A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4) (5 page)

Chapter 9
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I was sitting in the private dining room that night, having been invited to dinner by Cressida. Cressida and Mr. Buttons had decided that Greg would dine with them from now on, as it was not wise for him to be eating in the main dining room with the protesters around. Now, Greg was sitting at the far end of the table and staring off into space, as if he were lost in thought.

A thunderstorm was brewing, and the air almost cracked with electricity. It did nothing to lift the mood in the room.

Cressida’s voice broke through the tense atmosphere. “Please, let’s just focus on having one normal night. It’s been a stressful and heartbreaking week.”

Greg started to cry, but he appeared to be fighting to keep himself composed. I looked at him with sympathy, but then I noticed that Mr. Buttons was watching him intently. I had no idea why, but planned to find out later.

“I know we can’t express how truly sorry we are for your loss, Greg, but we want to make sure that the rest of your stay here is as good as it can be,” Cressida said sincerely, before signaling for everyone to eat.

I watched her glance over at Mr. Buttons, acknowledging that by that point he had already started eating. Cressida didn’t appear to be annoyed or upset, but it was apparent to me that everything was starting to take a toll on her.

Greg looked at his full plate, but didn’t take even the smallest bite. “I’d like to say something, if I may,” he began. We all nodded, and he continued. “This has been the hardest week of my life. They say you can’t start to heal until you grieve the loss of a loved one, but how can you begin to grieve and try to come back from such devastation if nobody lets you?” He looked around the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just so frustrating. First the cops were poking around; no offense to your friend, Sergeant Wessley,” he said. “Then my car got destroyed, and then those weirdoes put on a huge protest rally, and for what? To stop my company from expanding our business? It’s ridiculous. Let me mourn my wife.” He paused and covered his eyes. “I just want to say goodbye to her properly, to come to terms with everything, and to find out who did this to her, if this was indeed intentional.”

Everyone looked around at each other. “That’s entirely understandable, Greg,” Cressida said. “The police are just doing their jobs, but your poor wife, the vandalism, the council complaints, and everything else all at once is unbearable. We’re here to help alleviate some of your pressure and share it.”

Greg smiled and nodded.

“I know you don’t hold any hard feelings against Blake personally,” Mr. Buttons said, “but it’s important for you to understand that typical police procedure requires them by law to interview possible witnesses and suspects immediately after a crime has been committed and reported. It would be a complete travesty if your wife’s killer went free and no justice was handed down.”

Greg’s lips trembled, but he didn’t speak.

“We all just want to see justice served,” Mr. Buttons added.

Greg bit off a piece of meat and spoke with a full mouth. “That’s all I ask.” The words were mumbled and difficult to hear, but it was clear enough to keep the room silent. Greg sloshed the food around in his mouth and took a deep gulp. Mr. Buttons cringed at the sight.

Greg let out a sigh before speaking again. “I don’t mean to sound like a jerk at all tonight. I’m just so heartbroken and lost right now. It’s so hard to accept. The vandalism isn’t really anything in the grand scheme of things, but I lost my loving wife, and now a bunch of wilderness conservationists are trying to make me lose my business, too. I just feel like I’m losing everything, and I can’t do anything to stop it from happening.”

We all continued in silence for some time. I knew that none of us approved of Greg destroying the wilderness area, but we weren’t about to say anything about it, what with his wife so recently dying.

Dorothy swept in and cleared the plates, while shooting evil glares at Greg. I felt like shooting evil glares at Greg too, as he had just refused dessert. I had been looking forward to it, but Cressida had not mentioned it again after Greg’s refusal.

“Would anyone like cards?” Mr. Buttons suddenly blurted, causing everyone to start. “How about you, Greg?”

Greg had risen half out of his seat; now, he sat back down. “Err, yes,” he said, but he didn’t sound too willing.

With a flourish, Mr. Buttons pulled a box covered with a piece of silk from his pocket. At that moment, there was a loud clap of thunder, and Greg gasped.

“I hope we don’t get hail,” Cressida said, oblivious to Greg’s jumpy demeanor.

Mr. Buttons handed Greg the deck. “Please shuffle these, and then put them back down on the table.”

Greg did as he was told, until Mr. Buttons took the cards back and started turning them over. “What?” Greg gasped. “I thought you wanted me to play a hand of poker or blackjack or something with you. What is this?”

Mr. Buttons paid him no mind, and continued laying out the cards on the table. Then he flipped each one face up. “The moon,” Mr. Buttons said. “The devil. Deception exists around you. Take that how you will, but I know what I take it to mean.”

Greg looked agitated. “They’re just cards, man. You already tricked me into letting you read my cards or whatever they call it, but can I just catch a break for once? I just need one single night of relaxation. My mind needs it more than my body does.” With that, he hurried from the room, without so much as a thank you to Cressida for the dinner.

