Murder the Tey Way: A Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mystery (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 2) (7 page)

But where could a relationship with Felicity get him?

Almost two hours later I was back in the car and heading for Old Cadfield, the big-bucks town where Rosie and Hal lived and where I’d spent the previous summer. Though I took pleasure devouring every bite of my pot roast, roasted potatoes, and salad, I was happy when Rosie cleared the table and the three of us got down to analyzing what was going on in my life.

Rosie shook her head in disbelief as I repeated the conversation I’d had with Felicity.

“I have a problem seeing her with a man like Len Lyons,” she said.

“Are you sure she’s not pulling your leg?” Hal asked. “Maybe their relationship was all in her head.”

“I’m skeptical but parts of it rang true.” I nodded to his offer to refill my wine glass. “She believes Len loved her and they were a couple. I’ll check out her story as best I can.”

Rosie grinned. “You have to tell Brian Donovan what she told you.”

“Of course I will, though it doesn’t explain what Len was doing in my backyard.”

“Maybe he asked Felicity to meet him there—close to her house but with little chance that Corinne would see them,” Hal said. “It figures, since he wanted to tell her something.”

“And she killed him?” I stared at him incredulously. “Felicity’s fragile and has the mind of a child.”

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Children kill.”

“But she loved the guy,” I protested.

My best friends exchanged knowing glances.

“Tell Brian everything she said,” Rosie advised.

“Do that,” Hal seconded.

“I said I would!” I snapped, annoyed by their hovering. “Then maybe he’ll stop questioning me about Gayle.”

“Any word from her?” Rosie asked.

“Not since the other evening,” I said.

“The poor kid’s on the run,” Hal said. “She’s too afraid to ask the police to protect her for fear they’ll turn on her.”

“Or charge her for two murders,” I pointed out.

My hosts exchanged another glance. This one made me angry.

“My sister’s a flake, but she didn’t kill anyone!”

“Of course she didn’t!”  Rosie murmured.

She and Hal made soothing noises, but I was still miffed when I left for home after downing some of Rosie’s apple pie and ice cream and two cups of coffee. My sister
didn’t
murder her boyfriend or Len Lyons, and I’d  prove it!

I drove home at a dangerously fast speed, my blood and thoughts churning. I was too agitated to settle down. As soon as I walked through the door, I called Joy. I hadn’t called her after Rosie had convinced me to include her in my sleuthing plans the other evening. It was time I brought her up to date.

“Listen,” she began before I even said hello. From her hushed tones I knew she was covering the phone with her hand. “The bimbo who Mike called the other night has her number blocked. But as soon as I get a minute, I’ll call an old buddy and track it down. As for my dumb-ass husband—”

I stopped her in mid-sentence. “I desperately need your help to solve a few murders ASAP.”

That caught her attention. “Two murders? I only know of one. Did someone else get bumped off while I was driving the kids to soccer practice?”

“Any chance you can get out for an hour?”

Joy gave a devilish laugh. “Certainly! Mike was planning to watch the ball game at Buddy’s house. I’ll tell him he has to watch the kids. Both Zack and Ruthie have a friend over. He won’t like it one bit.”

Despite my focus on proving my sister’s innocence, I couldn’t help sparing a few grams of pity for Mike. “Don’t you think you’re being hard on him?” 

“Nope.”

I made my voice sound as incredulous as I could. “You overheard half a sentence and assume he’s cheating on you?”

“Yep! That and his smug, satisfied smile.”

So much for Joy’s training to weigh evidence carefully before going after a suspect. I sighed. “All right. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes and fill you in on the way to the diner.”

Joy remained silent after I told her about Gayle’s boyfriend’s murder. We sat in the diner’s parking lot while she digested everything.

“Do you think Brian likes Gayle for Len’s murder?” I finally asked.

Joy pursed her lips. “Brian Donovan goes by the book. Without any incriminating evidence, Gayle’s in the clear.” She sent me a side-long glance. “But you have to admit it’s kind of weird how she left one murder scene and walked in on another.”

“Gayle didn’t kill anyone!” I said with more zeal than I felt. “And I have to prove it, or she might get sent back to Utah and straight into the hands of that dirty cop.”

“A worthy enough reason,” Joy said. “We’ll plan our strategy over dessert.”

