In her short, finely pleated, lilac cotton sundress, with her braided golden hair pulled back and twisted into an elegant bun, Kelly looked like some Grecian statue come to life. She lifted a well-toned, tanned arm and used one finger to delicately dash a bead of sweat from her upper lip.
“Of course. Isn’t that the point of this evening?”
“Well, the original plan has devolved into something a little different,” Scott said, rising to his feet to offer Kelly his chair.
“Really? And please, Mr. Kepler, sit down. There’s an extra couple of chairs off to the side there, next to the lady I met the other evening.” Kelly arched her golden brows. “Ms. Montgomery, I think it is?”
“Yes, Charlotte’s next-door neighbor,” Ellen said.
“That’s right, we met at the Thursday night cocktail party. We didn’t get a chance to really talk then, though,” Kelly said. “What are we discussing—more thoughts on Tey’s books?”
“No, our very own murder mystery,” Ophelia said. “The death of the unfortunate Mr. Delamont.”
“Really? That sounds a little macabre.” Kelly shot me a questioning look as she sat down.
Bernadette jumped in before I could say anything. “Actually, we were comparing alibis just before you arrived. But we hadn’t quite gotten around to our personal theories on who the murderer might be. Perhaps you’d like to start there, Ms. Rowley?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know.” Kelly crossed her bare legs, hiking her dress up higher on her thighs. “I’m not sure my thoughts would shed much light on the situation.”
Julie stood, shaking out one foot as if it had gone to sleep. “I’m sure your theories are as reasonable as any others I’ve heard.” She crossed over to one of the lower library shelves and picked up a stack of paperbacks. “I did find you some books, by the way. If you still want them.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” As Kelly reached into her purse, something glinted. “Darn, it seems I forgot my checkbook, but I’m happy to send you a check before we leave Beaufort. I’m good for it, I promise,” she added, with a bright smile.
Ellen stirred in her chair. “So, Mrs. Rowley, I’m curious, do you actually have any theories on who killed Lincoln Delamont?”
“Not really. At first, I thought it was probably some stranger. I mean, someone not part of our group. Someone who had a beef with Mr. Delamont and tracked him here.” She shrugged. “Maybe they confronted and killed him during an argument, then fled the scene.”
“But you don’t think that now?” Scott, who hadn’t reclaimed his seat, paced across one end of the library.
“No, because … Well, just some things I picked up when the police were questioning me made me think it might be someone else.” Kelly bit her lower lip and looked at the other guests, her gaze darting from face to face. “Someone in this room.”
“But everyone in this room has an alibi,” Bernadette said, her voice hardening. “What’s yours?”
“Do they? Well, I’m at a disadvantage, since I missed hearing all that, but of course I had nothing to do with Mr. Delamont’s death. I barely knew the man, after all, whereas some of you seem to have much closer connections to him. And I don’t just mean his wife and daughter.” Kelly cast a swift glance at Jennifer.
“They both have been cleared by the police,” Pete said. “Airtight alibis, apparently.”
“But I believe Mr. Kepler knew Delamont before this week, as did Ms. Rivera and Mr. Carr. Isn’t that right?” Kelly’s golden lashes fluttered over her clear blue eyes.
“It is,” I said, “but I’m not sure how you would know that, Kelly.”
She lifted her hands in a dismissive gesture. “I did a little investigating of my own after this whole mess started. Just to make sure I wasn’t associating with dangerous criminals.”
“And you found out what?” Bernadette asked, her tone barbed as a fishhook.
“That Lincoln Delamont cheated Mr. Kepler’s father out of a significant amount of money, for one thing.” Kelly smiled sweetly. “Todd and I have some connections in the book world, and in case you were all unaware, Mr. Kepler’s dad was Nathan Caine.”
“Really?” Julie turned to stare at Scott. “That was your dad?”
Scott bobbed his head but kept his gaze focused on Kelly. “You asked around and found out about Delamont swindling my father? Okay, I admit it does give me motive, but what did you discover about the others you claim to suspect?” He pointed toward Julie and Damian. “I doubt they have famous parents who are known by your wealthy friends.”
Jennifer chimed in before Kelly could reply. “Well, Julie Rivera was having an affair with my husband.”
“Not an affair,” Julie said. “Not really.”
“You mean, not yet.” Jennifer tossed her thick dark curls. “Found out the truth in time instead.”
Kelly’s gaze ranged from Julie to Jennifer and back again. “Yes, that one was obvious. Lincoln Delamont was leading Ms. Rivera on, and when she found out he was still quite married, perhaps she snapped and stabbed him.”