“Something seems off about him. That’s all I’m saying,” Mr. Buttons said in a hushed tone.

“Mr. Buttons, why do you think he’s being deceptive?” I said. “Do you think he knows something he’s not telling anyone, or do you just think he’s aware that his work might have caused his wife’s death?”

Mr. Buttons frowned. “I’m not really sure what I think yet, but I believe the cards. He’s lying about something. He might not even know he’s lying, but there’s something dishonest about that man. Have you noticed that when he cried, not a single tear could be seen?”

“Mr. Buttons is right,” Cressida said. “Why, Lord Farringdon told me only this morning that Greg is not to be trusted.”

With that, Lord Farringdon waddled out from under the vast, starched linen tablecloth, and hissed in the direction of the door.

I stroked Lord Farringdon, and said my goodbyes to Cressida and Mr. Buttons. “Thank you so much for dinner, Cressida.”

“Anytime, dear. You know that.” She smiled warmly. “Would you like an umbrella or raincoat? There’s an old Drizabone too, but I think it has spiders in the pockets.”

I crossed to the window to look out. “No thanks, Cressida. The rain hasn’t quite started yet. If I hurry, I’ll get home before it does.”

I made my way to the front door, and flung it open. I loved electrical storms, and particularly the time between the lightning and the rain. There was a flash of lightning, and I could see a police car parked at the front gate.

The first drops of rain were falling, and I ran down the pathway to the driver’s window. Blake rolled the window down. “Would you like a police escort home?” he said.

I laughed. “Sure, why not. What are you doing here?”

Blake opened his door and got out of his car. “Maintaining a police presence at the boarding house. Has Cressida had any trouble with Greg and the protesters being under the same roof?”

I shook my head. “Not as far as I know. I think it’s all okay.”

We took off at a fast pace toward my cottage. “Sibyl, I’m not saying that you should change your routine, your life, or anything of the sort,” Blake said. “All I’m saying is that Greg is a target. That means he has a large, red circle on his back, with possibly more than one person aiming to take him down. This wilderness protection stuff is serious, and his company refuses to compromise with the protesters in any way. He’s bringing it on himself, but letting him stay here is just bringing all of the danger he’s inviting onto you guys too. I care about you.”

We had reached my front gate, and I turned to Blake, but he opened my gate for me to walk through.

I opened my front door, and switched on the light. I was about to invite Blake in, but he was already heading back down the path.

Chapter 10
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I put Sandy in the back yard after our walk, and went to the boarding house for breakfast. I headed for the private dining room, intent on asking Mr. Buttons why he had not shown up for dog walking once again that morning.

Cressida was talking as I walked into the room and took my seat at the imposing mahogany dining table. “For all we know, it could be that female assistant of his who chased him around the establishment,” Cressida said to Mr. Buttons.

“Julie?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. “She seems a little unpleasant, but surely she isn’t dangerous.”

Just then, I slipped into a vision. Cressida and Mr. Buttons faded away, replaced by a mist. Julie walked out of the mist, holding a box in her hands, and then Mr. Buttons and Cressida appeared behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“Do you really think she could have had something to do with it?” Mr. Buttons asked Cressida.

Julie shook her head, and then handed them the box. They both opened it, and then they nodded.

“Aha,” Mr. Buttons said to Cressida. “Julie’s given us the answer.”

I came to my senses, and looked around the room. Clearly, Cressida and Mr. Buttons had not noticed me zoning out, or whatever I did when I was experiencing a vision, as they were still talking to each other.

“Do you really think she could have had something to do with it?” Mr. Buttons asked Cressida.

His words chilled me to the bone, considering I had just experienced those very words in my vision only seconds earlier.

Cressida thought about it for a few moments. “I just saw how she was acting the other day after it all happened, and it didn’t seem like she was saddened by the news in the least. Something just didn’t feel right about it, but that doesn’t mean she would’ve done something like that.”

“Maybe we should talk to Greg about her,” I said. “I’m sure if she’s a homicidal maniac, he’d have some clue about it.”

“You never know. Sometimes people are completely blind to betrayal from within,” Mr. Buttons said softly.

Cressida looked down at her watch. “Well, he usually comes down around this time. So, unless he’s sleeping in this morning, we should be able to find a nice, subtle way to ask him about his personal assistant any time soon.”

Mr. Buttons and I nodded. “Hey, Mr. Buttons,” I said. “I missed you on our walk this morning.”

Mr. Buttons looked shamefaced. “Sorry. I was actually heading down to your cottage, when I saw that Dorothy had some teaspoons mixed in with some forks, so I had to rearrange all the cutlery. It took a long time, as some of the knives needed polishing.”

