The Corpse With the Golden Nose (29 page)

Almost no one noticed the two
RCMP
officers who stuck their heads into the room, caught Bud's eye, and beckoned him outside.

I sighed. I looked up. Lauren was hovering.

“I wonder, Lauren, could I bother you to give me hand outside, please? I'm going to take this little window of opportunity to go and smoke a cigarette.”
God, I needed one!

She tutted, but smiled. “Sure I will. It's out through that door there, and around the side. Come on with you now.”

As I hobbled, she held my good arm, and we made it out quite quickly. I limped toward the large decorative pot that was filled with fine, white sand with a few butts in it, and lit up. As I balanced myself against the edge of the pot I saw it: a long stub of a slightly wet-looking cigarette. I picked it up and sniffed.

Of course!
Clever!

That sealed it. If I'd been in
any
doubt at all about the murders,
that
was the final nail in the murderer's coffin.
I had them!
I asked Lauren if I could borrow her cellphone for a moment, to make a long distance call, and she said she didn't mind at all—so long as it was a quick one. I assured her it would be. She agreed to go inside and find me a Ziploc bag and bring it out to me. I knocked the glowing end off the cigarette stub that I'd found, and set it aside for the cops. I puffed as hard as I could on the last thin little cigarette from
my
pack, pulled the number I needed to call from my purse, and made my call—apologizing profusely for disturbing the poor man's sleep. Finally, I stubbed out my cigarette and had a quiet word with myself.

Alright, Cait Morgan. Here we go, then. Time for the show. You'd better be good.

The paramedics would arrive very soon to take Serendipity and Colin, and quite possibly me, to the emergency room, so I didn't have much time.

As I hobbled back inside, with Lauren's help, Bud gave me the nod. Oh bless him, he had absolutely no idea what I was about to do, and yet I could tell he was supporting me totally and completely.

Love you, Bud! Okay—now or never Cait!

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” BUD BEGAN
loudly. His voice rang out across the small dining room. It was a very commanding voice.
Hey, he had been a commanding police officer in the Force, right?

“Can I have your attention, please? Everyone, please, sit down. It's just for a few moments while we wait for the ambulances to arrive.”

I allowed myself to take in the scene around me.

Bud helped Sheri to lift Colin onto a seat at an unoccupied table. The boy flopped there, pale, panting, and sipping water. His mother's love for him was obvious in every look, touch, and movement.

At the next table sat Serendipity, attended to by both Sammy and Suzie. Raj was perched at her side. I hadn't seen Vince Chen at the dinner, and suspected that dodging crockery at lunchtime had been his cue to exit Kelowna and head for the comparative safety of another winemaking region.

Beyond the two “sick” tables was the “dead” table: Gordy and Marlene sat alone, holding each others' hands, clearly trying to come to terms with all the shocks of the past half hour.

Across the room from the Wisers' table, Lizzie and Grant Jackson were also sitting very close to each other. She was blinking at the goings on through her giant spectacles, he fiddling with the crystal that lay on his breast. Opposite them sat Ray Murciano and Gloria Thompson, the two people the Jacksons employed at their store and restaurant.

Lauren and Pat were at my table, Lauren making sure I had hankies, water, and whatever else I needed, and Ellen came to join us.

Everyone looked surprised when Bud came across the room to help me to my feet.

I cleared my throat.

“Hello everyone. I know you all know me as Bud's ‘other half,' but I have to begin by telling you all that I've been here this weekend under false pretences.” The folks I'd expected to shoot puzzled looks did so.
Good.

“Yes, my name's Cait, Cait Morgan, and I am
indeed
a professor at the University of Vancouver, but I'm not a marketing professor, I'm a criminal psychologist. I specialize in profiling victims. And, as those of you who were at the party last evening will know, Ellen invited Bud, who's a retired police officer, to come to Kelowna to look into her sister's death. To be fair to Ellen,” I nodded in her direction, “she didn't know that Bud's ‘accompanying other' for this weekend visit would be me—well, she knew it would be
me
, Cait, but she didn't know
then
what I do for a living. She was just lucky, I guess, that she actually got two investigators for the price of one.” I forced a smile.

