“Quite a sight.” Alasdair’s eyes widened. “He could get badly stung, if he’s not careful.”
“Is this the worst hobby in the world, or what?”
Alasdair smiled. “Allegra enjoys it, and she makes wonderful honey. Maeve and I use it all the time.”
“For what?”
“Tea.”
Mary let it go, watching with admiration as Pigeon Tony slowly turned the open box on its side, gave it a gentle shake over the open slats of the hive, and let a living ball of bees tumble inside. Others crawled all over the screen, and Pigeon Tony held the open box upside down until they found their way into the hive, then he set the box aside.
“Now, he’ll have to get the queen from the box,” Alasdair said, then returned his attention to Mary. “Where did we leave off?”
“Yes, well.” Mary got her bearings, but there were still bees on Pigeon Tony’s face, so she averted her eyes. “I was asking you if Fiona was afraid of Tim.”
“I don’t think so. Fiona wanted the relationship to be over, and Tim didn’t.”
“I understand they broke up approximately two weeks before the party. Does that square with what you know?”
“I don’t recall exactly, but it was around then.”
“Let me float you a theory, because I’m trying to figure it out.” Mary needed a sounding board, and Alasdair knew the players. “My guess is that if Tim didn’t want to break up with her, maybe he went to the party to see if she was dating anybody new. In other words, he wanted to see if she had brought a guy to the party, other than her girlfriends. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yes, that would be so like him.” Alasdair rubbed his face, his tanned skin shifting back and forth. “I never liked him, not one bit. He’s a fraud, that boy. Too posh for his own good.”
“How much interaction did you have with Tim?”
“Enough. Fiona tried to teach him to ride, gave him one or two lessons, so she had me hang around the arena, for his safety. He tried to canter right away, before he’d even trotted.” Alasdair harrumphed. “You know, I come from a society that some say is classist, but America has its classes, too. The Gardners never act that way, especially Jane, but Tim did. He treated me differently than he treated Fiona, and he treated me differently around Fiona. He was polite to me, only for show. Not because it was genuine.”
Mary thought of Tim, helping the little boy at the frat house with his hamster syndicate, and she saw him with new eyes. In the background, Pigeon Tony was lifting an unmarked aluminum can out of the empty box, setting it aside, and withdrawing a tiny screened box on a cotton string, which presumably held the queen bee.
“Tim was expecting everything to come to him quickly. The second lesson, he pulled so hard on Paladin’s mouth, I had him dismount.”
Mary knew she had heard that name before. “Paladin is Jane’s horse, correct?”
“Yes, her mare.” Alasdair’s expression darkened. “Jane hasn’t ridden since Fiona’s murder. Her heart is simply broken. I’m keeping her mare in work, hoping she’ll come back again someday.”
Mary checked Pigeon Tony, relieved to see that the bees weren’t walking on him anymore, though many flew around the hive, which buzzed noisily. “Around the time of her murder, Fiona was working at the cottage after school, is that right?”
“Yes, on the Meyers acquisition. That’s another thing, because Tim resented that time she had to spend.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard her on the phone, explaining that she had to work, that her uncles needed her. It was a big deal, very important to the family business, and she was proud to be earning her own money, even if it was clerical work.”
“Why was it a big deal?” Mary’s forehead was starting to sweat under the veil, but she wasn’t about to take it off. Bees flew everywhere. “I understand she was working with her Uncle Richard.”
“That’s right. It was about the acquisition of condominiums in Delaware, and it kept the staff at the cottage busy all that month, including Richard, Neil, and his staff. You remember them, from your previous visit. They behaved badly that day, but they’re not bad men. Neil, in particular. He’s simply protective of the family, like me.”
Mary kept her own counsel. She glanced over as Pigeon Tony turned the tiny box on its side and took the string, which had a nail on it, using it to pry out some sort of cork stopper. “You were saying, about Fiona.”
“Yes, Fiona did more than her part on the Meyers acquisition. She had many privileges, but she was smart and able, being groomed to take her place in the family business. Tim resented that.”
