by Leslie Meier
“I could cite you, but in the circumstances I guess I can overlook it.” He handed the license back to Ross. “But I’d advise you to get this straightened out as soon as possible. The next cop might not be so forgiving.”
“Thanks,” said Ross, not really sounding grateful at all.
“Okay, why don’t you start from the beginning?”
“Happy to,” said Ross, who was fidgeting nervously and glancing from side to side in a manner that made him seem as if he felt guilty about something, though Lucy knew it couldn’t be Bobbi’s death, because he was upstairs directing the movie when they all heard the scream. “Like I said before, I was busy with the big crowd scene, we’ve got several dozen extras, when there was a scream. A woman’s scream. I came down the stairs—”
“Why’d you go down the stairs?” asked Kirwan.
“ ’Cause that’s where the scream came from.”
“You didn’t think it could’ve been outside or upstairs?”
“No. I was sure it came from down here, and I was furious because we were shooting and there should be silence on the set.”
“Hmmm.” Kirwan thought this over for a minute or two while studying Ross, who was rubbing at the lump on his head. “Okay,” he finally said. “So what happened next?”
“I started to run down the stairs, but the door is low and I hit my head, got quite a whack. I sat on the stairs for a minute or two until the pain subsided, then I got up, and when I got out of the stairway, it faces one way, so you have to go back around to get to the kitchen, I saw this girl, Bobbi, on the floor and the cook here”—he pointed to Elfrida—“standing over her.”
“What was Elfrida doing?”
“Screaming her head off.”
“Was she saying anything?”
“I dunno. Maybe. It was just a lot of hysterical noise.”
“Did you attempt to help Bobbi?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I guess I was in shock or something. I was kind of frozen and then she came,” he said, pointing to Lucy. “She called nine-one-one and she tried to turn Bobbi over, but she fell, right on Bobbi. I was feeling sick at that point, but the medics came, and when they turned Bobbi over, there was the chef’s knife. I knew then that she”—he pointed once again to Elfrida—“must have murdered her. She hated Bobbi. She blamed her for anything that went wrong. She even blamed her for putting the cake, that bright pink cake that would have stuck out like a sore thumb in my scene, which would have wrecked it. That’s why she killed her. It was about the cake.”
“In what way?” asked Kirwan.
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.” He slid his chair back noisily. “Now, can I go?”
“No. Not without an escort and we’re shorthanded.” Kirwan turned to Elfrida. “Did you know the victim?”
“Bobbi Holden,” said Elfrida, speaking in a whisper. “She was supposed to be my assistant, to run errands and prep vegetables, that sort of thing.”
“Family? Contact info?”
Elfrida paused, momentarily clueless, until the answer came to her. “Willis, he’s the butler, he would have all that. He does the hiring and keeps the records.”
Kirwan nodded, about to pose another question, when Barney Culpepper appeared in the doorway. “The guys from the state crime lab are here.”
“What about the lieutenant?”
“He’s on his way, should be here in half an hour.”
“Great.” Kirwan stood up. “Would you escort Mr. Rosensweig upstairs so he can explain the situation to the cast?”
“Sure,” said Barney.
“It’s not Rosensweig,” growled Ross. “It’s Rocket. Ross Rocket.”
“Mr. Rosensweig can tell them that a crime investigation is under way and everyone needs to stay in place until they are released by the police. You know the drill, get names and addresses from everybody.”
“Right, Chief.” Barney nodded. “After you, Mr. Rosensweig.”
Ross got up and crossed the room, but paused at the doorway and turned around. Glaring at Elfrida, he lifted his hand and pointed at her. “She’s the murderer,” he insisted, once again accusing her. He turned as if to leave, but caught himself and stopped, still glaring at Elfrida. “And by the way, you’re fired.” Then he raised himself to his full height of five and a half feet and marched through the doorway to the hall, followed by Barney, who loomed over the slight director, nearly a foot taller and twice as wide.
Chapter Three
Kirwan seated himself at the table with the two women. He looked from one to the other, then settled his gaze on Elfrida. “You found the body, right?” He pointed his cell phone at her and asked for her name and position in the house.
