It was early evening and the castle’s guests had yet to gather to witness the rolling sunset. However, the patio was filled with Reddings. I pretended to be surprised to see them there.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Perhaps you would care to inform us,” Anna said.
She was sitting alone more or less in the center of the patio as appropriate to the clan’s new matriarch—the king is dead, long live the queen. On her far right sat Carly. Near her, but not with her, sat Marian. Eden and Alex had claimed a spot two tables away. Olivia sat alone on the left next to a table occupied by Jenness and Nina. Everyone looked serious except Nina, who was smiling as if this was the most fun she ever had. She actually winked at me.
Would you stop it? my inner voice said.
“I came for the bourbon,” I said aloud.
A waitress appeared and I ordered a double of maple-flavored Knob Creek, no ice.
“May I?” I asked and sat at Anna’s table without waiting for her reply.
“The chief of police asked us to meet her here,” Marian said.
“She did?”
“Just a little while ago.”
“Where’s Ed?”
“On the combine.”
“Why did the chief ask to meet us?” Olivia asked.
“Convenience, I suppose. Last I heard, she was asking a judge to issue a warrant for the arrest of the person who murdered your brother. Probably, she doesn’t want the suspect wandering off.”
“Does she think it’s one of us?” Marian asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said.
“I thought you were helping,” Eden said.
“There’s help and then there’s help. I’m not actually a police officer, remember? Legally, there are things I’m not allowed to do.”
“Like arrest anyone,” Nina said.
She smiled at me. I smiled back.
“Among others,” I said.
“Veronica’s not here,” Anna said.
“She’s not?”
I pretended to look around even as the waitress set my drink in front of me. I made an effort to pay except Jenness announced, “On the house.” The waitress smiled and moved away. I promised myself I’d give her a nice tip the next time I saw her.
“It was Veronica, wasn’t it?” Anna asked. “Veronica Bickner.”
“We don’t think so,” I said.
“But her fingerprints…”
“You were correct, Dr. Redding.” She seemed pleased that I used her title. “Mrs. Bickner did spend the evening with your brother, leaving behind her fingerprints and other—identifying characteristics. Plus, she readily admitted to having an affair with your brother since they were in high school together…”
“The whore…”
“There’s no need for that,” Olivia said.
“You’re a whore, too.”
Olivia stood and for a moment, I thought she would march across the patio and smack Anna upside her head. Only Nina stood and blocked her path. She leaned in and whispered something to her that I couldn’t hear and Olivia resumed her seat.
“In any case,” I said, “Mrs. Bickner left the castle a good fifteen minutes before Big Ben was shot.”
“How do you know?” Anna said.
“There was a witness.”
“I didn’t…” She checked herself. “I didn’t know that.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. In the murder business, we always talk about motive, means, and opportunity. Yet none of that means squat without specific evidence tying the suspect to the crime.”
“Is there any specific evidence?” Alex asked.
“Dr. Redding mentioned fingerprints. It turns out the suspect screwed up.”
“How?” Anna asked.
“Whoever wiped off the handgun before dropping it next to the bedroom window missed a spot.” I held my thumb and index finger an inch apart, my hand pointing downward like I was holding something scummy. “At the tip of the barrel.”
“Whose fingerprints are they?” Carly asked.
“Eden.”
“Me?”
Eden Redding seemed genuinely shocked that I had called on her.
“Your fingerprints are on file, aren’t they?” I said. “Because of your numerous busts for disorderly conduct, violating curfews, failure to disperse, resisting arrest during your many protests against social injustice.”
“I’ve never resisted arrest.”
“You said that you saw Heimdall burn the cross the other night; you organized protests against the Sons of Europa because of it. Except it wasn’t Heimdall, was it?”
“I saw someone.”
“It wasn’t Heimdall. It wasn’t the Sons of Europa.”
“Who was it?” Jenness asked.
“Eden?” I asked.
She refused to answer.
“Stop playing games, McKenzie,” Alex said.
“Dr. Redding,” I said. “Who did Eden see Wednesday night?”
