Murder at the Mansion (19 page)

I
knelt beside her and touched her arm. Her skin felt clammy. “Margaret, can you hear me?”

She moaned again but didn't open her eyes.

I briefly examined her wound—it didn't look deep, but there was a lot of blood. I got up, stepped out of the passageway, and punched in 911 on my phone while yelling, “Michael!”

He came running into the room. I gestured with my hand toward the passageway and handed him my flashlight as I put my phone to my ear.

“Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?”

“A woman's been injured. She has a gash on the side of her head and is unconscious. She may have been attacked.”

“What is your location?”

“Redwood Heights Mansion in Redwood Cove. The address is one hundred Redwood Drive. We're in the back of the building.”

“Will you be able to be reached at this number?”

“Yes.”

“An ambulance and the police will be dispatched.”

Ending the call, I speed-dialed Scott.

“Hi, Kelly, what's up?”

“Margaret's been hurt. I don't think it was an accident. We're at the entrance to the passageway.”

“I'm on my way. The detectives said they'd be working in the interview room. I'll swing by and get them.”

I scanned the walls for another flashlight. Extras were usually kept easily accessible in case of power failures. I found one by the door to the kitchen. It was large and could also be used as a lantern. Joining Corrigan, I sat the flashlight on end, casting a pool of light on the scene.

Margaret's pale face contrasted sharply with the bright red blood trickling down her cheek; the dried blood on the side of her head was a darker hue. I'd gotten a good look at the area earlier, but now I examined it more closely. She was on her back, a cut next to her eye, matted blood extending into her hairline. If she'd tripped and fallen, I'd expect to see a lump on her temple, maybe a cut as well, but not a gash. How had that gotten there? I raised the lantern, illuminating a wider area, and saw nothing that might have caused the wound. Whatever had been used wasn't here. Someone had taken it with them, or she'd been attacked someplace else and brought here.

Hensley had stopped moving or making any sounds.

Corrigan checked her wrist. “I feel a pulse, but it's faint.”

“Michael, I think she was struck with something.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Detectives Nelson and Rodriguez stepped into the passageway. Scott remained at the doorway.

“Scott,” Corrigan said, “bring a couple of blankets.”

“Got it,” he replied and left.

Corrigan and I stood, got out of the detectives' way, and went to the laundry room.

We looked at each other in the momentary lull.

“Michael . . .” I shook my head. “Whatever is this madness about?”

“I wish I knew.” His ruddy complexion was redder than usual. “Better yet, I wish I could get my hands on whoever is behind it.”

Scott came back with blankets, and Corrigan took them into the passageway. I told Scott what we'd seen and what we suspected. A siren wailed in the distance.

Scott put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a gentle hug. “More reason than ever for you to be careful. Michael told me about his plans and what he wants you to do. Promise you'll always have someone you can count on nearby until this is over.”

“Promise,” I replied. No more buts like the ones in my earlier conversation. The attack on me and then Hensley in the same day could mean the murderer was getting more desperate.

The siren grew louder, and Scott stepped out of the door to wave them over. The wailing stopped and two paramedics rushed in.

“She's in there,” I said, pointing to the hallway.

They went in and Corrigan came out. “I'm getting my keys so I can follow them to the hospital. Scott, I want you to escort Kelly to the B and B.”

“Shall do.”

An EMT ran by and returned with a gurney. A few minutes later, he and the other one passed by us with Margaret, and shortly thereafter the siren started up again.

Detective Rodriguez emerged, his mouth set in a firm line, corners turned downward. He questioned me about finding Margaret, and I told him what had happened.

“Did you remove anything from the scene?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone in here or nearby?”

“No.” I paused. “Do you think it was an accident?” I hoped he'd say yes, but I didn't hold my breath.

“We can't tell for sure,” Detective Rodriguez answered. “Unlikely, though, Ms. Jackson. Mr. Corrigan has asked me to spend the night at your inn for protection purposes. I'll be over later.”

“All right. Scott's going to follow me there now.”

The detective nodded and went back in the passageway. Picking up my purse, I went with Scott out the back door to where our vehicles were parked. I got in my truck and started home, with Scott behind me in the mansion's Cadillac. When we got there, we went up the back steps together. Gazing through the window, I saw Helen in the kitchen and Stevie walking by with a cup in his hand. I knew from the gold Mercedes in the parking lot the Silver Sentinels had arrived.

“I'm going to join Corrigan at the hospital,” Scott said. “Call if you need anything . . . and be careful.”

“I will.”

He gazed at me for a few moments, then started down the steps. Entering the multipurpose room, I found it alive with activity. Tommy was practicing his presentation to an enthralled audience of three dogs, Allie, and Stevie, who'd turned his chair around and rested his arms on the back of it.

Tommy pointed to a picture on his trifold board. “This is a gray whale.” Three dog tails pounded the floor. “And this is a tube worm, one of the many things they eat.” More dog claps. Allie and Stevie nodded encouragingly.

Helen was putting spoonfuls of dough on a cookie sheet. “Hi, Kelly.” She stopped, washed her hands, and came over to me. “Are you okay?” she whispered. “Mr. Corrigan asked me to set up a room for you and one for a detective, but he didn't tell me why.”

“Let's go in the study,” I said.

As we walked down the hallway, Helen said, “I put the two of you in the rooms at the head of the stairs.”

I closed the door. “I'm okay. There was an incident, and it involves the police. They've asked me not to talk about it for now.” I decided not to mention what happened to Hensley. It would only make Helen worry more.

“I'll sure be glad when this is over,” Helen said.

“That makes two of us.” I changed the subject as we headed back. “Tommy has an enthusiastic audience.”

