by Tracy Kiely
“Or kinky.”
Aunt Winnie nodded in agreement. “Or kinky. I wonder if Ian knew.”
“I wondered about that, too,” I said. “Let me see that notebook of yours. I might have an idea.”
* * *
IZZY CALLED US about an hour later to see if we wanted to meet her and Cora for lunch. “We’ve just finished talking with Inspector Middlefield,” Izzy said. “Charming woman. I hope she chokes on her suspicions.”
“I take it, then, that your mom is still a suspect?” I asked.
“That would be putting it mildly,” she answered morosely. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
I glanced at Aunt Winnie’s open notebook on the bed, which now contained several pages of my own scribbled notes. “I think I might have some ideas on that. Why don’t Aunt Winnie and I meet you and your mom at that café down the street from your hotel.”
“The Pig and Fiddle?”
“That’s the one. Let’s meet there in about half an hour, and we can discuss it.”
There was the briefest of pauses. “Can you tell me now?” she asked.
“I’d rather not get into it over the phone,” I said, wondering why that would make a difference. But for some reason, it did. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
“We’ll be there,” answered Izzy.
When Aunt Winnie and I arrived at the pub, Izzy and Cora were waiting for us. The coveted outdoor heated garden area was full, so we got a table in the main room, a cheerful area jammed full of various sporting memorabilia and comfy leather sofas.
“What do you know?” Izzy asked as we sat down. “Have you figured out who did it? Have you figured out a way to get Mama off the hook?”
I held up a quelling hand. “Wait. I don’t know anything for sure, but I do have a couple of ideas.”
Izzy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the wooden table. “Well? What are they?”
I glanced at Aunt Winnie. I had already discussed my suspicions with her. She nodded her head for me to continue. “Now, please keep in mind,” I said, “that this is only an idea, and I really need you to promise not to repeat it.”
“Sure, of course,” answered Izzy.
I took a deep breath. “It’s about Ian,” I said.
“Ian!” Izzy and Cora repeated in astonishment.
“Shhh!” I ordered, nervously glancing around to see if anyone had overheard us. “Keep your voices down!”
“Sorry, but Ian? You must be crazy!” Izzy protested. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a teddy bear!”
“That’s what the neighbor of every killer says, right after, ‘He was always so quiet and kept to himself,’” I retorted.
“You think Ian killed his father? For what? His money? I don’t believe it,” Izzy scoffed.
“People have killed for far less. And I’m not saying that Ian killed anybody. I’m just saying that I’ve discovered a few things that are odd.”
“Like what?” Izzy asked, her color suddenly pale.
“Well, as strange as this may sound, I think Valerie was having an affair,” I said.
Both Cora’s and Izzy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment at this. “Valerie? You’ve got to be joking!” said Cora.
I quickly told them what Mary had told me. Cora stared back at me, clearly horrified. Izzy’s expression was dubious.
“Are you sure? I really have a hard time believing Valerie was that … adventurous. I mean, Ian told me…” She paused.
“Ian told you what?” I asked.
“Nothing. It’s not important,” she said quickly. “In any case, I still don’t see how any of this implicates Ian.”
“I realize that. What does implicate him is the fact that he lied to the police.”
Izzy’s eyebrows pulled together. “When? When did he lie to the police?”
“He lied about being in Gail’s room the night of Richard’s murder. He told me that he’d seen the ambulance from her window, but Gail’s room doesn’t look out onto the street.”
Izzy suddenly reached across the table and grabbed my hands tightly. They were very cold and very strong. “Did you tell the police that?” she asked in a low voice.
I stared back at her in confusion. “Well, yes, I did. Why?”
Izzy cringed and closed her eyes. She gripped my hands even tighter. I winced and tried to pull them back. “Because I know where Ian was that night,” she said, her voice small.
“You do?” A sick suspicion suddenly settled in the pit of my stomach. “Where?”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “He was in his room. With me.”
CHAPTER 27
They were very accomplished and very ignorant … and the object of all was to captivate some man of much better fortune than their own.
