A Most Curious Murder (19 page)

“Aaron’s lawyer didn’t really have to tell me anything,” Penelope said from her corner of the booth after digging into a small bowl of salad and drinking down her hot water and lemon. She sat back, her neck a stone column, hair like a wig plopped on her head and left uncombed. “But he figured since Aaron Cane was dead, there were no client privileges left. And anyway, he said he’d never dealt with him before getting that letter about an appointment.”

They were huddled around a table set with a vase of fainting red tulips. Zoe kept trying to make the tulips stand up while Jenny and Tony went over and over the menu.

There were people Jenny knew at other tables. Mostly Dora’s friends. Jenny spotted Millie Sheraton, whose daughter had needed a fairy tale book—she raised a hand and waved. There was Vera Wattles, a widowed neighbor on Elderberry who had a passion for romance novels; Pastor Everett Senise from the United Baptist Church, who loved a good mystery; and Priscilla Manus, who, as the president of the Bear Falls Historical Society, was always on the lookout for histories other than her own—be they historical romance or a history of a great war.

None of them came over to talk, which Jenny found odd with this voluble group.

Delaware came to take their orders and smiled appreciatively when Tony and Jenny ordered rare steak and fries. Delaware took Zoe’s order for a burger, then leaned down close to say something in Zoe’s ear. Delaware nodded her head fiercely, then looked up at the ceiling before she went off toward the kitchen.

“What’d Delaware say that was so important the rest of us couldn’t hear?” Jenny leaned close to ask.

Zoe made a face. “Just said she doesn’t believe a word of what folks are saying about me. Which only makes me wonder what the devil they are saying.”

“She meant to be nice,” Tony said. “This’ll be over soon.”

“Hope I’m still walking the streets when it is.”

Penelope cleared her throat. “Are any of you interested in what I learned from the attorney?”

They looked guilty. The meeting had a purpose to it. Penelope had taken the letter from the Traverse City attorney, Justin Princely, and promised to follow up.

“Sorry. What did Justin say about Aaron Cane?” Tony leaned in close.

“Just that he wasn’t really his attorney. He had a problem that he wanted to discuss, is what he wrote to Justin. And Justin—as you saw—wrote back to confirm the appointment Aaron wanted.”

“Did he keep it?” Zoe asked.

Penelope nodded. “Aaron showed up right on time, but it seemed he’d changed his mind about whatever it was he came for. Justin said Aaron got more and more nervous as they talked until he was about ready to jump out of his chair.”

Zoe was disappointed. “But Aaron must have said something—”

“He did. He did. He kept saying, ‘I don’t want this to trouble Abigail. I don’t want Abigail troubled over this.’”

“Justin said that when he tried to pin Aaron down, he wouldn’t give him any explanation. Finally, he handed him the letter—same one we’ve got. Justin read it and said it looked like blackmail to him. Justin said to take it to the police, but Aaron refused. Said he didn’t need trouble like that. Just as long as Abigail was all right.

“Justin asked him if he was a wealthy man, and Aaron Cane shook his head and said, ‘Nope. All I’ve got is my social security and that’s all I need.’”

Zoe was sitting on the edge of her seat but had to sit back when their food came. They went through the “Pass the mustard and ketchup, please” and “Is this your knife or mine?” and other such dinner trivialities until Zoe gave a huge groan and demanded to know what else Aaron said to the attorney.

“What was the purpose of the whole thing?” she asked.

Penelope shrugged. “Who knows?” She looked across the table, snaked her arm around her dish, snapped up one of Jenny’s French fries, and popped it into her mouth. “Zoe said Abigail is coming to your house tonight. I’d like to be there. Maybe we can get this blackmail business cleared up. I’ve been asking around town and everybody who would talk to me seems to think Abigail’s been heartless with her brothers. She got all the money and wouldn’t share it. Doesn’t sound that way, though. From what Aaron said to Justin, he was protective of her.”

Penelope reached out again and took two more French fries this time, eating them slowly, one by one.

“I don’t see why you can’t be there.” Jenny eyed her. “We’re all working to clear Zoe. I’m sure Abigail wants to find the truth as much as we do.”

Penelope’s hand started to slide across the table one more time when Jenny tapped it with her fork.

“If you’re hungry, I’ll order you your own fries,” Jenny snapped at her.

