Paperwhite Narcissus (22 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Riggs

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Victoria laughed. “That’s what Colley did with his four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. A deposit on a complete makeover at the Sun Spa Clinic. Nonrefundable.”
“I hope Mrs. Fieldstone’s goons don’t decide to ruin the job.”
Victoria was in the
Grackle
’s loft office talking to William Botts when the phone rang.
“Mrs. Trumbull? Yes, she’s here,” Botts said. “May I tell her who’s calling?”
Victoria sat forward.
“Yes, Mrs. Fieldstone. Certainly.” Botts stood, edged around John Milton, and handed Victoria the phone. She put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Did she say what she wants?”
“No, Madam Reporter, she didn’t.” Botts returned to his seat. John Milton thumped his tail.
Victoria said into the phone, “This is Mrs. Trumbull.”
“Audrey Fieldstone, Mrs. Trumbull. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Oh?”
“Calpurnia Jameson and I need to meet with you. Today, if possible.”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s rather sensitive. We’d prefer to talk to you in person. Would this evening be convenient?”
“Not really.”
There was a long pause. “We have to meet with you soon,” Audrey said.
Botts took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.
“Are you there still, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“I’m checking my schedule,” said Victoria. “It would help if
you gave me some indication of what you want to talk with me about.” Victoria waited. “Does this involve the recent deaths?”
“I’d rather not say over the phone. We can come to your house.”
“Just a moment.” Victoria put her hand over the mouthpiece again. “She wants to meet me tonight. Will you be here, William?”
“I can be.”
Victoria moved her hand away from the phone. “I’ll meet you at the
Grackle
office around seven.”
“We want to meet with you alone,” said Audrey.
“That won’t be possible. Mr. Botts will be here. Anything you need to discuss with me, you may say in front of him.”
“We don’t want anyone else involved, Mrs. Trumbull.”
“Then I think you’d better find another confidante.”
Botts swung his glasses by one earpiece.
Audrey took a breath. “Mrs. Trumbull, you’re the only person on this island who has the background, the depth of knowledge, the wisdom, and the sensitivity to understand our situation. We need your advice.”
Victoria patted her hair and cleared her throat. “I’ll see you here at seven, but only on condition that Mr. Botts is present. He can be discreet.”
Botts muttered, “If I try.”
Audrey paused. “All right. Seven o’clock at the
Grackle
office?”
“You know where it is?”
“Everybody on the Island does, now.”
Victoria handed the phone to Botts, who hung up. “‘Knowledge, wisdom, sensitivity,”’ said Victoria.
“What on earth does she want?” Botts asked.
“They. Audrey
and
Calpurnia.”
Botts had set his glasses down on the desk. He picked them up again and chewed on the earpiece. “That’s a strange alliance.”
“It is,” said Victoria.
“Sounds as though I’m about to be caught in heavy crossfire.”
Victoria smiled. “Quite possibly.”
“What if I stop by your house a little before seven and pick you up.”
“Make it six-thirty. You might get a good story out of this, William.”
Botts murmured something.
“I didn’t hear you,” said Victoria.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Botts. “I’m regretting the loss of my innocence, is all.”
 
“What is the matter with you, Colley? Stop pacing, will you?”
Calpurnia and Colley were having their predinner drinks in front of the fireplace.
Colley, still dressed in the coat and tie he’d worn to the newspaper office, had paced to the built-in bar at the end of the long living room. He turned and paced back again, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I should think so. Have you thanked Mrs. Trumbull for saving your life the other night?”
“Victoria Trumbull doesn’t need my thanks.”
“I doubt if anyone else on the Island will thank her for saving you. Send her flowers, Colley. Better yet, a box of Chilmark Chocolates.”
Colley had reached the fireplace end of the room, where Calpurnia sat in one of the wing chairs. He spun around. “I blame a lot of my problems on Victoria Trumbull. Damned if I’m going to acknowledge anything she allegedly does for me.”
Calpurnia waved her hand airily. “She stopped the press the day you caught your tie.”
“That never would have happened if she hadn’t been in the press room—where she had no right to be.” Colley resumed his pacing.
