Runaway Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  “I’m sure everyone is tired, so we’ll try to be extremely brief.” Patricia’s clipped British accent was a welcome relief from the ugly tones Gwendolyn and Nicole had employed.

  “Why don’t I start?” Liz asked her trainer, who nodded. “We’d agreed that whoever was up first would text the other. That happened to be me. I couldn’t sleep past five, so got up, had a cup of coffee in my room, and texted Patricia that I was heading over to the stables. As you’ve heard, I was the second to ride, at 9:08, and I still needed to groom my horse. I showered, dressed, and got over to the barn pretty quickly—I remember it was around six fifteen on my watch. But Patricia had beaten me to it.”

  “I didn’t have to spend half the time she did dressing,” Patricia explained with a smile. “I just threw on my breeches and headed down to the barn. I walked, of course. It’s so lovely out that time of morning, before the heat takes over. I arrived a little after six and headed straight for Sammy’s stall.”

  “We both saw Melissa looking at Lucy’s horse with the show vet,” Liz added. “Prince is stabled a few doors down from mine. But I can’t remember seeing anyone else, can you, Patricia?”

  Patricia shook her head no. “We had our hands full braiding Sammy’s mane and making him beautiful. I knew people were coming and going, and I expect not just from our group. I’d seen a few new trailers when I was walking down to the stables, so other contestants were driving in at that hour, too. At eight fifteen, we brought Sammy over to the warm-up ring, and that’s where we were when the show started, or was to have started, I should say.”

  “Annie came over briefly to wish us luck.” Liz flashed her a warm smile. “But aside from Melissa and Annie, I don’t recall seeing a single other soul from the house. But this was supposed to be my first test. I had other things on my mind.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Detective Wollcott gave her a small nod and turned to the entire room of women.

  “Thank you all for sharing what you remember. I believe I have a much clearer idea of how you all spent the early hours of the morning, and just want to make sure I have a few things right. It appears that when the dressage show began, the only two riders left in the house were Ms. Forrester and Ms. Rawlins. Am I right? Good. Ms. Faraday was on her horse in the warm-up arena, along with her trainer, Ms. Winters. The rest of you were still in the stables or in the vicinity, with the exception of Ms. Carson, who was seated in the spectator tiers.”

  “Who isn’t competing,” Gwendolyn loudly broke in.

  “Just so. And among all of you, five breakfasted in the dining room at various times. That would be Ms. Carson and Ms. Forrester, who saw each other briefly, and Ms. Cartwright, Ms. Litchfield, and Ms. Rawlins, who also all saw each other in passing. All correct?”

  The women mentioned nodded in assent, although Nicole’s contribution was barely noticeable.

  “Good. One last question. Did any of you, whether you had breakfast or not, happen to go into the kitchen this morning? Ms. Phelps, you’ve already told us you went in to collect a thermos of coffee. Did any of the rest of you have reason to visit the kitchen prior to nine o’clock?

  “Amy and I took in our breakfast plates after we ate.” Lucy spoke up immediately.

  “As did I. On my way out, I also picked up a thermos of coffee,” Annie added.

  “Anyone else? No one else picked up a thermos of coffee? All right, then.” The detective glanced at his watch, then at Deputy Watts. “We’re now concluding the group interview of the Darbys’ guests at 5:05 P.M., and turning off all recording devices. Thank you, ladies, for your patience and understanding. Before you go, if you would please pick up a statement form from Deputy Watts over here. I know we’ve got you all on tape, but we’d also like for you to write down what you’ve told us for our files.”

  Nicole and Gwendolyn had already arisen and were heading for the door. Annie could tell simply from their respective backs that they were not happy at being restrained further from whatever else they wanted to do. Detective Wollcott also sensed their displeasure.

  “I know, it’s not how you’d like to be spending your time right now, but remember, no one is going down to the stables until you get the all clear from me. So now would be an excellent time to get this one last task done.”

