re right. You are totally right! How could you have done all that without me? You wouldn’t have even been at this stupid New Year’s party if it wasn’t for me. I got us this job!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t plan it that way. It just kind of happened.” I slouched back into the bed. “And it may not have happened exactly like that, but it was pretty close.”
“Hey, I just thought of something,” Freddie said, voice suddenly dropping in intensity to something much more careful. “You don’t think we got killed, do you?”
“What?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Freddie said. “What if you, me, and Stanley, we all died … and this room is like some sort of limbo?”
“No.”
“You could have at least taken a minute to consider it.”
“No.”
“Fine. What happened next?”
Chapter Thirty-six
“I’m not blackmailing the Arthurs. That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, of course not,” I said, keeping my eyes on Bryson. He was still looking away, but I knew he could feel the accusation in my voice. “No, you would never blackmail the Arthurs. But Candace is, isn’t she?”
My mother gasped. “What? Not Candace.” She leaned across the table and grabbed my hand. “Erica, I know you have feelings for Grady, but really, this is taking it too far.”
I squeezed my eyes shut with my whole face. “Mom, I know Candace is not blackmailing the Arthurs. Bryson is. I was just going for a little dramatic impact here to throw Bryson off and—” I waved my hands in the air. “Doesn’t matter.”
My mother leaned back in her chair. “Well, phew, I was really worried there for a second. Go on.”
I rubbed my forehead. I couldn’t remember where I had left off … oh yeah! “Yes, Candace is blackmailing the Arthurs. Or at least, that’s how you wanted to make it look if ever there was an investigation.” I threw my hands up in a fait accompli gesture. I was feeling very Poirot—but a very angry Poirot who might smash Bryson’s smug bearded face into the tabletop if he didn’t cooperate with me. “You win either way. Either you get the credit for the sales or Candace goes down for blackmail. And I’m willing to bet your rich uncle wouldn’t help sweep those charges under the carpet, would he?”
Bryson flashed me an amused smile, but I could have sworn there was just a little too much tension in it to be genuine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I slammed my hands on the table again. “Well, you had better figure it out real quick because if you have more people than just the Arthurs thinking they are being blackmailed by Candace, I need to know right now. Because she is in danger.” I knew the Arthurs were the most likely suspects because Mrs. Watson had said they were the ones who started the rumors and ordered the apple martini, but I had to be sure. There was still Joey in the mix … and so much else I didn’t know.
Bryson folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“What do you have on them?”
I saw the barest of smiles touch the corner of Bryson’s mouth.
“I saw that,” I said with a point. That was it. That was all I needed. He was blackmailing them. “You’re just too proud of yourself to deny it.”
“I saw it too!” my mother shouted. “He’s got something on the Arthurs!” A moment later she tagged on, “I wish I knew what we were talking about.”
“Later,” I said, jumping to my feet. “I’ve got to—”
Just then my phone buzzed. Freddie.
I scanned the text. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“They found Candace.”
“And that’s bad? Is she okay?”
I shook my head no.
“Then what is it?”
“I got to go.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Given all that had happened to Candace tonight, what she was about to do wasn’t the worst thing ever, but as her friend, I thought it was pretty bad. Freddie had managed to track her down … well, actually, no. It was more like Candace had revealed herself to the entire party.
I hurried out of the smoking room as fast as my snow boots would carry me. I spotted the lights of a police car out a window by the front door. I sent my mother, who was following close behind, to greet Amos and tell him to keep an eye on Bryson.
The crowd thickened as I pushed my way to the part of the foyer under the arch of the dual staircase. It was standing room only. I guess I had been so deep into my questioning of Bryson that I hadn’t heard the crowd file in here. Then again, it was pretty quiet. The music had stopped and everyone was murmuring in that low voice people use when they are waiting for something to happen. Was it midnight already? Or was everyone just looking up because Candace was standing on the exposed hallway of the second floor that bridged the two stairways.
Frick. I stared up at her. Yup, she was hanging onto the railing, but definitely swaying.
“Everybody?” she called out. “Are you all listening? I have a little something I want to say.” Her words were thick and slurry. She hadn’t sobered up much at all.
Suddenly Freddie and Rhonda were at my sides.
“We
tried to stop her,” Rhonda said, “but she wanted to make a speech.”
“There was nothing we could do,” Freddie added. “Aside from tackling her on the stairs. And I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”
Poor Candace. I knew what public humiliation was like in this town. I mean, don’t get me wrong, for the most part nobody would hold this drunken display against her, but they’d never ever let her forget it entirely either. Not to mention what this could mean for her job. Here’s hoping she had meant what she had said earlier about wanting a career change. She was having one epically bad night. I mean, on top of all this, she was breaking up with her boyfriend … and it looked like the Arthurs were trying to kill her. Oh God, the Arthurs were trying to kill her!
My eyes flashed around the room.
Where were the Arthurs?
“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” Candace drawled. “Oh wait … it’s not my party!” She laughed at that, throwing her balance off enough that she had to grab the railing with both hands. “Whoa … I love you guys.”
“Hey! Hey!” I hissed, whapping Rhonda and Freddie. “Have either of you seen the Arthurs?”
“Um, I don’t know,” Freddie asked. “Why?”
“Bryson has been blackmailing them to buy their property, but he’s been making them think it was Candace doing it.”
“What?” Rhonda shouted, causing a few people to turn away from whatever it was Candace was saying.
“But what about her prison pen pal?” Freddie asked. “I thought he was our main suspect? He’s the one who gave Candace the drink.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! Maybe they’re working together?” That didn’t make sense. “Maybe there are two sets of people trying to kill Candace?”
“Don’t forget her sister,” Rhonda added. “We haven’t cleared her yet.”
“Yes we have,” Freddie said with total certainty.
I let out a small shout of frustration. “We’ve got to get her down from there.”
“Calm down,” Freddie said. “I don’t think anyone’s going to kill her with the entire town watching.”
Ring In the Year with Murder--An Otter Lake Mystery Page 19
