The fairy was dressed all in green, and her green wings blurred like a hummingbird’s as she stared up at Lilliana plaintively.
“Why, hello.”
“I thought you’d never-r-r come,” the fairy said with a soft Scottish burr and a definite pout. “I’ve been stuck in here since morning!”
The fairy must have gotten into the bathroom when Lilliana had come in before the meeting to get the plants she was going to give away. “I’m so sorry. Why are you here?”
“Queen Esmeralda sent me. It’s an emergency!” The fairy zipped from one plant to the other in her agitation. She moved so fast Lilliana had trouble keeping track of her.
“What emergency? And please stop flittering around so. You’re making me dizzy trying to keep up with you.”
The fairy obligingly lighted on one of the True Blue violets. “We need to find Ted. He isn’t in his store. He isn’t in his house. We thought he might have gone on a trip, but he hasn’t come back. We can’t wait any longer.”
Lilliana’s chest tightened. Another person in her life she’d lost. But she hadn’t told the fairies yet. She’d avoided that task, knowing Esmeralda would be as devastated as she was over Ted’s death. It wouldn’t do to just send a message to the fairy queen. She’d have to go herself. “Tell Queen Esmeralda I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Now. You have to come now!”
Lilliana was torn. The fairies had never come to speak to her, at least, not as far as she knew. They’d been Ted’s friends. It really must be an emergency if one had come now. But there was also a murder she had to investigate. In fact, Chief Cartwright might even now be interrogating witnesses without her. “I can’t come right now. I’ll be there shortly after sunrise tomorrow. Now, please come out of the bathroom so I can let you outside.”
Lilliana opened the bathroom door and waited.
The fairy’s features scrunched up, and for a moment Lilliana thought she might dive into her face like an attacking blue jay, but eventually the tiny creature zipped out of the bathroom, through the living room, and out of the sliding glass door once it was opened. Lilliana closed the patio door, wondering what in the world the fairies needed her for.
CHAPTER FIVE
LILLIAN headed for the library, only to be blocked by the yellow and black crime scene tape crisscrossed over the door. Puzzled, she wondered where the chief was doing his questioning. There were limited public places at the Rainbow Ranch Retirement Community. Since it was closest, she stuck her head inside the clinic.
Kirstie looked up from the form she was filling out. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Wentworth?”
Once again, Lilliana noticed the mouse around Kirstie’s left eye. She was tempted to ask her about it, but she was already late for her rendezvous with the chief. “I was wondering if you knew where Chief Cartwright is questioning people?”
“He’s in the craft room. He told everyone to wait for their turn in the sitting area upstairs, but I need to fill out a report for the retirement home first.” She gestured at the paper in front of her as she nibbled on her lower lip. “I hope Mr. Ellison isn’t too angry.”
“Why would he be angry?” Even as she asked the question, Lilliana realized why the owner of the retirement community would probably react that way. He always had been more worried about the reputation of the place than whether the residents were safe and well. “Nevermind. I’ll leave you to your paperwork. Thank you.”
She headed for the lobby, then took the elevator to the second floor. As she stepped out, she saw most of the members of the African Violet Club seated in the open area in front of her. Nancy and Mary were chatting on a love seat, while Sarah Higgins gazed at an open book in her lap. Lenny stared out the large windows overlooking the entrance to the retirement home.
As Lilliana hurried past the card room on her way to the chief, she heard letters and numbers being called out by one of the volunteers from town. Apparently a lively game of bingo was taking place. The door to the craft room was closed. She knocked and then opened it without waiting for a response.
Although called the craft room, it was used for various activities during the day. Several rectangular tables with folding chairs surrounding them were set up in the center of the room. The walls were lined with cubby holes which held yarn and paints and tubs of clay, along with glue guns and containers of sequins and piles of craft paper. The faint odor of hot glue lingered in the air. The bright yellow walls always struck Lilliana as blinding, but the woman who ran the crafts workshops called them cheery.
