Murder at Midnight (5 page)

Rex couldn’t speak for all the guests, but he could tell by the expressions on one or two faces that they felt mildly let down. Painting in water colour seemed a bit undramatic for a person of such striking presence and personality, whom he could readily picture dancing the tango.

“Well, I plan on winning Interior Designer of the Highlands this coming year,” Vanessa Weaver burst out, clearly anxious for her turn. “It’s a very prestigious award and brings in a lot of work.”

“How do you go about achieving that?” Flora asked, reaching for
her glass of ginger ale on the table.

“You submit a design board of your best project for the year. That would be my work on the Georgian mansion in Ardnamurchan-and-Ardgour. If you make the cut, the judges visit the prop
erty. Then, if nominated, you’re invited to a ball at Glenspean
Lodge, where the winner is announced.”

“Don’t trip on the steps there if you’re wearing a long dress,” Catriona warned. “That’s what I did.”

“How aboot that actress tripping at the Oscars,” Jason jeered.

“I would have been mortified,” said Zoe. “But she collected herself with great dignity, I thought. It’s what you have to do.”

“I plan to get out of this chair more,” Ace Weaver declared from his corner by the fire, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Thought you were asleep, dear, or I’d have brought you to the table.”

“Just resting with my eyes closed,” he informed her.

“He does that,” his wife told those circled around the table. “He takes everything in. You see he didn’t miss his turn. Comes from being a fighter pilot in the war, I suppose. He’s always on the alert.”

This time no response came from the corner. Ace Weaver had checked out again.

“Is that everybody?” Rex asked. “Oh, Julie, you’re up, aren’t you? For some reason I thought you’d started.”

“Mine is more of a wish than a resolution, really. Well, I intend to snag a husband in the coming year, pure and simple. Helen’s getting married and I want to as well!” Julie practically wailed.

She looked as though she might burst into tears, but recovered in time. Everyone paused in stunned silence, and then began to offer advice and encouragement, all but Drew who almost imperceptibly moved away from her on the loveseat.

“You, now,” she said twisting toward him with shiny blue eyes.

“Ehm, I plan on beating the record in home sales I set for myself at the beginning of this year. The market’s been a bit depressed, but I did okay considering. Next year will be better.” Drew raised his tumbler in a toast.

More banter and encouragement followed around the table, while Julie rolled her eyes at Helen.
Men!
The guests began to hand their slips of paper to Rex.

“What is it I’m supposed to do with these again?” he asked,
gathering up the resolutions, ranging the gamut from love to greed.

“Oh, just stick them in a jam jar and put them somewhere safe,” Julie suggested. “At the end of next year, you can remind each of us of our resolutions and find out if we succeeded or not.”

“What aboot a prize for the person who came closest to their goals?” Jason said.

“Fair enough. Well, good luck everybody, and thank you, Julie, for suggesting this fun enterprise.”

Everyone clapped except for Ace Weaver. Rex made a neat pile of the pieces of paper, including the one Vanessa had written on her husband’s behalf. The invalid’s hands lay knotty and arthritic in his lap, which was draped over with a traveling blanket. His walking stick stood propped against the side of the fireplace within arm’s reach, but it didn’t look as though he planned on going anywhere for a while.

“Oh gracious, is that the time!” Helen nudged Rex.

The mantelpiece clock had been ticking away resolutely while everyone was intent on the game and was now thirty-three minutes shy of chiming the midnight hour.

“The champagne,” his fiancée reminded him. “Quick. We need to fill everyone’s glass.”

“On my way.”

He lined up fifteen flute glasses on the drinks cabinet ready to put on a tray, and stoked up the fire.

Some of the guests rose from the coffee table to help themselves to the new spread of snacks Helen was setting out on the buffet table. Drew approached Zoe, who stood at one end fumbling among the heap of handbags. Julie’s eyes followed him possessively.

When it became obvious the house agent was chatting up the aspiring young actress and not simply making a comment in passing, she strode purposefully toward the pair. Rex only hoped it wasn’t Zoe whom Drew hoped to kiss at the stroke of twelve. A painful scene would be bound to ensue.

