Weekends Can Be Murder, page 11
“You may be right about him being a hit man, but I’m not his target. If he wanted to kill me, he’s had ample time and plenty of opportunity to do it. Why wait until now?”
Larry and Selena exchanged a look.
“Perhaps so that you can take the fall for the murder he’s been hired to commit here,” she said, reluctantly adding, “or so you can be blamed for one that’s already been committed.”
Larry went cold all over, recalling what Baker had said at the dinner table: “Whatever Mrs. Pyke needs me to do. I have many skills.” Could Baker have been the other person in that overheard conversation? Could Edyth really hate Court that much?
The answer to the second question was etched on Court’s face. “Killing me in a way that frames me for Arthur’s murder? Mama Pyke would love that, I’m sure.”
Selena said gently, “You called Arthur an old friend. How long did you know each other?”
The actor’s eyes acquired a faraway look. “In the non-biblical sense? Since grade six. But we became close in high school and stayed that way for our first two years of university.”
“And by ‘close’, you mean…?”
He lowered his voice to reply, “Exactly what you think it means. When I came out of my closet, Edyth locked Arthur securely inside his. She forbade him to see me anymore. I was devastated, but we were both young, and she was a force of nature even then. She gave us no choice but to go our separate ways.”
“What did you think when he contacted you about this weekend, then?” Larry asked.
“He wasn’t contacting me, not knowingly. He was hiring Heron Springs, on the recommendation of a mutual acquaintance, and the person he spoke to when he made the booking was Diane. I probably shouldn’t have come on this gig, and if I’d known Edyth would be present, trust me, I wouldn’t have. But hearing from him after such a long silence, I was hoping…” His eyes shone with unshed tears. In a throaty voice, he said, “We were soulmates. We both knew it. It was beyond imagining that he would—that he could be—” With a gasp, he caught himself up. Then, visibly recomposing himself, he assured them in the major domo’s crisp British accent, “And yet he is, and life goes on. Now, I believe you have a list of questions for me regarding a hypothetical murder?”
And just like that, they were back on script.
“All right,” Selena said. “Where were you from approximately seven-thirty until ten o’clock yesterday evening?”
Court had written the narrative. He had no need to refer to notes. “From 7:30 until about 8:30, I was in the kitchen, supervising the staff as they performed the after-dinner clean-up,” he told her, once more playing Cedric Vaile, the very proper butler they’d met at the dock.
“Can anyone corroborate that?” Larry asked.
“Yes, all four of the servers were with me. After that, I came directly here, where I stayed until your Mr. Sampson rather urgently summoned me to his meeting,” he replied in a disgruntled voice. “Something about a sticking door. Certainly nothing to make a fuss about, I should imagine.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?” Selena persisted.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Every ten minutes, it seemed, one of the servers felt the need to knock on my door to give a report or ask for instructions. At roughly ten o’clock, Diane came to let me know that the kitchen had been scrubbed down and all the breakfast preparations had been made. And before you ask, no, she didn’t come in. We spoke through the door. I thanked her, and she went away.”
“So, no one actually saw you during that time?” said Larry.
Vaile drew himself up. “I believe the appropriate idiom is, ‘I wasn’t decent’. Trust me, Mr. Holmes, anyone who had walked through my door would have seen something they’d much rather not.”
“What was your relationship with Gareth Wylde?” Selena asked.
“There was none. I first met him yesterday when he arrived with the rest of Mr. Pyke’s weekend guests. He struck me as being a most unpleasant fellow, always complaining, never smiling, and constantly going out of his way to be rude and hurtful. I was glad not to be obliged to socialize with him.”
“Did you witness any of his altercations?” Larry followed up.
“Yes. On several occasions, he was verbally abusive toward his wife, and at one point he nearly came to blows with Mr. Warfield over the way Wylde had treated Lois Drake in the past.”
“Was there anyone else on the island who might have hated him enough to kill him?” Selena asked.
“I’m certain there were many, both on and off the island, but those are the only ones to which I can personally attest.”
That took care of the script. Now Larry asked, “Who did you assign to rig the fence at the top of the bluff?”
“I gave that job to Will. Why?”
“Is there any way that Farley could have ended up doing it instead?”
Court’s mouth formed a hyphen. “No. Again I ask, why?”
“Wylde told me that at the time he fell on the stairs, which would have been around eight o’clock, the man rigging the safety fence was wearing a cap that concealed his hair,” said Larry.
“No one should have been working on the fence after dinner. Will had already completed that task and joined us in the kitchen by then. He often wears a ball cap to keep his hair out of his eyes when he’s working on props and sets,” Court said, adding thoughtfully, “But now that I think of it, he’d changed back into uniform and was bareheaded when he came to help with the clean-up. If Wylde saw that cap, someone else was definitely wearing it.”
“Mr. Court,” Larry said, “until the police arrive, it would probably not be a good idea to turn your back on Farley.”
The distant look had come into his eyes again. “I loved Arthur, you know. I would never have harmed him. Not like they did.”
Selena and Larry let themselves quietly out the door.
Ten
“So he’s the boy?” Selena murmured, waving cheerily at Baker. He studiously ignored her.
