Runaway Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  “How did you get to the stables?”

  “I took my Jaguar. It was parked out in back.”

  “And the license plate is . . .”

  Nicole looked at the detective as if he’d gone mad, but reeled off the tag numbers and letters.

  “I drove back to the house an hour later and went to the breakfast room. That woman”—Nicole pointed to Annie—“came in just as I was leaving. Then I went to my room and stayed there until Hollis knocked on my door to tell me the judge had died, and the show had been called off.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. About ten thirty, I think.”

  “Why didn’t you return to the stables after breakfast?”

  Nicole smiled at the detective as if he were a small, ignorant child.

  “I told you. My test wasn’t until midafternoon. There was no reason to be down at the stables hours before I had to ride. I was one of the few riders riding an FEI level test. Prix St.-Georges, to be precise. FEI tests are usually scheduled later in the day, when the show has the biggest crowd.”

  Annie knew most of the other women in the room could have throttled Nicole right about now. It wasn’t just because she’d admitted she had no interest in seeing her fellow riders perform. It was because she was so certain that everyone was dying to see her oh-so-special ride. The woman was completely insufferable.

  “Did you have any contact with Judge Bennett?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Detective Wollcott looked sharply at her, as if he didn’t trust the veracity of her answer.

  “None of us would.” Again, Nicole used the same patronizing voice reserved for people who aren’t very bright. “It’s in the rules. We shouldn’t have any contact with the show judge before we ride.”

  The detective smiled. “That’s good to know. If everyone had followed that rule, perhaps we wouldn’t be here right now, discussing Judge Bennett’s death.”

  Annie felt she had to speak up even though she knew Hollis already had told him about her presence at dinner last night.

  “I’m not a competitor, so not restricted by those rules. I saw the judge last night at dinner. I also saw her this morning, in the judge’s booth.”

  “Did you observe the scribe bringing her tea?”

  “I did. I saw her leave for the house and return, then pour out a cup of tea. She was cutting it pretty close to the wire. The judge had already rung her bell, and the first rider was gearing up to enter the ring.”

  “Is there anything in that sequence you’ve just described that seemed out of place, or odd?”

  She looked at Detective Wollcott, and said firmly, “No, there was nothing I saw that was odd about the way the scribe obtained the tea for the judge, other than being late.”

  She could have added, “But there are a lot of other odd things I could tell you about.” Such as the two people who had been poisoned for no apparent reason. The destruction of one rider’s personal gear, delivered with a nasty note that made no sense. Or Gwendolyn and Nicole’s argument over something that Nicole knew or did that may or may not have pertained to Betsy Gilchrist’s death. Not to mention Brianna’s emotional outburst with Jean Bennett hours before the judge’s death.

  Everything was just too damn odd. Including the new fact that Nicole claimed to have stayed in her room after breakfast for nearly two solid hours before Hollis had knocked on her door. But Annie was sure she’d heard the front door slam moments after Nicole had made her departure from the dining room. If Nicole hadn’t slammed the door, who did?

  The detective looked back at her and nodded. Annie felt better. She would inform the police of all the strange conversations and happenings and would let them sort it out. She had no intention of saying anything now. Not when she knew the killer, or killers, were in the room with her at that very moment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14

  “Shall we move on?” Detective Wollcott smiled at Lucy as he sat down next to her.

  “Okay,” Lucy said faintly. Her checks were bright red. Annie tried to give her an encouraging glance.

  “I set my alarm for six o’clock,” she began in a nearly inaudible voice.

  “Excuse me one moment. It’s Ms. Cartwright, isn’t it? You’ll have to speak up. The microphone on the camera can’t pick up your soft voice. Can you do that? Or we could get a microphone for you.”

  Detective Wollcott’s suggestion that her delivery could be amplified pulled Lucy out of her shell. She sat up, cleared her throat, and began again in a much stronger voice.

