A Darling of Death

by Gin Jones

  "You know how it is in a small community," Spencer said. "The residents will talk about any little thing, with all sorts of wild theories. I even got a call from Danica's brother this morning. I guess he hadn't heard that I was a suspect, and he's convinced that one of her employees killed her. He wanted to be sure someone in town, besides the B&B staff, knew he was arriving this afternoon, in case he turns up dead or disappears."

  "Maybe he's right."

  Spencer shook his head. "I don't think so. He's never visited here since Danica bought the B&B, so he never met the staff. They're…I don't know. Let's just say they're not very assertive. None of them would have disagreed with Danica, let alone killed her."

  "What about Damian then?" Helen asked. "Is he as financially driven and competitive as she was? I heard that he was out of town when she died, but is there any chance he might have hired someone to kill her, so he could inherit her assets?"

  "I got the impression that he was a cut-throat businessman, but only metaphorically," Spencer said. "He's a lot older than Danica was, by something like fifteen years, so they weren't particularly close. He's a successful venture capitalist, and she felt competitive with him, but I'm not sure he even noticed. Too busy doing his deals."

  Even though Damian didn't seem like a prime suspect, Helen wasn't prepared to write him off completely. At least not until Jack and Rebecca could get a glimpse of him and report back.

  "I guess we're back to looking for local suspects then."

  "I'm afraid so. And before you ask, I've already told Mr. Tate that I have no idea who might have wanted to kill her. I certainly didn't. If it's true that she'd moved on to a new boyfriend, I didn't know anything about it. Not sure what that says about me." Spencer glanced morosely at a new light flashing on his console.

  "Go ahead and answer the call," Helen said. "And don't worry. I think I can find some more suspects to help Tate get the police off your back."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It ought to be simple to make a list of Danica's possible killers, Helen thought on her way down the front steps of the law office and over to her waiting car. She just needed to know who had a reason to kill Danica and had been at the Zubov House of Sambo at the time she was killed. There were too many people with a motive for murder to identify and question them all, but the number of people who had been anywhere near the scene of the crime had to have been considerably smaller.

  Helen decided she'd start with the assumption that everyone in the entire town wanted Danica dead, and focus primarily on who might have had access to the lockers at the House of Sambo. Besides Kolya and Mia, there were only five people inside the place: herself, Danica, Ronny, Marty Reed, and his workout partner. At least, those were the only people she'd personally observed. It was possible that someone else had slipped inside, so she needed to know what other members might have been in the area on Monday morning. She couldn't get that information directly from either Kolya or Mia, who were too professional to share their member roster and sign-in sheets with anyone other than the police. Fortunately, the members of small communities like Wharton tended to know everyone in town, and—more importantly—they witnessed and shared everything they saw or heard.

  If there had been any other members in the vicinity, someone had to have seen them. They might not remember something as innocuous as a person being where he had every right to be, though, unless it was attached to something else more gossip-worthy. Something like a meeting between Danica and the guy she was seeing behind her boyfriend's back. Spencer might not believe she'd been cheating on him, but Helen did, so it was just a matter of finding out who the man was and whether he had access to the House of Sambo and then turning his name over to Almeida for some official questioning.

  The trick to mining gossip was figuring out how to cut through the chatter of all the people who only thought they knew something useful in order to find the one, often-quiet person who had actually seen something important. Betty and Josie could help with that.

  Helen climbed into her waiting car and said to Jack, "Danica's brother is supposed to get to the B&B this afternoon, but I don't know exactly when. The sooner you and Rebecca can get over there, the better. I need to talk to Betty and Josie before my Tai Chi lesson, but if you drop me off at the nursing home now, I can call a cab to take me where I need to go after that."

  Jack put the car in gear. "I'll tell Barry to expect your call."

