by Irene Brand
“Well!” Juliet said. “Is there a romance going on right under our noses and we haven’t even noticed? What have you guys got to tell us?”
“Not a thing,” Rissa said. She grabbed Drew’s hand. “Help us roll another ball of snow. We want a big snowman.”
“The sun is supposed to be shining tomorrow, so he won’t last long.”
“Yes, but we’ll have had the fun of making it.”
They played in the snow for another hour until Drew said he had to leave. He had only come to be sure they didn’t need anything. In spite of the snowplow, the roads were still treacherous and he didn’t want to travel on the narrow road out of the Blanchard estate after dark.
Portia and Juliet started toward the house first and Drew pulled Rissa behind the large snowman and kissed her.
“Call me tomorrow when you can,” he whispered.
Insolent eyes watched the foursome as they frolicked in the snow as if they were children without a care in the world. Bothersome brats! Had they forgotten so quickly that death had visited Blanchard Manor? Did they believe their troubles were over?
SIXTEEN
Rissa returned to the house, feeling warm and cozy after Drew’s kiss. Soon she would be going back to the city to immerse herself in work, waiting impatiently for Drew to come for her. She had actually forgotten the cloud hanging over Blanchard Manor until she climbed the steps.
Juliet and Portia were sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor and they motioned frantically for her to join them.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“We just got here. Listen,” Portia said.
“Listen to me, old man,” a woman shouted angrily, and it took Rissa a few moments to recognize the speaker as Sonya Garcia.
“She has her nerve to talk to Grandfather like that!” Rissa said.
Juliet, who had reason to be skeptical about Blanchard men, said, “Listen a little longer. We’ve heard enough to know that Sonya hasn’t always been the meek, plodding housekeeper that we know.”
“She said that Grandfather was glad enough to have her around when she had first moved to Blanchard Manor, but when she’d gotten old, he had shoved her away,” Portia revealed.
“I think you owe me something,” Sonya said. “You were glad enough to have me around at one time. But now you have no use for me and I’m working like a slave in this house, second in command to that Frenchman who rules the kitchen.”
“This sounds like a one-way conversation to me,” Rissa said. “Have you heard Grandfather say anything?”
“Not a word,” Portia replied.
Remembering the day she’d talked about her clinical depression to her grandfather, when he’d been totally unresponsive, she doubted that he was even aware of what Sonya was saying. But regardless of what her grandfather had done in the past, she wasn’t going to stand around and have him harassed.
“I’m going up.”
“No,” Portia said. “Sonya might be the one who’s been committing these crimes, and she might kill you.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that she might kill Grandfather? I’m going up,” she repeated.
It had gotten too quiet on the third floor to suit her, and Rissa rushed upstairs and opened the door into her grandfather’s room without knocking. Howard sat in his chair as usual. Sonya stood beside him, leaning over the table that held the tea things. She was pouring water in his teacup through tea leaves in a strainer, preparing his tea as she did each evening. Howard sat with his eyes open. Peg Henderson wasn’t in sight.
Sonya stared at Rissa and her two sisters, who stood in the doorway peering in.
“Good evening,” Sonya said, her face as expressionless as usual.
“We heard shouting,” Rissa said. “Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing at all, miss. Sometimes I have to shout to waken Mr. Blanchard.”
Rissa turned and exchanged incredulous glances with her sisters. She walked farther into the room.
“Grandfather,” she said, “I’m going back to the city soon. I wanted to say goodbye.”
He smiled feebly and lifted his hand. Normally, Rissa would have kissed his hand, but after the revolting one-way conversation she had heard between Sonya and him, the love she had always felt for her grandfather crumbled around the edges. She took his hand and squeezed it slightly and turned away from him. Why couldn’t she have one pleasant memory of her father or grandfather to cherish?
The next morning, the phone rang before Drew finished a breakfast of pancakes, sausage and coffee.
