A Deadly New Year: A Mt. Abrams Mystery (The Mt. Abrams Mysteries)

by Dee Ernst

  She shrugged. “The last lady who was back here hung out with me in the kitchen all day. She helped cook, baked some bread…she said it was fun.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” I said, and followed her back through the kitchen.

  She looked sympathetic. “Hey, the first time Nadia did this, the victim was in the back storage room, with the dishwasher and all the mops. We never go in there. That poor lady sat for hours.”

  I drained my glass then handed it to her. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll see you later.”

  Sam and Sybil were gone, so I came back into the gathering room, now fairly crowded. In fact, everyone was there except for Louis and Sybil. Sam was standing next to Kevin, nodding at something being said, and as he saw me he motioned with his head for me to join him.

  He kissed the top of my head. “Kevin here wants to be a writer,” he said. “He thinks that John Grisham had the right idea.”

  Kevin looked at least ten years older than Sam, but his eyes were dancing with excitement. “I have a manuscript. Do you think you could take a look?”

  I kept my smile pasted on my face. “Sure. No problem. I’ll give you my email address, and you can send it to me.”

  “I have my laptop upstairs. Maybe if there’s any down time this weekend…?”

  Sadly, I was going to have lots of down time. “Maybe,” I said. “We’ll have to see how it goes.”

  Nadia stood and called for attention. Louis and Sybil had just entered, Louis looking very subdued, and Sybil’s face still blotched and red.

  “Well, I think we should start by introducing ourselves to each other. I am Janet Muldoon. I’m here to do a little skiing. My day job is as a New York City homicide detective. I’m unmarried, and just thrilled to be here.” She looked around. “Who would like to be next?”

  Annalise raised her hand. “I’m Marian Davis, and I’m here with my husband, Michael, and we’re antiquing this weekend. We’ve been married twenty-five years, have three grown children, and are thinking about retiring next year.”

  Bradley stood up. “I’m Julien Monk, and I’m married, but this weekend I’m here with a very good friend of mine, Samantha Blackburn.”

  People chuckled, and I stood, walked over to Bradley, and then snaked my arm around his waist.

  “And I’m Samantha Blackburn, and I just know this is the weekend Julien tells me he’s leaving his wife.”

  Oohs and aaahs, and Jory, the stay-at-home mom, waved her hand.

  “That might not be happening,” she called out, “because I’m Julien’s wife, Heather, and I showed up to surprise him.”

  Laughter, and Nadia beamed.

  We went around the room, but I wasn’t interested. Sam, it seemed, was a reporter for an infamous gossip magazine, but I couldn’t even get excited about that. In an hour, I’d be off to the pantry, and from there I’d be in exile.

  At least everyone else seemed to be getting in the spirit. Nadia clapped her hands and everyone listened attentively.

  “We’ll begin. It’s cocktail hour. Our innkeeper, Philip, has just heard from Heather that she’s on her way. So, while he’s serving drinks, Samantha and Julien are going to have a serious conversation. Heather, why don’t you go out for a few minutes, and we’ll get ready for your arrival.”

  Jory hopped out of her chair and scurried out. Bennett was given the role of the innkeeper, so he crossed over to the drinks cart and looked around. “What’s everyone having?”

  We never got a chance to find out, because that’s when the screaming began.

  Sam was the first one moving, and I was right behind him. He ran past Jory, standing, open mouthed by the front door. He headed for the kitchen.

  It was Meg. We followed her screams past the refrigerator and pantry, back to the broom closet, where she stood, hands in her hair, mouth open in horror. Sam grabbed her by the shoulder and moved her away from the doorway, stopped short, then turned, pushed Meg into my arms, and looked around quickly.

  “Ellie, Rob is dead. Take Meg out of here, and get her somewhere quiet in a hurry. Then, I need you to look out the front door. See if there are any footprints.”

  I turned Meg toward the front of the house. She’d stopped screaming and her breath was coming in short, hard sobs. Sam went through the kitchen, and I felt a rush of cold air as he opened the back door.

