“And apparently Mason was a big backer to a movie they were both working on, but when it went over budget and over schedule, he pulled out and left them high and dry.”
“Hmm.” Lacey watched them at the croquet game. Ed—Frederick—was still in it, but Christine—Linzey—had been sidelined, along with Zachary. Now it was just Sam, Ed and Roger.
“Veddy interesting,” Lacey said, doing her silliest German accent.
“We all have motives,” Nina said.
“Yes, we do.”
Just then Irene stepped out on the patio. She joined Christine and Zachary and watched as Sam summarily retired Ed and then Roger.
“Good game,” she said. “And just in time for lunch. Come on.” She waved to the three women at the tables.
Lacey made her way over to Sam and walked beside him toward the house. To his credit, he didn’t gloat.
“You wield a mean mallet,” she said. She peeled $1000 out of her wad of money and handed it to him.
He shrugged. “I got lucky.” But he took the money and pocketed it.
“We’ll have to have a rematch,” she insisted.
He grinned. “Bring it on.”
They were reassigned seats at the table once again, but this time the alternating male-female format was scrapped. Lacey sat between Christine and Veronica, across from Sam, who was flanked by Roger and Zachary. She gazed at her husband as the cucumber salads were set before them.
Christine leaned close to Lacey’s ear. “I still can’t get used to the beard and the mustache,” she whispered.
“And the turban,” Lacey whispered.
Christine nodded, grinning.
Sam’s dark, impenetrable eyes followed the exchange. Lacey flashed him a smile and tasted her salad.
It occurred to her as she ate that she had been mostly keying in on the men as murder suspects. Perhaps this new seating arrangement was Irene’s way of remixing the suspicions. Lacey really hadn’t considered Christine at all, no doubt her familiarity casting Linzey in a positive light. As for Veronica, Lacey had passing thoughts, but found it hard to imagine the portly sixtyish woman getting so physical. She realized she had to separate the characters completely from their real life counterparts.
She vowed to do that after lunch.
But lunch was a welcome break from all the brainwork, all the suspicioning and conniving. The open-faced crab melt was delicious and the mint tea was delicate. She relaxed into it and forgot about everything else.
Until the tip of a shoe rubbed up against her ankle. At first touch, she dismissed it as accidental, but when the shoe continued its ministrations, she knew it was absolutely purposeful. It wasn’t coming from the side—neither Christine nor Veronica—but from across the table, where sat Zachary, Sam and Roger.
She glanced up. Zachary was laughing at something Irene said. Sam was cutting a bite of his sandwich.
Roger was staring at her.
She inhaled sharply. Was this a joke? Part of the play? Or a real come-on? When Lacey’s eyes met Roger’s the shoe never stopped.
She moved both feet to the side. Roger glanced away.
Still uneasy, she bent to her lunch. The touch returned. Light, caressing, but meaningful. She snapped her head up. Roger was talking to Ed.
She slewed her head sideways.
Sam was staring at her, the barest smile uplifting the corners of his mouth.
She glared at him, and saw the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle in response. Certain now, she lifted her own foot and slid it up the leg across from her, up, up, and around to the inside of the thigh.
Sam’s smile disappeared, replaced by a worried frown. He quickly pulled his leg back and angled it away from her questing foot.
See how you like it, she thought. She could give as good as she got.
Sam left her alone for the rest of lunch, but when she glanced over at him later, she saw again that ghost of a smile.
~~~
TWELVE
After lunch, they were free again to play, plot and connive. Lacey demanded a rematch of croquet, and this time everyone wanted in. Since there were only six colored balls and mallets, two had to sit out and await the second round. Sam and Lacey volunteered.
Seated at the table closest to the croquet field, he leaned close.
“Four o’clock,” he said in a low voice.
“What’s at four?” she asked. She had an undeniable urge to rip off his mustache for that stunt at the table during lunch.
“Walk the dining room,” he said.
“Oh. Yeah.” She’d almost forgotten. They watched the game in silence for several minutes, Zach and Ed making clear progress.
“I almost threw my glass of mint tea in Roger’s face, you know.”
He muffled a laugh, his raised eyebrows showing his surprise. “That would have been interesting.”
“And embarrassing,” she added. She took the opportunity to expand the whispered conversation. “Who do you think did it?”
“I’m formulating a theory,” he said.
She gouged him in the side with an elbow. “I’m leaning toward Roger.”
He nodded. “Could be.”
She huffed out a breath. He wasn’t going to give her jack shit.
“Did you know Christine—I mean Linzey—is transsexual?”
That caught him short. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked.
“Dunno. Maybe that was going to be the announcement. Mason bankrolled a movie Linzey and Frederick were making, then pulled out. They lost their shirts.”
“Huh.” He watched Ed—Frederick—hit the start pole with a flourish and become poison. “An announcement like that would pretty much screw up any chance at a comeback career.”
“Right.”
“Zachary took quite a few bribes in his younger years on the bench,” Sam said. “Helped out several of Mason’s less savory friends.”
