The Good Girl's Guide to Murder (32 page)

Mother.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, as Janet guided the VW into the parking lot.

“Hey, sweetie, mind if I ask where you are?” Only the most seasoned expert could have picked up on the slight rise in her smooth-as-silk drawl, a subtle signal of inward panic.

“We’re in front of my condo . . .”

“
Well, get in your car and get down here this instant
,” she lowered her voice to a hiss, no longer bothering to hide her nerves. “Marilee’s lawyer dropped in, the deputy chief is back, Gilbert Mabry showed up on my doorstep demanding his daughter go home with him, and Kendall’s refusing to talk to anyone.”

“Where’s Sandy?” I asked.

“She’s visiting her mother at the Blue Belle Home for the Aged like she does the third Sunday of every month, Andrea, for goodness’ sake.”

“Geez, I forgot, okay?” I glanced at Janet, who was watching me with interest. “I’ll be right there. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Make it fifteen,” Mother said and disconnected.

Yes, ma’am
.

I slipped the phone into my purse, unhooked myself from the belt, and reached for the door.

“Anything I should know about?” Janet asked as I pushed on the handle and let in the noon heat.

“Just Cissy, freaking out,” I said and rolled my eyes. “She’s got a mouse trapped under the refrigerator. She’s scared to come down from a chair. So I’ve gotta run down there and rescue it before she calls an exterminator to annihilate the poor thing.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked skeptical.

“Well, it’s been a real, um, trip,” I said and closed the door, giving her a wave from the other side of the window.

Before she’d even backed out of the space, I rushed over to my Jeep and hopped in, though I waited until the Jetta disappeared from the parking lot before I put her in gear and peeled rubber all the way to Beverly.

C
issy must’ve been watching for me out the window, as she appeared on the doorstep, waving impatiently as I parked behind a pair of squad cars, a red Lexus, and the Mercedes with the vanity plates that I knew belonged to Dr. Taylor. If the media had been swarming earlier, the police had done a brilliant job of dispersing them. I’d only spotted one television van with a satellite on its roof settled across the street.

“Thank God you’re here!” As soon as I was near enough, Mother—appropriately funereal in black silk top and pants—caught my arm and drew me into the foyer. “I was beginning to think you’d never arrive.”

Though it had taken no more than fifteen minutes—as she’d demanded—and involved my tearing through a couple yellow lights and traveling a wee bit over the speed limit.

“They’re all having tea and cookies in the sunroom,” she leaned near to inform me as she ushered me through the front hallway, away from the cordoned-off living room and toward the rear of the house. “I finally got Kendall to dress and come downstairs.”

“How’s she doing?” I asked.

Cissy made a face. “She hasn’t eaten a thing, even refusing Sandy’s chocolate chip pancakes. I think she’d stay in bed with the drapes drawn all day if I’d let her. Poor child. Someone from Twinkle Productions phoned to say they’re shutting down the studio for a while, until they figure out what to do. I took the call when Kendall wouldn’t. They said they’re arranging a memorial service for the crew to attend, so they can have some kind of closure.”

I couldn’t blame them for locking up the studio. They had no cause to rush repairs, not since taping was suspended indefinitely. I wondered if they could save
The Sweet Life
without Marilee, or if they’d have to shut down forever.

“You said Marilee’s lawyer was here?”

“Yes, about an hour ago.” Her footsteps faltered, and she stood still, her brow settling into a half-dozen creases. “I’m apparently the executrix of Marilee’s estate,” she said, and I couldn’t stop my mouth from hanging open. “I don’t imagine there were many people she trusted, and I’m just thankful that Justin Gable didn’t talk her into putting him in charge of her affairs before she died. Because she had talked about changing her will in the last few weeks, giving that con man a share of her assets, babbling on about how he reenergized her sex life, for pity’s sake. Thank heavens she didn’t get around to doing it.”

“She didn’t leave him anything?”

“As a matter of fact, she didn’t, not in the will, anyway. He’ll get nothing more than what she’d already given him, like the car, new clothes, watches, and what not.” She frowned and touched the gold bauble clipped on her earlobe. “Mari’s bequests are quite simple, really. Basically, all of her worldly goods go to her surviving heir, which would be Kendall, naturally.”

Or not.

“Oh, God,” came out of my mouth before I realized that I’d said it.

Mother stopped fiddling with her earring and eyed me strangely. “What is it Andrea? Do you have something to say on the subject?”

