Chapter Twenty-four

 

James knocked the snow off his shoes, then entered the Red Bird. No one was around. James walked back to the kitchen. In the rounded sunroom area where the oak table stood, the blinds had been raised over all six double windows, showing an ever-whitening world outside. He found Mrs. Anderson standing by the stove. She looked at James and said, “It’s true. A watched pot never boils.”

James smiled. “Smells good. What are you cooking?”

“Lentil and vegetable stew with Moroccan spices, although I don’t know who in this bunch will eat it.” She stirred the spicy mixture. “Seems they only want their own special food.”

“Are you here by yourself? Where’s Mr. Anderson and the actors?”

“My husband drove into Quincy’s Gap for supplies in case this is that big snow Jim Topling keeps promising us. You must have passed him on the road. The cast members are all in their rooms. Yesterday they didn’t come downstairs until lunchtime. Seems like that’s their new schedule. Of course, that Joy Carmichael runs their lives,” she said with a grimace.

“Is Joy here now?”

“Oh, yes. Amber Ross slept late. Joy took her a vile-looking smoothie a few minutes ago.”

“Mrs. Anderson, I need to speak with Brandon. What room is he in?”

“Number four, that’s on the second floor.”

“Thanks.” James started to head up the stairs, then remembered Lindy’s suggestion. “Mrs. Anderson, I know the sheriff’s team questioned you after Ray Edwards’s body was found, but I wondered if you remembered anything else about that night.”

Mrs. Anderson tapped the spoon on the side of the pot, then set it on the spoon rest. “No, I haven’t. It may sound selfish, but Brian and I have been worrying about how these murders are going to affect our business. We barely get by as it is.”

James stuffed his gloves into his pockets. “I understand. I’ve spent plenty of sleepless nights in my time worrying about money.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to him. “That’s funny. When you said ‘sleepless,’ I remembered something. You see, I couldn’t sleep the other night and wanted a midnight snack. Brandon couldn’t sleep either. He had come downstairs for a glass of milk. Poor thing was rummaging around in the pantry looking for a glass when I walked into the kitchen. I poured us each a glass of milk and got out some cookies left over from the reception. Brandon asked me about the profitability of running a bed-and-breakfast. We sat at the kitchen table chatting until he felt like he could go back to sleep.”

The pantry. Where the secret passage from the third floor ended. James felt his muscles tense. “Was this the night of the reception?”

“Yes. The night Ray Edwards was murdered. Brandon must have heard something that disturbed his sleep.”

If there had been any doubt in James’s mind about the identity of the killer, it was gone. “You’ve been very helpful. I’ll go talk to him now.”

She turned back to the stove. James unbuttoned his coat and walked fast toward the stairs. He didn’t want to encounter the nosy Joy or anyone else. He took the steps two at a time. On the landing, he searched for number four. Finding it, he knocked.

Brandon opened the door. He had on jeans and another expensive-looking sweater, this one in a dark gray. He hadn’t shaved and his eyes looked different. It took a second, but then James realized Brandon’s pupils were huge. He’d been doing coke. “What can I help you with, James, isn’t it?”

“I wanted to talk for a few minutes, if you have the time.”

Brandon waved him inside. As soon as the door was shut behind him, James felt a twinge of fear, but he brushed it away. He took in his surroundings. His gaze went to the fireplace mantel first, where a pair of the inn’s signature glass cardinals stood. A wood fire crackled and burned brightly. The king-size bed had been covered with a thick red and gold comforter and matching skirt. James wondered if Brandon had gotten his Egyptian cotton sheets.

A wool Oriental rug in shades of red, cream, and blue covered the hardwood floor. Two stuffed chairs with blue velvet upholstery were positioned on either side of a glossy wood table, where Joy’s basket of fruit had been placed. A few flecks of white powder were visible on the table next to a credit card and a short straw. From everything James had read on the subject, he knew that using coke normally made a person confident. Hopefully, it would make Brandon careless and loosen his tongue.

“Care to sit down?” Brandon asked, dropping into one of the chairs.

James took the other. “Thanks. I’m sorry about Kitty’s death. I know the two of you were close.”

Brandon drew in a breath. He didn’t meet James’s gaze. Instead, he looked toward the fire. “Guess I wasn’t going to be able to keep our history a secret now that everything I do is on the Internet.”

“Why did you try?”

“Edwards. She didn’t want Edwards to know about us. That’s what she told me. Tried to convince me she really loved that buffoon. I knew better.”

“Oh?” James kept his tone conversational.

“All part of her plan to make me jealous enough that I’d finally ask her to marry me. It didn’t work. I’m not the marrying kind. Hard to be faithful to one woman. At least it is for me. You want a drink?”

James saw the glass decanter filled with a light brown liquid and the matching glasses next to it. “Too early for me.”

“Not for me,” Brandon said and poured a glass. He moved the decanter within reach.

James rose to his feet and went to the window, pretending to look at the snow. With what he had to say next, he felt better standing. “Did you argue about getting married?”

Brandon scoffed. “Are you kidding? All the time.”

“Things got heated, I bet.”

Brandon took a drink and closed his eyes. “We always made up. Couldn’t stay away from each other. Twenty-eight years. Imagine that.”

“Must have been the mother of all arguments when you pushed her into the fireplace hearth. You didn’t mean to kill her. It was just another fight.” James held his breath.