“As if I would risk prison time on some guy,” Julie said, sharing a glance with Scott. I was glad to see he looked unperturbed, which meant Julie must’ve already told him the truth about her relationship with Lincoln.
Hoping to get the discussion back on track, I stared down at my notes. Lincoln Delamont was apparently something of a scammer, one bulleted point said. Ask about deception in relation to Tey’s books, which often included that theme. “Perhaps we should get back to talking about Tey,” I said. “I wrote out a few discussion starters—”
“Such as how most of her books deal with murders?” Bernadette asked, arching her eyebrows. “I thought we were dealing with that topic already.”
“Yes, but she also wrote a lot about deception. Many of her characters were engaged in scams of some kind,” I said, allowing my gaze to sweep around the room. “There was the con man brother and the astrologist in A Shilling for Candles, for example. Betty in The Franchise Affair. And of course, deception lies at the heart of Brat Farrar.”
“You know my opinion on that,” Bernadette said, with a sniff. “Not a likely scenario, not by a long shot. Family would always know their own.”
“I don’t know. It might be different for family members, but I think everyone can be fooled, if the con artist is good enough.” Scott spoke slowly, as if trying to untangle a knotted skein of thoughts. “My father, who was a very intelligent man, was conned.” He met Julie’s sympathetic gaze. “Charlotte knows this story, and I just told Julie the other night, so I guess there’s no reason to keep it under wraps. As Ms. Rowley just revealed, my dad was scammed out of a considerable amount of money by Lincoln Delamont.”
I glanced at Jennifer, whose expression was as frozen as a glacier.
“I don’t believe that,” she said coldly. “He may have been unfaithful, but Lincoln didn’t need to cheat anyone for money. He had plenty of his own.” She shrugged. “That was the one thing I could count on, at least. The money. Most of it was invested, and he used the interest to fund his business, not the principal, so it wasn’t like he was going broke anytime soon.”
“Really? And where did all this money come from?” Scott asked, ignoring the hand Julie had laid on his arm. “Maybe from other, earlier scams?”
“No.” Jennifer met Scott’s stare with a glare of her own. “If you must know, Lincoln’s parents died in an automobile accident when he was around twenty-one. He inherited the money from them.”
I bolted upright in my chair. An automobile accident, an inheritance … As I sneaked a surreptitious glance at the woman sitting next to me, an image of Lincoln Delamont flashed through my mind.
He’d been slender, blond, and blue-eyed, just like Kelly Rowley. In fact, they looked enough alike that Lincoln could’ve easily passed as her brother.
I swallowed a swear word and clasped my hands tightly on top of the notes in my lap as my mind processed a new, unexpected theory.
Kelly Rowley had lost her parents in an auto accident, just like Lincoln Delamont. Kelly when she was around eleven, Lincoln at age twenty-one. A ten-year age gap. Which was exactly the age difference between Kelly and the older brother she’d claimed had disappeared from her life. But he must have returned and, according to the magazine profile, inherited her parents’ entire estate.
Leaving her with nothing? I gathered up my notes and carefully placed them on the floor beside my chair.
Bernadette stood, placed her hands on her hips, and surveyed the people in the room. “Why are we wasting time talking about Tey’s books? I don’t know about the rest of you, but personally, I still want to hear Ms. Rowley’s alibi.”
“I can’t see that I need one. I never met Mr. Delamont until last Friday night,” Kelly said.
I wondered if Kelly’s tinkling laugh sounded as forced to everyone else as it did to me. “Because we think it was a woman, you see,” I said. “Tara heard a woman talking with her dad before he was killed. A woman who must’ve hidden in the carriage house when Jennifer Delamont appeared on the scene.”
Julie leaned in closer to Scott. “And all of the rest of us females have solid alibis, it seems.”
“Is that why you all are staring at me with those suspicious expressions? Because you think I had something to do with Delamont’s death?” Kelly covered her mouth with one well-manicured hand and giggled. “Honestly, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, I scarcely shared three words with the man before he was found stabbed to death.”
Julie pulled away from Scott and crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. “That’s curious, because I’m sure I saw you chatting with him for quite some time at the Friday night cocktail party.”
“And you would’ve noticed, I suppose,” Jennifer said, her tone etched with acid. But she nodded when Julie glanced at her. “Yes, I saw that too. Figured he was hitting on another pretty woman. He backed off pretty quick when Mr. Rowley came over, though. I guess he realized he couldn’t compete with a man like that.”
“I think you’re mistaken. I don’t remember spending much time talking to him at all,” Kelly said.