Two faces looked up at her from the table just inside the doorway. The chief’s looked worn and tired. Willie, seated opposite the police officer, looked worried.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Wentworth,” the chief said. “I hope you don’t mind that I started without you. You took considerably more than twenty minutes.” His tone was disapproving, and Lilliana was afraid he would tell her to leave at the least provocation.
“I’m sorry, Chief, but something came up.” She didn’t think it would be wise to tell him about the fairy. It certainly wouldn’t lend to her credibility as an investigator. She took a seat next to the police chief.
“The lieutenant was reviewing how he’d known Mrs. Robinson in Tucson, and how he’d only just found out she’d moved into the retirement home.”
Even though Willie was long retired from the Tucson Police Department, where he’d been Cartwright’s superior, the chief insisted on calling him Lieutenant. That little quirk might serve to keep him from being too hard on Willie; although from the look on Willie’s face, that might be a poor assumption.
“We were just about to get to the details when you arrived.” Cartwright turned to Willie. “So, exactly how did you know the victim?”
A sheen of perspiration covered Willie’s brow. “That was long before you and I worked together in the Violent Crimes Division,” he began. “Back when I was a beat cop, I got a domestic violence call. When I arrived at the location, there was Ruby, cowering in a corner, while her no-good, drunk-as-a-skunk husband was hitting her with his fists. I pulled him off her and cuffed him.”
Cartwright scribbled some notes in his notebook before asking, “And you remembered her after all this time?” The chief quirked up an eyebrow, and his voice held a hint of incredulity.
“That wasn’t the only time I got called to that address. Jamal got drunk pretty much every Saturday night. When Jamal got drunk, he hit on Ruby.”
“So it’s Jamal and Ruby, is it? Not Mr. and Mrs. Robinson?”
“Williams,” Willie corrected.
“Huh?” A very eloquent interrogator was Chief Cartwright.
“Jamal and Ruby Williams. Robinson was a later husband.”
“Later? How many did she have?”
“I’m not sure. A few.” Willie licked his lips.
“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Robinson? Before now, that is?” He tapped his pen on the notebook while he waited.
“It has to be twenty years. Maybe more.”
“When did you tell her about the club?”
“It was last night at dinner. That’s when I saw her in the dining room. I asked her to sit with me, and we caught up on old times. She was asking me what there was to do here. I knew Lilliana had a club meeting this morning, and I thought the two of them should meet.”
“Did she come into the dining room with anyone else?” the chief asked.
Willie shook his head. “No. It didn’t look like she’d met anyone yet. That’s why I wanted her to meet Lilliana.”
“Why Mrs. Wentworth in particular? Surely there were others you knew who you’d like her to meet.”
“Well, of course. But it seemed to me that she and Lilliana would hit it off. They’re both intelligent women, have a mind of their own.”
The chief stared at Lilliana. He looked as if he was going to remark on that statement, perhaps say something about her intelligence. Lilliana stared back, daring him to go ahead. The chief looked a
way first.
“You may go now, Lieutenant. I might want to speak with you again later.”
They watched in silence as Willie left the craft room.
“Well, it looks like this is going to be an easy case,” the chief said.
“What do you mean?” Lilliana asked.
“Everyone knows a murder victim is most often killed by someone she knows. The only one she knew was Willie.”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions, Chief? I believe Ruby Robinson moved into Rainbow Ranch several days ago. She had plenty of time to meet other people.”
“Not according to what Lieutenant O’Mara just told us. I think we’ve already identified our prime suspect.”
This could not be happening, thought Lilliana. Willie couldn’t have possibly killed Ruby. “Chief Cartwright—“
“You can call me Chad when we’re not interviewing witnesses.”
“Chad. Just because Ruby went to dinner alone last night doesn’t mean she hadn’t met anyone else. I think we should talk to a lot more people before you decide Willie is the killer.”