Mary wanted to switch gears. “Allegra told me that Fiona was dating Lonnie Stall, the waiter who was eventually convicted of her murder. Allegra said that Lonnie used to come over when Fiona was babysitting Allegra. Do you know anything about that?”
Alasdair’s eyes rounded in obvious surprise. “Fiona, seeing the killer? Lonnie Stall? That would be news to me. I don’t know anything about that.”
“Did Fiona ever babysit Allegra, that you know? Allegra says yes, but John says no.” Mary couldn’t completely ignore Pigeon Tony, who had moved back to the open slat of the hive and affixed the tiny box inside, with the queen.
“I don’t know if Fiona babysat. I’m not privy to everything that goes on in the house. My main work is on the grounds and at the stables. So it’s conceivable Allegra could have been babysat by Fiona.”
“Is it also conceivable that Fiona was dating Lonnie Stall?”
“Yes, perhaps,” Alasdair answered, ducking an errant bee.
“Would you know Lonnie if you met him? He was one of the waiters employed by the catering service that the Gardners used.”
“Yes, I would know him. We try to avoid those parties, though I’m welcome, as is Maeve, my wife. We lead a quiet life, and I rise early to exercise the horses before it gets hot.”
“You went to the party the night Fiona was murdered, didn’t you?”
“Yes, we were both invited, and it was a very special night, until it took such an awful turn.”
“Were you with Fiona that night, at all?”
“Yes, both Maeve and I were, at around eight o’clock. She came by to give us a hug, to make sure we had what we needed, make us feel included.” Alasdair’s eyes shone, and he looked away a minute. “Only an hour later, she was gone.”
“Was she alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Lonnie Stall that night?”
“Yes, when he was serving.”
“What about around the time of the murder?”
“No. We saw nothing. We were dancing when Fiona was found.”
“Did you know any of the girls she brought that night?”
“Yes, they were always at the house. A great group of girls.” Alasdair’s face fell. “Another tragedy, all of it, one leading to the next, such a sad, awful waste.”
“Hannah Wicker survived the crash.” Mary noticed that Pigeon Tony was placing a wooden frame inside the open slat, as if he were sliding in a bureau drawer, then slowly covering the beehive with a lid that had a hole in the top, careful not to squash any of the bees.
“Yes, she did, Thank Jesus.”
“Did you know Hannah at all?”
“None more than the others. She rode, though. She and Fiona used to ride out, and she was here often, when she was younger and they were in Pony Club.”
“What’s she like?”
“A nice girl.”
Mary could see that Pigeon Tony was finishing up, putting another lid on top of the one with the hole. The base of the hive had an opening about a half an inch long, and it appeared to be the bees’ entrance, because they were already flying in and out. “Did you keep track of Hannah?”
“No.”
“Hear anything about her?”
“No.”
Mary didn’t want to tell him what she’d learned about Hannah last night, so she kept it to herself. “Did the pol
ice or D.A. interview you or talk with you?”
“No.” Alasdair turned away, to the driveway. “Oh look, they’re back.”
“Perfect timing. I have only a few more questions.” Mary glanced over to see Jane crossing the lawn toward them with her father and Tony-From-Down-The-Block. She glanced at Pigeon Tony. “You finished?”
“Moment, Maria!” Pigeon Tony called back, cleaning up the mess, but Alasdair waved him off.
“Leave the box, Tony. I’ll take care of it. Good job! Bravo!”
“Grazie!” Pigeon Tony nodded, leaned over, and spoke to the bees, then scurried after Mary, who gave him a hug in the clunky bee suit.
“Thank you so much! You were awesome!”
“Prego, Maria!” Pigeon Tony blushed as red as his bandanna under his leathery tan. “Andiamo a casa!”
“You got it!” Mary started walking with Alasdair. “Did any part of you suspect Tim of killing Fiona?”
“Honestly, no. I thought he wasn’t there. I assumed he was well out of her life.”
“Does it seem out of character to you, for him to have done it?”
“No.”
“You’re saying that he’s capable of murder.”
“I’m aware, but there’s cruelty in Tim. He yanked so hard on Paladin’s mouth, she almost reared.” Alasdair eyed the approaching group, his expression growing guarded. “Can we end this interview? I’m an awful liar.”
