Chocolate Covered Murder (6 page)

Read Chocolate Covered Murder Online

Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Chocolate Covered Murder
13.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Lucy knew that money, especially the lack of it, was a frequent bone of contention between divorced couples. She'd never seen Max's name on the lists of deadbeat dads that the paper received from time to time, but Barney had said he was worried about money that night he'd spent in the lockup. No wonder; the recession was hitting lots of people, and Max was probably no exception. But if Max suddenly had had a reduced income, it could mean that he was worth more dead than he was alive. And that, she thought, as she braked for a stop sign, was a dangerous situation to be in.
Chapter Five
T
he Queen Victoria Inn was a survivor from an earlier, more gracious time, when the wives and children of prosperous Boston and New York businessmen would spend the entire summer at the coast, enjoying the cooling breezes and languid atmosphere. Back then the rocking chairs on the front porch would be filled with gossiping matrons, fanning themselves and keeping an eye out for their children's matrimonial prospects. Those days were gone and now most of the guests could manage to get away from their high-pressure jobs for only a weekend and spent much of their vacation barking orders into cell phones or pecking away at laptop computers.
The Faircloths were different, Lucy discovered, when she met them in the inn's spacious dining room for afternoon tea on Saturday. Unlike the handful of others scattered at the cloth-covered tables, they weren't hunched over any electronic devices whatsoever. They were simply sitting and chatting and obviously enjoying each other's company.
“Hi! I'm Lucy,” she said, joining them.
Roger Faircloth immediately leaped to his feet and pulled out a chair for her. He was tall and moved easily despite his age, which Lucy guessed must be close to seventy. His abundant hair was snow white, his face was tanned, and he was beautifully dressed in gray flannel slacks, tasseled loafers, and a camel cloth blazer. His blue oxford-cloth shirt was topped with a jaunty striped bow tie.
“Thank you,” murmured Lucy as she lowered herself onto the chair Roger slid beneath her. She wasn't used to this sort of treatment and was frankly relieved when she found she'd succeeded in connecting with the moving chair.
“Allow me to introduce my wife, Helen,” he said, taking his seat and signaling to the waitress.
“I'm so pleased to meet you,” said Helen, who was every bit as good-looking as her husband. Her shoulder-length blond pageboy was streaked with gray, but her subtly made-up face exhibited only a few well-moisturized lines. She was wearing a blue twinset, which matched her eyes, a pearl necklace, and a tailored pair of slacks. A rather large diamond glittered on her finger, along with a broad gold wedding band.
“Well, I'm very grateful to you for agreeing to this interview. Tea is on me, of course,” said Lucy, eager to get that detail out of the way.
“Absolutely not,” said Roger, as the waitress, Caitlin Eldredge, appeared to request their preferences. Roger chose a hearty Lapsang souchong, but Helen and Lucy opted for Earl Grey. Moments later, Caitlin arrived with a steaming silver pot for each of them as well as a tiered silver stand containing scones, assorted cakes, and tiny sandwiches.
“Please, help yourself,” invited Helen. “A young person like you must have a hearty appetite.”
“Not so young,” replied Lucy, “and I'm trying to lose a few pounds.”
“It's a struggle, isn't it?” agreed Helen. She turned to her husband with a twinkle in her eye. “I'm afraid you're going to have to eat for both of us.”
“I'll do what I can,” he said, piling the little triangular sandwiches on his plate.
“Roger can eat as much as he wants and never gains a pound,” said Helen. “It's so unfair.”
“My husband, too,” said Lucy, opening her notebook. “I understand you're here in town looking for a house.”
“Yes,” said Roger, polishing off a salmon sandwich and reaching for another. “We definitely are. Tinker's Cove is a beautiful town and we think, no, we
know
it will suit us perfectly.”
“What prompted the move?” asked Lucy.
“Oh, we've lived in Connecticut for most of our marriage, that's over forty years.”
“Remarkable,” said Lucy.
“Not so remarkable. It's easy to stay married when you're in love,” said Roger, beaming across the table at Helen. “She's every bit as pretty as the day I married her.”
“Oh, Roger,” protested Helen, her cheeks turning pink. “You're embarrassing me.” She turned back to Lucy. “Isn't he impossible?”
“I think you're fortunate to have such a loving relationship,” said Lucy, feeling she was in danger of losing control of the interview. “So why did you leave Connecticut?”
“Oh, our house burned down,” said Helen, with a little shrug.
“That's right,” agreed Roger, buttering a scone. “Total loss.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Lucy was shocked. “That's terrible.”
