by Lane Stone
“And she’s right! There is a murderer on the loose!” Charles Andrews was a holdout no longer. Where had he come from? I hadn’t even heard him come in. Speaking of hearing, he just had to pick that moment to regain his. Dana had whispered an inch from my ear. He stamped his cane on the tile floor. “You listen to your mother, young lady!” Technically, he was right since Henry’s murderer hadn’t been caught. Yet.
“Is that new police chief any good?” Betsy Rivard asked the room, in general.
“He’s too young to know anything,” Mr. Andrews said.
“He’s in his forties,” I replied. Actually, I was just guessing but that seemed about right. “He’s learned a lot…”
“Like what?” I didn’t know who had asked the question and it didn’t much matter. I was looking at a sea of faces wanting the answer.
The outer front door was opened by a couple I didn’t know. She was a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair, standing with a man with a serious-looking camera at the ready. I went to greet them at the inner doors. Thanks to the two doors, we’ve never lost a dog.
“Are you Sue Patrick?”
“Yes, I’m Sue.”
“I’m Jane Burke from the Southern Delaware Daily. This is my husband, Michael. Would this be a good time for me to interview Lady Anthea?”
Well, yes and no. The arrival of the reporters would give the group something to talk about other than a murderer on the loose in Lewes, but what if it came up again?
“Could you point her out to us?” Jane continued, scanning the room.
Lady Anthea had already started walking toward me and the two mixed blessings people.
I introduced them and led them down the hall. My objective was to get them out of the lobby, specifically away from Charles Andrews. We turned left and went outside to the smaller of our two outdoor play areas, which was currently empty. A gentle breeze had kept the temperature and humidity low. “I thought this might be a good place to talk,” I said to Jane. If they chose to sit to talk, there were wooden benches, one against each of the three high fences. Their height being another reason no runner has gotten away from us.
Michael scanned the blue climbing bridge with white foamy waves painted on its top edge, and the yellow wooden chair with Lifeguard stenciled on the back.
“Do you want to stand over there?” he asked Lady Anthea, pointing to the bridge. He was already looking through his lens.
She took one look at the play area furnishings and an eyebrow shot up.
I jumped in, “I brought you out here for a quiet spot for the interview, but for the photograph maybe …”
“I thought I could stand in front of my portrait inside.” Lady Anthea emphasized the last word.
He looked at Jane for salvation. “Sure!” she said. “Formal is good. Anything you say. We’d like to get back to the newspaper in time to get this in the online edition this afternoon.”
Lady Anthea and I looked at each other. The sooner a complimentary article was published, the better. Now that all that was settled, Jane turned on an app on her phone to record the interview and smiled at her subject.
We had three objectives. First, to kill the rumor of the dogs being stolen once and for all. Second, to try to find out who started the rumor since it had started almost as soon as the body was found. And third, to get people to come to the gala. I moved to the side wall to listen and stay out of the way.
Anthea gave the history of our partnership in a nutshell and then talked about how well-cared for the dogs were at Buckingham’s and how much fun they have. Jane asked her about the report of the dogs being the target of a theft and smuggling attempt and Lady Anthea pooh-poohed it.
“Could you turn off the recorder for a minute for a quick question?” she asked.
Jane obliged.
“How did you hear that rumor?”
“I can’t reveal my source.” She turned the recorder back on. When she resumed the interview, it was with a question about what was planned for entertainment at the gala.
I moved closer to Michael. “You know Dr. Walton was drunk when he phoned in that tip, don’t you?”
His eyes widened and he gulped. Bingo.
Unfortunately, I had little time to celebrate my success in tricking the information out of him. “Are you thinking about suing us?” he asked.
“No! Where did that come from?”
“Thanks,” he answered, ignoring my question.
It was time to see just how appreciative he was. “Did he say that Henry was dead in the back of the van?”
“No. He didn’t say anything. Everything was phrased as a question,” Michael responded. “When he called the first time, he asked why dogs had been left alone in the Buckingham van.” Those words “first time” were the most important part of the sentence, as far as I was concerned. He had called the newspaper more than once. “He repeated that a couple of times. Then he called back to ask why they were being taken out of state. It would have been of interest since everyone in town knows you. Add to that Lady Anthea being here, and we pretty much knew we had to run it. Jane and I went to the ferry terminal when we got the first call to check it out, and that’s when we saw the police activity. We got the second call while we were there.”
Jane had gotten away from discussing the gala and was bombarding Lady Anthea with questions. My partner was arching her back to get away from the inquisition. “Are you in line for the throne?”
“No, I’m not!”
“Are you sure? Not even like, two-thousandth?”
“Oh, I’m quite sure.”
“Have you ever been to Sandringham?”
“Yes. Uh, I mean.” Lady Anthea obviously hadn’t expected to talk about her royal connections.
“When?”
“For Christmas when I was a little girl,” she answered in a low voice. “My grandmother was lady-in-waiting to the queen.”
Jane’s mouth dropped. “Did you wear plaid?” she squeaked.
