by Tyler Colins
“Your aunt did,” May-Lee said solemnly. “He'd been an off-and-on smoker for years, but more on than off. When you saw it, Prunella nearly had a stroke. She was sure you'd pick it up and keep it as evidence.”
Rey held up her empty glass. “Could I get a refill?”
“Go for it, as the saying goes,” she twittered like an American Goldfinch, “but don't make any sudden or stupid moves.”
Rey sauntered to the sideboard and poured ginger ale, no rye. “What about Jensen? Did he tell Prunella about his findings or that Aunt Mat was alive?”
“He had no idea that your aunt was alive. He did, however, stumble across the curare and Poison Hemlock in the cellar. Prunella had brought enough to kill ten people – a 'just in case' reserve – and tucked them between boxes of sound-effect CDs and silly, rubbery creepy-crawlies. At the time she'd had no idea they were items Jensen would be using to help Matty scare the dickens out of us.” She gestured with the Webley. “Please pour some soda and leave it on that side table over here.”
Rey did as requested, her gaze and actions cautious. May-Lee Sonit was being civil, even pleasant, but you never knew what a killer could or would do if incited. Linda gestured the bottle of Grand Marnier. Rey shrugged and poured a small amount in a new snifter. Linda gestured again. More streamed in. “So, Prunella more or less confronted Jensen?”
“She slammed the stake into him and he grabbed her necklace as he was going down. Would you care to fill in the blanks?” I urged gently with a benign smile.
It was Linda who responded. “Prunella suspected he was in the cellar, readying for a prank, and she quickly headed down there while we were refreshing ourselves. She should have left it be. He'd have had no idea who'd put the poisons there.”
“But he might have brought them to the police and they might have dusted for fingerprints,” Rey offered.
“That's spot on.” May-Lee nodded. “Not knowing of her involvement – or how dangerous she could be – he told her what he'd found and that he was considering informing the sheriff because there was no doubt in his mind that the items had been stashed by the killer.” Another finch-like twitter.
“Huge mistake,” Rey said flatly.
“Huge and foolish,” I concurred. “The stake in the heart certainly proved just how dangerous – and unhinged – the woman was. I'm surprised he didn't see it coming.”
“He probably thought she was simply going to swat him,” was May-Lee's casual response. “She's exceptionally strong and vicious, and quick. By the time he realized it was a stake flying at him with the velocity of the Shanghai Maglev, it was in his chest, and way too late.”
“But he grabbed the necklace, in a final flash of hope and purpose.”
“I'd never have believed her to be the vicious type. Peculiar yes, maybe even creepy, but vicious no.” Linda nodded thanks as Rey passed the drink. “Let's get back to Porter, a.k.a. Crackers. When did she start enlisting his services?”
“It was a little over four years ago that she discovered the man was an old, not-so-dear associate. As you well know, he was an introverted sort who always disappeared when guests were around. Try as Matty did, he simply refused to greet guests and accept compliments or permit people into his kitchen. He was exceptionally accomplished at avoiding people.”
“Except for Percival,” I reminded her. “Who did speak with Porter on a few occasions.”
Recall shrouded her face like a widow's veil. “That's right.”
Entrenched in the moment, Linda leaned forward. “Porter's most recent services included helping with moving bodies and concealing evidence, right?”
“Yes.” She took a sip of soda and waited for another question.
Rey's smile was dry. “I guess once a criminal, always a criminal.”
May-Lee looked skeptical. “What choice did he have? Once Prunella recognized him, his fate was sealed.”
“Notorious pasts and nasty deeds have a way of catching up, even when lives have traveled new paths.” I envisioned a strident, unpleasant confrontation between the cook and birder. “The quiet, normal existence he'd embraced by moving to Connecticut eventually proved to be anything but.”
“Shit happens,” Rey said dully.
Linda took the helm again. “Like we'd discussed, he obviously developed cold feet at one point and she had no option but to ensure his silence. Out came the blowgun again … right?”