“When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade,” said Helen, brightly. “We decided to look at it as an opportunity. When you've lost everything, you see, at first it's very terrible. You're shocked. The photos, the artwork, the antiques, all turned to ashes.”
“We were quite serious collectors,” said Roger. “We had an early Warhol, a Basquiat... .”
“I never liked those much, dear. It was the Wyeths I hated to lose,” said Helen.
“For me, it was the antiques. That Goddard highboy... .”
“Brown University had just made inquiries, too. They wanted to buy it.”
“Buy it!” hooted Roger. “They wanted us to leave it to them.”
“Doesn't matter now,” said Helen, with a sad smile. “It's gone.” She took a deep breath and straightened her back, taking a sip of tea. “It's all gone, but we decided not to look at it as a loss but to move on. We'd always wanted to live on the coast—I just love Maine, you see. And if I can't have a Wyeth landscape on my wall, I can have one right outside my window.”
“That's a wonderful attitude,” said Lucy. “Can you tell me how you met?”
“I was in London, modeling,” said Helen. “It was the Swinging Sixties.”
“I wasn't swinging, I was at the London School of Economics. I call it the Slogging Sixties.”
“We met on a double-decker bus,” said Helen. “The bus swerved 'round a corner and I lost my balance. I landed right in his lap!”
“Talk about luck! This beautiful girl lands in my lap. I took it as a sign that she was meant for me.” Roger finished off his scone and reached for a tiny square of chocolate cake.
“So you married and came back to the U.S. and settled in Connecticut?” asked Lucy.
“More or less,” agreed Roger.
“Any children?” asked Lucy.
Helen shook her head sadly. “It just never happened, it's my one regret.”
Roger was looking over the remaining cakes, deciding between a lemon curd tart and a mocha mini-cupcake. “I know you feel that way,” admitted Roger. “But I think—no, I know—we were spared a lot of heartache. Think of the Westons.”
Helen turned to Lucy, her blue eyes brimming over. “Their daughter was killed in a car crash.”
“And even when there aren't any tragedies, children do tend to test a marriage,” said Roger, choosing the mini-cupcake.
Helen dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “We've had good times, haven't we, Roger?”
“You betcha,” said Roger, reaching across the table and covering her small pink hand with his larger speckled one. “It's like that old song: ‘I Got You, Babe.' ”
“You certainly do,” said Helen, leaning toward him and smiling.
The two remained gazing into each other's eyes until Caitlin returned. “How's everything?” she asked.
“Just lovely,” said Helen.
“Good, I'll be back with the check,” said Caitlin.
Lucy reached for her bag. “This is on my expense account,” said Lucy. “I can't thank you enough... .”
“Nonsense.” Roger's voice was firm. “Call me old-fashioned but I couldn't let a lady pay for me. Besides, I'm the one who ate all the food!”
When Caitlin returned, Roger snatched the little plastic folder from her. “I'll just sign,” he said. “We're guests here.”
Caitlin pressed her lips together and leaned forward, whispering in Roger's ear. Suddenly Roger's face flushed beet red. “That's absurd. I never heard of anything like that. What sort of establishment is this?”
“I'm just following orders,” she said, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“I'm sure it's a misunderstanding,” said Roger, scribbling on the bill and snapping the folder shut. “Here you go. I'll take it up with the management later.”
Caitlin shook her head, refusing to take the folder. “Cash only, those were my instructions.”
“Can't you see I have guests,” protested Roger. “I'll take it up with the manager later.” He practically tossed the folder at her. “Now off you go, like a good girl.”
Caught off balance, Caitlin snatched the folder out of the air and walked off, scowling.
“I'm so sorry about that,” said Roger, turning to Lucy. “I don't know where they get their help these days.”
“From right here in town,” said Lucy, who sympathized with Caitlin's predicament and hoped she wouldn't get in trouble. “She's in my daughter's class at school.”
“Well, I'm afraid she's going to learn a hard lesson. There's no tip for that girl.”
“It wasn't her fault, Roger,” said Helen. “It's just a misunderstanding. I'm sure you can straighten it out with the manager.” She paused, beaming at him. “You always do.”
Roger turned to Lucy. “You know what they say: Behind every successful man there's a good woman. I don't know what I'd do without my Helen. I don't deserve her.”
“Of course you do, Roger. It's I who don't deserve you.”
“No, dear, you are the glue that holds us together.”
“No, Roger. You are. It's your strength. I'd be lost without you.”
“And I without you.”
Time for me to get lost, thought Lucy, feeling as if she'd eaten too many sweets. Which was funny, when you came to think of it, because all she'd had was tea. Plain tea with no sugar.
 
