THE WITCH AND THE TEA PARTY (A Rachael Penzra Mystery) (23 page)

“A woman’s work is never
done,” I laughed, although I didn’t find the subject particularly amusing. I just wanted to close that path of thought off and get busy on the murder. “I hope you can help me with describing the people who were there the night Mrs. Brown-Hendricks died. You can give me some sort of an outsider’s view of them. Everybody seems to have different ideas.”

“People are always out for themselves, aren’t they?” She tightened her lips. “Well, I hope that can never be said about me. I was brought up to think about others first.”

“I guess it’s just survival instinct,” I responded. Why did she make me feel so defensive? “Even when we’re driving within the speed limit, we always slow down when we see a police car.”

“I don’t.”

Okay, skip the small talk and get down to business. “What do you think of the sisters?” I asked, probably picking them first because they’d just been over the night before.

“They’re both divorced,” t
he lips tightened again. “I imagine their husbands couldn’t stand the constant bickering.  A man has a right to a peaceful home when he gets back from work.”

“What do you know about Stella?
” I asked.

“She’s extremely pushy,” Helen said. “I actually overheard her asking Frances for a loan on
ce—only I don’t think she thought of it as a loan. It sounded as though she expected to be given it and not asked to repay it. Can you imagine? No wonder Brandon has a time keeping the books straight for the company. You wouldn’t believe the hours he puts in overtime. Sometimes I think she expected him to read her mind.”

“Did it sound as though she was
er… blackmailing Mrs. Brown-Hendricks about something?”

“Not really,” she said, but her eyes brightened at the idea. When would I learn to keep my mouth shut? “Of course it could have been that. She acted as though it was owed to her, if that makes any sense. Blackmailers would sound like that, wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it is interesting. What about her sister? Did you ever see anything like that with her?”

I could see how much she wished she had, but she conceded that the answer was no. “I would say that whatever one of them knew, the other one did, too. Otherwise why would they both get to stick around like that? I can’t imagine anybody liking them particularly.”

“They might be quite nice separately,” I found myself feeling defensive for the sisters, although I hadn’t found them in the least bit likable.

“And that Rita is another one who hung on Frances.” She was off on a thought of her own. “Some
distant relative, or so she claimed. I never noticed any particular friendliness between them, but of course Frances could be a bit difficult herself. She did like to snub people, to make them feel worthless. They were both interested in that nonsense about the paranormal. Of course we all knew it was silly, but it was always wiser to please Frances with her little interests.

“That boyfriend of Rita’s, Captain Hastings, could bear a little watching. I never trust those military men, and Brandon says the man’s a surviva
list, whatever that might be—someone who intends to kill off the rest of us if food gets scarce, or something. Stupidity, sheer stupidity. How could we run out of food? Take a look at our farms. They produce more food than we can use.”

I wasn’t about to get caught up in that sort of argument
, or even mention the Depression years of drought. Personally, I could easily imagine the world running out of food. I even kept a small hoard of non-perishables for short term emergencies. While I didn’t worry enough to make preparation, I did recognize the concept. “The idea does seem to appeal to a lot of people nowadays,” I said. “I understand he was a childhood friend of Nicholas’.”

“I had friends when I was a child, too,” she sounded scornful of any friendship that lasted into adulthood. “I moved on.”

“What do you think of Karen Powell and her brother?” I asked, again changing the subject. “They seem very devoted to each other.” I had no idea about that, but threw it out as bait.

“I’ve never noticed any sign of
devotion
,” she said. “He’s got a nice setup, living off his sister like he does. Not my idea of a man. Imagine a man letting a woman support him.

“And she lets him. She’s one of those women who need a man and will do anything to please them. She makes such a fool of herself, letting her brother leech off her, and also acting like a lovesick calf whenever Nicholas comes in sight. It’s disgusting to watch. And if she thinks he cares about her one way or another, she’s going to be sadly disillusioned.”

“I understand that she’s quite good at what she does,” I suggested, hoping to get a strong reaction. It worked.

“
Advertising!
” She made it sound like a step up, or maybe down, from prostitution. “There are millions out there just as good as she is. She won’t be hard to replace.”

I thought I’d asked her everything I
needed to. I was anxious to have her leave. She was one of those people who drag you down just by listening to them. I thanked her for her time, standing as a hint that she hit the road. She seemed just as happy to get out of there as I was to see her go.

“You can write out the recipe for those cookies,” she nodded toward the
ravaged plate on the table. She had tried a few bites of everything I put out there. “The chocolate ones. I might try them some day and see if Brandon likes them. He’s fond of chocolate.”

I promised her the recipe and escorted her out the door.

David joined me as soon as I signaled the all clear. “Wow, she is one critical woman. I wouldn’t give her the recipe if I were you. She’ll just take it and then complain about it.”

I laughed. “She can find it in half a dozen cook books that I know of. I’m really surprised that she condescended to approve of it. She took a taste of everything, apparently searching for anything that might appeal to her husband.
The dogs will be delighted with the leftovers. You’ll have to take half home for your dogs.”

“I guess it keeps her busy,” he said, sounding a little baffled. “I don’t suppose you’d reduce yourself to that state for me, would you?” He raised his eyebrows in hopeful questioning.

“Don’t bet your life on it,” I said, dryly. “Besides, if either of us is a gourmet cook, it’s you. I stick with plain and plentiful.”

“All we learned from her was that there might have been some blackmail involved by the Jasper woman.
I wish one of us had known them a little. These people are too anxious to throw each other to the wolves to be much help.” He smiled then, and drew me into his arms. “But at least she left early.”

We proceeded t
o take advantage of the fact—for all of two minutes. He heard the sound of my aunt’s footsteps before I did. “Here’s your aunt coming,” he grumbled and pulled away from me a little.

