by Leigh Hearon
“One of Gustav’s kitchen helpers just showed up in the stables. At least, that’s how he introduced himself,” Annie went on. “I only arrived this afternoon and haven’t met any of the kitchen staff. But the guy was dressed in a white tux, held a tray of tall drinks, and said Chef Gustav had sent him. We took him at his word.”
“I recognized him,” Patricia said softly. “I’ve seen him on several occasions. Mostly clearing dishes from the buffet, that sort of thing. I’m sure he’s had a background check. Gustav wouldn’t hire anyone without making sure they were honest.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Ms. Winters.” The deputy nodded at Annie to continue.
“Anyway, the waiter asked if we wanted a glass of raspberry iced tea, and we did. In fact, we simply devoured them.” Annie remembered how refreshing the drink had been. “The tea couldn’t have come at a better time.”
Deputy Collins nodded. “And what did you do with the empty glasses?”
Annie and Patricia glanced around.
“I think we just put them on the table,” Patricia said.
“I remember—we were just finishing them when we heard the gong from the house. Betsy had just left.”
“Gong?” Now Deputy Collins seemed surprised.
“To call us back to the house for a preprandial drink,” Patricia explained.
“Yes, and we were late. We put the glasses on your table, Patricia, and skedaddled.”
“Where was Ms. Gilchrist’s glass?”
Annie tried hard to remember.
“I’m—I’m not sure. I don’t remember where Betsy left it. Surely, she wouldn’t have walked off with it. It was crystal, and belonged to the house. I assume she left it on the table, but I can’t be certain.”
“Well, there are no glasses on the table now.” Deputy Collins looked hard at the women, as if they were somehow responsible for their absence.
Enough of this, Annie thought. The same waiter who’d brought the glasses probably picked them up as soon as they’d left the stables.
“What do you think did cause the accident?” Annie blurted out the question. “Hollis said Betsy wasn’t speeding. Do you think she swerved for a car or an animal? Or do you think it was a heart attack?”
The deputy shook his head. “Too early to say. We’ll see if any of the neighbors saw or heard anything, and talk with the other houseguests to see if anyone else knew the deceased.” He looked intently at both women. “But just to be clear—there’s nothing either of you observed—no sign that Ms. Gilchrist was feeling sick, under the influence, or otherwise impaired? Anything at all that might have affected her driving?”
“Absolutely not. She seemed to be in perfect health. And very happy about acquiring her new horse,” Patricia said firmly.
“She did tell us her husband is a cardiologist. Presumably he’ll be able to tell you if Betsy had a medical condition.” Annie hoped the deputy would take the hint and end the interview. But he just sat there, patiently waiting for one of them to say more.
Annie paused, then decided to speak bluntly. “Is there anything more you need from us or are we free to go?” She’d recently uttered that line more than once in eastern Washington and had hoped she’d never have to say it again.
Deputy Collins grinned at her. “That should do it.” He spoke into the tape recorder that had been running for the past forty-five minutes. “This concludes the interview of Patricia Winters and Annie Carson. It is now”—he glanced at his watch—“7:35 P.M.” The deputy shut off the machine and put it in his shirt pocket.
“Thanks, ladies. We’ll call you if we need anything further, but I doubt we’ll have to.”
“So, this is just another tragic roadside accident?” Patricia sounded a little bitter, Annie thought.
“Happens every day in Ventura County.”
Annie couldn’t help thinking about another recent tragedy—the loss of the sale of Beau Geste. She was ashamed to admit she felt this loss almost as keenly as she did for the woman who had been so thrilled to acquire the horse.
* * *
The good news was that the other guests had finished dinner by the time they returned to the house, and Gwendolyn was nowhere in sight. The bad news was that Annie was starving. The pretzels on the plane had hardly sufficed as a meal, and aside from Gustav’s excellent iced tea, she’d had no other sustenance since six that morning. Patricia begged off exploring the kitchen; the accident had sucked all the life out of her, she told her friend, and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. She would check in with Liz, but then she was shutting her door.