“Good news,” Mick said. “The chief has decided to reinstate you until the board has time to review your case, which may not be for several weeks.”
“Why this change of heart?”
“He’s always been on your side in the matter,” Mick said, “but he had to satisfy the politicians who watch every move he makes. Besides, we need you. There are some new developments in the Blanchard case. When can you come to headquarters?”
“As soon as I finish this last bite of pancake and take another swig of coffee.”
“I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
It felt good to walk into headquarters in his uniform and to be given his badge and gun.
“So what’s going on?” he asked Mick when he motioned for Drew to follow him into their joint office.
“We may have been suspecting the wrong people in the Blanchard case. You remember those pills you found at the scene of the crime when Trudy Blanchard was murdered?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve traced them to Howard—it’s one of the medicines he takes. We learned that from the pharmacist.”
Drew whistled sharply. “That would lead to a dead end. You can’t question or convict a senile man.”
Mick agreed with a nod. “According to Portia, her grandfather has always hated his daughter-in-law, and he’s still mobile. Peg Henderson watches him diligently, but occasionally he gets away from her. There are also times when he’s lucid. If I can catch him on one of those times, I’ll question him. And I convinced the chief that you were the one to back me up.”
“I’ll do what I can, but it seems like a useless task.”
“Also, that hitman still denies any knowledge of the Blanchard crimes, although he told one of the deputies that we were barking up the wrong tree. I went in and pounced on him about it, asking him how he knew anything about the case if he didn’t know the Blanchards. He said he didn’t know the family, but that there has been a lot of talk floating around town that Trudy’s murder was an inside job by someone close to the family. If that’s true, it could also point to Howard.”
“I hope that isn’t true. The girls harbor deep-seated animosity toward their father, but as I understand it, although Howard might be a scoundrel, he loved his granddaughters and they adore him.”
Mick nodded agreement. “Will you go with me to talk to him?”
“Of course. It feels good to be back in the saddle again.”
“And another thing…” Mick said as they prepared to leave the room.
“What now? You’ve already told me enough to ruin my day.”
“You remember the key chain you found after Ronald had a confrontation with somebody in the gazebo? I thought there were probably millions of them sold around the world, but it seems that particular chain is made in California and is sold only in that state.”
Drew whistled again. “Wow! That limits the field. How many people connected to this case have been in California recently?”
“Portia told me that Juliet had gone to California searching for her mother. Trudy Blanchard had been there before that, contacting an old lover of hers, Arthur Sinclair, who happens to be Juliet’s father.”
Drew pounded his forehead with the palm of his hand. “How many more skeletons are going to pop out of the Blanchard family closet? So both Juliet and her mother were in California?”
“Yes, as well as Brandon De Witte, Juliet’s boyfriend
. So that makes three people who could have dropped that key chain.”
“But just because the woman in the gazebo dropped that key chain doesn’t mean that she murdered anyone.”
“I know,” Mick agreed hopelessly. “This may be another dead end that leads nowhere.”
After hearing the things Sonya had said to her grandfather the night before, Rissa hadn’t called Drew, for she felt sure he would suspect she was upset about something. And the raw hurt in her heart kept her from wanting to talk to anyone, but she was disappointed when she tried to call him early the next morning and he didn’t answer. Later when she looked out the window and saw Mick and Drew exiting a cruiser, she ran downstairs to open the door for them.
She had dressed for the day in a green cashmere body suit with a V-neck and bat-wing sleeves. Drew figured that the outfit probably cost a bundle, and she looked terrific. He wanted to hug her, but he was new at this relationship stuff, and he wasn’t yet ready to make a public display of his affections.
Rissa swept questioning eyes over his uniform and holstered gun, and he said mockingly, “They found out they couldn’t run the Stoneley police station without me. After they begged on bended knee, I agreed to come back and bail them out.”
Mick groaned. “Give me a break!”
“Is anything wrong?” Rissa asked.
“Not that we know of,” Drew said, wondering how much to tell her.
