A Killer Clue, page 10
“I can’t promise that, but I’ll see what I can do,” I said, with a little smile.
“Speaking of Aircroft, I understand that Mr. Clewe is hosting Eloise Anderson at the estate,” Gloria said, pursing her lips. “Do you think that is wise? I do feel pity for the girl, but sheltering a murderer …”
“Alleged murderer,” David interjected, giving his mother a sidelong glance. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”
“Yes, yes,” Gloria said, with a lift of her chin. “Still, it would make me uneasy to work with Eloise in the house.”
I clutched the strap of my purse. “I’m not bothered by that.”
“Jane is made of stronger stuff.” David laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “She’s a librarian, after all.”
“Really? How interesting,” Gloria said, in a tone that told me she didn’t find it interesting in the least.
“Anyway, you must admit that Eloise has suffered a lot of tragedy in her young life. I suppose you knew both Ken and Abby Anderson when they were running Last Chapter?” I asked, widening my eyes in what I hoped was an innocent expression.
“Not well. But we ran into each other from time to time. Often bidding on the same rare books at auction,” Gloria said.
“We won, most of the time.” David’s genial tone didn’t mask his pride. He motioned toward the empty wineglass on the table. “Would you like another, Jane?”
“Yes, thanks. White, please.”
“Got it. No, just leave that glass, I’ll get you another.” David lifted his hand from Gloria’s shoulder. “What about you, Mom?”
“Champagne, of course,” she replied, offering him a smile.
I could tell that they had a close relationship. Which means either one would probably do anything to protect the other, I thought, as David strolled away to fetch our drinks.
Gloria looked me over. “That’s a lovely gown, Jane. Did you buy it locally?”
“Yes,” I said, before mentioning the shop Lauren had directed me to. “Thanks, I’m glad the dress is appropriate. I wasn’t sure what to wear to an event like this. I don’t attend too many black-tie functions.”
Gloria waved one hand through the air. “Oh, we aren’t that fussy. Or stuffy. I mean, my son even allows people like that reprobate Neil Knight to attend our functions.” She made a face. “Magenta, my heavens.”
“You know him as well?” I asked.
“Unfortunately. He’s purchased a few items from us. I don’t approve of some of his rumored business associates, but what can you do? A customer is a customer.” Gloria brushed back a thick lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead. “But I’d say he’s a bad influence. I don’t know what Ken and Abby were thinking when they brought him in as a partner, but I suppose they needed the infusion of money, poor dears. Their bookstore was really struggling at one point.”
“Did they have to start from scratch?” I knew the answer to this, but hoped to get Gloria to say more about the Andersons’ money troubles.
“No, the store had been there for many years. The Andersons actually purchased a good deal of stock along with the building. Ken apparently found a few very nice items that fetched a good price in among the old stock, which did help them out in the beginning,” Gloria said.
This was information that would probably interest Cam. If the store held hidden treasures, perhaps one had been discovered around the time of Ken’s death. If Neil wanted the money from the sale of a valuable book for himself … I realized that Gloria had said something else and refocused my attention on her. “Excuse me, I drifted there for a moment. What were you saying?”
Gloria’s smile was strained. “Nothing important. Just that I hope Eloise has a good lawyer. Even if she did stab that detective, I’m sure there was some reason. Self-defense, perhaps? One never knows what men get up to these days.”
“She does have an excellent legal team. Cam, I mean Mr. Clewe, has made sure of that.”
“How nice of him,” Gloria said, looking off to her right. “Ah, here’s David with our drinks. Shall we change the subject?”
I preferred not to, but knew I had to acquiesce if I didn’t want to blow my cover. David handed us our drinks, and we made small talk for a few minutes before Gloria said she supposed she’d better circulate among the guests.
“Wait,” David said, as his mom took a step away. “I meant to tell you earlier, Mom, but with everything going on it slipped my mind. I talked to Terry this morning about that property in Chapel Hill. She says she thinks the owners are finally willing to play ball.”
“Great. We’ll talk more later,” Gloria said, giving David an approving smile. Turning to me, she added, “Very nice to meet you, Jane. Please do come and visit us when we can show you our lovely art and antiques.”
“Terry?” I asked, as Gloria walked away. It seemed like a strange coincidence, considering the encounter at my apartment. “How funny. I just met someone with that name.”
David gave me a quizzical look. “It’s not uncommon, but this is a real estate agent in Chapel Hill. We’re looking at some investment property there. I doubt you know her, but her full name’s Teresa Lindover.”
Chapter Eighteen
I loosened my tight grip on the stem of my wineglass, afraid it would snap. “That can’t be right. It was my impression that she was a detective with the Chapel Hill police department.”
“She was, but she left about five years ago to go into real estate. Much more lucrative, I’m sure,” David said.
I considered the badge Terry had shown me. I thought they had to turn those in if they left the force. She must’ve somehow stashed a copy of her old one, or had a fake one made. “I’m sure you’re right.” I took a swig of my wine. “Also a lot less dangerous.”
David eyed me with curiosity. “That’s certainly true. Look at Detective Parker. He was retired and still died due to his entanglement in an old case.”
