Set the Stage for Murder (11 page)

“Half an hour near the zinnias?”

“Sounds good,” he said as he walked away on a path that led to the back of the house.

“Well,” Teddy said quietly as he watched Ethan’s retreat, “that’s about as low as I’ve seen Mr. Ethan.”

“Yeah, he’s been awfully quiet all week. I think that’s why Marc’s being even more outrageous than usual; he’s trying to make him laugh. Marc says this latest play has totally stalled and Ethan has almost given up on it.”

“Well, at least the gardens look good,” Teddy observed as he took in the landscape. “Clem!” At the mention of her name the dog came to attention. “Go with Ethan. He needs your help.” Clementine looked to where Ethan had just disappeared, around the corner of the house, and took off in pursuit. “That’ll keep him occupied.”

Vicki leaned back into her husband’s embrace and smiled. “Oh yes, she’s quite the helper. It’s good of Phoebe to have all of us over tonight.

“
Well, I don’t know how
good
it is of her. I suspect she has ulterior motives.

“
What do you mean?” Vicki asked.

“
She’s gone all Miss Marple over this Roz thing. She wants to find out if we know anything new.”

“
What makes you think that?”

“
Because she called the office yesterday and pumped Clea for thirty minutes about all things Rosamund Whiting. She said she was “preparing dossiers” on all the “suspects.”

Vicki laughed. “Do you think she’s serious?”

“
What I think,” her husband began, “is that she’ll show up tomorrow night wearing a Burberry trench coat and carrying a magnifying glass in her Hermes purse. We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have Vincent fingerprint everyone.”

“
You know,” Vicki giggled, “for the first time all week, I’m starting to look forward to our little gathering.”

Chapter 10

Instead of driving the quarter mile to Phoebe’s house, the foursome decided to walk. It was a lovely summer evening and although the sun hadn’t quite set, the wooded area to their right was dark enough to encourage a smattering of fireflies to start their nightly ritual. To the right of the group, beyond a precarious drop-off, flowed the Hudson River. A low stone wall ran along the path, ensuring that no one veered too close to the cliff. On the other side of the magnificent estuary, a glowing red-orange orb was beginning its descent behind the indigo peaks of the Catskill range, sending fingers of purple reaching across the sky. The four stopped near the Courting Oak and took in the glorious sunset. The massive tree was so named because generations of McDowell men, including Teddy, had chosen this spot to propose to their future brides. As twilight established itself, the group continued on its way to the Big House, as it had come be called over the years in order to differentiate it from Teddy and Vicki’s place, which was absurdly referred to as the Cottage.

After cocktails were served on the patio, which was gaily illuminated by brightly colored paper Chinese lanterns, a Phoebe Russell McDowell summer staple, the group moved inside to the dining room to enjoy shrimp cocktail, filet mignon, roasted potatoes, and grilled asparagus. Mrs. O’Hanion, who along with her husband, Gerald, always accompanied Phoebe to Lenore’s Folly, might not travel the adventurous culinary trails on which Marc journeyed, but her traditional meals were excellently prepared nonetheless. The group praised the meal profusely before adjourning to the drawing room for dessert and coffee.

Like the rest of the Big House, Phoebe’s drawing room, or withdrawing room as it had been called in earlier times, was decorated in whites and creams with bold splashes of color in the accessories. She had purposely kept the woods and fabrics muted and neutral so that the heaviness one felt upon entering the gloomy residence immediately dissipated. Her mother-in-law, Teddy’s grandmother McDowell, tried to die when Phoebe had the grand staircase painted a glossy white. After the deed was done, the old lady admitted, albeit grudgingly, that it did “bring life to the old mausoleum.”

