“You cleaned house for Thorne for several years. Is that correct?”
“Yes. He’d become an atrocious man.” She paused, then quickly added, “However, he was good to us when Herb became ill. If he hadn’t helped us with the medical bills…”
“So Thorne wasn’t so…atrocious…before?”
Agnes nodded slowly. “It was gradual. I think he’d finally realized how much people hated his drive to always outdo the other person. But I don’t think he could stop himself. He’d been driven for as long as I’d known him. I was just starting my housecleaning business when he bought the place next door.”
“What was that? Ten years ago?”
“Yes.” She regarded the Christmas tree, then looked at Rick and continued. “I think much of Thorne’s problem was petty jealousy. He’d see Jordan getting new clients and could never understand why they chose him. But when Thorne landed the Exploration International contract, he was crowing like a rooster on a sunny morning. That was really the turning point for him. He grinched out after that. It was like he declared war on the town to get back at all those people he felt had been disloyal. Anyway, that’s probably a lot more than you wanted to know.”
“Actually, it’s very helpful. You’ve given me history nobody else has revealed. You must have known him well.”
Agnes brushed aside a few strands of gray hair from her high forehead. “Not really. I don’t think anyone knew him. He had become a very lonely man. He’d get dates, but things wouldn’t last. I thought when he started dating Laurel he might change a bit, but that didn’t happen. Darcy was the same way. High hopes turned into dashed opportunities.”
“You knew about both of them?”
“As sure as Christmas comes once a year,” Agnes snickered. “They all thought they were so clever. They’d hide their clothes in the back of the closet. Did they think I hadn’t already seen them leaving in the wee hours or wearing the same thing around town the following day? I’m sure there were others because every once in a while I’d see an unfamiliar car or find a woman’s earring around the house.”
“How often did you clean for him?”
“Once a week. Until I decided to open this place. He was understanding, at least at first. But the last time I was there he wouldn’t even talk to me. I think, deep down, he was always worried what other people thought of him. He didn’t like the concept of being a small-town attorney. He wanted to be bigger. Maybe move his office to San Ladron.”
“So he had big plans,” Rick said.
“It seems odd how a man spends years of his life living in a town and hates it, yet he’s too afraid to move away. Personally, I’ve always loved Seaside Cove and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.” Agnes laughed and picked up a nearby snow globe in which there was a tiny Santa and reindeer. “Thorne never could have put up with this kind of clutter.”
“You do have a lot of stuff.” Rick winked and followed her gaze. “I’ve been through Thorne’s house and it looks almost like it’s been staged.”
“I did that for him,” Agnes said. “He didn’t want to be bothered with picking up each time I came in, so he had me set up all the rooms. Thorne was very particular about where things were. Every item had to be put back in exactly the same place. Most of it was easy, but the bookshelves were a challenge. That was his little fiefdom.”
Rick straightened up a bit. Could he—would he—get so lucky? He still had Thorne’s key—and an expert on how things were arranged before the murder. “Agnes, one of the things Deputy Cunningham and I need to do is determine what was used as the murder weapon. We believe it was something from the bookcase. Maybe a trophy.”
Agnes sucked in a quick breath and her eyes misted over. “Oh no. That bookcase was Thorne’s pride and joy.”
“Did you clean it?”
“Of course. And I had to be very precise when I repositioned each item.”
“How did you return things to exactly the right location?”
“Oh, he gave me photos to work from.”
“Do you still have those?”
Agnes shook her head. “No. It was like a library—when I arrived, he gave me the ones I needed and he took them back when I left.”
Rick let out an exasperated sigh. “I was hoping you still had them.”
“Oh, is that all? They should still be in Thorne’s bedroom.”
“Are you sure? I went through his room and didn’t come across them.”
“Oh, heavens to Christmas. You wouldn’t find them. They’re in a secret compartment in the highboy.”
CHAPTER 48
RICK
As Rick and Agnes Chambers passed through Thorne Waldorf’s living room, Agnes shuddered. “This gives me the willies, Rick. I can’t believe he left that window open during a storm. Thorne never would have done such a thing.”
“Deputy Cunningham and I are convinced the killer did it to cover up.”
Even though Deputy Cunningham had closed the window the moment he’d arrived on the scene, there were water stains on the wall beneath the window, the area rug, and some swelling of the hardwood floor where the water had accumulated.
Agnes clucked a few times and turned in a slow circle. “Someone needs to get this cleaned up before the water damage becomes permanent.”
“I think it’s already too late,” Rick said as he gestured toward the stairwell. “Agnes, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help in finding Thorne’s insurance photos.”
“Well, Jiminy Christmas, I could hardly expect you to get as lucky as I did when I found them. I would like to do something about this mess, though.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t. Not until Deputy Cunningham clears the room. This is still a crime scene, at least for now.”
Agnes nodded, then led the way upstairs. She stopped halfway to the second floor and indicated one of the photos hanging on the wall. “You see these? They were taken by a professional photographer at Thorne’s graduation from law school. He never said it, but I suspect that was the proudest day of his life. He was dating a girl who lived here back then and moved to town for her. She left shortly after he bought this house. The poor man was stranded because he’d sunk everything he had into renovations.” She let out a small huff and continued on her way.
