Final Chapter: A Megan Montaigne Mystery (Megan Montaigne Mysteries)

by Pam Stucky

  “Before you go back to your room—” Megan said, and then she opened the door that led from her apartment to the hallway that led to the other rooms. She looked at Sylvie. “May I show you something?”

  For the first time in an hour it seemed Sylvie was back in the present. “Yes?” she said.

  Megan led Sylvie and Wade down the hallway to the door that separated the library from the living quarters. Opening the door, she took them down the grand staircase, into the library, and over to a wide open space that had once been part of the home’s “great room.” The room jutted out beyond the rest of the building toward the river, its corners cut so the space had the shape of half of an octagon. Large, strong panes of glass filled the walls from eighteen inches off the ground all the way up to nearly the top of the high ceiling. Thick rustic columns between the panes gave support to the building, and framed the view out over the water and the sky and the trees. In the home’s new life as a library, the space was now set up as a reading area, with cozy, overstuffed leather chairs and ottomans, low tables with reading lamps, and a gas fireplace at one side.

  “Sometimes, I like to come sit down here, by myself, when the library is closed,” Megan said quietly. “Even though I have a really nice apartment upstairs, there’s just something comforting about being in the library. All of humanity is here,” she said, looking around at the stacks of books. “Every pain a person has ever endured, every joy, everything anyone has ever felt, it’s in here. When I’m here with all these thoughts, I never feel alone. When I’m here, I always know that others have gone through worse, and survived.” She looked at Sylvie. “I don’t know if it would help you. But you’re free to use it, if you need to come and sit and think, and be alone without being alone. The library opens at noon, and staff start coming around eleven-thirty. But other than that, consider all this yours.”

  Sylvie looked around the nook, her eyes glistening in the dim light. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I just might.”

  Megan showed Sylvie and Wade how to turn on the fireplace and where the light switches were, and then they all headed back upstairs.

  Sylvie and Wade said goodnight and disappeared into their suite. Megan realized she’d left the others without a thought. When she walked back into her apartment, though, she found the weight of the room had lifted a bit, and the buzz of the conversation was lighter again as well.

  “How long have you been a literary agent?” Edison was saying as Megan made her way back into the living room. He was seated in one of Megan's favorite chairs, seemingly relaxed with his half-full glass of wine, but still he looked ready to spring out of the chair at any moment. When she looked closely, though, Megan could see his eyes were still tired, still haunted. Megan wondered if he ever really let his guard down, or if always being busy was his way of coping with life.

  “Eight years,” Emlyn said. “Just a few months with Romy. Her regular agent just had a baby a month ago. I guess I’ll have to find another superstar to hitch my wagon to now,” she said. Emlyn didn’t seem to notice the puzzled look that crossed Edison’s face, but Megan did.

  “And you?” Baz asked Edison. “How did you know Romy?” He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, his eyes slightly glazed over. Megan wondered if he’d started drinking in their room before coming to dinner. “A hot property like her, that would have appealed to me, too, if I’d been on the prowl.” Emlyn swatted at his arm without looking at him.

  “She wasn’t anyone’s property,” Megan mumbled. She regretted her outburst, but no one seemed to have heard.

  “We met at some author thing she did a while back,” Edison said vaguely. “Before I was divorced even. I’m a big reader. That’s why I wanted this house to become a library. I’d read most if not all of her books at the time. I went to the event, and struck up a conversation with her, and we hit it off.”

  It occurred to Megan that once a person was gone, their side of the story was gone with them. Had Edison and Romy hit it off right away? From what Romy had told her, she wouldn’t have described it that way. But it could still be true. Romy may have downplayed the meeting, or Edison could be exaggerating, or the truth could lie somewhere in between. Megan remembered thinking at the party, when Edison wrapped his arm around Romy’s waist, that the relationship seemed deeper than Romy had indicated. If, in fact, Romy had been intentionally misleading about how close she was to the man, why had she done so? From whom was she trying to hide it? Herself? Someone else? On the other hand, hadn’t Megan herself fallen into Edison’s arms when he had arrived just an hour earlier? And if he wrapped his arm around her just now, might she not reciprocate? Maybe he was just a man who inspired close touch. On this, the jury was out.

