Dead In The Dining Room

by Leighann Dobbs

  “What? No! No, of course not! Araminta, this is a very personal matter. One you don’t understand.” Daisy pushed back from the desk and walked to the filing cabinet to gather several folders.

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. Why don’t you explain to me where you put the water from the vase and how you got it into the dining room?”

  Sasha jumped onto the desk, and Araminta put her down again. It appeared Daisy had arranged the papers in some sort of order, and she didn’t want the cat to mess it up—though she wasn’t sure why she cared about Daisy’s papers when all evidence pointed at her as Archie’s killer. Still, Araminta had a seed of doubt in her heart. Because if Daisy was going to slip the poison into Archie’s wine at dinner, why would she need to go through the whole charade with the phone call to make sure Trinity didn’t serve it? But if not Daisy, then who?

  Arun jumped up next, darting over papers and folders. Before she could catch him, he jumped to the credenza behind the desk and stood on his hind legs, pawing at the stained-glass door. Araminta sighed and slipped behind the desk to remove him. There was an expensive pair of marble bookends in the shape of owls’ faces on the credenza, and she didn’t want him to knock them over. Those things were heavy and could easily take a chunk out of the hardwood floor.

  Sitting at the desk again, Daisy pushed her fingers against her temples. “Araminta, please. You’ve got it all wrong. It wasn’t… that night in the garden…”

  A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and Daisy shook her head once before she squared her shoulders and looked straight at Araminta. “I suppose I can tell you, but you must swear not to mention a word.”

  Araminta nodded. “If it proves you killed my nephew, I will, of course, tell the police.”

  “I didn’t kill him. Reginald has a gambling problem. I’m not happy about it or proud to know it, but he owed a very large sum of money to some very bad people. The kind who resort to drastic measures if they don’t get repaid.”

  Her shoulders drooped as if she were surrendering. “The man I met with in the garden that night—his name is Tony. Tony ‘the Fist’ Romano. Have you heard of him?”

  That was the man Reggie had mentioned. But how did Daisy know about him? Araminta hadn’t realized the depth of Reginald’s problem, but right now, she was more focused on his father’s murder. She pursed her lips and waited. “Sounds like someone with ties to organized crime.”

  Daisy nodded. “And it would not have been good for Reginald if he failed to meet their demands. I—I knew Reggie was trying, but he was going about it the wrong way.”

  “By stealing and selling priceless antiquities from the family’s cupboards.” Araminta nodded. “Yes, I knew about that.”

  “Right,” Daisy said, clasping her hands in her lap. “But Archibald didn’t. The news would have devastated him.” She straightened again. “You see, I have a few… connections… from my life before I met Archie, so I made a few calls, and I met with Tony that night in the garden to give him the money so that he and his ‘collectors’ would leave Reggie alone. Of course, Reginald doesn’t know. I’ve not yet spoken to him about it. But Araminta, I’ve done what I must because he’s my stepson and I love him. I intend to make sure he gets help.”

  She paused, her expression puzzled for a moment, then asked, “What did you mean about ‘I picked the flowers’? The police said Archie was poisoned.”

  Araminta wanted to believe Daisy was telling the truth and that she hadn’t poisoned and killed her husband. In the back of her mind, a voice asked whether she wasn’t being honest, but there was something in her expression and her tone when she’d talked about saving Reginald from the men to whom he owed money that seemed very, very sincere. How could such caring be found in the heart of a murderer? And why would she go to the trouble of paying off Reggie’s debt if she simply wanted the family money?

  “Convallatoxin, yes,” Araminta said then explained. “It’s a type of poison that can be found in lily of the valley.”

  “The autopsy showed the presence of flowers in Archie’s system?” Daisy asked, still confounded.

  “No, no. Not flowers specifically. In this case, the poison would have been in liquid form, water from stems soaked in a vase or something.”

  “A vase? But I thought his food had been poisoned. Besides, there were only long-stemmed roses in the dining room that night, not lily of the valley.” After a moment of thought, she asked, “So how could the poison end up in the dining room?”