  Annie stood up and stretched. She thought Detective Wollcott had done an admirable job of eliciting information out of the group. Handling ten female egos at once was not for the fainthearted, especially when none of the women probably had ever given a statement to the police before in their lives. She turned to get in line for her statement form, but Detective Wollcott was suddenly beside her.

  “Ms. Carson? I think your statement can wait a while. Would you mind coming with me?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  SATURDAY, LATE AFTERNOON, OCTOBER 14

  “I’m not sure I fully understand how you all managed not to see each other. I mean, the house is crawling with women. Yet everyone seemed to have passed like ships in the night.”

  Detective Wollcott looked utterly perplexed, and Annie smiled at him.

  “It’s really not that difficult. Over the past few days, I’ve often been in the Darbys’ home or walking to and from the stables and felt that no one else was about. The estate is quite large. We all have our own private bedroom suites. The place you’re most likely to find anyone is at the stables.”

  “Yes, but even there, no one seems to have run across a fellow rider.”

  “You have to understand that dressage essentially is a very solitary sport. I understand that on occasion there’s some collaboration, but in the main, all these women are competing only with their horse, and that’s their primary focus. Especially on the day of a show. It’s not surprising that everyone had her head in the clouds.”

  The detective shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, the surveillance cameras will bear out the authenticity of their stories. Most of their stories, anyway. Apparently the cameras don’t extend to the bedroom areas or inside the kitchen.”

  “That’s a tough break. Just where you need them most.”

  Annie was sitting with the detective on the private veranda. Chef Gustav had brought out tea and cookies, and Annie made a point of pouring each of them a cup, desired or not.

  “I consider you the observant outsider, Ms. Carson. Did any of these women truly have reason to want Jean Bennett dead?”

  “It’s Annie, please. And no, I can’t think of anyone who actually hated the judge so much that she would try to eliminate her from her role by killing her. She had a reputation as a tough judge, but I’m sure that the majority of dressage judges fit that description.”

  She paused. Now would be the time to tell the detective about the conversation she had overheard between Brianna and the judge. Unfortunately, the Darbys chose that moment to make an entrance.

  “How’s the case progressing, Detective? Any new leads?” Hollis helped Miriam into one of the patio chairs, then sat down himself. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used that line on a movie set.”

  Detective Wollcott smiled wryly. “Not as many as I’d like. I’m sure the deaths of the two women are connected, but until we find out what that connection is, it’s damned tough to pin down a suspect. How are things progressing in the kitchen?”

  Annie had seen two officers enter the kitchen on their way out to the private veranda. She hoped Chef Gustav was nowhere nearby. He would be horrified to see mere mortals, especially ones with badges, pawing their way through every nook and cranny of his beloved kitchen.

  “I was only allowed to peek in, but from what I saw, as best as can be expected. I sent the chef out to the garden and told him not to return until I said so. And your men seem to be doing a reasonable job of keeping things tidy.”

  “Aside from the tea, we’re really only looking for some obvious poison on the premises, so it shouldn’t take too long. As soon as the crime lab gives us a complete analysis, that is. Then we might be bac
k. Just a heads-up.”

  “I understand. If I might ask, how are things proceeding at the stables?”

  “Nearly done. By the time I finish up with Ms. Carson, I think we’ll all be on our way and out of your hair.”

  “Good. Keeping these women from their horses is proving a bit difficult. Which reminds me. Our show staff is trying mightily to find a replacement judge and scribe, with the hope that the show can take place tomorrow. Do you have any objection?”

  “In other words, will the presence of the Sheriff’s Office interfere with your entertainment? Barring another murder in the next twenty-four hours, I should think not. Although if police business requires us to talk to anyone on your property, we will be back, dressage show or no. But honestly, Hollis, a well-publicized murder has just occurred on your estate, and the killer may well be residing in your home. Do you really want the potential liability of another murder taking place when the public’s around? We don’t know who we’re dealing with—someone with a grudge, or someone who’s just plain crazy. I would be very cautious. Have you thought about bringing in private protection? It wouldn’t be a bad idea right now.”