“Would you stop that? It’s driving me crazy.”
“Ha,” said Colley, still pacing.
“I suppose Audrey’s goons are putting the squeeze on you?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Pressure from the California girlfriend?”
Colley stopped abruptly. “What are you talking about?”
“I suppose she wants collateral for the money you plan to squeeze out of her? Did it occur to you to tell ‘Joy’ that you’re already married?”
Colley spun around. “Who told you that?”
Calpurnia laughed. “We live on an island, or did you forget?”
“Joy is merely someone on the Internet.”
“Oh, really?” Calpurnia turned and smiled at him. “A ‘merely someone’ with lots and lots of money, I understand. Let’s see, you’re meeting her, where? In Arizona, is it? You’re so charming. What a pity thousands and thousands of women will never have the privilege of meeting you.”
“Is that a threat?” said Colley.
Calpurnia’s smile widened. “Speaking of money, are you going to tell me what you did with the four hundred and fifty thousand you got from Ambler?”
“No.”
“Wonderful husband,” murmured Calpurnia. “When you reach the bar again, get me another drink, will you.” Calpurnia held up her empty glass. “Mrs. Trumbull found jobs for everyone you fired, including herself.”
“For God’s sake, I never fired her. She and Botts are putting me out of business with that sophomoric rag of his.”
“Loosen up, Colley.”
Colley poured another bourbon and water and took it back to Calpurnia. “Mind telling me where you’re off to tonight?”
“That’s my business.”
“Wonderful wife,” said Colley.
 
Victoria and Botts reached the loft office shortly after six-thirty. Botts lowered John Milton’s basket to the floor of the barn, John Milton climbed in slowly, and Botts raised the basket up to the loft. He set a bowl next to the dog and filled it with water from a plastic milk bottle.
“What do you expect to happen tonight?” he asked after John Milton had settled himself next to the desk with a sigh.
“I don’t know, William. Now I believe Audrey might have been the person who lured Colley to Chappaquiddick, intending to kill him there.” Victoria shook out the bright serape that covered the chair cushion and put it back on the exposed spring.
“Why Chappy?”
“Chappaquiddick is out of the way.”
“It certainly is, but why?” Botts asked.
“Audrey took her boat there for the Trustees field day, which isn’t until this weekend. Two days early?” Victoria eased herself into the chair.
“She thinks ahead,” said Botts.
“You know how desolate that area is, even at this time of year, don’t you?”
Botts nodded.
Victoria continued. “She enticed Colley there, late at night so he’d couldn’t go by ferry. That way, he’d have to use the beach route where no one would see him.” She shifted to a more comfortable position, away from the covered spring. “If we hadn’t been watching him, no one would have known where he’d gone. Once she’d killed him and disposed of his body, no one would know what had happened to him.”
“If Colley had drowned that night, it wouldn’t even have been her fault.”
“She may have suspected the cut would happen that night, but I doubt if she counted on it.”
“Looking back, it was a sure thing,” said Botts. “A full moon, a high tide, heavy surf, and the vibrations of a vehicle on unstable sand to trigger the break. You ought to get a medal, Victoria. You saved him.” Botts looked down at John Milton, then back up again. “Several things don’t make sense, though. Why would Colley agree to meet her late at night in a remote area? And what reason would she have for killing him? Why would she kill him? I can imagine why she might kill Candy Keene and
Al Fox. I understand, the two planned a bit of blackmail. But why Colley?”
Victoria shifted position again. “Perhaps he saw her leaving Al Fox’s office the night he was killed. Colley was meeting with Al Fox earlier that same day and I interrupted them. He may have been returning to finish his business.”
“Maybe,” said Botts. “You mentioned Calpurnia as a suspect. What possible motive would she have? And how could she convince her own husband to meet her at Audrey’s boat?”
“I don’t suspect Calpurnia alone anymore. She was in bed when we brought Colley home that night. There’s no way she could have gotten home and in bed before we arrived. I’m beginning to think the two women collaborated in the murders.” Victoria thought for a few moments. “Calpurnia inherits part of the Jameson trust fund only if she is still married to Colley at the time of his death.” Victoria sat up straight. “I know what’s happening now. The two women have worked together in the killings. Calpurnia couldn’t have called Colley. He’d surely have recognized her voice. So it must have been Audrey who called.” Victoria picked at a rough spot on the back of her hand. “What’s strange is that Colley claims he couldn’t recognize the voice.”