I'd expected a buzz around the room, and that's pretty much what I got.
Good.

“I realize that Bud and I have only spent a very small amount of time with each of you, but we've managed to learn a lot in a short time. Now, with the events of this afternoon and this evening, it's clear that something's amiss here, so it's time for me to speak up. With Bud's support, of course, and with the indulgence of the
RCMP
, who, you might have noticed, have a presence in the room.”

It was clear from the response that several people
hadn't
noticed the cops hovering at the door. To be fair, there
had
been rather a lot going on. There was a lot of shuffling on seats.
Also good.

“Now, of course, we're all devastated by the tragic deaths of Rob MacMillan and Dave . . . um, his friend and colleague, Dave, this afternoon.” As the room muttered, Sheri blew her nose, and Colin looked toward me with red eyes, his face a mask of despair, with a hint of relief.
Interesting.

“I also know that you might think that the reason for the accident was that the driver had been drinking. When Bud, Ellen, and I left the lunch today, I saw a puddle of brake fluid on the side of the road where the Wisers' car had been parked. I mentioned this to the police”—I raised an eyebrow in Bud's direction, and he nodded at me—“and they have confirmed that the brake fluid line on the car had been tampered with.”

Gasps. Open mouths. The Wisers grabbed each others' hands even tighter.

“Oh my God!” cried Sheri.

“Mom, he was drunk anyway,” added Colin blackly.

I held up my hands for quiet. I got it. “Obviously the police need to find out who might have done this, and why. I believe I can help them. First of all, we have to wonder if Rob and Dave were the intended victims of this, and I cannot discount the facts that Rob and Dave are friends who sometimes work together in the oil business in Calgary, and that some sort of reason for them to be killed might have followed them here to Kelowna from Alberta. However, I think you'll all agree,
most
people would have expected that the Wisers would be driving that car, heading down the steep curves and bends of Lakeshore Road this afternoon.”

Accepting expressions and head nodding all around.
Good.

“The question is, who would want to kill Marlene and Gordy Wiser? And why?”

This time a round of head shaking, rather than nodding.

“Who
are
the Wisers?” I asked, rhetorically. “Gordy's been a farmer in this area for decades. He and Marlene have raised six children, all adopted, and have secured a future for themselves by the efforts they have made to tame the land and grow fine crops. They are fun-loving, happily married people, who, I think everyone would agree, have their little quirks, as we all do,”—a few smiles, and even the Wisers nodding—“but they are well respected, well known in the community.” More nodding. “One of their little quirks is that they like to know what's going on around them. So keeping an eye on things is second nature. Interested neighbors can be very useful.” I was trying to err on the side of politeness, but realized I'd have to cross the line at some point. “Though some might see it as nosiness. And nosiness can be dangerous, because a nosey person might see things that others would rather they didn't see. And they might do things that others might wish they hadn't done. The Wisers even went so far as to keep collecting Annette's mail after her death as a way to continue to ‘keep an eye on her.'” I let this thought sink in.

“So what might the Wisers have seen or done that might have caused them to become the target of a killer?” I paused. I didn't expect any suggestions. “This is what brought me to a possible link with Annette's death. You all know the circumstances: Ellen found her sister dead, with a note and an empty wine bottle beside her. It's always been accepted as a suicide, and, when I thought in
detail
about the reactions to Ellen's little outburst last night, it became very clear to me that the idea that someone might have
killed
Annette was
completely alien
to most people in the room. That was a most telling discovery. But that's exactly what Bud and I were asked to come here to consider: was Annette Newman murdered? Which brings me to the answer to that question:
yes, she was
.”

The silence that followed was broken by Grant.

“At lunch, Ellen said that Bud had looked into Annette's death and had convinced her it
was
a suicide after all. I'm confused.”