I had no intention of telling David about Terry’s visit to my apartment. Despite his friendly overtures, he was still on my list of suspects. “Well, what do you say we avoid talking about murder for the rest of the evening? I noticed that you had quite a spread of hors d’oeuvres on a table near the bar and I do like to eat a little something when I drink.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” David said, slipping his hand through the bend of my elbow. “Let’s grab a little snack and then I can introduce you to a few more of the guests.”
I acquiesced with this plan, primarily because I wanted to remain alert and already felt the two glasses of wine going to my head.
After we enjoyed some tea sandwiches and other finger food, I requested a glass of sparkling water from the bar. It didn’t escape my notice that David did the same. One point in his favor, I thought as I followed him back into the milling crowd.
The truth was, despite my initial impression when he visited Aircroft, I found David to be a very pleasant companion. He was eager to discuss books as well as art and antiques.
“It must be exciting to work with such materials,” he said, after I shared information on some of the items in Cam’s book collections. “I always feel a rush when I’m holding a particularly rare book.”
“I know that feeling,” I said.
“Wonderful, isn’t it? As a matter of fact, I have a pending acquisition that would certainly make your eyes light up.”
“Really? What is that?”
David pressed a finger to his lips. “Sorry, can’t talk about it yet. I’m still in negotiations with the owner. But once I have it in my hands, I definitely let you know. I’m sure you’d be thrilled to see it.”
I agreed with this plan, my mind racing with the possibility that David’s new acquisition could be the same book that Eloise was sent to look for by Bruce Parker. Which means he may be in on the murder, I reminded myself, as l laughed at one of David’s quips. I couldn’t let my guard down, even if David, and his mother, seemed like decent people on the surface. The investigations that Cam and I had undertaken over the past several months had taught me that devils were quite adept at hiding behind masks.
By the end of the evening, I’d been introduced to numerous people I was sure I wouldn’t remember the next day. Longing to go home and kick off my heeled sandals, I thanked David and Gloria for their hospitality and once again promised to return to the showroom to view their collection of art and antiques. Elbowing my way to the main doors, I retrieved my shawl and texted Taylor.
He drove up to the building entrance two minutes after I stepped outside.
“Did you finish Piranesi?” I asked him as I settled into the back seat.
He flashed me a smile in the rearview mirror. “I did, and was truly blown away. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was absolutely perfect.”
“I thought so too,” I said, buckling my seat belt.
We continued to discuss the book on the drive back to my apartment. At a certain point, impressed with his insights, I asked him if he was interested in writing as well as reading.
“You just display a certain approach to the text that makes me wonder,” I told him.
“Guilty,” he said. “I actually have a degree in creative writing. Which is why I’m working as a chauffeur,” he added, flashing me a grin over his shoulder.
“I guess it does give you time to read and think, or maybe even jot down some scenes?”
“That’s one benefit. I also need the money, of course. I’ve sold a few short stories, but I’m still trying to break into the business as a novelist. And even then, I might need to keep driving. Most authors don’t make enough from their work to live on.”
“I’ve heard that. It’s a pity,” I said, collecting my purse and shawl as Taylor pulled into the parking spot in front of Vince’s house. “Do you have a website or anything? I’d like to keep an eye out for your stories, and that novel I’m sure you’ll eventually sell.”
Taylor jumped out to open my door and help me out of the car. “Not yet, but I’m planning to make one soon,” he said. “All my contact information is on the card I gave you. It’s for my car-for-hire business, but I write under the same name.”
“Ah, Taylor Iverson. Good name for an author,” I said.
“Let’s hope so.” Taylor lifted his hand in a brief acknowledgement before he wished me a good night. He didn’t get back in the car, though. “I’ll wait until you’re safely inside your apartment,” he said.
I made a mental note to tell Cam to send Taylor a tip, then lifted the hem of my gown and ascended the staircase. Opening my door, I was surprised by the flood of light that spilled out onto the landing.
“Didn’t think I left the lights on,” I muttered, before waving to Taylor to let him know it was okay for him to leave.
When I stepped inside the apartment, I heard sounds that made me stop in my tracks. I considered running back outside in hope that Taylor hadn’t driven away yet, but grabbed a walking stick from my umbrella holder instead. Stalking into the living room area, the stick raised over my head, I glanced at the flickering images on the TV screen.
It was a scene from the 1995 version of Sense and Sensibility. I lowered my arms and turned my attention on the sofa. “Bailey, what on earth are you doing here?” I asked.
My thirty-one-year-old daughter looked up at me, a bright smile lighting up her face, which wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Pre-Raphaelite painting. “Hi, Mom. Your landlord let me in, once I was able to prove who I was. Hope you don’t mind.”
Bemused, I studied her for a moment, marveling as I always did over how two rather average people could have produced such a beauty. Her wavy chestnut hair glinted with crimson highlights, her wide brown eyes were framed by impossibly thick black lashes, and her lips formed the perfect sensuous bow. “Of course I don’t mind, but I wish you’d let me know you were arriving this evening. How’d you get here anyway?”
