A Clue in the Stew (A Soup Lover's Mystery) (10 page)

Chapter 24

N
ATE STOOD IN
the center of the room recently occupied by Hilary Stone. Something was bothering him. It was just at the edge of his consciousness but he couldn’t grasp it, he thought, the same way you walk into a room to retrieve something, but by the time you arrive, you’ve forgotten what it was you wanted. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was unsettling him. He turned in a circle and carefully surveyed everything again. What was he missing? All personal items had been left untouched in the room. A list had been carefully made of each item. Nothing seemed amiss. The only signs of a struggle were disturbed bedclothes and a pair of crushed eyeglasses on the floor next to the woman’s body. She must have attempted to fight, to reach out for help, but could only grasp the bedspread.

As if she had just stepped to the side of her bed, about to pull down the covers, when she had been attacked. The phone and its cord had been right there, next to her on the nightstand. Premeditated? Or was it a case that the murder weapon had been at hand and this was done in a fit of rage? An impulse killing? The woman was average height, but seeing her body, Nate wouldn’t have thought her to have been a particularly strong woman. If she had turned her back and someone slipped the cord around her neck, it had to be someone she had trusted. Someone known to her and definitely not a stranger.

Idly, he opened and closed each of the bureau drawers. He knelt down and checked under the bed. He lightly touched each of the bottles and cosmetics in the bathroom. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual. A stack of books sat on the desk. He picked one up and leafed through it. On the back cover was a photo of the dead woman. Hilary Stone’s hair was artfully arranged. She wore an attractive pair of glasses in pastel frames. Nate felt a thrill run through him. Eyeglasses.

He returned to the side of the bed and picked up the broken eyeglasses with a tissue, grasping the thin metal frame. Pince-nez glasses. He had assumed this pair belonged to the murdered woman. He held one lens up to his eye. Very strong. He opened the purse on the bureau and found another pair that had definitely belonged to the murdered woman. These were framed in a light-colored plastic like the photo on the book cover. He tested them. Only slight magnification. Readers. These twisted eyeglasses belonged to someone else.

A tap came on the door to the bedroom. “Nate?” Barbara Drake stood in the doorway. “Is it okay to come in?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m just about done here.” He held up the twisted eyeglasses. “Do you recognize these?”

“No. Sorry. I know Ms. Stone wore glasses but I don’t remember her wearing anything like those.”

“More like these?” Nate asked, holding up the plastic-framed glasses.

“Yes, those were hers. I saw her wearing them.”

“Just as I thought,” Nate replied. “While I have you here, have you noticed anything unusual since these guests arrived?”

“Well, they’re a pretty unusual bunch, but no. Nothing I can think of.”

“Anyone strange hanging around that you might have noticed? Did anyone try to come to see Ms. Stone?”

Barbara began to shake her head. “No. I don’t think . . . wait, yes, there was someone, a woman.”

“She came here?”

“Yes, very polite. She asked to speak to Ms. Stone.”

“Did she? When was this?”

“Uh, it was a few days ago. Sunday morning, I think. I thought I saw Phoebe stop and speak to her, but I’m not really positive. I did buzz Mr. Stone in his room and he came down to talk to her. He’s been very adamant about not having his mother disturbed by anyone.”

“Did she leave her name by any chance?”

Barbara shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. At least not with me.”

“What did she look like?”

“Oh . . .” Barbara hesitated. “Average. I really didn’t pay much attention. Just got a quick look. Well groomed, about my height, attractive, short brown hair as I recall. I left her to wait for Derek to come down and went back to the kitchen. You’ll have to ask him.”

Nate reached inside his jacket and pulled out a photo. “Is this the woman?”

Barbara stared at the photo. “Oh!” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Is this the woman you found in the woods?”

Nate nodded. “Was this her?”

Barbara stared at the photo for a few more moments. “I . . . it could be, Nate. I’m not sure. I didn’t pay much attention and this picture is . . . horrible. It could be, but I can’t swear to it.”

“Okay, that’s fine, Barbara. If you remember anything else, will you call me?” Barbara nodded. Her face looked pale. She left the room without another word.

•   •   •

P
HOEBE
H
OLLISTER SAT
quietly in the chair, her hands clasped tightly together on her lap. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face swollen. She had been crying for a long time. Nate had taken over the common suite on the second floor to question the Stone entourage and the rest of the guests at the Drake House.

“How long did you work for Ms. Stone, Phoebe?”

“Not long, only about a month.”

“Really? Where did you work before?”