“It was Ben,” Olivia said.
“That’s not possible,” Eden said.
“Dr. Redding,” I said. “Is it possible?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Just seeking a second opinion.”
“Ben did it to influence Eden’s vote,” Olivia said.
Eden dropped her head into her hands.
“What have I done?” she asked.
“What you’ve always done,” I said. “You took a stand against injustice. That you were lied to is on the liar, not you.”
“McKenzie, I didn’t kill Ben.”
“I know; you were asleep at the time.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Anna asked.
“If Eden had been awake, she would have noticed Carly carrying the Remington and Whistler paintings past her cabin on her way to the honeybee shack.”
“It was Carly all along,” Eden said. “I knew it. I just knew you stole the paintings.”
“Oh, relax,” Carly said. “I was just storing them for safekeeping.”
“That’s garbage,” Alex said.
“It was Carly who killed Ben,” Eden said.
“No,” I said. “Carly was in Redding when the crime took place. Same with Olivia.”
“I told you,” Carly said.
“Who then?” Eden asked.
“Marian,” I said.
“But—but I was in Willmar,” she said. “You can check.”
“The chief did. She’s very thorough. But please…”
“Talk straight, McKenzie,” Alex said.
I think he’s starting to get annoyed. They all are. Better start wrapping this up.
“Marian,” I said aloud. “After Tess died, you helped clean out her room.”
“Yes.”
“Did you happen to come across a .32-caliber handgun that had been owned by your father?”
Marian’s eyes grew wide.
“Joseph bought it in 2001, just a few years before he passed.” I said. “Pretty sure Tess kept it, though. When you were cleaning out her room…”
“It was in the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed,” Marian said. “I didn’t touch it. I hate guns. I said … Anna was with me. I told her to get rid of it. She—she laughed at me and said I was a little coward.”
“I said you were acting unduly frightened as a child might; that’s not the same thing,” Anna said. “Language matters.”
“Dr. Redding,” I said.
“I put the gun with the other personal possessions that we took out of my mother’s room. I have no idea what happened to it after that. That’s what you wish to know, correct?”
“Motive, means, opportunity.”
“I’ll play your silly parlor game,” Anna said. “What was my motive?”
“Jealousy, to start with.”
“Jealous of whom?”
“Olivia, Veronica—who else was Ben sleeping with besides you?”
I heard a collective gasp from the other Reddings. Anna’s response was to actually snort at me.
“That’s very uncivilized,” I told her.
“It’s what you deserve for that filthy accusation.”
“Ben spent the better part of Tuesday afternoon with a woman at the Riverboat Hotel in Redding.”
“What of it?” Anna asked.
“We showed the desk clerk a photograph. This photograph.” I held up my cell phone for Anna to see; her pic filled the screen. “It was taken off the staff and faculty page of the Southwest Minnesota State University website.”
Anna stared at her pic for a few beats more and glanced at the rest of the Reddings.
“Why would you drive forty minutes to meet your brother in a hotel room for two hours and drive forty minutes back home, and return to the castle the very next day as if nothing happened?” I asked.
“If you had asked me in private, McKenzie, I would have told you the truth. We met to discuss the future of the castle without the distraction and near hysterical input of our younger siblings.”
That actually sounds plausible, my inner voice admitted.
I kept pushing.
“You left Jenny’s bedroom,” I said. “You heard someone fumbling with the latch to the door leading to the servant stairs…”
“What I heard,” Carly said.
“You hid in the art gallery,” I added. “That’s why you were upset when you learned that the paintings had been stolen. You were in the gallery and you hadn’t noticed. That’s because you were so intent on watching Veronica Bickner sneak to Ben’s door and knock softly. He let her in and you went down to the lobby. Eventually, you left. You were gone for forty minutes. Did you stay outside all that time or did you wait in the kitchen until Veronica went home? Doesn’t matter. Immediately after she departed—you were the witness I mentioned earlier, by the way—after she departed, you climbed the servant stairs and went to Ben’s room. You confronted him. I don’t know what was said or why. I don’t care. I do know that you shot him three times in the chest. Before you could leave, though, Jenness was at the door. You locked her out, at the same time locking yourself in. When I came through the window, you seized the opportunity to escape, climbing down the ladder, circling the castle, and coming through the door just in time to comfort your niece. The timing is well documented.”
