18 Deader Homes and Gardens (17 page)

I sat back and took a discreet sip of wine. Now I had too much information to even begin to assimilate on my own. Peter was not a potential confidant, due to his obsession with the rules. “Okay,” I said as if I were about to say something of profound significance, “what do you think about all this? I know that you believe Winston committed suicide, but Terry was adamant that he didn’t. He said that Winston wasn’t depressed and was looking forward to their trip to Rio. I met someone who played in Winston’s string ensemble, and he told me that Winston was definitely expecting them that weekend. Have you considered the possibility that you caught Winston at a bad moment, or maybe misinterpreted his actions?”

“Two days ago I was convinced that Winston did indeed commit suicide, but after Terry’s death … well, we both know that he didn’t poison himself.” She gave me a perplexed look. “I suppose we know that. I’ve read that combinations of prescription drugs or illegal substances can be toxic. The police have searched the house and his luggage, haven’t they?”

“I’m sure they have. In any case, he didn’t spike the vodka with some caustic cleaning solution; the symptoms would have been immediate and obvious. An overdose of a prescription medication takes time to get into the system. The poison was strong, obviously. The lab will identify it sooner or later.”

“I’ve tried my best to figure out who might have had a motive to kill Terry.” She held up her palms before I could launch into a tirade. “Yes, you’re convinced that everyone out here is so fixated on keeping Hollow Valley in the family that we were lined up at his front door, each with a weapon.”

“Why else would someone kill Terry—and Winston? Did either of them express any interest in the nursery business? Did they expect a share of the profits? They must have been in good financial shape to remodel the house with such style. I can’t picture them in overalls, with dirty fingernails.”

Nattie smiled. “They weren’t good ol’ country boys. When Winston’s parents died, he signed over his interest in the Hollow Valley Nursery to the corporation. He said that he didn’t want any responsibility or liability. The nursery’s profitable, but a percentage goes to maintaining stock, and the remaining profit’s split four ways. Jordan’s father sold his interest to the corporation about five years ago.”

“Why?” I asked.

She glanced over her shoulder, then said in a low voice, “A midlife crisis named Chiffon. Jordan’s mother said that she’d accept either a divorce or a six-bedroom villa in Aruba. Jordan says it has a wonderful view of the beach.”

My head was beginning to ache. I put down the glass and said, “I need to go home and feign sympathy for my daughter, who has a sunburn.”

Nattie stood up to give me a hug. “I’m really sorry about the house, Claire. I know how much you wanted it, and I was looking forward to having someone remotely sane to talk to. I loved it out here, but now it feels … well, menacing. Someone murdered Terry. I don’t see how it could be a random sociopath.” She gave me a heartrending look. “What do I do, Claire?”

“Let the police investigate before you do anything,” I said. “There may be some screwy explanation that we haven’t begun to consider.” I didn’t add that I intended to consider every last screwy explanation, including aliens, delivery truck drivers, and treacherous cave-dwelling mutants from the family tree. I told her that I would keep her informed about the police investigation and went to my car. When I reached the driveway that led to what should have been my house, I couldn’t stop myself from turning. If I found a way to get inside, it was not likely that I’d find a confession on the kitchen island. I could, however, take a quick look in the desk.

Dusk was settling in as I got out of the car. I was on my way to the porch when I heard an outraged screech.

8

I did not go thundering around the corner of the house to rescue some hapless female from the jaws of a bear, nor did I bust through the front door to find an ax before I thundered around the corner of the house to rescue any hapless body. I took the wiser course and stopped where I was. The second screech was more of a yelp. Biting down on my lower lip, I cautiously headed for the back of the house. I heard frantic whispers and splashes. I regret to say that I recognized the voices, so instead of dialing nine-one-one to report a burglary in progress, I merely stepped into sight and said, “What are you two doing here?”

Caron, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, was treading water in the middle of the pool. Inez clutched a long pole with a flat basket on one end. Neither seemed eager to answer me. “Well?” I said.

“Swimming,” Caron said blithely. “Does it look like I’m riding a bicycle?”

Inez held up the pole. “This is in case Caron gets a cramp and I have to pull her out of the water before she drowns. We ate hamburgers on the drive. My mother always makes me wait for an hour before I go in the water.”

