The Unkindest Cut (11 page)

I added a generous amount of sugar, stirred it in, then gave Paula back her coffee. She sipped at it. ‘‘Oh, that’s good. I’m feeling warmer already.’’

I didn’t reply. I watched her as I sipped at my own coffee. Caffeine on an upset stomach probably wasn’t the best idea, but at least my headache ebbed away as I drank.

I was surprised at Paula. Frankly, I had been expecting all kinds of histrionics over the murder of her husband. But perhaps she was relieved he was out of the way, and was afraid of giving that away if she said anything. She was hard to figure out.

‘‘What’s going on next door? Is that why you didn’t come down to breakfast?’’ Sophie had walked into the room without my hearing her—I had been so intent on Paula.

Sophie approached the bar and thrust a Styrofoam container at me. ‘‘I brought you some breakfast,’’ she said. She settled on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘‘Now, tell me what’s going on.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ I said as I accepted the food. I opened the container and glanced inside. Biscuits and sausage, plus a couple of small cinnamon buns. Good. Those I could deal with. If Sophie had brought me scrambled eggs—I shuddered at the thought. I clamped the top down and answered Sophie’s question.

‘’Avery Trowbridge has been murdered,’’ I said, keeping my voice low. ‘‘I found the body.’’

‘‘Ohmigod,’’ Sophie said, paling. ‘‘I figured it had to be something pretty serious. They didn’t want to let me pass by them, and when I asked them why, they wouldn’t answer. I finally talked them into it, saying I needed to look after a sick friend. Plus I showed them my room key. I guess I finally wore them down, although it probably only took about three minutes.’’

A knock sounded at the door before I could reply to her. Sophie slid off the stool and went to the door. ‘‘Who is it?’’ she called.

‘‘Sheriff’s department,’’ was the answer.

Sophie opened the door and stepped back to let someone enter.

Actually, it was two someones—a tall, broad-shouldered, heavyset man and a woman whose height matched his. He looked to be in his fifties, while the woman was about twenty years younger. Both were in uniform, and I could hear the leather they wore creaking as they walked into the room.

‘‘I’m Deputy Ainsworth, and this is Deputy Jordan, ’’ the man announced. ‘‘I’m in charge of the investigation. ’’ He paused a moment to look from Sophie to Paula and finally to me. ‘‘I understand one of you ladies found the body.’’

‘‘Yes, that was me,’’ I said, coming around the minibar and standing close to where Sophie stood. ‘‘I’m Emma Diamond. This is my friend Sophie Parker. And the lady on the couch is Paula Trowbridge, Mrs. Avery Trowbridge.’’

Deputy Ainsworth stared at Paula for a moment. ‘‘That’s your husband in there.’’ It wasn’t really a question.

Paula nodded. She tried to speak but couldn’t. She took a sip of her coffee and tried again. ‘‘Yes, Deputy, Avery was my husband.’’

‘‘Sorry for your loss, ma’am.’’ The deputy’s voice was gruff, almost raspy. He sounded like a heavy smoker.

Ainsworth focused on me again. ‘‘Ms. Diamond,’’ he began.

‘‘Mrs. Diamond,’’ I corrected him. ‘‘I’m a widow.’’ He had an odd look on his face as he regarded me.

The deputy nodded. ‘‘Mrs. Diamond, I need to get a statement from you. Would you mind stepping out in the hall with me?’’

‘‘Not at all, Deputy. Do you mind if I bring my coffee with me?’’

‘‘Go right ahead, ma’am.’’ He moved to the door and held it open. ‘‘Jordan will stay here with the other ladies. I’d appreciate it if y’all didn’t talk about the incident until I’ve had a chance to question you separately.’’

Sophie and Paula nodded.

I stepped into the hallway, and Deputy Ainsworth closed the door behind us. He guided me to the large window at the end of the hall. He stood with his back to the window; I faced it. The sun coming through the glass was warm, and it felt good. Despite the coffee, I was still a little cold. Perhaps I was suffering a bit from shock.

Behind me I could hear the low hum of conversation coming from Avery Trowbridge’s room, along with other noises. I was glad I had my back to it all. I really didn’t want to see anything else that was taking place in that room. I shuddered and took another sip of coffee.

Ainsworth was watching me with that same enigmatic expression. ‘‘Mrs. Diamond, I’d like you to tell me what happened this morning. How you came to find the body. Take your time.’’