Annie gave her friend a sympathetic smile and nodded. She watched Patricia trudge up the spiral staircase leading to her suite, her shoulders sagging. Annie hoped a good night’s sleep would bring her back to life. That, and immersing herself into Liz’s dressage work in the morning.
Considering that seven other guests were staying here, the house seemed far too silent. She wondered where everyone possibly could be. Surely, if they were out by the pool, she’d hear the splash of water or their conversations. All she heard now was the solemn tick-tock of a grandfather clock in the living room. It reminded her of her own Seth Thomas clock at home. Annie found the sound somewhat soothing.
“Oh, there you are, dear,” Miriam appeared in the open foyer, a bit breathless. Annie noticed she grasped a cane in one of her small, birdlike hands. “Everyone’s gone for the moment. Nicole and Gwendolyn are visiting with Harriett in her cottage, and Amy and Lucy are playing tennis. I don’t know where Tabitha is, but probably she’s in her room, memorizing her test for the zillionth time. I saw Liz go up earlier.”
Annie’s uncomprehending stare did not go unnoticed.
“Oh, heavens, you must think I’m stark raving mad. Perhaps I am. You didn’t have time to meet the rest of our houseguests, did you, before being whisked off to talk with the local constabulary? Well, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with the rest of the gang over breakfast tomorrow. I just wanted to get everyone out of the common areas before you returned. I could see that Patricia was terribly upset by this unexpected accident, and I suspected you didn’t want to answer more questions from the girls when you returned.”
The Darbys really were the most thoughtful people. Annie smiled broadly and impulsively gave the tiny woman a quick hug.
“You are so right. Patricia was all in and couldn’t have handled any more conversation, no matter how well intended.”
“Which it wouldn’t have been. People are ghouls when it comes to other people’s misfortunes. Surely you must have noticed that in your own cases.”
Her own cases. Annie had never looked upon the murders she’d helped solve as her own. She was mostly an innocent bystander who’d happened to be caught in the middle of several murderous frays.
“I guess I’m a bit more tough-skinned when it comes to sudden death. Although from what I can tell, Betsy’s truly was accidental, and not planned.”
“You never know,” Miriam said darkly. “If she has been murdered, I’m glad you’re here. Patricia told us all about what happened in the Washington desert last summer. I was highly impressed with your detecting abilities.”
Annie would never have called eastern Washington a desert although if dry heat, sparse greenery, and brown mountains were desert conditions, then she guessed it might qualify as one. But she wasn’t going to contradict her hostess, especially since she was being complimented in such glowing terms.
“You must be starving. Have you had a chance to see the kitchen yet?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m always eager to explore my favorite room in any house.”
“Let me show you where Chef Gustav holds court and give you a quick tour at the same time. As you can see, all the common space is on the main floor. The library’s the next room over, and you’re welcome to peruse our bookshelves any time you wish. People don’t use the room as much as they used to, and it’s a great pity. If I don’t have two or three good boo
ks going at any one time, I feel my life is somehow not in sync.”
“Me, too. By the way, I love your open-air foyer. It’s incredibly inviting.”
“Thank you, Annie. Hollis and I used to spend a lot of time in Mexico, and when we were ready to build, I insisted on a traditional Spanish style.”
“It’s great the way it brings in the scent of the great outdoors, even though I don’t know most of your trees. Except for the cedar. That I recognize. We’re big on cedar in the Pacific Northwest.”
“We call that incense cedar. Calocedrus is the official Latin name. It actually comes from the cypress family. We chose it because of its drought tolerance, and believe me, not many other trees have survived what we’ve been through the past several years.”
Annie nodded. They were now walking down a long corridor. Rather than an overhead ceiling, Annie saw glass partitions instead.
“You’ve really made use of the natural sunlight,” she told Miriam.
