Grand Prize: Murder!

by Vivian Conroy

  “I suppose so,” Ms. Tennings said. “Well, my friend Agatha is participating as is my bridge partner, so I do hope for them the hunt can be continued. They are both so excited at the prospect of going to London.” Ms. Tennings took her place behind the counter. “You run along and find some information we can use. I hope to overhear some tidbits that might help. See you later.”

  Marge drove Vicky out to the Rowland mansion. Vicky had called in advance to make sure Lilian was in. She opened the door dressed in a stylish light blue jumpsuit with a broad leather belt that had a silver clasp with icy blue stones. Her hair was now straight again, sporting a wet look. Her makeup was impeccable as ever, but she looked a little tired as she shook their hands and invited them into the sitting room.

  The doors to the terrace were open, and the mild air wafted in carrying the scent of the blossoming garden. Vicky sat down on a comfortable white leather couch and crossed her legs. “We want to know a little more about the party, the guest list. It seems that…” She glanced at Marge.

  Marge, who had taken a straight-backed chair, sat with her hands in her lap. “Did you invite a reporter named Grace Dinks?”

  “No. I would remember such an unusual name.” Lilian studied her thoughtfully. “Why? I’ve never heard of the woman. Should I know her? Is she important?”

  Vicky laughed. “Oh, she’d like to be. It seems she is hunting for a show of her own on TV and does not care who she has to trample to get it. Michael worked with her once and almost got injured because of her careless behavior. She is now in town to report on what she calls the Bella Brookes murder trial. I have a feeling she planned some of it from the start. So maybe she was here at the party Friday night and saw the guard, saw Bella arguing with someone, saw perhaps…the murder? Maybe she even committed the murder, we’re not sure.”

  Lilian had listened attentively. “Well, I did not invite her. But it seems possible people sneaked in without being invited. You see, Sydney told me who was in all of those photographs on the camera he took off the guard. He clicked through them fast, on the camera, and he mentioned a lot of local people, among them Bob Jones. You know, that guy who helps out in the general store? I have no idea how he got in here. I never invited him.”

  Marge frowned. “So it is possible that people who were not on the guest list were at the party anyway. Including this Grace Dinks?”

  Lilian inhaled. “It’s possible, but not very likely. I always pay close attention to my female guests, to their dresses—and this time especially—to their hats and fascinators, for the twenties’ theme. I knew them all. I’m sure that I would have spotted an unknown woman.”

  “Yes, and Grace Dinks has a pretty easy-to-notice look,” Marge said. “She is loud in every way. I bet if she had been here she would have looked like a walking fruit basket.”

  Vicky shook her head. “Grace is smart. She dresses and acts in a certain way, but she is serious about her career ambitions. If she had come here with a hidden agenda, she’d have made sure she blended in. Try to think of someone who looked elegant, stylish, with a nice hat, but someone whom you did not know. No immediate close friend of yours, or connection.”

  Lilian thought hard, but shook her head. “I knew them all. I talked to them all. Even to Bella and her assistant. What was her name? Lisa Something. Didn’t seem to be enjoying herself at all. In fact, I wondered why she had gotten a job in the entertainment industry where parties are a part of your work.”

  “Yes, well, it was all an act.” Marge crossed her arms over her chest. “Our dear Miss Coombs is gone. The police wanted to question her because she had been in the conservatory Friday night, but she left the resort, filled up her car and headed north. We suspect she is out of state by now. We can only guess as to why she was running.”

  “One thing we do know,” Vicky added, “her real name was not Lisa Coombs. The real Lisa Coombs, the college undergraduate who applied to be Bella’s PA for this tour, is on vacation in Florida.”

  “Did she know somebody took her place?” Lilian asked.

  Vicky shrugged. “I have no idea. I called her under a pretense, so I could not act like I knew somebody else had joined Bella’s team in her name. I was too stunned actually that the real Lisa Coombs was elsewhere to think further about it.”

