by Leena Clover
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this time,” Stan apologized. “But I need to ask you some questions. We’ll try to be quick.”
“Ask me whatever you want. I want to help in any way I can.”
“You don’t live here all the time?” Stan began.
Julie’s eyes filled up again. She swallowed and cleared her throat.
“I went away to Texas earlier this year, to college.”
Stan looked at her encouragingly.
“I didn’t want to go.”
Her face twisted into a grimace.
“Grandpa didn’t want me to go either. But Mom forced me.”
Theoretically, you can’t force an adult to do anything. But that’s not how families work. Who would know that better than I?
“You couldn’t live here all the time,” I said gently.
“Why not?” Julie asked. “This is my home. I was happy here.”
“You weren’t interested in studying further?” Stan probed.
“It’s not that,” Julie blushed. “Grandpa was ill. He was recovering from a bout of pneumonia. He’s not getting any younger, you know.”
Julie was the first family member who had seemed sentimental about the old man.
“I just wanted to postpone college,” she continued. “What difference would it have made? It’s not like I need to get a job or anything.”
I marveled at how secure she was about her future. Now we knew she was going to be flush when she turned thirty.
“Your grandpa didn’t try to stop you from going?” I asked.
“He did. He generally gets his way but Mom put her foot down this time. I don’t know why he gave in to her.”
“You must have looked forward to Christmas?” Stan smiled.
Julie bobbed her head, her gaze trained on Chorizo.
“I got here as soon as I submitted my last exam.”
“That must have been some reunion with your grandpa.”
Julie’s eyes clouded.
“He said I looked happier. College must have suited me.”
“Was it the first time you met Crystal?” I asked.
“Grandpa introduced me to her. She’s been living with us, you know.”
“What do you think about her?” Stan asked slowly.
Julie shrugged.
“She’s Grandpa’s friend, I suppose. He must have been really lonely after I went away. None of the others talk to him much, you know. Chorizo was the only one who kept him company, but he can’t talk back.”
She snuggled the cat for a minute, whispering something in her ear.
“Are you saying the rest of the family didn’t get along with your grandpa?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Julie stammered. “I mean, they were busy doing their own thing.”
“How so?”
“Uncle Noah’s fishing most of the time, Mom’s got her charities and stuff and Ryan has his band. Dad is at the plant all the time.”
“Didn’t your grandfather also go to the plant?”
“He had oversight,” Julie explained. “But he didn’t spend every day over there. Not like my Dad.”
“Did your Dad get along well with your grandpa?”
“They were like this,” Julie said, crossing her fingers. “Dad never did anything without consulting Grandpa.”
“But they didn’t see eye to eye on everything?”
“They discussed stuff a lot. But neither of them took a decision until the other agreed about it.”
“What about last night?” I reminded her. “Your grandpa was quite excited, wouldn’t you say?”
Julie smiled lightly.
“Grandpa liked to throw a fit. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“So he didn’t really care about the fake sausage?”
“He did,” Julie said. “It’s something they have been talking about for over a year. Dad wanted to bring in investors. That would bring in an influx of money but we would lose our control. Grandpa’s option required an investment on our part. They had finally come to a solution, I think.”
“What about pulling in Noah to work at the plant and inherit the business?”
Julie laughed.
“Uncle Noah couldn’t care less about Frank Foods. He can hardly tell a brat from a kielbasa.”
“Why was your grandfather hinting about expanding Noah’s role then?”
“That was just his way. He said he was keeping Dad on his toes.”
“Didn’t your Dad hate being threatened like that all the time?”
“There was no real threat, Ms. Patel.”
“What if this was about you and Ryan? Wouldn’t you be angry at your Dad for siding with Ryan?”
“Dad wasn’t too happy about it I guess,” she finally admitted.
“Is your Dad short tempered?” Stan asked. “What if he had an argument with his father and killed him in a fit of anger?”
Julie’s lip trembled and she looked down, stroking the cat furiously.
“My Dad would never do that!”
“Where were you when you heard the shot?” Stan asked.
“I was in the game room with Ryan and Uncle Noah.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
Julie paused to think.
“I think I heard Chorizo cry out, but I don’t remember if that was before or after the shot.”
I suddenly remembered the dog.
“What about the dog? Wasn’t there a dog under the dinner table last night?”
“That’s Dollar,” Julie explained. “He belongs to Daddy.”
“Where was Dollar after dinner?”
“He likes to hide under furniture. I saw him follow us out of the dining room. He could have been anywhere after that.”
I tried to remember if Dollar had been in the living room while Madam Isadora was reading our fortunes. But I didn’t recollect seeing him.
“The dog’s pretty familiar with people who live here,” Stan said, giving me a knowing look.
If the killer was one of the family, the dog would not have seen that person as a threat.
“What do you think about Noah Williams?” Stan asked.
“Uncle Noah is cool. He doesn’t interfere with anyone.”
“Ryan mentioned something about him. Do you know what I am referring to?”
Julie looked embarrassed.
“Are you talking about Mom and Uncle Noah?”
Stan nodded.
