part0037

“A big, beautiful, happy nerve!” Coco Rigby swept into the room and made a bee-line for yours truly. “I just heard the marvelous news. Good job!”

I pulled away from her embrace. “You know about Karen’s phone call?”

“Jonathan told me.”

“The staff knows she called me?”

“The staff knows everything, darling.” She twirled around and hugged her cousin. “Ta-da! Karen is alive!” She addressed me again. “Do tell all, Jessie. Is she safe? Is she sound? What did she say? I simply cannot wait to hear.”

I bit my lip, and Coco squinted.

“You’re not allowed to tell me anything, are you?”

“Karen is alive,” I said, but instead of smiling, I frowned. “But your cousin and I were discussing other things.”

Coco looked back and forth between us.

“Mother,” he told her. “We were discussing how happy Mother would be about Karen and me.”

“Oh, heavens yes. Dear Auntie Isobel would have adored Karen.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “However, that is not what we were discussing.”

“Pee-Pie?” Coco asked, clearly confused.

He snarled. “Okay, okay,” he said. “We were discussing Gerald’s supposed infatuation with Mother.”

“Yes, that!” he snapped. He tossed his cue stick onto the table. “I give up.”

Coco shot me a glance and took her cousin by the elbow. “Let’s sit down,” she said as she led him to a grouping of leather club chairs in the corner.

I followed, all the while listening to Piers sputter on and on about ugly rumors and trivial details.

“Yes, Pee-Pie,” Coco spoke soothingly, but used a firm hand to sit the man down. She gestured to me, and the two of us took seats also. “But you know this particular rumor has lingered for decades,” she told him. “One must consider the possibility.”

She pursed her lips and turned to me. “Why, Jessie darling?”

I had no idea. “But who knows what detail or rumor might help us find Karen.”

She nodded to her cousin. “Jessie is right, as usual. Do let’s tell her, Pee-Pie?”

He snarled again. “I think Gerald was in love with my mother,” he mumbled.

“He was,” Coco clarified. “For decades.”

“And Mother was flattered,” Piers said. “But she and Father were happily married. Happily,” he repeated, as if expecting an argument.

I thanked him for his honesty. “But I now have to raise another delicate topic.”

“Abigail,” Coco said.

“The staff knows everything, darling. But of course she and Gerald weren’t married back then.”

I scowled. “Why did I think they’ve been married for decades?”

“Oh, heavens no. Only for the past few years.”

“They dated for decades,” he told me. “But they didn’t get married until after Mother passed away.”

“Any-hoo!” Coco spoke a bit too loudly. “Dear Gerald and Abigail are happily married now, yes?”

“That’s right!” Piers agreed a bit too loudly. “All’s well that ends well.”

I shook my head and once again decided to change the subject. “Did it work?” I asked Coco.

I pointed to her exquisite suit—Chanel no doubt—and stated the obvious. “You’ve changed out of your livery. ”

“Horseback riding helps you think,” I reminded her. “Did you identify the killer? Did you find Karen?”

“Oh, heavens, wouldn’t that be marvelous? Nevertheless, thanks to you, Jessie, we do know she’s alive.” She stood up. “Let’s go someplace fun to celebrate, yes?”

“No,” I said. “I mean, it is excellent news, but no thank you.”

She appealed to her cousin, but Piers declined also, and she reluctantly concluded she would have to toodle off without us.

“Where to?” Piers asked, and her answer—I kid you not—was Tokyo.

“May I borrow Mallory?” she asked, and seemed rather surprised when her cousin said no to that request also. “But you know Mallory is anxious to get out of here,” she said.

“She already is out,” Piers said, and mentioned that Mallory had the afternoon off.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll just drive myself.”

“To Tokyo?” Yes, that was me. And yes, it was a stupid question. But while Coco explained the obvious—that she would have to choose someplace closer to Clarence—my brain returned to working mode.

“Why is Mallory anxious to get out of here?” I asked.

Coco skipped a beat. “Surely she isn’t a suspect?”

“We’re all suspects,” Piers mumbled, and his cousin seemed to consider that notion for the very first time.

“Dear Mallory is frightened by all these horrid crimes,” she told me eventually. “She didn’t even want to fly me back here last night.” Coco shuddered and headed for the door. “Any-hoo, I’ll just be toodling off.”

“Beware of Jimmy Beak,” I called after her.

She stopped and turned. “Yes, Jessie,” she said. “He is at the front gate. However, I am not to speak to him.” She threw me a kiss, did the same for her cousin, and offered one last “Toodle-oo” before toodling off.

“I should be toodling, too,” I told Piers .

“To Tate’s?” he asked.

I nodded. “I can’t wait to see Candy’s face when I tell her Karen call—” I stopped. “Jonathan?” I scowled at the footman in the doorway, but Piers seemed not at all surprised.

“He’s here to see you out,” he told me.

“But how did he know I was leav—” I shook my head and didn’t bother finishing the question. This guy wasn’t the junior butler for nothing. Clearly he had learned the fine art of spying from the master himself. The master, in this case, being senior butler Gerald Witherspoon.

I gave Piers a hug as we stood up. “Will you be okay?” I asked. “Not too lonely?”

“I almost wish.” He reminded me of all the messages he’d been getting. “It will take me all day and then some to get back to people.”

He handed me off to the junior butler, and I decided to make good use of my time. As we headed to the front doors, I asked Jonathan what he thought of Gerald. “I assume he’s your immediate supervisor?”

“Do you like him?” I asked as we turned the second corner.

“How about Mr. Rigby?”

“I like him, too. He’s a great boss.”

“How about Mallory Fleet?” I asked.

The footman slowed down a bit. “Ma’am?”

“She’s young like you, Jonathan. I wonder if you’re friends.”

“Not really,” he said, and as we resumed our rapid pace, he told me he didn’t see much of Mallory. “She’s always flying off or driving someplace.”

“How about Wayne Stasson?” I asked once we reached the foyer, and the footman stopped completely.

“I didn’t kill him, ma’am.”

“Jonathan! I know that. I’m just curious, is all.” I put it bluntly. “I’m nosy.”

He shrugged. “Everyone around here is.” He spoke quite good-naturedly, but also informed me he hadn’t known Wayne well. “He was like Mallory,” he said. “Not inside the big house much.”

I studied the footman, hoping to hear more. My, but he was tall. The footman on my PBS show is also very tall. Perhaps there’s some sort of rule—

I cleared my throat. “I don’t suppose you see much of Caesar, either,” I said. “Since he also works outside?”

“I see him a little more, Ma’am. He likes to garden around the windows.”

“Caesar is nosy?” I ventured as Jonathan and I began the trek across the marble floor.

“I think so, ma’am.”

“And Abigail?” I asked. “Is she nosy to—”

I stopped again, and pointed to the drawing room—specifically at something I had failed to question when I barged in with news of Karen’s phone call. “What happened to the police tape?” I asked.

“They took it down.”

The footman stared at the French doors. “I guess Ms. Witherspoon needed to dust.” He looked down at me. “She really likes to dust,” he added, and I do believe the man winked.