Chapter 24
I shivered at the thought. Someone had gained access to the carriage house during my absence. Actually, two people had—Jacquie and this unknown person who crossed the wires. But no one could have known she would be sneaking in for food. She had known about the security guard, so she must have been watching and waiting for him to leave.
The person who intentionally caused a short in the refrigerator must have planned ahead. Whoever it was couldn’t have known Jacquie would be the one who opened the door.
My pulse raced. That dangerous door was meant for me.
“Should you check the other appliances and the ones in the mansion?”
“Might be a good idea.”
He handed me a laminated card. “This was behind the refrigerator. Probably a previous tenant.”
I recognized the face on the card immediately—Emily Branscom, the local author and historian. It was a gym membership card, dated this year. I thanked him and tried to hide my surprise.
Had Emily lived here? Perhaps she had been a guest and had dropped it. What had Zsazsa said about her? She was having an affair. An affair so discreet that no one knew the identity of her lover. I had a feeling I knew who he was now. Maxwell.
I fetched my purse and located the phone number Jonquille had given me.
Despite the late hour, he sounded wide awake when he answered the phone. He had wanted concrete evidence, and I had it. “Something suspicious has happened here. Could you come over? There’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”
“Are you at the store?”
“No. I’m at home, in the carriage house.”
“I’ll be right there.”
While I waited for him, I debated what to say. I had already told Alan that a friend was here. I couldn’t backtrack on that. Jonquille might push me on it. Should I tell him it was Jacquie Liebhaber? She had said she was counting on me and that it was a matter of life or death.
I had a desire to keep her secret. Even though I didn’t know her, I had read her books and felt a kinship to her. Like she was a friend. It was entirely irrational. Authors were just like everyone else, and it was possible that she was peculiar. Could she be carrying out some kind of personal drama? She hadn’t given me that impression. No one could fake that kind of fear. Could they?
Or maybe I felt I owed her an allegiance because she had been married to Maxwell. That made no sense, either. Delbert had been his nephew, and I had no allegiance to him whatsoever.
True to his word, Jonquille arrived in fifteen minutes. I introduced him to Alan, who explained what he had found.
Jonquille gazed around. “Where’s your friend?”
“She left.”
He turned his attention to Alan. “There’s no possibility that the wires were crossed months ago and it only now became dangerous?”
“This wasn’t some frayed wire that was rubbing on something and getting progressively worse. This was cross-wired,” said Alan. “It had to have been done recently.”
“Now do you believe that the burglary of the mansion was connected to Delbert’s death?” I asked Jonquille.
Jonquille took a deep breath. “Who would want to kill you?”
I stared at him with annoyance. “No one!” But my heart still raced, and a wave of queasiness washed over me.
“Where was the guard? I’d like to speak with him or her. Will you be okay here with Alan?” he asked.
“Maybe I should go with you.”
We walked over to the mansion. I didn’t need to use my key because the back door was unlocked.
Jonquille wiped an impatient hand over his brow and shook his head. He marched into the kitchen and very politely spoke with the nurse and the guard, asking what time they went on duty. Both of them had been there since seven p.m.
I knew for a fact that the guard had been lounging comfortably in the kitchen since I came over to call Alan. Had I been braver, I would have pointed that out. But it turned out that I didn’t need to.
Jonquille asked, “Which one of you ordered the pizza?”
Each of them pointed at the other.
“Oldest trick in the book,” said Jonquille. He lifted the box top and read the name on it. Pizza Man.
The guard seemed nervous. “Listen, I need this job. So I messed up. I thought—”
Jonquille interrupted him. “No you didn’t. You didn’t think at all. You’re lucky no one was killed.”
While Jonquille called his buddy at the security company for a replacement, I slinked back to Mr. DuBois’s room to look in on him.
I cracked the door to a dark room.
DuBois screamed. “Help me. Someone help me!”
I flicked on the light. He was sitting up in bed holding the covers in his hands pulled up to his chin.
“It’s just Florrie, Mr. DuBois.” I strode to his side. “What are you so afraid of?”
“It’s his meds. Happens to old folks,” said the nurse from the doorway. “Nothing to worry about.”
I reached out for Mr. DuBois’s hand and clutched it in mine. “Would you prefer to sleep with a night-light? Would you feel safer?”
Some of the fear in his eyes melted away.