“What complete and utter nonsense.”
Anna was standing now. I stood with her.
“You left your book in the bedroom,” I said. “That is also documented.”
“I explained the book.”
“Now explain the gun.”
“I told you what I did with the gun. Determining how it came to be found in the bedroom is your job, not mine.”
“Explain your fingerprints on the gun.”
“You’re bluffing, McKenzie. Unlike dear Eden, I’m not a criminal. My fingerprints are not on file.”
“Yes, they are. You mentioned it the other night in the art gallery when you were examining the Whistler. Remember? At the University of Colorado you had to submit your fingerprints in order to work as a student teacher in the Colorado Department of Education. It was part of your degree program. They were forwarded to the FBI’s database along with forty million other employment-related fingerprints.”
“That was nearly forty years ago.”
“And yet fingerprints never change.”
Anna didn’t have a ready reply to that one. Her silence was punctuated by the sound of a police siren. It seemed very near.
Nice touch, Deidre, you clever, clever girl.
“They’re coming for you, Anna,” I said aloud.
“That’s Doctor Redding to you. And let them. I do not fear the police. Perhaps they will believe me when I testify that the fingerprints found on the gun must have been left there when I handled the weapon over a month ago.”
Also quite plausible. You’re in trouble.
She knew it, too. Anna smiled at me; smiled as if she had won something and leaned in close, so only I could hear her voice.
“Despite your filthy mind, I didn’t kill my brother because of some incestuous sex fantasy or because he might reveal my involvement in the cross burning. That’s why you’ll never convict me. You’re not intelligent enough to ascertain why I actually did it, why I smiled when I did it, are you?”
“I don’t need to be,” I whispered back.
My words didn’t faze her one bit. Anna straightened up and smiled some more. She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What do they say on TV?” she said. “This is a bum rap.”
“Did you get all that?” I asked.
Chief Gardner stepped onto the patio followed by Officers Phillip Holzt and Jim Overvig; they had been hiding in the dining room.
“I got it,” she said. She held up a recording device as proof.
“What is this?” Anna asked.
I pulled a tiny transmitter from beneath my collar and showed it to her.
“It’s a wire,” I said. “You would know that if you actually did watch a lot of TV.”
“When you get to prison, ask if they show reruns of Murder, She Wrote,” the chief said.
Officer Holtz pulled Anna’s arms behind her back and put the cuffs on her.
“You’re under arrest,” the chief said.
“Where’s Doogie?” I asked.
Chief Gardner’s reply was to smirk as she started reading Anna her rights from a laminated card that she held in her hand—“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court…”
The Reddings were all standing. They watched us as if in a trance; as if they were waiting for someone to explain what they were witnessing.
“I have nothing to say,” Anna said.
“That’s okay,” the chief told her. “You’ve said enough. McKenzie?”
“Dee?”
“It’s always a pleasure to watch Jessica Fletcher at work.”
“I hate you, Dee.”
“We’ll talk soon.”
“It better be soon. I’m going home. I mean it this time.”
There was plenty of commotion on the patio as Chief Gardner and her officers escorted Anna Redding out of the castle. Voices were raised. Questions were asked. I answered some and ignored the rest. Eventually, I made my way across the patio to where my wife was standing. We wrapped our arms around each other.
“What did you tell Olivia to keep her from punching out Anna?” I asked.
“I told her that you knew what you were doing.”
“So, you lied.”
“Why did Anna do it? Do you know?”
“My guess—all these years Anna never forgave Ben for stealing her honeybees and she remained jealous of his women. When she realized, while watching the prom queen from the art gallery, that things would never change, she finally took her revenge.”
The three most common motives for murder, my inner voice said.
“McKenzie?” Nina said.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m so glad you’re not a detective.”