“Oh?” She’d wondered if Mason had been alluding to bribes, but hadn’t heard conclusively. “And Lady Nina worked as a high-priced escort before nobility found her.”
Groans and muttered expletives accompanied Ed’s poisonous rampage, and one by one his victims were knocked out. Before any of them joined Sam and Lacey at the table, she leaned in.
“What about you, Vasan? Cutting up bodies? What was that about?”
He gave her a wicked smile just as Christine and Nina flopped into chairs.
“Guess we’ll sit out the next one,” Christine said, “since we’re the first casualties.”
Sam got up and went to claim one of the mallets for the next game.
Lacey stared daggers after him.
Casualty indeed.
~~~
It proved difficult to make deals and garner information during the croquet tournament, so Lacey let that slide until a better opportunity presented itself. She did, however, come in second in the next game, beat out only by Zachary. She was even the one to knock Sam out before she herself fell victim to poison.
At 3:45, she nudged Sam and tapped her watch. “I’ll go get my phone,” she told him quietly. “Meet you there.”
She begged off from the upcoming game and trotted upstairs. Since cell phones were banned from the play times, hers was buried at the bottom of her pack. She got it out and checked the battery strength—good—and wandered back downstairs.
Irene and Sam were waiting at the reservation counter.
“Mason’s inside the dining room,” she said. “We’re both eager to see this.”
Sam nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
She tapped lightly on the closed dining room door and Mason opened it a crack. Once sure it was them, he pulled it open for them and stepped back.
“How do we do this?” Irene queried.
“Can you lock that door?” Sam asked first.
“Sure.” Irene took one last look out, just to make sure no one was around, and locked the door.
“What about that kitchen door?” he ask
ed.
“It doesn’t lock, but I’ve told the staff to not come in here. They’re busy with dinner prep anyway. You may hear noises from there. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” he said, surveying the room.
“What we’ll do is this,” Lacey said. “Sam will walk the area where Ellis appeared last night and pick up whatever he can. I’ll video him as he does, so we have a record of it. Then we’ll have to figure out exactly what keeps Ellis here. As soon as we know that, we can release him.”
Both Irene and Mason nodded their understanding.
“Why don’t you two sit here?” Lacey said, indicating the two chairs furthest from the area Sam would walk. They sat, and Lacey got her phone set up to video.
“Ready?” Sam asked.
She clicked the start button and gave him a thumbs up.
Sam went to the wall where Ellis had first appeared. He stood very close, but not touching. He lined his own feet up in what might have been Ellis’ footsteps.
For the first time, Lacey wondered if having those rented dress shoes on instead of his soft moccasins would be a hindrance to Sam. She hoped not.
He stood very still, his eyes closed, his arms loose at his sides. Again, Lacey was reminded of Carnak the Magnificent, and swallowed down a laugh.
Get a grip, she told herself.
Sam stood motionless for several moments, only his nostrils flaring. Then he lifted his chin and opened his eyes a fraction.
“Heavy sorrow,” he said. “Growing regret. More and more weight to bear. How much was enough? How much was too much?”
He inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He took a halting step forward.
“Doing his job—a well-paid job. He had pledged his loyalty as an honorable man, as his father would have. But the more it went on, the more he was asked to do…”
He stopped, halfway to the far wall. Stopped and stared sightlessly down at his hands held out before him.
“His father’s hands were blackened by coal dust, yet clean. His own were immaculate yet dirty. Blood-stained.” For a moment, Sam clasped his hands together and pantomimed wringing them, wiping them, washing them. Lacey was reminded of Lady McBeth, and a chill crawled up her back.
“The blood may wash away,” Sam said, “but the stain is never gone.”
He stared again at his open hands, and a heavy sigh of regret lifted, then sagged, his shoulders. He lifted his chin. “He’d made his deal with the devil. He’d bear it until… until it became unbearable.”
Lacey sensed Sam was almost done, yet at that moment, the ghost of Ellis Garroway appeared out of the wall behind him, walked through Sam, and disappeared into the opposite wall.
Lacey saw that moment when Ellis occupied the same space as Sam, when his spectral body overlaid Sam’s. She saw Sam freeze, no breath infusing his body, no movement of arms, legs, eyes.
Then Ellis was gone.
She bit her lip and watched anxiously as Sam blinked, sucked in a deep breath, and finally turned toward her.
“That’s all,” he said.
Lacey turned off her video and slid her phone in her pocket quickly because Sam was stumbling toward the table. She rushed to him and took his arm, guiding him into a chair. Once he was seated, she sank down in the chair next to him.
Irene and Mason moved to adjoining chairs.
“Are you all right?” Irene asked.
Sam’s normally copper skin looked colorless. He rubbed his eyes, then blinked at the three people staring at him.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think so.”
“What was that?’ Lacey asked. “Did he walk through you?”
He nodded, then put his hand out to Irene. “Could I… trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Of course.” Irene was on her feet and heading toward the kitchen immediately, returning in just seconds with a tall glass.
“Thank you,” Sam said. He downed half of it, then set the glass down. He did not, however, let loose of it.
The water seemed to help. He sat back in the chair and exhaled heavily.