“I guess it’s true. I haven’t exactly seen them together much but I can feel it.”
“What does your Dad think about it?”
“You don’t think my Dad knows?” Julie asked in a hushed voice.
“Who would want to harm your grandfather, Miss?” Stan asked. “Do you have any idea?”
Chorizo was squirming in Julie’s lap. She picked her up and put her on the floor. Chorizo immediately went to the door and began hissing. Julie got up and opened the door. Chamberlain was lurking outside. He wasn’t quick enough.
“What do you want, Chamberlain?” she asked gently. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine, Miss,” he bowed.
I didn’t know if the old butler was listening at the door or standing guard over Julie. Stan asked her to come in and shut the door.
“Your butler’s been here a while, I take it?”
“Oh yes!” Julie brightened. “Chamberlain is almost like my other grandpa. He’s been here forever, you know, almost fifty years. He’s part of the family.”
“Did he get along well with Mr. Frank?”
“He did! He called him ‘master’ but they were almost like brothers. Grandpa trusted him more than anyone in this house.”
Stan was looking interested.
“Would you say he knew all your grandpa’s secrets?”
“Totally! If Grandpa had something to hide, Chamberlain is the one he would confide in.”
“What if Chamberlain messed up on the job?” I asked. “Would your grandpa fire him?”
Julie laughed.
“Have you seen Chamberlain? He never trips up. And he keeps the rest of the staff in line.”
“So your grandpa wouldn’t fire him for any reason?” Stan asked.
“I told you, he’s almost family. He should be retired by now but he says he’ll miss us kids too much. Chamberlain’s not going anywhere.”
Stan told Julie she could leave. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Do you suspect the butler? Really?”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Stan sighed. “It’s either one of the family, or it is the staff.”
“I think Noah was bluffing about the butler. And what was that about Mr. Frank trusting the butler?”
Stan chewed his lower lip, staring in the distance.
“What if Mr. Frank really made a new will? One he hadn’t told anyone about?”
“A secret will? You think Chamberlain knew about it?”
“It’s possible,” Stan argued.
“Who was he going to leave his fortune to? Crystal?”
“Don’t joke about her, Meera. He was whimsical and he was old. Who knows what kind of magic that girl worked on him?”
“She seems sweet.”
“Regardless, Mr. Frank could have made a new will for any number of reasons.”
“And you think someone killed him before this new will came to light?”
Stan nodded.
“We need to find out who benefits from the new will then. Or rather, who loses out in it.”
“Easier said,” Stan said glumly. “We’ll have to find it first.”
“Why don’t you ask Chamberlain about it then?”
“We haven’t made any progress at all,” Stan wailed.
“I’m ready for a break,” I told him. “Why don’t we step out for a bit? See what everyone’s up to?”
“I could use some fresh air,” Stan agreed. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”
We walked out and crossed the hall to enter a deserted living room.
Chapter 12
There was a snowball fight in progress outside. The entire Frank clan and their guests were taking advantage of the weather. It snows once or twice a year in our neck of the woods but we hardly ever see piles of snow. Last night’s blizzard had added six fresh inches on the ground.
Ryan and Crystal were making a snowman, supervised by my grandma and Sophia Frank. Tony and Julie were on opposite sides of a snow fight. They were joined by the adults. My Dad, Amanda and William Derry stood behind Julie, supplying her with fresh ammo. Teddy Junior, Noah and Henry Robinson were busy helping Tony. Madam Isadora stood a few feet away, periodically looking up at the sky and shaking her head.
The skies had darkened again, and scant rays of sunlight filtered through a gap in the clouds.
No one noticed us as we stood watching the revelers.
“Doesn’t look like they are grieving,” Stan remarked.
I looked around, trying to spot my Pappa. He was sitting on the porch, bundled up from top to bottom. Chamberlain stood behind him, smiling at the scene before us.
A snowball hit me on my ear, stunning me momentarily.
“Come and join us, Meera!” Tony yelled as he ducked behind a tree.
“No,” Julie yelled. “She’s on our side.”
Stan cracked a smile and patted his stomach.
“I would love to join them. But I’d rather go look for a snack.”
I turned my back to answer Stan and was hit in the back with a barrage of snowballs. That did it for me.
I jogged up to Tony and plunged my hands in the ground. Playing in the snow must be strenuous. I was panting a few minutes later. I called a
time-out and we all trooped over to Ryan. A long discussion ensued on how big the snowman should be. Julie ran in to get a carrot for the snowman’s nose.
“I’m feeling a bit hungry,” Amanda said. “It’s barely eleven. I doubt Mrs. Jones has lunch ready.”
“Can we get some snacks?” I asked hopefully.
If this was my home, I would have been rustling something up in the kitchen long ago.
“We have heard about your cooking skills, Meera,” Amanda smiled. “We ordered your Masala Fried Chicken from the diner once. It was heavenly.”
“Can you teach me something?” Julie asked, wide eyed.
I took her arm and walked into the house with her. I had never met their cook so I wasn’t sure if she would allow anyone else to work in her kitchen.