  Araminta had wondered the same thing, and she’d come to the conclusion that Daisy had brought it down in a perfume vial in her purse, but now she wasn’t so sure. “I haven’t figured it out yet, Daisy, but when I do, you shall be the first to know.”

  Back to square one, Araminta turned to leave, but Daisy quickly waved a hand to halt her. “Araminta, promise me you’ll say nothing of my meeting with Tony Romano or why I’ve done what I’ve done for Reggie to anyone. Not even close members of the family. Knowledge of his problem at this particular time would be bad. For both Reginald and the family.”

  Latching on to details was a gift she often prided herself on, and today, it certainly wasn’t lacking. Araminta turned back and pinned Daisy with a stare. “At this time? Daisy, is something else going on? Is there more you haven’t told me?”

  Pointing at the papers, folders, and books on the desk, Daisy put her fingers to her lips, motioning for Araminta to talk softly. Then she nodded and whispered, “I’ve found some discrepancies in the books for Moorecliff Motors. I’m not sure who, how, or why, but I’m absolutely certain of one thing: someone in our employ has been embezzling funds from the company. I would hate for fingers to be pointed at Reggie.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Well, here we go again, down another rabbit hole,” Arun complained to Sasha. After flopping down onto the thickly padded jewel-toned carpet in Archibald’s office, he rolled onto his back and sighed. “Now that Daisy has mentioned embezzlement, Araminta will be distracted from the task of looking for the vase. She needs that for evidence. Just figuring out who the killer is won’t carry much weight unless she has physical proof.”

  Sasha glanced over at him from the corner, where she was busily inspecting a shadow. “Cut her some slack, Arun. It’s wise of her to give the matter some thought.”

  “Yes, but can she not think on it after we take care of this dastardly murder business?” He rolled onto his side then sat up to groom, licking his paw and pushing it behind his velvety dark ear. “There’s a killer on the loose. We can’t just forget about that. The killer must be identified and arrested.”

  “Can you not talk and groom at the same time? It’s hard to understand you with your mouth full of fur,” Sasha told him as she glared over her shoulder, her expression one of mild disapproval. “Besides, it’s just a monetary… um, momentary distraction, Arun. Give her a few minutes to digest what she’s learned. Araminta wants the matter of Mr. Archibald’s murder resolved as badly as you do. More, no doubt.”

  Arun sat back on his haunches and yawned. “You’re always on her side, Sasha.”

  “And you’re always on her back,” Sasha teased. She padded over to his side and playfully swatted at his ear. “Yours too. I think you’re getting lazy.”

  He cut her a look. “And I think you’re getting—”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Sasha warned. “No name calling.”

  “You started it,” he grumbled then got to his feet to go inspect the shadow in the corner for himself in case there was something she’d missed over there. One never knew with shadows, and it was often good practice to stare at them just to be sure. “What did you find over here, anyway?”

  “Nothing. Just an average shadow, unfortunately.” Sasha glanced up at Araminta and Daisy to make sure they were both still occupied with the computer before making the jump onto the credenza behind the desk. Looking up, she swatted at the tightly closed cupboard door with a paw. “I still think there’s something in
here, but this door latches so firmly.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t count on Araminta to open it. She’s still busy mulling over the embezzlement story to recall what we’re supposed to be doing in here.”

  Sasha’s purr sounded almost like laughter. “You’re so uptight this morning. Come, have a sniff.”

  Arun meandered half-heartedly across the room again, his tail twitching this way and that. He sat in front of the credenza and stared balefully up at her. “Are you trying to distract them or what? You’re making so much fuss up there that one of them is bound to notice… sooner or later.”

  He turned his head in hopes that Araminta would do just that, but she was still involved with whatever Daisy was showing her on the computer.

  “Arun, I’m serious,” Sasha said. “Now, stop complaining because her attention is on something else for the moment and get your butt up here.”

