“Oh, yes. Over a period beginning about eight months ago, although there were one or two fairly substantial withdrawals the year before. She left only enough to operate the household, plus a little spending money.” Monique, obviously exhausted, found a spot on the couch.
She’d cashed it all in. Every dime.
Jennifer sat down on a dining chair, thoroughly confused, everything she’d thought about Mary’s situation askew.
“Can the money be traced?” Leigh Ann asked.
“She took most of it in bearer bonds, so no, it can’t.”
“Why would she need cash like that?” Jennifer asked.
“Only one reason I can think of,” Teri offered.
“Blackmail,” Leigh Ann supplied.
“Right on. Someone had the goods on that old broad and was making the squeeze.” Teri had been reading too much of her own writing.
“That’s a leap,” Jennifer argued.
“What? You’re the one who told us she blackmailed her uncle. Sounds to me like someone along the line was simply returning the favor,” Teri suggested.
“What uncle?” Monique asked.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Jennifer promised. It was way too late to catch her up right then. “What could someone have on Mary to blackmail her?”
Leigh Ann put up her hand as though she were in school. “I’ve got a theory. Three people, other than Mary, died after she arrived at the Ashton mansion: Clarisse, Juliet, and Shelby. I say she killed them all.”
“Leigh Ann! That’s ridiculous. Clarisse was ill—” Monique insisted.
“And should have been recovering but didn’t,” Jennifer pointed out, thoughts tumbling through her mind. “But there’s no doubt that Juliet committed suicide.”
“Says who?” Teri chimed in. “Exactly whose word do we have that Juliet killed herself anyway?”
“Melba’s, Luther’s, the police department’s,” Jennifer offered.
“Right. They didn’t have the forensic tools back in the Seventies that we have now,” Leigh Ann said.
“It was a locked room,” Jennifer reminded them.
“Always ways around that,” Leigh Ann insisted.
That was true. She’d even written a locked-room mystery.
“And Shelby?” Jennifer raised an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe she didn’t kill Shelby,” Leigh Ann admitted. “If she were going to, surely she would have arranged an ‘accident’ for him when she was younger. But it makes all kinds of sense for Mary to get rid of the women in his life: Clarisse so she could marry him, and Juliet so he would focus on her. But, of course, that backfired.”
Could Mary have actually killed Juliet? Somehow Jennifer doubted it. Even if her theory was wrong about why Juliet died and Mary had wanted the girl out of the way, surely she wouldn’t have been so foolish as to harm her. It’d be too big a risk. If Shelby ever suspected, he would have turned her out, marriage vows or no. But Clarisse...that was a different matter all together. She had everything to gain with Clarisse out of the picture.
“So who are you suggesting blackmailed her?” Jennifer asked.
“You said it yourself: Melba or Luther. They were there, in that house, all those years. They knew what was going on,” Teri insisted.
“And why now?” Jennifer asked.
“That one’s a slam dunk,” Teri said. “It wasn’t until after Shelby’s death that Mary actually had control of the money.”
In a way, Leigh Ann’s theory made a good deal of sense.
“If what you’re suggesting is true, one of them recently came into a whole lot of cash.” Jennifer glanced at Monique. “It might be worth checking out.”
Monique nodded. “Got any suggestions as to how we might do that?”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Leigh Ann threw in.
“Probably, but I know someone who could find out for us,” Jennifer said.
“Who?” Monique asked.
“Johnny Zeeman.”
“That sleazy private eye?” Monique wrinkled her nose, something Jennifer had never seen her do. “You know I don’t approve—”
“Oh, Johnny’s all right,” Jennifer interrupted. Sleazy or not, he was darned good at his job, and he’d watched out for her more than once. He’d insisted she learn how to use a gun, and for that, she owed him her life. And at least a little defense when someone attacked his character.
“Then do it,” Monique insisted, throwing up her hands. “You seem determined to do as you please anyway.”