Clasping my mug with both hands, I thought for a moment before speaking. ‘‘I was on my way down to breakfast. It was a few minutes before eight, I think. Anyway, my friend Sophie Parker had gone down ahead of me, and I was going to join her.’’ I paused for a breath. ‘‘I was walking down the hall, and when I neared Mr. Trowbridge’s room, I suppose I noticed the pieces of paper taped to his door.’’

When I didn’t go on immediately, Ainsworth prompted me. ‘‘They look like a schedule of some kind.’’

I nodded. ‘‘Yes, Mr. Trowbridge is, er, was a famous bridge player and teacher. He was giving lessons, beginning this morning. I had signed up for the first slot at nine. I guess I was curious, so I stopped to peruse the schedule, and I could see that it was pretty full.’’ I stopped for a deep breath and another sip of coffee.

‘‘That was when I noticed the door ever so slightly ajar. Plus there was an odd smell coming from the room.’’ For a moment, I could smell it again, but I stuck the mug under my nose and inhaled the aroma of coffee instead.

Ainsworth regarded me sympathetically. ‘‘What did you do next?’’

‘‘I pushed the door open,’’ I said. ‘‘With my shoulder. ’’ I shrugged. ‘‘I sensed something was wrong, and I didn’t want to touch anything.’’

The deputy frowned. I waited for him to comment, but he simply gestured for me to continue.

‘‘I walked into the room, and of course the smell was a lot a stronger there. I started looking around, and then I saw that someone was slumped in the chair in the corner. I took a few steps toward the chair, and I could see flies buzzing around. And the smell.’’ I closed my eyes, and it all came back to me.

I must have looked like I was going to faint, because Ainsworth put a steadying hand on my arm.

‘‘I’m okay,’’ I said, and opened my eyes. The deputy dropped his arm.

‘‘Tell me what you saw.’’

I stared past Ainsworth, focusing on the trees outside. ‘’Avery Trowbridge was in the chair, and there was a knife protruding from his chest. There was also a fair amount of blood.’’ I paused. ‘‘I guess that means he didn’t die for a while. That’s right, isn’t it? The heart had to be beating, pumping blood, because once the heart stopped, so would the flow of blood.’’

Ainsworth’s expression would have been funny under other circumstances.

‘‘I read a lot of mystery novels,’’ I explained, a bit on the defensive. ‘‘You can pick up a lot of interesting information that way.’’

The deputy nodded. ‘‘So I’ve heard.’’ He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘‘What else did you see?’’

‘‘Cards were laid out on the table, as if there was a bridge game in progress,’’ I said. ‘‘And Trowbridge had one card in his hand.’’

‘‘Did you see what it was?’’

‘‘The queen of diamonds,’’ I said.

Ainsworth nodded. He had that odd look on his face again. ‘‘I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone else what you saw. Of course, people will know you found the body, but I’m asking you not to give details of what you saw to anyone.’’

‘‘I understand,’’ I said. ‘‘I won’t say anything.’’ I watched him watching me. The coincidence of my name and the card clutched in the dead man’s hand had disconcerted him somehow. And I knew why.

I had learned from my extensive reading of mystery fiction that the police often suspected the person who found the body. Given that, along with my last name and the card in the corpse’s hand, it was no wonder that Deputy Ainsworth was looking at me with suspicion.

That in turn made me start to wonder whether the card had any significance. Was it simply the card Trowbridge was holding when he was stabbed, and in his death throes he held on to it?

Or did he pick up the card after he had been stabbed, intending to leave some kind of clue to the identity of his killer? I knew already, by the amount of blood I had seen, that he hadn’t died immediately. He could have had time to pick up a card from the table before he died.

It seemed outlandish, and yet I thought it was at least possible.

‘‘What did you do next?’’ Ainsworth’s voice broke into my train of thought.

‘‘I was about to leave the room to call the authorities, ’’ I said. ‘‘But then Mrs. Trowbridge—Paula, that is—came into the room and spoke from behind me. I didn’t want her to see her husband lying there murdered, so I got her out of the room as quickly as I could.’’

‘‘So you don’t think she saw anything?’’

‘‘I’m not completely certain, but I was standing in the way of her view of the body. She resisted me a little, because I’m sure she thought I was acting like a lunatic. But I got her out of the room into the hall, and then into my suite next door.’’ I drained the last of my coffee from the mug and wished I could refill it.

