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Maisy was a hair faster through the door with Tadmore right behind. The pair dashed out just as the scream was cut off by the sound of thumping. A crash greeted them as they rounded the corner. Maisy slid across the marble floor into the foyer as the cop pounded after her.
There was a body at the foot of the oak staircase. The small table beside the stairs was toppled over, a vase smashed and white silk carnations strewn on the floor.
“Oh, my God!” Angela cried as she emerged from the library with Bertram and Max right behind her. “She’s fallen down the stairs.” Angela rushed to the crumpled heap lying on the floor. It was Hazel Dell.
Maisy moved to help Angela assess her fellow author. She placed a hand on Angela’s arm. “Don’t move her yet, she might have broken something.”
The prone woman let out a moan of pain.
On the midway landing, where the stairs divided in two for each wing, stood Kent Westham. Tadmore frowned up at him. An odd expression, like shock, was evident on the other man’s face.
“What on earth is happening out here?” Mrs. Roque strode briskly from the dining room followed by Tiffany. They came to a stop beside the male authors.
Maisy knelt down by Angela to speak to Hazel. “Are you hurt?” She gently moved dark hair out of Hazel’s tear-filled eyes. “Go slow.” She eased Hazel’s arm down to her side from where it had been flung over her head.
“I don’t know.” The injured woman attempted to untangle her legs. “It was suddenly so cold. I felt—”
“As Maisy said take it slow.” Tadmore too now squatted down beside the dishevelled woman.
Hazel’s usual tight braid had loose strands of hair falling every which way. Two gel fingernails were broken, and one shoe had come off.
“I think I hurt my ribs. My left side is burning.” Hazel hissed air between her teeth and an ugly look formed on her features. She lifted her head and glared up the stairway at Kent. “You pushed me.” The accusation was shoved through clenched teeth with pure enmity. “I felt your hand on my back, you shoved me down the stairs.”
“I did no such thing.” Kent sounded outraged. His eyes darted to the cop and then to the other authors who moved forward to look up at him.
Various expressions of disbelief and confusion registered with Tadmore.
“I didn’t push her.” Now panic coloured his tone. “I never touched her.” The accused voice ratcheted up several notches.
“Kent, how could you?” Angela shot a menacing look up at the man.
“A better question is why,” Maisy said, and turned a frown up at Westham.
“I did not push Hazel down the stairs.” Spittle was pooling at the corners of his mouth as he clutched the railing and vehemently denied any involvement in Hazel’s accident.
“So, what did happen, then?” Tadmore straighten to his full height.
“I didn’t...Hazel, she threw herself down the stairs.” He stabbed an index finger at the prone woman. “She’s trying to frame me.” He shook his head, his tone sounded desperate and indignant to Tadmore’s ears. “She wants you to think I’m capable of monstrous things so you’ll charge me with Ziola’s murder.”
“Heh, this isn’t the first time she’s used that strategy.” Tiffany’s voice was muted, and Tadmore doubted the rest of those assembled in the foyer heard her words, but they were clear enough to him.
The cop narrowed his eyes at the other young woman as she in turn, glared at Hazel with loathing. Tiffany cocked one hip and folded her arms over her middle as she looked at the fallen woman with distaste, Tadmore was sure Tiffany meant what she said.
“Should I call for an ambulance?” Maisy asked the housekeeper.
“Not yet. I have experience dealing with injuries. I am first aid certified,” Mrs. Roque said as she came forward inserted herself between her employee and the guest lying on the marble floor.
Maisy grasped Mrs. Roque’s arm to steady the housekeeper as the older woman ponderously lowered herself down.
Once on the same level, Mrs. Roque began to examine the fallen woman’s arms and legs. “Nothing appears to be broken, unless you’ve fractured a rib.” She winced as she sat back on her heels with a frown of concern aimed at Hazel.
Tadmore nodded and turned to give Kent a steady look. “Mr. Westham, please come downstairs. We need to have a discussion.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Kent flung up his hands in exasperation.
“Why are you saying Ms. Dell is trying to frame you?” Tadmore lifted his eyebrows, hoping the author on the stairs would relax and calmly submit.
Kent shook his head, no doubt wishing he’d never opened his mouth to accuse Hazel. Tadmore didn’t want to have to chase the other man through the house, so he kept his voice level. “I have a couple of questions about Ms. Nutt.” He looked down at Hazel. “And what you know about Dunn Wolf’s finances.”
“Oh.” Kent nodded and slowly made his way down the staircase, keeping to the extreme right-hand side of the treads to avoid the fallen victim.
Mrs. Roque and Maisy helped the fall victim to sit up.
“Come along, gentlemen.” Mrs. Roque addressed Max and Bertram. “Help us get Ms. Dell moved to a more comfortable location.” She gestured for the men to come and help.
