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Jane was unencumbered by long black skirts like Maisy. Her thick cable knit sweater, jeans, and runners, allowed her freedom of movement and she quickly climbed the back stairs.
She flipped her long brown braid over her shoulder and pointed the flashlight up the painted stairs ahead of her feet. It didn’t take her long to find the door and exit in the hallway. What helped was the light emitting from the headlamps her husband, and Joe used to illuminate the corridor. Currently the men were occupied rolling an empty gurney past her toward the room at the end of the hall.
Jack gave her a wink as he pushed and Joe pulled the medical stretcher past.
“Hey you.” She greeted him.
“Hey love,” he answered. A quick smile brushed his lips. She trailed behind them bringing up the rear.
Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. “Why does it stink like pot up here?”
Jack snorted. “I’ll let you have one guess.”
“Mrs. Roque will have a bird when she finds out.”
The men came to a halt. “Not so far. She was up here with us earlier and didn’t say anything about the smell.” Jack made an adjustment to the stretcher’s height.
“Maybe she’s been a touch distracted by something else.” Jane’s tone was dry.
“No doubt.” Joe nodded.
Constable Patrick Tadmore emerged into the hallway. He appeared to be deep in thought although this changed when he saw the three of them standing outside the guest room.
Jane stepped forward and reached over the stretcher. “Here you go.” Jane handed the freezer bags to the cop.
“These are perfect, thanks Jane.”
“You might need this too.” She moved around the stretcher to be on the same side as her husband. Jane then slid her hand inside his coat. They exchanged a brief telling look, then she extracted an item from her husband’s shirt pocket. Jane offered the cop a felt tipped marker.
Tadmore nodded. “Yeah, I think I might.” The younger man glanced over at Jack. “Before we move the deceased, can you give me a hand?”
“Yeah, sure.” By Jack’s expression, Jane could tell her husband was not exactly sure what the cop wanted him to do, but whatever Tadmore needed, Jack was always willing to help.
Curiosity more than anything made Jane lean on the doorframe and look through the opening to watch. Vaguely, Jane realized her father-in-law’s nosiness was rubbing off on her.
Tadmore gestured to the floor.
Jack tapped the side of his headlamp above his ear and the illumination increased significantly.
As soon as Jane saw what was on the carpet she said, “Ah.” Everything made sense now.
The cop tucked the box of bags under his left arm. He labeled the first one and offered it to Jack to hold open. Then with gloved hands Tadmore picked up a silver object off the floor and dropped it into the first bag. Jack sealed the bag and accepted a second one.
“What are they doing?” Joe asked from the wrong side of the gurney, he was at a bad angle to see anything.
“Gathering evidence, I would say.”
The cop put the woman’s shoe in the large bag and Jack pointed to the other one still hooked on the victim’s foot on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Tadmore added that one to the bag as well.
The pair continued on for several minutes. They then came out of the room with various items encased in the clear plastic. Jane offered to take the bags from Jack.
“We should move her now.” Tadmore gave Jane the box of freezer bags and Jack’s pen too.
“All right.” Joe said. “Jack you’re taking the middle? Tadmore, you get the feet, and follow my directions.” They gave each other a bracing look.
In doing so, their manners changed perceptively. A seriousness passed over all three men as they coordinated in muted tones. Joe and Jack wordlessly, from long practice, angled the gurney to pass it through the bedroom door. Tadmore followed.
Jane continued to watch from beside the doorframe. The stretcher was moved up beside the bed. Joe adjusted the level to match.
First, Jack moved to the middle of the gurney and braced his hips to push it against the bed.
The cop frowned when Jack leaned across the stretcher and grasped the thin bedspread, rolling the material. As if sensing Patrick’s question, he said, “I need to create a handhold.”
“Hammock the feet, Constable.” Joe instructed and then did the same with the head by pulling the bedspread up on either side. “Like this.”
Tadmore nodded and cradled the feet inside the fabric.
“On my count, we move on three.” Joe looked at Jack and the cop in turn.
Both men nodded.
“We slide the body; we do not lift. Ready?”
“Ready.” They said in unison.
“One, two, three.” Ziola Nutt was slid sideways to the stretcher, bedspread and all.
Jane noted the dead woman’s hand didn’t move from her neck. “Looks like rigor mortis must has set in.” Then the hand dropped to the side.
“A bit. Rigor mortis doesn’t hit all at once. It comes in stages.” Jack lifted the side of the body bag to encompass the right side of the body. He grasped the left shoulder and rolled the victim on her right side.
Joe removed the bedding.
“I’ll need the bedspread for forensics.” Tadmore said. “Fold the topside in, to the centre, please.”
Jane pulled a clear plastic bag out of the box, opened it wide, and the cop bundled the bedspread into the bag. There was too much material for it all to fit, so she left the bag open. Rested it on the hallway chair and placed a second bag over the first. To cover the exposed portion.