‘‘I notified the hotel staff and told them they needed to call the authorities,’’ I said. ‘‘Then I realized that someone should probably keep an eye on the room. I had left the door wide open when I got Paula out of there, and I didn’t think it would be good for someone else to come along and wander inside.’’

Ainsworth was doing his best to keep his face blank, but once again I thought I could read his mind. If I were the killer, I would want time to get back in the room before the authorities arrived and do whatever it was I needed to do.

‘‘I didn’t go back in the room,’’ I said as calmly as I could, though I was getting a bit rattled, I must confess. ‘‘I was there only for a minute or two before Leonard, one of the hotel staff, arrived. I pulled the door shut as far as I could with my foot, and Leonard kept watch until you arrived. He promised he wouldn’t go in the room.’’

‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Diamond,’’ Ainsworth said. ‘‘You’ve been pretty clear in what you’ve told me. I’ll probably have more questions for you later.’’

I hesitated for a moment. Should I tell him about the voices I heard last night? Or would he simply think I was trying to give myself some sort of alibi by claiming to have heard someone else kill Avery Trowbridge?

Chapter 12

‘‘Is there something else you’d like to tell me?’’ Ainsworth’s eyes narrowed as he regarded me.

I sighed inwardly. Now I had little choice. ‘‘I heard something last night that might be relevant.’’

‘‘What was it?’’

‘‘It was while I was trying to go to sleep last night,’’ I said. ‘‘I was lying in bed, in kind of a hazy state. Not totally awake, and not quite asleep, either.’’

Ainsworth nodded, waiting for me to continue.

‘‘Well, while I was drifting off, I heard voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they talked for a while. At some point the voices got louder, but I still couldn’t really make out what they were saying. And then there was silence.’’

‘‘If these voices were real, and not just a part of some dream you were having,’’ Ainsworth said after a brief silence, ‘‘where were they coming from?’’

‘‘From Avery Trowbridge’s room, I’m pretty sure,’’ I answered. ‘‘My bed is next to the common wall between the two suites. There’s a large air vent in that wall, right by my bed, and there’s an air vent in the same place on the other side of the wall. I noticed it this morning. The voices must have come through there, but the sound was muffled, distorted even.’’

Ainsworth considered that for a moment. ‘‘We’ll have to check that out. But you’re sure you didn’t hear anything that the voices were saying?’’

‘‘No, none of it was distinct enough. There was just an abrupt silence when the voices stopped, and then I must have really gone to sleep.’’ I didn’t say that I now thought I probably overheard the murder taking place, even though I had no idea what was going on at the time.

‘‘And then, this morning, I thought I smelled something unpleasant through the vent.’’ I shuddered. ‘‘Now I know what it was.’’

The deputy stared at me without saying anything for what seemed an eternity. For a few moments there, I was convinced I was about to be hauled off to the sheriff’s department to be charged with murder. Alternatively, to the closest mental health facility.

‘‘How well did you know the victim?’’

Ainsworth’s question startled me a bit because it was not the response I was expecting. He actually should have asked me that earlier, and I wondered why he hadn’t.

‘‘I met him for the first time yesterday,’’ I said. ‘‘I’d never even heard of him until a few days ago.’’

‘‘How did you hear about him?’’

‘‘Through his wife, Paula Trowbridge.’’ I gestured toward my suite. ‘‘And I met her through a mutual friend, Marylou Lockridge, whom you met. Paula was visiting Marylou in Houston, and I’m Marylou’s next-door neighbor. Sophie Parker, my best friend, lives on the other side of me. I’ve known Sophie since she was a little girl. Sophie is here, too, sharing the bedroom with me. Marylou is in the other bedroom in the suite.’’

I forced myself to stop babbling, but Ainsworth’s intent gaze had disconcerted me. I imagined it was probably a technique he used to wring confessions out of criminals. It certainly had its effect on me, making me jabber like an idiot.

‘‘So you haven’t known Mrs. Trowbridge very long either,’’ Ainsworth stated.

‘‘No, only a few days.’’ I clamped my mouth shut after those few words. I wasn’t going to let my lips loose again.

‘‘What did you think of the victim?’’ Ainsworth continued to bore into me with his eyes. ‘‘You say you only met him yesterday, but you must have formed some kind of opinion of him.’’

I had to be careful what I said. At some point I would probably have to tell him the various things I had witnessed, but I didn’t think now was the proper time.