“What do you want to eat?” I asked Julie.
“Something spicy,” she said. “It seems perfect for the weather.”
“You sure we won’t be disturbing your cook?”
“She takes a break around this time. It will be alright.”
The cook was just stepping out of the door to go put her feet up in her room. So we had the kitchen to ourselves.
“What’s in the pantry?” I asked Julie.
She had probably never come into the kitchen before.
“I’m not sure,” she said with a frown. “We should pretty much have everything. And we have as much sausage as you want.”
“How about a cheesy dip? We can serve it with tortilla chips and toasted bread.”
Julie watched as I chopped jalapenos. I was using chorizo which has loads of paprika and garlic. The jalapeno would add some heat and freshness. We have a thriving vegetable garden at home with lots of fruit trees and vegetables. And we aren’t afraid of a little bit of chili here in the south.
Julie was right about their pantry. There was a section of cheese in the big refrigerator. It was almost like a supermarket. I selected a few blocks of cheese and asked Julie to grate them for me. The kitchen was full of spicy aromas as the sausage crisped up. I added the fresh jalapenos and the cheeses and stirred slowly. I was making a big pot, considering the amount of hungry people outside. I didn’t think anyone would say no to a snack after their sojourn in the snow.
“We’re almost done,” I said, dumping a can of chopped tomatoes into the dip.
Garnished with chopped cilantro and a squirt of lime, this was one zesty sausage dip. The Franks would be talking about this for a long time.
We transferred the dip to several bowls and added toasted baguettes and chips to the tray. There was a roar of approval as we went outside.
“Did you save some for Mrs. Jones?” Amanda asked Julie. “She can take some pointers from Meera.”
“Dinner was really good last night,” I spoke up.
I didn’t want to upstage anyone.
“Our cook’s great at what she does,” Amanda reassured me. “She’s not too adventurous though.”
“Who wants to help us finish the snowman?” Ryan asked.
Most of the older people declined. They were looking snug by the fire. I suspect they didn’t want to go out in the wet and cold again.
Julie grabbed my hand and almost dragged me out. I got caught up in her enthusiasm. Crystal was digging in the ground with a spade, a mountain of snow by her side. Ryan was filling a bucket with the snow and dumping it on a giant base. I suspected it was the lower half of the snowman.
Suddenly there was a cry and we all turned to stare at Crystal. She was pointing to something in the ground.
Ryan swore like a sailor. I was right behind him. There was no mistaking the piece of metal half embedded in the snow.
“Go call Stan Miller,” I ordered Julie.
I didn’t want to leave the spot.
“Tell him to get here right away.”
Julie ran toward the house.
“Does that look like a gun?” Ryan asked the obvious.
“Let’s wait till Stan gets here.”
Stan waddled out behind Julie and trudged through the snow toward us. He fished out a white handkerchief from his pocket. He gently pulled out the gun.
“Is that the murder weapon?” I asked.
“We will have to run tests,” Stan said, refusing to say anything definite. “That won’t happen until I
can get back to my office.”
“Where are we exactly?” I asked, looking around.
“That’s the living room,” Ryan pointed behind us. “And that’s Grandpa’s study.”
Someone could have thrown the gun out from either of the rooms.
Ryan and Crystal gave up building the snowman. They followed us into the house. Amanda had been watching us through the window. She must have brought everyone up to speed.
A pall hung over the gathering as we trooped in. The festive atmosphere of a few minutes ago had disappeared. There was a serious look on every face. Henry Robinson suddenly clapped her hands but said nothing.
Stan caught Ted Junior’s eye and beckoned him toward a corner of the room.
“Have you seen this before?” he asked Ted.
“I can’t be sure but it looks like Dad’s gun.”
“Where did he keep it, do you know?”
“Somewhere in his study, I presume,” Junior winced. “I didn’t like having it in the house. So I didn’t talk to him about it.”
“When was the last time you saw it?”
“Not in the last year or so,” Ted Junior admitted. “Why don’t you ask Chamberlain? He might know.”
Chamberlain had crept up to us. He spoke before Stan asked him anything.
“Mr. Frank bought the gun long ago for protection. But he wasn’t really good at it. A man from town came in sometimes to clean it. The master barely knew how it worked.”
“Why did he keep it in the house then?”
“I suspect it was for shock effect,” Chamberlain said gravely.
“Who else knew about it?” Stan asked.
“I guess everyone in this house knew,” Ted Junior said, running a hand through his hair.
“This is a good thing, Mr. Frank,” Stan comforted him. “This might be a crucial piece of evidence.”
“Does it have any prints on it?” Ted Junior asked, licking his lips.
They were beginning to crack from the cold. Someone needed to get him a chap stick. I observed Amanda wasn’t very thoughtful about caring for her husband.
“We won’t know until we run tests on it,” Stan told him.
Ted Junior collapsed into a chair and stared at the ground. Tony slung his arm through mine and pulled me away.
“How are you taking all this, Meera?” he asked.
Normally, Tony and I do everything together. But we had hardly had a chance to talk since yesterday. It was high time we swapped notes.