  Helen texted Rebecca to tell her to expect Jack to pick her up in about half an hour. During the rest of the brief ride from the law office, Helen turned her thoughts to the mysterious activities at the nursing home. If all that was happening was the renewal of the director's contract, they shouldn't have needed more than a few brief meetings. And they certainly wouldn't have needed to talk to Martha Waddell at any length. Everyone already knew her opinion of her boss: that he was a lazy, marginally competent director who ought to be replaced by someone better. Namely, herself.

  Jack parked in front of the nursing home, and Helen climbed out, taking her yarn bag and workout backpack with her. "Call me right away if you find out anything about Danica's brother. Or the B&B staff."

  "Whatever you want, Ms. Binney."

  Helen didn't wait for him to leave—he wouldn't go until she was out of sight—but made her way into the nursing home as quickly as she could. She didn't want her slowness to cause Jack and Rebecca to miss Damian's arrival by mere seconds.

  At the registration desk in the lobby, she hesitated over the logbook's question about the reason for her visit. Mostly, she wanted to ask Betty and Josie who the top contenders were for the mystery man who'd replaced Spencer in Danica's affections, but Helen also had questions for Martha Waddell if she was at the nursing home.

  Betty and Josie weren't going anywhere, but Martha's schedule was more unpredictable.

  "Do you know if Martha's in her office?"

  The young woman—the same one as the previous day, for a change—nodded. "She just got back, and she didn't say anything about not being available for visitors."

  Helen put Martha's name in the "reason for visit" column. "I know the way."

  "I'll let her know you're coming."

  Martha's office was in the far back corner of the main floor. It had once been a sun-room attached to the back of the mansion, with stone floors and small panes of glass forming three of the walls. The solar gain was pleasant during the winter, but at this time of year, thick shades covered the windows, robbing the four-foot-high art sculpture just inside the door of the light that usually made it so impressive. Still, the room was uncomfortably warm.

  Despite the heat, Martha hadn't taken off the jacket of her suit. She was a tall, dark-skinned woman in her thirties who always wore loose skirts that fell to mid-calf and hid any feminine curves. The only thing out of the ordinary today was that she was standing behind her desk, with her back to the door, looking out at the view, instead of sitting hunched over her laptop.

  Helen tapped on the open door to announce her arrival. Martha turned, her usually stoic, imperturbable expression replaced with a smile that engaged every single muscle in her face.

  That was when Helen knew what the meetings had been about.

  She shut the door behind her and made her way across the room. Her own smile was probably as broad as Martha's.

  "Congratulations," Helen said.

  Martha blinked. "For what?"

  "For becoming the first-ever female director of the Wharton Nursing Home," Helen said. "Probably the youngest ever, too."

  Martha's eyes widened. "Who told you? It's supposed to be a secret until next week."

  "It was just a hunch. I've always been good at solving human puzzles."

  "You can't tell anyone," Martha said as she dropped into her chair behind the desk. "It's not final yet, and I don't want to give the selectmen any reason to change their minds."

  "I can keep secrets," Helen said. "Except from Tate. But he won't tell anyone. I can't even get him to tel
l me his secrets most of the time."

  "That's okay. You can tell Tate," Martha said. "Just don't mention it to anyone here. Especially not Betty and Josie. "

  "Don't worry. I've got another juicy bit of gossip for them to gnaw on."

  * * *

  Helen had forgotten that it was Charity Cap Day, when the activity room was turned into something of a factory for knitting, crocheting, and sewing hats for preemies and chemotherapy patients. Instead of being seated in their comfortable chairs by the unlit fireplace, Betty and Josie were making their rounds, checking on the various stations for producing, sorting, and packing the hats.

  Helen had finished a hat last night, and she'd tucked it into the bottom of her bag to donate. It was considerably better looking than her earlier efforts, although she still felt a bit embarrassed when she compared it to the beautiful creations of the more accomplished crafters here today.

  She made her way over to the box that held finished chemo caps, but hesitated before dropping it in. Maybe she ought to take it home, unravel it, and try again.

