Sunday
Kitchen—Harrington House Bed-and-Breakfast
“Good morning, Molly Sunshine,” Elise said. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
Molly poured a cup of coffee. “I started reading Aubrey’s book and dozed off. Then I heard the Chiassons and the other two couples come in around midnight. I was so paranoid about the door that I had to get up and ensure it was latched. Then I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about Aubrey lying on the terrace all night in the rain.”
“A little OCD there, my friend?” Elise chuckled. “Maybe you should have Kevin look at the door.”
Molly leaned against the counter and watched Elise over her cup as she took a sip. “You just want Kevin to come over so you can see him. Besides, he says it is the weather. It’s not such a problem when it’s drier.”
“As the guests come down, ask them if they want French toast or pancakes,” Elise instructed. “And I have gluten-free bread if anyone wants it. The berries are ready to go for the topping. The syrup is in the warmer. I’m serving scrambled eggs unless they request something else.”
Molly marveled at how fast Elise could transition from friendly conversation to barking orders. She hated thinking of the day Elise might open her own restaurant instead of running the B and B kitchen and some catering jobs on the side. She pushed those thoughts away—no time to think about that now.
Later, Molly was in the dining room refilling Nick Chiasson’s coffee when the doorbell rang. Setting the coffee carafe on the antique oak breakfront, she excused herself and exited the dining room with six sets of curious eyes on her back.
“Tony. Good morning.”
“Newspaper delivery.” Tony handed her the newspaper and stepped inside, carrying an nine-by-twelve brown envelope.
“Thank you. I didn’t know you’d taken on a second job.”
A quick smile crossed his face, but then his expression turned serious. “I have some photos I’d like you and Elise to look at.”
“Of course. I’m in the middle of finishing up the breakfast service, but please come into the kitchen,” she said. “Have you eaten? Pancakes and French toast are on the menu. Elise always makes more than enough.”
“Breakfast would be great.” He nodded toward the dining room. “They sound lively this morning.”
Molly set the newspaper on the foyer table. “Recapping the wedding. I guess Aubrey was a huge topic of conversation at the reception.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “It’s all around town. You know how it is in small towns.”
After Molly finished the breakfast service, she joined Tony and Elise in the kitchen, where Tony had polished off a plate of scrambled eggs and pancakes.
He pushed his plate aside and raised his coffee cup. “I should show up at breakfast time more often.”
“You’re welcome in my kitchen anytime,” Elise said, winking at Molly.
Ignoring Elise, Molly said, “I hope you’re finished with the Terrace Room so we can clean it.”
“Unfortunately, not yet. Maybe later today or tomorrow. I’ll give you the name of a cleaning service specializing in crime scene cleanup. But first, the photos.”
Molly and Elise looked over his shoulders as he spread images of Aubrey across the counter.
“Many of these are enlargements from other photos.” He picked one up. “This picture, for example, was originally of Betty and Tracy, but Aubrey and this woman look quite chummy in the background.”
Molly took the photo and then handed it to Elise. “That’s Lauren Driscoll, Sarah’s mother. You met Sarah yesterday.”
Elise laid the picture on the table. “She has the book in her hand. She’s probably asking him for his autograph.”
“Perhaps. I remember you mentioning her when we spoke yesterday. When did Mrs. Driscoll leave the party?”
Molly wrinkled her brow as she thought. “She left with Vanessa around nine o’clock, give or take fifteen minutes. They’ve been friends since junior high.”
Tony pointed to another image of Aubrey, his arms around two middle-aged women. “Who are these women?”
“I think they are the book-club ladies.” She looked at Elise for confirmation.
“Don’t look at me,” Elise said. “I didn’t catch their names.”
“Betty would know more about them,” Molly added.
Tony asked a few more questions and returned the photographs to the envelope. “I also have some questions about Diana Chiasson.”
Molly’s eyebrows rose. “Diana? What questions?”
