“Well, those things are always possible, of course, but they’re not what I had in mind. I think it’s likely someone else was involved, someone who hit or pushed Willis and killed him, accidentally or otherwise. Although I’m not sure if the sheriff has come to the same conclusion yet. I’m concerned because he is speaking to Mrs. Nickens right now. Interviewing her.”
Marla Mae’s eyes popped wide open. “I thought he was talking to her, like, you know, telling her what happened, not questioning her like she was a suspect on TV.”
Lucinda took a prolonged deep breath, shook her head firmly, and said, “That can’t be right. No one could ever think Miss Dolores would . . . That’s just plain foolishness.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Knowing that Lucinda and I were on the same wavelength, I wanted to stay for a while longer, but there was Dolores to consider. “Marla Mae, would you mind going out to the foyer? And when the sheriff is, um, finished talking to Dolores, please tell her that I am in here polishing off a plate of Lucinda’s delicious scones.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” She drained her coffee cup in one long gulp and left.
The housekeeper was eyeing me shrewdly; I suspected she knew what I was after—information. Now I would find out if she was willing to share any. I took a sip of coffee, then set my mug on the table.
“Lucinda, how long have you worked for Willis and Dolores?”
“I’ve been with Mr. Willis for nearly ten years. When I first came on as his housekeeper, he lived in a little town house in Columbia. I was truly happy when he decided to marry Miss Dolores. She is such a cheerful lady, and Mr. Willis is such a . . . I guess ‘hard worker’ says it all. So little time for joy. But Miss Dolores could bring a smile to his lips. Mind you, she often had to work hard to do so, but she didn’t seem to mind.”
I laughed. “That does sound exactly like Dolores. Tell me about the others who were at dinner last night. Are they frequent guests?”
“Mr. Clancy and Miss Abby do come by, but not often enough to suit Mr. Willis. Miss Abby is the only one could make Mr. Willis smile like he smiled for Miss Dolores. He’d have her live here full-time if it was his choice.”
I’d already gotten that impression from both Dolores and Willis. I tried to hurry Lucinda along, knowing we could be interrupted at any moment once the sheriff was finished with whatever he’d come here to do. “And Norman Crayfield? What about him? As business partners, he and Willis seem wholly unsuited to each other.”
“Maybe so, but they must make a lot of money together. Mr. Willis bought this big fancy house when him and Miss Dolores were getting married, and he never so much as blinked at the price. Just paid up. So there’s that,” Lucinda said.
“And Marjory Ribault—how did she feel about the sale of her former home?”
Lucinda’s lips tightened as if to keep some words captive. “I couldn’t tell you, ma’am.”
Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I’d clearly hit a nerve, but, pressed for time, I moved on. “And what about the Blomquists? I understand they are neighbors.”
“Could call them that, I guess. They own a hotel down the road. Small one for rich people. What do they call them? Like a bouquet of flowers—I forget the word.”
“Are you thinking of ‘boutique,’ as in a boutique hotel?” I suggested.
“That’s it. That’s the word I was looking for. Anyway, they want Mr. Willis’s company to invest in their hotel so they can modernize. I heard Mr. Willis tell Mr. Crayfield that he wasn’t willing to put a cent into that derelict hunk of junk. Mr. Crayfield wanted to make the investment but Mr. Willis was a big loud no.”
I turned toward some clattering out in the hallway. Marla Mae had her arm firmly wrapped around Dolores’s waist, guiding her into the kitchen. Dolores kept sniffling into a napkin she held against her tear-streaked face. Lucinda jumped from her chair and ran water over a cloth. She wrung it out and pulled the chair next to mine away from the table.
“Here you go, Miss Dolores. Sit down, lean your head back, and press this on your eyes. There, now don’t that feel better?”
“Thank you, Lucinda, but my heart is so heavy I am not sure I would know how ‘better’ feels. Jess, my Willis is gone.”
I caressed her hand. “I know, Dolores. It will take time—”
“I don’t mean dead—I mean gone.” Dolores straightened up and pulled the cloth from her face. “While that sheriff babbled along in the library, someone came and took Willis’s body to some government place. As soon as the sheriff opened the library door, the deputy standing there told him the body had been transported somewhere or another. That’s all Willis is to any of them, ‘the body,’ and if Marla Mae wasn’t waiting in the foyer, standing close enough to grab me when I began to swoon, they might have had another body on their hands.”
There wasn’t much I could say in response. I took a final sip of my coffee, which had cooled considerably, and suggested that Dolores go to her room and rest for a while. I was relieved when she agreed. I followed along as Marla Mae took her upstairs, but I left while Marla Mae got Dolores settled into bed.
I was curious if there was any activity at the koi pond and decided to walk down the driveway to check. I’d gotten only a few feet down the driveway when I heard my name.
“Jessica! Jessica, wait.” Marjory Ribault was huffing and puffing as she hurried across the lawn. By the time she reached me, she was winded. She put her