  “Amy and I had both agreed to get to the stables by seven,” she started again. “So, we both set our alarms for six and met in the dining room around six thirty.”

  “Amy? Rather, Ms. Litchfield? Can you confirm this?”

  “Yes, everything Lucy’s said is true. And I was with her almost the entire morning. So, I’m just going to say the same thing.”

  “Very good. Then you need speak up only if you want to correct anything that Ms. Cartwright says, or to tell us about when your paths diverged.”

  Lucy glanced back at her friend, looking a bit cheated at having drawn the short end of the stick in regard to talking. But she turned back, looked at the detective, and continued.

  “When we got to the dining room, Tabitha was already there. She was just finishing her breakfast and left about five minutes later.”

  “Thank you for clarifying. Did you talk about anything with Ms. Rawlins during those few minutes she was with you?”

  “Not really. It was too early to talk. And I think we were all thinking about our performances today.”

  “Quite understandable.”

  Detective Wollcott’s empathetic interjections were doing the job. Annie could feel Lucy begin to relax beside her.

  “Breakfast didn’t take very long, and we got down to the stables at seven, like we’d planned. We walked.”

  She paused, looking up at the detective, who merely smiled and nodded to continue.

  “Melissa, our trainer, was already there. She was with my horse, Prince. Prince had had a hoof issue, and we wanted to make sure I’d be able to ride.”

  “How was Prince?”

  “Just fine.” Lucy emphasized the two words and stole a quick look at Gwendolyn, who was looking down as if she found something fascinating about her lap.

  “Prince was groomed already, and after checking on him, I was really there to help Amy groom Schumann. That’s her horse’s name. Neither of us was scheduled to ride until almost eleven thirty, but it takes a while to get button braids done.”

  “How on earth do you create button braids, if I may ask?”

  “They’re quite difficult, actually,” Lucy confided to the detective. “Especially the way Amy wanted them, tight and close together. Each one has to be braided, then folded over, then folded over again into a button. We used yarn to keep the braid in place, then tiny rubber bands to make them into buttons.”

  “And the horse doesn’t mind?”

  “Oh, no. I think they know that when their manes are braided, they’re going to compete. They get super excited.”

  “Funny. When my six-year-old granddaughter gets her hair braided, she knows she’s going to school, and the reaction isn’t quite the same.”

  No one laughed, although Lucy gave Detective Wollcott a smile that seemed truly genuine.

  “We were nearly finished with the mane around the time the show started, so Melissa, Amy, and I went outside to take a break and see the first few riders test. We didn’t want to miss seeing Liz and Sammy. They were scheduled to compete right after the first rider.”

  “How nice of you to support your fellow riders, Ms. Cartwright. One question before we move on. Did you see anyone in this room now at the stables when you were there this morning? I’m talking about the period before the show began.”

  Lucy looked around. “Not really. When we got to the stables, we went straight to our hor
ses’ stalls. They’re next to each other. Anyway, we braided Schumann in his stall, so we wouldn’t have seen anyone if they had come in. And some of the other riders’ stalls are at the other end of the building.”

  Detective Wollcott nodded thoughtfully.

  “We did see a few people once we were outside. We looked especially for Liz, since she was about to ride. We could see her in the warm-up ring with Patricia. We were too far away to make contact, but we could see her. And then we saw Annie, right by the warm-up ring. We all waved, and Annie went over to say hi to Liz.”

  “Anyone else? Ms. Smythe? Ms. Forrester? Or any of the trainers?”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “Let’s see, I’m missing someone.” Detective Wollcott consulted a list in his hand. “Ah, yes, of course. Did you see Ms. Rawlins again, after she’d left the breakfast room?”

  Lucy thought for a moment. “Not then. I saw her afterward, after the ambulance had left and we were all wondering what happened. But not before.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Cartwright. You’ve been very thorough and clear. Ms. Litchfield, do you have anything to add? No? Well, if either of you thinks of anything you might have missed, you will let me know, won’t you?”