“No, I mean, yes.”

Rats
.

With a sigh, I hurriedly confessed to what had gone on at the Pecan Grove Retirement Home in Gunner, Texas.

Cissy frowned, but didn’t interrupt. Though, when I’d finished, she quietly asked, “Are you sure this old woman’s brain wasn’t addled?”

“She was as coherent as you or I.” Though maybe that wasn’t saying much.

Mother hesitated, putting a finger to her lips before declaring, “I can’t believe Marilee never breathed a word of this. I never imagined she had another child. And it’s Beth Taylor’s girl, Renata? Who’s actually her niece by blood?”

It sounded like a soap opera, putting it that way.

“There’ll be DNA tests, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But, yes, I believe it. It fits, don’t you see?”

My mother sighed. “I wish now that I hadn’t talked to Kendall already about her mother’s will, but I figured she’d learn soon enough, what with the formal reading being tomorrow afternoon.”

“You’re right. She has no clue she’s not the sole surviving heir,” I said

“Oh, dear,” Cissy breathed. “What a mess. Marilee has another daughter,” she repeated, as if saying it again made it real. Then she clutched at my arm. “Does Beth realize who Renata’s birth mother was?”

“She must.” It didn’t make sense any other way. “I’ve got a feeling that’s why they moved to Dallas, to find Marilee.”

I thought of how Dr. Taylor had slipped up at the hospital when Kendall was admitted, saying, “
since her daughters have been positively diagnosed
” before correcting herself, claiming weariness for the mistake. Only it hadn’t been a mistake. She had known the truth but she’d kept it to herself.

“What about Renata?”

“I’d guess she knows, too.”

“So Kendall’s the only one out of the loop?”

I nodded.

“Well, then we have to remedy the situation,” Cissy said, her normally placid expression showing strain. “It seems as good a time as any to tell Kendall she has a sister. Better she hear it now than read about it on the front page of the
Park Cities Press
. You did say Janet was doing a feature?”

“A three-part series.” And a book, I would’ve added, but I had crossed my heart and sworn not to tell.

“You okay, sweetie?” she peered into my face. “You look green.”

That’s exactly how I felt. Kermit had nothing on me.

“I’m fine,” I assured her. I’d been saying that a lot lately and not meaning it. One of those little white lies that nobody counted.

“Then let’s get this over with, shall we?” She tucked her hand in the crook of my elbow and propelled me the rest of the distance to the sunroom. Her heels clicked staccato-sharp on the tiles. My sneakers squeaked as I dragged my feet, wincing at the thought of what—and who—awaited us.

Heads turned as we entered, and I surveyed the group that had gathered at Mother’s, rather like the cast of characters attending the Mad Hatter’s tea party. Though no one seemed to be doing much sipping. The cups looked full, the plate of cookies untouched. With all the poisoning going on, I couldn’t blame them.

Deputy Chief Anna Dean stood by the windows overlooking Mother’s roses.

Dr. Taylor and Renata sat side by side on the wicker sofa.

Kendall Mabry curled on the chaise longue, hair tied in a ragged ponytail, wearing a robe borrowed from my mother, pink silk with an embroidered
C
at her right breast.

Behind her, Gilbert Mabry leaned against the wall, arms crossed, bland features puckered with distress.

The notable missing player from this drama was Justin Gable. I assumed, by his absence, that he was still on the lam. I wondered just how far he’d been able to run without his passport.

I figured that’s why the second in command of the Highland Park police had made an appearance at Mother’s house on Sunday noon, doubtless to give us an update on Justin’s whereabouts.

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Kendricks,” the deputy chief said and gave me the thinnest of smiles.

“I was out of town this morning,” I said by way of apology, though I didn’t know why I should feel guilty for being late to this impromptu gathering. “Hello.” I nodded at Beth and Renata. Gil Mabry squinted at me, ostensibly trying to figure out who I was. Did he even recall running into me at the studio yesterday after his and Marilee’s shouting match?

My gaze settled on Kendall. “Are you okay?” I mouthed.

She bit her bottom lip, fighting tears. I could hardy believe what the past twenty-four hours had done to the tough-as-brass girl. She looked as miserable as any human could. Probably wishing she’d fought less with her mother. Probably wishing for a lot of things she couldn’t have.

I took a step toward her, but Mother kept hold of my arm, resigning me to a position near the French doors. Which might not be too bad should I need to make a quick escape.