“Oh, I will, Mrs. Wentworth, but I think it’s clear there was more than a professional relationship between the Lieutenant and Mrs. Robinson.”
Lilliana was outraged. How dare he make assumptions about a fine man like Willie? Just as she was about to light into him, a ruckus erupted out in the hall.
Chad and Lilliana stopped their argument and questioned one another with a look. The chief rose from his chair and charged out of the room. Lilliana rose more slowly, wishing she was thirty—even forty—years younger, when she hadn’t had arthritic knees to contend with. Once on her feet, she arrived in the hall not too far behind Cartwright, who stood in the middle of the sitting area, his hands perched on his hips and his face clouded with anger.
When Lilliana reached his side, she saw why. Biff Buckley, the local television reporter based out of Bisbee, was inside along with a cameraman. The ambitious young man must have set a speed record to have reached the retirement home so quickly. He held a microphone up to his mouth, taping the witnesses to the crime and trying to get them to answer questions about what had happened. Poor Sarah was his first subject. Most of the people in the room had turned in their seats to watch him.
“We have here Sarah Higgins, president of the Rainbow Ranch African Violet Club.” Buckley’s face seemed to be half white teeth as he smiled into the camera. His expression squeezed his eyes into tiny slits. “Mrs. Higgins, can you tell us what happened at the club meeting this morning?”
“Hold on there, Buckley,” the chief bellowed as he strode toward the reporter. He stepped in between Buckley and his young cameraman, cutting off the shot of Sarah Higgins.
Buckley lowered the mic from his face. “Just trying to do my job, Chief. This is big news.”
“It’s also interfering with witnesses. I can’t allow you to speak with them before they’ve been officially questioned.”
Buckley flashed his teeth again and was about to say something when Lilliana interrupted. “Perhaps Mr. Buckley could hold his interviews outside the building. That way those who want to appear on television can find him after you’re done with their interview.”
Mary Boyle stroked her hair, preening before her chance at fifteen minutes—or more likely seconds—of fame. Nancy started digging in her purse, pulled out a lipstick with one of those little mirrors on the side, and refreshed her makeup. Willie was nowhere to be seen. He’d probably headed back to his room to avoid talking to any of the other residents.
The chief scratched his chin as he thought about Lilliana’s idea. “I suppose that would be okay.”
Buckley’s toothful smile stayed on his face, but it no longer looked natural. “I suppose I could do that. Get the sign in the background so everyone can see where the murder happened.”
Lilliana turned at the sound of the elevator door opening. Sam Horn, editor and reporter for the Rainbow Ranch Gazette, breathed heavily as he trotted toward them. Approaching sixty and slightly overweight, he was panting from his effort to catch up. His white hair brushed the collar of his dress shirt. Despite being a native Arizonan, Sam wore a suit, unlike the younger Biff, whose pale blue golf shirt was probably the most formal piece of clothing he owned.
“Bad news, Sam. We have to wait outside,” Biff said.
Sam scratched his head. “Can you give me the rundown, Chief?”
Cartwright shook his head. “Maybe later. I’ve just started my investigation, and as you can see—” he gestured toward the group behind them “—I have a lot of witnesses to question.”
Biff looked distressed. “How much later, Chief? Sam won’t publish until Saturday, but I have a five o’clock deadline to get this on the evening news.”
And, Lilliana supposed, he didn’t want to be scooped by the reporters coming out from Tucson to cover the crime, which they surely would once they got wind of the story.
“I can’t say. All I know is that the longer you keep me talking here, the longer it will be until I can have a press conference.”
Biff hung his head as he turned to leave. “C’mon, Joey,” he said to his cameraman. “Let’s set up outside.” They headed toward the elevator. Sarah watched their retreating backs until the elevator door opened and they disappeared inside.
Sam hung back a bit. “Sure you can’t give me anything now?” He looked hopefully at Cartwright.
“Sorry, Sam. You’ll have to wait outside with Buckley.”