“What about his parents?” Rick asked. “Did he ever talk about them? Were they proud of him?”
Agnes stopped and regarded Rick with a blank look on her face. “He never said.”
They continued up the stairs to the master bedroom. Agnes walked directly to the highboy and bit her lower lip as she stood before it.
“It’s okay, Agnes. This is all part of the investigation.”
“That’s not it.”
“What’s the matter?”
“My memory’s fuzzy. I’m sorry. That’s the other reason I couldn’t give you instructions.” She opened the second drawer of the highboy. It slid out easily. She looked inside and shook her head. “No. That’s not right.”
She slid the drawer shut and opened the top one, then took Thorne’s underwear out of the drawer.
“Why don’t you just remove the whole thing?” Rick asked.
Agnes put the last of the clothing on the bed and returned to the highboy. “Because the key to opening the back compartment is the button on the inside of the drawer. If it’s not lined up properly, you’ll never get the back compartment open.”
She moved the drawer in and out slightly, then smiled as a panel slid out from the back of the dresser. “Happy Christmas!”
“You’re a genius,” Rick said.
Agnes shook her head as she went to the side of the dresser and removed the sliding panel. “No. I just happened to get lucky once when I was cleaning.
“Then you’re a lucky genius.” Rick checked the shallow compartment. It contained a small stack of photos; the top one was of a framed abstract painting Rick had seen in the living room.
“Why would he keep these here?” Rick asked.
&nb
sp; “There’s another set in his safe deposit box in San Ladron. These were for easy access.”
“I understand keeping a set in a safe deposit box, but they’re just photos of the house. Why keep them in a secret compartment?”
“I have no idea. What I can tell you is Thorne did not know I knew about this compartment. Like I said, I found it quite by accident. Given what a secretive man he was, I was not about to tell him what I’d done. He probably would have fired me first, then sued me for something or other.”
“If he always gave you the photos when you arrived, how did you know that’s what he kept in this compartment?”
“Ah, he only gave me the ones I needed for the day. But I found the compartment and saw some of the ones he’d handed out before, I knew this was his stash.”
“At least we have them. Hang on a sec while I call Deputy Cunningham.
Agnes stood to the side as Rick dialed. “Adam, we’ve got photos of Thorne’s bookcase thanks to Agnes Chambers. Do you want to help reconstruct it??
“I’m busier than a one-armed paperhanger with an itch. Ken got me that list of customers from Friday night. I’m going through it and getting water bills out at the same time. Can you handle this?”
“Sure. I’ve also got some questions. Things that came up after you left Thorne’s. I’ll text you those along with any results we get here.”
“Great. Gotta go. My other line’s ringing.”
When Rick hung up, he crossed the room to where Agnes stood. “I don’t suppose you want to help me reconstruct the bookcase?”
Agnes winced. “Being in this house makes me terribly uncomfortable. And seeing that room downstairs breaks my heart. I don’t think I can stay.”
“I understand, Agnes. But this is important. If we can figure out what’s missing, we very well might be able to determine what was used as a weapon.”
“If it even was one of his things. Maybe nothing’s missing.”
“That’s what we need to find out. Tell me something; are there any other secret compartments in this house?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. Before I found this one I never imagined this old piece of furniture was also a hiding place. Who knows what other spots he might have? I didn’t understand many of the things he did. The fact is, no matter what he did, I don’t think he deserved to die so young. I tell you what; I’ll help you with the bookcase, but being here just brings back so many memories.”
Rick laid a hand on Agnes’s shoulder and thanked her for her help. They went downstairs to Thorne’s office, and he laid the pictures on the desk, placing the one showing the bookcase on top. Rick inspected the photo, then scanned the chaos on the floor. “This is going to take awhile.”
“Maybe not as long as you think,” Agnes said. “I hope.” She went to the bookcase, inspected one of the sleeves, and clucked a few times. “Do you mind if I clean off the shelves before we start putting things back?”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. The dust might help us to see what’s missing.”
“But we have the pictures.”
“Let’s just call it insurance. Okay?”
“It breaks my heart to see this room look like this.” Agnes grimaced, but smiled a moment later at something on the floor a few feet away. She bent down, picked up a trophy, and hopscotched over the mess with the trophy in hand. She found a spot on the middle shelf where the dust outline perfectly matched the base of the trophy.
She turned to Rick and smiled. “One down.”
Rick checked the photo. The trophy’s current position matched perfectly. “Do you remember the exact positions of every item?”
“Thorne was very particular,” Agnes said as she pointed at the trophy she’d just set on the shelf. “He played baseball when he was young. That was from when his Little League team won third place.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t much of a talker.”
“He did talk about his trophies. When he opened up…” Agnes paused and sniffled.
“You liked him, didn’t you?”
“Oh, Jiminy Christmas, Rick. I like almost everybody.”
Rick’s phone chimed with Marquetta’s ring. He stepped off to one side and answered. “Hey, how’s everything at the B&B?”