“The curare, not the blowgun. She mentioned he was becoming increasingly nervous. He's a thief, an embezzler – or at least he was – but cold-blooded murderer? No. He had a great stomach for food, not killing.”
“But he did bomb the restaurant he worked at in San Francisco,” Rey stated.
“He never admitted that, even when Prunella pressured him, so it's anyone's guess whether he actually did or not.”
“The curare didn't fell him as she'd schemed, did it?” Linda inquired.
May-Lee scanned the room, as if collecting thoughts. “Let's back up. Prior to the garage episode, maybe a half hour before, she'd asked him to move Jensen's body from the cellar to the garage. The barrister was in one of the large trunks, in case you were wondering; she'd put him there herself, believe it or not.”
“I believe it,” Rey affirmed. “She grabbed my hand once and man, she had a vice-like grip. She seemed to have Superwoman strength.”
“Why the change of shirt?” I asked, curious.
“She bandaged the hole so it wouldn't ooze and leave telltale trails; a fresh shirt would keep the binding in place. That was her thinking.”
Linda paled.
“Anyway, the cook placed the body in the trunk of the car, little knowing that she'd strategically placed a curare-dipped pin where he'd not see it, but feel it. Unfortunately it either didn't prick him as deeply as planned, or she'd not administered the right dose, so it didn't have the full, intended effect. Knowing how she'd killed Thomas, Porter immediately realized what had happened. He'd shrieked and we came.”
Linda nodded. “She was the first one at his side.”
“Percival was there pretty quickly, too,” I reminded her.
“Under her breath, Prunella told Porter it was merely a warning, but if he attempted to leave the estate for good, she would find him no matter where in the world he went and ensure that he received enough curare to cut short his life … after she lopped off certain parts of his body.”
“Percival knew this?” Rey asked.
“He'd suspected she'd been up to evil doings because she'd been missing on a couple of occasions just prior to the discovery of bodies. That, and a couple of other trifling actions put him on – what shall I call it? – vigilant alert. She'd hastily mentioned the pin after we'd heard Porter, and he felt compelled to remove the evidence.”
Linda looked perturbed.
“That formally sealed that sibling bond, didn't it?” Rey asked flatly.
“To a point. She told me a little later he'd demanded an explanation of everything she'd gotten herself involved in. After she obliged, he instructed her to go to the police and plead insanity. He'd pledged to stand by her side every step of the way.”
“That must have gone over like a swarm of locusts,” Rey snorted.
Linda leaned back with a furrowed brow. “We know the answer, but let's ask anyway: did she chop Porter's head off?”
“She'd failed with the curare. It was possible he'd been scared enough to keep his lips forever zipped, but she couldn't risk it. So while he was in bed, she – well, it only took three whacks she claimed.” May-Lee sighed, appearing both resigned and dejected. “The woman was embarking on a serious murder spree and showing no signs of letting up… . If anything, she was becoming more self-assured with each killing. I could envision her lopping off the heads of everyone here, including me.”
“So you had no choice but to comply.” Rey's expression and tone were as acidic as apple cider vinegar.
The shopkeeper sipped more soda, her expression genuinely remorseful.
“Then she moved on to her own brother,” Linda prompted.
“Actually, I did. It was payback time.” May-Lee offered a regretful smile. “And to be honest, it was rather hard not to get caught up in the killing frenzy – it almost seemed like, well, sport.”
Stunned, I glanced at my comrades. Rey looked surprised while Linda appeared stoic. “Was this payback for being spurned all those years ago?” I asked.
“It was payback for Prunella having interfered those many years ago … for Prunella going killer-crazy… . For Percival being a colossal idiot.”
Rey eyed her skeptically. “She didn't want to do you in to retaliate?”
“I have no doubt she'd loved to have blown a dart my way, but we had a bond, remember?” May-Lee smirked. “She needed me, loathe as she was to admit it.”
“Who hit Jilly's boyfriend and Officer Budd upstairs?”
“Prunella, of course.”
Rey gave a go-ahead sign.