Mick held up the small vial containing the two pills Drew had found in the library on the night of the murder.
“These were found in the library on the night your mother was killed. It’s one of your grandfather’s prescriptions. We want to talk to him.”
Rissa held up a hand. “Oh, please don’t do that. You know his condition. It would upset him terribly.”
“That may be true, but we have new evidence pointing to the possibility that the murderer is a member of the family. We’ve got to follow up every lead,” Mick said resolutely. He started toward the stairs. “Is his door locked?”
“Not during the daytime. After Grandfather got away from Peg and crashed Aunt Winnie’s birthday party, she locks the doors at night. She’s good at watching him, but she has to sleep sometime.”
Mick started upstairs, and Rissa cast a despairing look at Drew.
“It’ll be all right. We’ll be kind to him,” he reassured her.
Drew followed Mick, and Rissa trailed them. Drew thought it would be best if she didn’t sit in on the interview, but he understood her concern for her grandfather. He held out his hand and she gratefully slipped her hand into his. They couldn’t do any more than forbid her to enter the room. Mick knocked forcibly on the door to Howard’s apartment, and it opened slightly. Peg peered out.
“Why, what on earth!” she exclaimed, shocked. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk to Mr. Blanchard for a minute,” Mick said.
An exasperated look spread across Peg’s face, and she swung open the door. Howard was slumped in his chair, his head on his chin, saliva dribbling from his mouth as he slept.
“Help yourselves.”
Peg evidently thought the sight of Howard’s helpless state would deter them. But when the two officers stepped inside the room, she rushed after them like a fluttering hen defending her chicks.
“Don’t you dare!” she snapped, her eyes flashing. This was a side to the nurse that Rissa hadn’t seen before. But it was good for the Blanchard family that Peg took her role as Howard’s guardian seriously.
Mick pulled a chair close to Howard. “Bring a cold cloth and wash his face,” he said to Peg.
“I won’t do it. I’ll call the law on you.”
“We are the law,” Mick said, a glint of humor in his eyes.
“You get a cold cloth, Rissa,” he said.
Rissa looked at Drew and when he nodded assent, she skedaddled into the bathroom. She brought a damp washcloth and tenderly wiped her grandfather’s face.
“Why are you doing this?” Peg demanded, hovering over Howard.
“Because I intend to question everyone who has a motive to kill Trudy Blanchard. As soon as you let us find out what we can from Mr. Blanchard, we’ll leave and let your patient alone.”
When she tried to push Mick away from Howard, he caught her hand. “Miss Henderson, be reasonable. We mean no harm to Mr. Blanchard. I don’t think you want to be cited for obstructing justice, which I’ll do if you don’t behave. The sooner you step aside, the faster we can complete this interview.”
Frowning, the nurse jerked her arm out of Mick’s grasp, but she still kept her hand on Howard’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving the room.”
Ignoring her, Mick said, “Mr. Blanchard, I want to talk to you about your daughter-in-law, Trudy.”
Howard muttered and stirred in his chair, and Mick cast a significant glance in Drew’s direction. Drew wondered just how sound asleep the man had been. Maybe he was guilty and he was just pretending to be asleep. This was Drew’s first sight of the Blanchard patriarch, and when Howard opened his eyes and straightened in the chair, Drew was surprised at the strong personality of the man. Drew could understand why Howard Blanchard at one time had dominated the business world around Stoneley. He looked weak, but on occasion, could he exert enough physical strength to throw Rissa over the cliff?
“We need to ask you some questions, Mr. Blanchard,” Mick said.
Howard stared at him, and his blank eyes drifted to Rissa and Drew.
“Do you remember your sister-in-law?”
Hatred shone in the man’s eyes, so he must have understood Mick’s question, but he didn’t respond. This reaction caused Drew to question if Howard could understand what was said but didn’t have the verbal skills to reply.
“Evil!” Howard muttered.
