Murder at the Mansion (11 page)

“I'm glad you were available.” Detective Nelson came up to me. “I want to talk to my partner for a few minutes, then we have some questions for you.”

“Okay.” I settled into a chair, tired, worried for Gertie, wishing this was over.

He joined Detective Rodriguez on the other side of the room.

“Do you think she did it?” Detective Nelson's voice sounded in my ear as if he were standing next to me.

Startled, I looked over and saw him on the other side of the room. What was going on?

Detective Rodriguez scratched his head. “Well, she's the only one who saw the body with the pearl present, and she found the said weapon. She could have killed the victim, removed the hatpin, and hid it. There's only her word it was there when she left.”

Was I going nuts? Was I imagining I could hear them? And . . . they were talking about me! I rolled my eyes and my glance stopped at the ceiling. A domed roof. My mind raced, trying to remember something from long-ago physics classes. Tantalizing memory bits came back to me. The sound was being carried over the concave surface. Unintential eavesdropping. Worked for me.

“Then why bring the hatpin to our attention?” Detective Nelson asked.

“It would appear to prove her story and, by finding it for us, she might think that clears her of suspicion.”

“Maybe she
is
our murderer,” the blue-eyed detective said.

What! Me?

“M
s. Jackson only returned to town day before yesterday. It does seem unlikely she's the one,” Detective Rodriguez said.

Detective Nelson picked up his notepad. “Maybe she knew the victim before coming here.”

“Possibly. Let's see what we can find out.”

As they started walking toward me, their voices faded.

Detective Rodriguez stopped in front of me. “Ms. Jackson, we have a few questions for you.”

Forty-five minutes later I was leaving out the back door. They questioned me a lot about whether or not I'd known Sylvia before coming to town. They'd also quizzed me at length about the interactions I'd had with her. I knew they wouldn't find anything to connect me to her murder because I didn't do it. Still, it was unnerving to be considered a possible murder suspect.

As I passed the garage, Stevie and his four-legged dynamic duo were getting into their RV.

He looked at me and waved. “Kelly, I have a question for you.”

I headed in his direction. “What's up?”

Jack and Jill bounded over to me, tails wagging, lips pulled back in doggie grins. Kneeling down, I responded to their enthusiastic greeting with ear rubs and hugs.

“I want to check the carriage house for bugs, but I know you're working in there. Will I disturb you?”

“No. Not at all. I'm going to take a couple of boxes back to my place. It's easier to inventory them there.”

As we were talking, Deputy Sheriff Stanton joined us. “How's your mom doing today?” he asked Stevie.

Stevie laughed. “Other than muttering about wishing she'd gotten another whack in with her cane, she's fine.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Stanton stiffened as he glanced into the motor home. “Stevie, what's that on your couch?”

“I was going to bring it over later after I gave the dogs some water.” He reached in and retrieved the object that had attracted the officer's attention.

Stevie held a diamond bracelet up in the sunlight. The diamonds' fire and brilliant multicolored sparkle almost blinded me. I'd never seen one with such large stones. I guessed the red and green flashes on the clasp were rubies and emeralds, befitting of such a piece.

He held it out to Stanton and grinned. “Jill found it. I think whoever lost it is going to be very happy.”

The deputy pulled out a latex glove and a plastic bag from his pocket. He put the glove on and carefully took the bracelet and dropped it into the baggie. Stevie frowned, and his grin disappeared.

Deputy Sheriff Stanton sealed the bag. “Do you have any idea where she got it?”

“I can take you to the general area. The dogs were searching under bushes next to the carriage house. I couldn't see them the entire time they were working.”

“Show me where you're talking about.”

“Sure.” Stevie's frown hadn't gone away. “Is there something wrong, Bill?”

“There have been some jewelry thefts here recently. This looks like one of the items.”

“Oh, wow. I didn't know, or I would've brought it over sooner.” Stevie grabbed a couple of leashes, clipped them on the dogs' collars, and closed the motor home.

We walked in silence to where the bracelet had been found.

“I'm going to go inside and choose a couple more boxes to take back with me,” I said.

Stanton looked at me. “I'd like you to stop by and see me before you leave.” He turned to Stevie. “After I look this area over, I'll come by your motor home. I have some questions for you.”

“No problem. The dogs and I were ready to take a break.” Stevie, Jack, and Jill headed back the way we had come.

I entered the cool, dim interior of the carriage house. A few sunbeams struggled through the dusty windows. Shafts of light pierced the narrow gaps between the rafters. Switching on the light by the door, I walked over to one of the stacks of boxes.

It didn't take long to decide what I wanted. The first two I opened had more papers the Sentinels could sort. I decided to only take the third one back with me for now. It was filled with tiny cloth-wrapped objects. I uncovered the first item and held up a glass figurine much like the ones I'd been inventorying. The slightly blurred details on the face and the simplicity of the form made me think this one wasn't as high quality. A quick search of the next few items showed similar traits. This would be a good one to do in the garage.

As I stepped out of the building, a raucous cawing pulled my attention to the top of a tall tree. A large raven perched on one of the branches seemed to be telling me off. I thought of the fetish sitting in my room. Grandpa had given it to me to help in my new journey. I could sure use a lot of that now.

