Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) (27 page)

“Mother, stop.”

“I know what I’m doing, darling.” Alexis reached for Boyd. “Young man, take hold of my hands.”

As if mesmerized, he obeyed.

Alexis lowered her voice. “On the night your ex-girlfriend was killed, I caught you spying on my daughter.”

Boyd kicked a pebble. His eyes flickered.

“Uh-uh, Boyd,” Alexis said. “Reconnect with me.” Magically, Boyd did. Whatever technique or magic Alexis was using was working. In a soothing tone, she said, “Why did you make up that story about going walking when you had an alibi?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

I flashed on Noelle’s rebuke when Boyd had shown up at The Cheese Shop. She had warned him to stop harassing her,
or else
. I said, “You lied because Noelle put a restraining order on you, didn’t she? You scared her. Did you abuse her?”

“No.” Boyd released Alexis’s hands as if he’d been singed and raised his arms in the air. “I never laid a hand on her. I swear.”

“You can swear all you want,” I said, “but it’s true. You scared her.”

“Tell the truth, Boyd,” Alexis coaxed. She didn’t reach for him again.

“I . . .” He licked his teeth. “When I drink, I have a temper. One night, I threw things around the apartment and drove my fist into a wall. That was the last straw for Noelle. I got into AA and anger management, but she wouldn’t take me back. I was good with the liquor until she died. I’ve fallen off the wagon since then, but I’m already back on track.” He gazed at Delilah. “I am. But I’m not supposed to hang around anybody for a long time.”

“You mean you’re not supposed to
stalk
someone,” Delilah muttered.

I nudged Alexis aside and, channeling her, grabbed Boyd’s hands. “Look at me, Boyd.”

Delilah said, “Mumbo jumbo.”

I ignored her and searched his eyes. His gaze didn’t waver. Tears pooled in the corners. After a long moment, I said, “You’re telling the truth.”

He nodded vigorously. “I’m a changed man.”

“Does Chief Urso know about your past, Boyd?” I asked.

“It’s not like I have a record or anything. I never violated the order.”

“You showed up here, you creep,” Delilah said. “You watched her.”

“From afar.”

Delilah strode to me and swatted my arm. “Hold on. He said Noelle told him there was a lot at stake. How would he know that unless he spoke to her?”

I kept a firm grip on Boyd’s hands and felt a tremor shimmy through his palms. “Boyd,” I said, drawing out his name. “The truth.”

“I called her once. Only once. That’s when she told me she was moving.” Boyd curled his chin into his chest like a boxer needing to protect his core. He tried to free himself from my grip, but I wouldn’t let go. “I followed her here to make sure she was going to be okay.”

I understood. Ever since they had met at the orphanage, he had assigned himself her protector.

“At The Cheese Shop, she warned me off, and I’ll admit I was upset, but then I saw Delilah and”—his eyes turned glossy with enchantment—“I fell hard.”

“For me?” Delilah squawked. “Swell.”

Back at Fromagerie Bessette, I found Rebecca at the cheese counter assembling a cheese basket for the city councilwoman.

When I sidled up to her, she begged me to tell her where I had been. I started to speak but Matthew said, “Hold it. I want to listen in.” He stopped bustling around the wine annex and joined us.

“How’s your head?” I asked.

“Sore, but my hearing seems to have improved tenfold.” He grinned. “Go on.”

I glanced at the councilwoman and the other customers. None seemed to be listening in, so I told Rebecca and Matthew about how Alexis, Delilah, and I trapped Boyd behind the diner and how he admitted his affection for—obsession with—Delilah, which established his alibi.

“When you held his hands, did you really feel hoodoo energy like Delilah’s mother?” Rebecca asked, her eyes widening in awe.

“I’m not sure what I felt. I only know that Boyd was telling the truth. And thanks to Alexis’s eyewitness account, he is innocent of killing Noelle. He watched Delilah for over two hours. He knew absolutely every move she had made.”

“Hand me a jar of that California honey, would you?” Rebecca tucked a round of Cowgirl Creamery Mt Tam cheese—a rich, earthy triple cream—into the basket in front of a box of garlic potato thins. The California-themed array already held a wedge of Vella Dry Monterey Jack and Cypress Grove Truffle Tremor—a luscious union of truffles and goat cheese—and a bottle of Silver Horse Albariño wine. With its flavors of apricots and peaches, it would complement all three cheeses.

I said, “Why the West Coast flair?”

“The councilwoman’s daughter is in town. You know the one, the actress in Los Angeles. They’re celebrating. She just got a leading role on a new murder mystery series.” As Rebecca gathered the cellophane around the basket and secured it with burgundy raffia, she said, “If Boyd is innocent, we only have four suspects.”

“More,” Matthew said, “if you include people who were bilked by Noelle’s parents and want revenge.”

“But Urso didn’t come up with any names on that front, right?” Rebecca said.

“He hasn’t gone to Cleveland yet,” I said. “He got delayed.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I’d rule them out anyway, wouldn’t you? This seems personal. The weapon, the missing journal pages.”

“The picture of the stick figure in the noose,” Matthew added.