I wanted to take the pole and bop Caron on the head. “Swimming while fully dressed? Isn’t it a bit cumbersome? Inez, put down that thing before you poke yourself in the eye.” I watched Caron as she swam to a ladder and pulled herself up. “Let me try again. What are you two doing here?”

Caron shook herself like a wet dog and then meticulously fluffed her hair with her fingers while she concocted a plausible story. She has a talent for mendacity that has been honed since the day she filched her first teething biscuit. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” she began. “I mean, what are you doing here? Aren’t you trespassing?”

“That’s the best you can do?” I asked. “Were you and Inez stalking a unicorn when you lost your balance?”

“It wasn’t a unicorn,” Inez said.

“My mother was being facetious, for pity’s sake,” Caron said to her. “At least I hope she was.” She blinked at me. “You have been acting Quite Odd. Is there something you need to tell me? Does it have anything to do with Peter? You can’t divorce him, Mother. He promised me a new car next June, a convertible if I want. All you’d give me is that pathetic thing you drive.” She buried her face in her hands as though overwhelmed with grief. Her shoulders actually trembled.

“I was thinking about a used bicycle and a helmet. You’ll get to select the color.”

Caron flopped down on a chaise. “Inez told me how really cool the house is, so we came here so I could see it. It really is cool. It’s kind of far, but if I get the car this summer instead of waiting, I won’t care that it takes At Least twenty minutes.”

“Which isn’t that bad,” Inez said, “if you take into consideration the fact that the average commute time for New York City is thirty minutes. In Los Angeles, commuters spend an average of seventy-two hours stuck in traffic every year.”

I looked at her for a moment, then at Caron. “There’s a problem, dear. We can’t have the house. The title is unresolved, but it belonged to either Winston or Terry. Sadly, neither of them can sell or even lease it to us. Winston died three months ago, and Terry died this afternoon.” I turned back at Inez, whose eyes were wide. “I’m sorry. I know you liked him. He lapsed into a coma and never came out of it.”

Caron stood up. “What do you mean we can’t have the house? Just buy it from whoever inherited it from whoever owned it. Did you see the size of the closet? I could hide a dozen unicorns in there! And the shower has so many faucets that I’ll never figure out how to turn them all on at the same time. You never let a murder get in your way. How many hours till Peter gets back? We need to solve this before he starts ordering you to stop meddling.”

“I think we should make a list,” Inez said. “We can have two columns—one for the improbable suspects and another for the probable ones. Then we can categorize them by motive and opportunity, and rank them accordingly.”

I sighed. “We are not going to use the Dewey Decimal System to solve this, Inez. These people aren’t that obliging. Inez, did you tell Caron about Jordan?”

“She sounds egotistical and immature,” Caron opined with a sniff. “She’s probably in one of those gangs where everybody has the same tattoo. She wasn’t here in March when this Winston person drowned. I see no reason to waste time on her.”

“She’s kind of interesting,” Inez countered meekly. “She plays guitar in an all-girls band.”

“For all I care, she can play the oboe with her toes.”

“You can’t even play solitaire without cheating.”

“I can count to ten on my fingers.”

“Sometimes, if you’re lucky.”

I intervened before the inane spat escalated. “There’s no point in sitting here, debating digital prowess. I didn’t see your car when I arrived. Where did you park it?”

“At the edge of the front yard, behind some trees,” Caron said. “I figured you’d be lurking around out here. All I wanted to do was have a quick look at the house.”

“Why did you jump in the pool with your clothes on?”

She averted her eyes. “I slipped.”

“Yeah,” said Inez. “You about jumped out of your skin when you saw that creepy old guy and fell over backward. I guess that’s like slipping.”

“Moses?” I asked Inez. When she looked blank, I added, “The bald man who was here this morning.”

“This morning? Who are you talking about, Ms. Malloy? Jordan was here, and then Terry arrived. You and he went inside to talk. After that, there were the paramedics and the two police officers. I’d never seen the old guy until a few minutes ago.”

Moses was beginning to seriously annoy me. I would have questioned my sanity had not Nattie seen him, too. His corporeal subsistence did not seem to interfere with his ability to vanish when it suited him. “You both saw him, right? Where is he now?”