Before Sam Horn could leave, the returning elevator disgorged Russell Ellison, the owner of Rainbow Ranch Retirement Community. “I just heard about the death. Who was it?” The man’s face was red, his expression worried as he leaned in toward the chief.
Before Cartwright could come up with the name, Lilliana said, “Ruby Robinson.”
“Who?”
“Robinson. Ruby Robinson. She was relatively new here. You must have met her when she filled out the paperwork. Black woman. Pretty.”
“Oh, her. I do remember her. Mrs. Robinson. What happened?”
“I’m still investigating.” Cartwright’s official voice strained past tight lips. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’d be happy to meet with you once I’ve finished questioning the witnesses.”
Several people came out of the card room and peered at the scene in the sitting area. The bingo game must have broken up. Pieter Joncker caught Lilliana’s eye, raised his eyebrows. Lilliana shook her head. The chief was right. They’d better get to questioning people before the embellished retelling of the murder to the curious changed their statements. “Mr. Ellison?” she said.
Ellison turned his attention toward her.
“Perhaps you could assist us by keeping people from gathering here. And try to keep the witnesses from discussing the incident among themselves. It would be very helpful, and you’re certainly a man who can take control of the situation.” She smiled at him, a politician’s smile, one meant more to flatter than engage. It worked.
“Why, yes, I’m sure I could do that.” He addressed those who had come from the bingo game. “Please clear the area, people. Go back to your rooms or go outside and enjoy the pool and gardens. Chief Cartwright has everything under control.”
A couple of the curiosity-seekers turned away, muttering to themselves. Pieter stood his ground, probably hoping Lilliana would fill him in once the others left.
“Mr. Joncker,” Ellison said in a stern tone. “Please go back to your room.”
Pieter reluctantly turned away. Ellison folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. Taking the hint, the rest of the bingo players drifted away. A self-satisfied smile spread over Ellison’s face. “There,” he said.
“Thank you.” The chief scanned the witnesses, most of whom turned away when his eyes reached them and found something else to do other than looking at those in charge. “Who should we question next?”
A very good question, thought Lilliana. There were no obvious suspects or she w
ould have suggested one of them. It wasn’t a good idea to give the guilty party too much time to work on his story. They’d already spent at least an hour since the murder questioning Willie and dealing with the disruptions. Since there didn’t appear to be any likely suspects, Lilliana thought it might be best to eliminate those least likely to have been the killer. “How about Nancy Gardner?”
“Fine with me,” the chief said. He raised his voice and called out, “Nancy Gardner.”
CHAPTER SIX
NANCY started in her place on the love seat next to Mary, then rose and edged her way past Lenny and Sarah to get to the chief. Nancy wore a lemon-yellow pantsuit on her no-longer-thin body. She’d taken off the orange and green sweater and held it draped over her arm. Most of her lipstick had already worn off, probably from pursing her lips together if the look on her face was any indication. When she reached the open area near the elevator, the chief said, “Follow me” and took a step toward the craft room. He stopped and addressed Ellison. “Would you mind staying here until we’re done with our questioning?”
“You can count on me,” Ellison said.
Satisfied, Cartwright marched down the hall.
Nancy fell in beside Lilliana. “Isn’t this terrible,” she said. “I never thought there would be so many murders when I moved in here. Maybe we should find somewhere else to live.”
“There have only been two,” Lilliana said, although two was a lot more than she’d ever expected. Probably a lot more than the inexperienced chief of police expected as well. Before the murder at the show and sale, there hadn’t been a homicide in Rainbow Ranch in one hundred years. “We’ve just had a run of bad luck.”
She said that to reassure Nancy, but Lilliana wondered if she wasn’t reassuring herself as well.
“Please have a seat, Mrs. Gardner,” Chief Cartwright said when they reached the craft room. He gestured toward the chair Willie had recently vacated. He and Lilliana took the seats they’d previously occupied. The chief picked up his pen. “Now, tell me in your own words what happened at the meeting today.”
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