For Letter or Worse

by Vivian Conroy

  “I’m well aware of her past.” West put out his chest. “Which is why I responded to a reported threat during the party. I think her husband also appreciates us being vigilant.”

  Delta didn’t comment that Drake’s sister, Sally, might have been killed while West and his men were on the premises. Or had the murder happened earlier? Maybe the spot where the body had been discovered was so remote the death could have gone unnoticed for a while?

  The door opened, and a deputy walked in with a plastic evidence bag in his hand. He put it on the desk in front of West and said, “We found this in the dead woman’s hand. We don’t know if it was hers, but maybe you can ask Mr. Drake about it?”

  Delta stared at the glimmer through the plastic. Keys on a chain with a bird-shaped hanger full of blue gemstones. “I saw Una Edel walking about with it. That bird shape with the gems is very distinctive. Maybe she was looking for Sally Drake to return it to her? If it does belong to her.”

  “You saw Una Edel with this set of keys?”

  “Yes, she carried them in her hand, quite ostentatiously. So maybe she found them lying somewhere and wanted to return them to their owner.”

  “Or they are hers, and the victim tore them from her in their struggle when she killed her,” the deputy enthused.

  West shot him a murderous look. “Thank you. Carry on.”

  The deputy grimaced and retreated to the door.

  West prodded the evidence bag with his pen. “Well, well,” he said, “Una Edel.” He glanced up at Delta. “Do you know her?”

  “Miss Edel? Not at all. I saw her walking about. She had a very take-charge attitude.” Delta could still see Una shake Zara when she had come in all upset about having found the dead body. And her remark to Calvin Drake that it had gone too far… Not a woman who minced her words.

  “Yeah, yeah.” West made a dismissive gesture. “I think that was all. Send in that friend of yours.”

  Delta rose to her feet. “Is it okay if I go fetch our things from the tent outside?”

  “As long as you don’t come anywhere near the gift table or the murder scene…” West surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “Last time I let your interference pass because you were concerned for your friend and that brother of hers, but this time I might not be so lenient.”

  “I don’t want to get involved in any way.” Delta left the room and ran down the stairs. Hazel came for her at once.

  “What did he say?”

  “Only some questions about this afternoon. You better go up now.”

  “I don’t like this. It reminds me too much of last time, with Finn and all.” Hazel rubbed her hands together.

  Delta’s heart clenched for her friend. In the previous murder case, Hazel’s brother, Finn, had been accused of involvement, and Hazel had been held at the police station because she hadn’t been entirely truthful about what had happened right before the dead body had been found. She had done it to protect Finn, of course, but it had muddled the waters and put Hazel behind bars.

  “This time it’s totally different.” She gave her friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We have nothing to do with the victim or the people here. Tell him that you were in the tent most of the time and haven’t seen anything worthwhile. Then we can go home and have some dinner. My stomach is growling.”

  Hazel dragged herself up the stairs, and Delta looked around. Most people had been interviewed already and left, it seemed. She caught sight of Drake sitting in a leather armchair, staring ahead with a vacant look in his eyes. She walked over and said, “My condolences on the death of your sister, Mr. Drake.”

  With a jerk, he looked up at her and blinked. “Excuse me, you are?”

  “Delta Douglas. Your wife hired me and my friend Hazel to do a cardmaking workshop here this afternoon. I saw your sister only in passing but…” She seemed like a nice person? What to say that wouldn’t sound silly? “I’m sure this will be a heavy loss for you, and I just wanted to say I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Drake sat up a bit. “It’s sad, you know. She had just quit her job to make a fresh start. Now…” His eyes filled with tears.

  “Yes, I heard she worked in Los Angeles as an art expert,” Delta said. “I also heard she advised you about the art you have here in the house. She had exceptionally good taste.” She gestured around her at the paintings on the wall.

