Murder Most Persuasive (23 page)

“What’s going on here?” asked a voice. It was Scott. He was standing in the doorway, staring at Frances in confusion.

Frances whirled around. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Bonnie and I were just having a disagreement. But it’s fine now.”

“A disagreement about what?” he asked.

“Bonnie claims to have heard you and Michael fighting at Dad’s Fourth of July party,” she said. “I merely told her that she is mistaken and …
encouraged
her not to repeat the story.”

Scott’s brows drew together. He glanced doubtfully at Bonnie. “You heard me fight with Michael?”

“She
thinks
she did, Scott,” Frances said. “But she’s wrong. You were with me all night. I will swear to that in court if I have to.”

“Frances, just stop for a minute.” Scott held up a large hand. Turning back to Bonnie, he said, “Bonnie, I don’t have any memory of fighting with Michael, but considering that I was drinking back then that’s not too surprising. Sadly, there are a lot of evenings I don’t remember. What did you hear?” Scott’s face held an expression of sincere befuddlement. If he did remember the fight with Michael, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

Finally, Bonnie said, “You and Michael were on the patio at the end of the night. Michael was saying terrible things to you about his being chosen over you to run the company. You were pretty angry.”

Scott’s forehead bunched in concentration as he tried to search his brain for the memory. Eventually he shook his head in defeat. “I vaguely remember talking to him, but that’s all. I didn’t like him—well, to be perfectly blunt, I thought he was an asshole. But I don’t remember the fight.”

“That’s because it
didn’t
happen,” interjected Frances. “If I remember correctly, Bonnie, you were drinking wine that night. I wasn’t, because I was still nursing the twins. Who’s to say that you didn’t imagine it, dream it, or that your memory is just faulty?”

“Frances! This is absurd. I am not making this up and I certainly wasn’t drunk. I saw them fighting and overheard what they said. I’m not saying it means anything; it’s just a simple statement of fact,” Bonnie cried.

“A fact that is
wrong
. Scott came upstairs with me that night. He was never alone with Michael.”

“Frances, that’s not true,” said Scott. “You did go up before me. I did sit outside with Michael and talk. I do remember that much.”

Frances smiled—not very nicely—and said, “No, Scott. You are forgetting that I was there when you talked to Michael. And then we went to bed. Together. You were with me for the rest of the night. You had been drinking too much, which was why I insisted that you go to bed.”

Suddenly Scott looked down at his right hand in remembrance. “My hand,” he said quietly. Looking up at Frances, he repeated, “My hand. The next morning there was a cut on it. You told me that I cut it on a glass I dropped. Is that true?”

Frances flushed slightly but gave a curt nod. “Of course it’s true. You dropped a glass in the bathroom. You cut yourself when you tried to clean it up.”

No one spoke. Scott looked from Frances to Bonnie, clearly upset and confused. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” Scott said. “I don’t remember fighting with Michael—that’s the truth. But I don’t see how Bonnie has any reason to lie about it either. However, no matter what happened, I can’t believe that I could have been involved in Michael’s disappearance.”

“That’s because you weren’t,” Frances said firmly. Turning to Bonnie, she said, “And if anyone else suggests otherwise, they are not only wrong but skating on very thin ice.”

The rest of us stood very still. My mind was racing. Obviously Frances was lying to cover for Scott. The question was, was she lying because she knew Scott hadn’t done anything, or because she knew he had? No one spoke for a minute, all of us lost in the same unspoken thought. As Lady Macbeth might opine, Scott was too full of the milk of human kindness to kill Michael. Conversely, Frances would be the type to screw her courage to the sticking place and do the dirty deed.

Rather than dredging up additional pithy Shakespeare quotes (you’re welcome), I focused on a new thought: in giving Scott a solid alibi for that night, she was also giving herself one. That thought triggered a far-flung memory, but before I could catch it, it faded away.

“What do you take me for?” Bonnie now asked Frances with a faint smile. “I’m not going to mention it to the police. But even if I did, I don’t see what the harm would be. So what if Scott fought with Michael? I don’t how see how that affects the family.”