The diner was busy. We had to wait a few minutes to be seated. Thank goodness, the booth was in the corner on the window side of the big room, a good distance from a noisy table of eight. I ordered coffee and a Danish. Joy ordered a banana split.

“A banana split!” I exclaimed when our middle-aged waitress left to fill our orders.

Joy grinned. “I’m making the most of my getaway.”

The busboy plopped two glasses of water down on our table.

Joy leaned over the table to whisper. “If Gayle didn’t kill Len or whatever his name is, there’s a good chance one of the book club members stabbed him. We’ll raise some provocative questions at the meeting tomorrow morning, then watch to see how everyone reacts.”

“Oh, my God!” With everything happening, I’d all but forgotten the meeting.

She burst out laughing. “Did I catch our book club facilitator unprepared?”

“Only where the food’s concerned. I’m out of coffee. I’ll buy some on the way home. And bagels and cream cheese.”

“Is everyone coming?” Joy asked.

“As far as I know.”

“Good. All suspects will be on board.”

“I’m pretty sure Len was looking into the window to get Felicity’s attention. They had a date that evening, but Felicity caved when Corinne made her go to the meeting. She didn’t want her sister to find out about her relationship with Len.”

Joy frowned. “I bet she didn’t. Corinne is one control freak. She all but tells Felicity when to go to the bathroom. On the other hand, Felicity has a screw loose. She had no business getting involved with a gonzo at least ten years older than her.”

“That is, if they really were involved and the romance wasn’t a figment of Felicity’s imagination.”

“Also a viable possibility,” Joy said.

“Felicity mentioned spending time in a hospital.”

“She did, about three years ago. It was around the time they bought the house. Corinne moved in alone and Felicity joined her a few months later. Corinne told anyone who asked that her sister was away on a trip. Her story sounded phony, so I checked it out. Turns out Felicity had been a patient at Herring House for several months.”

“The psychiatric hospital,” I mused. “I’m not surprised. She seems so fragile.”

“And naïve,” Joy added. “I’d worry about her if she were my sister.”

I shuddered as I wondered where my own sister was right now, frightened and on her own.

“It’s interesting how all the book club members knew Len Lyons,” Joy said.  “Maybe one of them killed him. The Billingses and Tim assume he robbed them after making repairs in their homes.”

I suddenly remembered. “The other night I saw Evan talking to a goliath of a man at the bowling alley.”

“What were you doing at a bowling alley?” Joy asked, amused. “I didn’t know you belonged to a bowling league.”

“I met my friend Rosie there,” I explained. “The alley’s halfway between here and her house.”

“Okay,” Joy said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll check out the Billingses’ history, along with Sadie’s, the twisted sisters’, and Tim’s.”

I laughed. “You and I are excluded.”

“Of course,” Joy said gaily. “We’re the detectives.”

The waitress arrived with our order. I sipped my coffee.

“But I’m afraid Gayle’s not excluded,” Joy said.

For a moment, I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Your sister showed up at your place for a reason, Lexie. To see the whole picture, we have to find out why.”

“I think it’s safe to say
The Daughter of Time
is a one-of-a-kind mystery,” I said, making eye contact with each of the members of the book club.

All seven of them, including the few chomping away on cream cheese-smeared bagels, nodded in agreement. Joy winked to let me know she was about to start things rolling.

Tim chuckled. “Amazing how drawing logical conclusions from old but verified reports proves Richard the Third never murdered his nephews.”

“And points a finger at Henry The Seventh,” Joy said. “Tey makes a good case that he ordered the murder of the two princes, then did away with everyone standing between himself and the throne.”

“And got away with it scot-free,” I added.

“The king had total power in those days,” Sadie mused. “He killed whomever he pleased.”

“Let’s not forget that Henry the Seventh grabbed the throne after Edward the Fourth died in battle,” Evan said.

Felicity shivered. “Murder was so common in those days. On the battlefield and at court.”

“Poison was a popular means of disposal,” Corinne commented. “Which was why rulers often had someone taste their food before eating it.”

“And the murdering goes on,” Joy said blithely. “Are you forgetting the dead body that turned up in Lexie’s backyard?”

Odd that no one had mentioned it till now. I watched them exchange glances in pairs—the Billingses, Sadie and Tim, and the Roberts sisters.

Evan was the first to speak. “No big loss,” he said. “Len Lyons was a two-bit thief! Who cares that he’s dead?”