  Drake shook his head. “Sally wasn’t into paintings. Sculptures were her thing. Bronzes and all such. She got me the lady picking flowers, in the other room. She had contacts all over the world.” His jaw tightened. “Too bad that no-good husband had to ruin it for her.”

  Delta didn’t quite know what to say.

  Drake continued as if he was speaking to himself. “She worked so hard to get to where she was, art advisor at a museum, buying pieces for galleries, while he spent the money she earned on trips with his friends. Betrayed her too, of course. Finally, she couldn’t take any more and broke up with him. But then he spread false accusations about her, and she lost her job…” He swallowed hard. “Poor Sally. The injustice of it all ate at her. She had come out here to try and start over, but there really isn’t much to do artwise here in Tundish.” He gave Delta a sad look. “Sorry to be rambling on about this.”

  “I understand. Her death came as a complete shock.”

  “It must be that bastard.” Drake shot upright. “I told the police. He must have followed her here to ask her for money again, and when she refused to give him any, he must have killed her.” He formed his hands into fists and banged on the armrests of his chair. “Bastard. If I get my hands on him…”

  “Do you know if your brother-in-law is here in Tundish?” Delta asked, fascinated by the possibility.

  “Yes, Sally mentioned to me that Abe would be coming over and that I shouldn’t agree to give him any money. Like I ever would.” Drake inhaled hard. “He’s a louse. He used her, and he couldn’t stand her leaving him and starting a new life without him. He killed her.”

  “I’m sure the police will look into that possibility.” Delta stepped back. “I must be going now. Good night.” She went out the side door she had come in and headed for their tent. The white structures spread across the lawn seemed eerie in the dim light of the lamps. At the cordoned-off gift table, the wind played with the ribbons on the still-wrapped presents. A party quickly ended by a looming threat and then a murder.

  Delta stood staring at the gift table with a deep frown. One woman threatened and another killed. Unrelated events? Or connected? It seemed illogical that at the same party two unconnected incidents would happen. There must be some link.

  But then again, Drake had told her how Sally had been facing her own problems, having lost her job and wanting to divorce her husband. Maybe the threat to Lena and the murder were indeed acts from different persons, each for their own reasons. Pure coincidence.

  Delta went to their tent and collected the cardboard box with leftover materials. She looked down ruefully at the unicorn sprinkles left on the table’s surface by the two crafting girls. It could have been so much fun. And it had ended in disaster.

  Leaving the tent, she almost collided with Ray. He slipped something into his pocket and retracted his hand with a quick, caught-red-handed movement. “Delta! I had no idea you were still here. Did West grill you?”

  “Yes, but I hardly know anything. I’ve never even met Sally Drake. Did you know her well?”

  Ray shrugged. “I knew she had been here for a few days. And she does something artsy for a living. That’s about it.”

  It sounded evasive, and Delta gave him a closer look. “You never met her personally?”

  “No, why would I?” Ray shrugged and walked past her. “I’m off to the Lodge. Rosalyn will be shocked to hear her good friend Calvin lost his sister.” Half turning to her, he added with a cynical smile, “Maybe she’ll want to come
out here and comfort him, huh?”

  “He has his wife to do that,” Delta said automatically and then realized she hadn’t seen Lena anywhere near Drake, who was left sitting distraught in his armchair. How odd, when such a tragedy has hit, you’d assume she’d be at her husband’s side… Where is she?

  Maybe she has a headache and is in bed, Delta admonished herself. There could be any number of reasons.

  Ray waved a hand at her and marched off. Watching his tall, athletic figure, she wondered what he had put in his pocket. Why be so secretive about it?

  Maybe he was feeling for his wallet or something. Stop attaching meaning to every little thing.

  Turning around to carry the cardboard box to the house where Hazel should be about done with the sheriff’s questions, she saw a figure near the gift table, ducking beneath the crime-scene tape. “Hey, you there!” She ran over.