“So it would appear,” Larry replied. “Let’s leave Farley for last. I want to see how he reacts to a particular question.”
Larry’s first impression of the kitchen was that it resembled the lair of an enormous pack rat, one that collected major appliances. Then he reminded himself: the house was unfinished, the kitchen barely begun, and Court and his actors weren’t the only ones putting on a show at Rafferty House. If Arthur hadn’t been murdered, none of his guests would be any the wiser about what was down here—or, more to the point, what wasn’t.
“No one does,” said the petite woman with straight black hair who was standing at the sink, washing cups.
“I beg your pardon?” said Larry.
“You were wondering how anyone could possibly prepare food in such a horrible kitchen,” she went on breezily, still with her back to them. “It’s the first thing that jumps to everyone’s mind when they come down here. I was just answering your unasked question.” At last, she turned to face them, drying her hands with a sheet of paper towelling. “I’m Fan Thien, by the way. I’m the meals coordinator. And you’re the firefighter and the event organizer. I understand you have questions for me…?”
“You sound very knowledgeable,” Selena said. “You obviously keep your eyes and ears open. So, what can you tell us about your fellow cast members?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she replied. “And don’t expect me to dish dirt on anyone. That’s not my thing.”
“All right. Which of the other three servers do you trust the most?”
“That’s easy. It’s Will. Diane is a close second.”
Making Farley a distant third. Okay. Larry could play this game too. “So you and Will and Diane are friends? You watch each other’s backs?” he asked her.
“Yes. Diane and I are like sisters.”
“What about Will?”
“He’s the protective big brother type, watching out for everyone else. Very likeable Open and friendly. And honest. We’re lucky to have him.”
By implication, the opposite of Farley. Right.
“What’s it like, working with Tony Court?” Selena asked.
“It’s great. He’s taught me so much. Taught all of us, actually. I just wish…”
“Just wish what?”
“Tony is a fine actor, and such a good teacher, but he’s never received the recognition or respect that he deserves. I know it bothers him. I’ve caught him in moments when he thinks he’s alone, and he always looks so sad. All he needed was a break, just one memorable role, and he never got it.”
“How do you know?” said Selena. “Does he talk about his past?”
“I know because he doesn’t talk about it. Actors love to share stories of their experiences. But for Tony, it’s as if his life began five years ago, when he started Heron Springs.” A pause. “Look,” she said uncomfortably, “I’d appreciate it if he didn’t find out I said that.”
“Understood,” Larry assured her. “Now tell us about the scene in here between 7:30 and 10:00 p.m. last night.”
They were back on script. With evident relief, Fan replied, “From 7:30 to 8:30 it was pretty busy. Lots of pots and dishes to wash and put away and garbage to bag up. Plenty of work for all five of us.”
“You’re saying everyone was here for the entire sixty minutes?”
She thought for a moment. “Vaile was, for sure, and Will, and so was I. Diane took a bathroom break and was gone for about ten minutes. And Farley went out for a smoke at one point. I don’t know for how long, because I didn’t actually see him leave or come back. But I know he did return, because I saw him later, wiping down a countertop.”
Except there were no countertops. This part of the conversation was make-believe. Larry swallowed a sigh. Keeping everything straight was proving to be far more mentally taxing than he’d anticipated. Fortunately, Selena had been jotting things down on the verso of the floor plan.
“If he used the same door as we did,” said Selena, “then someone upstairs might have seen him.”
“Oh, no, he used the receiving entrance,” Fan corrected her, and pointed to what appeared to be a closet door in the wall, about a metre away from the sink. “That’s how we brought all the food and stuff in.”
“For real?” Larry demanded. “There’s a below ground entrance to this room?”
“Have a look,” she invited him. “That’s not a cold cellar. It’s an elevator. Tony was glad to find it. Apparently, it was part of the original design of the house. On the outside, it doesn’t look like much—a couple of metal squares sitting on the ground. Then they open up, like petals, and a platform rises and lowers. It operates by remote control.”
She plucked a small black box off the fake counter and showed it to them. Larry saw four round buttons, in four different colours. “How many controllers are there?” he asked.
“Three. Two are kept here in the kitchen, and Mr. Vaile has the third. May I finish now?”
Selena smiled. “By all means, please do.”
“At 8:30 or so, Mr. Vaile put Diane in charge of the scrub-down and breakfast prep and left for his quarters,” Fan went on. “The rest of us continued working until ten p.m.”
Larry had had enough. “Let’s be honest here. You were thawing and reheating premade meals, not cooking from scratch. Even if there were a need for a scrub-down and breakfast prep, that shouldn’t have taken four people an hour and a half. We need to know where you were at about 8:40, when the shots were fired and the doors all jammed shut.”
For a second her eyes darted nervously around the room. Then she closed them and visibly made a decision. “I was in my quarters by then, reading. I have no idea where any of the others were. That’s the truth.”
“But you did hear the shots,” he persisted.
“My character didn’t. They weren’t part of the game,” she replied. “Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes. Thank you, Fan, we appreciate it,” he told her. “And there’s just one more thing I want to test.” Turning to Selena, he explained, “The acoustics in this house are strange. When I was in my room, I heard things I don’t think I should have been able to hear. I’m wondering whether the same thing happened to you and Liz earlier, down here.”