  Lilian tilted her head. “Well, I wonder. Of course somebody can take your place without you knowing about it. As long as the other person is certain you are away and can’t pop up, it’s relatively safe. On the other hand, it could be agreed beforehand. I remember that when I was a teen, a friend of mine got a job in a fashion boutique and two weeks later her boyfriend asked her to join him and his parents for a trip to the Bahamas. All-inclusive resort under the palm trees. She told me to go to the job in her place. The money I earned I could keep. I did it. I think the boutique has never found out that the girl working there under the name Monique was really somebody else.”

  She smiled thinly. “We did no harm. But still I feel bad thinking about it. As a teen you just don’t realize that something like that is illegal.”

  “Well, I’m not sure about Lisa Coombs in Florida, but I bet our fake Lisa Coombs knew very well that what she was doing was illegal,” Marge said. “And that’s why she ran. If she was questioned by the police, her fake identity might have blown up, and she would be very suspect.”

  Vicky sighed. “But it doesn’t prove she was involved in the murder. She might have joined Bella’s team for very different reasons. I once heard of a young man who joined a senator’s campaign under an alias. He turned out to be an illegitimate son of the senator. He wanted to get to know his father and then decide whether to confront him with his fatherhood or not. Because his lies became known he had to tell the truth to defend himself against allegations of infiltration with a malignant purpose. Needless to say, it hurt the senator’s campaign, but I think they did manage to build a relationship.”

  “You think Lisa Coombs could be Bella’s daughter?” Marge seemed stunned.

  “Could be,” Vicky said. “We have to talk to Bella and ask about her past. Find out if she had love affairs, ever had a baby she gave up for adoption, whether she fired people who hate her for that. Anything that can lead us to people who have reason to hate her and want to hurt her.”

  She looked at Marge. “We also need to dive into the car matter. Find out if the thing was tampered with.”

  Lilian looked from one to the other. “Car tampered with?”

  Vicky related about Bella’s car trouble and Paul DuBree’s order to his assistant to look into it. Find out if there was foul play involved.

  Lilian immediately got up and walked to a table with a sleek silver cordless phone on it. “I know the local garage really well. They take care of all our cars. I can give them a call and ask about it. They appreciate me as a customer, so…” She punched in the number. “I might be able to help you along.”

  Vicky and Marge exchanged expectant glances as they waited for the phone to ring.

  “Hello?” Lilian put on a bright smile. “This is Lilian Haverton Rowland. Can I talk to Greg for a moment? No, nothing is wrong. Just a quick question. Hello? Greg! Thanks for coming to the phone. I bet you’re busy. No, my cars are fine. I just wanted to ask about the car of a friend. A sports car that was brought in on Saturday. Yes, that one. The friend is a bit worried about it. What exactly is wrong with it? I see.”

  She half turned and gave Marge and Vicky a wide-eyed look. “Can that happen just by itself? I see. Well, I don’t know if it will ease her mind. Yes, of course. I know the car is in great hands with you, Greg. Thanks so much. Bye-bye.”

  She put the phone down and tilted her chin up as if to say: listen to this. “Greg has looked the car over personally. Because it is expensive. He said that the brake line was busted. Could have been due to bad maintenance. He said rental cars sometimes don’t get the care they need. But he also can’t exclude that somebody tried to cut it. He told me that the friend should be careful with
her car next time. Careful with whom she rented it from and where she left it, unguarded.”

  Vicky whistled. “So there could really be somebody out to hurt Bella.”

  “We have to ask DuBree if he knew of other incidents.” Marge sat up. “His immediate suspicion after the car trouble proves he expected something to happen. There must be more to it than he lets on.”

  “We have to notify the police as well.” Vicky rose. “If Cash can be convinced Bella is the victim of malignant actions, he might release her for the time being to look for other suspects in the murder.”

  Lilian stood, knotting her fingers. “I do hope that he finds someone soon. I feel like there is some dark cloud hanging over my home.”

  Vicky took a deep breath. “Your brother Sydney acted weird, the morning you discovered the body. He had left so early. For a walk, he said?”