Botts shook his head. “So he gets a call from a woman he can’t identify and goes charging off down an unstable beach to meet with her?”
“Colley thinks he’s invincible.”
“That’s true.”
“He can also be stupid.”
“Colley has a king-size grudge against you, you know.” Botts looked at his watch.
“Why should he have a grudge against me?”
“Narcissists don’t think they need rescuing and you’ve rescued him twice.” Botts leaned back in his chair. “The
Grackle
has become his competitor, thanks to the money you finagled out of him. According to him, none of this is his fault.”
“Colley has to face facts.”
“He never will.” Botts continued to chew on his glasses frame. “Ironic that he almost drowned, through no fault of the killer’s, whichever one it is.” He looked at his watch again. “I must say, Victoria, I’m a bit uneasy about this meeting with one or both of the killers. This office is not exactly high security. We need to make a plan of some kind.”
“Before you picked me up, I called Casey. She’ll keep an eye on us.”
Botts rolled his eyes. “We’ll be up in the loft with the killer while the police chief is watching the doors? I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to be here tonight.”
John Milton lifted his head. His ears perked up. Victoria heard a car drive past. Several minutes later, she heard footsteps on the stairs to the loft.
Botts looked at his watch again. “They’re early.”
“Victoria?” Casey appeared at the top of the steps. “I parked out of sight behind the house. Junior Norton will be here in another ten minutes.”
“You’ll need to stay out of sight,” Victoria said. “Audrey agreed only reluctantly to have William present.”
Botts opened a small low door behind his desk and peered into it. “I think you can fit into this storage space. You may have to crouch down. Not much head room.”
Casey looked in. “That’s fine. Before they get here, though, I have something to tell you, Victoria.”
Victoria sat forward.
“The state police found the gun that shot Candy Keene. It was in the brook behind where the father and son were shooting. They’ve traced it to the owner.”
“Who?” asked Victoria.
“Tom Dwyer’s wife.”
Victoria struggled to her feet. “That can’t be.”
“There’s no question about it,” said Casey. “Mrs. Dwyer’s father gave the gun to her as a high school graduation present more than twenty years ago.”
“Have you talked to her?”
Casey sighed. “Victoria, the state police told me strictly out of courtesy. This case belongs to them.”
“Then I’ll talk to her.”
“Not officially,” said Casey.
“Hello?” Audrey’s voice called from the foot of the steps. Victoria hadn’t heard her car drive up.
Casey slipped behind the desk, bent down, and crawled into the storage space under the eaves, leaving the small door open a crack.
Victoria leaned over the arm of her chair and called down, “We’re up here.”
When Audrey and Calpurnia reached the top of the stairs, both glanced curiously around the loft, at the exposed rafters, water-stained ceiling, and stacks of books and papers.
Botts cleared a pile of papers off the kitchen chair and moved the chair next to Victoria. Then he turned a milk crate upside down. “One of you will have to sit on this.”
Calpurnia took the chair. “You tell Mrs. Trumbull, Audrey. It’s your show.”
Audrey perched cautiously on the low plastic crate. “I don’t like sharing what I’m about to say with anyone other than you, Mrs. Trumbull.”
Victoria said nothing.
Calpurnia tilted her chair back. “Audrey intended to go to the police and blame me for the murders …”
“That’s not true,” said Audrey.
“ … which is when we agreed we needed to get your advice, Mrs. Trumbull.”
Audrey leaned over and patted John Milton. “We’re in an appalling situation.” She stopped talking and continued to pat the dog.
Victoria nodded.
“The cat’s got Audrey’s tongue,” said Calpurnia after a while, and laughed. She swept her hair away from her face. “Well, I’ll tell you the story then, since she apparently can’t. Audrey’s husband, J. Ambler Fieldstone, and I had an affair that lasted for almost a year. He told me he was going to divorce Audrey and marry me.”