  He jumped, narrowly missing the fancy cobalt-rimmed vase with its portrait of Queen Louise. He crept carefully past the owl-face bookends. Those things gave him the creeps, reminding him of the time an owl descended out of a tree, talons forward, trying to make a grab for him. Luckily he was able to ward it off with his amazing fighting prowess. He plopped down on one of the ledgers that sat open on the credenza and watched Sasha stretch onto her hind legs and paw at the cupboard above it again. “Give it up, Sasha. It won’t open. I tried for ages the last time we were in here.”

  Sasha tried a few more times then dropped back onto four paws and gingerly padded over pens and papers to stand beside him. “But you smell it, too, right? I mean, how can you not? It’s almost sickly sweet, the odor.”

  Arun just stared at her. “Yes, I smell it, Sasha. But what good does our keen sense of smell do when she won’t even glance over here?” He stood up and stretched. “Maybe if I knock off the lamp…”

  “The what? Arun, no! Don’t you dare!”

  He crouched as if bunching his muscles for the jump, and Sasha pounced, rolling them both off the credenza and into the air for a second before they both hit the floor, paws first.

  Glaring menacingly at Sasha, Arun shook out his fur. “Have you completely lost what’s left of your mind? You knew I wasn’t actually going to shove the thing off!”

  But Sasha wasn’t paying attention to him. She sat frozen, her large ears pointed toward the door. “Listen,” she said quietly.

  Arun did then quickly sidled up to sit beside her before the commotion got started. “Uh-oh. Trouble is coming.”

  Just then, the doorbell pealed. At Archibald’s desk, Daisy looked up and sighed before getting up and hurrying to the office door. After pulling it open, she leaned out into the hallway and waved her hand to get the butler’s attention. “Harold? Harold, isn’t that the doorbell, dear? I believe someone is at the door.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The peal of the doorbell jolted Araminta out of her semi-daze. She’d been reading columns of numbers over Daisy’s shoulder, deep in thought and trying to figure out who in the company would be stealing from the family. Neither of them was expecting visitors today—at least, not that she knew of.

  Daisy pushed back her chair and walked to the hall to discreetly alert Harold to the fact that someone was at the door.

  Araminta waited for the announcement of the identity of the visitor, but it never came. Instead, through the still-open study door, she heard, “Harold Murray, you are under arrest for the murder of Archibald Moorecliff.”

  Harold! Oh no! The police had come to arrest him. But why? Yes, there were certain things that pointed at him—the fact that he’d served the dinner and the wine; he’d told Trinity about the phone call; and he’d inherited money from Archie’s will, but what proof had they found? Araminta had been searching the house and found nothing, and the police hadn’t even been here.

  She had to see this evidence for herself, and although Harold was one of her suspects, she was still skeptical that he was the killer. Araminta didn’t like to jump to conclusions. She needed hard evidence.

  Araminta rounded the desk on her way to the hall, but Arun jumped out in front of her.

  “Not now, Arun! Didn’t you hear?” she asked as she reached down to pick up the cat. “They’ve come to arrest poor Harold!”

  Sasha jumped up as if trying to get to Arun. Araminta, who’d barely moved two steps since she started, sat him down again then stopped. When the cats started acting outside their normal behavior, there was usually a reason. Were her fur babies trying to keep her in the room?

  Sasha jumped onto the desk and walked over to the phone, which she nudged with her head.

  “What’s that, girl? You think I should make a phone call?”

  If cats could talk, the absent, blinking look the cat gave her would probably be accompanied by something she didn’t want to hear, Araminta thought. Then, as if lightning had been hurled down from a clear blue sky, she got it. “That’s it! The phone call! Harold couldn’t have known because—”

  Arun jumped up onto the credenza and began to paw at the door of the cupboard. Suddenly another idea struck. Of course! She’d seen someone in this cupboard who shouldn’t have been in there.

  She pulled open the cupboard door to the sound of the cat’s meows of approval.