Cressida and I shot each other a quick look, but were saved from speaking - anyway, what was there to say? - by Greg’s arrival.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said by way of greeting, as he poked his head around the door.

“Same old thing, just a new day. How are you holding up?” asked Mr. Buttons.

“It’s been rough, but I think I’m starting to accept things a bit better. Sorry about any comments I might or might not have made recently. I just have a hard time holding back my mouth when my heart’s aching so badly.” He frowned and pursed his lips.

“I understand, Greg,” Mr. Buttons said. “We’re all shaken up too, with the recent events, and on top of that, the council is threatening to shut down Cressida because they say that the balcony collapsed due to faulty construction, or some such nonsense.”

Greg nodded, but I noticed a light in his eyes. “I hope the inspectors aren’t right. It’d be a shame if this place was actually at fault for my wife’s death.”

Cressida jumped to her feet. “Are you serious?” she snapped. “You know very well that balcony was one hundred percent safe.”

To me, Greg looked smug rather than contrite. “I didn’t mean anything by it; I’m sorry. I was just saying that it’s possible. I certainly hope that isn’t what happened, but it sounds like the most logical answer, unless that crazy guy who vandalized my car was in on it.”

I thought I’d better say something. “Do you think your personal assistant would have any reason for trying to hurt you or your wife?”

Mr. Buttons kicked me under the table. “You were supposed to say something subtle,” he said in a stage whisper, a comment which would have been heard not only by Greg, but probably by half the residents of the boarding house as well.

Greg frowned and appeared to be thinking about what to say. “Julie?” he said, as he walked into the room. “She definitely would’ve had a reason to hurt either of us. She hits on me all the time. That woman has been trying to have an affair with me for a long time, even when Lisa was still alive!”

“Have you had an affair with her?” Mr. Buttons said.

“Mr. Buttons!” Cressida and I exclaimed in unison.

Greg’s hands flew to his throat. “No, I would never cheat on my wife,” he said loudly, fixing Mr. Buttons with a glare. “That woman has just always had a thing for me. Every time I tell her no, she gets all crazy and makes being around her miserable. I don’t know if she would ever go so far as to hurt anyone, though. I didn’t even consider her a suspect before now,” he added.

Greg crossed to a window and stared out. “Maybe I should just fire her,” he said quietly. “Even if she didn’t hurt Lisa, if it gets out that she’s been hitting on me and I allowed it to continue, I’ll be made a fool in the public’s eyes. I’m going to have a talk with her.” With that, he hurried to the door, and closed it quietly behind him.

Cressida sighed. “There are better ways to start a morning.”

“I think I’m going to pay Blake a visit,” I said. “I don’t know if he’s even looked into the personal assistant’s history. He should at least be made aware of her, and the fact that she’s shown interest in the victim’s husband.”

Mr. Buttons nodded. “Okay, but can’t you just call him?”

Cressida elbowed him. “You silly man.”

Mr. Buttons’ cheeks flushed. “Oh, sorry.”

I was a little embarrassed, but, truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing Blake. It was funny that he had just left me on my doorstep like that, and I wondered if anything was wrong.

As I pulled over outside the police station, I smiled. The thought of seeing Blake again always filled me with excitement.

I opened the door with anticipation, but then stopped in surprise. Blake was standing behind the front desk with a young, attractive woman. The two were talking like best friends. I caught my breath and turned to leave, but before I reached the door, Blake called me back.

“Sibyl, this is Rachel Winters. Rachel, this is Sibyl Potts.”

The two of us shook hands. Blake did not introduce the woman as his girlfriend, thankfully, but neither did he give any clue as to her identity.

Rachel left, after waving to Blake flirtatiously, or so it seemed to me.

Blake must have caught my expression, as he chuckled. “Rachel’s an old friend,” he said. “She’s one of the protesters. She’s back in town for the protest rallies.”

I nodded. I was more than a little jealous, to be honest. I took a deep breath. “Well, I’m here about Julie, Greg’s personal assistant. Greg told us that she’s been trying to start up some sort of affair with him for quite a while now.”

“Does he think she wanted to hurt him, or Lisa?”

I shrugged. “He isn’t sure, but maybe Julie thought he’d be all hers if the wife was removed from the picture.”

“Thanks, Sibyl. I’ll look into it.”

I nodded, and made to leave, but Blake caught my arm. “Sibyl,” he began, but then Constable Andrews burst through the door, and hurried to the front office.

Blake abruptly released my arm. “That was my ex-girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend?” I parroted.

Blake nodded. “Yes, Rachel Winters is my ex-girlfriend.” He stressed the ex.

It was my turn to nod. Rachel Winters, the New Agey type, as the townspeople had described her. Was she really in town for the protest rallies, or did she have another agenda, an agenda that involved Blake?