“All under control, boss. We’re talking about putting up a few more decorations, but other than that we’re just sitting around twiddling our thumbs.”
“The baking’s already done?”
“Pulled two loaves of chocolate chip banana bread out of the oven a couple of minutes ago. They need to cool. We also finished with the cookies. If I don’t keep an eye on Alex, she might be finishing them off.”
Rick stepped out of the way as Agnes picked up another trophy and placed it on the top shelf. When she looked at him, he raised one finger to indicate he’d be with her shortly.
“If anyone can keep her under control, it’s you,” he said. “What’s up?”
“We’ve had a development with Thorne’s calendar. Alex brought in a professional, who decoded the list in no time.”
Rick’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t intended to bring in outside resources—still, if they’d gotten results… “Who’s this professional?”
“Sasha Bell,” Marquetta laughed. “Apparently, she’s a math whiz and figured out that the numbers corresponded to letters of the alphabet. We know who met with Thorne for each day of his past week.”
“That’s a huge break.”
“Never underestimate the deductive powers of an inquisitive ten-year-old.”
“Or a dedicated housekeeper. Agnes is cracking the bookcase problem for me.”
“It’s your lucky day, boss.”
“I guess so. I’ll have to put Sasha on speed dial as Seaside Cove’s resident cryptanalyst. Who knew we had so many valuable resources in this little town. Can you text me Thorne’s schedule?”
“Will do.”
“Also, is there any way to keep Sasha’s involvement quiet? I really don’t want to drag her into this if we don’t have to.”
“My lips are sealed,” Marquetta said. “But I don’t know about Sasha’s.”
“Got it. We can only do so much.” Rick said goodbye and disconnected, then told Agnes what had happened with the calendar, making sure to leave out who had cracked the code.
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Agnes nodded absently as she studied Thorne’s desk. “I always wondered what all those numbers meant. He never had clients here while I was cleaning, so I could never make a connection.”
“Well, now you know the code.”
Agnes’s shoulders drooped as she leaned against the desk. “Thorne’s life was nothing more than a string of broken promises—Darcy and Laurel were just the latest ones.”
“I think you’re right, Agnes. Wait—there were others?”
“Of course there were. Thorne wasn’t a monk. I think he did have a little fling once with one of the young ones here in town, but she upped and went off to college. That one never did return. The others, I assumed they were from San Ladron.”
Rick bent down to pick up a framed picture, but his phone pinged with a message. It was the list he’d asked Marquetta for. He read the names—Dennis Malone, Joe Gray, and Giselle Atwood. These were the last people who had seen Thorne alive. Could one of them be the killer? Or was there a name missing from the list?
“Rick?”
He jumped at the interruption. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
But Agnes wasn’t paying attention to him. She was wandering around the room looking at the floor and shaking her head.
“What’s up, Agnes?”
“I’m not sure. Is this everything?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you removed anything from this room?” Agnes looked around and her forehead wrinkled.
“I thought that’s what we were trying to figure out.”
“There’s a piece missing.”
“What is it?”
“It was another trophy. Thorne’s championship from his last year of Little League.” She went to the desk and pointed at one of the photos of the bookcase. The trophy she pointed at was nothing special—it had a wooden base and a brass baseball player swinging a bat. It had been almost in the middle of the second shelf. “It was his favorite one.”
“And you’re positive it’s missing.”
Agnes made a sweeping gesture around the room. “Do you see it? I don’t.”
Rick counted the trophies in the photo, then those on the shelves. Agnes had placed four on the shelves, and there were five in the photo. Rick reached out and hugged her.
“Oh my!” She stepped back, her eyes wide and her mouth open.
“Sorry. I forgot we barely know each other. But Agnes, you may have just found the murder weapon. Let’s hope it leads us to the killer.”
CHAPTER 49
RICK
Agnes inspected the photo of the bookcase from over Rick’s shoulder for what seemed like the hundredth time. The big finds had been her doing. The old housekeeper had known exactly where the trophies went and had the books almost perfectly placed. There were two vases in the photo, one a cerulean blue and the other a jade green. Both had been shattered and lay in pieces. Rick took a last look at the photo, then the mess on the floor.
“I don’t see how the murder weapon could have been anything that’s left, Agnes.”
“The rest of this is just small, piddly stuff.” She bent down and picked up a small brown vase and put a few stalks of dried flowers in the top. “I need to get back home, Rick.” She stepped around the remaining debris and placed the vase on the top shelf.
“I agree. We’re done. At least for now. Thank you for your help.”
Rick collected the photos, closed up the house, and started home. When he got to Front Street, he decided to make a stop at Gray’s Sailing Charters. Joe had trimmed the two-story, teak-paneled houseboat in twinkling red, white, and green Christmas lights. Even the potted bushes on the fantail sparkled with color.
The cloud cover had returned, casting the remains of day in a dim light, so the lights were a welcome relief to the late afternoon gray. The aroma of cinnamon filled the air the moment Rick opened the front door. He’d expected Joe to be standing behind the counter, but he was nowhere in sight.
The Killer Christmas Sweater Club Page 19