“You mean your daughter-in-law was evil?” Mick persisted.
Howard nodded his head vehemently.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
Howard shook his head.
“Have you seen her in the past few weeks?”
Peg stepped forward. “That is enough. I’m going to call his son. You have no right to persecute this man.”
Mick nodded to Drew, who stepped toward Peg purposefully and she retreated. “Stop interfering or leave the room,” he ordered.
Reluctantly, she moved farther away, and Drew stood where he could keep her from communicating with Howard.
“Do you know your daughter-in-law, Trudy Blanchard, is dead?”
The information seemed to startle Howard at first. Then, rocking back and forth in his chair, he laughed like a lunatic.
“Dead, is she?” he shouted gleefully. “Dead! She was evil and got what was coming to her. Whoever murdered her did the Blanchards a favor.”
“How do you know she was murdered?” Mick said, but if Howard heard him, he didn’t answer. He had slipped back into that silent world of his that no one could penetrate. His eyes were blank and lifeless.
Shrugging his shoulders, Mick stood up and motioned for Drew and Rissa to follow him. Peg hurried to her patient and hovered over him with deep concern. They walked silently downstairs and Rissa followed the two detectives out on the porch, wishing she knew how much evidence they had against her grandfather.
“Call me tonight,” Drew said to Rissa, squeezing her hand.
He slid behind the wheel of the cruiser and waved to her. They cleared the gate of Blanchard Manor and Drew exhaled deeply as if he’d been holding his breath.
“It’s no wonder to me that Rissa has clinical depression,” he said. “That house is one of the most oppressive places I’ve ever been. I consider myself as levelheaded as any ordinary man, but when I’m inside Blanchard Manor, it seems as if evil is lurking in every corner. I have to constantly suppress the urge to peer over my shoulder to see what’s behind me.”
Mick nodded his agreement. “All of the sisters would be lunatics by now if they hadn’t had the wisdom to leave home as soon as they could. Th
e ones who went to boarding school and from there into college didn’t live in the house for too long. Even at that, most of them carry scars they can lay at the feet of their parents.”
“I know that Rissa does. When I think about what they’ve gone through, it makes me furious.”
“According to Portia, Miranda is probably the worst emotionally. She has a bad case of agoraphobia—they can hardly get her to leave the house. I’m surprised she went to her mother’s funeral.”
“Winnie seems to be well adjusted,” Drew said, and he slowed the cruiser as they entered Stoneley.
“Yes, and the girls owe a lot to her. However, her father broke up her youthful romance with Tate Connolly, and I wonder if she’s ever forgiven him.”
“So now Howard is the prime suspect for the murder of Trudy?”
“As far as I can tell,” Mick speculated. “He had motive and opportunity. Those two pills you found are his sleeping medication. Let’s suppose that Peg gave him the medication and he slipped it into his pocket. He could have sneaked out of the apartment after she went to her bed thinking he’d had enough dope to keep him immobile until morning.”
“I watched him closely while you were questioning him, and I’ve decided that he’s a lot more alert than anyone suspects,” Drew said. “Because people think he’s senile, they talk about issues in front of him, thinking he doesn’t understand, so he knows more about what’s going on in the household than anyone thinks he does. He may have refused his medicine more than once and wandered around the house at night.”
“From his outburst today, I believe that he would have killed Trudy without any remorse, but what about the attack on Rissa? Surely he wouldn’t harm her. According to Portia, Howard has always doted on the twins.”
“Have you ever wondered if we might have more than one perpetrator in this situation?” Drew asked.
He felt Mick’s sharp eyes piercing the distance between them. “Do you think the attack on Rissa could have been a copycat crime?”
“It’s possible,” Drew said as he swung into the parking lot at headquarters. They entered the building and went into their office. He reached for the notebook in his pocket. “Let’s see where we stand now. The last time we talked, I made a list of our suspects. The last few days I’ve scratched off a few of those names.”