—SANDITION
“WHAT?” CRIED CORA in the universal tone of motherly outrage. “You were where?”
Not to be outdone, Izzy raised her blond head in the universal pose of adolescent defiance. “You heard me, Mama. I’m not repeating it.”
“But Izzy, you don’t mean that you … that you…” Cora broke off, unable to complete the thought.
“Slept with him? Actually, I do mean that.”
“But what about Allen? Do I have to remind you that you are engaged?”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “Of course not, Mama. But you know that I’ve had feelings for Ian for a long time now.” From Cora’s dumbfounded expression, I gathered that Cora had no idea whatsoever of this tidbit. Izzy continued, unconcerned. “While I’m very fond of Allen, I know now that he isn’t The One. Ian is. And on this trip, well, we grew closer. I can’t go back to Allen now. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fair!” Cora yelled. “How can you possibly pretend to be in a moral position to judge what’s fair?”
Several heads turned our way. “I think it might be a good idea to either leave or lower your voices,” I said, suddenly wondering what the hell I’d been thinking in suggesting that we have this meeting in a public place.
Cora glanced around and lowered her voice accordingly. “I can’t believe you, Izzy. I really can’t. To betray Allen like this is terrible! What kind of girl are you?”
Izzy raised her head and stared unblinking into her mother’s eyes. “I’m the kind of girl who goes after what she wants. I wanted Ian, and I got him. Allen is a nice man, but he’s not in the same league as Ian. I’m sure he’ll understand when I tell him.”
Cora blinked. “But Ian’s married!”
Izzy shrugged. “Unhappily married.”
“And now he’s not either,” offered Aunt Winnie.
Izzy flushed. “I realize what you must think of me, but I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve done. That said, I had nothing to do with Valerie’s death, or Richard’s, for that matter. And I promise you, neither did Ian.”
Cora stared at Izzy in horror and pressed her hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned. “Izzy, you have no idea what you’ve done!”
Izzy stuck out her chin in apparent indifference, but her chin wobbled a bit, and she was having trouble meeting her mother’s agonized expression. “Well, I think you’re a bunch of hypocrites!” she finally said. “You just told me yourself that Valerie was apparently having an affair. Ian was lonely and unhappy. I did nothing wrong!”
I glanced over at Aunt Winnie. She rolled her eyes in disgust. I quite agreed. Turning back to Izzy, I said, “You have to tell the police, Izzy. You have to tell them that you were with Ian, because I’ve told them that he couldn’t have been with Gail when Richard was killed.”
Izzy reluctantly nodded. “I will. Of course, I will.” Reaching out, she impulsively grabbed my hand again. “But please don’t you be mad at me, Elizabeth! You would have done the same, you know you would have.”
I gently, but firmly, pulled my hand away. “No, Izzy. I wouldn’t have. You went after a married man—a married man with a small child—simply because he was a better prospect than you
r fiancé. I think what you did was pretty despicable, actually.”
Izzy looked as if I’d slapped her.
The image of Valerie’s face rose in front of me again, and I suddenly found myself wishing that I had.
* * *
THE REST OF LUNCH WAS A STRAINED AFFAIR. There was very little conversation, and no one seemed to have much of an appetite. Once it was over, we quickly parted ways, with Izzy promising that she would call Inspector Middlefield. She also kept hinting that once I thought about everything from her point of view, my anger at her would fade, and we’d be friends once again.
Out of respect for Cora’s obvious distress, I said nothing, even though I was sorely tempted to tell Izzy that I thought she made Lydia Bennet look like a prude.
As Aunt Winnie and I walked back to our hotel, I said, “I’ve got to tell you, this festival is nothing like I thought it would be.”
Aunt Winnie shook her head in disbelief. “I know. In a weird way, it’s a little funny. Not funny ha-ha, mind you, but funny weird. Baines saw sex and intrigue in Austen’s novels, and yet it seems like all the sex and intrigue was actually going on around him.”