  Josie appeared at her side and claimed the crumpled cotton lump. She stuck her hands inside the cap, spreading her fingers to form a makeshift hat stand. Stretched out like that, it looked reasonably head-shaped.

  Josie folded the cap neatly and dropped it into the box. "Don't worry. As long as it's warm, it doesn't matter all that much what it looks like."

  Betty came over to join them in time to hear Josie ask, "So have you figured out who killed Danica yet?"

  Helen was reluctant to discuss the situation anywhere that Spencer's parents might overhear the conversation. She gave the room a quick once-over, but didn't see either of them.

  "If you're looking for the Nagles," Betty said, "they aren't here. Tracy has a session with his respiratory therapist, and Karen always goes with him so he doesn't get disoriented and panic."

  "Good. I don't want to worry them." Helen was aware that Betty and Josie weren't the only gossips in the nursing home. They would keep quiet if asked, but Helen wasn't sure about the rest of the residents. Especially Hank Peterson's uncle, who was in his wheelchair over by the front window. He'd been a great source of what should have been confidential information on police investigations in the past, and the information likely flowed in both directions, to and from the nursing home.

  Helen lowered her voice before continuing. "A certain homicide detective who shall remain nameless has decided Spencer killed Danica because she cheated on him."

  "Who would cheat on Spencer?" Josie said without bothering to keep her gravelly voice from carrying. "He's gorgeous. And so kind. Whenever he comes to visit his parents, he always takes the time to thank the staff for doing their jobs. He even comes over and pretends to be interested in our chemo caps. I can't imagine anyone kicking him to the curb."

  "Relationships aren't that logical," Betty said. "You know that as well as anyone."

  "True," Josie said. "I loved my husband, but darned if I could tell you why. He was a bit of a jerk sometimes, and some people would say he looked like a troll." She gave her friend an annoyed look.

  "I never called him a troll," Betty said with only a hint of irritation. "I just said that his hair kind of looked like those troll dolls that were so popular when we were kids."

  "He was trying for a Mohawk," Josie said indignantly. "You know that."

  "All I know is that it looked like a troll doll's hair. All wispy and sticking out straight in all directions."

  "Helen would never have called him a troll."

  "I didn't call him a troll," Betty insisted.

  "You'll have to show me a picture sometime." Helen had never heard the two best friends get so irritated with each other. Even the calm, deliberate Betty was close to losing her temper. It was as if the hot weather was affecting even people who were indoors, where they should have been relatively safe from the worst of its influence. Perhaps the heat rage was contagious, and visitors to the nursing home brought it with them. "Right now, though, I need your help."

  "So you are trying to find Danica's killer." Josie said triumphantly. "I knew you wouldn't stay out of it."

  "I'm just doing what I can now that Peterson has taken over the investigation," Helen said. "Tate is representing Spencer, but it would help if they had some alternative suspects. And Tate needs to know if it's true that Danica had been cheating. If it is, then Spencer has a motive for killing her, and Tate will need to find a way to explain it away."

  "That's easy," Josie said. "Anyone who knows Spencer can tell you that if he'd found out that Danica was in love with someone else, he'd have bowed out gracefully and wished her a happy life."

  Spencer was a good person, but Helen had a hard time imagining anyone being quite so saintly as to not even harbor a fleeting bit of anger. "Is that what his parents told you? They might be a little biased."

  "They didn't have to tell me anything," Josie said. "I'm a good judge of character. I had to be as a teacher. Otherwise my students would have walked all over me."

  "She does read people well," Betty said, their argument apparently forgotten or forgiven. "I find it hard to believe Spencer would have killed someone who rejected him. I'm not saying he could never hurt anyone, but he really has been good to people here. If there's anything we can do to help him, we'd be happy to."

  "We could be character witnesses," Josie said. "The nursing home director would have to give us a day pass if we got a subpoena to testify, wouldn't he?"