Maisy picked up Hazel’s fallen shoe. She leaned over to put the shoe in front of the injured woman so Hazel could slip it on as Bertram and Max helped her gain her feet. Maisy then stood and assisted her boss to clamber to her feet.
“We could call EMS and see if someone there is available.”
“I’ll call Jack.” Tadmore gestured for Kent to go ahead of him into the office.
“Where do you want us to take her?” Max asked.
“Into the library, please.” Mrs. Roque instructed the men. “Each of you put a shoulder under Ms. Dell’s.”
Tadmore’s phone pinged as he escorted Kent into the office. He glanced at the device and scrolled for a couple of seconds as he read. “Have a seat, Mr. Westham, while I make this call.”
Although Kent did as he was instructed, he kept his eyes down and leaned forward in his chair as he tugged down the navy vest of his suit. Tadmore kept his eyes on the man as the device rang on the other end of the call.
“Hey, Jack. Can I ask you for a favour?”
“Of course.”
The cop explained the situation with Hazel Dell and Jack agreed to come to Highmere House as soon as possible and assess the woman’s injuries.
After the call ended, Tadmore gave his interrogation subject a pensive look. “On second thought, let’s join everyone else in the library. Then I will be there when Jack arrives.”
Kent popped to his feet. “And you can keep your eye on that woman, good move.”
When the pair arrived at the library, Max and Bertram were getting Hazel settled in one of the Queen Anne chairs as Tadmore brought up the rear.
He grasped the matching armchair and moved it several feet away, but opposite from the first and offered Kent the seat. “Sit here, please.”
“Is Jack on his way?” The housekeeper asked as she supervised Hazel’s placement in the chair.
“He is.” Tadmore nodded.
“Good, I’ll ask Maisy to bring us a fresh pot of coffee.” Mrs. Roque turned to the other young woman to give the order. “Maybe some tea too.”
“Actually, Mrs. Roque,” Tadmore interjected. “I’d like everyone to just take a seat in here, please, for the moment.”
His eyes found Maisy’s and registered her grateful expression. The way their amber depts sparkled, he knew she didn’t want to be left out of the final stages of his investigation.
Still, this wasn’t the reason he wanted all the principals in the same room. Tadmore shifted his eyes away from her. He needed to make sure everyone was accounted for and under his supervision. If that meant Maisy thought he was doing this to include her, that was a side benefit.
“All right, Constable, if you think this is strictly necessary.” The housekeeper didn’t sound like she agreed with him but would go along for now.
The actual reason was his boss would expect this since Tadmore was the only cop on the scene. It shouldn’t be too long now until Inspector Zeffler wrapped up his conversation with their last witness and joined them. His boss had texted him just before he called Jack.
Tadmore slid the right pocket door closed, as the rest of the group took a seat or found a perch in the large book-lined room. He parked himself in front of the remaining open door. Things were about to get dicey.
The cop turned to study Kent while waiting for the group to settle before he spoke. Westham kept his gaze on his folded hands resting in his lap. The diminutive man had to sit forward to keep his feet flat on the vermillion carpet, one of the reasons Tadmore had chosen the winged-back chair.
Angela had parked herself on the settee next to Hazel’s chair and patted her shoulder, in a comforting manner.
“Now, first things first. Let’s deal with the fall down the stairs Ms. Dell.” He waited until Hazel looked at him. “Why did you fling yourself down the staircase?”
“I didn’t...I—”
“Of course you did.” Kent Westham snapped at her. “You’ve always been a drama queen. You think you can pin this whole debacle on me if you play the victim?” His words sounded less like a question, and more like a statement in fact.
Tadmore held up one hand, effectively stifling any further words from Westham. He pivoted to look at Tiffany leaning on the sideboard, arms still folded across her stomach. “Tiffany, what did you mean about Hazel using the same ‘strategy?”
Tiffany compressed her lips and then lifted her head. She appeared to make a decision and dropped her defensive pose, arms to her sides. Although her hands curled into fists.
The cop watched the young woman carefully. “You’ve seen Hazel do something like this before, haven’t you?” Tadmore shifted to first names, confident Tiffany and Hazel shared a history.
The young woman’s eyes shifted around the room, finally they locked on Mrs. Roque.
“Tiffany?” Mrs. Roque tipped her head at her employee. “Do you know something? It’s all right, please tell the Constable.”
The maid nodded at the housekeeper and stood up straighter. “I did know Hazel from St. Ursula’s. She was a couple years ahead of me. Back then, everyone knew who to steer clear of. If Hazel got into trouble, she would pretend she was the victim of some attack. She was a master at pointing the finger at someone else.”
As one, the others turned to look at Hazel. Angela stopped rubbing Hazel’s shoulder and blinked, shocked at the ugly expression on her friend’s face.