She looked at Linda. “It's been on my mind to ask, but with the ongoing excitement, I've never had the opportunity: you're part of the Smith family, the ones who originally owned this place?”
Linda studied May-Lee's expression, a cross between curiosity and challenge. “It's not a major secret.”
The business owner gestured Rey. “It seems a bit strange that you end up being friends with Reynalda Fonne-Werde, whose aunt happens to own the very estate your great, great relatives did.”
Rey and I regarded the scriptwriting assistant with astonishment. Why had we not considered how the two had ended up steadfast friends, given the familial connection?
Linda crossed both arms, drew a deep breath, and stared into a corner. Finally, she spoke. “My brother, sister and I had heard the family history when we were young. Mom had only revealed some of it and the rest was relayed by cousins she'd kept in contact with over the years – ones that, like us, weren't rich or successful.”
“Your mother must have been very resentful. Surely the cousins were as well?” May-Lee asked with a sympathetic smile.
“I suspect she may have been – a little. The cousins? That's hard to say… . It wasn't easy raising three kids as a single mom. Dad died when I was four. That no one from the Smith family reached out financially may have soured Mom a bit, but I don't know that for a fact. Sometimes I caught her looking at old photos and she seemed either sad or angry, sometimes both.” She sighed softly. “Lido, Loretta and I once took a four-day Greenwich vacation. We came to check out the estate. Always curious and courageous, Lido actually got inside the grounds. He checked out the house, took photos. Nothing happened while he was doing so, fortunately. Anyway, we returned to town, talked about what happened and what might have been, and that was that.”
“You knew Rey was related to Aunt Mat and you made friends with her on purpose?” I asked, unable to fathom Linda as the calculating sort.
“Yes and no… . Not really.”
The three of us waited for her to expound.
“Several years ago, I'd read Rey's bio in a magazine featuring the cast of that show that bombed big-time: Frolic and Flings in Fresno. I was curious to meet someone related to the Moones so I went to the studio. Oddly enough, I managed to walk into a job when an insensitive director fired his production assistant as I was standing nearby. He grabbed me, asked me if I could fetch coffee and handle mega egos. I managed to squeak 'yes' and was hired on the spot. I officially met Rey at a company barbecue a month later.”
“Yeah, you were eating ribs on the far side of the pool. You were staring at me as you were sucking on the bones like you'd been stuck on Gilligan's Island for a month,” Rey snickered.
“At least I didn't look like I'd been licking clean bowls and platters. Those globs of sauce –”
“Hey, I did not –”
“You sure –”
“Ladies, there'll be time to reminisce later.” May-Lee raised the Webley, looked beyond us, and grinned. “I see you're not sleeping the evening away. You didn't touch the tea I left on the nightstand. Tsk.”
A strained-looking Aunt Mat stood at the drawing room entrance. A glazed gaze traveled from one face to the next before fixing on May-Lee. “I did take a few sips. Poisoned?”
“Tranquilized.”
She nodded and drew a hand-knitted Fair Isle cardigan tightly around her.
May-Lee waved the gun. “Do join us.”
Aunt Mat bowed her head and strolled across the room, and sat on the armchair alongside Rey. “What have I missed?”
“Prunella killed everyone except Percival,” Linda explained. “May-Lee was in a payback frame of mind and took care of her ex.”
She smiled dryly. “This promises to be much more entertaining than any of my murder mystery weekends… . Although with mine, people do walk away and return for more.”
“Spontaneity has its merit.”
Aunt Mat rubbed her face slowly and leaned back. “Is it possible that Prunella arranged for Reggie's death?”
We turned to our hostess with the mostest (not).
“Anything is possible, of course, but she's never confided that. I do recall her mentioning something about him having contacted a private investigator, and she'd seemed concerned. But it was only in passing and she never brought it up again,” May-Lee answered.
“That Rajastoni stone figure falling on him truly was a mishap. Happenstance,” she answered. “The carpeting on the staircase was loose and when one of the renovation fellows tripped, the stone figure tumbled onto Matty's beau. It was an ugly accident.”