  "I don't know about that, but I'll ask Tate. It would be more useful, though, if you could find out if anyone knows whether Danica really was cheating on Spencer, and if so, who it was. I'm sure the police would like to ask him a few questions. In fact, it's a little odd he hasn't identified himself to the police." At least no one had mentioned it to her, and Helen thought Peterson would have gloated a bit more if the new boyfriend had pointed a finger at Spencer. "The new guy might even have killed her. From what I've heard, Danica's relationships tended to be a bit tumultuous."

  "If anyone here knows anything, we'll find out," Josie promised.

  An image flashed through Helen's mind of Josie tying the nursing home residents to wheelchairs and then shining bright lights in their faces, insisting that they knew more than they'd told her, and she wasn't letting them go until someone finally squealed on whoever Danica's new lover was.

  "Don't do anything drastic," Helen warned. "Just ask around. Subtly."

  "I'll make sure she behaves," Betty said.

  "Thanks." Helen was about to leave when she remembered another question she had. "One more thing. Do either of you know anything about the local state representative, Jane Silvia?"

  Betty and Josie shared a glance. Josie started to answer, but Betty placed a hand on her forearm to stop her. "Why don't you go check on the fleece hats? They're starting to pile up. We should get another box to store them in."

  Josie looked like she was going to refuse, but then she said, "You're right. I tend to froth at the mouth whenever that woman's name comes up. I'll leave you to explain."

  Betty waited until Josie was out of earshot. "One of Josie's favorite students is married to Jane's son, and it hasn't been a good marriage. He's following almost exactly in his parents' footsteps, starting with getting married too young, when they were still in high school and definitely not mature for their ages. Jane's ex-husband was abusive, and I have to admire the strength it took for her to get out of that relationship. Now she's a big champion of programs to reduce domestic violence. The problem is that she can't see that her dear, sweet boy is actually just like his father. Abusive and violent. His mother is so deep in denial that she blames everything that happens between the couple on her daughter-in-law. Claims the girl is just a lazy, whiny wimp who takes everything out of context in a play for attention."

  "I'm starting to see why Jane and Danica were friends," Helen said. "They both valued strength and were intolerant of anyone who was weaker than they were. Of course, I doubt
Danica had any experience with being physically abused, so they didn't share that. Danica was more likely to be the aggressor in any violent encounters"

  "I suppose it makes sense," Betty said, "but I didn't think Jane had any friends left from around here. Constituents, sure, but not real friends. Back when she got divorced, it was like she was separating from her friends too. She seemed to think her friends had betrayed her by not saving her from her husband. She only spends the bare minimum of time here in her district."

  "Perhaps you could get me some more information about her too," Helen said. "I'd like to know why Jane Silvia is so concerned about getting justice for Danica."

  "Do you think she might be protesting too much?" Betty asked. "Could Jane Silvia have killed Danica?"

  "I don't think so." Helen thought of the picture at legislature's website. The overall impression was of a slight and fragile woman. Unless she'd changed substantially since that photograph had been taken, Jane Silvia was about as likely to have physically overpowered Danica as Helen herself was. "It just seems odd that she was so quick to intervene. That's a rookie move, and she's been in the legislature long enough to know better."

  Betty shrugged. "Anyone can make an occasional rash decision."

  "I suppose." Helen glanced at the sunshine pouring in the front windows, increasing the burden on the nursing home's jury-rigged air conditioning. "Maybe she just caught the heat-rage epidemic that's been going around."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Helen checked her phone to see if Jack or Rebecca had reported in. There was no word at all from Rebecca, and the only message Jack had sent was confirmation that the cabbie, Barry, would be waiting for her when she was ready to go for her Tai Chi lesson.

  As promised, the cab was idling at the base of the front stairs when Helen emerged from the nursing home. Apparently Jack hadn't told Barry the destination, and he seemed taken aback at the idea of Helen going to a martial arts studio.