“How was Ms. Dell capable of getting away with this?” He kept his tone level and avoided inflection.
“Hazel would hurt herself.” Tiffany swallowed and her voice gained strength. “I saw her once when I was putting field hockey equipment away. I don’t think she knew I was in the storage room. She broke her own finger with a lacrosse stick. Betty Westbrook was blamed and was expelled, even though it was Hazel who gave Betty the fat lip first.”
“You’re lying.” Hazel grated the words out as she held her hand against her side, breathing shallowly. “You always were a liar.”
Tiffany slowly shook her head with her eyes locked on Hazel. An intense gleam appeared. “No, we all knew what you did. After Betty was gone, things began to go missing. Students blamed each other. Fights were common. Nobody knew who was getting into students’ rooms and lockers. Then you were caught leaving a dorm you had no business being in.” She nodded her head at Hazel. “Miss Mahon was taking you to see the head mistress. You flung yourself down the staircase and later said Miss Mahon pushed you because you were going to report her for inappropriate behaviour.”
“I never went to school at saint whatever. You can check. This is all lies.”
“You did. Your last name wasn’t Dell then, it was Linstrom. I remember you. You bullied me. Just like you tried to bully Betty and tried it on Miss Mahon. She was the best maths teacher at St. Ursula’s, and you drove her away.” Tiffany lifted her chin. “Betty didn’t have a friend like Sylvia to help her. I was lucky, unlike Miss Mahon and Betty. Hazel is the stone-cold liar. By the time the investigation was over, Miss Mahon had to resign and leave the school. It’s hard to prove something, when it never happened, but the thefts stopped.” She swallowed again. “I guess you decided not to press your luck. Sylvia always wondered how you learned to pick locks. She figured it had to be something you learned before you came to St. Ursula’s School for Young Ladies.”
“It was, probably from the company she kept at the juvenile offender’s detention facility,” Tadmore interjected, he’d watched Hazel through all of Tiffany’s story. Now he returned his phone to his pocket. “We have your background, Ms. Dell. You changed your name when you turned eighteen. You were Hazel Lindstrom before that, and you did attend St. Ursula’s school on an endowment for troubled youth.”
“I was on my own, I had problems, but I turned my life around. At least I’m not a murderer, not like Kent.” Hazel was beginning to sound desperate to Tadmore. “I stole, yes, but from strangers. At least I didn’t steal from my friends.” Her eyes cut back to Kent.
Max sat up straighter from his seat beside Angela, staring at Kent. “Wait, what?”
No one acknowledge his question as Hazel rambled on. “You were a criminal right from the start, I should have seen it.” Hazel’s eyes were red-rimmed and moist with tears. Real or manufactured, remained to be seen. “You told me you loved me.” The words sounded like a curse.
Kent turned his face away from Hazel.
“I’d like to know—” Max began again, and Angela hushed him patting his arm.
Tadmore walked toward Kent to get his attention. “You had a relationship with Ziola Nutt, didn’t you, Mr. Westham.” Tadmore said this without preamble. His phone pinged again and this time he took it out of his trouser pocket. He glanced at the device briefly and returned it to his pocket. “Well, Kent?” He looked again at the subject of his interrogation. “Please answer the question.”
The other man kept his head down and eyes glued to the hands tightly clenched in his lap. “Is this because of what Hazel told you?”
“No sir. It’s from what I’ve figured out from the testimony of a witness.” He regarded the author steadily. “You had a relationship with Ziola, in the past. You told Hazel it was all over, but something changed lately, and you attempted to rekindle your affair with your business partner. You did a flip flop. What happened to make you want to dump Ms. Dell and reinvolve yourself with Ziola?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Westham’s head came up and his eyes shifted sideways to look out of the window.
This pleased Tadmore, it meant he was making progress. Lies, like liars want to be found out. “The unfortunate thing is, Ziola wasn’t interested anymore, was she? She figured out your agenda and she was not going to share her revenue windfall with you. She knew you only wanted to get a share of the money from the video streaming deal. If she let you cozy up to her, you’d press her for a share of the money, Ziola knew this.”
Kent merely folded his arms across his chest.
“Or, at the very least, you wanted to receive more of the royalties, am I right? No wonder she hired a new accountant by the way.” He lifted his eyebrows at the other man. “I find it odd Ms. Nutt allowed you to stay as an author after she realized you were funneling company money into your own accounts.”
“None of that is true.” Westham crossed his arms over his chest.
“Of course, it is. When you got wind of the streaming deal, you knew that several of the books in the series were ghost written by other Dunn Wolf authors. After all, you were the accountant. Each of those books are expected to be an episode of the streaming series. Thus, each author is entitled to a share of the media royalties from the half million-dollar deal. Not to mention resale value on other platforms.”
This announcement sent a flurry of speculation through the other authors.