“I'm afraid that after Ellen had that epiphany this morning, Bud and I discovered more facts that led us to believe it was murder after all.”

“You didn't tell Ellen? You didn't tell
anyone
?” Grant seemed to be speaking on behalf of my entire audience.

“Okay, I understand your confusion, because I, too, was confused for a long time. Right up until this evening, actually: but here it is. I
know
Annette Newman was killed,
and
I know a good deal more. I know who tampered with the Wisers' brakes, and why—
and
who made sure that Serendipity Soul suffered an almost fatal allergic reaction tonight.”

“Okay—out with it! You're saying someone
did
that to my angel? Someone
poisoned
her? Tired to
kill
her?” Sammy was on his feet, ready again to fight for his child. Maybe even ready to kill for her. He couldn't have been
less
laid back. All the passion he'd put into his stage presence was still there.

“Serendipity is quite safe now, don't panic,” I replied, “and I can hear the sirens coming. It won't be long until she's at the hospital.”

“I'm fine, really I'm fine,” said Serendipity weakly. “Sammy, sit down.
Dad!
”

It was clear that both Sammy and Suzie were taken aback at the use of this term by their daughter, and it had the desired effect. And the sirens had their effect on me. I had to get a move on.

“If Annette
was
killed, then maybe the attempt on the Wisers' lives had something to do with that. After all, they were close to Annette. They saw her frequently, they each dropped into the other's homes. She brought them little treats, they knew of her hobbies, her interests, her passions, and they had a bird's eye view of all the comings and goings at Anen House, all day, every day. If they knew that much about her life, what might they know about her death? Now, Gordy and Marlene did mention to me that Annette had become distant in the last few weeks of her life, but, somehow they
forgot
to mention that they'd witnessed her new will. Why would they
forget
to mention that?” I peered over at them. “It was quite important, really, wasn't it? Especially since the new will was one of the things that quite a few people in this room used as an example of how Annette must have been getting ready to kill herself.”

“It's an odd thing, that: the will that left her part of the winery to
you
, Raj.” Now it was Raj's turn to wriggle with discomfort beneath my withering glance. “To you and your ‘firstborn child,' that is, which is
very
odd, isn't it, eh? Got any kids, Raj? I mean, you're about forty, you've only been here a few years. Plenty of time for you to have had a kid as old as what, twenty, twenty-two even, back in Yorkshire. Anything to say? You are, as I've already told you, the prime suspect here, given what Annette willed to you. Did the Wisers know something about you that you didn't want them to share? Did you convince them to sign a fake will, thereby gaining access to what you've told me more than once is a unique collection of grape varietals? Did Serendipity begin to suspect? Maybe she wasn't the first girl who needed to be disposed of. Maybe . . .”

Both Raj
and
Sammy leapt to their feet. Serendipity jumped up between them.

“Dad, stop. You stop too, Cait. This isn't fair to Raj.” She turned toward the man she clearly loved and said, “No more messing about. This is it, right? Cards on the table?” Raj nodded, and sat. He held his head in his hands, shaking his head.

“Look everyone, Raj and I love each other. We've been together a while, and, whatever
you
might think, Cait Morgan, I
know
he didn't kill Annette. He
really
quite liked Annette. In fact, they'd been together for a little while, back when he was still working here, right?” Sammy looked shocked, Suzie rolled her eyes, and Raj just kept shaking his head. “Raj hasn't got any children. But we might have, in the future.”

“Are you two . . . ?” Sammy sounded amazed.

Both Raj and Serendipity nodded. “Yes, Mom, Dad, I'm sorry you're finding out this way but we are, and we always will be, a couple. We've decided. I think we're old enough to know our own minds, and I don't think I really need your permission to do anything I want, right?”

Sammy shook his head, dazed.

“Raj,” I said, cutting across the personal dramas of the Souls, “would I be right in saying that, when you and Annette hooked up at a wine event the first time, you weren't as ‘careful' as you might have been?” Raj nodded.