  The man turned to her. Delta clenched her jaw, recognizing Marc LeDuc, a pit bull–style reporter who’d do anything—including break the law—to get a story for his online news site. He had given her and Hazel a hard time with the previous murder when Finn had been under investigation, and the mere sight of him still raised her hackles. “Out for a scoop?” she asked sweetly. “West will arrest you if he sees you violating the crime scene.”

  “I don’t see West anywhere around.” Marc gave her a challenging stare. “Are you going to report me to him?”

  “I might.” Delta reached into her pocket for her phone. She wasn’t too keen on West, but she liked Marc even less, and he might ruin valuable evidence.

  “No need.” Marc raised a hand in a placating gesture. “You can give me more than an underlit pic of this table, hey? Was the body found underneath?” He pointed at the damask cloth hanging down from the table. “Was it a big scene? Like when the hostess wanted to unwrap a gift, suddenly a dead hand appeared, and she started screaming? Give me something to entice my readers. A headline that will draw in thousands of clicks.”

  Delta shook her head. “No comment.” She almost had to laugh at the thought of him writing such nonsense, but given the fact that there had been a very real death, her amusement faded instantly. “The sheriff has a lot to look into, and I don’t think you snooping around will help any.”

  Marc tilted his head. “Come on, the public has a right to know what happened here. Do you know who it is? Did you get a glimpse of the corpse? I need not mention your name. I can quote you as a source who wishes to remain anonymous. A source close to the fire, that would give my report some credit.”

  “Sorry, I really don’t know anything.”

  Marc ducked under the tape again and came to stand beside her. “Look, I know we didn’t exactly meet under the best of circumstances. Your friend was wrongly accused, and that is a terrible thing. But that’s all solved now. No need to carry grudges anymore.”

  “I’m not carrying a grudge; I’m telling you I don’t know anything.”

  Marc wanted to say something, but he glanced past her, and his expression changed. He straightened up and snapped, “Too late, Dad. All the action is over. The body is removed from underneath the table, and the suspects have been taken to the police station already. If you want anything from the sheriff, you better go there.”

  Marc’s father, Sven LeDuc, dressed as usual in a jacket with elbow patches, closed in quickly. He carried his ever-present notebook in his hand. His newspaper, the Tundish Trader, claimed to be a reliable news source since 1887. When Marc had come back to town to join the paper, his ideas about new media had clashed with his father’s old-school approach. The two had split up in anger and were fighting for scoops ever since. Marc usually won because he put things online the moment he heard them, regardless of whether they were facts or not, but that didn’t stop his father from trying to outwit him. LeDuc Senior glanced at Delta. “Is she an eyewitness? Can I talk to her?”

  “No way.” Marc shook his head. “Her story belongs to me.”

  “My story belongs to nobody, because there is no story to give,” Delta said to LeDuc Senior. “The sheriff is still at the villa, interviewing people. You can talk to him there if you want to.”

  “So, you lied to me,” LeDuc Senior shot to Junior. “My own flesh and blood lies to me, for a scoop.”

  “You trained me like that,” Marc retorted with a grimace.

  LeDuc Senior rushed off to the villa with its brightly lit windows.

  “Why did you have to tell him that?” Marc asked. “I would have loved to see him race to the station only to find no one there.”

  “Your competition is very childish.” Delta shook her head at him. “If you were a real journalist, you’d handle this completely differently.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Marc leaned back on his heels. “How?”

  “You’d wait until there was factual, confirmed information instead of spreading a ton of nonsense.”

  Marc laughed softly. His eyes twinkled as he studied her. “People don’t want facts. They want to know what others believe, think, feel. They want to be there on the scene, as it were. I can’t just sit at home, waiting for some statement to come through. You know what West is going to say? That in the interest of the ongoing investigation, he can’t comment on anything. Come on. There’s enough to find if you look in the right places. I mean, a dead body popping up on the lawn of this villa…during a party. How poignant.”