5
murder is afoot

Rex chatted with John
and Alistair for a few minutes. He then loaded a tray with empty glasses and headed, whistling, toward the kitchen to put the champagne on ice. Everything was going grand. The guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. Even Margarita Delacruz was laughing now and talking more freely. He couldn’t have devised a better diversion to break the ice than a poem containing clues pointing to hidden treasure. And Julie’s party game had livened things up even further. It promised to be a memorable Hogmanay party indeed.

About to set one foot in the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks. Helen and Julie sat in the breakfast nook looking as though someone had died. Julie’s mascara had smeared over her cheekbones, her fine blue eyes red and swollen. She clutched a tissue and blew her nose into it when she saw him. Too late to back out now, he thought with regret, taking in the tearful scene and suspecting what it was all about. He recalled too many scenes from his dim and distant past of women crying in kitchens at parties to want to witness this one.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said, depositing the tray on the countertop. “Anything I can do, or should I just get lost?”

“It’s Drew,” Helen explained needlessly, squeezing her friend’s forearm. “He’s jilted her.”

She’s only known him five minutes
, Rex was about to protest, stopping himself just in time. The women didn’t want to hear reason at such a time. They just wanted to vent.

“Drew likes to play the field,” he said. “That’s just the way he is.”

“How do you know?” Julie asked with a sob in her throat.

“Just the impression I got in my dealings with him. When we
were house-hunting across the Highlands, his phone was constantly going off. He was fielding calls from two or more women. It was rather distracting, in fact. In the end, I got a new agent, though we stayed on friendly terms.”

“Drew is too attractive for his own good,” Helen remarked.

Rex put the champagne bottles in ice buckets and prepared to make his exit, glancing around to see if there was anything else he needed to take into the living room. Perhaps another log for the fire … He exited the kitchen door leading outside and ventured forth into the bone-chilling night to the woodshed while sleet lashed into his face. A man’s shoe prints showed in the slush on the patio. One of the guests must have been back here for some reason, he thought; perhaps for a smoke. He headed in the opposite direction and unlatched the door to the woodshed. It creaked on its hinges as it swung open. Dark and murky, the shed gave out the scent of newly sawn pinewood, and also smelled of cold. He reached toward the neatly stacked cords, grabbed a thick branch, and rushed back to the house, grateful for the warmth of the kitchen.

Helen still sat patiently consoling her friend. He felt he should offer some words of solace himself. “Plenty of fish in the sea, lass,” he placated the jilted Julie.

To his consternation, her head sank into her arms on the pine table, and she started to sob uncontrollably. Helen directed him a look that clearly stated, “Now look what you’ve done!”

He beat a hasty retreat, remembering too late he had forgotten the champagne, and after placing the branch in the log holder, went to confront Drew. “What on earth did you say to Julie?” he said. “She’s prostrate on my kitchen table, watering down the meringues.”

Drew raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing, I swear! I simply mentioned I was seeing someone in Inverness. She said I’d been leading her on, which, I assure you, is not the case. She’s been pursuing me ever since we first met. She thought because I was spending Hogmanay here it must mean something, but I’m here because Heather’s in Chicago visiting her sister who’s about to have a baby. Must be cold and windy there, much like here tonight.” He grimaced in a disarming manner. “Had it been Florida, I might have been persuaded to go.” The house agent took a slug of whisky from his tumbler.

“Drew, you unfeeling devil! Well, I’ve got women wailing in my kitchen thanks to you. And everything was going so well.”

“Sorry,” Drew said with a hangdog look. “Should I go and apologize?”

“What good would that do?”

“I don’t know. I could say I do have feelings for her, just so I don’t completely ruin her Hogmanay.”

“For goodness sake, Drew, don’t be such a numpty. The damage is done.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say. I never made any promises. We could have had a fun fling, no harm done, even made a few fireworks. She certainly looked ready for it.”

Rex did not appreciate this sort of talk. And then he wondered: Had anyone brought fireworks? He’d overlooked that item. Not that it was the weather for them. In any case, fireworks could be dangerous and he didn’t want any accidents.

“I think Julie was hoping for more than a fling,” he pointed out.