“The usual way—plane and Uber. Now, don’t make that face. As I keep telling you, Ubers are perfectly safe.” Bailey paused the film on the TV before uncurling her long, lithe, body and gracefully rising to face me. “I’m glad I didn’t tell you I was coming today. Otherwise I know you’d have missed whatever event you attended this evening.” She whistled. “Very nice outfit. I hope you were on a date?”
“Not exactly,” I said, sweeping my shawl from my shoulders and tossing it onto the sofa. “I did attend a gala, but it was in support of an investigation, not because I was out with some guy.”
“Too bad, because you look lovely.” Bailey stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
Hugging her back, my fingers brushed her shoulder blades. “Goodness, you’re so thin. Haven’t you been eating?”
“Oh, Mom, you know how it is in my business. Have to stay slim if I want to land the primo roles.” Bailey stepped back, sliding her hands down my arms so she could clasp my fingers. “You look great. This new job must agree with you.”
“I do enjoy it,” I said.
“The amateur sleuthing parts as much or more than cataloging?” Bailey’s eyes twinkled. “I know you enjoy playing Nancy Drew.”
“I’m a little old to be Nancy Drew,” I said, with a smile.
Bailey grinned and released my hands. “Miss Marple, then.”
“And I’m too young for that,” I said, playfully swatting at her.
“So this evening’s event is part of some investigation you’re running along with your rather eccentric boss?” Bailey asked, gracefully sitting back down on the sofa.
I plopped down beside her. “Yes. We’re trying to find evidence that a young woman is innocent of murder, while simultaneously proving her mother didn’t stab her father to death many years ago.”
“Wow, this sounds more intriguing than the soap opera scripts my agent keeps sending to me,” Bailey said.
Kicking off my sandals, I sank back into the sofa cushions. “It’s more like a Greek tragedy. Or one of those whodunit plays where there are too many suspects and not enough clues.”
“Hmmm. If it’s like a play, maybe I could help.” Bailey swung her legs up and stretched them out across the seat cushions as she leaned into the decorative pillow pressed against the arm of the sofa. “I’ve studied enough scenarios to understand motives and all that.”
I patted her ankle. “This is real life, not the stage. Things don’t always mesh together so easily. Not like when you see something in an earlier scene that portends what will happen later.”
“So no Chekhov’s gun? Too bad.” Bailey yawned. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“For me too,” I said. “Why don’t we both get some sleep and talk more in the morning?”
“Sure thing. Only, I need you to promise me two things,” Bailey said.
“What’s that?” I asked, standing again and gathering up my shawl and shoes.
“One, that you’ll tell me all about the various investigations you’re pursuing right now, and two, that you’ll introduce me to your quite intriguing-sounding boss as soon as possible.”
Glad my back was to Bailey, I grimaced. “Alright. But don’t expect too much.”
“From the details about your sleuthing or meeting your boss?” Bailey asked.
“Both,” I called over my shoulder as I strode into the bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
Over breakfast, I filled Bailey in on the two Anderson murder cases, as well as the efforts Vince and I had made to track down our mystery woman.
“I’m not sure I want to get involved in investigating murders, but I’d love to help you find out more about Lily,” Bailey said, as we washed up the dishes.
I dried my hands with a dish towel. “You could go back to the local history museum and look through some more scrapbooks or other historical documents. I’ll give you my copies of the photo and drawing so you’ll have a reference point.”
“Alright.” Bailey placed a coffee mug in the dish rack. “But I don’t have a car, so you’ll have to drop me off when you head into work.”
“The museum doesn’t open that early. You’ll have to wait until ten. It’s okay, though, because it’s only a short walk from here.” I pulled my keys from my pocket and slipped the apartment key from the ring. “Here—there’s a small hardware store a block from the museum. Have them make a copy of my front door key so you can come and go without bothering Vince.”
Bailey swept her long hair behind her shoulders. “Thanks, that will help, but I’ll have to make sure I’m here when you get home since you won’t have a key yet.”
“Just be here around six. I usually finish work around five, but I thought I’d stop and pick up something for dinner.” I studied Bailey’s bright face for a second. “Any new food restrictions I should know about?”
“Nope. Still a vegetarian, of course.”
“Of course. Okay, I’d better run.” I stopped by the tall, narrow table placed behind the sofa and slid the two photocopies from the drawer. “Here are the pictures.” I turned and blew her a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Bailey called after me as I left the apartment.
When I got to Aircroft I ran into Jenna Brown, the new housekeeper for the estate. She was in the main entry hall, providing instructions to the small crew she brought in once a week to give the mansion a thorough cleaning.
A tall woman with dark hair, skin, and eyes, she had the slender but athletic build of a runner. Which she’d been, she’d told me once. She’d even won statewide awards for running cross country in high school. Now in her mid-forties, she still ran, but only for exercise and, occasionally, for charity.
“Hi, Jenna,” I said, after the cleaning crew dispersed. “Would you happen to know where Mr. Clewe is this morning?”
“Last I saw he was in the breakfast room,” Jenna said.
“Is Ms. Anderson with him?”
Jenna quirked her eyebrows. “No, I haven’t seen her yet today. She does tend to sleep much later than anyone else.”