Phoebe had been patient all evening, allowing the conversation to meander through a variety of topics ranging from Ethan’s writer’s block, Marc’s menus for the weekend, and Teddy and Vicki’s plans for a new stone wall along the river walk to replace the century-old one that was starting to crumble and fall away in places. Finally, as everyone swooned over slices of Mrs. O’Hanion’s lattice-topped cherry pie topped with homemade vanilla ice cream, and after what she considered to be the proper amount of time before a hostess could totally railroad the conversation, Phoebe cleared her throat and spoke. “Theodore, just what are our plans for unmasking whoever is posing a threat to Rosamund? And kindly remove that smirk from your face. I know you think it’s charming, but it can be highly irritating at times.” She took a sip of coffee from her delicate china cup. “And if you haven’t formulated a plan, I have what I believe to be a viable course of action for nabbing the perp.”

After only the briefest of hesitations, everyone continued to eat his or her pie and drink his or her coffee, avoiding the urge to smile knowingly at or even share a glance with another occupant of the room, because not one of them wanted to risk getting caught and receiving “the look.” “The look” was famous in social circles, the boardroom of McDowell Financial and among the current denizens of Lenore’s Folly. “The look” was to be avoided at all costs.

“Well, can anyone here speak?”

“Mother, did you just say, “nabbing the perp?” Teddy asked as he raised his eyebrow at a benignly smiling Vincent.

“Yes, Theodore, it means capturing the perpetrator. In this particular instance, it refers to the person responsible for these threats.”

“Ahhh, the perpetrator.” Teddy got up from his seat on one of the sofas and went to a side table where Gerald had left a tray with a decanter of brandy and several snifters. “Mother, what makes you so certain that ‘the perp’ is going to be at Lenore’s Folly this weekend?” He picked up the tray and carried it over to the large ivory tufted silk ottoman that sat between the two sofas.

“I’m not certain, Theodore, but based on my conversation with Clea, as well as some independent research, I feel that there is a chance that someone on your guest list is responsible.”

“Such as … ?”

“Vincent, would you please distribute the information packets?”

Vincent smiled at the group as he picked up a stack of folders and walked around the drawing room, handing one to everyone present. Eyebrows raised around the room as everyone read the report. Clearly, Phoebe, and no doubt Vincent, had been very busy this week. Extensive files had been prepared on each of the guests who would be staying at Lenore’s Folly for the weekend.

Vicki looked up from the folder and shook her head in amazement. “Phoebe, this is amazing …”

“
And a little frightening,” Teddy muttered under his breath.

Vicki gave her husband her own version of “the look” for interrupting her. “How in the world did you get this information?

“Yeah,” Marc said. “I need your contacts. There’s stuff in here that even I don’t know.”

Phoebe smiled enigmatically and with a conspiratorial glance at Vincent said, “I’m truly sorry but I’m not at liberty to disclose my sources.” Vincent looked at her expectantly, as if prompting his employer. “Oh,” she added, “I
could
tell you but then I would have to kill you.” Vincent smiled and gave her a quick approving nod. Phoebe sat back in her chair, extremely pleased with herself.

Everyone laughed as she continued. “You’ll notice that the folder is divided into two sections. The dossiers after the red divider marked “Suspects” are the guests on whom I feel we should focus our attentions.”

Teddy flipped to the “Supect” section. “Dame Caroline and the entire Cortez family? Okay, I’ll play along. Why did these particular people make your short list of suspects?” He smiled at her as he started pouring brandy for everyone. “I’m curious to hear your deductive reasoning.”

“
There you go with that smirk again, Theodore. Honestly, Victoria, I don’t know how you put up with it on a daily basis.”

“
She thinks it’s cute, Mother. Now please illuminate us.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes and shook her head before proceeding. “Well, as I’m sure you already know, Theodore, since I found this out from your assistant, Rosamund has instigated some sort of relationship with Sir Anthony. I don’t think it’s clear just what the nature of this relationship is or just how far it has gone, but we do know that Dame Caroline knows about it and is not happy. I’m sure all of you know about that unfortunate item in one of the papers. And if there’s anything Cary Dupree hates more than she hates Rosamund Whiting, it’s public humiliation. You’ll recall she sued a London paper a few years ago for suggesting that she’d once been a man.”

“
Well …” Marc started.