  Bradley followed Sam, and Bennett took Meg’s other arm as we maneuvered her out of the kitchen and into the foyer.

  “Get her in a chair,” I said to Bennett, then hurried to the front door to open it.

  It had stopped snowing, but just barely. There were still swirls of snow kicking around, but for the most part, all was still and quiet. The snow-covered walkway up to the front door was a pristine sheet of white.

  I closed the front door and locked it.

  “What happened?” Sybil was asking, along with just about everyone else. Sam and Bradley came around the corner, and Sam was on his phone.

  Bradley held up his hands. “Everyone, get back to the living room. Rob is dead. Nobody go upstairs, just sit and wait for the police.”

  They were shocked into silence, and moved as one away from Meg, who was now rocking back and forth, moaning softly. I watched Sam, as he spoke into his phone, obviously to the police. He slid it back into his pocket, crossed over, and then put his arms around me.

  “Are you Okay?”

  I nodded against his shoulder. “There were no footprints,” I told him.

  He swore.

  I looked up at him. “What?”

  “No prints at the back door either.”

  “Why is that important?”

  He gave me a hard squeeze and let me go. “It means that no one came in or out of the inn between the last time anyone saw Rob alive, which was about the time the snow stopped, and now.”

  I felt something heavy in my chest. “That means one of us killed him?”

  Sam nodded, squared his shoulders, and then went in to tell his friends.

  I stood in the doorway of the living room, arms folded across my chest, feeling cold and sick. I kept glancing at Meg, huddled in a chair in whimpering misery. Sam went into the center of the room, held up both his hands to quiet the barrage of questions, and looked around at his friends.

  “Rob has been killed. Murdered. There’s a kitchen knife in his back, and someone in this room is responsible.”

  I watched as their faces went from shock to outrage.

  “That’s a ridiculous accusation,” Bennett sputtered.

  “No, it’s not,” Sam said calmly. Once again, the voices rose in an angry, confused buzz, and Sam held up his hands. “I make that assertion,” he said loudly, “because I happen to be something of an expert in this area. Rob was alive two hours ago. It was snowing hard at the time. Not a lot, but enough to create a new layer of snow around the house, a layer that has not been disturbed by footprints. Whoever killed Rob did not leave the inn, unless they flew. So, the killer is hiding somewhere, or sitting in this room. The police are on the way, and they will search the house. If they can’t find anyone, then…” His shoulders slumped. “I can’t imagine anyone in this room being capable of something like this, but I can’t ignore the facts.”

  “We don’t know what Nadia is capable of,” Jory sputtered. “We don’t know her at all.”

  I looked at Nadia, thin lipped and trembling. Boy, it didn’t take long for people to start throwing each other under the bus.

  “You probably don’t know Meg very well either,” Nadia spat. “If you’re looking for motive, I bet—“

  “How dare you!” Meg screeched. She flew out of her chair and threw herself at Nadia, who jumped up and out of the way. Luckily, Sam grabbed Meg around her waist and held her, literally picking her up off the floor. Meg thrashed there for a moment, arms and legs flailing, before she went limp.

  Sam let her down gently. She sank to the floor and started crying again.

  Sybil went to the drink cart and poure
d a large amount of vodka into a glass. “Sam, why would any of us want to kill someone we just met?”

  “Obviously, there’s someone here who knew Rob before this weekend,” Sam said. “Whoever did it, you’ll be found out. There is nowhere to hide. It would be best to step forward now.”

  Jory joined Sybil and poured herself something, possibly Scotch, and gulped it down straight. “Sam is right,” she said. “The sooner we get a confession, the sooner we can all leave this place and get home.”

  You’d think it would be easy to spot someone who had just killed another human being, that there would be something in their face or demeanor that would give them away. A look of guilt, maybe. Or shame. Or maybe a release of tension so great that the face would crumble and dissolve into tears. But I saw nothing like that on the faces of Sam’s friends. They all looked shocked, and possibly angry, but there was nothing that any of them did or said that made me think, yes, that’s the murderer.

