by Dee Ernst
Sybil finished first, throwing down her pen. “Will there be a test?” she asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” Sam said, straight-faced. He took her paper and pen. “And whoever gets the lowest score will probably go to jail.”
Annalise raised her head. “Surely, what we’re doing now can’t be used against us in court,”
“Of course not,” Sam said. “This is just a tool for my own use. There’s nothing better to flush out a lie than someone else’s truth.”
Annalise frowned, looked down at her paper, and held it up. Sam took it with a smile.
In the next five minutes, he’d collected every paper. He sat down next to me, shuffled the papers until he found the one he was looking for, then took a deep breath.
“Bennett and Claudia, if I remember correctly, you two left the living room first. Where did you go?”
Bennett shifted in his chair. “To our room.”
“Did you see Rob?”
“I thought he was still in the living room.”
“He wasn’t,” Jory said. “He left.”
“When?” Sam asked.
She frowned. “I think as Nadia was talking.”
“Anyone agree with that?” Sam asked.
Several heads nodded.
“So it was possible he was in the foyer, possibly by the desk. Bennett, did you see him?”
Bennett shook his head. “No.”
“Okay, then,” Sam said. “What did you do next?”
Bennett turned pink, but braved it out. “It involved my wife. And it was rather intimate. Do you want details?”
Sam shook his head. “No. But then what?”
He stayed on them for over an hour before taking a break. His technique was different from Detective Stuart in that he knew those people, and didn’t feel the need to be all that polite. A few of them bristled under his questioning, but bit-by-bit, he got through Bennett and Claudia and Nadia. He started on Jory when she threw up her hands and asked if there was food anywhere. I didn’t blame her. It was surprising how hard it was to sit and listen to people answer questions. I was starving and needed a bathroom break.
Sam stood and flexed his shoulders. “Can we all be back here in fifteen minutes? The kitchen is still off-limits, but we there are plenty of places that deliver, right Meg?”
She nodded. “I’ll make some phone calls,” she said, and hurried out.
I walked over to Sam. “I’m running upstairs for a minute. You’re very good at this.”
He smiled down at me. “Gee, thanks.”
I elbowed him. “I mean it. Anyone jumping out at you yet?”
“Nope. We’ve got a ways to go.”
I left and ran upstairs, used the bathroom in my room and then called Caitlyn. I got her voicemail, of course, so I told her I was having an interesting time without telling her why, and sent loud kisses, knowing she’d be embarrassed and pleased.
Then I called my best friend Shelly. “I only have two minutes,” I told her.
“Oh? He’s keeping you that busy?” she teased.
“I wish. The make-believe murder has turned into a real one.”
She made a noise, something between a snort and yelp. “Are you kidding? I’m beginning to worry about spending time with you, girlfriend. You would appear to have a cone of death around you.”
“Not funny. We’re all basically under house arrest. I can’t come home until someone is arrested, so Sam and I are playing Nick and Nora Charles.”
“Who?”
“Oh, Shelly, how disappointing. I’ll have to get you a Dashiell Hammett anthology. What’s new there?”
“James and I are spending New Year’s Eve together. Just the two of us. The boys are with Mike. I think I’m seeing a lawyer in the next few weeks.”
I bit my lip to keep from saying anything. Shelly had gone from happily married mother of two boys to a train wreck of woman, meeting and falling in love with a James Fergus in a few short months, and asking her husband to move out of the house. I had been torn when it happened. I did not want to see any marriage broken up, especially not one that had been going along fairly smoothly. But Shelly said she was really in love for the first time in her life, and was happy—how could I argue with her about how she felt and what she wanted in her life? I’d kept my opinions to myself and tried to be supportive.
“So, that’s a big step.”
Her voice cracked. “I know. It’s killing me, Ellie. It really is.”
My heart wilted. “Oh, honey, I know how hard this is. Believe me. It killed me, and by the time I went to a lawyer, Marc and I weren’t even speaking to each other.”
She cleared her throat. “You’d better solve whatever’s going on and get back here. I need you.”
“Believe me, I’m trying. Love you.” I hung up and stared down at my cell phone.
Why did life have to be so friggin’ hard?
When I went downstairs a few minutes later, Sam and Louis were in what looked to be a come-to-Jesus conversation in the foyer. Sam was talking intently while Louis stood there, his head down, looking miserable.
I crossed the foyer to peek into the living room. Meg had straightened it up, probably, and Sybil, Annalise, and Bradley were sitting in there, heads together, talking. I backed away and peeked into the library. Kevin was there alone, hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring out the window. I passed by the gorgeous Christmas tree and went back into the dining room Nadia was there, looking intently at her phone. She glanced up at me, then away. I sat and looked around.
Sam’s papers were gone.
I stood back up.
He had put them on the table next to where he’d been sitting. The pile of pens was still there, as well as the blank sheets of paper. What were missing were the papers collected from all of the possible suspects.
I hurried back out to the lobby.