“I thought it was weird the way Izzy kept flirting with Ian,” I said, “but I thought she was doing it to tweak Valerie, not because she actually liked Ian! Of course, I don’t think for one minute she really likes him. I think she only likes his money.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised when I stop to think about it,” said Aunt Winnie. “Izzy is a very pretty girl, and, as Cora herself said, she usually gets what she wants when she puts her mind to it. Given Valerie’s rather unfortunate personality, and Ian’s own weak will, it couldn’t have been hard for Izzy to seduce him. Especially as it seems that Valerie was fooling around herself.”
“My head is spinning from all this,” I admitted. “Izzy seduces Ian on the night that Richard is killed. Is it a coincidence, or does it have something to do with his murder? I mean, Ian inherits a lot from Richard’s death.”
“And now Valerie has been deftly removed from the scene,” added Aunt Winnie.
“Of course, Izzy could be lying about their being together,” I mused.
“How do you mean?” Aunt Winnie asked. “Why would she do that?”
“Well, if she says that she’s with Ian, and he backs her up, then she has an alibi. Which means that…”
“… she couldn’t have killed Richard,” finished Aunt Winnie. “Interesting theory. Just one question.”
“Really? Just one?”
“For now. Why would Izzy want to kill Richard?”
I paused. “She might be tempted if she thought she was in line to become the second Mrs. Ian Baines.”
* * *
NOTHING MUCH MORE was said after that. I think we were both caught up in trying to puzzle out what this latest development meant. When we got to the hotel, I was dismayed to see John in the lounge area. He leaped to his feet when he spotted us. “Elizabeth!” he called out to me, as he hustled his slight frame across the lobby to where we stood. “Can you believe this? Valerie Baines! Dead! It’s bloody awful. What have the police told you?”
I stared at him in confusion. “Why would the police tell me anything?”
“Well, you are working for them, aren’t you? I’m sure you told me that you were.”
“I never said any such thing,” I protested, but John would have none of it. He continued to ask, pry, hint, and repeat all that he’d heard in connection with Valerie’s murder, most of it woefully wrong. I gave up trying to correct him as that only seemed to prolong the conversation, and so I stood in silence waiting for him to run out of air. As I did so, I glanced down to the far end of the lobby and saw Gail and Lindsay exit the bar. Deep in conversation, they didn’t seem to notice our presence. Gail spoke soothingly to Lindsay, who was weeping into a napkin. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the body language seemed to indicate that Gail was trying to convince a reluctant Lindsay of something. After a minute, Gail reached into her purse and pressed what appeared to be a check into Lindsay’s hands. After a moment’s hesitation, Lindsay put the check in her pocket. Gail said something else, and Lindsay nodded, before leaving by the side exit.
Right then, Gail looked up and caught me staring at her. Without a word, she turned and went up the stairs. But I’d seen her face. She was scared.
CHAPTER 28
[She] consoled herself for the loss of her husband by considering that she could do very well without him.
—MANSFIELD PARK
AFTER I’D EXTRICATED MYSELF from John—no small task in and of itself—I headed up to Gail’s room with Aunt Winnie. Silence met my knock, but I wasn’t buying it. I rapped my knuckles a tad harder against the wooden door. “Gail,” I called out. “I know you’re in there. Please. I’d like to talk to you.”
The silence was replaced with a faint shuffling sound followed by the lock sliding open. Gail opened the door and regarded me with a weary expression. Her face was haggard, and her eyes were red. And a shade glassy, I amended, after closer inspection. I wondered if Valerie’s death had sent Gail back to her prescription-induced emotional shield. “Elizabeth, this really isn’t a good time,” she said. “I have a lot to do. Ian and I have to make arrangements for poor Valerie’s funeral. There are a lot of tasks that we need to attend to.”
I nodded. “I am sorry, Gail. I really am. But I need to ask you about the night that Richard died.”
Gail’s face betrayed no emotion. “Yes?”
“How long was Ian gone?”