  Delta decided he was a lost cause and feigned understanding. “You’re right. It’s just like The Body in the Library. In that book, someone dumped a dead body in a respectable family’s library to hurt their reputation. Terrible.” She thought Marc would see right through her forced weighty tone.

  But he nodded in earnest and said, “Drake did make enemies here.”

  “In Tundish?” Delta asked, surprised.

  “Yes. Seems locals are considering him for their interior design all of a sudden, and others who might have been eligible for the job are suddenly dropped like a hot potato. They are not happy, I can tell you.”

  “What others? Does Tundish even have a decent interior-design agency?”

  “Don’t you know them?” Marc tutted. “LyCla Design worked on the community center. All that eye-catching red with the white and black geometric patterns, it really divided the council. Some think it’s the latest in good taste; others claim it hurts the eye and should be redone.”

  He leaned over and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “LyCla Design is run by two women, who fight with any means available to them. They tried to team up with Drake, and when he wouldn’t budge, they vowed to destroy him. Or in any case, chase him out of town. And this body on his lawn sounds like a perfectly good reason to leave. Right?”

  Delta made a mental note to look closer at these designing ladies, but first she wanted to kid Marc, just a little. She nodded, feigning awe. “Which one of them do you think sacrificed herself for the good cause?”

  He stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, to have a dead body to put on the lawn, someone has to die. Do you think they drew straws to see which one of them…”

  His expression changed as he realized she was riling him up. “Very funny. But I’ll get to the bottom of this. You bet on it.” He walked to the house with long, angry strides.

  Delta suppressed a grin. Hazel appeared in the doorway and ran for her. “That was easy,” she said with a relieved smile. “Let’s go home and pop some pizza in the oven.” She rolled back her shoulders. “I can’t believe it, another murder as we’re doing an event. But this time Finn didn’t find the body, and nobody can claim we had anything to do with it. West can look into it all he wants.”

  * * *

  During the drive home, Delta heard her phone beep several times, but she didn’t look at it. She simply wanted to enjoy the quiet of the evening around them and dream about what dessert to have after the promised pizza. There was
triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer, but she might also dig into that salted caramel pudding in the fridge. Just thinking of it, her mouth watered, and she couldn’t wait for their cottage to come into view. The small but cozy cabin-style home had a well-equipped kitchen where Hazel preheated the oven while Delta cleared the table in the living room for their dinner plates and drinks. She glanced at her phone’s screen before putting it away and noticed several new messages from the Paper Posse group. Rattlesnake Rita said, “I heard the police were out in full force at the Drake villa by the lake. What happened?”

  Mrs. Cassidy responded, “Someone died.”

  “Foul play?” Wild Bunch Bessie asked.

  “I think so, or they wouldn’t be questioning everybody.”

  “Was it a local or one of Mrs. Drake’s high-profile friends? I saw their cars breeze through town. Must be a million-worth standing in her driveway.”

  “The golden Porsche was too tacky for me.”

  “I’d love to have seen it up close. Why didn’t you snap a pic for us?”

  Calamity Jane intervened, “I heard there was something wrong about the gifts. Were they not what she had ordered? Or was it the catering? Was that deceased person poisoned?”

  “I have no idea,” Mrs. Cassidy replied. “It will be in the papers tomorrow, I suppose.”

  Delta replied, “Yes, it will, because both Sven LeDuc and his son, Marc, were there. Marc seemed to think the dead body was under the gift table, and he believes it was planted there to drive the Drakes away from town. Something about a vendetta between interior designers? Do you know anything about that?”

  Calamity Jane responded at once. “He must mean Lydia and Clara from LyCla Design. They are regulars at the bakery. They love sweet treats. A few weeks ago, Clara rushed in with a grin on her face, claiming something wonderful was about to happen. She didn’t want to say too much about it, but she did suggest it had to do with their business getting a huge boost. Maybe that had something to do with Calvin Drake?”