“Andrea has something she’d like to share,” Cissy said to the room at large. “It’s important . . .”

The deputy chief cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d like to get a word in first.”

Mother gave her the floor, much to my relief.

Anna Dean hooked her thumbs in her utility belt and moved in from the window. “I had promised y’all I’d keep you informed on what the preliminary reports told us about what happened to Marilee Mabry. So that’s why I’m here.” She squared her shoulders, looking very much like a petite General Patton. “We’ve compared initial toxicity results to what Dr. Taylor and the hospital lab found in your bloodstream, Ms. Mabry.” Her chin jerked toward Kendall. “And it appears that there was a foreign substance added to the recipe for the Death by Chocolate which Marilee Mabry consumed.”

“Ma huang,” I said without thinking, and the deputy chief glanced at me.

“Yes, that exactly. A highly potent form of ephedra, yes, in a toxic dosage,” she explained. “And we’ve matched the chemical composition with a bottle of liquid ma huang found among Justin Gable’s belongings, left behind at the Mabry house.”

“Justin killed my mother?” Kendall’s hand went to her throat, and I could see in her face that she didn’t believe it. “No, there’s no way.”

“We’ve got corroborating statements from the crew of
The Sweet Life
that Mr. Gable was in the kitchen while the cake was being prepared. So, yes, he is our prime suspect,” the deputy chief said and added, “We’ve issued a warrant for his arrest, and I’ve put out an APB on his BMW, as of this morning. We’ll have him in custody soon, I’ll wager. We’ve got the city police and the state troopers in on this, too.”

“Oh, my God,” Kendall breathed.

“Don’t fret, Ms. Mabry, please,” Anna Dean said, lowering her voice. “So far as I understand it, no one but family knows you’re here, so you’re safe for the time being. I’ve got a squad car keeping an eye on your mother’s house around the clock, in case he returns to pick up that passport of his. In fact, I’m heading over there next, to check out a call from the caretaker.”

“The caretaker?” Kendall curled her fingers beneath her chin and stared at the policewoman, her eyes wide as pennies. “Is it the animals?”

“Just something fishy in, er, the catfish pond.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the pond . . . nothing wrong. Why can’t you just leave it alone? Why can’t this all just go away? I want to go back.” Kendall’s voice shook, and I saw the way she dug her nails into the flesh of her hands. She would draw blood if she kept that up. “Please,” she whispered to no one, “let me go back.”

“It’d be better if you stayed here, Ms. Mabry,” the policewoman insisted, but I had a feeling that’s not what Kendall meant. She wanted to go back in time, before her mother passed away, before Justin took off and left her.

Back
.

I took a step toward her; but Cissy held on to my arm.

“You’re right, it might be nothing,” the deputy chief went on. “The groundskeeper noticed an oily substance on the surface of the pond this morning. A few of the fish were floaters, so he’s worried about contamination. He thinks it could be vandalism. We’ll see if we can’t figure out whether maybe someone pitched a gas can in there or rolled an oil drum. He figures the tractor may’ve been used. There are tracks leading up to the edge.”

Kendall moaned.

My first thought was Justin. What if he was lurking around, angry enough to sabotage Marilee’s property?

The girl must’ve figured that, too, as I noticed the gleam of sweat on her face, worry pinching her features.

“You think that’s all it is, right? Vandalism?” I piped up, hoping to reassure Kendall that it could be as simple as a prank, teenaged mischief.

“Like I’ve said before, Ms. Kendricks”—Anna Dean shot me a narrow smile—“I don’t like to jump to conclusions. We’ll take a look at the pond and figure out . . .”

“Enough about the pond, for heaven’s sake!” My mother’s voice cut across the room, stunning the rest of us to silence. “There’s a killer running loose, and you’re worried about catfish?” Cissy pointed—actually pointed—at the deputy chief. I’m sure Emily Post rolled over in her grave. “The boy poisoned a cake . . . an entire cake that I nearly ate . . . that my friends could have eaten. He could’ve killed us all, and you’re concerned about a few dead fish?”

Anna Dean shifted her steely gaze in Cissy’s direction. “From what the lab tells me, Mrs. Kendricks, the level of ephedra wouldn’t have done in a healthy human being with no cardiac risks. But Marilee Mabry had a congenital heart arrhythmia, like her daughter. Mr. Gable had specifically targeted her, not you or your friends.”