“We try to. We put in solar panels when most people didn’t even know they existed. Thought we were nuts. If they paid our electrical bills, they’d understand.”
Annie remembered the central air-conditioning throughout the enormous stable structure.
“You certainly haven’t stinted on the horses’ comfort.”
“No, we haven’t. Hollis thinks I’m a bit over the top when it comes to their care, but I pay no attention when he starts to raise his eyebrows. It’s just the way I am.”
Annie found she liked Miriam more every minute.
“I hear you once were a dressage student yourself.”
“Still am, even though I ride very infrequently now. The learning never stops. But that’s the way it is in any horse discipline, don’t you agree, Annie?”
“I do.”
They’d reached the end of the hall, and Annie saw two large swinging doors on the left. Miriam gestured with her one free hand.
“The kitchen’s right there. The staff is usually gone by eight, so you’re free to rummage the refrigerator and shelves all you want. If Chef Gustav has prepared something for tomorrow, he’ll mark it with a ‘HANDS-OFF’ sign so you’ll know not to touch it on pain of death.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Gustav is fiercely proud of what he serves us and does not appreciate it when a ramekin of crème brûlée disappears or a leg of duck confit goes missing. A few of our houseguests have found out the hard way. And they haven’t been invited back. I miss one or two of them, but I’d miss Gustav more.”
Miriam turned to Annie. Her eyes were a startling blue hue, and quite beautiful. They reminded Annie of another actor who’d had such vibrant eyes, the kind you could get lost in.
“You may think I’m rude,” Annie stammered, “but I can’t help but ask. Am I right in thinking you starred in a movie with Paul Newman?”
Now the blue eyes twinkled back at her.
“I did, indeed. In many ways, I consider that role the highlight of my career. But don’t tell Hollis. He was usually my leading man, especially in the old days.”
“I promise.”
“I’m going to leave you now, but feel free to explore the rest of the property tomorrow. The tennis court is just over the rise, and next to it, there’s an exercise room and small spa. I’ll see you at the stables tomorrow. I never miss the chance to see the girls in training before an event. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll beam myself up to my suite. It was a pleasure talking with you. I look forward to more conversations.”
And with that, Miriam touched an almost invisible button on the far wall and two elevator doors silently opened. Annie managed to say good night before the doors noiselessly closed.
She pushed the swinging doors into the kitchen, eager to begin her forage for food. But contrary to Miriam’s assurances, she was not alone. At the head of a huge white table sat a small, very plump man with a jet-black goatee. The white chef’s coat he wore gave Annie little doubt as to his identity. When she realized he was muttering in French, all doubts disappeared.
“Merde! Les imbeciles me fatigues! Dégage!”
Annie had taken enough French in high school to know that the chef thought someone, maybe more than one person, was an idiot. She stood silently by the doors and considered simply leaving. But then, she was really, really hungry.
She cleared her throat. Chef Gustav whirled around in his chair and looked toward the doors. It was a remarkably quick response for a man with such a round girth.
“Qui est là? Who comes here?”
Annie responded as blandly as she could.
“Excuse me, Miriam said I could come in and perhaps get a bite to eat. I’m Annie Carson, one of the houseguests, probably the last to arrive.”
The chef’s change in demeanor was instantaneous.
“But of course! Mademoiselle Carson, come in, come in! I comprehend that you and Mademoiselle Winters were taken off to the gendarmes this evening before you were served dinner, n’est-ce pas? Those swine! To deprive you of your evening meal, it is unthinkable! Please, sit down and let me serve you.”
The chef heaved himself out of his chair and waddled toward her, his face beaming.
“But let me first introduce myself. I am Chef Gustav, at your service.”
Annie held out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Chef Gustav.”
“Enchanté.”
These amenities over, Chef Gustav happily continued his journey to the refrigerator and began pulling out covered dishes.
“Tell me, Mademoiselle Carson, do you have any food restrictions I should know about? You are not, I trust, one of the gluten-free? Or, perhaps, a person who does not care for boeuf?”