Felicity moaned and pressed her hand to her chest.

To take the focus off her, I said, “Thief or not, he didn’t deserve to be stabbed. I’ve no idea why someone killed him in my backyard. Or what drew him to our meeting Wednesday night.”

“That was Len spying on us?” Sadie asked incredulously.

“You knew him?” I asked.

Sadie shrugged.

“I realized Len was the man I’d been chasing once he was ID’d as the homicide victim,” Joy said.

“I hate to say it, Lexie, but he was probably checking out your house because he intended to rob you,” Ted said. “Maybe that’s what he was about to do the morning he was killed.”

I shivered. “I never considered that possibility.”

Joy glared at Tim. “At least Lexie won’t have to worry about that now.”

“But I’m worried there’s a killer running loose in our neighborhood,” I said.

Heads nodded but no one offered a comment. What a fiasco! Though what did I expect, someone jumping up and admitting he or she stabbed Len Lyons for being a worthless human being?

Sadie and Marge took advantage of the lull in conversation to use the bathroom or go in the kitchen for refills. I wasn’t sure who did what because by the time they’d rejoined us, their plates piled with cookies, I’d stopped playing Miss Marple and had resumed my role of book club facilitator.

“Let’s move on to
Brat Farrar
, a totally different type of story than
The Daughter
of Time
.” I smiled. “Would you call
Brat Farrar
a mystery or a novel that includes a mystery?”

“I’d say a novel because of its depth and psychological insights,” Marge said. “We get to know the four Ashby children and their Aunt Bee. They live on an estate and raise horses in the English midlands. There’s lots in the book about that.”

Felicity clapped her hands. “I love Brat! He’s my favorite character of all!”

“Mine, too,” I agreed. I winked at her, glad she’d recovered from our earlier conversation about her deceased boyfriend. “But doesn’t it bother you that Brat comes to Latchetts, pretending to be Patrick, who disappeared or died eight years ago? He’s going to steal Latchetts from Simon, who’s expecting to inherit the estate.”

Felicity’s lip quivered, and I feared she was about to burst into tears. Corinne reached over to take her hand, but Felicity pulled it away.

“Brat’s a good person! Sometimes good people do bad things, though they don’t mean to.” Felicity ran from the room. Her sister chased after her.

“What was that all about?” Tim murmured.

For a moment I feared that another meeting was about to fall apart, when Joy grabbed the reins.

“You know how Felicity takes everything to heart. Corinne will calm her down and have her back with us in no time.” She cast me a meaningful glance.

“Let’s talk about Brat Farrar,” I said, and went into a detailed exposition of his vagabond life until he meets up with Alec Loding. “Loding is an actor and the Ashbys’ neighbor. He’s impressed by how much Brat resembles Simon, Patrick’s twin brother, and convinces him to impersonate Patrick. As the older twin, Brat will inherit Latchetts; in return, Brat will provide Loding with a bundle of cash.”

Evan gave a little laugh. “Clearly Alec doesn’t like Simon.”

“Simon’s not very likable,” Sadie said. “His only admirer is his younger sister, Jane.”

“We don’t like Simon, either,” Joy said. “We suspect he’s killed Patrick, even though he appears to have an alibi at the time his brother disappeared. Patrick’s murder is at the heart of the novel.”

Was it my imagination, or did everyone suddenly jerk to attention? I cleared my throat.

“Shortly after his parents are killed in an accident, Patrick disappears. He is thirteen years old. For much of the novel, we don’t know if he’s dead. If he’s dead, we don’t know if Simon killed him or why?”

“The why is easy,” Tim said. “The oldest surviving sibling inherits Latchetts.”

“Kind of like Henry the Seventh killing off everyone standing between him and throne,” Marge pointed out.

“Excellent point!” I beamed, pleased that the members were seeing similarities in Tey’s plots.

“Simon has an alibi,” Joy pointed out, “until Brat unravels it.”

“No one suspects Simon because he was only thirteen at the time Patrick disappeared,” Sadie said. “Most of us have difficulty acknowledging the brutal truth that children commit murder.”

Felicity crept back into the room and took her seat. Marge and Sadie reached out to pat her arm. I heard the muffled sound of a toilet being flushed. Minutes later, Corinne slipped into her chair.