  “And you were dating?” Emlyn probed. “You and Romy?”

  Was that a hint of a blush on Edison’s cheeks? “No, no, not at all,” said Edison. He smiled. “She wouldn’t have me.”

  So at least that much was true, thought Megan.

  “Not yet, anyway,” continued Edison. “I can be quite convincing.” He looked at Megan. She could feel him flirting, but she could also feel the strain he seemed to be under. He hadn’t had time to even begin to process Romy’s death yet. Maybe that’s why he had come over, she thought. Maybe he wasn’t ready to think about what had happened just yet.

  “I’ll bet,” said Emlyn, with a flirtatious smile. Baz seemed unconcerned and unimpressed. “Say, you’re a big man in town,” continued Emlyn, seemingly oblivious to whatever Edison might be feeling. “What have the police told you about the murder? They won’t tell us anything, and my bosses want to know what to tell the fans.”

  “Oh, the fans,” said Megan, out loud, unintentionally. The others turned to her in curiosity.

  “Yes?” said Emlyn. “What about them?”

  “Just that they’re on their way. Lily—my friend who runs the B&B—she said they’re coming to town, some sort of vigil.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Emlyn evenly. “That’s why she kicked us out.”

  Megan bristled. Lily had sent the agent and her husband over to the library out of concern for them and their mental well-being. “She wanted to make sure you weren’t disturbed in this difficult time,” she said, mustering up as much warmth and sincerity as she could.

  “Well, it’s nice enough here in Edison’s old home,” Emlyn said, bursting into a special smile again just for the rich bachelor in her midst. It occurred to Megan that perhaps Emlyn was a gold digger; that Romy had told her about Edison and Emlyn had decided to chase him down herself. Baz was such a wet blanket that he hardly seemed to notice anything. Emlyn could flirt with someone right in front of him—as she was—and he’d never know or care.

  “They haven’t told me anything,” said Edison. “All I know is that she drowned.” Edison looked at Megan to see if she knew more. Megan shook her head.

  “Well,” said Emlyn, “my bet is it was that ex-husband of hers. It’s always the ex-husband, isn’t it?”

  “Was he at the party?” said Megan. She hadn’t seen him, but then, she’d left early.

  “Who else would it be?” said Emlyn. “No one else had a motive. Everyone loved Romy.”

  Something about the way Emlyn said it made Megan look her over again. Was there jealousy in that tone? “You’re from New York, right?” said Megan. “What a long trip to make for a housewarming.” She left the unanswered question hanging.

  “Originally Pennsylvania, but yes, I’m in New York now. And no, it’s not a long trip at all,” said Emlyn. “I fly all over the country all the time to work with authors. First class isn’t too bad, usually. Romy told me about the housewarming and I thought it would be fun to see a quaint little logging town.”

  Quaint little logging town? Megan internally rolled her eyes, but outwardly smiled. Remember, you’re the host, she told herself. “It was so nice you could come. I’m sure Romy appreciated it.”

  Edison drained the last dregs of wine from his glass and stood. “I’m sor
ry to leave you all here,” he said, “but it’s been a long day. Megan, thanks again for dinner and for hosting our guests.” He turned to Emlyn and Baz. “If you need anything, you have my number. I know I’m leaving you in very good hands.” He turned to Megan and gave her a long look full of meaning. Exactly what that meaning was, Megan wasn’t sure, but the look was full. “Thank you,” he said, finally. He grabbed his coat out of the hall closet, and left.

  “Well, I guess we’d better be going, too,” said Emlyn, yawning. Megan clearly was not as thrilling company to her as Edison had been.

  “If you need anything, you know where to find me,” Megan said, as Emlyn and Baz walked out the door.

  As she watched them walk down he hall, Megan saw Emlyn lean over to Baz, whisper something, and look back over her shoulder at Megan. Seeing Megan standing there watching, Emlyn elbowed Baz, and laughed.

