Molly, Elise, and Tony stood on the front porch and watched the ambulance ease down the gravel driveway, hit the lights and siren, and speed toward town and the River Crest Community Hospital.
“When did you last see Mr. Roark?” Tony asked.
“He was standing on the stairs when the morgue guys carried down the body bag,” Elise said. Her spiky pink hair didn’t budge in the chilly April breeze.
“George went out later in the afternoon, but I didn’t see him return,” Molly said. “That’s probably when he went to the liquor store.”
“And proceeded to get mind-blowingly drunk,” Elise said.
“I heard him tell Tracy that he had a call with his boss, and he was nervous about it,” Molly said. “He was debating telling his boss that Aubrey was planning to drop him for a new agent. I’m sure he was upset and concerned about being fired.”
“But upset enough to drink himself to death?” Tony asked. “That’s a bit extreme.”
“Maybe he feels guilty because he killed Aubrey,” Elise suggested.
Molly looked up at Tony. “I thought the killer was probably a woman—champagne glasses, a late-night tryst on the terrace. But perhaps George went into Aubrey’s room after the woman left. Do you think he could have done it?”
“Of course, he could,” Tony said. “Right now, everyone is a person of interest.”
Elise raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he and Aubrey met for celebratory drinks, but then Aubrey broke the news that good ole George was on the outs and a new hotshot agent was on his way in.”
“I see where you’re going,” Molly said. “Of course, Aubrey wasn’t nice about it and probably laughed at him. Maybe George became enraged and swung the champagne bottle without thinking about it. Afterward, he felt so guilty he drowned himself in a bottle of Jack.”
“Ladies, you spin a good yarn.”
Elise crossed her arms and gave Tony the side-eye. “It’s possible.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything is possible,” Tony said. “Thank you for breakfast, but I’m going to the hospital. I need to talk to George as soon as he wakes up.”
“Do we have another crime scene?” Molly asked. “The room needs a good airing out. It stinks.”
Tony thought for a moment. “Technically, getting drunk is no crime, but his client was murdered just across the hall. Let’s hold off on cleaning for a few hours so I can get a fingerprint specialist out here to see who’s been in that room.”
“We’ll stay out of the room.” Molly wrinkled her nose. “Maybe the smell will dissipate some before we get in to clean it.”
***
Molly entered the dining room to clear the breakfast dishes and found Diana Chiasson sitting alone, swishing a tea bag around in a cup and reading the Sunday newspaper. She looked up when Molly came into the room.
“Did you see the article in the morning paper?” Diana pointed to Aubrey’s photo on the front page. “‘Local Author Found Dead at B and B; Foul Play Suspected.’”
Molly groaned. “Not exactly the headline any of us were hoping for. Does it name the B and B?”
Diana scanned the article. “Aubrey Rhodes was found dead the morning after the successful launch of his latest novel, Volatile, published Friday to mixed reviews. Upon their inheritance of the ancestral home, and after extensive renovations, siblings Kevin and Molly Harrington opened the Harrington House Bed-and-Breakfast last October. No comment from the siblings on the untimely death of River Crest’s most famous citizen.” Diana shrugged. “It could be worse.”
“After what’s happened with George, I’m sure the press will show up here again today.”
“That was surreal,” Diana said. “I talked to Mr. Roark yesterday afternoon before we left for the wedding. He was getting a bottle of water from the little refrigerator upstairs.”
“Did he say anything?”
Using a spoon, Diana scooped up the tea bag, wrapped the string around it, and watched the last bit drip into the cup. “He complimented me on my dress and wished me a pleasant evening.” She blew on the hot liquid and gingerly took a sip. “He looked sad—like he’d lost his last friend.”
Molly picked up a dirty dish and added it to the stack. “He did, sort of. Agents work on commission. I’m sure he’s lost a good portion of his livelihood.”
“I guess you’re right. Poor fellow.” Diana set the cup on the table. “I hope the police find out who killed Aubrey. Although it sure gave me a start when that detective said they found my fingerprints in Aubrey’s room. My husband is still angry with me. I just wanted an autograph.”
“You did nothing wrong by asking Aubrey to sign your book. It’s not like you barged through a closed door. Did you?”