“Okay,” said Selena. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just stay where you are and listen.” So saying, Larry climbed the stairs to the main floor, closed the door, and began reciting in a normal tone of voice, “To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether it’s nobler in the soul to suffer the slings and arrows of the Pyke family’s outrageous fortune or to take up arms against a Georgian Bay of troubles and by opposing, end them, I need to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream…”
Nope. That was not going to happen. Not tonight.
Larry opened the door and headed back downstairs. “Well? Could you tell that I was talking?”
“No, sorry,” Selena told him. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
“But you heard the sound of the other two talking. So, what was different?”
“Maybe the emotion?” Fan offered.
“What do you mean?” Selena demanded.
“You’re right about the acoustics. For some reason, angry voices travel farther in this house, even if they’re not loud. Last night, during the clean-up, I was in the dining room, the door to the kitchen was closed, and I was still able to hear Tony’s voice from the basement. Tony never raises his voice, but his tone sharpens when he’s angry. That was the tone I heard. I couldn’t make out individual words, but I recognized his voice.”
“And he was angry?” Selena repeated.
“He was furious. Don’t ask me what it was about. I honestly don’t know. As soon as I opened the door to go back downstairs, he stopped.”
Standing in the foyer a minute later, Larry and Selena shared a speculative look.
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” said Selena. “Hidden elevators, strange acoustics, secret passageways… I wonder what other surprises this house holds for us.”
“Not too many more, I hope,” Larry said. “Shall we question Will next?”
While holding down the fort in the drawing room, Will had evidently decided to sample some of the liqueurs behind the bar. They found him sprawled over one of the armchairs, sipping crème de menthe from a brandy snifter and wearing a broad, floppy grin. At least, that was how it appeared. After their visit with Vaile, however, Larry was deeply skeptical about the contents of the glass.
“Will Kemper!” he barked.
“Yo!” came the cavalier response. “What can I do ya for?”
“Have you located your missing hat?” said Larry.
The other man’s eyes flickered, just for a brief second. “Not yet. Why? Do you know where it is?”
Selena cut in, “We have some questions we’d like to ask you, and we need honest answers.”
“Sure!” he replied expansively. “Knock yourselves out.”
“Is there anything we should know about your fellow cast members?” she asked.
His expression was a portrait of puzzlement. “Like what?”
“Like where everyone was between 7:30 and 10:00 p.m. last night.”
He levered himself back into an upright position in the chair. “Well, let me see. We were all in the kitchen for the first hour, doing the washing up, packaging the trash, stuff like that. Mr. Vaile was there the whole time, cracking the whip. Farley still managed to sneak out less than halfway through, though. Never said why.”
“How long was he gone?”
“Twenty or twenty-five minutes, I’d guess. Vaile wasn’t happy about that. Dressed him down proper when he got back. At 8:30, he gave Fan the rest of the night off and put Diane in charge of the scrub-down and breakfast prep. Then he left. Shortly after that, Farley bailed on us again. He said Vaile had given him another job to do and it couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, though. Secretive little bugger.”
“So what happened then?”
“Diane and I finished the kitchen work together shortly before nine o’clock. Then I went upstairs to my room. Don’t ask me what she did after that, because I don’t know.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary, like hearing gunshots at about twenty minutes to nine?”
“No, everything was routine. It’s pretty quiet in the basement.”
“When Hugh asked who had been trapped inside the house when the doors jammed shut, you and Diane both raised your hands,” Selena pointed out tartly. “Court said that he gave you the job of weakening the safety fence and that you’d come back from that without your cap. Wylde said that the server who lured him out to the beach and claimed to be rigging the fence was wearing a cap that covered his hair. Meanwhile, you’re claiming to have been in the kitchen at the time he fell on the stairs. Somebody’s lying to us, and we’re going to find out who it is.”
Shrugging off all pretense of being tipsy, Will made an exasperated noise. “I knew this was going to happen. You’re mixing up real life with the simulation.”
“Then straighten us out. Please!” she said.
“Okay. First of all, in real life, Diane and I both heard the shots and were trapped in the kitchen afterward. Our characters were not trapped, and they didn’t hear anything that wasn’t part of the simulation.
“Second, also in real life, Tony sent me to rig the fence, not weaken it. We would never create a safety hazard for the sake of a show. While you were having dinner yesterday, I installed a latch and hinge on one of the cross pieces. It’s still strong as ever, but if you release the latch, that piece drops down, making it look as though someone has broken the fence while falling over the bluff. That’s what you were supposed to find after breakfast later this morning. I wore my ball cap while doing the work, then put the cap back in our room before going to the kitchen.”
“You’re talking about the room you share with Farley?” Larry said.
“Yes. With Harald and Edyth Pyke added to the guest list, there aren’t enough rooms for each of us to have our own, so the servers are doubled up. If Mr. Wylde saw someone wearing my cap after dinner, the odds are that Farley lifted it out of my bag. Now, can we go back to the script?”