“What stick figure?” Rebecca said.

I explained and I agreed. I believed Noelle had known her killer.

Rebecca ticked off suspects on her fingertips. “We’ve got Shelton Nelson, who had two reasons to kill her, either to hide some secret that Noelle was investigating or because of some snag in their relationship. And then there’s Harold Warfield, who might have been jealous that Noelle was hired.”

“Or he was having an affair, and Noelle had compromising photos.”

Rebecca brandished a finger. “You know, I saw him looking pretty intimate with Liberty Nelson yesterday. I hadn’t thought anything about it until now.”

I gawked. “What? Where? They’re enemies.”

“They didn’t look like it to me. Liberty was leaving the grocery store, and Harold offered to carry her bags. He walked her to her car.”

“Big deal,” I said. “They didn’t kiss or anything, did they?”

“No, but it was a public place.”

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “They’re not a couple. She’s engaged.”

“And he’s married,” Rebecca sniggered. “That doesn’t keep people apart.”

What if she was right? I remembered Liberty smirking when her father said how devoted Harold was to his wife. Maybe they acted like they hated each other to keep the secret.

“That’s a perfect scenario for murder,” Rebecca went on. “Like in that Hitchcock movie
Strangers on the Train
. You kill mine and I’ll kill yours.”

I slugged her. “You’ve been watching way too many movies. They’re corrupting you. And let’s be clear: neither Harold’s wife nor Liberty’s fiancé is dead.”

“What if Liberty’s father learned of the affair?” Rebecca persisted. “What if Noelle told him? I bet if Shelton found out that his manager and daughter were, ahem,
involved
, he might have killed Noelle to keep it all hush-hush.”

I said, “Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“To protect his reputation as well as his daughter’s.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s a little far-fetched. He’d more likely punish Harold, put Liberty on probation, and give Noelle a bonus.”

Matthew formed a T with his hands. “Time out. Let’s go back to Harold. He lied about his alibi.”

“To cover up his affair.”

“His wife lied, too,” I said. “She told me she saw Boyd walking up my driveway that night.” The encounter with Velma in the parking lot outside the pub still perplexed me. What did she know and when did she know it?

The door chimes jingled. A handful of female customers wearing matching tour tee shirts entered the shop and headed for the display of new cheese platters that had come in last week—beautiful ones that resembled stained glass. The women’s
oohs
, all in different keys, made them sound like choir members warming up.

“Don’t forget Ashley Yeats,” Rebecca continued. “He pestered Noelle, saying he knew she had a story to tell. She told him to bug off. Did that drive him to kill her? Of course, there’s Liberty Nelson, too. She might have wanted to kill the competition in order to keep her father’s affection or kill the person who knew about her affair with Harold.”

“Alleged affair,” I said.

“Alleged.” Rebecca inserted sprigs of pine beneath the raffia, fanned them out, and hooked a tiny silver bell as a final touch. “If only I could wheedle something out of Deputy O’Shea. He—”

“Hold that thought,” I said, then took the basket from her and carried it to the register where the councilwoman was waiting.

“It’s beautiful,” the councilwoman said. “I love how you take care of me.”

“We aim to please. Congratulations to your daughter.”

“Thank you, dear. How’s Matthew?” she asked as she paid. “He looks okay, but I heard he bumped his head.”

At least she hadn’t heard how the injury had occurred. Throwing a gag order at Nurse Nenette had been a stroke of genius. I had Urso to thank for that.

“He’s fine, ma’am. Though between you and me, I think he believes he is made of steel and only Kryptonite will harm him.”

“I heard that,” Matthew said. “I now have supersonic hearing.”

The councilwoman tittered. “I’m looking forward to the wine tasting later, Matthew.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Have your palate ready.”

As she exited, I rejoined Rebecca and Matthew. “Now, what did you learn from Deputy O’Shea?”

“That’s just it. Nothing.” Rebecca growled. “He slipped into the store for a small wedge of cheese while you were at the diner. I talked him into trying something new, that Somerdale Red Dragon with mustard seed, but boy, he’s tight-lipped. I’m wondering if that’s the way he kisses, too. If so, I’m not interested in him.”

“You’re tough.” I laughed.

“My, my, how you have grown up over the past few months,” Matthew said.

“Sorry, Matthew. I didn’t mean to make you blush.” Rebecca twirled her ponytail around a finger.

“You couldn’t. I have a house full of girls.”

“Wait until they’re teens,” I said.

“And wanting to talk to you about the birds and the bees,” Rebecca added.

Matthew moaned. “Back to our investigation. What do we need to do?”

“You heard U-ey at the hospital.” I grabbed a towel and mopped up the cheese counter, plucking bits of the pine bough off the wood. “We’ve been ordered to back off.”

Matthew smirked. “Yeah, like we’ll obey.”

Rebecca clapped Matthew on the shoulder. “He’s right. We’re the Snoop Club.”

“Cut that out,” I said. “If U-ey learns about your silly nickname for us, we’re doomed.”

“Shh,” Matthew said. “Look who just walked in.”

