Murder at the Mansion (21 page)

I
sat back on the ground and took in deep gulps of air, getting my breath back. Lily smashed the door again. I looked around for Detective Rodriguez. He was struggling to sit up, a hand to his head, by the side of the building.

“Kelly!” I recognized Scott's voice. I turned to see him, Detective Nelson, and Deputy Sheriff Stanton running toward me. The detective went to his partner, and Stanton pulled out his gun.

Scott knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Just a few scratches.”

“What's going on?” Stanton asked.

“Lily's the one who killed Sylvia.” It had gotten quiet. “She's in the carriage house with an aluminum bat.”

Stanton nodded and went to the door.

“I have it jammed,” I told him.

He bent down, removed the wedges, and said, “Lily Wilson, Deputy Sheriff Stanton here. Come out with your hands up.”

Silence.

He repeated his request.

Detective Nelson joined him. “Paramedics are on the way.”

Stanton opened the door and entered cautiously. Scott and I stood at the doorway as the men searched behind trunks and covered furniture.

I had a hunch I knew where she was. “Deputy Stanton, try the carriage.”

The men walked over to it, and I heard Stanton say, “Lily, come out with your hands in sight.”

“I'm sitting where my grandmother sat,” Lily replied. “I can almost feel her presence.”

“Lily, we've known each other for a long time. You've done some good things in the community and helped others. Don't make this difficult.”

Lily stepped out and turned to look at the carriage. She traced the coat of arms with a finger. “It was finally going to be mine, all mine, to live in the rest of my life,” she crooned. Dust covered her once-pristine black dress, and it was ripped in several places. The hat had vanished, and her hair fell in twisted strands around her shoulders.

In a swift movement, Stanton grabbed her arms, pulled them behind her back, and cuffed her.

The officers escorted her out. Scott and I stared at the demolished panel between the window and the door—jagged edges of wood like shark's teeth protruding from the frame.

“A lot of rage behind those blows,” I said. “It gave her super strength.”

“I'm glad none of them landed on you.” He paused and stared at me. “They didn't, did they? You're not keeping something from me, are you?”

“No. I was able to keep away from her.”

“I'm so glad.” He nodded his head toward the door. “Let's go.”

Outside, the paramedics were talking to a now-standing Detective Rodriguez, telling him he needed to go to the hospital to be checked out.

“I will,” he assured them. He spotted me. “Ms. Jackson, are you okay?”

“Yes. How are you?”

“Lucky,” replied one of the EMTs.

“That I am,” the detective said. “I began to get suspicious about the call. The person put me on hold. I heard a noise and turned. She got me, but not as bad as she could've.”

His partner joined him. “Nah, it was your hard head that saved you.”

Scott and I walked back together, and I told him what had happened. As we arrived at the mansion, Deputy Sheriff Stanton drove out with Lily in the back of his cruiser. Her back was ramrod straight—a proud Brandon.

“What brought you and the others up to the carriage house?” I asked.

“Detective Nelson said it was very unusual for his partner to be late. When he called him, Rodriguez didn't answer. With all that's been happening, we decided to come up and check.”

I stopped by my truck. “It's over. What a relief.”

And it meant my life could get back to my new normal.

Scott took out his phone. “I'm going to call Corrigan.”

“And I'm going home to wash up and change.”

“Okay.”

I saw Stevie and his four-legged kids in the distance walking the perimeter of a building and waved. I went over and told him the news and that Gertie was now safe. He took out his phone to call her, and I asked him to have her notify the others of the turn of events.

When I got home, I decided to go in the side door, wanting some time to myself. I walked into my place and stopped to take in the sparkling ocean, the gulls swooping by the window, uttering their distinctive cries, and the lush garden dotted with a myriad of colorful flowers. Peace settled on me like a soft cloak.

I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and found a few minute scratches where splinters had grazed the skin. My fingers were a little worse than they had been earlier after my last visit to the carriage house, and my back had some red lines. That was it. I was lucky, too.

Scott called and said Corrigan and the officers wanted to meet at three thirty in the interview room at the mansion and asked me to invite the Silver Sentinels.

I called the Professor. “It's over. We know who killed Sylvia.”

“So I heard,” he said. “We were assembling so we could come over and remove the murder investigation charts and set up for the original task you assigned us . . . if you still want us to do that.”

I'd forgotten about the boxes of newspaper clippings and photos. “Absolutely, Professor.”

Nice. That would keep my friends close by. I told him about the meeting.

“Delighted to join in. See you then,” he responded. “I'll alert the others.”

I went to the multipurpose room and found Helen making a grocery list. I filled her in on the parts of the story she didn't know. She was as relieved as the rest of us. She shared that Tommy and Allie were working in the cottage next door and would be over later.

“That is, if it's okay with you, Kelly. I don't know how you feel about them feeling free to come and go in here.”

Helen and I hadn't had much time to talk about my new status or the operation of the inn.

“I love having them here. We're a family—the Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast family.”

Helen appeared relieved. “I'm glad you feel that way. I know they really like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

I spent the afternoon reviewing office paperwork and putting finishing touches on settling into my quarters. The Sentinels came by and cleaned up their notes, all smiles and happy chatter.

At the appointed time, I drove to the mansion and parked next to Daniel's truck. People were seated around the large table. Tina and Cindy were each placing a tray of appetizers on it. I saw a pitcher of iced tea and one of water on the sideboard along with glasses. After pouring some tea, I sat next to Gertie.

Deputy Sheriff Stanton and the detectives were there. Detective Rodriguez's hand strayed to the back of his head every so often, probably to check the lump that was surely there.

