A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4) (6 page)

BOOK: A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4)
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Chapter 11
.

 

I was walking down the main street with Mr. Buttons and Cressida. We were on our way to Nathan’s Hardware store. Cressida was determined to fill some tiny cracks in the plaster walls, as she was sure that the council would condemn the building if they saw them. Mr. Buttons and I had assured her that all old buildings have hairline cracks here and there, but our assurances had fallen on deaf ears.

Mr. Buttons was still convinced that Dorothy was the one responsible for Lisa’s death. “That awful woman, Dorothy, is the murderer. I’m sure of it,” he said. “She has a frightful temper. She and Lisa did have a terrible argument, and, as far as I can see, that’s the end of the matter. Problem solved.”

Cressida shook her head. “Do you really Dorothy would actually kill someone for complaining about her cooking?” she asked.

“You never know,” Mr. Buttons insisted. “She has a bad temper. I just think the wife was the intended victim, and that Dorothy was somehow involved. Besides, her eyebrows are crooked.”

Cressida and I exchanged glances.

A thought occurred to me. “How could the wife have been the intended victim?”

“What?” Cressida asked me. “What does that have to do with eyebrows?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Mr. Buttons, you said that you think Lisa was the intended victim.”

Mr. Buttons nodded.

“Greg said he always smoked out on the balcony,” I said. “Lisa was hardly ever out there, so why would Dorothy, or anyone else for that matter, try to kill Lisa on the balcony if they wanted to make it look like an accident?”

Mr. Buttons paused and thought about it for a while. “I guess you might have me there, but who knows?” he finally said. “Maybe Dorothy overheard Greg telling his wife he was going to smoke outside that day.”

Cressida arrived at the checkout with a basket full of items. Mr. Buttons walked up behind her and greeted the store’s owner, who was slumped over the register. “Hi Nathan, how are you?”

The elderly, stooped man looked up and squinted at Mr. Buttons. “Is that you, Mr. Buttons? I’ve misplaced my glasses. What with the death of that poor woman, to all those people dancing around with signs and yelling about saving the wilderness area, the world’s gone mad. It’s a good cause, mind you, but protesting in the main street won’t help them.”

“It is a good cause,” Mr. Buttons said. “I’m sure if something came my way that I felt strongly about, even I would hold up a sign for a few hours to show my support. Can’t blame them for trying to save the wilderness area, can you?”

I nodded. “It’s an absolute crime that Greg’s encroaching on the wilderness area. I wish the protests could help, but it’s obvious that Greg isn’t going to stop his land expansion.”

“Greg?” Nathan said. “Is he doing renovations at the boarding house?”

Cressida frowned. “No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason, really. Sibyl mentioned his name, and I just then remembered him coming in here the other day.” Nathan scratched his nearly bald head. “Strange thing, but old age is a fickle beast.” He chuckled.

“What did Greg come here for?” Cressida asked.

“I think he bought a big wrench,” Nathan said.

Cressida, Mr. Buttons, and I exchanged glances. Mr. Buttons wriggled his eyebrows at us. I looked back at Nathan, but he was staring in a mirror, trying to rearrange his combover.

As we were walking toward the front door of the hardware store, Mr. Buttons stopped and looked up at the ceiling, and then pointed upward. “Hey, Nathan,” he said, turning back to the elderly man, “is that a CCTV system?”

Nathan looked up from the mirror, and set his comb on the nearest bench. “Yes, it is. Why?”

“Do you think we could take a look at your footage for the week leading up to the recent death at the boarding house?”

Nathan looked confused. “You really should leave that up to the police, Mr. Buttons,” he warned him. “Why, back in my day -”

Mr. Buttons cut him off. “Oh, yes, of course we’ll turn over anything we find right away. I just have a hunch about the whole thing, and if you have recordings of everyone, we can at least narrow it down to a few people who could be involved.”

“You’re looking for what, exactly?” Cressida asked him.

Mr. Buttons looked smug. “If a certain person purchased a wrench or similar tool, she could’ve tinkered with the railing that collapsed.” He turned back to Nathan, but he had already fallen asleep on the counter and was snoring softly.

We walked down the street to the nearest café. Mr. Buttons stopped outside the entrance. “I’m still saying that Dorothy did it.”

Cressida groaned. “Of course you are, Mr. Buttons.”