“No thank you.” Penelope sat back, looking over Jenny’s head. “I don’t eat much. That’s why I’m so thin. You should try it.”

“You better not be charging me for these dinners,” Jenny sniped back at her.

Tony and Zoe looked as if they were about to burst into laughter.

Penelope ignored them all. “I’d like to meet this Abigail, make up my own mind about the woman.”

She reached into her purse and drew out copies of the two letters. “She’s got to know something about these. After all, the writer speaks of ‘you three’ and ‘what he did’ and being ‘cheated’ out of something. Must be the father they’re talking about, don’t you think? Who else could they be covering for? When you’ve got old money like the Canes, there are always secrets and vicious hatreds buried somewhere near the roots of the family tree. Maybe Abigail will tell us what it’s all about tonight.”

The bell over the door tinkled. Two couples Jenny knew slightly walked in and stood looking around for a table. One of the women saw Jenny. Jenny waved, but the woman turned away, putting her head down and speaking to the other three. One by one they looked over at Jenny’s table. None of them waved. One of the men made a face and nudged the other guy.

Delaware hurried out from the kitchen, stopping at the cash register counter to pick up four menus, then scurried to the waiting people. Jenny couldn’t help but watch, having an idea what was coming. In a minute, one of the men nodded in the
direction of the booth where Jenny and her friends sat. The two couples turned and left the restaurant.

Delaware stood where she was, her back to them. She set the menus carefully beside the register. She glanced over at Jenny, who still watched. Delaware shook her head almost angrily and went off to check on another table.

“That was about me,” Zoe said. “Guess people don’t like to eat with killers.”

“Don’t be silly.” Jenny turned offended eyes on Zoe. “Everything’s not always about you, you know.”

They got brittle with each other. All of them on edge. The couples, who’d smugly judged Zoe, left a trail of toxins behind them.

They settled for coffee, no dessert, and then sat without talking, glancing at each other from time to time and frowning or wincing or just pretending not to see each other.

Finally Jenny, unable to tolerate the silence, looked over at Zoe. “Weren’t you going to tell Penelope about the key and the box?”

Penelope arched back to look at Zoe. “Key and a box? What’d you get me in, some pirate show?”

Zoe told her how she got the key. Tony showed her the key and the type of box it went to on his cell phone. Again she leaned back and looked from one to the other, skeptical, until Zoe told her the story and how they were almost sure the key and the box were at the heart of what happened to the Canes. Penelope looked at Tony. “You going to keep on it?” she asked, and he said that’s exactly what he was doing.

She sipped at her lemon water and looked over the cup, first at Zoe and then at Jenny. “Think we should go a little deeper here.” She sniffed as she spoke.

“Deeper? Into what?” Tony asked.

“Into murder. I thought we might have a serious conversation about the subject.”

“Like what?” Jenny asked, although she made it clear she’d lost interest.

Penelope moved around on the hard bench. “Well, most murders happen because of money.”

“Don’t forget jealousy. Or insanity. Or sex. Or a couple of other things that don’t count here,” Tony said.

“Rule out sex.” Zoe dabbed daintily at her mouth with a paper napkin.

“That leaves jealousy or insanity. But I’m betting on money. Abigail’s got it. The brothers didn’t,” Penelope said.

“Or it could be one of those ‘other things.’” Jenny glanced down at her watch. Time for her to get going home.

“Big help,” Zoe groused and kept her head turned from the others.

Penelope smirked. “Well, at least I’ve whittled the causes down.”

There was silence as everybody thought about the reasons one human being murders another.

“Don’t you want to order more hot water and lemon?” Jenny frowned maliciously at Penelope.

Penelope turned cold eyes on her. “Is that meant to be funny?”

“Hmm. ‘Even a cat may question a queen.’” Jenny was tired and felt like being ornery.

“That’s not right,” Zoe argued. “It’s ‘Even a cat may look at a king.’”

“But Penelope’s not a king,” Jenny said, pleased with herself.

“And you’re not a cat,” Penelope argued back, the pair of them into deep and nervous disagreement over nothing.

“Can we stop now?” Jenny felt as if she was trapped at a very strange party. Very strange indeed.

“I’ve been to see your police chief.” Penelope got loud enough to shut the others out. “Seems he’s changing his mind a bit.”

“Is that a good thing?” Zoe asked quietly, almost as if afraid to hope.