“I think that’s one of the most heavily laden ghosts I’ve ever encountered,” he said.
“It certainly sounded like it,” Irene said. She shuddered with a visible chill. “That poor man.”
“So the sorrow—and regret—was for all the criminal acts he was involved in?” Lacey asked. “Whatever he did at Philo’s behest?”
“Exactly,” Sam confirmed. “I didn’t get a lot of detail from him, but I felt… bodies. Bodies being… disposed of. Like… trash.”
“Ugh.” Lacey frowned down at her phone. “And it sounded like he came from an honest family, a conscientious hard-working family.”
“I believe so,” Sam said, nodding. “A simple, yet principled family. Poor but proud. Moral.”
“And no amount of money could compensate for the things he did.” Lacey thought back. “But he was supporting his mother back in Ireland. He was between a rock and a hard place.”
“Pretty much.” Sam took another sip of water. “Well, I’d say we have all the information we need.” He looked to Irene and Mason. “When can we release him?”
Irene checked her watch. “I don’t see how we can tonight. Tomorrow? After everyone leaves?”
“That works,” Sam said. “He’s waited this long; he can wait another eighteen hours.”
“Good.” Irene sighed. “We need to get everything ready for our gala night, and you two need to change.” She smiled with an ironic sadness. “We still have a murder to solve.”
~~~
THIRTEEN
Sam told Lacey to go ahead and take the bathroom first. He pulled off the turban and settled his long body on the bed.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She sat on the bed beside him and took one hand in hers.
“Yeah. Just a little… I don’t know, tired, I guess.” He looked up at her. “That was weird. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
“What’d it feel like?” she asked softly.
”Frozen. I felt like I was literally inside a block of ice, but just for a second. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.”
“That’s scary,” she said.
“Yeah, it was. But it happened so fast, it didn’t really register until it was already over.” He shrugged. “I just know I don’t want to ever do that again.”
“I’ll bet,” she said. She squeezed his hand. “You’re okay now, though, right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Go ahead. We’ve got a gala to get ready for.”
She smiled weakly. “Okay. You want another glass of water?”
“Let me check the mini bar,” he said. “Something with electrolytes would be good.”
He started to get up but Lacey pushed him down. “I’ll get it,” she said.
She found a sports drink and brought it to him. He cracked it open and took a long drink.
“Oh, yeah,” he sighed. “That’s good.”
“You just rest,” she told him. “I’ll be in there at least twenty minutes.”
“Take your time,” he said.
Not bloody likely, she thought as she shut herself in with her evening gown and her assorted paraphernalia. Luckily none of her preparations would be overly time-consuming. She was counting on the dress to carry most of the weight; she could pull her hair up into a French knot and secure it with the pink headband. A little extra makeup and she was good to go.
And she got it all done in just under twenty minutes.
Sam was snoring softly.
She sat carefully beside him, both to protect her dress and to not wake him too suddenly.
“Sam?” She put a gloved hand to his cheek.
Those black eyes opened on her. He studied her disguise, her hair pulled up uncharacteristically to reveal her long, slender neck, the rose pink gown hugging her curves, revealing milky white cleavage.
“You, Mrs. Unrue, look fabulous. Good enough to eat.” He sat up
and reached for her.
“Huh, uh, buster.” She straight-armed him. “No one’s wrinkling this dress.”
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “That’s easy. Take it off and hang it up.”
“Hah!” she laughed harshly. “After what it took to weasel into it? Not on your life.” She stood and looked down at him as she tugged her elbow-length white gloves more firmly up her arms. “I’m going downstairs. See you there.” She left him staring after her, a decidedly rueful look on his face.
~~~
The ballroom had been transformed. The large chandelier had been turned off, but the room was strewn with thousands of tiny twinkle lights that shadowed as much as they revealed. A musical quartet was set up at one end, and the soulful strains of the clarinet wound through the crowd. Lacey smiled and nodded to people as she made her way to the bar and ordered pink champagne.
Ed and Christine met her there.
“Great dress,” Christine said.
“Thanks,” Lacey said. “Yours is, too.”
Christine’s was a deep teal color, strapless with a beaded bodice. Ed looked rakish in his tuxedo.
“What’s Dr. Chowdhury going to surprise us with tonight?’ Christine asked.
Lacey made a rude noise. “I have no idea. That man is far too good at keeping secrets.”
Zachary, sans Nina of course, joined them. “So tonight’s the night,” he said, toasting each of them with his martini. “I understand we’ll get the last bits of evidence from Maybry.”
“Oh, good,” Lacey said. She was anxious to see how the new information fit in with her theory.
“You got it figured out?” Zach asked her.
She remembered Nina asking if she was a cop. Had she somehow become the go-to authority?
“I’m leaning,” she said.
He looked to Ed and Christine. “You two?”
Ed grinned. “I have ideas.”
Christine groaned. “I have too many ideas. It could be anyone.”
“What about you?” Ed asked Zachary.
He nodded, sipping his drink. “I think I have a plan.” He arched an eyebrow at Lacey.
Mystery Walk Page 7