“Look, just think about this,” I said. “Why would Dorothy sabotage the railing of a balcony that Greg always used? I’d think the perpetrator would have to be either someone going after Greg, like the wilderness protesters, or Greg himself going after his wife.”

“How do you figure?” Mr. Buttons asked in disbelief. “Why would Greg kill his own wife?”

“I don’t know what the motive could be, but maybe it has to do with his assistant.”

Mr. Buttons shook his head. “We know that he turned her down, though, so I really doubt that. There’s also the fact that Greg and Lisa just got married, so it’s unlikely that he was already having an affair. Why would he get married in that case? It makes no sense. Plus, he’s already a very wealthy man, so it’s not like he did it for insurance money or something. I just don’t see it.” Mr. Buttons shook his head again.

I walked inside the building, the tempting fragrance of coffee luring me in. “I’m just saying that Greg had an opportunity, much more so than anyone else could have. It’s his room, and he used that balcony frequently. I just think it would be far less obvious to the random person walking outside if Greg was undoing some bolts, as opposed to someone like Dorothy standing up there doing it.”

“You could have a point there, Sibyl,” Cressida said. “And why wasn’t Greg up there that day? Seems odd to me that he wanted to smoke in the yard that one time.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I think we might be onto something.”

“But then he would have had to lure his wife onto the balcony in his place,” Mr. Buttons said. “Wouldn’t that have been tough, too? And again, what is his motive?”

We had taken our seats at the front table, by the big window overlooking the highway. “Just because we don’t know his motive doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one,” I said. “It’s possible that he called her out onto the balcony from out in the yard. She walked out, and leaned over the rail, and
crash
!”

Cressida looked impressed, but Mr. Buttons seemed unmoved by my theory. “It’s possible, but I don’t know, I still just don’t buy it. Not unless you can give me a believable reason as to why a newly married man with buckets of money, a highly successful business, and everything he could possibly ask for, would risk it all away to kill the woman he had only just married.”

“Who knows?” said Cressida.

“Why else smoke outside instead of on the balcony though, that one day?” I said. “Surely that’s the pivotal question. We need to figure out if Greg was the actual target, or whether Lisa was the target.”

Cressida and Mr. Buttons looked at me. “How do we figure that out?” Mr. Buttons asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.”

 

Chapter 12
.

 

I was sitting in the main dining room with Cressida and Mr. Buttons. The three of us were sipping our English Breakfast tea and nibbling on cucumber sandwiches, perfectly cut into triangles.

Greg sat with us, but he was spending more time looking at his cup and playing with it than actually drinking from it. He slowly spun the cup around and around as it perched atop the table, stirring it with a spoon every once in a while.

“I’ll have to go back to Nathan’s Hardware for a trowel,” Cressida said out of nowhere.

Greg looked up from his tea cup. “Nathan’s Hardware?” he said. “If you ever need any supplies, I’d be happy to pick them up for you. Have you been there lately?”

I wondered why Greg was so focused on the hardware store all of a sudden. What’s he trying to hide? I wondered. The fact that he had bought a wrench?

“Yes,” Cressida said.

Greg simply nodded, before returning to stirring his cup.

“So, Greg, how’s everything going with the wilderness area and all that?” Mr. Buttons asked.

The man continued spinning his cup of tea and tuning out the world. Eventually, he looked up at Mr. Buttons and spoke slowly. “It’s been okay. We’re still dealing with those wilderness nuts, though. On a daily basis, it seems.” His tone held more than a hint of annoyance.

I was annoyed. I most certainly was opposed to his destruction of the wilderness area, but I could hardly say anything. After all, he was Cressida’s paying guest, and his wife had just died.

“Things will get better,” Cressida said. “Sometimes I can’t believe we’re still standing after everything we’ve been through. You just have to have hope, and trust that things will work out how they are supposed to. Whoever caused your wife’s demise will be punished. I know it.”

Greg rolled his eyes, a gesture I considered to be quite rude after Cressida’s kind words. He raised his cup and took a brief sip. He licked his upper lip and placed the cup down a little too hard. “I should probably head out soon. This construction site is monstrous, difficult, and full of protesters, so I might need an early start this morning.”

Just as he stood to his feet, Blake and Constable Andrews walked in.

“Good morning, everyone,” Blake said.

“What brings you here so early, Blake?” Cressida asked.