“It’s a problem because his body was buried underneath the pool’s foundation, Bonnie! And construction on the pool began the day after the Fourth of July party, on the fifth,” Ann added unnecessarily. But then again, maybe it was necessary; after all, she was talking to Bonnie. “Michael had to have been buried a day or so after the party.”

“But we’d all left the house by then and we didn’t go back…” Bonnie abruptly stopped. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, something clicked. She’d remembered the fight with Uncle Marty and her self-imposed exile to St. Michaels. Honestly, you couldn’t ask for a more obvious example of someone Remembering Something Important than the procession of expressions that moved across Bonnie’s face. First her brows pulled together in deep concentration. Then they cleared, leading the way to a widening of the eyes. This was followed by lips forming a small “o.” Finally, her eyes narrowed, first into an angry slant and then shifting into more of a sly gaze. Yes, people, Bonnie knew something! The question was (as was usually the question with matters concerning Bonnie’s intellect): exactly
what
did she know?

“Bonnie?” I asked. “What is it? Have you remembered something?”

She did not answer right away. Finally she said, “No, but I just remembered that I went back out to the house after the party. I was there for a day or so. I must have been there when…” She fell silent, pressing a delicate hand to her mouth in apparent anguish. She turned large blue eyes to Julian. “Why, to think that I might have been there when he was killed! Oh, how terrible! Just to think that I might have been killed,
too,
if I’d seen anything! Why, it makes me almost dizzy!”

Julian extended his perfectly manicured hand to hers and made soft noises, which I gathered were supposed to soothe the distraught Bonnie. I don’t know what it did for her; all it did for me was set my teeth on edge. Finally he murmured, “You poor, poor dear. How much more can a person take? It’s quite unbelievable. But you’re safe now.”

Bonnie granted him a misty smile. “But still, if I
had
seen something, how different things might be now. There’d be none of this confusion and uncertainty. The police would know who the killer was and we’d be fine. Oh, I don’t know how I can ever forgive myself. It’s going to take a lot, I can tell you that. I feel as if I’ve let everyone down! But most of all I feel as if I’ve let down my poor Marty!”

Aunt Winnie studied Bonnie, a curious expression on her face. “Bonnie, what the hell are you talking about? If you didn’t see anything while you were at the house, then you didn’t see anything. However, if you did, then you need to tell the police.”

Bonnie shook her blond head vigorously. “But that’s just the problem. I
didn’t
see anything. And I feel just terrible about it because I
should
have.”

“There’s no use regretting the past, my dear,” said Julian. “What matters now is the future. And I can see from your aura that your future is bright. As I promised you earlier, I’m going to help you make sure of it.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, may I ask?” asked Laura. Miles stood next to her, his face etched with disgust. Although the twins were playing a game of tag around his legs, I doubted this was the reason for his dour expression.

Julian turned her way. Again, he appeared to try to look modest. Again, he failed. To be fair, it is hard to appear modest while ensconced from head to toe in expensive and deliberately wrinkled linen and smoking a preposterously tiny cigarette. “I don’t know if Bonnie mentioned to you that I am something of a whiz with investments,” he said. “I am going to make sure that your charming mother—”

“Stepmother,” interjected Reggie.

“Charming
step
mother,” Julian amended with a discreet nod, “is set for life. She shall never want for money or my friendship.” Taking Bonnie’s hand in his, he bestowed it with a small kiss.

Behind me someone gagged. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Aunt Winnie has a distinctive gag.

“Speaking of this plan for investment,” said Reggie, “there are a few things I think that we need to discuss. First and foremost, exactly what money are you investing? There’s a rather large sum from the sale of the house on St. Michaels that is due to us. Some of us are counting on that income.”

Bonnie waved aside Reggie’s words. “Darling, you don’t need to worry about that. I was going to surprise you with this later, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

“Surprise us with what?” Reggie asked, her voice hard.

“With your present. Julian is going to invest it all for us—everything! He promises that he can practically double it, maybe even triple it! Isn’t that too marvelous?”

From the horrified faces around me, it was clear that “marvelous” wasn’t their word of choice. But before the inevitable explosion of anger and disbelief erupted, there was another explosion of sorts—a tremendous splash.