Elfrida nodded, biting her lip, and identified herself. She was sitting up straight, with her hands folded on the table in front of her, and reminded Lucy of a schoolgirl who’d been caught talking in class. One of Lucy’s hands itched and she started to scratch it, momentarily forgetting the bags that encased her hands until she felt the smooth plastic. A quick glance at Elfrida’s hands confirmed what she already knew: The cook’s hands were clean and free of blood. Of course, she thought, she could have washed them after stabbing Bobbi, and then faked the discovery of the body and the ensuing hysteria. Lucy studied Elfrida with new interest as she recounted the evening’s events.
“I was working late, with Bobbi, making holiday cookies for this party that Juliette is having this weekend. You can see, the stuff is all there. . . .” Elfrida waved her hand in the direction of a large, old-fashioned worktable that stood in front of the huge black range, once fired by coal, but since converted to gas. The table was covered with racks of freshly baked gingerbread cookies, as well as a large crockery bowl, rolling pins, and cookie cutters. The faint scent of ginger still lingered in the air.
“Anyway, Bobbi said she had to go to the bathroom and I said fine. I was taking a tray of cookies out of the oven, when I noticed Bobbi hadn’t gone in the direction of the hall and the bathroom, but had gone back across the kitchen to the fridge. . . .” Here she indicated the antique white porcelain model on the opposite wall. “She was taking out that pink-peppermint Yule log cake, and, I admit, I was furious about it. I’d already gotten in trouble with Ross this morning when she put it on the prop food table and I figured she was up to no good. I yelled at her to put it back, but she just giggled at me, grabbed a knife from the holder—”
“Bobbi had the knife?” asked Kirwan, interrupting.
“Yeah. She grabbed it from that rack there.” Elfrida pointed to a magnetized strip on the wall over a large wooden cutting block, which contained a number of knives. There was a gap just the right size for the chef’s knife.
“Then she started running toward the door with the cake,” continued Elfrida. “I started after her, but I slipped on a butter wrapper Bobbi must’ve dropped on the floor when she was mixing up the cookie dough.” Elfrida sighed and rolled her eyes at the memory, she didn’t approve of such carelessness in the kitchen.
“I must’ve yelled when I fell down, I don’t remember. Anyway,” she continued, picking up her story, “it took me a minute or two to get my breath back and pull myself together and get up, but I didn’t have any broken bones, so I followed Bobbi and, well . . .” Elfrida swallowed hard, and stared at the doorway beyond which Bobbi’s body still lay, awaiting the medical examiner’s inspection. “That’s how I found her, flat on the floor with her face in the smashed pink-peppermint Yule log cake.” She shook her head sharply as if to clear away the memory, then jerked her head upright, jolted by a thought. “I don’t think I turned off the oven.” She gave Kirwan a questioning look. “Can I do it now? I don’t think I’ll be making any more cookies tonight.”
“I’ll do it,” he said, getting up and walking across the large, old-fashioned kitchen to the stove, where he paused in front of the vast array of black Bakelite knobs.
“Fifth from the right,” instructed Elfrida, and he turned the knob. The
n he turned around and studied the table, where a circle of rolled dough remained on the floured surface to be cut into gingerbread boys and girls. He stooped and looked under the table, where a crumpled butter wrapper seemed to verify Elfrida’s story.
“What did you think when you found Bobbi on the floor like that?” asked Kirwan, returning to the table and sitting down.
“I thought, served her right for taking the cake. But when she didn’t get up, I realized she was hurt, and that’s when I started screaming.”
“Did you know she was dead?” asked Kirwan.
“I was afraid she might be. That floor is stone, it’s hard, and I was worried about that knife. I knew for sure she was in trouble, but I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you yelled for help?”
“Yeah. Ross was already there, but he was just kinda standing there, staring at Bobbi and muttering, swearing. Then Lucy came and she called nine-one-one on her phone.”
“What did you do then, Lucy?” Kirwan asked, moving the phone closer to Lucy to record her answer.