“Did she grow up in River Crest?”
“Yes,” Molly said. “Her family owns the hardware store on Main Street.”
“She wasn’t in any River Crest yearbooks, even going back fifteen years,” Tony said.
“That’s because she graduated from one of the Catholic girls’ schools in Cincinnati,” Molly said. “I don’t remember which one.”
“At the party, did Aubrey pay her any special attention, or did anything seem out of line with her?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Elise said. “But I left about the time they arrived.”
“They were at the rehearsal dinner and only arrived in time for the nightcap around nine thirty. Correct?” Tony asked.
“Yes, but I saw nothing inappropriate. We drank champagne,” Molly said. “But I remember Aubrey saying, ‘So glad you made it back in time for the toast,’ or something like that.”
“I need to speak to Mrs. Chiasson,” Tony said.
Tony followed Molly through the foyer into the dining room, where Nick and Diana sat across from her two brothers and their wives.
Tony stood at the head of the table. “Mrs. Chiasson, may I speak with you, please?”
Diana glanced around the table, her eyes lingering on her husband, before looking up at Tony. “But why? I told you everything yesterday.”
“I have a few more questions,” Tony said. “Would you please come into the library so we may speak privately?”
Nick Chiasson looked from his wife to the detective. “Is there something wrong, Detective Shannon?”
“You can ask me here,” Diana said. “I have nothing to hide from my husband and brothers.”
Tony stared at the two couples. “If you’ve finished eating, do you mind giving us the room?”
Diana’s older brother, Clay, glanced across the table at his sister. “Of course.” He used the cloth napkin to wipe his mouth, not taking his eyes off his sister. He stood up, prompting his wife, brother, and sister-in-law to do the same. Before leaving, he squeezed Diana’s shoulder and said, “Holler if you need me.”
Molly placed a chair at the head of the table next to Diana and excused herself. Once in the kitchen, she motioned for Elise to be quiet and come into the butler’s pantry. Elise checked the stove and followed. They stood next to the cabinets and listened.
“Mr. and Mrs. Chiasson, you remember we took your fingerprints for exclusionary purposes?”
“Yes, of course,” Nick said.
“Mrs. Chiasson’s prints showed up in Aubrey’s room,” Tony said. “When were you in his room, Mrs. Chiasson?”
Elise’s eyes widened, and she mouthed, “Wow.”
“You were in his bedroom? You didn’t tell me that!” Nick sounded perturbed.
Diana cleared her throat. “We’d come straight here from the airport on Friday. You’d lain down to take a nap. I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs. I talked to the lady from the bookstore while she prepared the library for the party.”
“And then what happened?” Tony asked.
“I bought a book. Then Aubrey and his agent showed up and checked in. Aubrey’s door was open when I went upstairs, as were the French doors to the terrace. I knocked and asked him for an autograph. That’s all, I swear.”
Molly heard a chair scoot backward. She turned and pushed Elise toward the kitchen mere seconds before Tony appeared.
Elise held up the coffeepot. “Would you like another cup?”
As Elise poured, Molly asked, “How did the meeting with Aubrey’s mother go?”
“Difficult. Notifications are always hard.”
“He was her only child,” Molly said. “How did she seem?”
“Upset, of course,” Tony said.
“No, I mean physically. Aubrey told me she didn’t come to the party because she hasn’t been well, but Kevin saw her in town the other day driving a new car.”
Tony shrugged. “Perhaps Aubrey didn’t want his mother around while he was working the room. You said he was in the habit of hooking up with fans.”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “Maybe.”
“I’d better be going,” Tony said. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Aren’t you going to tell him?” Elise asked.
Tony glanced from Elise to Molly. “Tell me what?”
“I don’t know. What?” Molly asked.
“About the book,” Elise said. “Aubrey liberally borrowed from Molly’s family history to write his latest book.”
“It’s true. I stayed up way too late last night reading it.”