“Oh. I see what you mean. I worked for Mr. Stone at the publishing house, Hilary’s . . . Ms. Stone’s husband. I started there a couple of months ago, and when this trip was arranged, Mr. Stone asked me if I would like to be her assistant on the road. Sort of a temporary arrangement.”

“And how did you like working for her?”

“She was fine. She could be very fussy sometimes, but she was never unkind to me. The hard part has been . . .” She trailed off.

“What’s been the hard part?”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Just dealing with everyone else. Audra’s okay, but sometimes Derek, Ms. Stone’s son, and his wife could be difficult. It’s just been a juggling job taking care of limousines and travel arrangements and such, but it’s also been a nice change in routine for me.”

“And how did you come to work for Lexington Avenue Publishing?”

“A friend told me about a possible opening, and I just applied. I had been doing temporary work in the city and I was looking for a permanent spot. It was good timing.” Phoebe’s jaw clenched and her hands gripped each other. Nate felt he was going out of his way to make her comfortable with his questions, but she seemed to grow more uncomfortable the more he questioned her.

“Can you tell me everything you did and saw last night?”

“There was nothing remarkable,” she replied curtly. “The book signing ended promptly at nine o’clock. I was grateful for that. It had been a long day. We came back here together, Ms. Stone and I. Derek drove us back. Hilary said she was a bit hungry and she wanted something light to eat but the kitchen downstairs was closed. Someone had mentioned the chef at the Spoonful and she wanted me to order something from there.”

“How did you arrange that?”

Phoebe sighed in annoyance. “I told all this to your deputy. I really don’t see why you can’t talk to him.”

Nate struggled to keep his voice level. “I realize that. But sometimes going over your recollections can bring new things to light.” He repeated his question. “How did you arrange for the food to be delivered?”

Phoebe closed her eyes for a long second and took a deep breath. “I was afraid the restaurant would be closed. I went downstairs to talk to Mrs. Drake, the owner. She gave me the number. I asked Audra if she wanted anything. She did not, but she called the restaurant and they said they’d take care of it.” All this was recited in a robotic voice.

“And then?”

“Then?” Phoebe pursed her lips.

“Yes. What did you do after that?”

She sighed again, a look of anger crossing her face. “I tapped on Hilary’s door to let her know someone would be bringing up food for her. I asked her if there was anything else she needed. There wasn’t. That was it. Hilary said she was fine, so I went back to my room and got ready for bed.”

“And what time was that?”

“I guess it must have been around . . . nine thirty or a little after. I didn’t really pay attention.”

“Some of the guests heard loud voices on the second floor a little after that time. Did you hear anything?”

Phoebe nodded. “I did. I heard a man’s voice. It sounded like an argument.”

“Did you come out of your room?”

“No,” Phoebe snapped back. “I certainly did not.”

“Why not?” Nate asked mildly. “Weren’t you concerned?”

“I assumed it was Derek and his wife. Sometimes they argue and get quite loud. I wasn’t about to interfere or step into that. So I stayed put.” Phoebe’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying that . . . that I should have checked on her?”

“I’m not saying that. Besides, you couldn’t possibly have known. And you might be right. It could just have been Mr. Stone and his wife.” Nate scribbled on the pad in front of him. “They argue a lot?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Stone and his wife?”

“I don’t know if you’d call it arguing. That would take two people. Mostly it’s just Sylvia yelling at him.” She continued to twist her fingers nervously.

“I see.” Nate flicked his ballpoint pen closed. “Okay, Phoebe. That’s all for now.”

“Do you know when can we get back to New York?”

“In a few days. I’m sorry. I’m just asking everyone to stay just in case I have more questions. I’ll let you know.”

Phoebe nodded. She rose and walked to the door, then hesitated and turned back.

“Yes?” Nate looked up.

“I just wanted to say that . . . whoever did this, you won’t have to look very far for motives.” She slipped out the door and shut it quietly behind her.

Nate stared at her retreating figure.

Chapter 25

L
UCKY LOOKED UP
as Jack pushed open the door of the office and entered.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure.” Lucky pushed the stack of bills to the side. The old leather desk chair creaked as she sat back.

“Uh . . .” Jack hesitated. “What did you think about Nanette’s idea, my girl?”

Lucky had to focus to recall what Jack was talking about. “I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t—”

“Her idea about changing the design of the aprons and all,” he said as he sat in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“Oh.” Lucky hesitated. “That. Um . . .” She wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. “Do you really want to know how I feel?”

“Well, of course I do, my girl.”

Lucky looked across the desk at her grandfather. She mentally counted to three to soften what she was about to say. “I really love the aprons the way they are. And I love my dad’s sign in the window. Every time I pull an apron out of the closet, I think about Mom, and every time I see the neon sign in the window, I remember my dad. So, to answer your question, the last thing I want to do is let go of those little symbols of their being here.”