“I think so. He’s finally coming to his senses. He said he’s got a new suspect. The man, I understand, who destroyed your mom’s library.”

“Not Johnny. Johnny wouldn’t hurt—” Jenny stopped herself abruptly.

Penelope turned toward her. “Zoe is my client.” Her words came quick and clipped. “Whatever helps her, I’m taking a look at, Jenny. I welcomed the news, myself. I hope we’re not running into divided loyalties here.”

Tony stared hard at his knuckles.

Penelope waited, eyes trained on Jenny.

“What time’s Abigail coming?” she asked when Jenny didn’t answer her other question.

“Eight o’clock.” Jenny, face burning, checked her watch. “I’d better get back, in case she’s early.”

“From what I’ve heard of the woman, she won’t be early, or late, she’ll be right on time. Who else will be there when you talk to her?”

“Just me and Mom.”

“Not Zoe?”

“If she wants.” Jenny glanced over at her.

Zoe shook her head, saying nothing.

“So maybe just you and me.” Penelope’s eyebrows rose pretty high. “Think she’ll bring that Alfred Rudkers with her? You know I checked him out. I can’t find where he’s licensed to practice in Michigan. Could be I spelled his name wrong. I’ll look deeper. Something about that man I dislike.”

“She didn’t mention bringing him. Not even her secretary. Seemed she felt a need to get away from both.”

“You’d think he’d want to be there. From what I saw of him at the funeral, he seems very attentive. Must be on retainer. A pretty high one. Honestly, I can’t imagine he’d want her running around spilling family secrets to just anybody.”

“You mean like me?” Jenny said.

“No, I mean like anybody. I tried to make an appointment to see her. That secretary of hers wouldn’t put me through. I’m eager to hear what she’s got to tell you. She could be a witness for our side, in case we need one.”

“Witness!” Zoe sat up straight. “For what?”

“Trial. In case Ed changes his mind again and comes after you. He does have some strong circumstantial evidence, you know. We have to be prepared.”

Zoe fell back in her seat, her face pale. “I thought you said . . .”

Jenny pushed her plate away and reached for her bill. “I’ve got to get going.”

“I’ll drive you.” Penelope laid her twenty-dollar bill beside her plate and pushed at Tony to let her out.

“Zoe and I came with Tony,” Jenny objected.

Penelope turned to Tony. “Would you take Zoe home? I don’t think she should be with us if Abigail’s there already.” Tony agreed, but only after checking Jenny’s face.

“And I don’t want you there when Abigail arrives. I want some time with her first,” Jenny said.

Penelope shrugged. “We don’t always get want we want, do we, Jenny?”

Jenny fumed, knowing she’d been outmaneuvered.

She drove home with Penelope, the girl who’d peed her pants in third grade. She almost laughed, thinking how far they’d both come to sit together now.

“Ronald called this morning. I forgot to tell you.” Dora filled the teakettle at the sink.

Jenny looked over her shoulder at Dora, dressed in her best pantsuit, hair freshly cut and curled. Penny sat across from her, rejecting coffee and requesting hot tea.

“Beauty parlor?” Jenny gestured toward Dora’s hair.

“I wasn’t going to let Abigail Cane catch me looking frumpy. I’ll bring in the cookies and tea when she gets here and then go someplace else so you three can talk.” Dora hesitated. “Did you hear what I said? Ronald called.”

Jenny’s smile came out as a grimace.

Penny raised her eyebrows. “Ex?” she whispered toward Jenny. “Want me to talk to him for you?”

Jenny shook her head. “What’d he want?”

“Goodness, Jenny. He’s your husband. Said to tell you to call him back when you can manage it. He left a number. I tried to talk to him. I mean, it’s been a while, you know. Guess he was in a hurry. Cut me short . . .”

“You know what he’s like.” Jenny truly was sorry, especially sorry that Mom had to talk to him at all. She’d have to
break down and tell her about the divorce soon. “Not much I can do.”

“Oh, I know that. I’ve been telling myself what a lucky woman I am.” Dora smiled and reached out to touch Jenny’s cheek.

“Lucky?”

“Lucky that his child will never be my grandchild.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny thought she knew what was coming.