“Borrowed? In what way?” Tony asked.
Elise retrieved Aubrey’s book from the counter behind her. “It’s set in a fictitious town, but anyone who lives here will recognize it, right down to the statue of Ulysses S. Grant in the square.”
“General Grant was born near here, so that would make sense,” Tony said.
Molly tapped the book cover with her forefinger. “It’s set in Prohibition, and moonshiners and bootleggers are in it. One owns a shipping company and has a daughter who mysteriously dies.”
“In a mansion on a hill owned by her father,” Elise added. “Sound familiar?”
“They say to write what you know,” Tony said. “He apparently knows the local folklore.”
“It’s more than folklore. Nana says that my great-grandfather was one of the main transporters of illegal booze up and down the Ohio River.”
“That’s nothing unusual for that time and this area,” he chuckled. “Does the character in the book also haunt the house?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far.”
Elise shook her head. “Me, either.”
“Do you think he might have slandered your family or uncovered some deep, dark secret that got him killed?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll keep reading,” Molly said. “I will ask Nana if she knows anyone who’s still around. She says she’s too young to remember anything except the stories she’s heard.”
Elise laughed. “Your grandmother is full of stories.”
“Keep me informed if you come across anything.” Tony focused on Molly. “Have you ever seen your family ghost?”
“No, but Kevin has,” Molly said. “When he was about eight, he stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Harrington while my mother took me to the doctor or some other appointment. Apparently, he was poking around in the attic. He fell and almost tumbled down the steep stairway. Then, he felt someone grab his belt and pull him up. There was also a misty figure leaning over him.”
“I’m going to ask Kevin to tell me that story,” Elise said.
“Interesting.” Tony turned to leave but stopped. “I saw George Roark’s car in the parking lot, but he wasn’t in the dining room for breakfast.”
Molly glanced at her watch. “He hasn’t come down yet, but his flight is at noon, so he should be down anytime.”
“He’s probably packing. What room is he in?” Tony asked. “I’ll stop up and talk to him.”
“He’s in the Rookwood Room,” Molly said. “It’s the second door on the left.”
While checking the dining room coffee service, Molly heard Tony calling her from upstairs. She entered the foyer and saw Tony hanging over the banister above the landing.
“Molly, he’s not answering the door. Please bring the key?”
Molly raced up the stairs. Tony met her on the landing, retrieved the key, and took the remaining steps two at a time.
Tony pushed the door open. George Roark lay crosswise on the bed, wearing a sleeveless undershirt and boxer shorts. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the nightstand. The room smelled of whiskey and sweat with a whiff of vomit.
Molly gasped. “Oh, my God. Is he dead?” Please don’t let him be dead!
Tony checked George’s carotid pulse. “No, but his pulse is thready. Call an ambulance.”
Molly pulled the phone from her pants pocket and punched in 9-1-1.
***
Elnora had watched the activity from just above the mantel. She had never seen anyone drink so much in one sitting. He’d spent the whole evening watching the moving picture box they called a TV while he drank whiskey, sometimes straight out of the bottle, and muttered about all sorts of things, most of it incomprehensible.
Was he trying to kill himself?
She had gotten annoyed with his disgusting behavior and had retreated to the third floor, her sanctuary. When she popped in the next morning, she noticed the liquor bottle was almost empty. Amazingly, he had survived the night.
She watched with interest when the medical people arrived. There was a male medic and a female medic. Fascinated by the equipment that beeped and squawked, she hovered over the bed as they worked. She cringed when the female medic stuck a large needle in George’s arm and attached a bag of liquid. The way the medics quickly and efficiently packed him up and hustled him out of the house excited her. Plus, she’d always admired a handsome man in a uniform. She followed the gurney down the stairs and watched them load George into their motor vehicle. She wondered if George would ever come back. She hoped not. She didn’t trust him. If her relatives were smart, they’d kick him out and make sure he never returned.