Audrey looked up. “Never!”
“Shall I continue?” When Audrey said nothing, Calpurnia went on. “Ambler and I were cruising on his boat when I learned that he and Colley—my own husband, of all people—were buying and selling me like a piece of merchandise.”
Audrey looked up from John Milton and smiled. “Raw meat.”
“Exactly. Raw meat. That ended the affair. Humiliating. Especially since everyone on this Island but me seemed to know the situation. He had no intention of divorcing Audrey. Now I find out …”
Audrey broke in. “Calpurnia and I have never been on good terms. But when I learned that Ambler was meeting another woman …”
“Candy Keene,” said Calpurnia.
Victoria raised her eyebrows.
“ … on Nantucket for a tête-à-tête, I called Calpurnia. Miss Keene wouldn’t set foot on Ambler’s boat because she got seasick,
so she flew over to Nantucket. Her excuse was that she was consummating a real-estate deal.”
“‘Consummating,’ ha!” said Calpurnia. “When Audrey called me to suggest we play a little trick on Ambler, I was going to hang up without talking to her. Then when I heard what she had in mind, I thought her little trick might be fun.”
Victoria looked from Audrey to Calpurnia, her eyes hooded. “The ‘little trick’ was to run over him with his boat?”
Audrey shuddered. “The idea,” she said, “was to intercept Ambler in Muskegut Channel in my Chris, tie up alongside, and board his Hatteras. I planned to start an argument with him while Calpurnia went up to the controls in the tower. I was going to shove him overboard in the heat of the argument, then Calpurnia was going to circle around …”
“With her boat tied alongside,” said Calpurnia.
“ … and after he’d been in the water a good long time, pick him up and take him back to Oak Bluffs.”
“Leaving Candy Keene alone on Nantucket,” Calpurnia finished.
“But you ran over him instead,” said Victoria.
Audrey turned away.
“Why didn’t you report the accident to the Coast Guard right away?” Victoria asked.
“It was too ghastly,” said Audrey. “We weren’t thinking straight.”
“People get killed by propellers more often than the public realizes,” said Victoria. “You were foolish. The Coast Guard knows how to deal with boating accidents. It’s not too late to explain to them what happened.”
“We simply couldn’t bring ourselves to face the authorities,” said Audrey.
“Audrey won’t take responsibility for her not-so-funny trick. She must have known he’d go under the props when she pushed him overboard,” Calpurnia said.
“Calpurnia was the one who ran him over when she put the boat in gear,” Audrey said. “Not I.”
“Ambler’s death has been puzzling me,” said Victoria. “I couldn’t imagine how he could kill himself by accident.” She turned to Audrey. “Call the Coast Guard and make an appointment to meet someone at the station. Tell them what happened before this goes on much longer.”
Both Audrey and Calpurnia were silent.
“Call them from here. You’ll be in trouble for not reporting the accident immediately, but you’ll be in worse trouble if it comes out that you never reported it.”
Audrey and Calpurnia were both looking down, Calpurnia at her feet, Audrey at John Milton.
“There’s another matter that needs to be cleared up,” Victoria said. “The deaths of Candy Keene and Al Fox.”
“What about their deaths?” Audrey asked.
Calpurnia continued to look at her feet.
“Both of you had motives for killing them.”
Calpurnia looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone killed those two people and thought he or she had a good reason,” said Victoria.
“I had nothing to do with either murder,” said Calpurnia.
Audrey’s face flushed. “I certainly didn’t kill them. She,” Audrey said, pointing to Calpurnia, “is not telling you the whole story.”
“Whole story!” said Calpurnia. “Who’s not telling the whole story? Why don’t you tell Mrs. Trumbull about Buddy,
Mrs.
Fieldstone?”
Victoria studied the two women. Botts toyed with his pencil.
Audrey turned on Calpurnia. “Strange, isn’t it, darling, that a knowledgable boat captain like you would put a boat into gear just as a passenger falls overboard. Accident? I hardly think so, darling.” She made a gesture with the side of her hand, as if to slice the air. “Buddy? I’ll tell Mrs. Trumbull about Buddy. But first, you tell her about Colley’s plan for his total body makeover
to impress a sweet thing he met on the Internet who had a lot of money and who calls herself Joy.”
