Runaway Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  Who had been present at that event was just as much a blur. She remembered seeing Patricia and Liz as well as Gwendolyn out on the patio. And, of course, Miriam and Hollis. But the whole encounter had been so daunting she’d not focused on individual faces, just the room of elegantly dressed women.

  Then she remembered—she’d counted eight women as she’d approached the patio. That meant Nicole had to have been in attendance. She mentally recounted who should have been there. Six riders, one trainer, plus Miriam. Was that right? If Harriett and Melissa had been in the crowd, then the group would have been at least one rider short. Two, if not all three trainers were present; although Hollis had introduced both Melissa and Harriett on Thursday as “now taking their meals with us.” Surely they wouldn’t have shown up for the Wednesday evening cocktail hour and then not stayed for dinner. But she couldn’t be sure.

  She’d have to ask Liz, who was at both the cocktail hour and following dinner. And perhaps Chef Gustav would remember the number of people who had enjoyed the delicious raspberry iced tea he’d sent down to the stables. Although she’d have to be careful how she asked the question. Along with her hosts, the chef was one person whose good opinion she always wanted. The thought of upsetting the person responsible for her excellent meals was painful to contemplate.

  Liz was now riding on the rail at a trot. She looked less stressed than she had at breakfast, and Sammy didn’t look as if he had a tense bone in his body.

  “Super!” Patricia called out to her student. “Working canter left lead, please, and keep his hind legs under him!”

  Liz looked terrific on her Warmblood. As she cantered past the spectator seats, Annie concluded it was far more likely that Nicole was simply having an affair with Dr. Gilchrist than responsible for his wife’s death. A home wrecker she could visualize. But killing someone might muss Nicole’s hair, plus Annie didn’t think the diva had the stomach for it. Although perhaps in her rage this morning Gwendolyn had managed to yank out a chunk by the roots. Well, Annie would know by lunchtime. She settled in and watched Sammy and Liz practice their test, looking more and more as if they’d always been meant for each other.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Annie was itching to go back to her room to see if Marcus had communicated with her yet. She’d deliberately left her phone in her room. She didn’t want to be pegged as one of those irritating people who constantly look at their device, and she knew that’s what she would have been doing this morning. Excusing herself, she walked out of the stables as Tabitha and Amy brought their horses in. Predictably, Tabitha was prattling on about the lost rhythm beads.

  “I know exactly where I left them yesterday afternoon,” she told Amy. “I always put them in the same place in my tack chest. And I checked with the office manager. There are no surveillance cameras in the tack room, just by the stalls and in the aisles. So, Nicole was lying.”

  Tabitha sounded peevish and put out. Annie felt for her, knowing the fate of the necklace, but simply gave her a sympathetic nod as she passed by. She didn’t know whom she pitied more—Tabitha for her loss or Amy for having to endure Tabitha’s unending tale of woe.

  A red Audi entered the main gates at a slow crawl and Annie saw the driver pause after entering, as if unsure of where to go. No one else was on the pathway leading to the house, so Annie trotted over to see if she could help, mindful that her knowledge of the event was probably the least of anyone here.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Hollis Darby. I’m Brianna Bowen, the technical delegate for the show on Saturday. Do you know where I can find him?”

  Annie had no idea what a technical delegate did at a dressage show. She knew this was not the time to ask but contented herself with knowing at least what one looked like. Short hair definitely was the current style in Southern California. Brianna’s was jet-black and spiky on top, probably kept in place with an expensive hair product. She was petite, along the lines of Miriam’s small frame, and dressed in slim black leggings and a flowing silklike blouse with sleeves just beyond the elbow. Annie noticed she was wearing black high-top Converse sneakers, unlike the thick dressage boots everyone else around here seemed to favor. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of an ad in Vanity Fair, modeling clothes most people would never think of wearing and certainly couldn’t afford. A fresh citrusy scent filled the car interior.

  “He’s usually up at the main house,” Annie explained. “I’m going there now. There’s a place to park in the back. It’s pretty close to the time they serve luncheon, so I expect we’ll find him inside.”

  “Super. Do you mind hopping in and showing me exactly where to park? I haven’t been here before and don’t want to make a mistake.”

  “Sure. I’m Annie Carson, by the way, a friend of one of the trainers and riders.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  The two women shook hands. Annie got into the car and pointed out the parking-lot entrance on the north side. As before, nearly every available space was taken, but Brianna managed to squeeze into a spot at the very end.

  “Are you staying here?” Annie was curious where the technical delegate would be housed, since the judge and scribe had been sequestered.

  “Yes, in one of the guest cottages. Mr. Darby said just to check in with him when I arrived.”

  “Let’s go find him.”

  “Wait a sec. Has the judge arrived yet?”

  “You mean Judge Bennett? I don’t know. I know she’s supposed to be here sometime this afternoon to check out the grounds, but she’s not staying here. She’s being put up at a hotel.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Brianna seemed relieved. That seemed odd. Annie assumed that in her role as technical delegate, Brianna would be working closely with the judge and all the other show officials.