  “Excuse me, Detective? There’s just one thing. Remember, Lucy, we needed sharper scissors, and Melissa said she had a pair in her cottage.”

  Lucy’s face turned a brilliant red. “Oh, yes,” she said softly. “I forgot.”

  “Did one of you return to fetch the scissors?”

  “Yes, Lucy did. Melissa said to take the golf cart. It was parked outside, and no one was using it. You weren’t gone long. Only five or ten minutes.”

  “I can see how that little side trip could have slipped your mind, Ms. Cartwright. Please, just tell us what you did on your short jaunt.”

  Lucy seemed to have difficulty speaking. In her soft voice, she said, “I drove to Melissa’s cottage, found the scissors, and returned.”

  “And about what time was this, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know, Lucy! It was ten after eight. I know because Melissa said something about having less than an hour to finish Schumann’s mane, and asked me if I thought that was enough time.”

  “Did you happen to look at your watch when Lucy returned, Ms. Litchfield?”

  Amy looked a bit crestfallen. “No. But honestly, it wasn’t very long, just five or ten minutes. She came back with the scissors, and we went back to work.”

  “And which road did you take, Ms. Cartwright? The footpath or the one used by cars?”

  “The footpath. Until you reach the circular drive. Then you have to veer off to get to Melissa’s cottage.”

  “Did you happen to see any other guests on this brief trip?”

  Lucy shook her head no. She looked as if she’d used up all her words and could say no more.

  Detective Wollcott seemed to sense this.

  “Thank you for remembering that little detail. Now, Ms. Phelps, why don’t you tell us about your morning.”

  And so it went for the next two hours. Each woman gave her version of her morning, from sunup, which Annie learned was when all of them arose, until nine o’clock, when Judge Bennett succumbed to whatever noxious substance had been placed in her tea. It was no surprise that Melissa was the earliest to arise. The woman had worn a path from the house to the stables over the past few days in her dedication to Lucy’s horse. And she’d skipped breakfast that morning.

  “I didn’t sleep very well last night, for some reason,” she told the detective, a bit embarrassed over this nocturnal detail. “I gave up around four thirty and read for an hour or so. I wasn’t hungry, so just grabbed a thermos from the kitchen and headed over to the stables. I think I got there about five forty-five, more or less. I know I had time to look at Prince myself before the show vet showed up at six. We both agreed that Prince was sound, and Lucy would be able to ride him. I knew Lucy would be thrilled by the news. Prince had already been groomed and was enjoying his breakfast, so I went out to the front room to wait for the girls to arrive. I was eating a donut when they showed up at seven.”

  Melissa also confirmed she’d consumed the entire thermos of coffee from the kitchen and had suffered no ill effects.

  As far as early risers, Tabitha came in a close second. She told Detective Wollcott she’d awakened at five, meditated in her room for an hour, then gone down to breakfast. No one was there, and the breakfast buffet looked untouched. Amy and Lucy had shown up when she was about to leave, and no, nothing of substance was said by any of them, they were all too worried about their upcoming performances. They all wished each other good luck, but that was all she remembered. Tabitha walked to the stables and got there around six thirty. She braided her horse’s mane and groomed him, then walked back to the house to take a shower and get dressed. Like Nicole, she wasn’t riding until later in the day, although she intended to return to the stables that morning to watch other riders in the ring. She was pretty sure she’d left the stables at eight o’clock, give or take a few minutes.

  “Did you happen to see Ms. Cartwright on the golf cart?”

  “No. But you can’t see the cottages from the main footpath, so she might have been on it someplace where I couldn’t see her.”

  “Yes, of course.” The detective then turned to Nicole.

  “Wasn’t that around the same time you also returned to the house, Ms. Forrester?”

  Nicole had been staring out the window, studiously trying to give the impression that she was not listening to a word anyone said.

  “More or less.”