  SIX

  The next morning, Megan wondered whether she should make breakfast for her guests. Something told her Sylvie and Wade wouldn’t expect it, but Emlyn and Baz might. “Well, then, I won’t,” she said decisively as she sat on the balcony in her fluffy bathrobe and slippers. Her peppermint tea in her favorite yellow mug warmed her hands. The river was still running high, but the day was clear. As far as she could see, there were no eagles around. “I’m definitely going to need a telescope,” she said to the trees, “when winter comes.” But for now, the birds were absent.

  “Susurration,” Megan said, the word popping into her head out of nowhere. The constant hum of the river was so familiar to her by now that she almost didn’t notice it anymore.

  Megan reached for her phone on the table next to her and checked the time: just after seven-thirty. She opened up her messages and sent a quick text to Lily. “Meet at Rae’s at 10.” Rae technically didn’t open the pub until eleven, but Megan knew she’d be there, and that she’d let them in.

  After a few minutes, Lily wrote back. “Okay. Why?”

  “We are detectives. We are solving a mystery.” Megan wrote.

  “Of course we are,” wrote Lily.

  “I’ll invite Max, too,” wrote Megan. “And Kevin. He might have seen something.”

  “Good idea,” wrote Lily. “How are your guests?”

  “You sent me the agent just to get rid of her, didn’t you?” Megan wrote.

  Lily’s response was a series of laughing emojis.

  * * *

  After checking with her guests to make sure they had what they needed, including keys to get into the living quarters and their rooms, Megan headed over to Rae’s. Rae had confirmed that they would be welcome to use her space as Crime Solving Headquarters. Both Max and Kevin said they’d be there, too.

  When Megan arrived, Rae was in the kitchen prepping food for the day. Max was also in the pub, sitting at a thick wooden table rather than the bar, reading something on his tablet. “What’s on the menu today?” Megan called out to Rae as she pulled out a chair at Max’s side.

  “You’ll eat it and you’ll like it!” was Rae’s only response.

  “Good old Rae,” laughed Max, his eyes and teeth twinkling as he looked up to greet Megan. “So you’re a detective now?” he said. “I can always use extra minds. This one is tricky.”

  “They’re doing an autopsy, I assume?” said Megan. A pitcher of water and four glasses had been set out. Megan poured herself a glass and took a sip.

  “Yes, all that. Autopsy, toxicology. Preliminary results are in: drowning. Drownings are tough. It’s almost impossible to tell whether a drowning is a homicide. But an accidental drowning seems unlikely, and suicidal drowning is really difficult. The body fights it too hard.” He sighed and shook his head.

  “Plus, she didn’t seem suicidal,” said Megan.

  Max shrugged. “I didn’t know her well enough to say. People commit suicide all the time and their friends and family had no idea they were having troubles. We’ll need to talk to more people about her state of mind. But certainly there were no obvious indicators. Regardless, all signs point to homicide.”

  “Romy’s sister and brother-in-law and her agent and the agent’s husband are staying in the library guest rooms for now. I had them over for dinner last night. Edison Finley Wright came over too. We talked a bit, but it was pretty subdued. I didn’t feel like I got a lot of insight into anything. Emlyn thought Romy’s ex-husband, Gus, was the obvious culprit.”

  Max nodded. “Yeah, we’re definitely looking into Gus.” He paused. “By the way, you know this is a sensitive situation. I could use any help you can offer, but of course we need discretion.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Max. I’m a librarian,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Meaning …?”

  “Meaning, librarians have to be discreet. We can see everyone’s entire checkout history. Whether you’re in the 294.3 section, or the 613.9 section, I say nothing,” Megan said.

  “And what, exactly, are at 294.3 and 613.9?” Max twinkled.

  “You will just have to come to my house and find out,” Megan said with a coy smile.

  The outside door burst open, framing Lily as she held the door for Kevin, who was running up close behind her. “You rang?” Lily said, shrugging off her jacket and then re-adjusting her ponytail before sitting next to Megan. Kevin took the remaining seat. He nodded at Megan with a small, enigmatic smile that made her again regret not having kept in touch with him.

  “Yes,” said Megan. “Max is here, obviously, to remind us to be professionals. But I think we, with all our brilliant minds, could be of great help to him, by sharing what we may have seen or heard the night of the party. Or any other time.”

