Murder Most Persuasive

“I don’t think it’s him we need to convince. It’s that sergeant of his. Thankfully, Joe didn’t bring her today.”

Kit and I took our time in the kitchen, hoping to give Ann and Joe a moment alone with each other. When we finally emerged with the tray laden with the coffee, cups, cream, and sugar, Ann and Joe were quietly talking. When they saw me and Kit, they fell silent and Joe got to his feet.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He took the tray from me and actually smiled at me. Wondering what had prompted the change in his mood, I glanced at Ann, but she was staring at the floor. Her cheeks, however, appeared to be a bit rosier than they’d been minutes before.

Kit and I seated ourselves and I poured out the coffee. After everyone was served, I said, “Joe, I’m sorry about going to see Donny. It’s just that Ann didn’t like the idea of telling the police about him until she saw him first. But he’s lying, I know he is. He knew about Michael before we got there.”

Joe nodded. “Well, I appreciate the tip. Just next time—”

“Don’t let there be a next time, right?”

With a grim smile, he nodded. “Exactly.”

“The problem is,” said Kit, “that it seems there are some in your department who think that Ann might have been involved in Michael’s murder. I don’t know if you know this, but Elizabeth has helped the police in the past.” I gaped at her. Just days ago she mocked the very idea that I had provided any real assistance to the police. Now she was touting my skills.

At Joe’s inquisitive glance, I explained. “I’ve been involved in two murder investigations. Last year, a guest at my aunt’s inn was murdered, and this past fall, a guest at my friend’s wedding was murdered.”

“In both cases, Elizabeth was fundamental in helping the police solve the crimes,” Ann added loyally.

Joe glanced curiously at me before saying, “Well, obviously I’d appreciate any tips you might have, but as I said before…”

“I know, I know. Nothing but complete honesty from now on,” I said.

“Our point is,” continued Kit, “that we’d be happy to offer our services.”

I gaped at her. “Our services! What are you, my broker?”

Kit gave me a level look. “We’re family. I think we are obliged to help. Besides, I’ve always been good at finding things out, too. I can help.”

“Kit! Just because you’re a good gossip doesn’t make you a good investigator!” I snapped.

Kit’s brows pulled together and her lips pursed. She was about to say something, but Ann spoke first. “I’ll take all the help I can get. I really appreciate both of you helping me.” Turning back to Joe, Ann said, “Does your sergeant really think I killed Michael?”

“I think that she’s young and wants to impress. But Ann, why didn’t you tell me about Michael?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I thought that I could handle it. I’m not sure what I would have done if Michael hadn’t disappeared. But when he did, the problem seemed to disappear with him. Oh, what a mess I’ve made of things! What must Reggie think?” she said, putting her head in her hands.

“Ann, this wasn’t your fault.” Joe leaned forward and put his hand on hers. Color rose in her cheeks and she looked down at his hand like it was a long-lost friend. Joe continued, “How could anyone be angry with you for something Michael did? And Reggie didn’t marry him—thank God. She broke up with him before his attack on you. Who knows, maybe he was trying to get back at her. Anyway, it’s not as if you kept quiet about him and let Reggie marry the bastard. Only then could you have a legitimate regret.” Joe’s voice strained a little as the thought occurred to him of another regret Ann might—or might not— have. He pulled his hand back. Ann’s glance slid away and her cheeks grew even redder. “All I’m saying,” said Joe, “is that Reggie knew Michael was a creep. He stole from your father. Finding out about this attack on you only confirms what she already knew.”

Ann fingered the handle of her coffee cup. “I guess you’re right, Joe. I just wish it had all been different.”

“So do I,” Joe said quietly. 

Chapter 15

My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation.

—Persuasion

Joe stayed a little while longer. Kit and I busied ourselves in the kitchen as much as possible. Despite Ann’s earlier protestations that she didn’t want to be left alone with Joe, she didn’t seem to notice our frequent absences. Or if she did notice, she didn’t seem to mind.

While I was in no way eavesdropping, I did overhear a few snippets of their conversation. They talked mainly about their jobs. Ann told Joe about some of the projects she’d worked on lately, and Joe detailed some of his more interesting cases. At one point Ann responded to something Joe said with, “No, never. You?” He, too, responded with a negative. Were they discussing marriage histories?

Joe left around one o’clock with a promise to call us if he learned anything new. After that, Ann, Kit, and I decided to go into Georgetown for lunch. We headed to Martin’s Tavern, a favorite haunt of locals and tourists alike. The two-story tavern, which opened in the early 1930s, has hosted every president from Harry Truman to George W. Bush. John Kennedy used to be a regular. In fact, he proposed to Jackie in booth number three. In the main dining room, foxhunting prints and black-and-white baseball photos hang on paneled walls while Tiffany-style lamps dangle overhead.

We slid into one of the high-backed hardwood booths that afford a view of Wisconsin Avenue and studied the menu in silence. “You know,” Ann said, after we’d decided on our orders, “I was thinking. Maybe I should get in touch with Nana.”

At the mention of Nana, I looked up in surprise. Nana (aka Sara Myerson) had worked for years for Uncle Marty as a kind of housekeeper/nanny. She had been brought in to pick up Bonnie’s slack. As you might imagine, it was a full-time job. Nana kept the house organized, the kids supervised, and Marty in good humor. Not an easy task, but Nana tolerated no foolishness, and under her watch the household ran with a machinelike precision. Despite her strictness and no-nonsense manner, all of the kids adored Nana and remained close to her well after her retirement. She now lived in St. Michaels, not far from the family’s old summer house.

“Nana?” said Kit. “Why would you call her? Didn’t you just see her at Uncle Marty’s funeral?” When Ann didn’t answer right away, she peered closely at her. “Oh, I see,” she said. “You want to call her to find out about Michael.”

“But Ann,” I said, “Nana wouldn’t know anything. She wasn’t even at the Fourth of July party.”

“No, but she helped set it up,” Ann said. “And even if she wasn’t there, she always seemed to know everything that was happening. Sometimes before it happened.” With a knowing smile, she added, “She certainly busted us on numerous occasions.”

“That she did,” I agreed. “Remember the time we brought those guys back to the pool?”

Ann laughed at the memory. “That’s right! I’d almost forgotten. I don’t know what we were thinking.”

I shook my head. “When she called down to us, asking what all the noise was, you told them to duck under the water so she wouldn’t see them.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I forgot she was calling down to us from the upstairs window. Not my finest moment, I grant you.”

Beside me, Kit shifted in her seat, clearly annoyed. I felt a pang of guilt. Regardless of how irritating she could be at times, it wasn’t very nice of me to talk about past events where she hadn’t been included. I shot Ann a quelling look. She caught my meaning and quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway, all I’m saying,” said Ann, “is that maybe Nana saw something that we missed. In any case, she should talk to the police.”

Kit leaned across the table and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Or maybe she should talk to