“We wore tartan,” Lady Anthea corrected her. “It was great fun. Just like the Pet Parent Appreciation Gala will be.”
Jane looked over at me. “Some year, do you think we could wear tartan?” she cooed.
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Lady Anthea answered. Jane turned back to her, gratitude in her eyes. “If this year’s gala is the success we anticipate, a Sand-ringham theme can certainly be planned for the future.”
“Give us all the details you want us to put in the article,” Jane said.
Lady Anthea and I did just that, and then she led them to the side gate to get back to their car in the parking lot. Naturally, we wanted to spare the reporter the unpleasant talk about having a murderer at large that might still be going on in the lobby.
“I’ll look forward to reading the article,” Lady Anthea said with a smile.
I held the whitewashed wooden gate open for them.
Michael stopped in his tracks, halfway through the opening. “What about the photograph of Lady Anthea?” He tapped the side of his camera, just in case any of us had forgotten that that’s how you took photographs.
Ugh. So close yet so far away. I looked out at the parking lot. It wasn’t as full as it had been earlier, now it was about a quarter full. Maybe Charles Andrews was gone.
I sheepishly reversed course and we went back inside. I could hear talking and laughing, but from the hallway I couldn’t see anyone. When our little group reached the lobby, I spied Mason, Joey, and Dana standing in a half circle in the store section of the room. They had corralled Charles Andrews, Betsy Rivard, Kate Carter, and I couldn’t see who else. Tucked away as they were, there would be no chatting about the murder with the reporter. Mason had them in stitches with a story about leaving a dog in one of the grooming suites to take a phone call and coming back to find that the dog had locked him out and locked him
self in. My lead groomer comically detailed all the ways he tried to get the door unlocked before I found out. I hadn’t heard this before, and I didn’t want to hear it now, thank you very much. Still, it kept them occupied while Michael took a few formal, tasteful photographs of Lady Anthea standing in front of the portrait of her in the foyer at Frithsden, before the days of murder and vehicular crimes.
Chapter 15
As soon as everyone at Buckingham’s had their lunch break, I asked Shelby for the use of her car, again, so we could pay Mary Jane Kerwin a visit. I had told Shelby about learning who Henry was seeing in last night’s the doctor is gin session. She was rummaging through her handbag for her car keys when the owner of the garage called. The new airbags had been installed on the Jeep and I could pick the car up at my convenience.
“Lady Anthea, do you want to go with her and drive my car back?” Shelby asked.
“No!” I yelled. Could it be just two days since I had witnessed her driving skills, or lack of? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Driving here in the States is something I’ll need to work on,” Lady Anthea said. Shelby and I looked at each other. Lady Anthea hadn’t been addressing anyone in particular. Still, it was an odd statement since her visit was already half over.
“Sue, I’ll drive you,” Shelby said. “Lady Anthea, we’ll be gone just a few minutes. Could you answer the phone and greet anyone who comes in?”
“Sure,” was the answer. She seemed genuinely happy to have the task.
“Mason and Joey are in back if anyone comes in for grooming. And call a nanny out if anything else comes up,” I said.
“Nanny?”
“That’s the employee in charge of the puppy playroom,” I said on my way out.
As soon as we got in the car, Shelby started one of our quasi-telepathic conversations. “So?” she asked.
“That’s what I was wondering too!” I answered.
“Would you be able to keep me if she stayed on in Lewes?” she asked, her brow creasing in worry.
“Of course,” I said.
“Could you afford it?”
“We would figure out a way,” I said. “Do you think she wants to stay? Why would she?”
“From what she said in there, and from what you’ve told me, it sounds like she might.”
“If you had a house with a name, would you want to move here?” I asked.
“No! I mean, I love Lewes, but still. And it’s not just Frithsden she’d be leaving. She’s from a completely different world. I bet one piece of her jewelry could pay off the mortgages on both our houses. Sue, she knows the queen! She goes to openings and judges things. We work hard and she lives a life with servants to do everything for her.” Shelby was on a roll.
“Actually, she doesn’t have it as easy as we thought.”
“Huh?”
“It seems her brother isn’t exactly Merrill Lynch. He’s made a mess of the family’s finances,” I explained.
“Whoa, just like the father in Downton Abbey,” Shelby said.
“Pretty close,” I agreed.
***
Our visit to Mary Jane Kerwin was unannounced because we didn’t want to give her time to make up an alibi or slip out the backdoor or anything. Lady Anthea and I had discussed it on the short drive through town after I was reunited with my Jeep. We wanted to see the look on her face when we told her that there was another woman in Henry’s future. We tried to think of a way to start the conversation and hadn’t gotten far.
“We know you were sleeping with the victim and we were just wondering if you killed him, doesn’t hit the right note, does it?” I pointed out.
“Well, how do they start these discussions in those mysteries you love?” she asked. “What were you reading last night?”
“That was To Think a Thought of Murder. Want it when I finish?”
“Thank you but, no.”