Jennifer shook her head. It was a fine line, this dance, trying to do what she had to without alienating Monique by threatening her leadership of their small group.
And Monique had a valid point. It was as if they were all rushing along with some weird theory, and Monique was reluctantly being pulled in their wake.
“Tell me, then,” Jennifer asked Teri, “if someone was blackmailing her, why Mary was killed?”
“That makes the most sense of all,” Leigh Ann answered instead. “Once the money was delivered, she was of no use to the blackmailer. Better to get rid of her than have her go to the police.”
The doorbell sounded, and Jennifer looked at her watch. Cripes. It had to be Dee Dee to pick up the salads for tomorrow’s parties.
As Teri leapt up to open the door, Jennifer slipped into the kitchen. She caught a quick glimpse of a flustered Dee Dee as she swept into the room.
Dee Dee was only a couple of years older than Jennifer, but life seemed so much simpler for her. She had a settled look to her that came with a husband and a routine that included chauffeuring her little girl to school and dance lessons in a minivan. She found joy in day-to-day living in a way Jennifer couldn’t even imagine. Sometimes she envied her. And sometimes not.
“Hey, Teri,” she heard Dee Dee say.
Quickly, she pulled a large Tupperware container of slaw from the freezer. Better to get Dee Dee in and out before she got wind of what they were discussing. She didn’t need her on her case right now, hovering and worrying, and she certainly didn’t have time to explain all the events of the past week—what a horrific thought—or calm her fears about what Jennifer had gotten herself into this time.
“I’ll have everything out for you in less than two minutes,” Jennifer called.
“Great!” Dee Dee hollered back.
“Leigh, Monique.” She could hear Dee Dee greeting her friends. “What are you all doing here? Where’s April? I thought your group only met on Monday nights.”
“We do, but we’re—” Leigh Ann began.
“Brainstorming,” Jennifer yelled over her shoulder. It wasn’t really a lie. It was exactly what they were doing, but darned if she wasn’t going to have to watch not only what she said but also what Leigh Ann and Teri said.
Where the heck was that fruit salad? She knew she’d put it in there somewhere. Ah, there it was hiding behind the fudge ripple ice cream. She turned when the phone rang. As if she didn’t have enough to juggle.
“Not to worry,” Leigh Ann called out. “I’ve got it.” She grabbed the wall phone and took it back around the corner, stretching the cord as far as it would go. “Jennifer Marsh’s residence...uh-huh...no, I understand...I’ll be sure she gets the message...I’ll have her call you...Really?...No, of course...Good-bye.
“You forgot your appointment at the Red Cross Friday,” Leigh Ann sang out. “But they’re not mad. They’d like for you to reschedule as soon as you can. They have a special pin to give you when you come in. The woman said she clipped it to your file, and she’ll mail it to you if she doesn’t see you in a week.”
Jennifer’s hand closed on the fruit salad and she pulled it out, staring at it as though it were some foreign object.
“What are you doing in there? I thought you already had everything ready,” Dee Dee called.
She dug further back under a large bag of frozen peas and drew out a second container of fruit. Then she stuffed both salads, along with the coleslaw and a container
of sweet sauce she took from the refrigerator, into a grocery bag. Finally, she ducked back out from behind the kitchen partition. “Here,” she said, thrusting the sack into Dee Dee’s hands.
“What about the vegetable bouquets?” Dee Dee’s face sagged. “That’s what our clients really want. The rest of this is just...just food.”
“I’ve got most of them shaped and floating in ice water. All I have to do is stick them on the green skewers, add the leaves, and put them in a vase. I’ll get them to you in plenty of time, I promise. You know they don’t last once they’re all put together, and I’m sure you don’t want to take the pieces and do it yourself.”
“Okay. But don’t forget,” Dee Dee warned her. “You’ve got that crazed look you get when you’re plotting your books. Are you up to something?”