“Didn’t I say that? I told you,” Max said to no one in particular.
Angela hushed him again.
Tadmore raised his voice a notch over the hubbub. “We have your background, Kent. We know how you became involved with Ziola in the first place. You were the original owner of Dunn Wolf Publishing.” He paused again as the other authors expressed their shock. Mrs. Roque hushed them as a group.
Kent hunched his shoulders.
“Ziola came into money just at the time your publishing house was failing. Probably because you were bleeding the business dry. You needed an influx of capital in a hurry, so you offered Ziola a sweet deal. If she bought in, she could share in the profits. Did she negotiate a hard deal? Did you give up too much of the company in a bid to let her recoup her investment faster? To keep her interested?” Tadmore shook his head. “Then things began to get out of your control, didn’t they?”
“What? You are the other owner of the publishing house?” Bertram spoke for the first time from the corner of the other settee. “Figures.”
Tadmore tipped his head to one side as he watched Westham. “No one in this group knew you were the original publisher/owner of Dunn Wolf, did they? Ziola recruited the authors, they thought you were one of them. So did Hazel.”
He glanced at the silent woman. She was intently glaring at her former boyfriend. Her bottom jaw jutted out at an aggressive angle. Her breathing was coming in deep gasps as her anger grew, she forgot to hold her side in pain.
The cop turned back to Westham and continued, “As soon as Ziola took public possession of the small press you split the skimmed funds with her, still as a silent partner. That was your trap. Now she was in it up to her eyeballs too, or so you thought.”
“The sad thing is, I can see Ziola happily going along with all of this.” Bertram rubbed his bald head in frustration. “She wanted recognition so bad she could taste it and would love this scheme.” He snorted in derision. “Ziola knew there was no way for an author to know for sure what their sales were. We have to trust our publisher. We don’t get to see what the full financial statements look like. We never get full reporting. I doubt she knew how it felt to be ripped off by those you trust.” He bared his teeth in disgust. “But I do. I learned the hard way.”
The cop waited for Bertram’s rant to come to an end. Then he turned back to Kent. “Even after your relationship broke up you two were still partners.”
“Partners in crime.” Angela interjected and it was Max’s turn to shush her.
“Yes,” Tadmore gave Angela a nod of agreement. “They were. The lifestyle Ziola lived was much more extravagant than yours, wasn’t it, Kent? Did she take over managing everything, even the embezzlement?”
Kent closed his eyes and shook his head. Mute to the allegations, yet his body language was giving him away.
“You were greedy, or you were too much in debt, and still are, according to our forensic accountants.” Tadmore tapped the mobile phone in his pocket where he’d been receiving the details. “Your credit card debts are excessive. Collection agencies representing marketing companies are after you. Places which sell book reviews. Especially one such business claims they can promise to get your book on the New York Times best seller list because of their influential contacts.” Tadmore shook his head. “And for a hefty fee.”
“Then the tables turned on you when Ziola Nutt took control of the publishing business. She forced you to sign a new contract in exchange for cash. Either way, your debts were so massive you couldn’t argue. Nothing you, or the other authors, wrote sold nearly as well as Ziola’s series. So, you put up with the arrangement.” He paused for effect. “For a while.”
“We all worked on her books.” Max scowled at the cop. “Do you think our illustrious Ms. Nutt could come up with all those unique plots herself? We received pennies for our work. Ziola owes all of us.”
Bertram looked at Max and nodded in agreement.
Tadmore stood square in front of his subject. “I’m willing to bet that at some point, your share dried up after the new contract. Ziola decided to keep your cut, didn’t she? What could you say? You were just as guilty as she was of fraud, and embezzlement. If you tried to change anything or even thought about reporting Ziola, you’d be right there in it with her. Wouldn’t you? No matter what you said to the rest of your colleagues, you also couldn’t claim common-law spouse, she was careful to never share living space with you.”
“Ziola took advantage of me.” The words burst out of Kent Westham. “Just like she did Bertram. He’s partly responsible for the success Ziola built and she gave him nothing. She built her success on Bertram’s work, and she laughed at him while she took the lion’s share of the money and fame.”
“I know, and now he stands to make out quite well. As her only relative, Bertram will inherit his sister’s assets. So, all ends well for Bertram Nutt, but not for you.” Tadmore paused a moment and pivoted to look at Hazel. “And not for Hazel Dell.”
“Bertram wasn’t in his room when I stopped by, he was in Ziola’s room, murdering her.” Kent released the stream of words. “He has the contract.”
He glared at Bertram. The other man narrowed his eyes at Kent but said nothing.
“Mr. Nutt was down here in the library,” Tadmore said. “How did you know the contract is missing?”
The sound of the main front doors opening reached them. Mrs. Roque hopped to her feet at the echoes of voices in the foyer. She briskly walked around Tadmore and out of the room.