Jack nodded. “I understand. It’s just that Nanette seems to have a good eye for these things and she’s worked in a lot of places, she’s told me, so—”

“Frankly, Jack. She’s really put my back up.”

“What are you sayin’?”

“She still hasn’t given me any identification, a driver’s license, social security card, something. In fact, if she doesn’t provide it very soon, I’m going to have to pay her for her time and let her go.”

“What?” Jack almost shouted.

“I’m going to have to let her go. I can’t have someone working here who can’t provide valid tax identification. It’s against the law and we don’t need that kind of trouble.”

“I’ll have a talk with her.”

“It’s not just that. It’s everything about her. She’s argued with Sage and told him his recipes needed improvement, which is just ridiculous. She’s been here three seconds and already she’s trying to change things and offer opinions about things that don’t concern her. She spends more time hanging around you at the cash register than she does waiting on tables.”

“Well, I like her company. It’s partly my fault. I’ve encouraged her to chat with me.”

“Don’t you think she’s being a little too friendly? A little inappropriate?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked in a shocked voice.

Lucky took a deep breath. “Jack! I’ve seen her put her arm around you. She rubs your shoulder . . .”

“She likes me. What’s wrong with that? You think ’cause I’m an old man, no woman would be attracted to me, is that what you mean?” Jack’s voice rose.

“No. That’s unfair, Jack. That’s not what I mean.”

“Look, you just don’t like her. She told me she’s had trouble like that where she’s worked before. It’s just women that don’t like her and take it out on her. Just jealousy.”

“Oh”—Lucky could feel her temper rising—“a regular martyr, now, is she?”

Jack’s jaw clamped shut. “Well, if you’re gonna take that attitude, there’s no use talking to you.”

“I’ll just bet she’s had trouble every place she worked. I can certainly see why,” Lucky retorted.

“You know what? You’re every bit as stubborn and pigheaded as your father, you know that?”

“Probably I am. But the next time she’s hanging around your neck at the cash register, please ask her to produce some real identification, will you?”

Jack face darkened. “This is my business too, my girl. I know your parents left it to you, but I’m part owner and I’ve got a say in what goes on here.” Jack stood and stormed to the door, slamming it behind him.

Lucky sat staring at the door her grandfather had just stomped out of.
Why is this happening?
she thought. Arguing with Jack, a man she loved with all her heart? She shook her head. This was out of control. Nanette had to go. Something was not right about that woman. But first she needed someone to replace her. She couldn’t risk Meg’s quitting.

Lucky heard a tap on the door. “What?” she shouted.

The door cracked open and Sophie peeked around the doorway. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Oh, right. Your face is beet red and your breathing’s shallow. What’s going on? I thought I heard Jack yelling.”

Lucky heaved a sigh. “You did.”

“I’ve never seen him get upset . . . much less argue with you.”

“I know. I feel bad. I was kind of sarcastic to him. I should have been gentler. I tried, I really did. We were arguing about Nanette.”

“Oh.” A wealth of opinion was in the one word that Sophie uttered.

“What’s your impression of her?”

“Well, she’s managed to get Sage in an uproar. You know how he is about his kitchen. He couldn’t stop complaining the other night.”

“That’s what I mean. I told Jack what I thought of her hanging around the cash register and sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He defended her!” Lucky almost shouted. “Can you believe that? The woman still hasn’t given me any proper identification. And now she’s on about how we should change the aprons and the neon sign and all that.”

“What does Jack say?”

“He thinks she has good ideas!”

“This woman has a colossal nerve. How long has she worked here? A few days maybe?”

Lucky shook her head. “She’s making me crazy. And there’s no way in hell the aprons or the sign are changing. No way. Over my dead body.”

“Be careful what you say,” Sophie warned. “Besides, it’s your business. What do you care what she thinks?”

“Oh, Sophie.” Lucky leaned back in the chair. “It’s really Jack’s too. I can’t deny that. He started it with my parents. He’s part of it. Just because they left it to me. If I had decided not to come back, I don’t think Jack could have or would have kept it running, but he’s still part owner, ethically at least. Besides, even if he weren’t, I don’t want to hurt his feelings or argue with him. I feel really bad that I got him upset. It’s just not how I want my working days to be. Jack and I are really close. I love him to pieces. If he walked out, I’d never forgive myself. I don’t know how I’d feel.”

Sophie plopped heavily into the chair that Jack had vacated. “That woman is a snake.”