Back home, Lucy checked the mailbox that stood out by the road and found a couple of bills, a flyer from the hardware store, and a thick envelope like a wedding invitation. Intrigued, she opened it and found an engraved card from the Chamber of Commerce inviting her to the Hearts on Fire Ball scheduled for Valentine's weekend at the VFW hall. The part about the VFW hall was a bit discouraging, but the event was black-tie optional, which made her heart beat a little faster, imagining how handsome Bill would look in a tux. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a reason to wear anything dressier than a pair of slacks and a nice sweater.
Hurrying into the house, she debated how best to approach the subject with Bill, who declared himself allergic to neckties. A rented tux was a lot dressier than the all-purpose blue blazer he wore, most often with an open-necked shirt, when a jacket was absolutely necessary.
Lucy paused in the kitchen to slip off her boots and hang up her jacket, taking a moment to neaten up the coat rack. Why couldn't Bill and the girls manage to use the little loops for hanging that were sewn into their jackets? Instead, they tossed them on the row of hooks any old way, piling them one on top of the other until the whole mess slid off onto the floor. Catching herself in a negative train of thought, she resolved to try to think more positively, like Helen Faircloth. There was nothing she could do about winter, the weather was out of her control. She could control her thoughts, however, by concentrating on the positive aspects of the season. Like the ball.
The TV was on in the family room; Lucy could hear bursts of sound that indicated a sporting event of some kind. Maybe Bill would like a snack, she thought, popping into the powder room and applying a fresh coat of lipstick and a squirt of cologne. Thus armed, she advanced into the family room where she found her husband in his usual chair, a big old recliner, slapping his knee.
“A three-pointer,” he declared. “You shoulda seen it. Right across the court. Wait, hold on, they're replaying it.”
Trapped, Lucy perched on the sectional and watched as an abnormally tall man with many tattoos seemed to launch a basketball with an effortless flick of his wrist that sent it sailing from one end of the court to the other and right through the hoop.
“Amazing,” she said.
“And they said he wasn't worth sixty million dollars,” scoffed Bill.
“Fools,” said Lucy, thinking to herself that nobody on God's green earth deserved sixty million dollars, not when other people were hungry and homeless.
“That's the quarter,” said Bill, as a buzzer sounded.
Remembering her mission, Lucy jumped up. “Can I get you something? A beer? Would you like me to throw some popcorn in the microwave? There's a mini-pizza in the freezer I could heat up for you.”
Bill looked at her suspiciously. “Did you smash up the car?”

Other books

Finding Bliss by Dina Silver
Woods and Chalices by Tomaz Salamun
Different Paths by Judy Clemens
Boys in Control by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Midnight by Dean Koontz
Ammonite by Nicola Griffith
Beware of the Beast by Anne Mather