The Unkindest Cut (20 page)

I picked up a pair of spade earrings and examined them closely. The workmanship was actually quite good. The spades themselves were made of onyx, and not merely black enamel as I had first thought. The setting was gold, forming a thin border around each spade.

The other suits were equally well crafted. The clubs were also onyx, and the diamonds and hearts were a deep red.

‘‘Red jasper,’’ the woman at the booth replied in answer to my query.

‘‘They’re exquisitely made,’’ I said, and she thanked me.

They were also expensive, I noted, and I eyed the diamonds with regret. I could afford them, but I always hesitated to spend that much money on clothes or jewelry.

‘‘Go ahead and buy them.’’ Sophie spoke from behind me, startling me. ‘‘You know you want them.’’

‘‘Yes, do, Emma,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘They’re lovely.’’

Well, how could I not buy them after that? Sophie would nag me if I didn’t, or Marylou would probably buy them for me for my next birthday. I knew my two friends all too well.

‘‘I’m going to buy a couple of pairs myself,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘I want a pair of spades and one of hearts.’’

‘‘I’ll take clubs,’’ Sophie said, grinning at me.

‘‘And I’ll have the diamonds,’’ I said, not too reluctantly, truth be told.

Then I spotted something else. ‘‘And I’ll take two sets of cuff links,’’ I said, thinking of Jack and Luke. Their anniversary was coming up in a couple of months, and these cuff links would be a perfect gift. They had met in college over a bridge table and had been together ever since. ‘‘One set of spades and one of hearts.’’ I handed over my credit card, determined not to wince at the amount.

‘‘Good idea,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘They’ll love them.’’

Our purchases paid for and neatly boxed, we continued on our survey of the room. We viewed a wide array of products, more jewelry, more books, all kinds of cards and scorepads, computer software, and more. There was even a booth for a travel agent whose specialty was bridge vacations. We had to tear Marylou away from that one, but she brought away with her a handful of brochures.

‘‘Don’t you think a cruise sounds heavenly?’’ she said, beaming at Sophie and me.

‘‘They’re very relaxing,’’ Sophie said.

‘‘I’ve never been on one,’’ I said. ‘‘Baxter and I always talked about it, but we never got around to taking one.’’ For a moment I thought I would burst into tears. The grief hit me suddenly.

Sophie squeezed my arm, and I held on to my self-control. ‘‘Sorry,’’ I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

‘‘Don’t apologize,’’ Marylou said, in a soft voice. ‘‘We understand.’’ She slipped an arm around me and gave me a quick hug.

‘‘Thank you,’’ I said. Then, my voice stronger, I continued. ‘‘What say we go put these things away in our suite, then come back down and play some bridge?’’ I brandished my small bag of books and the jewelry. ‘‘I don’t really want to tote these around with me.’’

‘‘An excellent idea,’’ Sophie said. She led the way to the elevator.

Exiting the elevator on our floor, we walked past the scene of the crime. The closed door to Avery Trowbridge’s suite still bore crime scene tape, and I shuddered slightly as we approached our suite.

Inside we each stowed our purchases, and as I was about to put away the bag of books, I paused. I remembered the book on the history of bridge and its section on playing cards. Perhaps I should sit down right now and study it instead of going downstairs to play bridge with the others. They probably wouldn’t think it too strange if I decided to stay here in the suite because of what had happened yesterday.

I could tell them why I wanted to stay in the suite and read this particular book, but what if I was way off base in what I was thinking? I doubted they would laugh at me for my flight of fancy. They weren’t like that. Still, I felt reluctance over sharing my ideas with them until I had more time to read and ponder. Then I could use them as a sounding board before approaching Deputy Ainsworth.

‘‘Ready?’’ Sophie asked, coming out of the bathroom after touching up her makeup.

‘‘I’ve changed my mind,’’ I said, sitting down on my bed. ‘‘Would you and Marylou mind terribly if I stayed here in the room? I think I’ll relax and read for a while.’’

Sophie’s eyes grew big with concern. ‘‘Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Nausea?’’

I laughed. ‘‘No, nothing like that. I just thought I’d like a little quiet time.’’