  “Miriam and I have already discussed that option, and we’ve agreed to do so, if for no other reason than to keep the media at bay. And I say that with all due irony. I believe it’s one of the few times when we haven’t wanted the media on our doorstep. But finding a substitute judge who’s willing to come in on such short notice is not as easy as it sounds. The show may or may not go on.”

  “If you decide to do so, I can’t stop you. But it just doesn’t seem like the right time to put on a horse show. Not if it provokes a killer.”

  “You have no idea how unhappy a lot of women would be if they didn’t have a chance to perform.”

  “Well, let me know what happens with your search for a replacement. If you do decide to go forward, I’ll do my best to send out some plainclothes cops to keep an eye out. No promises, you understand.”

  “Thank you, Detective. It’s gratifying to see our tax dollars at work.”

  The Darbys made their exit, leaving Detective Wollcott again shaking his head. He looked more perplexed than before.

  “What is it about these women and their horses?” he asked Annie.

  “It’s complicated,” she told him. “Just trust me on this. More tea?”

  * * *

  The tea was delicious, and Annie felt revived by the beverage, not to mention the heavenly madeleine cookies that accompanied it. The detective seemed to relax, as well. He set his cup down and leaned back in his chair.

  “Let’s get back to the judge. Tell me how each woman felt about her, as far as you know.”

  Annie thought for a moment. “Well, two of the riders knew her only by reputation. They were to ride in front of her for the first time today. That would be Liz and Gwendolyn. The rest of the women had been judged by her before, and none seemed to think too highly of her scoring, although that could just be sour grapes, of course. Harriett, one of the trainers, apparently has had a particularly bad experience with her, but she certainly never threatened the woman in my presence. She only warned her students about how tough she could be.”

  She hesitated. Would the detective care about the destroyed rhythm beads? Well, it couldn’t hurt to tell him.

  “Tabitha mentioned something once about the judge’s having put a hex on her horse although I can’t believe she was serious. However, she is into some kind of woo-woo mysticism, and has been unreasonably upset about the disappearance of her horse’s rhythm beads. What’s worse, she doesn’t know the half of it.”

  The detective sat up. “Rhythm beads? What are those?”

  “Something you drape over a horse’s neck, which, if you believe Tabitha, improves your performance in the ring. She’s got lots of stuff like that—charms and amulets that are mostly horse bling and couldn’t be worn in front of the judge, anyway. They’re not allowed. But Tabitha does takes great stock in them, and when the beads disappeared a few days ago, she went temporarily berserk looking for them.”

  “Do you think this has anything to do with the judge?”

  Annie hesitated. “No. Just one of the guests who is trying to spook Tabitha. And has succeeded.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I found them. The strap that held the beads was wrapped around Tabitha’s bedroom doorknob. All the beads had been taken out. And there was a note that came with it, that said—” Annie tried to visualize the block letters she’d read. “It read ‘remember to quit while you’re ahead.’ Oh, and there was a piece of rosemary wrapped up in the strap. As in rosemary is for remembrance, à la Ophelia.”

  The detective was staring at her as if she was as mad as Hamlet’s sister.

  “I’m not making this up,” she said simply.

  “I wish you were. Go on. When did you find this?”

  “Oh . . . it was Thursday, Thursday night. I was heading for bed around eleven and saw them on Tabitha’s bedroom door. I took them off and gave them to Hollis the next day. He’s the one who made the rosemary connection.”

  “Who do you think is responsible? You must have an opinion.”

  When she’d talked to Hollis, Annie had had no problem asserting either Nicole or Gwendolyn had to have been responsible. Now, in front of the detective, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share what she believed. Detective Wollcott decided to make her job a bit easier.

  “Ms. Forrester, I’m guessing, is one suspect. And Ms. Smythe, perhaps? They each seem to be the type of woman who would stoop to something like what you’ve just described.”