  “Well, let’s try to be as precise as we can, shall we? Did you happen to look at your watch before you left, or perhaps when you got back to the house?”

  “I left right at eight,” she said angrily. “My fiancé phoned me just as I was getting into my car. He always phones me at that time. It’s what he does.”

  “How very romantic of him. Did you see Ms. Rawlins walking to the house at any point?”

  “No.”

  “Really? Wouldn’t you have expected to have seen her?”

  “Not really. The footpath is on one side, and the road is on the other.”

  “I saw you.” The accusatory tone of Tabitha’s words was unmistakable.

  “Oh, yes?”

  “Yes. I was ahead of you, and watched you drive right by. I don’t see how you could have missed me.”

  “Must have had my eyes on the road.”

  “Must have.”

  Detective Wollcott decided it was time to intervene.

  “How about back at the house? Did the two of you . . . run into each other there?”

  “No.” Both women answered at the same time, with the same amount of forcefulness.

  “I went straight to my room,” Tabitha said. “I needed a shower.”

  “And I went straight to breakfast,” Nicole said brightly. “I didn’t.”

  A soft knock on the library door caused ten sets of eyes to turn toward it. A moment later, Jorge entered with a large tray of cups and saucers.

  “Excuse me,” he mumbled to the inhabitants of the room. “Chef Gustav asked that I bring in some refreshments.”

  “Thank you so much,” Detective Wollcott said, although he looked a bit critically at the coffee and hot water urns next hauled in. No one went near them.

  “Right.” The detective walked to the back of the room, where the trainers and Gwendolyn were seated. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  “Well, I might as well join the lineup,” Gwendolyn said grumpily.

  “Excellent, Ms. Smythe. Tell us how you spent your morning.”

  “It’s pretty simple. I got up around six, showered and dressed, then walked over to Harriett’s cottage. I got there about seven fifteen. We had coffee, chatted a bit, then drove to the stables in my car, which is a Porsche, by the way, the only one in the lot. I think we got there around seven forty-five?”

  Gwendolyn
looked inquiringly at her trainer, who nodded, and said, “Seven forty-four, if you want to be accurate.”

  “Okay, fine. Seven forty-four. Harriett always knows best.” She sighed. “Harriett went to my horse’s stall first, to check the grooming job on Martinique. I went to the tack room to get a few things, and saw Nicole talking to the stable manager in the aisle, haranguing her about something to do with Andy’s feed. I tried to shut her out. It was too early in the morning to hear someone else’s argument, and Nicole was quite shrill, even by her standards. When I got to the tack room, Tabitha was rooting around in her tack chest and going on and on about her stupid rhythm beads, which were still missing. Since she’d said it all before, I didn’t add to the conversation. I just got what I needed and left.”

  “Even I could hear Nicole,” Harriett told the detective. “She seemed to be obsessed.”

  “Well, if your horse was receiving the same poor care that mine is getting, you’d have been angry, too!”

  “Oh, stop.” Gwendolyn told Nicole, trying to look bored. “Andy’s on the same feed as everyone else in the stables.”

  “That’s the problem!”

  “Getting back to times, Ms. Blechstein, do you recall seeing Ms. Rawlins when you arrived?”

  “Yes, Gwendolyn came back from the tack room and mentioned seeing Tabitha inside. I saw her leave a few minutes later, a minute before eight o’clock.”

  “Did the two of you talk?”

  “Only to tell her what I thought of her grooming job. She said she’d be back in an hour or two to correct her mistakes.”

  “And the two of you stayed in the stables up until the time the show was to start?”

  “That’s correct,” Harriett told the detective. “Although we didn’t go out to watch. We only went out when we heard the commotion and realized something had happened.”

  Gwendolyn looked as if she regretted not seeing the judge’s fatal collapse.

  Looking around the room, the detective spotted Liz and Patricia in the back, on the far side.

  “That leaves just the two of you. It’s Ms. Winters and Ms. Faraday, isn’t it?”