  Lilian flushed. “He got it into his head that he should exercise more. I bet it’s a whim, but it’s OK if he wants to try.”

  Marge frowned, glancing at Vicky as if she didn’t believe Lilian. Vicky also sensed there was more to it, but figured it was little use to pressurize her. Lilian had helped them with the garage and her insistence there had not been an unknown woman at the party who could have been Grace Dinks. That was something.

  They thanked her and left, setting out to ask questions at a few hotels. Marge repeated a few times she believed Lilian was lying about her brother and Vicky assured her they would pursue that angle at some later time. Right now they had to find out where Grace Dinks had stayed earlier, and fast, so they could make the community center by five.

  No hotel knew of a Grace Dinks, and nobody recognized a woman of her description. At last Vicky and Marge tried the Fisherman’s Haven, where a helpful clerk told them that Ms. Dinks had arrived earlier that day to rent a cabin. She had mentioned having stepped off a plane in Portland and suffering from jet lag as she had come straight from a wilderness expedition in Canada, close to the Arctic Circle.

  Vicky asked for the number of Grace’s cabin at the resort and the cabin’s phone number and the clerk gave it out willingly, as Vicky assured him she knew Ms. Dinks and wanted to keep her posted on developments surrounding the scavenger hunt. He pointed at the poster for it hanging beside the desk on the bulletin board. There was a cardboard card with it, updating the reader on the latest. “Stage 2 to be announced this afternoon at Glen Cove community center, 5 p.m.,” it said.

  Vicky thanked him for promoting it, and left with Marge, who immediately started to whisper that Grace Dinks could not have come from Canada. “She has to be lying about that. She must have been in town before. How else could she have caught on to the murder accusation so soon? How did she know about it, to come out here? Who informed her all the way in Canada, even in the wilderness? They don’t have cell phone reception there.”

  Vicky nodded. “That is odd. Or we have to assume that she knew Bella Brookes was doing a New England book tour and she wanted to report on the tour all along, as soon as her previous engagement with that expedition was over. She just happened to arrive when Bella was accused of murder.”

  Marge shook her head. “Too much of a coincidence for me. On the other hand, I still like to think the fake Lisa Coombs is behind it all. She suggested making the cozy author a suspect in the scavenger hunt scenario.”

  Vicky nodded. “Michael told me where she had last been seen. He sounded as if he was actively following it up. We could drop by his office and ask if he knows something more on our way to the community center.”

  “Michael is still in the hunt,” Marge said, “so I bet he will show up at 5 p.m. for his new clues. We can talk to him then. Saves time.”

  “Michael is participating to win the tickets to London? I thought he had been everywhere already.”

  “Maybe he wants to take you.” Marge glanced at her.

  Vicky squirmed in her seat. “Cash also wants to take me. He forced me to keep the murder a secret from Michael, you know. I think Michael suspects I knew more about it. I told him I kept it a secret on Lilian’s request, but I’m not sure he bought into that.”

  She entwined her fingers. “Mom’s also upset I’m into a murder investigation again. Everybody blames me for my part in it like I wanted it. I’m just trying to help Bella.”

  She picked her cell phone out of her purse to see if Claire had called her and indeed found several missed calls. Apparently the phone had buzzed without her hearing it, probably during the talk with the clerk at Fisherman’s Haven or the car ride.

  Vicky returned the call at once, hoping her mother was all right.

  Claire answered at the second ring and told her she was fine, but she was not amused by the calls she had been getting from some of her friends. “They tell me that there is something on the internet where people can share gossip and news and that the topic Glen Cove Murder is a hit there.”

  “You mean social media?” Vicky asked. “Hashtags?”

  “Well, I don’t know, I never go look at those things. You know computers scare the wits out of me. They never do what I ask.” Claire sounded impatient. “Anyway, there seems to be a new account now from someone in Glen Cove calling himself Glen Cove Live and there is a lot of nonsense on it, including that you organized the murder to have publicity for your store.”

  “What?” Vicky yelled, and Marge started and stared at her.