Gail sighed and opened the door wider and stepped aside. “You might as well come in. This isn’t a conversation that I want to have out in the hall.”
Aunt Winnie and I stepped inside the room and sat down. Gail took a seat on her bed. “Why do you think that Ian was gone?” she asked with one last effort at motherly protection.
“Because I just had a conversation with the person he was with,” I answered.
Gail’s shoulders slumped in acknowledgment. “Oh. Well, I guess there’s no use in saying otherwise. Yes, Ian left a few minutes after he brought me back here. I … wasn’t feeling well,” Gail said, her eyes sliding away from mine as she uttered the euphemism for wasted. “He put me to bed and then left.”
“Did you stay here, then?” I asked.
Gail nodded. “Yes. I did. I think I dozed a bit.”
“Do you know where Ian went?” I asked.
Gail looked away. “I have a general idea. He was with Izzy, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head. “No, but I could see that Izzy was pursuing him, and it was clear that Ian was flattered. I guess a mother just has a sense about these things when it comes to her children.”
“Do you think that Valerie knew?” I asked.
“No,” Gail answered quickly. “It would never occur to Valerie that Ian would cheat on her. Valerie ran things in that relationship, so to speak. She was rather single-minded in some ways.”
“Do you think Ian was going to leave her?” I asked.
“Absolutely not!” Gail said firmly. “Look, I don’t approve of what Ian did—that’s the sort of behavior I put up with myself for years. But he wouldn’t have broken up his family because of it. He wasn’t going to end up like…” She suddenly closed her mouth and crossed her arms across her chest.
“… his father?” I asked.
She gave a curt nod. “Yes. Richard cheated on me from day one. Hell, I think he even fooled around when we were on our honeymoon. He was incapable of keeping his pants on when there was a pretty girl to be had,” she said bitterly. “Ian may be his only child by name—but I suspect that were one to poke around a bit, they’d find that Richard sired many more children ‘on the wrong side of the sheets,’ as they used to say. Poor things. I’m sure Richard never bothered with helping any of them.”
“Is that why you were talking to Lindsay just now? Were you trying to help her?�
�
She didn’t answer right away. “Yes,” she said finally, “I was. I wondered about her. She was just the type of girl he went for: young, naïve, and inexperienced. He’d swoop in like the wealthy, sophisticated charmer and keep them dangling from a string for a while until he grew bored. He was in all manner of ways a rat bastard. I called Lindsay today and asked her, well, I asked her if she needed any help.”
“That was very kind of you,” said Aunt Winnie.
Gail produced a rueful smile. “Is it? I don’t think so. I knew the kind of man Richard Baines was for years and never said a word. I watched him seduce and lie and cheat. And I held my tongue because I was too proud to admit it. I suppose I feel a bit like Darcy did about Wickham. Had I made his worthless character known and all that. I figure the least I can do is help Lindsay. Call it a symbolic attempt at restitution.”
“Well, I’m sure she appreciates it,” I said. “I wonder what Alex’s reaction will be.”
Gail smirked. “You’d have to ask her, of course, but I would imagine that she is not going to be happy when she finds out what goes around, comes around.”
I didn’t say anything, but I rather wondered if Gail’s generosity toward Lindsay stemmed more from the whole “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” adage than any real desire for restitution.
I suspected it did.
I also wondered if she had really stayed in her room as she claimed.
* * *
BACK IN OUR ROOM, I said to Aunt Winnie, “So what did you make of Gail?”
Kicking off her shoes, she plopped down on her bed and stretched out her legs. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t decide if I like her or think she’s a phony. I didn’t get the impression that she was broken up about Valerie death.”
I flopped on my bed as well. “Me neither. But to be fair—”
Aunt Winnie stopped me. “Valerie was the mother of her grandchild. Gail may not have liked her, but to not mind seeing her dead is something entirely different.”
“True. But I wonder if some of her lack of emotion could be pharmaceutical in nature rather than something more sinister. Her eyes were glassy again.”