The gurney was rolled out into the hallway. Joe and Jack proceeded down the hallway to the stairs.
“There is coffee and sandwiches in the kitchen when you are done.” Jane said, as Patrick locked the room’s door.
“Thanks.” He turned to her and took the accumulated evidence bags.
Thirty minutes later, Jack and Patrick entered the kitchen by the back door. Water streamed off both men’s coats as they stood in the small entrance way.
“Hang your things on the hooks by the door and come in for something hot to drink. I’ve made coffee and Gladys has cocoa at the ready if you’d prefer.” Mrs. Roque waved at the pair in.
The men complied and removed their footwear for good measure so as not to track water onto the rough kitchen tiles. They joined the group of women and Mr. Willard in the kitchen. Each took a vacant chair at the rectangular table.
“There are sandwiches on the table too.” Mrs. Roque brought over another plate, these were tuna and cucumber.
“Would anyone like cocoa or coffee?” Gladys looked around the room.
“Thanks, Gladys.” Jack looked at Tadmore. “I have a feeling the Constable will be needing all the caffeine he can get.”
“It’s looking to be a long one. I have to call in and give my inspector an update. Then, I’ll have to start interviewing the guests and staff.”
“Who do you start with?” Jane asked. She had returned to the kitchen after Patrick had locked the guest room.
Patrick looked at Maisy. “I’d like to start with you, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” She nodded. “Now?”
“Give me a minute to warm up, okay?”
“No problem.” Maybe by then she wouldn’t feel so emotionally numb.
Coffee was served and the sandwich plates handed around.
“What are you going to do with the body?” Gladys asked.
“What about the cooler?” Mrs. Roque took up the thread of the previous conversation.
Maisy bit her lip. She wasn’t going to offer any comment but looked forward to seeing how the situation unfolded.
Gladys shook her head. “Aggie, we can’t use the cooler, the food would be compromised.”
“Yes, of course, what was I thinking?” Mrs. Roque tapped herself in the middle of her forehead in self-deprecation. “We'll have to use the wine cellar then. You can put the body down there, if need be.”
“No one needs to be concerned—”
“Patrick, do you know when the storm will be over?” Gladys stared at the constable. Her mouth twitched.
“I—”
“Or, when the ferries will be back in operation?” Mrs. Roque backed up Gladys. “Not to mention when power will be restored? Let alone when the coroner can come out?”
“We’ve already—”
“You need to explore the options at hand. Besides, we've done it before.” Mrs. Roque's tone told the constable to not make a fuss.
Tadmore's attempt at getting a word in edgewise crashed to a halt. He stared back at the housekeeper. “Wait, what? You’ve kept a body in the wine cellar before?”
“Ancient history.” Gladys waved a hand at the cop. She was enjoying the back and forth, Maisy could tell.
“It was only for a short time, mind you.” Mrs. Roque interjected. “The doctor had the body taken away in short order.”
“Okay.” Jack put his mug down and spread his hands in a calming motion. “There will be no storing of bodies on the premises. Joe has taken the deceased to the funeral home. Moffatt’s have agreed to allow their facilities to be used by the RCMP for the time being. To preserve any evidence. We also have to wait until the coroner can get here to determine next steps.” He looked each of the older women in the eye as he spoke. “Fair enough?”
They nodded and Jack lean back in his chair with an air of finality.
Tadmore gave Jack a nod of thanks for his support. “I found Ms. Nutt’s room key on the dresser in her room.” He addressed the housekeeper. “I’ll keep the key until after forensics have processed the room, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Roque.”
“No, of course. The perfectly correct thing to do,” the housekeeper said.
The kitchen clock chimed midnight.
Jack stood. “What’s the plan?” He was looking at Tadmore. “You can leave Miles with us; we have plenty of room. I’m sure Dad already has him bunked down in one of the spare rooms upstairs. You are welcome to stay with us too.”
“There’s no source of heat in the apartment over the café, not with the electricity out.” Jane interjected.
“Thanks, I appreciate this.” He and Jack shared a look then his gaze shifter to Maisy.
She met his look. Neither of the males were going to mention the bruises each had seen on the victim’s neck. It didn’t take a pathologist to suspect strangulation. “I'm not really comfortable with staying here,” Maisy said. No way did she want to be on her own.
“Of course not.” Gladys piped up. “I can guarantee that.” Maisy’s grandmother stood and began collecting coffee cups for the sink.
“You won't be alone,” Patrick said. “I need to keep an eye on the scene of death. I’ll be staying.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Roque said. “We might have a killer in the house. None of us should be alone right now. I’ll never sleep, I can tell you.” She handed Gladys a used cup.
Jack got to his feet and made a move to put on his boots and coat.
Willard grunted agreement.
“No one said anything about this being a murder.” Tadmore cautioned the group. “At the moment, it’s a suspicious death.”
“You can call it anything you like, officially. We know what’s going on.” Gladys said over her shoulder as she took away the used dishes to wash.