“What if I read to you for a while?” I switched on a light and checked out titles on his bookshelves. How about a Jacquie Liebhaber book?”
Jonquille looked in on us as I settled into a chair next to the bed, opened the book, and read.
I never dreamt that I might find myself on the wrong side of the law. Up to that moment, I had always done the right thing. Had been a devoted wife and doting mother. But I hadn’t met evil. Hadn’t understood that sometimes, the only way to save oneself was to eliminate the Earl of Darkness.
Wearing black clothes and a dark scarf covering my copper curls, I pulled the oven forward and crossed the wires....
Jonquille seized the book from my hands. He scanned the first few pages. “This is like a blueprint for what happened at the carriage house!”
It was worse than that because the woman who had written it was the one who had been injured. Unless it had all been a hoax. It couldn’t have been, though, because Alan confirmed that the wires were crossed. What had she said? They would kill her and make it look like an accident. I was torn about whether to tell Jonquille about Jacquie’s visit.
She needed help. But there wasn’t anything Jonquille could do for her now that she had left. And knowing that she had been here wouldn’t change anything, either. I had promised her, and for the time being at any rate, I couldn’t see the benefit in spilling her secret. For all I knew, it could somehow make matters worse for her.
When we returned to the carriage house, Alan had finished methodically checking the wiring of the major appliances.
“You’re sure we’re safe now?” I asked.
“Positive. Everything else was perfect. It was just the refrigerator that was wired wrong.”
I let Peaches out of her carrier. If Jonquille hadn’t been with me, I would have been tempted to go over to the mansion to do some snooping. Something was going on that I didn’t understand. Maybe I could find a clue there.
When Alan left, Jonquille said, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sleep on your sofa tonight. They’re sending a different guard out, but I would feel better if I were here with you.”
My head reeled. Okay, so he had the most amazing blue eyes in the world. He was still something of a stranger to me. On the other hand, I would probably sleep better if I knew he was downstairs. It was very late. I could still drive out to my parents’ house but they were surely sound asleep by now, and it would wake them if I arrived.
Jonquille tilted his head. “You’re not saying anything.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not used to things like this happening to me. It’s all a little strange. I’m used to being a bit of a bore.”
Jonquille laughed aloud. “Florrie Fox, you are anything but a bore.”
“Could I offer you a glass of wine?”
“Ordinarily I would say yes. However, I’d prefer to be on the ball tonight. Just in case. Don’t look so worried! I don’t think anything will happen. But I’d rather err on the side of caution. How about a soda or some water?”
I poured sparkling blackberry juice into glasses for both of us. We settled in the great room, with Frodo at my feet, and Peaches prowling.
“I don’t really know anything about you,” I said. “Did you grow up around here?”
“I’m from Paris.”
I blinked at him.
“Paris, Virginia.” He smiled. “That never gets old. It’s a tiny place not too far outside DC. My mom is an artist and my dad is a chef who has a restaurant out that way. They live on a pretend farm with unruly goats, chickens that lay eggs with yolks the color of orange marigolds, a couple of rescued cows and horses, five cats, and a one-eyed dog named Jack. I have two brothers and two sisters, and that’s about it.”
“A pretend farm?”
“They don’t actually farm, except for one section of farm-to-table veggies that my dad serves. Mostly they just collect animals who need homes and run up extravagant veterinary bills.”
“They sound like wonderful people.”
“I’m fairly fond of them,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “But I’m worried about you.”
“Me, too. I don’t understand why anyone would want to harm me. I had nothing to do with Delbert’s murder.”
Jonquille quizzed me about who might be angry with me. I had no answers.
I was beat and we both had work in the morning, so I reluctantly went up to bed sooner than I’d have liked. It was late and I was exhausted, but wired by Jonquille’s presence and the horrible thought that someone had now targeted me. I snuggled on the bed with Peaches and Frodo, and sketched Jacquie’s face with colored pencils. She was probably in her seventies, but her face was remarkably unlined. Either she’d had work done or she took very good care of her skin. I ought to take a cue from that. She hadn’t worn a stitch of makeup but still looked good.
In every photo I had seen of her, she had worn her blond hair in a perfect shoulder length bob. But when I saw her today, it was wavy and unruly, as if she hadn’t blown it dry. Maybe that was her usual look when she wasn’t blown dry, styled, and primped for being photographed?