‘‘Okay,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘You know best, and the doctor said you shouldn’t overdo it, anyway.’’ She came over to me and gave me a quick hug. ‘‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of us to stay here with you, just in case?’’

‘‘No,’’ I said in a firm tone. ‘‘I’ll be fine. You two go on and play, and I’ll join you for lunch. Around one?’’

‘‘See you then,’’ Sophie said, moving toward the door but casting glances over her shoulder at me.

‘‘Go!’’ I pointed to the door. ‘‘And tell Marylou not to fuss.’’

‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ she said, grinning.

Moments later I heard Marylou exclaiming as Sophie told her I wanted to stay in the room. Despite Sophie’s best efforts, Marylou shrugged her off and came into the bedroom. ‘‘Honey, are you sure everything’s okay?’’

Touched though I was by her concern, I was beginning to feel a bit exasperated. ‘‘I’m fine,’’ I said. ‘‘I just want to relax awhile. Go play bridge.’’ I smiled to take any sting out of my words.

‘‘If you’re sure,’’ Marylou said, still sounding doubtful.

‘‘I’m sure.’’ I made shooing motions with my hands.

‘‘See you at lunch,’’ Marylou said, shaking her head as she left the room.

Seconds later, the outer door closed behind them, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I loved them both dearly, but I also enjoyed time on my own sometimes. This was one of those times.

I picked up the bridge-history book and carried it with me into the living room. Making myself comfortable in one corner of the sofa, I switched on the lamp next to me and began to read.

The first section of the book dealt with the origin of playing cards as we know them today. Some scholars, I read, believed that cards originated in China after the invention of paper there. A few others suggested that they might have come from India, but there appeared to be little research to back that up, at least in this book.

There was dispute over when and how playing cards were introduced to Europe. Some thought it was the Mamelukes of Egypt who had brought them in the late fourteenth century. I paused for a moment, trying to remember who or what the Mamelukes were. Then I noticed a footnote. This explained that they were basically slave soldiers who converted to Islam and served some of the Islamic leaders during the Middle Ages. They sometimes seized power for themselves, however, and this they had done in Egypt in the mid-thirteenth century, remaining in power for over 250 years.

Now that I had a better sense of who the Mamelukes were, I continued reading the main text. In the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, the use of playing cards spread widely across Europe. Apparently most of the cards of the time, at least surviving examples of them, were made from woodcuts printed on paper. From this point on, Europeans experimented with the design of the cards, and by the end of the fifteenth century, the four suits now almost universally used originated in France.

Then I reached the bit that had caught my eye earlier. In France around this time, there were two basic designs for the cards, one from Rouen and the other, Paris. In the Rouen system, the kings of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs represented, respectively, David, Alexander, Caesar, and Charlemagne. The queens were said to be Pallas, the Greek warrior goddess; Rachel, the biblical mother of Joseph; Argine, the origin of which name was obscure, though possibly an anagram of
regina,
the Latin word for ‘‘queen’’; and, finally, Judith, the biblical heroine who slew the invader Holofernes.

In Parisian tradition, the same names were used, but assigned to different suits. The kings, in suit order, were David, Charlemagne (or Charles), Caesar, and Alexander, while the queens were Pallas, Judith, Rachel, and Argine. There were also different names assigned to the jacks, or knaves, but at the moment I didn’t think they were particularly significant. I was more interested in the queens and whom they represented.

When I found Avery Trowbridge dead, he was clutching the queen of diamonds in his hand.

Was that a mere coincidence? Or had he grasped the card from the table as a signal to the identity of his killer?

A man who made his living teaching and playing bridge would certainly understand the significance of a particular card.

I looked at the list of queens again. In the Rouen set, the queen of diamonds represented the mysterious Argine. That seemed too obscure to me to be of real use.

In the Parisian tradition, however, the queen of diamonds represented Rachel, the biblical mother of Joseph. Did that mean Lorraine Trowbridge, the mother of Avery’s son?

Then it hit me. Rachel was the
second
wife of Jacob. He had married Rachel’s sister Leah first.

Was Avery Trowbridge trying to tell everyone that his murderer was his second wife, Paula?

