After waving goodbye to a still-teary-eyed Lindsay Luttrell, Molly sank into the porch swing and stared at the slow-moving Ohio River in the valley below. She hugged herself against the cool breeze as the sun tried to peek through the leaden clouds. The turmoil with the police, the forensics people, and the coroner had put everyone on edge. She rubbed her temple and wondered how long it would take for everyone’s nerves to return to normal.
Molly couldn’t believe Aubrey Rhodes was dead. The Rhodes family had settled in the small Ohio River town at about the same time as the Harringtons—as far back as 1820, when River Crest was founded. Aubrey’s mother lived in a big house in the oldest, most prestigious two blocks of River Crest. Molly didn’t remember Aubrey’s father, as he’d passed away when she was a child, but she’d always thought Mrs. Rhodes was a mean, scary old woman. Aubrey might have been an arrogant ass, but he didn’t deserve to die alone at the hands of a bottle-wielding murderer. In her humble opinion, a champagne bottle to the head was the most likely cause of Aubrey’s sudden demise.
Lost in her musings, she didn’t realize she had company until Tony cleared his throat.
“Mind if I join you?”
She scooted over, and the swing swayed with his added weight. “I thought you’d gone.”
“After what Rick told me, I wanted another look at the crime scene.”
“What did he say?” Molly asked. “Or can you tell me?”
Tony gave her a sidelong glance. “Did Aubrey pay special attention to anyone at the party?”
She shrugged. “I was busy working. The party was ninety percent women. He flitted from one to the next, posing for pictures, making toasts, and chatting with everyone while signing his books.”
Tony chuckled. “Flitted?”
“He was here, then he was there, from one person to the next.” She lifted her eyebrows, raised her hands, and smiled at him. “You know. Flitted.”
He looked around, then turned to Molly. “Was he drunk or high?”
“By the end of the evening, he was tipsy but not falling down drunk. I don’t think he was on drugs, but he was enjoying the party.”
Tony nodded and rubbed his chin. “The tox screen will show what’s in his system.”
“I have a question,” Molly said. “I’ve been thinking about the champagne bottle and the book.”
“What about them?”
“The bottle and one glass sat on the table. It was like the champagne had just been served—like they’d shared a toast.”
“And?”
Molly faced him. “If I had just hit someone over the head, I would probably drop the bottle and run. But this person set the bottle upright, perhaps knocking a glass onto the floor. Then, the killer sneaked down the stairs and out the front door. It seems the killer was cool-headed, not panicked.”
Tony nodded. “Good point. And the book?”
“It appears as if he had been reading a passage, or perhaps he was signing it for whoever was with him. If that’s true, the killer was a fan or pretended to be to get into his room.”
“Molly, are you trying to take over my job?”
She laughed. “Hardly. Merely an observation.”
“You’ve probably correctly identified the scenario. He was possibly autographing the book. A black felt-tip marker was lodged between a flowerpot and the wall. It must have rolled there when he fell. He’d written ‘To’ on the title page. They probably hit him mid-signature.”
“Then the book wasn’t his copy.”
“No,” Tony said. “We found his copy in his briefcase with flagged passages.”
“I remember he asked his publicist to take it upstairs after his reading.” She wrinkled her brow. “Did the coroner’s investigator give you a probable cause of death?”
“That’s very official-sounding.”
“I picked up the jargon from my job at the hotel. I worked with the local police on a couple of investigations there.”
“No surprise. You’ve already figured it out. Blunt force trauma. Skull fracture in two locations.”
“Two?”
“He was most likely hit with the bottle.” Tony touched the back of his head and then the right side. “Maybe he spun around on impact, and when he went down, he hit the side just above the ear, probably on the brick wall.”
“Or whoever it was hit him again.”
“That’s possible, too.”
Molly stared at a barge crawling upriver and used her foot to move the porch swing in a gentle sway.
“Great view,” he said.
“My favorite. Though the view from the attic dormer is also beautiful, especially in the fall when the Kentucky hillside is covered in red and gold.”
“Fall is my favorite time of year too.”
The swing rocked back and forth as they watched the barge ease up the river.
“The forensic team is still working upstairs. Your guest room is a crime scene and probably won’t be released for a day or two, so you can’t clean it. Don’t go in there until you hear from me.”
“I only have two guests coming in tonight, so there’s no problem keeping that room closed off,” she said. “But we don’t need to leave the crime-scene tape, do we? That draws attention to what happened. I don’t want to make my guests more uneasy than they already are.”
“No, I guess not. Lock the door and put out the Do Not Disturb sign. We don’t want any curiosity-seekers poking around.”
She nodded. “I’ll do that as soon as they’re finished.”
Tony planted his feet to stand but then relaxed back onto the swing. “When did you move up here? I remember back in high school dropping Kevin off after basketball practice at a house in town.”