“I came by to see if Greg would mind accompanying us back to the station. We would like to discuss a few things about his wife’s murder case with him.”

Greg frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Will this take long?” he snapped. “I’ve been dragging my feet on the ground long enough because of this mess. I have work I need to get done so I can get back home and away from this circus.”

“Not long,” Blake said.

Greg shot him a dirty look, but rose from his chair and followed the officers out.

After they left, the three of us sat in silence for a few minutes.

“That was unexpected,” Mr. Buttons said.

Cressida nodded hard. “I thought they were arresting him at first.”

I agreed. “I thought so, too,” I said. “I wonder what they have to talk to him about, though. New evidence, maybe?”

“I’m confused,” Mr. Buttons said. “Maybe they found something that points in his direction.”

Cressida chuckled. “If that’s true, your Dorothy theory is out the window.”

“Maybe we should do some research,” I said, to forestall another tirade by Mr. Buttons as to Dorothy’s likelihood as a suspect.

“Like what?” asked Cressida. “Do you mean online?”

I bit my lip. “I meant that we should look up the wife’s past. If she was the intended murder victim, then we need to find out if she had any enemies.”

“Good idea, Sibyl.” Mr. Buttons nodded. “Perhaps Lisa knew Dorothy a long time ago. We might uncover a motive for Dorothy.”

“Or perhaps we’ll find out why Greg would want to hurt Lisa,” Cressida added.

I shook my head. “Greg seems the obvious suspect, except for one important thing. There’s no motive.”

“I’ll get my laptop.” With that, Mr. Buttons left the room, leaving us to consume cucumber sandwiches and lukewarm tea.

Mr. Buttons soon returned with his laptop. He booted it up, and Cressida and I looked over his shoulder.

“Hmm,” Mr. Buttons said. “It seems to suggest that Lisa is actually just as wealthy as Greg is. So, that rules out money as a motive, and he has plenty of it himself, doesn’t he?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said. I was already bored. I was sure we wouldn’t turn up anything of use.

“Well, this is odd,” Mr. Buttons remarked, after what seemed an age.

“What?” I said, looking at Cressida, who seemed to have zoned out, too.

“Barbara and James Madison, Lisa’s parents. Hmm, now that’s interesting.”

“And?” Cressida prompted.

Mr. Buttons paused to dab at a spot on the screen with his handkerchief. “Okay, it looks like the Madisons are in business with Greg’s parents. They’re in Europe. Oh yes, Greg said that’s why the funeral was delayed. Hmm.”

“Why is that interesting?” Cressida asked. I was thinking the same thing.

Mr. Buttons did not reply. He was diligently at work scrolling through countless URLs. I was thinking up an excuse to leave when Mr. Buttons leaned over and peered at the screen. “Lisa had a will.”

“Okay, here it is. Hold on.” Mr. Buttons stared at the screen, his eyes darting left and right over and over. “Oh no, it wasn’t anything.”

“So basically, we’re back where we started?” Cressida said, in a strained voice.

Mr. Buttons nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Okay, so let’s go over what we know and what we don’t,” I said. “We know that Greg is very wealthy. We also know now that Lisa was wealthy too, before the marriage. So, I think it’s safe to say that the money motive just doesn’t fit into this puzzle.”

“And they were only married for a short time,” Mr. Buttons said. “Why even marry Lisa in the first place if he didn’t want to? Sure, people change their minds and want a divorce, but not days after the wedding.”

“Wait,” I said. “What if he didn’t want to get married at all? If their parents are good friends and business partners, wouldn’t it make sense that the marriage was arranged?”

Mr. Buttons looked at me strangely. “Who in Australia has an arranged marriage? I really don’t think their marriage was arranged, and even if it was, I think saying no is a much better tool to get out of it than murder.”

“You never know with those high society types though,” Cressida said.

I sighed. “I didn’t mean an arranged marriage as such. I meant that their parents might’ve put pressure on both of them. Perhaps it was expected of them both from an early age and they just fell into it.” I sighed again. “Really, I don’t have a clue. You know what they say, money and love are the usual motives for murder, and I can’t see how Lisa’s murder fits either.”

Cressida sighed. “We’re back where we started from.” Mr. Buttons agreed, and then took his coins out of his wallet and polished them.

BOOK: A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4)
4.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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