“To tell the truth, I never liked Ronald much, dear. Not half good enough for you. You don’t have to worry. I know about the divorce. Now don’t look like that! No big secret anyway, and I say what you should be doing is thanking that woman for stealing him away from you. It’s like finding a brand-new TV out by the garbage. Attractive thing to take until you get it home and plug it in. Doesn’t work. Doesn’t do anything. Can’t trust it when a good game show’s on. That’s him. Not much of a friend.”

Jenny, relieved, laughed. “How long have you known?”

“Your sister mentioned it.”

“I swear that Lisa’s got the biggest mouth.”

“Lisa doesn’t have a big mouth. She’s got a big heart and you should thank her. Not telling would have come too close to not caring. Someday you will be a mother and you’ll understand that every mother wants to help when her child is suffering.”

Dora hugged her daughter. “Mistakes don’t have to be wounds, Jenny. A mistake can sometimes be the best thing that can happen to a person. Just imagine if you’d married Johnny Arlen? Now that’s a mistake for you. Poor Angel got her wish. Broke the two of you up. She’s on child number three—with a damaged husband.” Dora looked sad, downward wrinkles at the edges of her mouth.

She pushed Jenny’s long hair away from her face and patted it into place. “Now I’ve set out my best cups for Abigail. We’ll show her that Westons are every bit as good as Canes. Wait until you taste the walnut cookies I made this morning. Don’t care who she is; Abigail’s never tasted anything like them.” She meant the last for both Jenny and Penny. The women smiled and agreed they might as well taste one of those cookies ahead of time. Just making sure they were as good as Dora claimed.

***

Eight o’clock came and went. The women moved to the living room with little left to talk about.

Eight thirty.

No phone call.

Nothing.

“What happened to her?” Penelope was very close to anger.

At nine Dora put her extra teacup away. She poured the last of the fancy Earl Grey down the sink and rinsed out the pretty, fluted pot with rosebuds on it.

At nine thirty-five, Dora asked Jenny if she should call and ask Zoe to stay the night. “I know she’ll be eager to hear what happened with Abigail and surprised she never showed up. But that burglary disturbed her. I could tell. She’s been upset all day. Don’t you think it would be best to have both of them here for the night?”

“‘Both of them’?” Penelope stood to leave, mistaking the phrase for Zoe and her.

“Why, Zoe and Fida, of course.” Dora’s cool answer signaled that she’d come close to Jenny’s opinion of Zoe’s attorney.

Penelope sat back down. “I think I’ll wait then. I’d like to talk to her. I might have bullied her—”

“Might?” Jenny asked. “And after what those awful people did, right there in the diner . . .”

Dora went to call and came back to say Zoe and Fida were on their way. “She seemed relieved that I called. That little woman can seem more alone than any person should ever be. For all her talent . . .”

Jenny, disappointed that Abigail hadn’t shown up, still half-expected a sturdy knock at the outside door. She had so many questions for her. Odd that a woman like Abigail hadn’t kept her word. It couldn’t be because she forgot. Who would forget the deaths of two brothers?

Jenny was in the kitchen—anywhere to get away from Penelope. She supposed she should call Ronald back. He’d probably had a change of heart and wanted to weasel her down on the alimony. Charity or Sybil or whoever was probably higher maintenance than Ronald had imagined. He didn’t have imagination enough to think that Jenny might not give a rat’s behind about his problems anymore.

Still . . .

He didn’t answer his phone and she didn’t leave a message. After all, the worst thing that could happen was that he
would
return her call. She went back to sit across from Penelope in the living room, vowing not to say a single word to the woman.

***

The screaming came from somewhere outside the house. Jenny heard but didn’t move. She told herself it wasn’t more trouble for them, only teenagers giving a party in one of the houses along the street. Or a drunk . . .

It came again. The voice was familiar. Still, she waited.

Dora rushed in breathlessly, stopping under the arch leading back to her bedroom. “Didn’t you hear that?” she demanded
first of Jenny and then of Penelope, who sat at the edge of her chair, blinking fast and seeming to be holding her breath.

Another high yell, this time for help. A dog yipped again and again.

“What on earth . . . ?”

They ran to the porch. Dora snapped on the light. A few yards in front of them, a figure was bent over: It was Zoe. She yelled out, “Call an ambulance. She’s been hurt.”

“It’s Abigail,” Zoe screamed even louder. “I fell over her. Oh, go call for help! Get some towels for the blood. Her head! Hurry!”