Her clothes had been unusual, too. She had been dressed in a snow-white oversized man’s button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of cutoff jeans that didn’t fit her well, with high-heeled shoes.
As I added details to the sketch, I reviewed what I knew for sure about Jacquie, which was precious little. Trying to sort what she had claimed from what was verifiable, I drew as I thought it all through.
I doodled the lock on my door because she was able to gain access to the carriage house while I was out. Next to it, I drew a key. Would she still have one? Maybe the lock had never been changed? Maybe there had been a key in a hiding place somewhere that I didn’t know about?
She’d said she was looking for food. I sketched the refrigerator and a sandwich with frilly lettuce sticking out of it. I believed her story because the burn on her hand proved she had touched the refrigerator door handle.
And finally, I knew she was “missing” and that a private investigator had been hired to find her.
To me, it all added up to one thing. She was on the run, hiding from someone. She had said she was safe here. And she didn’t want me to call her husband. Was he the person from whom she was running? But hadn’t she said they—plural?
I was sorry she had left. Not because I wanted to attract whatever trouble was following her, but because I hated to think of her out on the street, dodging between shadows lest she be seen. I hoped she had another safe place to take refuge.
It was two in the morning before I had calmed down enough to try to sleep. Even then, I lay awake for a long time, thinking about Jacquie. She appeared to have a great life, but under the surface, something was very, very wrong.
* * *
Despite the late night, I was up early in the morning, eager to get going. After a shower, I dressed for work in a simple coral top and a full skirt that reminded me of an impressionist painting of huge blooms in corals, pinks, oranges, reds, and a splash of turquoise.
I smelled coffee as I was walking down the stairs.
“How do you like your eggs?” asked Jonquille.
“I like them every way possible. But you don’t have to cook me breakfast.”
“Scrambled it is. Are you one of those people who doesn’t eat breakfast?” he asked.
“No, I always have a bite to eat in the morning.” I pulled out the wild blueberry buns and placed one on each of the two plates he had set out.
“I’m glad you were up early. I have two hours to zoom home, shower, and get to work.”
After feeding Peaches, I carried the plates out to the garden. Jonquille followed me with mugs of coffee.
Birds twittered in the trees, and the sun glinted on the goldfish in the pond. Frodo roamed, probably sniffing out squirrel tracks.
“I can see why you like living here. Most of us peons who live in the city don’t have any outdoor space. My apartment is fine but it’s not much more than a place to sleep, shower, and do laundry. On the other hand”—he grinned—“it’s very close to work.”
“I would say you’re welcome to come over here and enjoy the garden, but I think I’ll be bunking with my parents for a while.”
“You’re afraid to live here?”
I hated to admit it, but I nodded and sipped the coffee. I didn’t back off from a challenge, but I wasn’t gutsy like Veronica and my mom. Besides, this was different. “It sounds terrible, but when Delbert was murdered, I thought I could relax and enjoy this place. But those switched wires on the refrigerator”—I paused and considered my words carefully so I wouldn’t imply that Jacquie had been here—“mean that someone gained access to the carriage house while I was out. Even with a guard on duty. And here’s the bigger thing—why would anyone want to kill me? Honestly, Jonquille—”
He interrupted me. “You can call me Eric.”
I smiled at him. “Honestly, Eric, I’m no angel, but I haven’t done anything that would agitate anyone. I’m actually a very quiet, uninteresting person.” As I said that, an image of Delbert’s mother Liddy shouting at me in the mansion foyer jumped into my head.
“You’re anything but uninteresting, Florrie.” Jonquille finished the last bite of his eggs. “Here’s the thing. I think you’ll be safer here. What if the person who is after you follows you to your parents’ house? What then?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. I would feel safer at home with my parents, but would I be leading someone there and putting my parents in danger?
“Don’t look so dismayed. Felipe will be here shortly. I’m calling the guard service again this morning. They need to understand that this isn’t just a babysitting job where the guard can sit around in the kitchen and flirt with the nurse. I don’t mean to sound crass, but is there a way Maxwell could pay for some cameras? This is a big place, but there are some very cool and uncomplicated video cameras we could set up around the property. All we need is an iPhone or an iPad to hook them up to. That way we can watch more areas at one time.”
This was sounding very appealing. “I think I can talk Maxwell’s attorney into something like that. Plus, if the guy comes back, maybe we can identify him from the video.”