“Do you want my name and . . .”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
“I’m Lucy Stone,” she began, conscious that she had to be as accurate and complete as possible for the recording. “I’m one of the extras for the movie. After Elfrida yelled for help, I followed Ross Rocket down the stairs. You know I’m a reporter for the local newspaper and I thought there might be a story. I found Bobbi on the floor, just like Elfrida said. She’d been carrying a cake and it was smashed on the floor under her. Elfrida and Ross both seemed to be in shock, so I called nine-one-one. The dispatcher told me to perform CPR and I tried to roll Bobbi over, that’s how my hands got covered with icing and, uh, blood. She was heavy and I slipped, I couldn’t do it on my own, but that’s when the EMTs came. Officer Barney Culpepper took charge and sent me and Elfrida and Ross into the kitchen.”
“Right,” said Kirwan, turning off his phone. “You two stay here,” he said, getting up and leaving the kitchen.
“What a mess,” said Elfrida, after he’d gone. Lucy wasn’t sure if she was talking about the unfinished cookies and the floury baking mess that remained on the table, or the infinitely larger mess out in the hallway. One could be cleaned up in a matter of minutes with a damp sponge, but Lucy suspected the other presented a bigger challenge and would inevitably cause repercussions that would roil the town and inevitably destroy some lives. She thought of Bobbi’s family, probably still unaware of their loss and the grief that awaited them. And then there was Elfrida, the sole support of five children, who’d lost her job.
“What about you, Elfrida? What are you going to do?”
“You mean, ’cause I was fired?” She shrugged. “I was about ready to quit anyway. Everything changed when Juliette married Ross and they started the movie. Until then, it was really just part-time, I made lunch on weekdays for the staff, just Willis and the gardener and the day workers. It was pretty simple, usually soup and sandwiches, sometimes a casserole or pizza. About once a month Juliette would come up from New York with friends, but even then they’d just want breakfast and lunch. They’d usually go out for dinner to one of these new locavore restaurants. They’d drive miles for free-range chicken and biscuits made from heirloom wheat grown in Vermont.” Elfrida sniffed, she didn’t approve of such nonsense. “I mean, I don’t know what’s the matter with good old King Arthur Flour, it’s all I ever use.”
“Me too,” said Lucy. “So what’s the story with Ross?”
“He’s a first-class jerk,” said Elfrida, “and the worst part is that Juliette is absolutely gaga about him. Whatever Ross wants, Ross gets. If it’s homemade pumpkin ravioli, I’m supposed to whip it up in fifteen minutes for lunch, like that’s even possible. He turned the place into a three-ring circus, even before this crazy filming started. It was parties every night, all these supposedly fancy Hollywood bigwigs.
“Then he got Juliette to produce this film, and if you ask me, I think he’s taking advantage of her. It’s her money and she can spend it any way she wants, but I think he’s bamboozled her, not that it’s any of my business. My business is cooking up tons of food for the cast and crew. There has to be a table on set at all times with a variety of ‘noshes,’ that’s what he called them. Bagels and cream cheese, lots of pastries and fruit and cookies, and a bunch of veggies, like beets and carrots, and something called protein powder for the juicer—and if you don’t think that thing is a mess by the end of the day, you need to have another think. Plus there was still breakfast and lunch for everybody, plus dinner every night for Ross and Juliette and whoever they’d decided to include from the movie people. Oh, and don’t let me forget the stars in their white trailers, they’d call up anytime and want this or that. ‘Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,’ they’d say, and then they’d ask if they could ‘please have just a little salad with just a dash of balsamic vinegar, some edamame, and a bit of sushi on the side. And maybe an iced green tea, something like that, but absolutely no aspartame. I’d really love it if you could brew it up with a touch of organic honey. Is that okay?’”
Elfrida looked down at the table, then out at the hallway, now blocked from view by the closed door.
“You know what I regret? I should’ve put my foot down. It was way too much work and I was really overwhelmed, just trying to keep up with all the demands, but I should’ve insisted on a more professional kitchen. We need modern equipment, rubber matting, better ventilation, and a lot more staff. It’s no wonder Bobbi fell, and I’m partly to blame. And you know what the worst of it is? She was an intern. Ross somehow convinced her he couldn’t afford to pay her, but it was going to be a great experience, and now she’s dead from an accident that didn’t need to happen.”