Helen smiled. “Yes. I'm going to listen to him when he feels he's got it perfected.”

We entered the workroom.

“The Silver Sentinels are in the conference room,” Helen said. “They told me you are joining them for dinner.”

“Yes. A chance to plan our next steps.”

Helen went back to her cookies just as Daniel entered with a large pizza box.

“Oh, boy! Pizza!” Tommy's presentation came to an abrupt end.

I left them to their dinner and went to see the Sentinels. The room was filled with a delicious aroma.

Gertie stood at a large pot, ladling hot steaming soup into a bowl. “Hi, Kelly. Glad you could join us. Come over and get some minestrone soup. I made it with vegetables from my garden. I thought something healthy was in order after all the rich food we ate today.”

The others greeted me as they got their plates and soup and settled at the table. A basket of homemade wheat bread was in the center.

Joining them, I took the proffered bowl. “Smells wonderful, Gertie.”

Green beans, carrots, and numerous other vegetables mixed in with pasta shells and kidney beans swirled as I stirred the soup. I took a sip and found the ingredients provided a great combination of flavors in the rich broth.

Taking another spoonful, I said, “And it tastes as good as it smells.”

Mary presented a pie, rounding out the meal. “I decided on apple so we could be sure to have our fruit for the day.”

The Professor put a slice of bread on his plate. “Anything new in the investigation, Kelly?”

I told them what had happened and what I knew about Hensley and Robert Johnson, alias Robert James, but kept my word to Deputy Sheriff Stanton about not mentioning what had happened to me. I didn't see any way they could help with that, and it would only upset them.

“Let's review what we have so far,” I suggested. “We're proceeding on the theory the attack on Gertie and Sylvia's murder are connected because of the hatpins from the mansion, and we are searching for someone from Redwood Heights. Based on the size of the person, as best Gertie and Stevie could tell, we had five suspects: Hensley, Lily Wilson, Tina Smith, Jerry Gershwin, and Robert James.”

Rudy listed the names on a chart.

“I'd dropped Jerry off because he had an alibi, then he lost it, now he's got his alibi back.” I filled them in and received some chuckles over his Meat King title. “We can cross him off the list.”

The Professor said, “I believe Hensley should be eliminated as well. It's highly unlikely there's more than one person behind this. I think we should go with what's most feasible first. If we don't get our answers there, we can start on a new round of suspects.”

Rudy drew a red line through Hensley's name.

Gertie turned down the hot plate the soup rested on and joined us at the table. “Since Hensley's was the most recent incident, why don't we start there with our next steps?”

Mary was cutting her pie. “Oh, good idea. We could find out when was the last time someone saw her.”

“I saw lady when we go see Kelly at the event,” Ivan volunteered.

Rudy started a new chart labeled timeline. “That was about two thirty.”

“I don't remember when I last saw her,” I said. “The afternoon's a blur. But maybe some of the others working there will.”

The Professor helped himself to a piece of pie. “Two of the suspects were working there—Lily and Tina. We could ask what people remembered about their whereabouts during the event, as well as Margaret Hensley's.”

“Phil and Andy might wonder why we are asking about those two. The others already know about our suspect list. I think it's time we tell them what we know and what we're planning,” I said. “It might put a different light on what they think to tell us.”

The Sentinels nodded agreement.

“We'll be interviewing Tina and Lily,” Rudy said, “as part of our gathering information about the manager. That might give us some clues as to what they were doing.”

“I agree,” I said. “But I believe you should continue to work in pairs.”

“I'm happy to talk to Lily,” Mary said. “We've done community work together. She worked as a nurse and goes with me when I deliver food to needy members in the community and talks to them about their health.”

“I'll go with you,” Rudy said. “I've talked with Lily a couple of times at town hall meetings.”

“I can do Tina,” Gertie said. “I really enjoyed the raw food appetizers today and asked her lots of questions. We connected, and I told her she could have some vegetables from my garden.”

“I go with,” Ivan said. “We a pair on this case.”

“That leaves Michael, Andy, Phil, Daniel, and Scott who were working the event.” I paused.

“I volunteer for Phil and Andy and telling them about our suspicions,” the Professor said.

“I'll talk to Michael, Scott, and Daniel.” I pointed to the suspect list. “There are two more names we can add—the CEO, Mark Benton, and his sister, but I'd put them off to the side. I don't know their size, which is part of the criteria for our list. I'll check with Michael.”

Rudy frowned as he wrote their names. “Why would you include them? They didn't stay at the mansion.”

“No, but he and his sister would've had access to it at some point since they were going to buy it. They might've met Sylvia,” I said.

“We haven't figured out how the person got the hatpins,” Gertie said. “Lily or Tina might have found a way since they are on staff and live on site, but how would the others manage it?”

“The key appeared new,” I said, “definitely not the original that came with the cabinet. There could've been a number of duplicates made and they found a way to get one. Robert Johnson is a billionaire—he has a billion ways to influence people to give him what he wants.”

Mary piped up. “Maybe the buyers asked for keys to get a closer look at some of the items. They could've kept that one ‘accidentally' or had a copy made.”

“Excellent thought, Mary,” Gertie said.

“We don't have a motive yet for the murder or the attack on Hensley,” the Professor said. “What's driving all of this?”

I spoke up. “Robert Johnson really wants the property. You could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. If Sylvia made the connection to who he was, the deal would have been dead right then and there.”

“Had he met Sylvia?” the Professor asked.

“He said no, but obviously he's not above lying,” I said.

Gertie chimed in. “Maybe the CEO thought the money sounded better than doing his own development after all.”

Mary put her fork down. “Maybe Sylvia pushed Tina or Lily too far, and they were concerned about losing their jobs.”