Calpurnia stood. “What makeover?”
“That’s what he’s doing with the four hundred and fifty grand. Vanishing. Starting a new life with his new body and face and his new rich sweetie.” Audrey laughed. “She may be worth more than his trust fund.”
“That’s a lie!”
“You think so, darling? I told you about Joy. What else do you think my goons have been doing, besides hasseling Colley for my money? He’s not terribly good at covering himself. A total body makeover at Sun Spa in Tempe.”
“Stop it, both of you,” said Victoria. “Audrey, did you call Colley on your cell phone from Chappaquiddick the other night?”
“Certainly not.”
Victoria turned to Calpurnia. “Did you ask Colley to meet you on Chappaquiddick?”
Calpurnia laughed. “You mean the night you brought him home half-drowned?”
John Milton lifted his head and made a low rumbling growl.
Botts stopped playing with his pencil and stared at his dog. “What’s the matter, boy?”
John Milton looked quickly at Botts, then toward the stairs, and continued to growl. He got unsteadily to his feet. The fur on his neck was standing up.
Victoria, too, got to her feet. “All of you, get to the back of the loft near the hay window and lie down. Right away.”
“What …” Calpurnia started to say.
Victoria moved behind her chair. “Casey,” she called out softly.
Casey pushed the closet door open, crawled out, stretched her arms and legs, and put her hand on the back of her neck. She shifted her belt around so her holster was near her hand.
John Milton stood facing the stairs, feet apart, teeth bared, growling steadily, the fur raised along his back.
Victoria glanced toward the large window in the back of the loft. Low evening sunlight streamed through, right in her eyes, making it difficult to see the three people lying on the floor. She could barely make out Casey, hunched over with her back to the angled ceiling.
John Milton barked once.
The step near the middle of the stairway creaked. Victoria tilted her head to listen. She heard crickets in the field. A song sparrow sang a few bars of an aria. There was no other sound. She held her lilac-wood stick tightly in one hand and grasped the arm of the chair, ready to lower herself behind it, away from the open stairwell.
John Milton spread his feet apart, raised his head, and howled. Victoria had just enough time to consider that she and John Milton shared a primitive fight reflex when she saw a figure, head partly concealed by hunched shoulders, reach the top step.
Victoria took a deep breath.
“Colley Jameson! What are you doing here?”
Colley spun around. He was holding a gun and pointed it at Victoria.
Several things happened at once. John Milton lunged unsteadily for Colley’s leg. Casey, her own gun in hand, shouted, “Hold it, Jameson!” Colley swung around and aimed his gun at the dog. Victoria, using every bit of strength she had, shoved the rickety armchair toward Colley. A chair leg broke, the chair tipped over, and caught Colley just above his knees. His gun fired. John Milton sank his old teeth into Colley’s leg and Colley, with a shriek, dropped his gun.
Casey stepped forward, held her gun on Colley, flipped him over one-handed, holstered her gun, twisted his arms behind his back, and handcuffed him.
“Can we get up now, Madam Reporter?” Botts called out from the back of the loft.
“It’s over,” said Casey.
Victoria looked for a place to sit and catch her breath. She settled onto the kitchen chair.
Colley swore. “If it weren’t for you, Victoria Trumbull …”
“Shall I call the state police?” Victoria asked Casey.
“Yeah,” Casey muttered.
While Victoria was on the phone, Casey maneuvered Colley to his feet and followed him down the stairs, holding her gun at his back.
“Where’s my sergeant when I need him?”
“Here,” Junior Norton said from the foot of the stairs.
“Take care of Mr. Jameson until the state guys get here, will you? Victoria needs to explain something to me.”
“Not now,” said Victoria, leaning heavily on her stick. “Tomorrow morning. At my house.”
“Right,” said Junior.
In the loft, Botts got down on his knees in front of John Milton and rubbed his head. “Ground filet mignon for you tonight, old friend. Triple ground.” John Milton licked his face. “Your teeth must hurt.”

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