She shoved Dee Dee out the door. The woman could read her way too well. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a handle on it—all of it. I’ll have the vegetable flowers and the vases in your hands before church in the morning.”
“I go to Sunday school.”
“Right. Before Sunday school.”
She shut the door, turned to the group, and leaned back against it, hoping she did indeed remember to stop by Dee Dee’s in the morning. “Okay, here’s the deal. Somebody’s come into a good bit of money, just like Leigh Ann said. I’ll call Johnny and get him to find out for sure who that is. I’ll ask him to check out everybody who’s had anything to do with Mary in the last year, including Malcolm Reed. I want to make sure I’m right about this.
“Leigh Ann, you go down to the historical society sometime Monday and see if they’ve got an architectural plan for the Ashton mansion. If they don’t, go to city hall and find out where such plans exist.”
Monique raised both eyebrows at her. “Exactly why do you need plans of the mansion and, if you do, why not ask Eileen?”
She didn’t have time for a power struggle with Monique. Monique would just have to cope with her being in charge for once. “I’d rather Eileen didn’t know what we’re doing, or anybody else for that matter, not yet anyway.”
“Are you saying you still think she’s a suspect?” Monique drew herself up, full of indignation.
“I’m not saying anything, not yet,” Jennifer assured her.
“Okay, but what do I do when I get them?” Leigh Ann asked, obviously more interested in her task than what was going on between Jennifer and Monique.
“Make copies if at all possible—although how you would do that I don’t know—and bring them back here.
“Teri, you check out the situation with the courts. See if anything was filed concerning Shelby’s will, if he ever granted Mary a power of attorney, and if the competency suit was the only motion filed by Eileen.”
“So much for lunch Monday,” Teri grumbled.
“Monique,” Jennifer forged ahead, “do you have any idea which travel agent Mary used?”
“Same one I do, but—”
“Great. See if Mary made any trips over the past year. Short ones, probably only for a weekend.”
“Why?”
“I just want to know if she went anywhere. And if anyone went with her.”
“What about April?” Leigh Ann asked. “She’ll be upset if she hears you left her out.”
Geeez. They were all back in middle school. “I’m sure she has enough to keep her busy with her book being bought—”
“Leigh Ann’s right. She’ll be hurt,” Teri warned.
“Okay. I’ll ask her to check with Shelby’s lawyer’s office to see if we can find out what really happened to that will.”
“And what are you going to do?” Leigh Ann asked Jennifer.
“Call Sam and get in touch with a forensic chemist.”
“A chemist?” Leigh Ann stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jennifer brushed her off. “We’re not going to know for sure what happened until we’ve found Mary’s body, but I think I may know exactly how to do it.”
“How?”
“I can’t explain it all to you quite yet. I want all of you out of here. Now.” Jennifer shooed Leigh Ann and Teri toward the door. Monique refused to be shooed, but at least she went. “And I want everyone back here Tuesday evening, no later than seven o’clock. That will give you all an extra day if you run into any problems Monday. Remember, I’m counting on you, Leigh Ann. We need those plans.”
“We’ll see you Monday night, right? At our writers’ meeting,” Leigh Ann asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “I can’t make it.”
Monique’s stare felt like it was boring right through her.
“But...” Teri began.
“But what?” Jennifer asked.
“You’ve never missed. Not once in all the years we’ve been meeting.”
“Sure she did,” Leigh Ann reminded them. “That time she thought she had chicken pox.”
“That’s right. And she would have come then if April had already had them,” Teri added.
“Do you mind? I’m standing right here,” Jennifer reminded them.
“Yeah, we noticed.” Teri lifted an eyebrow at her, and Jennifer shoved the lot of them out the door.
Monique was still having none of it. Her body language insisted she wanted an explanation now, not Tuesday night, but Jennifer couldn’t help it. She couldn’t risk being stopped before she even gave her theory a chance.
In the hall, Leigh Ann turned toward her, her mouth open, ready to speak, but Jennifer shut the door. She didn’t have time for another word. She was already almost a week late. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.