I walked back to Redwood Heights to check in with Stanton, touch base with Hensley, and get the truck. The interview room being empty, I went to the office. The manager was leaning back in her desk chair, eyes closed. At my knock on the door frame, Hensley opened her eyes, sat up, and straightened her jacket. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders sagged.

“Yes, Kelly, how can I help you?” An unspoken sigh between each word made the question sound slow and heavy, but her professional demeanor remained in place.

“I wanted to let you know I'm headed back to the B and B with another box . . . unless there's something I can do to help you here.”

“Not right now, but thanks for asking. Michael, Scott, and I have relocated the guests to Ridley House.” She paused. “Unfortunately, another piece of jewelry disappeared. I'm getting ready to question Tina again, since she cleans the rooms where things have gone missing.”

“Stevie's dog Jill found a bracelet, and Deputy Sheriff Stanton thinks it might be one of the stolen pieces.”

Hensley bolted upright, no more limp shoulders. “What? That bug man is involved?”

My shoulders tightened. “No, he's
not
involved. Stevie's dog retrieved it.” Putting in a few points for Stevie, I said, “I'm sure the owner of the piece will be very pleased and thankful.”

Our exchange ended when Tina arrived. From the grim look on Hensley's face, things didn't bode well for her. The young woman's pale, ashen face reflected her apprehension.

I went back to the interrogation area. The detectives and Stanton were on the far side of the room questioning Stevie. I stationed myself in the chair I'd used earlier—supposedly out of earshot.

They were asking him about his whereabouts on the days the thefts had taken place. He wasn't on the premises, he said, but he had no one to corroborate his story as he'd worked alone and hadn't interacted with anyone. The palms of his hands slid down his jean-covered thighs over and over. He shook his head repeatedly as they questioned him his about interactions with Mrs. Porter and the Redwood Heights staff.

“That's all the questions I have for now,” Detective Nelson said.

The other two officers nodded.

“You don't think I stole those things, do you?” Stevie asked.

By the cold stares of the detectives and Stanton's frown, I'd say that was a strong possibility.

“As I said, that's all for now.” Detective Nelson turned away. “Don't leave the area without checking with me.”

Stevie passed me and our eyes met—his filled with fear. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow. I turned to follow him out and offer reassurance.

“Ms. Jackson,” Deputy Sheriff Stanton said, calling me back. “We have a few things we'd like to ask you.”

Reluctantly, I turned in their direction. They questioned me about my knowledge of Stevie, where he'd been working, and whether or not I'd seen him talking with any of the employees. I told them what little I knew and wished I could say more to help him.

After they were done, I walked back through the house to get the pickup and encountered Tina walking down the hallway, tears streaming down her face, her eyes puffy. She stopped when she saw me.

“Tina . . .”

“I hate that woman! I know I shouldn't say that, but I do,” she sobbed. “She thinks I'm a thief.”

“Don't worry. They'll find who did it.”

“She even asked me about the Porter woman and where I was when she was killed. It's like she's trying to pin that on me, too.”

“The police will get to the bottom of it.”

“It's a terrible thing being suspected of something you didn't do.”

She added, “And you read stories in the paper all the time about people being found innocent after spending years in jail. I read one just the other day.”

Years in jail. Uh-oh
.

I
put my hand on her forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. “Tina, they'll find out who stole the jewelry and murdered Mrs. Porter.”

“The question is when,” she replied. “Before I get arrested? I think Hensley's convinced I stole the stuff, and I'm sure she'd be happy to clean up what's been happening by putting the murder on me as well.”

“She's not doing the investigating. It's not her call.” I paused. “As best you can, put your fears in a mental box, put it aside, and trust the police to work it out. Deputy Sheriff Stanton is a fair man and not one to jump to conclusions.”

Tina took a deep breath. “Okay, Kelly. That's good advice. Worrying won't make any difference.”

“Think about the cooking classes and how much you enjoy them.”

Tina nodded and pulled a tissue from her pocket. She wiped off the black smeared mascara that had collected under her eyes from her tears. “Thanks. I better go help get the afternoon appetizers ready for Ridley House.” She gave me a grateful look and left.

Next, I needed to talk to Stevie. I walked to his RV and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Stevie asked.

“It's me, Kelly.”

He opened the door. His face was a mottled red. The dogs were leaning on his legs and looking up at him. No wagging tails.

“I wanted to check on how you're doing.”

With a slow movement, he pushed the door open wider. “Come on in.”

Stevie turned. He had a multicolored cloth band around his wispy gray ponytail. I walked up the steps behind him. His home on wheels had a brown couch on the opposite wall, a dining area with booth seating on my left, and a beige vinyl chair on my right. A vine in a macramé holder hung down in the corner of the eating area.

He pointed to the chair. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some iced tea?” His voice sounded wooden and mechanical.

“That would be nice.”

He got a glass from a dish rack and went to the small refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out some ice and a pitcher of tea. His movements reminded me of spaceship pilots in a weightless environment—calculated, methodical, deliberate.