“
Marc!” Ethan warned, as the rest of the group suppressed smiles.

“
Reports at the time suggest that Cary was almost deranged with anger over such public allegations,” continued Phoebe who had put on her reading glasses and was referring to a notebook. “To put it delicately,” she said, looking around the assembled group, “Cary is rather touchy when it comes to her … appearance.” She looked at Marc, daring him to comment. To his credit, and with a great deal of effort, he remained totally expressionless. Phoebe continued. “She has always been insecure about her looks and, apparently, she has always resented the first, very attractive Mrs. Dupree. I think seeing her husband with Rosamund and
then
having the incident made public in such a tawdry way could have pushed her to do something she might not do otherwise.”

“
But it didn’t make it to the papers until yesterday,” said Vicki.

“
Yes, I know,” Phoebe agreed, acknowledging the flaw in her theory. “But the incident itself happened the night before Rosamund’s closing performance. Perhaps that was enough to set her off.”

Vicki was reading ahead in her folder. “And it seems you know about Connor and Roz.”

“
Yes,” Phoebe said, with more than a little disapproval in her tone. “Although, I’m not so sure we know the true nature of that relationship.”

“
What do you mean?” Vicki asked, getting into the spirit of things despite herself. “Didn’t Clea see them leave
Overture
together and didn’t they look awfully … close?”

Phoebe nodded her head thoughtfully. “Yes, that is what Clea said she witnessed and some of the
Overture
staff has since corroborated her story. However … ”

“Mother … ” Teddy started.

“Yes, Theodore, the staff was questioned. But I simply can’t reveal my sources or my methods, so don’t even ask.”

Teddy sighed and poured himself another brandy.

“Go ahead, Phoebe,” Vicki said. “I’m fascinated.”

Phoebe smiled appreciatively at her daughter-in-law and accepted the brandy Teddy handed her. “Thank you, Victoria. Now, as I was about to say before my son interrupted me, we have reason to believe that Roz may be . . . strong-arming young Mr. Cortez.”

“
Mother, are you saying that Roz is blackmailing Connor?”

“
It is a possibility.”

“
And you can’t tell me how you know this?”

Phoebe looked at Vincent pleadingly and he spoke for the first time since Phoebe had begun her criminological presentation. “I have a lot of contacts on the force, Mr. Mac. And I know quite a few private detectives. It’s been pretty easy to get information. But I gotta tell ya, we lucked into that one.”

“
Vincent called an investigator acquaintance to ask him to do some work for us . . . really, Theodore, there is simply no need to close your eyes and adopt that long-suffering look . . . anyway, as I was saying, it turns out that this gentleman – well I’m not so sure he is a gentleman since he broke a client’s confidence – this fellow had just done some work for one Ms. Rosamund Whiting!”

“
You’ve got to be kidding,” Vicki said, excitedly. She had kicked her shoes off and tucked her legs up under her on the sofa. She reached for the brandy her husband had poured for her. “Why did Roz need a private detective?”

Teddy leaned back and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I want to point out to all who are assembled that Nancy Drew has just jumped aboard Miss Marple’s train.”

“
Would you stop interrupting?” she demanded as she pinched his arm. “Your mother is trying to tell a story!”

“
Yes, Theodore, please hush.”

Teddy rubbed his arm and gave Vicki his best hurt puppy look. “That hurt. You’re mean.”

Again, Vicki rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her mother-in-law. “So why did Roz need a private detective?”

“
Vincent, why don’t you field that question?”

“
Happy to, Mrs. Mac.” Vincent directed his comments not only to Vicki, but to Marc, as well, who seemed to be captivated by every utterance that came out of Vincent’s mouth. “It seems that Ms. Whiting hired this guy to follow Connor Cortez. According to him, she was looking for any information he could dig up that she could use to stop a relationship between Mr. Cortez and Miss Juliet Whiting. He said she paid him a lot of money, so he did some things he wouldn’t normally do.”

“
You mean he pushed the ethical envelope, so to speak?” Teddy asked, suddenly very interested in the conversation.