Louis was poking around in the last doughnut box.
“Where’s Sam?” I asked him.
“Went to his room,” Louis said, and took a doughnut. I headed for the stairs.
He was coming out of our room, his hands empty.
“Sam, the papers are gone from the dining room. Did you take them?”
He looked blank for a second, then his face got dark. “They’re gone?” He brushed past me and bolted down the stairs.
I followed him into the dining room, where he stood for a moment, shaking his head. I saw his shoulders heave as he took a long breath.
“Obviously, the answer was on one of those papers,” he muttered. “How in the hell are we going to find them?”
“No one can leave,” I said. “And there are no fires lit yet. So, whoever took them probably stashed them in their room.”
“Or in the library between the pages of a book, or in the couch cushions in the living room, or…” Sam ran his fingers through his thick, gray hair. “Or in their back pocket.”
“Can’t you just ask everyone to start over?”
He shook his head. “No. Because something that was already said, by Bennett or Claudia or Nadia, caused a panic in someone. Whoever the killer is will cover their tracks a second time around.”
There was a commotion in the foyer, lots of footsteps and loud voices. I went toward the ruckus, Sam behind me. Louis Michel, Sybil’s husband, was being handcuffed. Detective Harry Fine stood there, reading him his rights.
Sybil, halfway down the stairs, cried out and flew past us. A uniformed officer blocked her way.
Detective Fine turned, caught sight of Sam, and shook his head grimly. Detective Stuart rounded the corner from the kitchen, barking orders behind her. She flashed a piece of paper at Sybil.
“This is a warrant,” Detective Stuart said briefly. She showed it to Meg, standing, dumbstruck, by the fireplace. “We’ll be searching Mr. Michel’s room. Can you come with us, Mrs. Gillian?” She took Meg by the arm and guided her gently, then motioned with her head. Two officers followed her upstairs.
Sybil had her phone
out, and was speaking rapidly, her eyes never leaving Louis’s face, following as they led him out.
Sam swore quietly under his breath and followed Detective Stuart upstairs.
Meg had let them into the room and was standing in the hallway, hands over her mouth, breathing too fast and too deeply. I grabbed her and guided her to the bench at the end of the hallway. I made her sit, and then pushed her head down between her knees.
“Breathe slowly, Meg, or you’ll hyperventilate and pass out,” I told her, watching Sam as he went into Sybil and Louis’s room.
She brought her hands up to grab her hair and started sobbing. She sat up suddenly, her face red and tearstained. “Why?”
I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. “Louis was from France. Rob studied in France. Did Rob say anything about Louis? That he’d known him before?”
She shook her head and mopped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “N-no. At least—“ She stopped and sniffed. “That’s what he meant,” she whispered.
“Who? That’s what who meant?”
“Rob. Friday night. He said something about how he could finally get even.”
I slipped off the bench and knelt in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Okay, Meg, now think hard. What happened to Rob in France? Do you know?”
She nodded and sniffed again. “He was working in Lyon, for a very famous chef, and the restaurant closed down. The bank took it. Rob was very loyal to the chef, and the old man ended up killing himself. That’s when Rob returned to the U.S.”
Louis worked in banking. Was that the connection? It had to be. I stood slowly and went down the hallway.
Sam was in the center of the room with Detective Stuart, obviously angry. Around them, officers were methodically going through drawers, books, and half-filled suitcases. It was loud, and Sam was keeping his voice very low, so I had no idea what he was saying. Detective Stuart got in his face and cut him off, and I could hear the pitch of her voice as it rose over the cackle of walkie-talkies and the shuffling of feet.
“I don’t need any more information,” she told him. “We have our suspect. You are now in danger of interfering with an ongoing police investigation, Mr. Kinali, so I suggest you leave.”
Sam clenched his jaw and came toward me, brushing past, grabbing my hand as he went. We went downstairs in silence.
The foyer was crowded. Bradley was talking earnestly with Detective Fine, and Annalise was by his side, looking relieved and exhausted. Kevin saw us and hurried over.
“Louis? Sam, do you have any idea why?”
Sam exhaled loudly and shook his head. “There was something about Rob knowing Louis in France. It was a definite connection. I’m not sure.”
Jory slipped her arm around Kevin’s waist. “Does this mean we can all go home?”
Sam nodded. “Probably. “
“Thank God,” Kevin said, hugging his wife closer. “Poor Sybil.”
Bradley bustled over. “Can you believe it? Louis? “
“No,” Sam said. “I can’t.”
Bradley caught sight of Bennett, and hurried off.
“You don’t?” I asked quietly.
Sam took another long breath. “Louis is the only one who didn’t have an opportunity to take those papers. I was with him the entire time.”
“So Louis wasn’t the one worried about being found out in a lie?”
“No.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s innocent.”
He looked down at me. “What is your instinct telling you?”
“That Louis didn’t do it.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter 6
We were back in our room, and Sam was pacing. “We need to get to Nadia,” he muttered.