His blotched face and almost catatonic demeanor worried me. What could I do to help him? I looked around the vehicle as I thought about it. I spied two dogs beds, one blue and one pink, with monogrammed names in fancy white letters. A cream-colored candle on the kitchen counter probably accounted for the faint, sweet smell of jasmine.

He handed me the tea and sank down on the couch, slumping back into the cushions. “Tell me I'm dreaming. It's all a nightmare. I'm going to wake up from this, and everything will be normal.” His eyes pleaded with me. “Right?”

“Stevie, I wish I could say that was the case. I do believe there will be a time when it will all seem like a bad dream, and it'll be over.”

He nodded—a weary, resigned movement. He took off his gold wire-rimmed glasses, and pulled a cloth from a drawer next to him. Slowly, methodically, he wiped the round lenses. He put the glasses in his lap and rubbed his eyes and then his face.

“The police will get it all figured out,” I said

“The attack on my mom. The woman being murdered. All this craziness. What's it about?”

“I don't know, but the Silver Sentinels are working on it as well.”

He gave a slight smile. “Mom loves being part of that group.”

I felt a shift in emotion from him. “They serve the community and accomplish a lot. They have a right to feel proud.”

He straightened his back and stretched.

“We'll get to the bottom of it,” I said.

“Thanks, Kelly. I feel a bit better.”

“Why don't you share that with your kids?”

The beagles had continued to lean on him with worried looks on their faces. Stevie patted his lap and both were on it in a nanosecond, tails wagging. He hugged them one at a time and sat back.

“Daniel told me you rescued them.”

“Yes.” He rubbed the back of Jill's ear, and she sank farther into his chest. “I'd been thinking about getting a dog. When a rescue group set up at a local park, I decided to stroll through the pens.”

I sipped my tea and was relieved to see Stevie's face regain its normal color.

“These two were together, Jill pressing against the far side of the enclosure, trembling, with Jack at her side, watchful of the milling strangers. The group wanted to adopt them out together, but Jack was very protective, and they hadn't been successful.”

“How did you manage to convince Jack to trust you?”

“I sat outside their area softly talking to them for about half an hour. Jill peeked over Jack's back. She ducked down again but looked up after another ten minutes. I decided to sing, and that did it.”

“Sing?”

“Yeah, ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone' won her over, and she came to the fence and licked my hand. Jack was right beside her, watching my every move.”

“It's great you were so patient.”

“I got into the pen and sat on the grass, and Jill crept into my lap. Jack stayed a few feet away. I was going through every folk song I knew to get him closer. Partway through ‘The Sounds of Silence' Jack decided that was his song. He wasn't ready to get in my lap, but he sat down next to me.”

“And now you're a family.”

“Yes, now we're a family. Jack sings with me now.” Stevie sang a few lines of the Simon and Garfunkel song in a soft, mellow voice. Jack tilted his head back and crooned along with him.

We laughed, and I thought about how good the happiness felt. Stevie looked and sounded like himself again. Talking about the dogs had brought him out of his dark place. I decided to keep it going. A picture on the wall of the three of them in front of the motor home with the slogan on the side caught my eye.

“How did they become professional sniffers?”

He grinned. “It started out as something fun for us to do. I'd heard about it and wanted to see if I could train them. They were superstars at it. So . . . here we are. I travel up and down the coast. Michael has me on contract to do his properties, and I get jobs as I travel. My hours are flexible, and it allows me to spend time with my mom. I love it.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of Mom, I want to get home so I'm there when she gets back.”

I finished the last of my drink and stood. “Thanks for the tea. Time for me to go, too.”

“Mom always says do what you can to solve a situation and then put it aside and get on with life.” Stevie looked at me. “This is a good time for me to do just that.”

“Good advice.”
And now I need to apply it to myself.

“Stop by any time.” He opened the door and pulled keys out of his pocket. “To the truck, Jack and Jill.”

The dogs shot out of the RV and raced to a small dusty green pickup.

“See you later,” I said and walked back to the mansion. Tina and Stevie seemed in a better place.
Now if someone could help me.

I drove the pickup to the carriage house and retrieved the box. As I reached the Redwood Cove B & B parking lot, my cell phone rang. The number identified it as Scott.

“Hi.” I was almost home.

“An emergency meeting's been called. We need you to come back to Redwood Heights now. We're in the office.”

“Okay. No problem. See you in a few.”

What had happened now? I pulled into the driveway of my place and did a U turn. I parked in front of the mansion and walked in. The three policemen, Scott, Corrigan, Daniel, and Hensley were there.

Corrigan greeted me with a quick hug. “Good to see you. Sorry we haven't had a chance to talk yet.”

I returned the light embrace. “Good to see you, too, Michael.”

“There's a chair over there.” He pointed to one next to Detective Rodriguez.

I sat and waited.

Deputy Sheriff Stanton stood and addressed the group. “As you're aware, the dead woman was not Sylvia Porter, an employee working for Preston Insurance. We've been working to find out who she was.”

Stanton looked directly at Corrigan. “Sylvia Porter was actually Mrs. Sylvia Madison. She worked for Resorts International. She worked for you, Mr. Corrigan.”