“Inside,” Caron said. “He sort of popped out of nowhere and scuttled into the house like a hermit crab. Inez and I were going to find him as soon as I recovered from my shock. My heart is still pounding, and I feel weak.”

“Put your head between your toes,” I said as I headed for the French doors. Moses was not in the living room, nor was he in the kitchen, the master suite, or the delectable library. As I went upstairs, I heard a shower running. This presented a dilemma: I wanted to find Moses, but I most assuredly did not want to find Moses-in-the-raw. My mind recoiled from the involuntary image. I ascertained that he was in what Caron claimed was her bathroom. A pair of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt were piled next to the bed. This implied that when he emerged from the bathroom, he would be wearing a towel—or not.

I went downstairs at a brisk clip. Caron and Inez were poking around the kitchen cabinets, commenting on the alphabetized spice bottles and the obscure gourmet accoutrements. “He’s taking a shower,” I told them. “You need to run along before he comes down to give you big, fat, slobbery kisses. He’s very affectionate.”

Caron slammed a cabinet door. “Let’s go, Inez. I can’t wait to tell Joel about all of this. It is such a hoot.” Inez shrugged and put down what appeared to be olive tongs.

I walked with them to the front door. “One question before you leave. Did Moses use a key to get inside?”

Inez shook her head. “He came out of the orchard, singing a crazy song like he was drunk. When he saw us, he shouted something and then just went inside. That’s when Caron … slipped.”

I waited on the porch until they left in Caron’s car. It was tempting to follow them, but I squared my shoulders and went back inside to wait for Moses. I busied myself turning on lights and opening stray drawers. I wanted to search the library, but I didn’t want Moses to amble out the French doors before I talked to him. It was well past my dinner hour, and I couldn’t remember if I’d eaten lunch. I found the half-wheel of Brie in the refrigerator and a box of crackers on a counter.

I perched on a stool and began to eat. Eventually, I heard a door open in the room above me, followed by a series of thumps. Moses might be an expert in the gentle art of picking locks, but it sounded as though he were less adept at putting on his trousers. When I heard his footstep in the foyer, I called, “Moses, come join me for a snack.”

“Snick-snack, paddywack,” he said cheerfully as he materialized in the kitchen doorway. “Shall we have a little snort?”

“Help yourself. It might be prudent to stick to unopened bottles. You saw what happened to Terry.”

“Damn shame.” Moses ducked behind the counter and reappeared with a bottle of peppermint schnapps. He smacked his lips as he wiggled out the cork and poured several ounces into a glass. “Want some?” he asked as he lunged for the cracker box. “It’ll put some pep in your schnapps, that’s for sure.”

I shoved the box within his reach. “I saw you here this morning when the paramedics and police arrived.”

“Nothing like a grand brouhaha to get the juices flowing. Yep, I saw it all. I was in the orchard when that pretty little miss with the spectacles walked down to the stream. She was talking to herself something fierce. Then along skulks Jordan, acting like she was a Russian spy. I was hoping to see a real hissy fight, but they went across the stream and into the woods. I thought real hard about following them.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to get briars all over my britches. Nattie doesn’t like to pluck ’em off before she does laundry.” He took a gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The other reason I didn’t go after them was that I wanted to have a word with Terry when he got back from wherever he went. Turns out I was too late. Too late for a date, too late for Miss Prissy. She said if she caught me inside this house she was gonna get me in trouble. I reckon at my age there ain’t no trouble I haven’t already been in—up to my neck. I can’t recall the number of nights I spent in jails over the years. When I wasn’t but thirteen, I got caught stealing a pack of cigarettes at the general store. If the doctor hadn’t made me swear I’d give up smoking, I’d be smoking three packs a day.”

I tried not to smile. “You might be surprised at the cost these days. One of my friends had a fit when the price for a pack topped six dollars. After she calculated that one pack a day would cost nearly two hundred dollars a month, she quit cold turkey.”

Moses chortled. “Wouldn’t cost me a dime a month. Did you see any cookies in a cabinet? Peppermint schnapps always gives me an itch for chocolate chips.”