We all looked to the pool to see Miles sputtering in the water. His glasses were askew and his blue blazer and khaki trousers were completely soaked. On the ledge in front of him, grinning evilly like twin Damiens, stood Thing One and Thing Two.

CHAPTER 22

We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured.

—
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

O
F COURSE,
the first words heard were Frances’s. “Caden and Cameron!” she cried in obvious distress. Any hope that she was going to finally follow through with a much-deserved punishment on the twins was dashed with her follow-up of, “Are you all right? I told you not to run near the pool’s edge! Neither of you have passed your swim test! You might have drowned!”

Laura ran over to help Miles, who was still spitting out pool water. Ann dashed inside to grab a towel.

Scott, thankfully, saw things a little more realistically than Frances. Truth be told, Scott was better with the boys than Frances was. He just seldom exerted himself to contradict Frances. Marching over to the twins, he grabbed each by the hand and yanked them away from the pool’s edge. “Now look what you’ve done!” he admonished sternly, bending low so as to make eye contact with their sullen faces. “How many times were you warned not to run about? Now you’ve pushed Uncle Miles into the pool. Apologize immediately!”

“But Daddy!” cried Cameron/Thing One. “I didn’t push him! He just fell.”

“Cameron! Apologize!”

“But I didn’t push him!” came the screeching reply.

“Don’t blame it on me!” cried his brother Caden/Thing Two.

Frances moved to where Scott stood. “Scott, don’t yell at them!” she screamed angrily and with unintentional irony. “Yelling doesn’t solve anything!”

As she unclasped the boys’ hands from Scott’s, she said to the boys, “No one is blaming anyone. You both just need to settle down, that’s all. I suspect you’ve had too much sugar.” She glared at Scott as if this was somehow his fault. Then turning to Miles, she said, “I am sorry, Miles. I hope you’re all right.”

Shaking beads of water from his body like a wet dog, Miles nodded. “I’ll be fine.” Turning to Laura, he said, “I’m going to run home and change. I’ll just be a few minutes.” Ann returned with a towel. Taking it with a grateful smile, Miles wiped his face and then his glasses dry.

“Do you want me to come with you?” offered Laura.

“No, you stay here,” replied Miles as he headed out the door. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Sensing that the sentiment of the group was against her and the twins, Frances said, “You two need to apologize to Uncle Miles when he gets back.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” they cried in unison. Frances rolled her eyes heavenward and smiled wanly at the rest of us. “Lord,” she said, “but I can’t wait until this phase of ‘I’m Always Innocent’ is over. But you know how boys are.”

No one replied and I wondered what came after the “I’m Always Innocent” phase. Not having read Dr. Spock, I didn’t know. Was there a subsequent “I Was Framed” phase? Perhaps followed by the “Petty Crimes and Misdemeanors” phase? Was there a “Felony” phase? If there was, the twins were certainly going to excel.

The silence grew awkward. Finally, in a clear attempt to break the tension, Peter said, “Why don’t I get the steaks started?”

“Perfect idea,” agreed Ann. “I’ll go get them for you,” she added as she ducked back into the kitchen. Scott advanced on his children, for once appearing not to care what Frances thought of his disciplinary philosophy. Grabbing both of them by the hand again, he said, “Both of you are coming inside with me for a well-deserved time-out!”

Although the boys (not to mention Frances) protested against this outrage (Frances loudest of all), Scott remained firm and dragged them into the house. Frances followed, protesting that children need firm yet gentle handling and that time-outs weren’t always effective.

With their retreat, the atmosphere calmed a little but not completely. There still was the matter of Bonnie’s announcement hanging in the air.

Reggie was the first to reopen the subject. “Listen here, Bonnie. You can do what you want with
your
money, but I will not let you throw away mine.”

Bonnie affected a look of confusion. “Darling, why are you so upset? Julian is a whiz at investing. I’m doing this for you!”

Reggie clenched her hands at her sides. “I don’t want him to.”

Bonnie shrugged and gave a light laugh. “Oh, but then, even as a child, you never wanted to do what was best for you. If I remember correctly, you didn’t want to take swimming lessons either. My how you fussed and kicked, but aren’t you glad you took them now?”