“You and Prunella didn't have anything to do with the 'loose' carpeting?” Rey asked distrustfully.
“We did not,” she affirmed, pulling her shoulders back. “I liked Reginald, strange and distant as he could be. He'd always been a gentleman. He was incredibly knowledgeable and always had items of interest to share. I believe Prunella was of a similar mind.”
“The woman may have been killing for decades,” Linda murmured, perturbed.
“Having known her all these years – and after all that's transpired – I wouldn't put anything past her,” May-Lee said softly. “She's complicated … complex … and crazy.”
“She's a serial killer,” Rey said bluntly. “A female one. That's a rare breed.”
“Fascinating,” Aunt Mat whispered.
“Eerie,” Linda murmured.
“Very,” May-Lee agreed, and we all stared. “Well, it is eerie. I killed out of necessity, not desire or fun like Prunella.”
Aunt Mat asked, “And what was Percival?”
“A need for vengeance.”
Rey, Linda and I looked at one another and agreed simultaneously, “Necessity.”
“That makes it all peachy-keen,” Aunt Mat snapped.
“This'll sound like a corny B-movie line,” Rey stated, “but they will catch you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Wow, now that's confidence.”
“That's luck, Reynalda. For the last few years of my life, nothing's gone wrong. It's as if I've had an angel sitting on my shoulder –”
“I wouldn't call it an angel,” Aunt Mat sniffed.
“Fine, call it a little red, trident-tailed gremlin, but I've had incredible good fortune. Okay, I've never won the Powerball pot, but absolutely everything has always worked out in my favor.”
My aunt waved a hand dismissively.
A forgotten question popped into my head. “Who put Snakey in Thomas' bed?”
May-Lee appeared surprised. “Who else?”
“Prunella, of course,” I answered. Why had I bothered asking? “But why?”
“You tell us why,” she urged with a smug smile. “I know you have it in you to figure it out.”
I considered it and chuckled. “Because she thought he was a snake.”
“So it was a message.” Linda appeared confused. “But he was already dead, wasn't he? So what was the point?”
She shook her head. “Prunella had placed it there
early the first afternoon. Regrettably, he never had an opportunity to find it. The message was so clear. And rather clever.”
“Both of them were, yes,” I said.
“Both?” Linda appeared even more bewildered. “Both what?”
“Messages. Not only was Prunella calling Thomas a snake, she was informing him he was dead.”
Linda pursed her lips and appeared meditative. “I get the first message, not the second. A dead snake doesn't necessarily signify death. Evilness maybe, but death, no.”
“Whatever the case, maybe he'd have left the place at a rapid run if he'd actually seen it,” May-Lee shrugged.
“Or, at the very least, scampered as fast as his tubby self would allow,” I said with a dry smile.
“Hey gang, I have to use the little girl's room,” Rey announced.
Linda and I looked at her as if she were as demented as Prunella Sayers.
32
The Best is Yet to Come
May-Lee's feather-soft sigh floated across the expansive room. “Linda, you've been elected group leader: please guide the way down the hall. We're all going to go, but do remember who's holding the gun. As I said, I don't want to shoot anyone, but will if necessary.”
“You can't shoot all four of us at once.”
“No, but I could get a least one of you. Who'd like to be the 'special one' to receive a .455 cartridge in the face? I believe that may hurt, never mind what it will do in the looks department.”
The four of us exchanged glances. Apparently none of us wanted to be that “special one”.
Like someone embarking on a two-week Caribbean vacation, May-Lee's face lighted up and she smiled gaily. She motioned the double doors and we fell into single file with the shopkeeper taking up the flank.
“Do you enjoy killing?” Rey asked over her shoulder, curious. “Do you hear voices in your head?”
“No, Reynalda, I do not hear voices. Prunella, on the other hand, most certainly does.”
“I'd bet dollars to donuts on that,” Linda exlaimed.
May-Lee signaled Rey to open the thick, oak-veneer bathroom door. She complied and froze when we started to follow.