“We moved in here during Kevin’s senior year. You were off being an Ohio State football star.”
He smiled, subtle lines forming in the corners of his eyes. “Not much of a star.”
She returned his smile and then looked back at the river. “We lived in that house when Kevin and I were young. My parents moved us up here after my grandfather died.”
“I’m sure your parents and grandparents would be proud of what you and Kevin have done to bring this place back to its former glory.”
“I don’t know why my mother stayed here after my Grandmother Harrington and my father died. We often spoke about Mom moving into the senior living community near where Nana lives, but she wouldn’t have it. So, Kevin moved into the guest house a few years ago.”
“When did he move out to his own apartment?”
“When we renovated the house, we lived in the cottage. We offered Elise on-site living quarters as part of the package to come aboard as our chef, and he moved out,” Molly said. “Once my studio apartment was finished, I moved into the house.”
“I’m glad you didn’t sell out to those developers. The city doesn’t need another subdivision.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “That reminds me. Brad Metzner, the developer who wanted to buy this place, and his wife attended the party last night.”
“Why was he here?”
She shrugged. “Maybe his wife is an Aubrey fan, or probably to get a good look at our renovations—the same reason most people were here last night.”
“Are you saying people didn’t come to see Aubrey and buy his book?”
“Well, yes, they did that, too, but there were a lot of questions about the house. The old-timers remember how the place looked before. We’ve modernized, but we’ve tried to keep the feel and integrity of the original home.”
He tapped his forefinger on the wooden slats. “Add Metzner to that list you’re working on for me.”
“I will. I’ve added a few other names too. You’re going to be busy talking to them all.”
“I’ll put a couple of officers on that,” he said. “Now, I’m going to talk to Aubrey’s mother. I called earlier and spoke with Mrs. Rhodes’s housekeeper.”
“I don’t envy you that part of your job. She can be difficult.”
“Sounds like difficult runs in the family. Tell me about this feud with Betty from the bookstore. I hear it’s gone on for a long time.”
“From what I understand, it goes back to the senior prom and a nasty breakup. There’s been no love lost between those two.”
“I’ll stop by the bookstore right after seeing Mrs. Rhodes,” he said. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Aubrey was a best-selling novelist, a big celebrity in this area. Reporters will show up like rats in a sewer. When they call, and they will, just answer with, ‘No comment,’ and refer them to me.”
Molly’s brow furrowed. “I dread this negative publicity.”
Tony placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry to disrupt your business, but it may not be so bad. People will want to see where Aubrey died, and then there’s your ghost.”
“That’s what Elise said.”
Tony stood and grasped the chain, steadying the swing. “If you hear anything or think of anything else, please call me. You have my numbers. Call anytime.”
“I’ll finish that list and email it to you,” she said as they walked across the porch. “By the way, did Lindsay tell you she heard something around midnight and again at one o’clock?”
“Yes, she mentioned that on her way out. Tinkling of glasses, I guess.”
“That’s when Aubrey took the champagne and let in his guest,” Molly said. “Then she heard someone leave at one. Could that be the time of death?”
“We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to confirm that, but it’s probably close.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She removed Aubrey’s note from her pocket. “This was in the glassware cabinet.”
Tony took the note by the corner and held it up to read. “Has anyone else touched this?”
“No, just me and, of course, Aubrey. That’s from a message pad we keep by the landline in the kitchen.”
He pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket, inserted the note, and sealed the bag. “Thanks.”
Molly walked with him along the sidewalk as a late-model Lexus pulled into the driveway.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“Aunt Vanessa. She’s come to pick up Nana. Vanessa is in real estate, so she knows everybody and their business. She can give you the scoop on Aubrey, Betty, and whatever else is happening in town.”
He nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
Vanessa exited the car, her thick, dark-brown hair pulled into a chignon. She wore a Burberry trench coat over a navy business suit, and her heels clicked on the sidewalk pavers as she walked toward them.
“Mother called me in tears,” she said. “Is it true about Aubrey?”
“Yes. Nana’s lying down in my bedroom. Have you met Detective Tony Shannon? Tony, Vanessa Bennet, my aunt.”
Tony shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“This is such a shock,” Vanessa said. “It was a delightful party, and everyone, even Betty and Aubrey, seemed to get along.”
“Mrs. Bennet, are you available this afternoon? I need to ask you a few questions about last night.”
“Yes, of course. I’m taking Mother to lunch and then to her assisted living apartment. Can we meet around four? I’m at the realty office on Riverside Drive. It’s across from the library.”
“See you at four.” Tony nodded at Molly and said his goodbyes.
“I wonder who did this,” Vanessa said as they watched him drive away.
“No idea.” Molly turned to walk up the steps.
“Unfortunately,” Vanessa said, following her, “there could be a long list of suspects.”