Chapter 33
“I can’t believe you got these,” Jennifer marveled, as she carefully placed the original architectural drawings for the Ashton mansion on her dining table. The edges curled up as she unrolled the thick old paper, and Leigh Ann, Teri, April, and Monique each held a corner. She grabbed four books off the shelf near her desk and gave them each one to weigh down a corner.
“Choose Your Poison,” Leigh Ann read the title of her book out loud.
“Insect Detectives,” April recited hers. “Yuck. If that’s the kind of research you do, I’ll stick to children’s books.”
“Insects lay their eggs in corpses exposed to the elements, and forensic experts can tell by the stages how long—” Jennifer started.
“Okay, that’s more than I ever wanted to know about bodies in the woods,” Leigh Ann told her. “I have to have these plans back to the historical society by ten o’clock tomorrow morning when they open.”
“I think it’s amazing you managed to get them at all,” Monique said.
“They have two sets,” Leigh Ann explained. “I don’t think they’ll miss one overnight. Besides, it’s not like I stole them.”
“Yeah, right,” Teri said. “I don’t think they’re running a lending library over there.”
“How’d you do it?” April asked.
“I just put on a big smile,” Leigh Ann demonstrated, “acted like I knew what I was doing, and made eye contact. That way, no one thinks you’re up to something, and they’re not likely to be looking at your hands. Works almost every time.”
“Babies are even better,” April assured her. “If I’d known what you were doing, I could have loaned you Colette. It’s amazing what you can conceal in a stroller.”
“Would you look at this place?” Teri said, having no more of the baby talk. “I knew it was big but this really is a mansion.”
“Okay, Monique. You know that house better than any of us. Take a look,” Jennifer insisted, stepping back out of the way.
Monique drew out her drugstore reading glasses, perched them on her nose, and scanned the plans, which covered the three main floors, the basement, and the attic. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Does it look like you remember it?”
Monique nodded.
“And you don’t see anything unusual?”
&nbs
p; “Not a thing.”
“Fine. Note that the second and third floors seem to have the exact same floor plan, with four bedrooms, two on each side of each landing.”
Jennifer grabbed a calculator from a drawer in her desk and was immediately back to the table. “Let’s see if the numbers adds up.”
As Teri read off the interior dimensions of the third floor, east to west, using Juliet’s bedroom and the one next to it, Jennifer plugged them into the calculator.”
“Don’t forget to add at least eight or more inches for the depth of each of the walls,” Monique reminded her.
“Right. I’ll make it twelve.”
“Okay, what’s that give us?” Leigh Ann asked.
Jennifer looked back and forth from the number for the exterior dimension and the number in the calculator. “It’s off by a good six feet.”
“Did you remember to include the linen closet?” April asked, hovering over Jennifer’s shoulder.
“Yep,” Teri assured her.
“Is that storage area still there?” Monique asked.
“Yes, but they used part of it to make a bathroom,” Jennifer assured her.
“Well of course there’s unaccounted space,” Monique insisted. “The fireplaces are inset into those interior walls.”
They exchanged looks across the table. “Let’s try the bedrooms on the other side of the landing,” Jennifer suggested. “They’re proportioned a little differently, but...”
This time April read the numbers as Jennifer plugged them into the calculator. “See? The dimensions listed account for all but three feet of the space, and they share fireplaces on the interior walls, just like the rooms across the landing do.
“You don’t need that much extra space to build fireplaces. That’s where the passages lie,” Jennifer announced, “between the interior walls of the bedrooms on that side of the house.”
“But why don’t they appear on the plans?” Leigh Ann asked.
“Because these are the official drawings,” Jennifer explained.
She turned to Monique. “Do you think Eileen knows about the passages?”
Monique stared at her, not even trying to hide her disapproval. “You’re making a major leap. Who’s to say how accurate these plans are anyway?”
Dying to Be Murdererd Page 15