  “We were all together two hours ago,” Sam said. He slipped into his official mode. “Where did you all go after that?”

  “Where were you?” Kevin called out, his voice cracking.

  “I was up in my room with Ellie. We were together the entire time, reading our folders, until we came down with the rest of you,” Sam said calmly. “And you. Kevin?”

  “Jory and I were also in our room. I actually napped.” Kevin glanced at Jory, who nodded.

  “If you’re looking for someone without an alibi, Sam, that would be me,” Bennett said. “I did not go to my room. I ducked into the library here, that little room off the lobby. I was alone.”

  “Which means Claudia was also alone,” Sybil said. “Right, Claudia?”

  “What of it?” Claudia challenged. “I never saw that man before last night. Where was Nadia? She’s been here before. She knew Rob.”

  Nadia was huddled in a corner of the couch. She lifted her head. “I was right here the whole time. Sybil, you saw me.”

  “Yes, for five minutes. What about the other fifty-five?”

  “Why were you down here, Sybil?” Sam asked.

  Sybil lifted her chin. “I misplaced my phone. I was looking for it, in here and the dining room.”

  “You weren’t looking very hard,” Nadia countered. “You barely stuck your head in.”

  Sybil drank down the rest of her vodka, turned, and then poured another glassful.

  “Easy, darling,” Louis called out. “You want to make sure you’re head is clear when the police arrive. Heaven forbid you should confuse your story.”

  Story? I had been watching Sybil, but I turned to Sam. His face was expressionless.

  “Last chance,” he said.

  And then I heard the sirens.

  Chapter 4

  Sam unlocked the front door to let in two uniformed patrolmen. He flashed his badge, exchanged a few words, then led one of them back into the kitchen.

  The other policeman stood to watch over us in the living room.

  Bradley and Annalise stood huddled together by the fireplace. Bennett and Claudia had had apparently called a truce and were sitting next to each other on the couch. Sybil was on the other couch, next to Jory, drinking more vodka. Louis was standing by the window, talking to Nadia. Kevin came over to stand by me, his hands in the pockets of his pressed designer jeans.

  “Is she okay?” he asked in a whisper, nodding toward Meg, who was back sitting in a chair, hands clasped together, face red and blotched.

  “I suppose she will be, eventually,” I whispered back.

  He sighed. “We’re usually a very fun group,” he said softly. “I’ve come to like these people very much. This is just awful.”

  “Murder usually is,” I said. “And I’ve come to understand that anyone, even someone you think you know very well, is capable of horrific things if pushed hard enough.”

  “So, you really think it was one of us?” his voice rose in amazement.

  “Yes,” I said shortly. “A fact is a fact, Kevin. And no one left the building after Rob was killed. What other explanation could there be? Sure, there’s Nadia, and Meg, but there are more of us. The odds aren’t so good, you know?”

  His mouth opened to say something else, but he clamped it shut and moved away.

  There were more sirens, and people started streaming through the front door. Sam reappeared and flashed his badge again, this time to a short, gray-haired woman in a puffy black coat. They had a brief but very serious conversation, then Sam came over to stand next to me.

  “This is going to get real ugly, real fast,” he said.

  I leaned back against him, grateful for his solid warmth. “I know. I’m so sorry, Sam. This was going to be such a great weekend.”

  He put his arm around my shoulder. “This was supposed to be a weekend where you would be safe. And here I put you in a house, surrounded by strangers, one of whom is a killer.”

  “But you’re here, and you’ll protect me.”

  “Damn right I will.”

  The gray-haired woman came back out from the kitchen, and shook off her coat. She was dressed in a plain black suit and was wearing arctic-proof snow boots. She cleared her throat, but it was unnecessary. Everyone in the room had stopped talking as soon as she’d entered.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Detective Stuart, of the Manchester P.D. As you know, Robert Gillian has been murdered, and it looks like the perpetrator is still on the premises. My people are searching the house and the grounds, but unless something changes, I will assume that whoever did this is in this room. You will all be questioned individually. If there’s a lawyer you want to call, do it now. If there’s something you’d like to say to me privately, I’ll be back in the kitchen. Have one of the officers here escort you back.”