  “Murder Game Gone Wrong,” Claire proclaimed with flair. “It says you intended to enact a murder, but reality caught up.”

  “I have nothing to do with it. Bella Brookes’ PR people thought up the scavenger hunt. They are responsible for its contents, not me.” Vicky decided on the spot to ask Paul DuBree to make a statement to that effect, exonerating her. This was outrageous.

  “And who is behind this account Glen Cove Live?” she asked Claire.

  “I have no idea. My friends told me you can’t see that.”

  Vicky exhaled. “Thanks for calling me, Mom. I will try and talk to someone involved with the scavenger hunt to see how we can control the damage. But I guess we live in a free world, and people are entitled to give their opinion online.”

  She disconnected and told Marge what Claire had found out.

  “Doesn’t the name Glen Cove Live suggest that this is some sort of objective news channel reporting from the scene?” Marge asked. “At least people may think it’s genuine news, facts, and start spreading it accordingly.”

  Vicky nodded. “I suppose that’s the whole point of it. The person who created the account wants to start a wildfire.”

  “Maybe Lisa Coombs is behind the account,” Marge said with a grimace. “She is the master of impersonation. Maybe she thinks she can still do some more damage from afar?”

  Vicky sighed. “The PR team have to think of something to stop this person.”

  Back at the store Ms. Tennings told them there had been no customers except for one person asking if there had been a real murder at the party Friday night. Ms. Tennings had said there had been an incident with a guard and the police were looking into it, but she couldn’t say anything more about it.

  “Mondays are always quiet,” Marge said in a forced tone.

  Vicky wasn’t fooled. Marge was thinking what she herself was thinking. That people were already avoiding the store because of the rumors the murder had been a publicity stunt.

  She had to convince DuBree to set all of it right.

  Leaving Ms. Tennings at the store, Vicky and Marge crossed the street.

  The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, kids asked for ice cream, a guy selling balloons was just creating a balloon dachshund for a little boy.

  The atmosphere was relaxed, lazy, a great summer’s afternoon.

  But everything was different inside the community center. Not only was it less warm and light in there, but there was also a decided mental chill. Vicky could hear angry voices the moment she stepped in and moved through the hall.

  Paul DuBree stood with his assi
stant by his side, Grace Dinks in front of them with a tape recorder. She tried to force her microphone into DuBree’s face as she kept repeating the question of how the murder affected the scavenger hunt. As soon as DuBree spotted Vicky, he motioned for her to come over. “Excuse me, we have to talk.”

  He took Vicky’s arm and ushered her into a separate room, an office for community center volunteers, and shut the oak door in Grace Dinks’ face.

  Vicky bet the reporter was hovering at the door to overhear what they were saying and talked in a whisper. “What’s up?”

  “That’s what I want to ask you. That woman claims you accused me of duping people with the scavenger hunt. Some artificial cut we want to make via the website? I have never heard such nonsense before. We should never have come to this town. Everybody is insane here.”

  Vicky shook her head. “It’s not our fault somebody died. Or that your company employed a phony. Did you know Lisa Coombs was not who she claimed to be? The real Lisa Coombs, the person on whom the company has a file, is not here, never was. The person who left this morning was somebody else, who infiltrated your league for whatever hidden purpose.”

  Paul DuBree’s face was ashen. “That woman knows all about our strategies. She signed a secrecy agreement of course but in the name of Coombs. If she is not who she claimed to be, then…”

  His voice pitched. “Who is she? Where is she now?”

  “Nobody knows.” Vicky studied him closely. “I thought you might know. Since you seemed to know her intimately.”

  “I didn’t know her at all. How dare you…”

  Vicky touched his arm. “Better keep your voice down. That Dinks reporter is right outside the door.”

  DuBree whispered with emphasis, “I didn’t know Lisa Coombs at all. She was thirty years younger. Hardly in my league.”

  Vicky held his gaze. She didn’t want to make a scene, but this seemed like the ideal opportunity to jump him with her assumption. He was undone now, might let something slip. “You did kiss her.”