Drew grew cross. “She was leading
me
on. And as soon as she saw me talking to Zoe, she stalked over and told me I was a lying cheat. I was only asking Zoe about her acting. I considered being an actor when I was her age. Got a headshot done and went to a few auditions. Eventually did some commercials. But the rejections became demoralizing after a while, and so did not making enough money. It’s a competitive business and you’ve got to know the right people. I just wanted to wish Zoe good luck.”

At that moment, Helen joined them and put an arm around Rex. “Oh, what would a New Year’s Eve party be without some kitchen drama?” she said brightly. “By the way, I put the champagne over there by the glasses.”

“Thanks, lass. Where’s Julie?” Rex asked. “It’s almost time.”

“Fixing her face.” Helen glanced at Drew and managed a tight smile. She clearly blamed him.

“A case of mixed signals,” Rex explained. “Drew is already spoken for.”

“Perhaps something he should have communicated to Julie from the start?” Helen looked pointedly at Drew.

“And I suppose you think I was taking advantage.”

“On the face of it, I do,” Helen said, never one to mince words even though she always came off sounding reasonable.

“I’m sorry. Really. I know she’s a close friend.” Drew wandered off, uncertain which direction to take, but avoiding Zoe.

“I hope he’s more straightforward with his clients,” Helen remarked, piqued for her friend.

“Perhaps you should not have encouraged her,” Rex said in Drew’s defense.

Helen smiled at him warmly and raised an eyebrow. “I hope we’re not going to have a row over it?”

“Definitely not. It’s their quarrel. But you best get her back in for the big moment.”

Suddenly remembering his elderly guest in the wheelchair, Rex asked Vanessa if they should tell her husband it was time to ring in the New Year

“No, don’t let’s wake him. He’s sound asleep. This is far beyond his bedtime, poor dear.”

Rex thought the cheering at midnight would be bound to wake him anyway, but said nothing. He circulated with the flutes of champagne on a tray and everyone took one, including Julie who smiled at him and said, “Thanks, I really need this.” She had managed to compose herself and repair most of the damage to her makeup. She wore a glittery tiara with a pink and silver cardboard sign on top that read, “
Happy Hogmanay!”
He gave her an encouraging wink. Helen, he saw, had donned identical headgear.

Drew, in an effort at chivalry, hovered by Julie’s side after accepting his drink and tentatively took her hand. With everyone served, the guests convened in the middle of the room and began the countdown to midnight:

Ten—nine—eight—

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The clock chimed ceremoniously as the two hands came together in a clap. Exclamations burst forth accompanied by the tooting and squawking of blowouts, some of which played tunes, creating a raucous cacophony. Toasts were made and the champagne was drunk amid an eruption of colorful streamers. Rex turned to kiss Helen. Guests embraced their partners in the midst of general good cheer. Above Helen’s head, Rex noticed Drew crushing lips with Julie and holding her in a tight clinch. Flora and Jason were likewise engaged.

Alistair struck up the opening words of “Auld Lang Syne” and everyone joined in, depositing their empty flute glasses on tables and forming a large circle with arms linked across chests, right hands clasping the left hand of the person to their left. As they sang the Robbie Burn’s verses with gusto, moving their linked arms up and down to the rhythm, the storm outside reached a crescendo of its own. A gust of wind rushed down the chimneypiece sending embers from the crumbling white log flurrying onto the stonework in front of the fireplace and blowing out a couple of candles on the coffee table.

With the fire nearly out and the loss of candlelight, the room darkened considerably. Everyone laughed and tried to keep up with the last lines of the chorus. In the grand finale, they all dashed forward, threw their arms up in the air, hands still joined, and turned around to run back in an outer-facing circle, shrieking with laughter and whooping in delight. At that moment the music and electric chandelier went out, leaving aflame only a few small candles positioned in the outer reaches of the room, which hardly gave any light out at all.

“Oooh, spooky,” joked Jason, who was immediately told to hush up by his girlfriend.

“A toppled tree must have snapped the power line,” John said.

“Possibly, but we’ve had heavy snow and never lost power,” Rex remarked. “I’ll check the fuse box. Helen, do we have any more candles?”