To each his own. “I understand. I think everyone should read what they want to read. Just like you should eat what you want to eat. But I digress. In the books I read, more times than not, the killer or a suspect catches the amateur sleuth poking his or her nose where it doesn’t belong and threatens something bad if they don’t stop. Then the detective says why did you kill so-and-so, and the other guy either says I didn’t, or he tells why he killed the person. I don’t think any of that is going to help us today, though.”
We drove on awhile, with her looking out the window.
“What do you like to read?” I asked.
“I’m re-reading volume one of Howard Carter’s The Tomb of Tutankhamun, now that it’s available as an e-book.”
“If you’ve read it before, you know how it turns out. He found King Tut.”
“Let’s just say I love reading how life can surprise you.” Then she did this half snort, half laugh thing, which I think means she thought that was funny. Anyway, we needed to get back to talking about our looming interview with Mary Jane Kerwin. “I almost forgot. The newspaper photographer confirmed our suspicion. It was Dr. Walton who phoned them about the van being left unattended on the road near the ferry terminal.”
“So he’s the murderer!” she said.
“Actually, he told them there were dogs left alone in our van, and he started the rumor about the attempt to take them out of state, but he didn’t mention the murder. It was that call that got the reporter and the photographer to the ferry terminal, and they took it from there once they saw the police,” I said.
“So he’s guilty of making Buckingham’s look as bad as possible,” Lady Anthea said. I agreed and then she went on. “His loathing of you might be a motive.”
“Ouch. Isn’t loathing a little strong?”
“Very well, have it your way, his dislike of you. Have you considered that?” she asked.
“Are you sure you’re not reading my mysteries?”
“Quite sure. Are you going to tell Chief Turner?”
After considering this for a few minutes I said, “Sure, why not?” When I caught a red light, I flipped through my recent calls on my cell phone until I came to his number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hello, Sue.” If I live to be one hundred, I’ll never get used to being on the receiving end of caller ID. For some reason that deep voice almost made me giggle. No idea why.
I told him about Dr. Walton calling the Southern Delaware Daily to the Monday night goings on.
“I’ll note that, but I already knew he wasn’t a fan of yours or of the Pet Place—”
“Pet Palace,” I corrected.
“Yeah, whatever. My first clue was how he tried to kill you last night. So now you believe what I said about not being their source?”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mimicked.
“Have you uncovered anything else I can use?”
“Yeah, I have an overflowing treasure trove of clues I’m holding back from you. Thought I’d dispense them one phone call at a time.”
“Very funny,” he said with a chuckle. “I happen to know you want the murderer behind bars and everybody’s peace of mind restored before Friday night.”
“That’s not the only reason. Justice for Henry might be nice,” I said.
“At least we have something in common. Where are you now?”
“At Buckingham’s,” I lied.
“Sue, you’re traveling east on Savannah Road.”
I rubbed my neck. My collar was too tight. I felt like my clothes had turned on me. “Why did you ask me if you already knew?” I yelled then I hung up. My seatbelt was bothering me too, and I yanked at it. It wasn’t like I didn’t know the police had technology at their fingertips. A literary person like myself was going to know that. But if I wanted Chief Turner, or anyone else, to know where I was or where I was going, I would tell them.
Lady Anthea didn’t give me much time to c
alm down. “Are you really that indignant or did you hang up because you were afraid he was about to ask if we had the name of the woman Henry was seeing?”
“Not much gets past you,” I said with a laugh.
“There’s more to it than that, though. Isn’t there? That really bothered you.”
“I feel like he’s trying to trap me. I mean, track me.” I lowered my sunglasses from the top of my head to a more practical location, that being in front of my eyes.
We had crossed the bridge over the canal, and I turned left off of Savannah Road onto Massachusetts Avenue. “We’ll take the first right,” I said to Lady Anthea.
We arrived at Mary Jane’s A-frame house by passing it twice, going to the end of the street and coming back, twice. “I don’t think she’s at home,” Lady Anthea said. The fact that there was no car in the driveway and there was no garage, was what had prompted this Sherlock Holmes deduction. I parked on the street across from the house since that’s the way I was facing coming from my last foray down to its end, and we walked up the short driveway. A curving flagstone path led to the front door.
“Let’s go and knock on the door anyway, just to be sure,” I suggested.
A porch stretched across the front of the house. A striped hammock and two Adirondack chairs, painted royal blue, pretty much filled it. I knocked once and stopped, my knuckles hovering. I had spied something of interest. Still, I needed to be sure she wasn’t at home before I did what I was thinking I couldn’t possibly do. I knocked again and waited, listening. By that time, Lady Anthea knew something was up. “I don’t hear anything, do you?” I whispered.
She shook her head, no, and looked around.
I took this as approval from the universe, and from her, to reach into Mary Jane’s mailbox and take the letters out. One envelope was from WSFS, Wilmington Savings Fund Society.
“This is a local bank,” I explained. “A lot of local businesses use them. We call it WISFIS.” I tried to see through the envelope, then around the plastic window. No luck.
“I see Ms. Kerwin has one of those outdoor showers,” Lady Anthea said. She’d been scanning the perimeter when she noticed it.