  “Why? Are you not supposed to talk to the judge, like the riders?”

  Brianna looked at her. She seemed a bit confused by Annie’s question.

  “No, not at all. Although we often don’t have a lot of interaction since we’re involved in different aspects of the show. I was just curious.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me. I know next to nothing about dressage, and this is my first show. I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the different rules and regulations. I often ask questions that must seem ridiculous to you.”

  Brianna smiled. “I’m trying to figure out the lay of the land here, myself.”

  They began to walk up the circular driveway leading to the house entrance.

  “Do you know the judge?” Annie asked. She wondered if Brianna’s concern about encountering her was based on her own bad experience. Everyone who’d interacted with Judge Bennett seemed to have had one.

  “Oh, we’ve met,” Brianna said vaguely. “She judges a lot of shows in the area.”

  Her answer seemed to merit no response, so Annie was quiet as they walked up the front steps. The door was opened before Annie could reach for the knob. Hollis stood there, looking as debonair as he’d looked when he’d greeted Annie for the first time.

  “Annie, I see you’ve brought our latest guest with you. I’m Hollis Darby. You must be Brianna Bowen, our technical delegate. Please do come inside and have lunch with us. You can settle into your cottage afterward.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Darby, but I really should start getting organized for tomorrow. If it’s all right with you, I’ll skip lunch and get right to work.”

  “Please call me Hollis, and of course, you can do anything you want. You won’t object if we have a tray of food brought to you, will you? Good. Then why don’t you stay here with Annie, and I’ll get one of our staff to show the way and bring your luggage along.”

  “Super.”

  Annie and Brianna stood on the step. Annie wasn’t quite sure what to say, if anything. She didn’t know the protocol well enough.

  “Um, Annie, you wouldn’t happen to know if the judge is bringing anyone with her to the event, do you?”

  “You mean besides the scribe?”
Annie felt quite proud of herself remembering this. She reminded herself to ask Patricia exactly what the scribe did.

  “Yes.”

  “I really don’t know. But I don’t think so. Hollis didn’t mention anyone else coming with her.”

  “Thanks. Oh, here he is.”

  Hollis came back with one of the tuxedoed waiters, the same one, Annie realized, who had delivered the raspberry iced tea two days before.

  “Brianna, this is Jorge, who will show you to your cottage and collect your things.”

  Jorge and Brianna disappeared around the corner to get the luggage from the Audi. Hollis turned to Annie.

  “I hear you’ve been trying to hunt me down.”

  “I have. There’s something I have to share with you.”

  “That sounds ominous. Well, we’ve got another fifteen minutes before the luncheon gong sounds. Will that give us enough time?”

  “It should be fine.”

  “How about we meet on the private terrace, now that you know the secret password?”

  “Sounds great. Let me just get something out of my room first.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  Annie bounded to her room to retrieve the leather strap and note. She couldn’t help glancing once more at her phone to see if Marcus had left a message. He had. He’d texted a half hour before:

  “If you still want me, I’ll be there on Sunday afternoon. Yea or nay?”

  If she hadn’t been staying in such a posh place, she would have been dancing around her room, shrieking with joy and relief. Instead, she demurely typed back, “Yea. And yay!”

  Chapter Eleven

  FRIDAY AFTERNOON, OCTOBER 13

  “Maybe I should have left it hanging there,” Annie told Hollis. “But I was afraid of how Tabitha might react if she found it.”

  Hollis rocked back and forth in his Mission chair, idly fingering the stalk of dried rosemary Annie had handed to him. He seemed lost in thought.

  “No, you did the right thing,” Hollis finally replied. He sighed heavily.

  The overcast sky of this morning had largely dissipated, and Annie was glad to see the sun triumphantly reassert its rightful place in the sky. She wished her conversation were going as cheerily as the weather.

  “I’m assuming Tabitha filled you in on Nicole’s accusations at the pool.”

  “Yes, she told me about them after we’d left the dining room for our little chat. She said Nicole’s remarks were pretty vicious.”

  “They were. The accusations seemed to come out of nowhere. Tabitha was completely blindsided.”

  “It’s hard to believe that Nicole would accuse Tabitha of stealing from her tack simply as a method to do the same to her gear.”

  “I agree. But frankly, Hollis, there are only two guests I can think of who are capable of doing something like this.”

  Hollis sighed again. “I’d like to think no one would. But I’m not going to argue the point.”

  “When did Nicole return home? Do you know?”

  “I don’t. But it was after I retired, which was shortly after I said good night to you. One of our windows overlooks the private parking area, and I noticed that Nicole’s Jag was still gone. So, I think we can rule her out.”

  “Is it there now?”

  Hollis looked at her. “Why would that matter?”

  “Well, what if Nicole decided to leave her car in town, and her fiancé drove her home? What I’m saying is if it’s there now, then I agree, she likely returned after I’d found the strap. If not . . .”

  Her host looked at her admiringly. “My, my, you really are a detective. Let’s go look, shall we?”