“So, we’re eliminating Meg as a suspect?”
He nodded, stopped pacing and looked at me. “You agree?”
“Yes. But Nadia insists she never had an affair with Rob. What other motive could there be?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what we have to find out. If we eliminate Louis and Meg, it has to be her. Otherwise, we’re talking about Rob doing something, or seeing something in the last twenty hours that got him killed by a total stranger.”
“But you talked to Nadia. You walked her through the afternoon. Wouldn’t you have found something if she was lying?”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. Maybe she realized that somebody was going to contradict her, or claim to have seen her somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.”
“So, where do we start?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Well, ideally, we could search her room. See if our interview papers are hidden there.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting a little breaking and entering, Detective Kinali?”
“No. I’m suggesting I ask Meg to open Nadia’s door while you keep her busy downstairs.”
I hopped up off the bed. “I can do that.”
It wasn’t as easy as it should have been, because there were still police everywhere. Sam managed to get Meg into a quiet corner of the library, but I had to figure out how to engage Nadia for twenty minutes. Finally, my growling stomach gave me what I needed.
“Hey, Nadia, would you come with me? I’m going to try to put together something for lunch.”
She had gone back to the dining room and was sitting alone, watching the activity with interest, but at my suggestion, she jumped up. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I feel helpless just sitting here.”
We walked through the foyer, and I made sure Sam saw us. Then, we tackled the officer at the kitchen door.
“We just want to feed everyone,” I explained. “Doughnuts can only go so far.”
He looked around and waved over Detective Stuart, who looked harried and unhappy.
“What? Food?” She shook her head. “Really?”
“If we can’t get into the kitchen, can we at least walk down to Main Street and get sandwiches?”
She looked at me steadily, then at Nadia. “Okay,” she said at last. “but just take your coats and cash. And be back in half an hour.”
Perfect. Except my coat and cash were upstairs. In my room. And so, I assumed, was Nadia’s.
Oh…crap.
“Nadia, wait.”
She had moved toward the stairs, and paused, looking back at me.
Think, think, think…
I don’t know what I was waiting for. Divine inspiration, perhaps? Just something to keep her from going up to her room when Sam and Meg were probably also up there, looking around…
‘Hey, who ordered food?” someone called.
I closed my eyes in silent thanks, opened them, and found the source of my salvation: a short young man carrying a cardboard box, looking very confused.
“Somebody named Meg called,” he began.
Detective Stuart waved him in and pointed him in my direction. Nadia turned away from the stairs and crossed to help me.
“What happened?” the deliveryman asked.
“They just arrested someone for the murder of Rob Gillian,” I explained, looking into the box. It looked like several sandwiches wrapped in deli paper and plastic containers filled with…potato salad? Macaroni salad? Did I smell clam chowder?
I stepped back to avoid drooling all over myself.
Nadia looked over my shoulder. “This all looks amazing, but maybe I’m just hungry. But we still have to pay him, right? Should I go and get some money?”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll get it,” I said, hoping I wasn’t sounding too anxious. “Just, um, stay here and guard the food.”
“Are you sure?” She asked. “It doesn’t seem fair for you to have to pay for all this.”
“Don’t worry,” the deliveryman said. “We’ll just put it on Meg’s tab.” He shrugged in his coat and left.
I almost melted into the floor in relief. “Let’s get this to the dining room,” I suggested, and Nadia nodded and followed me in.
“So, Nadia, how well did you know Rob, really?”
She shrugged and pulled the top off a container of coleslaw. “He was a pig. I made it clear the very first time I came here I was not interested in him, but he always made a pass. This is my business, and I have to be very careful. It was only after I threatened to use another inn did he leave me alone. I brought lots of money here, but he had no respect for me. Or for Meg, for that matter.”
“Why did she put up with it?” I asked.
“What was she going to do, leave him? And do what? This place was all she had, and she was making a success of it.”
“What about your business?”
She looked uncomfortable. “He once threatened to sabotage my weekend if I didn’t, well, accommodate him.”
“Is that food?” Jory asked, sprinting in from the foyer. “Thank you, Ellie.”
“Don’t thank me, Meg must have put in a call,” I said.
Jory called for Kevin. I had about three seconds left with Nadia before the room was overrun with hungry guests.
“Is that why you killed him?” I blurted.
Nadia’s jaw dropped. “Me? Seriously? Sorry, but you’re very wrong. I thought he was disgusting yes, but Meg is the one who hated him.”
She shook her head, grabbed a tuna on whole wheat, and went to sit down across the room.
Kevin, piling his paper plate with sandwiches and salad, elbowed me gently. “Say, if you have some time later, do you still think you could look at my manuscript?”
We left Manchester just before seven o’clock that evening, and drove straight through. We didn’t even have a conversation about staying there until New Year’s Day. Rob’s parents arrived shortly after lunch, and at five o’clock we were told we could leave Chilton House. We could not pack fast enough.