  No one spoke. No one moved. She gave it a minute, then nodded and turned.

  She looked up at Sam. “As much as I appreciate your initial assistance, you do realize you’re just as much a suspect as everyone else, right?”

  Sam smiled faintly. “Of course.”

  She reached down to put a hand on Meg’s shoulder and spoke very gently. “Mrs. Gillian, I’m very sorry for your loss, but we need to ask you some questions.”

  Meg looked up, nodded, and then followed Detective Stuart through the front room.

  Bennett spoke up. “So, Bradley, it looks like I need a lawyer. Can I put you on retainer?”

  Everyone laughed nervously.

  Bradley shook his head and pulled out his phone. “I actually know someone over in Burlington. I’m going to have him drive over.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Jody asked. “You’re all lawyers.”

  Her husband made a rude noise. “Yes, it’s very necessary. I know someone too. Ex-prosecutor. I’ll give him a call.” Kevin pulled out his phone as well. In seconds, Sybil and Bennett had their phones out, and were busy swiping and dialing.

  “Sam?” I whispered. “Who should we call?”

  “That pizza place in town” he whispered back. “Ask if they deliver. It’s going to be a very long night.”

  I consider myself something of an aficionado of police procedure. After all, it’s my job as an editor to make sure the writer is getting it right, so I had done hours of research on all sorts of procedures and behaviors. So I wasn’t surprised when Detective Stuart set up the library as an interview room, rather than dragging everyone down to the police station. She was dealing with a bunch of lawyers, for one thing. I also figured that the Manchester police department was probably pretty small, and there wouldn’t be enough chairs for all of us.

  Detective Stuart was no dummy. She called for help from the county sheriff’s department, and had us all politely confined to the inn. No one went out, although a few additional lawyers managed to get in, as well as the pizza, a delivery from the laundry service for clean sheets, and the part-time girl who was supposed to have been helping with the evening’s dinner and festivities. Poor little thing —she immediately broke down cryin
g and had to be driven home by the police.

  Sam and I sat at the top of the stairs, watching everyone as they were escorted to and from the library. It was after ten, and Sam was nursing a very big Scotch. I had been tempted with wine but stuck with seltzer. The whole inn was buzzing. There were forensic people, uniformed officers, and at least two hound dogs from the sheriff’s department sniffing around outside. But we were the ones being watched the closest. Sam and Detective Stuart shared the theory that the killer was sitting in the great room, drinking expensive wine, looking outraged and innocent.

  I leaned against Sam. “So, whodunit?”

  “No friggin’ clue. I’ve known these people for years. I can’t even imagine.”

  “It could very well be Nadia. After all, she has been here before. Or Meg. Aren’t spouses usually guilty?”

  He nodded. “Yes. But you saw Meg. I don’t think she’s that good an actress.”

  He was right. If Meg had just killed her husband, she had been putting on one heck of a show. “It would be good,” I said slowly, “if we knew who had an alibi.”

  He looked down at me. “Seriously?”

  “I don’t want to be under house arrest until Valentine’s Day.”

  “Ellie, I can’t believe you would actually consider snooping around like that. We are in a house with a killer.”

  “And a horde of police.”

  “Whoever killed Rob found a moment alone.”

  “So I’ll make sure I stay in a crowd.”

  “I did not bring you up here—“

  “Mr. Kinali?” A uniformed officer was at the foot of the staircase. “Detective Stuart would like to see you now.”

  Sam stood up, drained the last of his Scotch, then handed his glass to me. “Would you mind taking this back into the living room?”

  I stood up beside him and took the glass. “No, I shouldn’t mind at all.”

  Then I followed him down the steps and watched as he walked off toward the library.

  They did not look very happy. Maybe it was the pizza that had served as dinner. It’s hard to get really good pizza in Vermont. The crust had been soggy and the sauce…well, never mind.