A sidelong glance displayed a crack in Kelly’s perfect composure. Sweat now dampened her brow and temples as well as her upper lip, and there was a twitch afflicting her right eye.
Here was my opening, if I was brave enough to take it. “Maybe you were talking about your shared tragedy?” I asked, keeping my tone as light as possible.
Ellen shot me a sharp look as a hysterical bubble of laughter escaped Kelly’s lips. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Kelly asked, when she was able to speak.
“Didn’t you both lose your parents in car accidents when you were young? Well, you were only eleven, if what I read in a magazine article is true. While Lincoln was around twenty-one when his parents died.”
Ellen cast me a swift glance. Her expression told me she’d just come to the same conclusion I had.
“Yes, we both lost our parents. What of it? It’s not like that made us instant soul mates or anything.” Kelly’s fingers tightened on the clasp of her purse.
Scott joined Julie at the desk, where Damian had poured out some wine. The three of them each grabbed a glass while I looked on, wishing I could join them.
Ellen stood and turned to face Kelly. “It’s just an odd coincidence, don’t you think? He was forty-six. You’re thirty-six. He lost his parents to a car crash at age twenty-one, you at eleven. That’s matching ten-year age gaps. I mean, they could’ve been the same parents, given the facts.”
“That’s absurd!” Still clutching her purse, Kelly leapt to her feet to face off with Ellen. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but whatever it is doesn’t make any sense. Besides, like I told Ms. Reed and Ms. Rivera at the bookstore earlier today, my brother went missing when I was only five.”
“Then how did he inherit the bulk of your parents’ estate?” I asked, rising to stand beside Ellen. “That was another thing I read in the article profiling you and Todd. How you had to start your track career without a lot of help, financially and otherwise, because your older brother inherited your late parents’ money and didn’t bother to support you.”
Kelly’s face blanched white as paper. “You’re mistaken,” she said in a strangled voice.
“No, it was in that same article. So either the reporter made something up, or—”
“You did,” Ellen said, finishing my sentence.
Kelly slung the gold chain handle of her purse over one bare shoulder. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this nonsense.” She strode out of the room, tossing, “And you can keep your books, Ms. Rivera,” over her shoulder.
“I don’t understand,” Ophelia said. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure myself, but I think there’s more to this little evening of fun and games than meets the eye,” said her sister.
“Everyone, please stay here. Enjoy some more wine and snacks. I’ll just go and see if Ms. Rowley is okay,” I said, then dashed toward the hall.
“I’ll come with you,” Ellen said.
We didn’t see Kelly but heard the back door slam.
“Time to call in the cavalry?” I asked.
Ellen, striding down the hall, waved me forward. “Yes, but let’s also make sure we know where she’s headed so we can clue them in,” she said, before pronouncing “sand dollar” in a loud, clear voice.
Outside, I surveyed the patio but saw nothing. As I considered heading for the garden, Ellen grabbed my arm and motioned toward the holly hedge.
“Spied some movement there,” she said, dropping my arm and making a beeline for the carriage house.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the police?” I cast a final glance at the driveway before jogging after her. Ellen might have been trained as a spy years ago, but she was seventy-five now. Probably no match for a fit young woman.
A loud crash forced me into a run.
I rounded the hedge, reassuring myself that the police were on the way.
Besides, even if Kelly was the killer, and had somehow obtained another knife, she’d have to get pretty close to someone to use it. Surely Ellen, with all her training, was too smart to allow that to happen.
The door to the carriage house was kicked in, which explained the sound I’d heard. Just inside I made out the silhouettes of two people.
Kelly stepped out into the light, and I realized what she held in her hand.
Not a knife this time. A gun. Pointed, not at me, but at the temple of a woman standing beside her.
“If you want your friend to survive this, you’d better get in here now,” she said.
I choked back my urge to scream. “The police are on their way.”
“So your neighbor told me. Which is why I am taking you both as hostages. My bargaining chips.” Kelly bared her white teeth in the semblance of a smile.
“This will not end well for you.” Ellen winced as Kelly popped her temple with the gun.
“Get inside, Charlotte,” Kelly commanded.
I could’ve made a break for it, but that would’ve left Ellen at the younger woman’s mercy. Sensing Kelly’s desperation, I wasn’t convinced she could be trusted not to shoot my friend.
You can do this, I told myself, as an image of Brent throwing his body against a door to save a roomful of children flashed through my mind. He’d probably been terrified too, with winds roaring like a freight train bearing down on him. But he’d done the right thing.
I could too. I curled my fingers, as if clasping an unseen hand, and followed Kelly and Ellen into the darkness.