“Sure I called you today, to give you the heads-up, but there was no answer. Is there a way we could meet or talk at more length, if I have other questions?”
“I’m afraid it would be difficult to talk again, with my living here, and frankly, even this conversation makes me uncomfortable. Apologies, I saw someone called, but I was with Jane, so I didn’t pick up.”
“Understood, thanks for your time today.” Mary saw her father laughing as he grew closer.
“MARE! YOU READY FOR HALLOWEEN!”
“Oops!” Mary had forgotten she was wearing the beekeeper’s get-up. She popped the veil off her head, inhaled a lungful of fresh air, and fluffed up her hair, since she had veil head.
“I’ll take the veil.” Alasdair held out a calloused hand.
“Thanks.” Mary gave it to him, then slid off the gloves and beekeeper’s jumpsuit, turning to her father. “Pop, we can go now. Where’s Feet? In the car?”
“NO.” Her father stopped short, blinking. “HEY, WAIT, WHERE’S FEET?”
Jane frowned, looking over. “Oh no, he’s not here.”
Tony-From-Down-the-Block grinned. “I got no problem with that.”
Chapter Thirty
Mary took her father’s arm, and Tony-From-Down-The-Block took Jane’s arm, and the four of them headed toward the house like the most awkward double date in history. Pigeon Tony scurried ahead of them with Alasdair, whose demeanor had turned newly official. Their group’s pace was slow, by necessity, and this was the most exercise her father had gotten in ages. Mary worried it might be too much, and even if it wasn’t, that they wouldn’t get to the house until Friday.
“Pop, do you and the guys want to wait here or in the car?” she asked, looking over. “We can get Feet and bring him back.”
“NO, MARE, I’M FINE.”
“Me, too.” Tony-From-Down-The-Block winked at Jane. “How often do I get to be in the company of such beautiful women?”
“Che bella giorno!” Pigeon Tony exclaimed, throwing up his arms with a grin, and he didn’t require translating. The grounds were sunny and beautiful, with a gentle breeze rustling through magnolia trees, climbing roses, and other flora and fauna that Mary couldn’t identify, but it wasn’t what interested her. She wasn’t a botanist, but an amateur sleuth, and she was dying to get inside the Gardners’ house and snoop around, like Nancy Drew with a J.D.
Alasdair asked Jane, “Where was Feet the last time you saw him?”
“In the house.” Jane scanned left and right for Feet, as they walked along. “He had to use the bathroom right away, because he said his prostate had been so bad lately. Poor man. He didn’t think the Flomax was doing any good at all.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block clucked, and his dentures made a dry sound. “It’s fake Flomax, that’s why. He gets it from China. You know what they put in that stuff? Mouse hair. Rat feet.”
“IT’S LIKE HOT DOGS.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block shook his head. “No, it’s worse. At least with hot dogs, you got the FDA. The Chinese, they got no FDA. They do anything they want. They got no laws over there, only people. Tons of people, and only one law.”
“You mean that they’re allowed only one child per family?” Jane asked, her tone so polite that Mary couldn’t tell if she was trying to make conversation or was actually interested, in which case she was making a major mistake.
Tony-From-Down-The-Block shook his head again. “No, the law that you have to wear the same clothes. Ever see that? They all got the same brown outfit on, with the hat.”
Mary wanted to get things back on track. “Jane, you were explaining about what happened with Feet.”
“Yes, well, I put him in the powder room, but then your father said that he couldn’t wait, so I showed him to the bathroom in the family room. Then Tony here”—Jane gestured to Tony-From-Down-The-Block, clinging to her like a barnacle with a comb-over—“needed to use a bathroom as well because Feet was taking such a long time, so I showed him to the powder room near the mud room, just off the garage, and I waited for him, because sometimes the cat scratches at the door, since her litter box is in there…”
Mary’s head exploded, but she didn’t interrupt. They passed the aviary on the right and the stables on the left, but nobody noticed the scenery except Pigeon Tony, who swiveled his birdlike head this way and that, his red bandanna and beaky nose making him look like a redheaded woodpecker.