Liberty Nelson flounced toward the cheese counter with Tyanne in tow. Once again, Liberty was dressed in buttons and bows, her hair swished into a tidy twist at the nape of her neck, her makeup understated. What a transformation. She appeared the epitome of Miss Elizabeth Bennet in
Pride and Prejudice
. I think I preferred the former Liberty and her feline-style garb.

I whispered, “Why is she here? You would think she wouldn’t want to be within a thousand yards of us.”

Tyanne waved. “Hello, all.” She prodded Liberty at the arch of her back. “Go on, sugar, they don’t bite.”

No. We break into people’s homes—cellars—and have scrapes with strangers. Honestly, lately, my ability to judge when to act and when not to act was impaired. Could I chalk up my more-than-usual impetuousness to being frazzled because Jordan was out of town? How I missed him. The memory of our night together made me shiver with delight.

Liberty transferred her ecru Hermes handbag to the other arm, raised her pretty chin, and drew near. “Charlotte and Matthew, I have come to apologize.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

Matthew muttered, “She’s right.”

“I do, indeed. I am trying to mend all fences before my impending nuptials.” She turned to Tyanne for support. “Isn’t that right, Miss Tyanne?”

As Liberty looked away, Rebecca kicked my foot and whispered, “If you ask me, she’s been reading too many Jane Austen novels. She not only looks like the heroines, she’s beginning to talk like them.
Miss
Tyanne. Give me a break.”

A flurry of giggles gushed up my throat. I bit them back and said, “Hush.”

“Go on, Liberty,” Tyanne said. Obviously she was acting as more than wedding planner; she was nearly a companion therapist.

“Charlotte, I know how deeply you and your cousin cared for Noelle.” Liberty didn’t look at me. She fidgeted with the clasp on her purse. “And I know you invaded my home to find answers—answers that you simply won’t find there, I’m afraid—but I shouldn’t have called the police and reported you. I don’t want you to think I’m a bully.”

I swallowed hard. This much humility was hard to bear. “Liberty, you had every right—”

She held up a dainty hand. “Stop, Charlotte. I was in the wrong, and I want you to forgive me. To make amends, I came in to buys lots of cheese for whoever was in the shop, but my boyfriend has put the brakes on that. I need to curb my spending habits.” She glanced over her shoulder at her fiancé who stood, arms folded, on the sidewalk. Had he instigated this apology? Was there some truth to Liberty having an affair with Harold? Had the fiancé found out? Was he now keeping her on a short leash?

I said, “How about I make it up to you by giving you some cheese, and we’ll call us square.”

“No, please don’t. I do not wish to be a bother. I only want . . .” She fluttered a hand. “I want to do what is right from now on. Full disclosure.”

Itching to take advantage of her vulnerability, I said, “Okay, Liberty, in that case, could you tell me what you and your father were arguing about the day we toured the winery?”

“Arguing?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Whatever can you mean?”

Puh-leese
, as Delilah would say. I smiled. “I believe you were arguing about Noelle.”

Liberty’s face turned as red as winterberries. “Why, I never. Were you eavesdropping? How dare you. You had no right. What goes on behind closed doors is secret, do you understand me?” Her hands turned into claws. She looked like she wanted to rip my heart out.

Ha! I knew her virtuous act had been too good to be true. I pressed on. “You were talking about Noelle coming to work at the winery.”

She jammed her lips together in a thin line.

“Maybe the argument started because your father found out from Noelle that you and Harold were involved.”

“What?” she cried. “Harold and me? My father and I were not talking about—” She shook her head. “It’s none of your business.”

“Why did you telephone Noelle repeatedly and hang up?” To tell her to mind her own beeswax was my guess.

“I did no such thing.”

“Don’t bother denying it. There are phone records. Tyanne confirmed the calls were made from your telephone number.”

“I never called Noelle, not once, and that is all you need to know. We’re done here. Tyanne, cancel all orders.” With dramatic flair, Liberty pivoted on her heel and stormed out of the shop.

Tyanne sputtered, “Charlotte . . . Sugar, I don’t know what to say. Liberty’s hormones . . . Brides can be mighty emotional . . . I . . .” She tore after her charge, yelling over her shoulder to me, “Don’t cancel anything yet.”

I watched Tyanne catch up to Liberty and her fiancé on the street. Liberty’s arms flew every which way, then she pulled her cell phone from her purse and flaunted it. Hadn’t she called Noelle? Who else could have done so without Liberty having a clue? I said as much out loud.

Matthew said, “Yeah, who?”

Rebecca sniffed. “May I refresh your memory as to her supposed alibi? Liberty claimed she was reading in the room next to her father’s and heard him singing. I think she lied about that.” She swung her gaze from Matthew to me. “Oh, sure, she was pulling off a good act until you pinned her to the wall, Charlotte. If I might refer you back to the movie
Legally Blonde
. Remember how the victim’s daughter reacted when Elle grilled her on the witness stand? Her mouth puckered. Her eyes went wide. Well, Liberty did the same right now.” Rebecca stabbed her palm with her index finger. “That conversation you overheard matters to this case.”