Chapter 22

I put the book aside and tried to think this through as clearly as possible.

First, did the card in Avery Trowbridge’s hand really mean anything?

To answer that, I forced myself to remember what I had seen, the position of the body and the cards on the table. Was it likely that Avery had been holding any cards in his hands when he confronted his killer? He would have seen the killer, even if someone had tried to sneak up on him. His chair was in the corner, its back too near the wall for someone to slip behind it without being seen.

The killer was probably someone Avery didn’t consider a serious threat. He might have been fiddling with the cards on the board and not been paying much attention to the killer. The killer caught him unawares, and Avery, clutching the queen of diamonds, died in the chair.

That was a possibility, particularly if Avery died instantly from the blow. Then I remembered the blood. There was too much of it for Avery to have died instantly. His heart continued to pump blood for at least a few seconds after the knife entered his chest. He therefore might have had just enough strength to reach to the table and pick up a card. Then he collapsed in the chair and died.

What about the killer, though? Wouldn’t the killer have stood by and waited until he or she was sure Avery was dead?

Possibly, I decided, in which case my theory about the card could be all wrong.

Unless, that is, the killer put that specific card in Avery’s hand. That bore some thought.

If the killer had immediately fled the scene, though, horrified by what she had just done, she might not have seen Avery’s last, desperate act.

That was possible, too.

Back to the idea that the killer had placed the card in Avery’s hand—who hated Paula so much that he wanted to point the finger at her?

I doubted that Lorraine Trowbridge or Veronica Hinkelmeier had any love for Paula. And Basil Dumont might have done it out of spite. Kill Avery to rid himself of a detested professional rival, and at the same time perhaps put his ex-wife behind bars for murder. I wasn’t so certain, despite Paula’s blithe assurance, that Basil really wanted her back.

So the card in Avery’s hand could be an attempt to frame Paula—if I was interpreting the card and its significance correctly, that Rachel equaled Paula and not Lorraine.

What if it
was
meant to identify Lorraine?

Rachel was the mother of Joseph, Jacob’s eleventh and best-loved son. Since Avery had only the one son—at least only one that I knew about—Rachel could possibly equal Lorraine in this case.

I kept coming back to the fact, however, that Rachel was Jacob’s
second
wife, and that had to indicate Paula, not Lorraine.

Unless Avery had been married to someone else before he was married to Lorraine.

The more I considered that solution, the more I liked it. I really hated to think of Marylou’s friend Paula as a killer. It was easier for me to cast Lorraine in that role because I barely knew her.

How could I find out whether Avery had been married three times?

I could ask either Lorraine or Paula, and they would both no doubt think I was being incredibly nosy, if not ghoulish.

Or, I thought, feeling pleased with myself, I could ask Haskell Crenshaw, Avery’s business manager. He might very well know, and I wouldn’t mind asking him a few other questions besides. He was still a contender for the role of killer, despite the clue of the diamond queen, as I thought of it semihumorously. That sounded like the title of a Nancy Drew book.

Stop it,
I told myself.
Focus, and stop being silly.

What about Veronica? I wondered. Could the queen of diamonds somehow refer to her?

Not as Rachel, I decided, but what about as Argine? The book had little to say about the identity of Argine. The significance of that name was probably lost. Maybe it was more likely that it was an anagram of
regina
. Could Veronica be considered a queen?

Queen of the bitches,
I thought in a moment of sheer cattiness. Seriously, though, I doubted it referred to Veronica.

But what about Haskell Crenshaw? The term ‘‘queen’’ could be used, sometimes spitefully, to refer to a gay man.

If that was the case, though, why the queen of diamonds?

Maybe it was the first queen Avery saw in his attempt to leave a clue to his killer’s identity.

That might mean that the true significance of the card was that it was a queen, and any of the four queens would have sufficed. Avery just happened to pick up the queen of diamonds.

Pleased with this bit of reasoning, I mulled it over. Crenshaw certainly had a motive for killing Avery. That knife in the chest could be construed as an act of passion. If Avery had humiliated him both professionally
and
personally, it might have been more than Crenshaw could bear. Men had been driven to murder for less.