  “Bingo. Although there’s no evidence to suggest either one’s guilt, and in fact, Nicole was off on a date with her fiancé that night, and Hollis is sure her car hadn’t returned at the time I found the broken necklace.”

  “So that leaves Ms. Smythe.”

  “Yes. She was visiting Harriett in her cottage. We don’t know what time she came back to the house.” She paused again and reminded herself to ask Hollis to tidy up this small detail. “And there’s something else you should know about Gwendolyn and Nicole’s relationship. Something that might pertain to Betsy Gilchrist’s death.”

  “I’m listening.”

  As Annie described the contretemps she’d overheard in the library and the ensuing brawl, she wondered if there was anyone in the house who didn’t have a secret they wished kept hidden. It seemed that half the women harbored information about the others that they wouldn’t hesitate to use if it benefited them.

  “Does Hollis know about this, as well?” the detective asked when she was finished.

  “He knows something occurred. The chef overheard the physical fight and stopped it. But he doesn’t know why they were arguing. Or, I should say, if he does, he hasn’t shared it with me.”

  “Interesting. What was your take on Ms. Smythe’s veiled accusations?”

  “My gut tells me Nicole is involved with Betsy’s husband, Gwendolyn found out about it, and was threatening to tell Douglas, Nicole’s fiancé. But this was before the judge’s death. I wasn’t taking the poison theory seriously. At least three of us picked up a glass of iced tea on a tray, and only one of us died. Poison didn’t make sense. I thought it more likely someone had rigged Betsy’s car, and I couldn’t visualize Nicole doing that. And I still thought Betsy’s death might truly have been accidental.”

  “It wasn’t, believe me. I wish I could tell you more.”

  “Well, just to make your day complete, there’s one more conversation I overheard that you should know about. It happened last night, and Hollis doesn’t know about this one, either. Although he may know the circumstances surrounding it.”

  “You’re confusing me. Tell me what you know.”

  Annie noticed that the detective’s agreeable bedside manner, so evident in the library, was missing from their conversation. She wasn’t put off by his change in demeanor. Quite the contrary. He was speaking to her like an equal, and that
was far more complimentary than being coddled.

  “Interesting,” he said again after Annie had related what she’d heard in the trees between Brianna and the judge. “Brianna copped to knowing the judge at the university. Said she was an adviser of some sort for her graduate studies. But she didn’t mention the romance. You saw the judge collapse, right? I don’t suppose you saw Brianna’s reaction to that?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Annie said reluctantly. “Not at the exact time of the collapse, but a minute or two later. As soon as the judge crumpled to the ground, I ran toward the booth. Brianna was running just as fast from the other direction, and we got there at the same time. We moved the judge out on the lawn and got her settled. Then Brianna left to call 9-1-1. I don’t think she fully trusted the skills of the show medic who’d arrived. She did seem a bit inexperienced. This may have been her first real emergency. But while we were fighting to keep the judge alive, Brianna was absolutely professional and together.”

  “How do we know she called 9-1-1? I thought you stayed with the judge.”

  “Not for long. Liz is an RN trained in ER procedures. Once she arrived, I took off to find the emergency respiratory kit. It was clear we needed one, and the medic hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring it with her. I didn’t have the slightest idea where it was, so I ran to the office to ask Brianna. She was on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator then.”

  “How’d she seem at that point?”

  “A bit more emotional. Concerned. But still under control.”

  “And when was she not under control?”

  Annie sighed. She didn’t want to share what she’d heard but knew she didn’t have a choice.

  “When the paramedic told us the judge had died. Brianna was terribly upset. I was afraid she was going to faint. I grabbed her, and she said something about it being all her fault, and that she had killed her.”

  “Meaning the judge? That she’d killed the judge?”

  Annie nodded. “It sounded horrible, but knowing the conversation she’d recently had with the judge, I took it to mean that she thought she’d stressed out the judge to the point that she collapsed. That she was responsible for her illness.”