“I think Julie and I used them all.”

“There’s an oil lamp in the kitchen pantry and matches by the fire. I’ll fetch the lamp.”

He was heading toward the hall when an exclamation of surprise arose as someone backed into a piece of furniture in the dark and landed with a soft thud. He could discern the shape of a woman in the armchair, but was not sure if it was Vanessa or Catriona. Before he could ask if she was alright, a loud
rap-rap
sounded at the front door.

“Who comes calling on this windy, wintry night?” Cleverly intoned, his sonorous voice unmistakable in the gloom as yet another candle flickered and went out.

_____

“A visitor, so late?” Helen asked in surprise, close enough that Rex could make out the soft contours of her face.

“It’s a Scottish custom known as ‘first-footing,’ whereby friends
come calling at midnight with gifts to help welcome in the New
Year.”

“Not in this weather, surely.”

“A tall, dark, handsome stranger is considered the best luck,” John said. At least, Rex thought it was John among the several shadows flitting around the living room. “A redheaded woman, the worst.”

“Well, is someone going to answer the door or should we just let them freeze on the doorstep?” Julie demanded.

“I’ll go,” Cleverly said before Rex could stop him and go himself. “I’m closest.”

“Here, take a candle.” Rex fetched one by the side window.

The professor’s slightly stooped shape retreated around the door and his footsteps shuffled down the hall. Everyone waited in almost complete darkness amid growing anticipation as they listened. In the absence of voices and music, the clock could be heard striking the quarter hour even as the wind outside whipped up a frenzy. Rex heard the front door open. A draught swept down the hallway. There appeared to be an exchange of muted conversation, covered by the wind.

“I hope it is a tall, dark, handsome stranger,” Julie remarked. “As tall and handsome as Drew. I’d love to give Mister Harper a taste of his own medicine.”

“I wonder why a dark-haired man is considered so lucky. Why not blond?” Helen said.

A few more minutes passed before the front door slammed shut, causing Rex to jump.

“Who is it?” he called out to Cleverly.

“Nobody,” the professor called back. His form reappeared in the living room doorway, his face an eerie orb glowing in the candlelight. Rex made his way toward him and took the candle. “I went outside and looked around,” Cleverly said. “The climbing vine outside your door was knocking on the wood. There’s a gale blowing.”

“I thought I heard voices.”

“Just the murmur of the wind, I expect.”

“I’ll get the oil lamp,” Rex said. A drop of melted wax dripped onto his hand from the candle.

“Careful, hold it steady,” Cleverly warned.

Rex retrieved the lamp from the kitchen pantry and took it to the living room. He lit the lamp wick with a match, replaced the glass cover, and stirred the embers in the fireplace, piling kindling on top and blowing with the bellows. Once he got flames going, he added a small branch from the log holder. A fire leapt to life and he added the large piece of wood from the shed.

Swiping the soot from his hands, he got up from his kneeling position and brushed the fallen embers from his corduroys. Peering closely at Ace Weaver, he saw the old man was fast asleep, his face undoubtedly handsome in youth now slack and crosshatched with deep lines, and his long body broken in his wheelchair. Rex picked up the lamp by its handle and placed it at the center of the coffee table so that a pool of light radiated from its wick. Like moths drawn to a candle, the guests, stumbling in the outer darkness, drew close and began seating themselves around the table, cheerful and slightly drunk for the most part.

Rex took note of each guest in turn. “Where are Catriona and Ken?” he asked whomever might be listening.

“Catriona passed out on that armchair,” Alistair said pointing into the room. “She tripped back into it with a gasp and then settled in quite comfortably.”

John chortled. “She was tipsy. I saw her fall back and conk oot. It was actually quite funny.”

Rex, ever the solicitous host, went to see that she was in fact
comfortable and, viewing her peaceful form, draped a throw rug over her lap, since the cold was creeping into the room now that the central heating had gone out. He lit the dead candles and, taking one, proceeded into the hall, almost bumping headlong into Jason who was groping along the walls.

“Have you seen Ken Fraser?” Rex asked the student.