  They rose and walked to the corner of the house, where they could see a portion of the parking area. There was Nicole’s green Jaguar, gleaming in the sun. It appeared not to have a speck of dust on it.

  “I guess we can rule out Nicole.” Annie sighed.

  “You sound so disappointed, Annie.” Hollis sounded amused. “Unless, of course, her fiancé returned the Jaguar under cover of darkness and with a confederate who could drive him home.”

  Annie laughed. “Now you’re being the detective. One with a vivid imagination.”

  They returned to the pavilion. The gong in the front of the house sounded, and both unconsciously looked at their watches.

  Annie cleared her throat. “So that leaves our other suspect.” She didn’t want to say Gwendolyn’s name. Somehow, that would have sounded too accusatory.

  “Yes, Gwen. I have no idea where she was last night. Do you?”

  “I heard her laughing someplace outdoors toward the sports pavilion around ten o’clock. I was coming out of my room to go downstairs. Right before I saw you.”

  “She probably was in Harriett’s cottage. Well, I suppose I can ask both of them how long they were together last night although it would be damned uncomfortable.”

  Annie was silent. She was weighing in her mind whether or not to tell Hollis about the conversation she’d overheard between the two suspects in the library. To her relief, Hollis beat her to it.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about the contretemps between Gwen and Nicole earlier this morning.”

  Annie shook her head, her eyes wide-eyed on Hollis. No way was she going to admit that she was snooping around the library to hear exactly that.

  “Gustav found them face-to-face in what may have been a physical fight a few seconds before. Both declined to divulge the nature of their disagreement. But Gustav said both looked a bit disheveled and, how did he put it? ‘Les dames se comportent comme des chats!’”

  He chuckled, then quickly grew sober.

  “I don’t like what’s happening, Annie. It’s as if poor Betsy Gilchrist’s death has sparked an avalanche of bad feelings among our group. Everyone’s cross with each other, and now poor Tabitha’s miserable rhythm beads have been destroyed by one of us.”

  “This is what happens when you invite Jessica Fletcher to one of your affairs.”

  Hollis laughed. “Nonsense, Annie. It would have occurred anyway. I’m just happy you’re here to help. By the way, you do recognize the significance of the rosemary stalk, don’t you?”

  “I’m afraid not. I thought it was curious.”

  Hollis struck a melodramatic pose, and spoke in a high voice. “‘There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.’”

  Annie’s eyes widened. “Ophelia? The speech from Hamlet, when she goes mad?”

  “Very good! I got to play Hamlet once or twice. This was before Hollywood came calling. Never made a sou on the performances.”

  “So, we’re looking for a Shakespearean scholar as our culprit? I’m afraid that does rule out Nicole.”

  “Don’t be catty, Annie. But if you see anyone bearing columbines, let me know. That’s for disloyalty. And worse.”

  * * *

  Lunch was a mercifully civil affair. Miriam’s rare appearance at the table at this hour made an appreciable difference in everyone’s behavior. Annie was disappointed to see that neither Gwendolyn nor Nicole showed any signs of battle scars and that Nicole’s manicured nails were intact. When Lucy tentatively asked Tabitha if she’d found Jackson’s rhythm beads, Annie tensed, but the reply was polite and with no tinge of hysteria. Tabitha had not found the beads, but she was going to continue to look after lunch. Annie avoided looking at Hollis and snared another piece of asparagus instead.

  Another reason for the relative calm around the table was because Hollis dominated the conversation. There was much that everyone needed to know about the next few days, he told the group, and that pronouncement got everyone’s attention.

  “As you know, the show arena is now off-limits, and the other contestants have first priority on the schooling arenas this afternoon. Please stay away from the areas that we’re preparing for use tomorrow. Our barn staff and many volunteers are working hard to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. The best thing we can do for them right now
is give them a wide girth, no pun intended.”

  A ripple of polite laughter went around the table.

  “While you’re free to hack around the property, I’m sure each of your horses could use a bit of a breather and will appreciate an afternoon off. I do realize you’ll all want to hand-graze to get them out of their stalls, and you’re welcome to do so whenever you’d like.”

  Tabitha and Nicole looked a bit doubtful, but everyone else nodded. Annie was relieved. If none of the trainers was working with her students, Nicole would be unable to ride. It was the surest way Annie knew to keep the Andalusian free from Nicole’s tyrannical training methods.

  “You also should know that our technical delegate, Brianna Bowen, has arrived. She’s staying in the south cottage. However, she’s quite busy getting the show organized, and so you may not have a chance to meet her until tomorrow.

  “Finally, Lucy, if I may be so bold to ask, what’s the verdict on Prince?”

  Lucy glanced at Melissa and smiled tremulously. “His abscess is gone, and both Melissa and the vet say I can ride him tomorrow.”

  For the first time, Lucy received a round of support from her fellow riders. Cries of “Super” and “Good!” and other encouraging comments followed her announcement, and Lucy blushed, making her look quite pretty. It seemed that in the final hour, the small band of dressage riders were beginning to bond. Then again, Annie remembered that each rider really was competing with only herself and her horse, so was it too much to ask that they shore each other up?