Diana’s eyes widened. She shook her head, her blond ponytail swaying side-to-side, brushing her shoulders. “N-no, of course not. I would never barge into someone’s room. The door was wide open. I explained we’d be out that evening and couldn’t attend his party, but would he mind signing my book? That’s all.”
“I hope Nick gets over being angry with you,” Molly said.
“He will eventually, but he’s heard the rumors about Aubrey Rhodes being a womanizer and thinks I’m hiding something.”
“He’s jealous?”
“He has a reason, but that was long before we were married. He needs to let that go.”
Thankful Danny had never been the jealous type, Molly made what she hoped was a sympathetic, “Hmm,” and returned to noisily stacking dishes.
“It’s not what you think. We were on a break.” Diana sighed. “I’d better get back upstairs. There’s a big family luncheon at my parents’ house today. I should put a shot of something besides sugar in this tea.”
“I have some brandy in the cupboard,” Molly offered.
Diana held up her cup. “Please and thank you.”
***
The forensic specialist finished her work shortly after noon and gave Molly permission to clean George’s room. The first thing Molly did was open the windows. The room needed a good airing out. Then she stripped the beds and threw the dirty sheets on the floor. Molly struggled with the mattress pad and bed skirt and was happy to see Sarah standing in the doorway, laundry bag in hand.
Sarah grabbed the opposite end of the mattress while Molly removed the stubborn bed skirt. “I ran into Elise as I came in,” Sarah said. “She told me about Mr. Roark. That’s terrible. I hope he’s all right.”
Molly straightened and pushed her dark curls behind her ears. “He will be, but I’d hate to have his hangover when he wakes up.” She stuffed the mattress pad into a laundry bag while Sarah filled another with dirty sheets.
Sarah held up her bag. “I’ll send these sheets down.”
While she went to call the dumbwaiter, Molly picked up the clothes strewn about the room and tossed them onto the bed. George’s wallet and car keys were on the dresser, and he had a clean shirt and jeans in the closet. She thought of a good reason to see him—take him a change of clothes, and he’d need his wallet to arrange the hospital bill.
I’m sure he knows more than he’s letting on. He might let something slip in his weakened state.
“Wasn’t Mr. Roark supposed to check out today?”
Startled out of her reverie, Molly said, “Yes. Yes, he was.”
“What about all his stuff?”
“I’ll take his wallet and a change of clothes to the hospital this afternoon,” Molly said. “We can wash his clothes so they’ll be clean when he’s discharged from the hospital.”
“I’ll get the clean sheets if you want me to make the bed.”
“We don’t have any reservations until Friday. Let’s air the room out overnight. We can clean and make it up tomorrow.”
“Aubrey Rhodes’s death has affected so many,” Sarah said as she gathered the dirty clothes Molly had thrown onto the bed. “My mom has been really quiet since she found out. She tears up every time I mention it and heads for her room.”
“I didn’t realize your mother was that close to Aubrey.”
“She had a serious crush on him in high school and for a while after he graduated. Then she met my dad.”
“Aunt Vanessa was in Aubrey’s class, but wasn’t your mother a year or two behind them?”
“One year behind,” Sarah said. “She was disappointed when Aubrey didn’t attend the last couple of high-school reunions.”
Sarah’s lips crept into a half smile, but Molly could see the concern in her eyes. Sarah was only nineteen, much too young to have the beginnings of worry lines on her lovely face.
Molly patted Sarah’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Sarah stopped. “Did you say there’s no one coming in until Friday? I thought the schedule said we had guests starting on Thursday.”
“Canceled—and another for next weekend.”
“Oh no. I hope there aren’t any more cancellations.”
Molly checked the drawers for any stashed belongings. “I almost hate to answer the phone. I’m afraid it will be either a reporter or another reservation cancellation.” Molly took the bundle of dirty clothes from Sarah. “I’ll throw these clothes in the washer once the towels are done.”
Sarah pulled on rubber gloves. “I’m going to disinfect the bathroom.”
Stopping inside the door, she raised one sneaker-clad foot and then the other. “Ewww. The floor is sticky. Did he drink the booze or take a bath in it?”