blush.”
Peter scoffed. “The inane mutterings of some poncey Englishman might make me laugh, but I seriously doubt they would make me blush.”
I was tired of sparring with him. I was tired, period. Without another word, I shut the door behind me and walked down the hall to my room.
Before I went down to start breakfast the next morning, I called Detective Stewart from my room. Sitting in the wingback chair, I nervously traced the floral patterns of the fabric with my forefinger and practiced what I was going to say. But as soon as I heard his gravelly voice on the line, my mind went blank. Instead of a concise description of last night’s events, I blurted out, “This is Elizabeth Parker. I found a necklace.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Hello, Ms. Parker,” he finally said. “And this concerns me how, exactly?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I think it may have something to do with the murder.” I rose from my chair and walked around the room. The floor’s wood planks were cold under my bare feet, but the pacing helped my nerves.
“I see,” he said noncommittally. “Would you like to come down to the station to discuss it? I could meet you here around noon.”
I thought of the luncheon with Linnet and Jackie. I couldn’t risk missing it on the off chance that Jackie did know something. “I can’t meet you then,” I said. “How about later this afternoon? Will you be in your office then?”
“Let me see.” The sound of papers shuffling as he flipped through his calendar floated over the line. “I’m going to be out of the office most of the afternoon. Why don’t I meet you at the inn around four o’clock?”
“No. Not here. How about at the Flowering Teapot? Can you meet me there at four o’clock?”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But what is this about, Ms. Parker?”
“Last night, I found a necklace outside. It looks expensive. It was half buried in the snow. It’s engraved with the initials V.A.B. No one at the party has those initials.”
Detective Stewart coughed, or maybe he was just trying not to laugh. “Just because it doesn’t have one of the guest’s initials on it doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong to any of them. People inherit engraved jewelry and silverware all the time.”
“Then why has no one come forward to say it’s been lost?”
He did what sounded like deep-breathing exercises. Finally, he said, “What were the initials on the necklace again?”
“V.A.B.,” I said quickly, hope rising in my chest. “So you’ll check it out?”
“I’ll check it out.”
Relief swept over me. “Thank you. In the meantime, what should I do with the necklace?” My bare feet had had enough of the cold floorboards. I moved my pacing to the warm braided rug.
“Where is it now?”
“With me,” I said, reaching up and fingering the delicate pendant, which now hung around my neck. My voice dropped a notch. “Why, what do you think I should do with it? Hide it?”
“Nothing as dramatic as that, although I would avoid wearing it, of course.” I instantly dropped the pendant, wondering if the man could somehow see through the phone. “Just bring it with you this afternoon,” he continued. Through the phone line, I heard a gruff voice suddenly boom out, “Hey, Al, we got something on that tape.”
Detective Stewart said, “Hold on a sec, Paul. Ms. Parker? I’m going to have to put you on hold for a moment.” I heard a click, but I was not on hold. I could still hear everything being said. Detective Stewart spoke first. “What did you find, Paul?”
“The tape we found in Ms. Reynolds’s office is definitely a match to the tape found on the body.” Paul’s voice was hard to hear; he sounded far away from the phone. I pressed the receiver into my ear. “Do you want me to get a warrant for her arrest?”
The room spun. I clutched one of the bedposts for support and almost missed Detective Stewart’s response. “No, not yet,” he said. “I want to dig around a little more.”
The faceless Paul was evidently displeased with this. “Jesus Christ, Al! What the hell are you waiting for? We found the tape in her office! We know that Gerald was trying to push her out of her inn and we know that she’s got an assault record! She admitted that she turned off the lights. What more do we need?” Paul may have been far away from the phone, but he was now yelling so loudly that it was easy to hear his every word.
“I understand your frustration, Paul,” said Detective Stewart, “but I don’t want to rush to an arrest until I’m sure.”
“What else do you need? Her bloody footsteps leading to the body? A signed confession? If we don’t get this resolved soon there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” snapped Detective Stewart. “The mayor’s been calling me every hour for an update.”
“Then do yourself a favor and arrest Ms. Reynolds.” A door slammed. Detective Stewart angrily drummed his fingers on his desk next to the receiver. It sounded like a stampede of horses. After a long pause, there was a click and he got back on the line, seeming not to realize that I’d never been off.
“Ms. Parker?”
I took a deep breath. “My aunt did not kill Gerald Ramsey, Detective Stewart. I don’t care what evidence you have. You’re wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” His tone was angry.
So was mine. “If you found reflective tape in my aunt’s office,” I said, “then someone is trying to frame her.”
“Were you eavesdropping?” he exploded. “This is police business and you have no right—”
I cut him off. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t put me on hold!”
“You should have hung up as soon as you realized what had happened!”
“You can’t be serious.”
He swore. I ignored him and continued. “You’re wrong, Detective Stewart. My aunt is innocent.”
He sighed and said, “For your sake, Ms. Parker, I hope I am wrong. I’ll see you at four o’clock.” It was the unexpected kindness in his voice that really scared me.
Numbly, I went downstairs to start breakfast. I let my hand slide down the wide banister, taking comfort in the feel of the smooth wood against my skin. Around me the inn was quiet, and I stood for a moment on the landing hoping that the peaceful atmosphere would soothe my jumbled thoughts. Aside from Lady Catherine, I was the first one down. Under her watchful gaze, I prepped two trays of miniature blueberry muffins. I had just pulled them from the oven when Aunt Winnie came in. The change in her appearance just since last night shocked me. Lines of fatigue were etched into her face, her eyes were dull, and her movements seemed sluggish. She wasn’t even wearing her usual tailored clothes. Instead she had on faded jeans and a red sweatshirt that read SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED. I couldn’t bring myself to burden her with the knowledge that Detective Stewart thought he had new evidence against her. It would be cruel to worry her with it. I would just tell her that I was going to meet him to discuss the necklace and nothing more.
“Aunt Winnie!” I cried. “You look exhausted! Why don’t you go back to bed? I can handle breakfast.”
She yawned and poured herself a large cup of coffee. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she took a long sip and said, “I’m fine, honey. I’m just a little tired, is all. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Lady Catherine leaped up onto Aunt Winnie’s lap and nudged at her hand. Mechanically, Aunt Winnie stroked her long white fur.
“Why don’t you go back to bed and lie down for a while? Do you want me to call Jackie and Linnet and cancel?”
“No,” she said, before taking another sip. “I want to go. I have a feeling that Jackie knows something. I want to find out what it is.”
“All right, but on one condition. You go upstairs and rest. Peter and I can handle breakfast.”
I expected her to fight. Instead, she put a hand to her eyes and gently rubbed them. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly and a short nap might help. Thanks, sweetie,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know what I’d have done this weekend without you and Peter.” Still holding Lady Catherine, she stood up. She shifted the cat up over her right shoulder, picked up her coffee, and walked out.
Moments later, Peter came in. Sniffing the air appreciatively, his brown eyes quickly sought out the tray of