“Jack and I will head back to our place then. Call us if you need anything.” Jane joined her husband at the back door.
“Thanks for your help.” The cop addressed the couple.
With a wave, the Birches left by the back door.
Willard got to his feet. “I’ll go check the fires. Fill the wood boxes.” And he left the kitchen too.
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Tadmore and Maisy were left sitting across from each other as the housekeeper returned to her seat at the table.
“I’d like to ask you both some questions if that’s all right?” Constable Tadmore said with a look at first Maisy and then Mrs. Roque.
“Yes, of course.” The housekeeper glanced at her employee, and she nodded.
“First, give me a bit of background on your guests, please.” The cop looked to Mrs. Roque. She told him the basics about the authors from Dunn Wolf Publishing.
“Tell me how the evening went. Were all your guests at dinner?” This question was again addressed to Mrs. Roque as he added to his notes.
“Yes, our guests were seated in the dining room at seven. After dessert, they went through to the library for coffee and brandy. I stayed to serve them. Tiffany helped Maisy clear and continued with the clean up.” The housekeeper glanced at Maisy again and she nodded. “I was in the library for about fifteen minutes pouring coffee, then I came downstairs to help, probably close to eight-thirty.”
“How long did that take?”
“Quarter 0f an hour at most, the girls had most of it done. Then I sent the girls upstairs to the breakfast room to prep it for tomorrow.” Mrs. Roque answered.
“Then what?”
“Tiffany went home. I checked on the guests. Ziola Nutt had already gone to bed. So too, had Mr. Westham. He came back downstairs just as I was locking the front door for a wake-up call at seven. I told him we would make sure he was up. He went into the library got a glass of sherry and returned upstairs. Hazel Dell followed him.”
“How did they seem?”
Mrs. Roque squinted at the folded hands in her lap as she recalled the events. “They didn’t speak to one another, but that’s all I recall.”
“Probably still annoyed from the disagreements earlier in the day, over the royalties,” Maisy commented.
“No doubt.” The housekeeper pursed her lips. “I don’t understand all the details, but they were all annoyed with Ziola Nutt over the issue.”
“Something to ask them in the morning.” Tadmore made a note. “Then what?”
“The pair of them split at the landing and each went to their own wing, and I assume, their own rooms, roughly around nine o’clock.”
Tadmore nodded as he drew two separate boxes and put a list of names in each to denote who went upstairs and when. “I wonder why he didn’t want to use his mobile phone as an alarm clock.”
Maisy lifted her chin. “Mr. Westham told me earlier he didn’t like to turn his phone on if he didn’t have to. Plus, most of the guests didn’t have a car charger with them and were worried they’d run their batteries dry.”
Tadmore nodded although he thought Westham’s excuse was a bit lame. “Then what happened?”
“I went back down to the kitchen to tell Maisy about the seven o’clock wake-up call, then I went home through the back door.”
“Did you stay in the kitchen, Maisy?”
“No,” Maisy took up the story. “I went around and wound up the LED lanterns. As I finished with the one on the foyer table, Mr. Nutt, Miss Oakla, and Mr. Lintlaw said good night and went upstairs to their rooms.”
“What time was this?”
Maisy shrugged. “Probably around ten after nine.”
“How did you know they went to their own rooms?” He looked at Maisy with raised eyebrows.
“I can’t be one hundred percent certain they did, but I heard three doors close as I was checking to ensure the front door was locked.”
“I thought you locked up, Mrs. Roque?”
“I did, but we do cross checks of all the doors, just to be safe.”
Tadmore nodded. “It was unlikely any one had come in from the outside?”
“Yes, that's right.” Mrs. Roque nodded.
“What did you do after that, Maisy?” The cop turned back to the younger woman.
“I’m on shift until six. Mrs. Roque and Tiffany would be back then.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I sat here, checked my email and other stuff on my phone.” Maisy slid her eyes over to Mrs. Roque. “I might have dozed off for a bit. The shout upstairs made me jump. I think the killer would have been no more than fifteen minutes ahead of me into Ziola’s room, twenty tops.”
Gladys returned from the sink to stand beside her granddaughter, drying her hands on a towel. She spread the towel on the oven door handle and then pick up the coffee pot.
“Why would you say that?” Tadmore centred his attention on Maisy. “How do you know?” He declined Gladys’ offer of a coffee refill with a hand gesture.
Maisy’s grandmother said nothing as she took the pot to the sink.
“Whoever it was in Ziola Nutt’s room wound the lantern. The light was giving off the brightest level of glow it’s capable of. Typically, it lasts about twenty minutes after being wound up. After that, the light drops down to its lowest level. Like a nightlight.” Maisy lifted one shoulder. “Those things might be a green alternative to kerosene lamps, Mrs. Roque,” she looked at her boss as she spoke. “But they are kind of useless as a decent light for doing anything, really.”