  Inside, tucked toward the back between two rows of books, sat an antique rose bowl. Araminta recognized it immediately. She’d gotten it several years ago as a birthday gift from her lovely aunt Martha, but it was out of place in here. They usually kept the vases in the dining room, and its presence here could mean only one thing.

  She plucked the bowl from the space then quickly wrapped it in a piece of blank paper that she snatched from the printer on the credenza. Then she shot out of the room and headed for the parlor.

  The whole family had rushed out to see what was happening, it seemed, because Daisy was wringing her hands in the middle of the room, while one of the cops put handcuffs on a stunned and confused Harold. Reginald stood with one arm around Stephanie, barely inside the parlor door. Bernard had dropped down onto the sofa.

  Araminta swept into the room, the wrapped bowl cuddled in the crook of her arm, and demanded to know what had happened.

  Ivan Hershey looked at her with pained eyes and began to explain. “We have the phone records from the night of Archibald’s death, Araminta. It was a fake. There was no call.”

  “Someone wanted to lure Trinity away?” Daisy asked.

  Ivan gestured at Harold. “We know Harold served the wine the night of the murder. He wouldn’t have been able to do that if Trinity wasn’t otherwise occupied. We also have a copy of the will. Sedgewick had it brought over by courier immediately after the reading. We know the servants were all awarded a large sum of money in addition to the trust Archibald set up to insure their retirement.”

  “But you have no physical evidence tying any of this to Harold,” Araminta pointed out.

  Hershey shook his head and gave Araminta a saddened look. “We have opportunity, method, and motive. I’m sorry, Ms. Moorecliff. We have to do our job.”

  “Harold is not the killer, Detective, and I can prove it!”

  Ivan’s eyes grew wide, but she cut him off before he could speak.

  “I highly doubt Harold would go to such lengths, and besides, someone else had a much more compelling motive.”

  “And what about the serving of the wine?” Hershey asked. “Who else would have benefitted from substituting Harold for Tiffany if not Harold himself?”

  Araminta smiled. “Uncuff him, gentlemen, if you please, because Harold is not Archibald’s killer. But I finally figured out who is.” She turned to the family and pinned each of them with a look then said, “Allow me to explain what really happened.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The two cops who had arrived with Hershey to make the arrest looked uncomfortable about allowing their proceedings to be interrupted, but Ivan held up his hand, signaling for them to hold on. Though he made no move to release Harold from the cu
ffs, he would give Araminta a chance to explain.

  Turning to her family, she said, “The poison that killed Archie is called convallatoxin. After the police left on the day Ivan told us how Archie was murdered, I looked it up.” Looking at Harold now, Araminta almost winced. He appeared quite miserable, standing there in handcuffs. “Did you know convallatoxin can be found in lily of the valley? How many vases of flowers have we had in Moorecliff Manor?”

  Turning to Hershey, she said, “At first, I thought perhaps someone had ground the plants up, but since there were no leaves or flowers found in Archibald’s system during the autopsy, I determined that the poison must have been administered as a liquid. And since it’s more difficult to put liquid in a specific person’s food or drink if you’re not the cook, the killer must have gotten Archie to ingest it in some other way.”

  Hershey crossed his arms over his chest. “Your lead-up is as suspenseful as the last scene of a Columbo episode, Ms. Moorecliff, but I have a job to do. Could you get to the point, please? We already know all of this.”

  Araminta nodded. “If lily of the valley is put in a vase, the toxin can seep into the water at high concentrations. I suspect that, with Archie’s heart condition, it would have been enough of a dose to take the water from a vase of lily of the valley then swirl it into Archie’s goblet—a goblet which was clearly marked so that the killer would know which one to give Archie, mind you.” Araminta’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the room. “Yes, there was probably even a little puddle left inside the goblet to be sure Archie had enough in his system to be fatal, and the killer would be quite confident that Harold wouldn’t notice, because in addition to not being able to hear, Harold also cannot see very well.”

  Ivan looked like he might be losing his patience. “An interesting theory—so, how did the person pull it off, and where is this marked goblet?”