Brandon put his glass down and shot to his feet. “I never meant to hurt Kitty. She fell. It was an accident.”

James nodded, his heart beating fast. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt her from the time you offered to take the third-floor suite and give her this room.”

“I was good to her in all the ways I could be. I loved her, had loved her since we met right here in this house. We were kids, but I fell for her. I never stopped loving her. And now she’s gone.” The actor paused, then with a smirk he said, “All because two people fell in love.”

James recognized the Hearth and Home saying. “I know that Kitty loved you. She let you live in her house and helped you plan to get out of debt when you found out about the Hearth and Home reboot,” James guessed.

“You know about that too?” Brandon asked, his intense gaze causing James to feel another twinge of fear.

James held up a hand. “Hey, we all have things we can’t give up. With me, it’s overeating. I love food. With you, it’s gambling.”

“Those bastards at the Belvedere were forcing me into bankruptcy. You know what the tabloids would have made of that? The producers don’t care what I do in my private life, but the fans would have. Their dear, sweet Joshie, a hardened gambler,” Brandon sneered. “They wouldn’t have watched the new Hearth and Home. The show would tank. I told Kitty I’d kill myself before I went through that kind of humiliation.”

James felt his fear dissipate. In its place, anger rose at Brandon’s emotional blackmail tactic. “And the thought of you committing suicide must have frightened Kitty badly. First you hoped you could convince Edwards to let you in on the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation, make the money that way, but he said no. The two of you had tried to work together before—”

Brandon pointed at him. “The failure of the Nashville deal wasn’t my fault. So I was doing a little coke, who doesn’t?”

“Then you had to try something else. Was it Kitty’s idea to kill him?”

Brandon didn’t answer. A wary look came into his eyes.

James said, “Who made up the forged will? You? Kitty buys herself an engagement ring, she’s got the will, and then when Edwards is dead, she’ll have the million-dollar insurance payoff. She’ll be able to wipe out your debts. A clean slate before news gets around about the new show. Then, if the development went through, she’d make a fortune selling houses. With your income from the new show, neither of you would have to worry about money. That is, as long as you stopped gambling.”

“I’d have to marry her and go to counseling. Those were her terms,” Brandon said in a cold voice. “I did try to reason with Edwards first. The night of that reception. I asked him again if he’d front me the money to get in on the development deal. But he was drunk and with that woman, Murphy Alistair. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

“And then the only way was to carry out the plans you and Kitty had made. You waited until Edwards and Murphy went to bed, passed out drunk. Then you used the secret passage you’d learned about all those years ago to get into their suite. You picked up the cardinal and bashed him in the head, leaving Murphy to take the blame. Because,” James stated, not bothering to hide his ire, “like all womanizers, you really don’t like women at all. That’s why it was okay by you if Murphy took the fall and okay by you to be violent when you argued with Kitty. Only this time, you killed her.”

Brandon smashed the glass decanter on the side of the table. Liquid spread across the wood. He held the broken glass in front of James’s face. “You know what, librarian, you know too much. What difference will a third dead body make?”

James looked at the sharp slice of glass and didn’t hesitate. He lurched forward toward the door to the bedroom.

Before he could grasp the doorknob, the door opened inward, revealing Joy Carmichael framed in the doorway. She held a pistol pointed right at James’s heart.

In that second, James thought he would die without seeing his baby daughter. Without ever holding Jane in his arms again. Without reading the rest of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to Eliot. Without seeing his friends again.

He backed into the room. Joy stared into his eyes, and what James saw there, and in the set of her mouth, was grim determination.

Holding the pistol steady and never taking her gaze from James, she said, “Brandon, dear, put what you need into your duffle bag. We’re leaving.”

Brandon threw open the closet door and began rapidly stuffing clothes into his case.

James said, “He’s killed two people, Joy. Ray Edwards and Kitty Walters.”

“I know,” she said in a voice that lacked concern. “I know everything about my dears.”

“Where are we going, Joy?” Brandon asked, pulling on a coat.

“To the airport in Charlottesville, then back to Los Angeles. We’ll say you couldn’t handle your grief at losing Kitty and needed to go to rehab. The fans will accept that.”

“Good thinking,” Brandon said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Joy.”

Joy smiled. “You’ll always have me. Go ahead and get in the rental car. I’ll be right behind you.”

Brandon glared at James. “This is your fault. Joy wouldn’t have to kill you if you had kept your nose out of my business.” He went out the door. James could hear him running down the stairs.

Joy closed the door behind him. “Now, Mr. Henry, you must listen to me.”

James looked around wildly for a weapon. Fireplace poker. Too far away. The broken glass decanter. He’d never be able to cut her with it. Maybe if he ran past her, he’d still get shot, but her aim would be off, and the shot wouldn’t be fatal. James felt as if his heart would explode any second, saving Joy the trouble of killing him.

“Listen to me, Mr. Henry!” Joy repeated. “I’m not going to kill you. You won’t be able to prove that Joshie, I mean Brandon, murdered anyone. I’m leaving with Brandon. The wholesome legacy of Hearth and Home must be maintained. For everyone: the cast and all the fans across the world. That’s what is most important. Don’t forget.”

Before James could form another thought, Joy’s arm swung toward him in an arc, the gun coming down, closer, closer, then darkness.