I sighed.

“Have you talked with Moondance yet?” I asked her when she got inside. It seemed like a natural subject, but Aunt Myrtle responded as though I’d attacked her.

“How on earth would we talk to her when she’s being held prisoner?”
she demanded indignantly.

“We were hoping that she would be free to communicate with you by now,” David soothed her. “Naturally we’re concerned.”

She allowed that he was right, but other than shaking her head in an ambiguous manner, she didn’t directly answer the question. In the future, I knew she would argue that the head shaking had simply been from tiredness, or a headache, and not meant to be a response. It was funny how she could lie freely in one way, but was unhappy to do it in another.

Patsy showed up not long after that. She had made out a list of suspects and added what we’d learned about them.
She gave us each a copy. “I thought I’d put the victim first,” she explained. “There has to be motive and the victim is the usual path to figure it out.”

Basically what we found out from her list was that Frances Brown-Hendricks was rich.
Rich and mean-tempered. She apparently didn’t hesitate to let her opinion be known, cruelly most of the time. Audience? All the better. Not many of us feel free to voice our opinions so freely, as much from a sense of decency and kindness as from good manners.

“Follow the money trail,” Aunt Myrtle reminded us yet again. “Who benefits? That’s how you figure these things out.” She looked over her list and reluctantly added, “It looks like almost all of them benefitted one way or another.”

“I wish we knew exactly what her bequests were,” I complained. “To whom and how much. Is there any way to find out?”

“You could try asking Nicholas straight out,” Patsy said. “Not that I think he’d tell you, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Of course once he’s publicly committed, he’ll have to carry through and I’m not convinced he plans to.”

“Not unless they’re small amounts,” David agreed. “Though he might go along with some money for Karen Powell if he thinks it’ll get her off his back. I think most of the suspects have it right when they say he’ll dump her.”

“Why?” Aunt Myrtle asked. “I’d think he’d enjoy having someone so slavishly devoted to him.”

“The grass is always greener,” Patsy reminded her. “She was handy when he was tied down with a wife, but now the world’s his oyster. But I’m guessing it’ll have to come out of his personal money. I doubt Mrs. B-H left her anything.”

“Maybe I can get the names, even if he
won’t commit himself to the amounts,” I mused. “That might work. I’ll tell him that the subject keeps coming up and it might help if I knew who really was included in the will—or whatever it was that listed what she wanted to go to whom. I wonder how they worked that out legally. He would be hit with a gift tax if he gave the money to them after he got it, wouldn’t he?”

“Elena will know,” David said. “I’ll find out from her tomorrow.”

“I think I’ll call right now,” I stated bravely, while my courage held. “It isn’t that late for a call. Then I can report on the meeting tonight at the same time.”

They stood around while I called. I was a little surprised when he answered the phone right away. Did I think he had a butler, or something? Guess so.
He caught on to what I wanted right away and wasn’t at all offended. He promised to send the list over the next day, but didn’t mention adding the amounts. I strained to hear anybody or anything in the background, but it was quiet, not even the sound of a television or radio. Too quiet? Shame on me. Maybe the poor man was spending an evening reading, not motioning for a second party in the background to keep silent.

“He’s sending the list tomorrow,” I assured my
own hushed listeners. “I couldn’t hear anything in the background. If he has company, it’s no wild party.”

“He’ll be act
ing ultra cautious for a while,” Patsy said, cynically. “He won’t draw any attention to himself with women.”

“He had dinner with Rachael,” David grumbled.

“Oh, but nobody would think anything of that,” Aunt Myrtle reassured him.

“What does that mean?” I asked sharply, and then wished I had kept quiet. She was just as apt to tell me as to use tact.

Fortunately for my ego, she chose tact. “The only people he’d worry about is the sheriff’s department, and they’d understand why he was talking to you.”

“Maybe he found me irresistible,” I said, dryly.

David and Patsy snickered. “I heard that,” I told them.

“It’s true, Aunt Rachael,” Patsy swallowed her smirk. “He might have
wanted
Sheriff Alberts to hear about him talking to you. It would make his avowal of innocence and wanting to find the killer seem more plausible.”

“He doesn’t have the ability to realize how wonderful you are,” David told me. That was a huge statement on his part. He doesn’t like to expose his feelings
in front of people.

I laughed. It had reached that point. “Okay, okay, he took me to dinner because he felt I was simple enough to be impressed, and he hoped the sheriff would hear about it and realize how hard he was trying to find his wife’s murderer. I accept all that. And of course he doesn’t have the ability to know how wonderful I am.”

“Whatever his reason was,” my niece smiled at me. “He didn’t need to pick such a nice restaurant, so he must have had a peek at you at some time or another. And he seems to be sticking to his part of the bargain.”

“I think he did it,” I stated boldly. “Just listening to that woman over the tape was enough to convince me that he wanted her dead.”

“He might have wanted her dead,” David agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he was the one to kill her. I haven’t the least doubt that he dreamed of her dead, that he wanted her dead, and that if he’d stood at the edge of a cliff with her and was absolutely sure nobody knew they were there or could see them, he would push her over. Otherwise, I’m not sure he’d give up the easy berth he has on a chancy murder. I don’t think he has the guts.”

“Poison is sneaky,” Aunt Myrtle reminded him.

He shook his head. “That’s true enough, but there was that small chance that someone would see the poison being slipped into her cup. Too many people around. I think it was one of the others. I’m leaning toward the Captain, except he of all of them doesn’t seem to have much of a motive. Maybe he thought Brown-Hendricks would be a softer touch if she was out of the way. He’s one who would gladly kill if he thought he had a chance. His ego would make him think he could get away with it, too.”