“Call me when you get the okay, and I’ll have a buddy of mine set it up. And, if I’m not being too forward, I can sleep over on the sofa for the time being.”
It took a lot of willpower not to jump up and hug him. But from the grin on his face, I gathered my expression had conveyed my gratitude. “Thanks, Eric.”
“In the meantime, I’m going to show you a little trick that private investigators sometimes use.”
Jonquille rose and strolled through the garden. He returned with the dried stem from a spent flower. “We need thirteen of these.”
I roamed the garden with him in search of the straw-like material.
When he placed a tiny bit of straw in the hinge side of one of the French doors, I understood what he was doing.
“This was in a mystery I once read. I should have thought of it myself.” In the story, a private investigator marked doors with a bit of straw to know if someone had entered while he was watching the other side of the house. The straw wasn’t very noticeable unless someone was on alert for it. If a door was opened, the straw would fall, and on his return, the missing straw would alert him that someone had entered or left the house.
Jonquille and I carefully placed them where they wouldn’t be noticed in each of the French doors.
With Peaches in her carrier, and Frodo on his leash, we marked the front door. I left for work, and Jonquille went home to shower.
Jim was already on his bench when I arrived.
“You’re early again today, Florrie.”
“I have a lot to do. I’ll be back shortly with some cupcakes and coffee.”
“Everything okay? You look troubled.”
“Busy day, that’s all,” I lied.
As soon as I was inside the bookstore, I let Peaches out of her carrier, unlatched Frodo’s leash, and pulled Detective-Sergeant Zielony’s card out of my purse. To my great surprise, he answered the phone when I called.
“Good morning, Detective-Sergeant Zielony. I was wondering when I will be able to enter the third floor. I have some business matters to take care of in the professor’s office.”
The words flowed out of my mouth so smoothly that it frightened me. Was I turning into a liar? My heart pounded in anticipation of him catching me in my fib, though it wasn’t entirely untrue. I did need to look around for bills that needed to be paid.
“Yeah. I think we’re done there. I’ll send someone over to remove it.”
Feeling courageous, I added, “And for your information, I would like to clarify that I am not involved in a romantic relationship with Professor Maxwell.” There! I had said it. I felt much relieved and very bold.
There was a long moment of silence on his end.
“Then who are you seeing?”
“No one.”
“Florrie, you’ll get a lot farther with me if you tell me the truth. I know otherwise.”
I was stunned. “Then you’re wrong.”
He snorted and said goodbye.
I was on the verge of shaking. Why did that man make me so nervous? Probably because he had jumped to conclusions and socked the professor in jail.
Peaches mewed and pawed at me.
I stroked her, taking comfort in her purrs. “Thanks, Peaches, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
I plucked a dried stem off a plant in the store and hurried to the back door, where I inserted it in the hinge, just as Jonquille and I had done at the carriage house. I returned to the front of the store, grabbed my purse, and headed out, taking care to lock the door behind me so Peaches and Frodo would be safe.
“Hey, Jim! Keep an eye on the place, will you?”
He gave me a little salute.
I almost jogged down the block in my hurry. But at the end of the block, I spied Sugar Dreams Cupcakes. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The shop had that sparkling new look. “Hi! So this is where you moved. I’d like two dozen assorted cupcakes, please.”
The clerk opened a box and proceeded to fill it. “We love the new location. The old shop was okay, but the bank was taking over the building, and we were a little nervous about a new owner, so the time seemed right for a move. Sometimes it’s a good idea to get ahead of these things.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood. You’ll be seeing me a lot.”
She handed me the boxes. “I hope so!”
I walked back as fast as I could.
When I reached the steps of Color Me Read, Jim shouted to me, “All’s well, capitan!”
I waved at him and opened the door, wondering where he picked up the European version of captain. Frodo waited for me at the door, with his tail wagging, but Peaches had made herself at home on a high shelf.
I selected two cupcakes I thought Jim would like and poured a cup of coffee to take to him. Leaving the door unlocked, I carried them out to him.
He inhaled deeply. “Coffee and fresh cupcakes. I’m a lucky guy.”
I watched him curiously. How many homeless people on a bench would consider themselves lucky? I exchanged a few words with him before hustling back to the store.
I checked the back door to be sure the straw was still in place. With both doors locked, I did something completely out of character for me. I walked up to the second floor, tore off one end of the crime scene tape, and dared to walk up the stairs to the spot where Delbert had been murdered.