“Nope,” Annie replied, greedily taking in the array of dishes the chef was assembling on the counter. “I eat everything. And I love meat.”
Chef Gustav beamed. “Then let me prepare a dinner that will make you curl up like a cat and sleep like a baby. But first, a glass of wine.”
Pulling out a wine bottle with a pinkish hue, he delivered a glass of it to Annie and watched carefully as she took a tentative sip. The wine sparkled on her tongue, and she tasted both fruit and a hint of spice. It was heavenly.
“Marvelous!” she told him. “What is it?”
“Ah, mademoiselle, it is a new rosé from the heart of Provence.”
“I wonder if I could get this at home.”
“Mais non, mademoiselle! This is imported especially for the Darbys, and only because the proprietor is my beau-frère, or, how you say, my brother-in-law. But I will happily share it with you while you stay here.”
“Merci beaucoup!”
Over her dinner, Annie learned that she and Patricia were not the only ones who had been subjected to a conversation with the police.
“Mon Dieu! They come into my kitchen just as I am serving dinner to the ladies! And they have the effron-terie to expect me to drop everything and talk!”
Annie’s mouth was full, but she shook her head to express her own displeasure at such rudeness.
“But that is not all! Non! Then they ask me to show them the thé glacé I serve to the ladies this afternoon. Why? I ask. Are you thirsty? We have very good well water here, and I offer it to them. They will not get my thé glacé, I assure you. Not when they disrupt my kitchen and think nothing of it. The waiters are cowering in the corners. They are not doing their job. And my soufflé is in severe danger of falling! No, I say, they shall not have my création. Let them drink water. Bah!”
Annie tried very hard to keep a straight face during Chef Gustav’s tirade. The best way to accomplish this was to take another bite of food. Fortunately, her dinner companion was far too agitated to notice Annie’s attempt to hide her smile.
“And do you know, Mademoiselle Carson, the reason they ask for the thé glacé? It is not to slake their thirst. Not at all! It is because they think I have somehow poisoned the woman who dies in the accident de voiture! It is unbelievable!”
A
t this, Annie set down her fork and took another sip of the excellent rosé.
“It is ridiculous,” she agreed. “Three of us had your iced tea this afternoon, not just the woman who died. It was marvelous. There wasn’t a drop left in any of our glasses. So, you see, you couldn’t have poisoned anyone.”
Chef Gustav sat back in his chair with a small thump, a satisfied gleam in his shiny black eyes.
“That is what I tell them! But do they believe it? Bien sûr que non! They are stupid, incapable of forming a single idée intelligente. So I give them what I have left. But if this is how the local gendarmes conduct murder investigations, I fear for all of us!”
Annie put down her fork.
“Murder investigation? I assumed it was an accident. The woman had a seizure or a heart attack . . . or something.”
Chef Gustav firmly shook his head and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Écoute attentivement, Mademoiselle Carson! The accident de voiture, it looks innocent, but it is not. It is murder most foul, and one of our guests is responsible. There is someone evil staying in this house, I can smell it! And I have a superb nose.”
Chapter Five
THURSDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 12
Annie awakened the next morning to glorious sunshine streaming through her open window. She stretched languidly, sinking into the soft bedding. Then she remembered Betsy Gilchrist’s death and flung the sheets away. Chef Gustav’s words were still very much on her mind.
She’d tried mightily the previous night to pry more information out of the Frenchman but without success. The only thing she’d managed to pry out of him was a second helping of a lemon tart that had made her whimper with pleasure just looking at it. And that hardly had been a difficult job.
But Chef Gustav had refused to elaborate on his cryptic remark. And there it remained, swirling around in her brain: There is someone evil staying in this house. It was a simple statement, completely unsubstantiated and unproven, but to Annie, utterly provocative. Although why anyone would want to kill nice Betsy Gilchrist was beyond her ken.