  The kitchen doors swung open and Rae appeared, her chin-length white-blonde hair clipped back into a small bun and her white apron clean but for a fresh tomato stain across the front. “New salsa recipe,” she said as she brought in a tray of chips and salsa. “Just made it up. Let me know what you think.” She put the appetizers down and walked away without waiting for a response.

  “Well, where do we start?” Lily said, reaching for a chip. “I was at the party, but to be honest, I was more concerned with making sure the food trays stayed full than I was with watching for murder suspects.”

  “Same,” said Kevin, his eyes on the food. “I wasn’t even with the guests. Just outside with the cars.”

  “Once we get talking I’ll bet you’ll think of something,” Megan said. She’d brought a pen and yellow legal pad with her, and now at the top of the first page she wrote “ROMY” in all capitals, underlining it twice. “Kevin, doesn’t your girlfriend—didn’t your girlfriend work for Romy?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, personal assistant. Out of a job now, I guess. She’s smart.” He looked at Max. “Have you talked to her already?”

  “Not yet,” said Max, typing a note into his tablet. “What’s her name?”

  “Courtney,” Kevin said, bobbing his head ever so slightly. “Courtney Shaw.” He ran his hand rapidly back and forth over his short hair, like he was petting a dog that was a very good boy.

  “S-h-a-w?” Max asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Kevin said.

  Megan wrote this down on her legal pad next to a bullet point. “Courtney Shaw,” she said as she wrote. “Kevin’s girlfriend.”

  Kevin looked at the pad of paper and then at Megan, but said nothing.

  “How long have you been dating?” Max asked, his tone casual.

  Kevin bristled slightly and shifted his chin. The question was normally an innocent one, but somehow in these circumstances everything took on new meaning. “A little over a year,” he said. Megan wrote this down.

  “And she’s been with Romy for …” Max left the sentence for Kevin to finish.

  “A few years?” said Kevin. “I’m not really sure.”

  “She’s not from Emerson Falls, is she?” said Megan. “I don’t remember seeing her before Romy got here.”

  “She lives in Rockport,” said Kevin. “Befor
e that, Hawaii. Before that, Austin, Texas. Before that, east coast somewhere. Look, you should ask her these things, not me. I don’t want to get something wrong.” He shifted in his seat.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Thanks,” Max said. He made some notes on his tablet.

  “Rockport, Hawaii, Austin, east coast,” Megan said, writing quickly. “I think,” she said, hoping to break the tension that had suddenly built up, “that maybe we should just brainstorm. You know how they say there are no bad ideas in brainstorming. Everyone we can think of with a motive. Anyone? The ex-husband is already on the list,” she said, and then she added a bullet point under Courtney’s and added his name. “Gus. I don’t know his last name. Is he also Garrison?”

  His mouth full of chips and salsa, Max nodded. After swallowing, he confirmed: “Yes, Gus Garrison. On the list.”

  “Okay,” said Megan, writing “Garrison” next to “Gus,” then adding “ex-husband,” with an arrow in between. “Who else? I can think of a few people. For one, there’s a guy who came by the library yesterday. Kirk Foster. He said he’s a writer, and that Romy stole his idea for a book.” Another bullet point on her legal pad: “Kirk Foster, author —> plagiarism?”

  Max tapped on his tablet, adding Kirk Foster to his list as well. “Did he say anything that made you suspicious?”

  “He was just creepy,” said Megan. “Gave me the heebie-jeebies.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “Heebie-jeebies,” said Max. “Noted.” He smiled at Megan and typed on his tablet. Megan hoped he was writing “heebie-jeebies.”

  “What about any boyfriends or anything?” said Lily. “Was she dating anyone?”

  Megan hesitated. Of course Edison couldn’t be guilty. Certainly not Edison, with his warm hugs and his generous heart. But if they were brainstorming, they had to include everyone until they could be ruled out. “I don’t know what was going on between Romy and Edison,” she said, trying to keep it light. “They weren’t really an item, I don’t think, but there might have been some interest there. Oh!” she suddenly had a thought. “Edison’s ex-wife. Daphne. I think her last name is still Wright. She sounds like the kind of person who doesn’t want someone else to have what she can’t have. If Edison and Romy were dating, maybe that bothered her.”