“Is that what you think happened? An accident?” asked Lucy, puzzled.
“Of course. She must’ve had the knife so she could cut the cake. I bet she was taking it to that Chris Waters, she had a thing for him. When I started to chase her, she must’ve panicked and slipped on that smooth stone floor and fell on the knife.” Elfrida looked at Lucy with her big blue eyes, wide-open in an innocent gaze. “What else could have happened?”
“Well,” said Lucy, speculating, “she might’ve met somebody in the hall who had an issue with her and wanted her dead. Can you think of anybody like that?”
“Oh, the wickedness!” exclaimed Elfrida.
“Very wicked indeed,” said Lucy, “but it happens. It sounds like Bobbi loved pranks and jokes, and she might have gone too far with someone who decided they’d had enough.”
“She was just joking, fooling around. Everybody knew that, they didn’t take it seriously. At least that’s my impression. I’m not exactly in the loop, if you know what I mean. I’m down here in this antiquated relic of a kitchen, trying to keep up with . . .” She stopped, biting her lip. “Not anymore I’m not. Those days are over and I can’t say I’m sorry. I only wish the state of Maine was a little more generous with unemployment benefits.”
“If you can get them,” said Lucy. “You’re going to have to convince them you weren’t fired, but laid off.”
Elfrida’s eyes grew wide. “He wouldn’t, would he?”
Lucy knew that most local employers didn’t fight unemployment claims, happy enough to be rid of difficult employees and aware that their former workers desperately needed the money, but she wasn’t convinced that Ross would be so understanding. “Dunno,” said Lucy.
“You’re probably right, he’s such a creep. Ross Rocket doesn’t think about anybody except Ross Rocket.” She sighed. “What am I gonna do?”
“If I were you,” suggested Lucy, “I’d have a word with Juliette.”
“Good idea,” said Elfrida, brightening up. “I’ll do that.”
The door creaked a bit as it was opened, and both women turned to see Chief Kirwan returning to the kitchen.
“Can I go?” asked Elfrida. “My aunt is watching the kids, but it’s getting late.”
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br /> “Sorry,” said Kirwan, looking rather uncomfortable. “I’ve been instructed to take you to the station to await questioning by a state police detective.”
“Both of us?” asked Lucy.
“No. Lucy, you can go, after they check your hands, but they want to talk to Elfrida.”
“What about my kids? Aunt Phyllis’ll never be able to get them into bed.”
“I can contact Child Protective Services. . . .”
“No. No. Don’t do that!” exclaimed Elfrida.
“I’ll swing by and help her,” said Lucy, belatedly realizing she wasn’t in a position to do that, considering the state of her hands. “You’ll probably be home in a few hours.”
“Is that right? Am I under arrest?” asked Elfrida.
“Let’s say you’re a person of interest.”
“What does that mean? Do I have to go?”
“If you don’t go voluntarily, then I will have to arrest you,” said Kirwan.
Hearing this, Elfrida dissolved into tears. “I’ve never been arrested, I never even got a parking ticket.”
“It’ll be all right,” said Lucy, who didn’t believe it for a minute. Poor Elfrida certainly had means and opportunity to kill Bobbi, and the police had a possible motive, thanks to Ross’s statement. She didn’t think for a moment that Elfrida would hurt a flea, but she knew that once the police had a viable suspect, they were unlikely to continue investigating the murder any further. That meant that the real murderer would likely get away scot-free.
“Hang in there,” she told Elfrida, “this will all get sorted out.”
“Come with me,” said Kirwan, taking Elfrida’s elbow. As Lucy watched, he kept hold of her arm as he led her across the kitchen to the door.
At least he didn’t handcuff her, thought Lucy, when a white-suited technician entered, carrying a tool kit. “Are you Lucy Stone?” he asked.
“That’s me,” replied Lucy, holding up her plastic-wrapped hands.
“I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get this over with,” said the tech, opening his case.