“… then when he was finished, we collected your father and left the house, but I was yakking away with Tony, and somehow, we must have forgotten all about Feet. Our housekeeper has a dentist appointment this morning, and she would’ve helped me keep better track of everyone. I’ve made a hash of it on my own.”
Mary got the gist, mortified. “Jane, I’m sorry this ended up being trouble for you.”
“No worries, I understand completely.” Jane smiled in a genuinely warm way. “I took care of my father for long time. He had Alzheimer’s and he lived with us for a decade, almost to the very end of his life.”
“My deepest condolences about your father,” said Tony-From-Down-The-Block.
“MINE, TOO. YOU’RE A CLASS ACT, MRS. G,” her father said, and Mary thought that summed it up perfectly. She was really starting to like Jane, who seemed kind, gentle, and low-key, nothing like her husband. Alasdair had been right in his loyalty to her, and she seemed to embody the strength and practicality of a horsewoman as well as the fragility and sorrow of a mother who had buried a child. Mary was dying to tell her her suspicions about Tim Gage, but this wasn’t the time or the place. She couldn’t bring up Allegra either, though she sensed that mother and daughter needed each other, more than they knew.
“Yes, thank you, Jane,” Tony-From-Down-The-Block said, then he scowled. “You know, this is all Feet’s fault. He wanders off, all the time. He’s too old to hang with us.”
“DON’T SAY THAT, TONY. THAT’S WHAT GOT YOU IN TROUBLE WITH HIM.”
“Why? It’s the truth!”
“WE’RE ALL OLD.”
“He acts it. I don’t.”
“Gentlemen.” Mary thanked God that they were only steps away from the front of the house. “Let’s not have this discussion now. Tony-From-Down-The-Block, I think you should say you’re sorry to Feet, because you hurt his feelings. Now, let’s all go inside and find him.”
“FEET PROLLY LOCKED HIMSELF IN THE BATHROOM.”
“You’re probably right,” said Tony-From-Down-The-Block, as Alasdair led them onto the flagstone porch under the portico, opened the front door, and held it to the side f
or everyone.
“LADIES FIRST.” Mary’s father stood aside and so did Pigeon Tony and Tony-From-Down-The-Block.
“Why, thank you.” Jane entered the house, and Mary went in behind her, looking around secretively, like a neighbor at a Realtor’s open house. It was new construction, and the layout of the home was clear from the entrance hall, which was generous enough to hold two cherrywood benches. To the left was a formal living room with chintz-covered chairs and couches in fresh green hues, and to the right was an open doorway that led to a formal dining room, with a glistening mahogany table the length of an airport runway. Oriental rugs carpeted the hardwood floors, and tasteful landscapes covered the walls, but what intrigued Mary was the array of silver-framed photographs blanketing a matching sideboard, though they were too far away to see.
“This is the powder room he used.” Jane opened a door in the entrance hall, but it was empty. “He’s not here, so he must be in the family room.”
“I’ll go with you and check the garage.” Alasdair headed down the hall in that direction, with Jane at his heels.
“We’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. “Everyone, please make yourself comfortable.”
“I’ll lend a hand!” Tony-From-Down-The-Block chugged behind her like a lovesick caboose.
“I NEED TO TAKE A LOAD OFF.” Mary’s father plopped down on the cherrywood bench, and so did Pigeon Tony, who took off his red bandanna and used it to wipe his forehead.
Mary seized the moment to sneak into the dining room and peek at the photographs. There was a professional wedding photograph of Jane and John, but all of the others were snapshots of Fiona and Allegra, together through the years; the sisters as babies in bassinets, then Fiona wearing a big sister T-shirt holding Allegra, Allegra dressed as a pony for Halloween with a pig-tailed Fiona in jodhpurs, and Fiona holding a long red ribbon with Allegra in starter glasses, sitting on top of a horse. The photos went on and on, and in almost every one, Allegra was looking up at Fiona with adoration, so Mary could see, as if it were photographic exhibits in a trial, vivid evidence of the love Allegra had for her only sister. The photos stopped at Fiona’s induction into National Honor Society, with a gap-toothed Allegra hugging her around the waist, and after that, there were no more photographs, even of Allegra alone. Mary left the dining room shaken.
Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel Page 21