Another person entered the room: Robert Johnson. I shot a glance at Corrigan, but his face showed no sign of emotion. The newcomer sat at the far end of the table.

Corrigan cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. As a result of the hard work you all put into this investigation, we have a resolution. Deputy Sheriff Stanton, Detective Nelson, Detective Rodriguez, and I have a few pieces of information you should know to bring closure . . . and I want to make you aware of a decision I've made.”

I wondered what he meant by that.

Detective Nelson shuffled some papers in front of him. “Lily's brother, the CEO Mark Benton, had no idea what Lily had done. At least that's what he says, and we have no reason to doubt him.”

“Henry said his name was Cash. Did she make a mistake?” I asked.

“No. He'd had problems with the law and decided to change his name when he moved out here,” Deputy Stanton replied.

Detective Rodriguez rubbed his neck. “We found a number of prescription bottles belonging to other people at Lily's place. Some of them were from the owners who recently died and made up the final piece of property Mr. Johnson wanted.”

Deputy Sheriff Stanton chimed in. “One was supposedly a suicide and the other an accidental overdose. We're going to check into those deaths more closely in case Lily had a hand in them.”

“We found the two boxes taken from your vehicle,” Detective Nelson said. “Lily heard you mention what you'd found. She didn't think it would impact her but figured it wouldn't hurt to try to get them just in case.”

“Sylvia's camera, purse, and necklace were there as well,” Detective Rodriguez added.

“Why was the hatpin there when I found Sylvia and then gone later?” I asked.

Deputy Sheriff Stanton said, “I can answer that one. Lily seemed proud of what she'd done, almost bragged about all she'd accomplished, and told us everything.”

I shook my head at the thought of how twisted a mind could become.

Stanton continued, “Lily had been wearing the pin that morning and realized it might implicate her. During one of the breaks in the tour, she went back and got it, using the hidden passageway. It was a gamble, but one she won.”

“Turns out Lily made good use of the sporting equipment for the guests.” Rodriguez looked at me. “That's where the bat came from as well as the croquet mallet she used on Margaret Hensley.”

“Why the attack on Gertie?” asked the Professor.

Stanton answered. “Her brother had seen her taking pictures with her phone when he was meeting with Robert Johnson. She was photographing Allie's lunch celebration, and they were in the background. He mentioned it to Lily. She was concerned it might create a problem for her plans . . . which it did, thanks to your excellent sleuthing.”

It was nice to hear the deputy give the Sentinels a compliment.

“Thank you, Billy,” Gertie said to Deputy Sheriff Bill Stanton.

Rodriguez and Nelson raised their eyebrows.

Gertie replied to their unspoken question. “Billy was in my fifth grade class.”

The men chuckled.

Corrigan slid a glass back and forth in front of himself. “About the decision I've made.” He looked at Robert Johnson. “Robert, our feud played a role in Sylvia Madison's death. If I hadn't made the pledge to never sell you a piece of property, you wouldn't have had to use deceit to try to buy this place.”

Johnson nodded. “What took place has been on my mind as well. If I hadn't tried to trick you, this wouldn't have happened.”

“You won't have reason to be tempted again,” Corrigan said. “We can deal at the table like two businessmen. If we can come to an agreement about a piece of property, you can buy it. It was silly of me anyway. As soon as I sell a place, someone can turn around and sell it to whomever they want.”

“Does that mean you're willing to reconsider about selling this place to me?”

“Perhaps. Let's let a little time pass before we go down that path.”

“How is Margaret Hensley?” asked Mary.

“She'll make a full recovery. As soon as she's well, she's returning to New York.” Corrigan smiled. “Sylvia Madison's report said Hensley was doing an outstanding job and recommended pictures be taken to use as examples for our staff website.”

“Who's going to manage Redwood Heights?” Daniel asked.

“Scott's going to stay until the regular manager returns, which will be in about three weeks.” Corrigan glanced around the room. “Anyone have any further questions?”

All heads shook in a negative response.

“I don't have a question, but I do have something to share,” I said. “The best way to do that is with a demonstration.” I spoke to Mary. “I'd like you to help me.”

“Of course, honey, just tell me what you want me to do.”

“We're going to take a walk to the far end of the room,” I replied.

As we made our way, I asked her to tell me in a quiet voice the ingredients of her brownies when we got to a certain spot. I'd let her know when. She looked puzzled but nodded in agreement.

When we got to the corner of the room, I stopped, looked back, and then shifted where we were standing about a foot so we were in line with the detectives on the other side of the room.

“Now,” I said.

She tilted her head to the side. “The recipe calls for chopped pecans, semi-sweet chocolate—”

“What the . . .” Detective Nelson's voice said in my ear.

Mary's head jerked up, and she looked around for the person who had spoken.

We walked back, and I asked Detective Nelson what he'd heard.

“Something about pecans and chocolate. What just happened?”

“Clever, Kelly,” the Professor said. “Scientific eavesdropping!”

“Oh, what fun!” Mary said. “Can you tell us about it, Professor?”

“It has to do with the elliptical ceiling and concave shape.”

We all stared at the ceiling—the revealer of secrets.

“Sound travels across it. The phenomenon has been known for centuries. It's sometimes referred to as a whispering gallery. A famous, or infamous one, as the case may be, was in the Cathedral of Girgenti in Sicily. The secrets of the confessional traveled approximately two hundred and fifty feet to a spot where even whispers were easily heard. As you can imagine, this caused great dismay on the part of those supposedly speaking in private and sharing their sins.”

I spoke to the detectives. “When I was waiting for you to interview me, I sat where you are now. I was surprised when your voices sounded like you were standing right next to me.”

“So you heard everything we said?” Rodriguez asked.