A Premonition of Murder (25 page)

27

“Somehow Abigail is the key to all this,” Ali said. “I just know it.”

“It may go all the way back to Desiree,” I said, recalling Noah's words. “Until we figure out what happened to Desiree, we may never discover who murdered Abigail and Lucy.”

It was the next day, and I was helping Ali and Dana set out coffee and pastries for the morning crowd. We decided to open the shop a little early today. The Harper sisters were dropping by to pick up candies for their nephew's class party, and Dorien wanted to see our tasting tray. I was sure she wanted to copy the idea for her own shop, and I didn't really mind. It's good to be neighborly, and there's room for both of us in the district.

Dorien has been having a hard time getting a foothold in the catering business, and she said she hoped we could “partner up” for some promotions. Offhand, I couldn't think of any way we could join forces. Her business isn't really
much of a success and she's scrimping by with her part-time work as a tarot card reader. I feel sorry for her, but I don't want to jeopardize our own business by rushing into anything with her.

“I'm not so sure about Desiree,” Ali countered. “What if it really was just an accident? Maybe she had too much to drink and fell into the river that night? She'd been spotted prancing along the edge of the pier, shoes in her hand, high as a kite. One misstep and she could have landed in the water. She probably couldn't swim in that floor-length cocktail dress, and she might have gone right under.”

“That's a possibility, I guess.” I found myself going back and forth on what happened to Desiree. Officially, the case was closed, but Noah had looked over all the police records and wasn't convinced that her death was due to natural causes. Abigail had certainly had her suspicions, at least after the fact. But why hadn't she pushed for a more aggressive investigation at the time? She had the money and connections to fund a deeper look into her sister's death.

Or could it be that she was too grief-stricken to think clearly, and she had let the opportunity pass her by? That was the only explanation that made sense to me. The only other possibility was that she was involved in her sister's death, and I simply didn't believe it. The two sisters were close, and Abigail felt her sister's loss very keenly.

I'd told Ali as much as I could about Lucy's death as soon as I got home last night. Just as I'd suspected, she'd been waiting up for me. She was upset, but was glad that I'd visited the crime scene with Noah. She'd become a little teary when I told her that Lucy may have been murdered, but she managed to control her emotions and ask all the right questions. At this point, she knew as much as I did.

The Harper sisters arrived a few minutes later, and I filled
them in on the events at Beaux Reves. Both seemed upset at Lucy's death, particularly at the thought that she might have met with foul play.

“When will the police know for sure, dear?” Minerva asked me.

“I suppose after the autopsy,” I said. I glanced at Ali. I didn't want to say too much in front of her. “There seems to be some question about whether she was actually electrocuted or just stunned and held underwater long enough to drown.”

“Held underwater?” Rose blanched. “How would the police know that for certain?”

“There seemed to be bruises on her back,” I said in a low voice. Ali was busying herself taking a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. They're one of our most popular items, and we always seem to run short. “Sam said she thought she saw some suspicious marks on the body, but she couldn't be sure.”

I didn't go into detail about my theory of the boom box and the cord. All that would be left up to the CSIs. Noah said I should trust my instincts. I was positive the cord was too short so Lucy couldn't have been balancing the boom box on the edge of the tub, but it was silly to speculate. “We should know something in the next few hours,” I said with more certainty than I felt.

“I wish we knew what Abigail's inner life was like,” Ali said, joining us.

Rose and Minerva exchanged a look. I'm sure they had no idea what Ali was talking about. “Inner life?” Rose asked.

“Her hopes and dreams, her fears, her goals. The sort of thing you'd put in a diary.”

“I wish the police
had
found a diary,” I said feelingly.
“Even a date book. Everything hinges on what Abigail was planning the night she died. What a pity she didn't keep one. We'd know if she had an appointment that night and who she was meeting.”

“Oh, but she did keep a diary, Taylor,” Minerva said. “She called it ‘the book.' She mentioned it at lunch that day, do you remember? She was so surprised at the idea of dream interpretation that she said something like, ‘
This is one for the book
.'”

This is one for the book.
“You know, I did notice that,” I said slowly. It was all coming back to me. The happy, sun-splashed patio, the smile on Abigail's face as she realized she wasn't condemned to death by her dream. “And you're right, those are exactly the words she used.
The book.
I thought maybe she was writing a novel.”

“A novel? Oh, good heavens, no,” Minerva said. “That was just an expression. She always called it
the book
, and I assumed it was a diary of some kind. Or maybe an appointment book.”

“Did you ever see it?” Ali asked eagerly. “This
book
of hers?” She quickly poured coffee for everyone and greeted Dorien, motioning her to a bar stool. “We're talking about whether or not Abigail kept a diary,” she said, filling her in on the discussion.

Minerva pushed a plate of croissants toward Dorien and said, “No, I'm afraid I can't help you there. I never saw it, but I know it exists.”

“But where is it?” Ali said, frustrated. “It's got to be somewhere at Beaux Reves, but the place is so huge. Taylor and I have only had time to look in a few rooms.”

“I have an idea,” Dorien said, turning to Minerva. “You and Rose probably knew Abigail better than anyone. What was Abigail's favorite room in the mansion? Do you know?”

Minerva put down her coffee cup and rested her chin on her hand for a long moment. “It had to be the library,” she said finally. “That was the room where she felt the happiest, surrounded by her beloved books, listening to a violin concerto. Sometimes she had Lucy light a fire for her, and she said she loved to look at the burning logs. She told me it was the most peaceful room in the house.”

“The library,” Dorien repeated. “That's interesting. I had a dream about Abigail last night, and she was in the library.”

Ali and I exchanged a look. Was Dorien telling the truth or was this a shameless bid for attention?

“It must have been the library. It had walls and walls of books. It had a fireplace with a green marble mantelpiece and a maidenhair fern in a pot.” Dorien was staring off into the distance as if she was lost in another dimension. Her voice became low, hypnotic. “There were two ceramic dogs guarding the fireplace. The room was dark, with heavy drapes. It had lots of mahogany paneling and what they call a ‘tray ceiling.' I remember thinking it would look a lot better if someone let some light in. Abigail smiled and motioned to me to sit down. And then I woke up,” she finished abruptly.

I could hardly contain my surprise and stared at Ali. What Dorien had described was the library at Beaux Reves. Her description was perfect, down to the last detail. How was this possible? I'd seen everything for myself: the green marble mantelpiece, the dark wood paneling. Even the ceramic dogs and the maidenhair fern. It was as though she had an exact image of the Beaux Reves library imprinted in her mind.

How had she described the room so perfectly? Had Dorien ever been inside the mansion? I doubted it. Of course, she could have seen a photograph of the Beaux Reves library, perhaps in a travel book. Some people have photographic
memories and are able to recall a picture in complete detail. I don't have that ability, but I know it exists.

“That's very interesting,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

“Well, maybe that will put you on the right track,” Dorien said, biting into a croissant. “Have you settled on a suspect yet?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Here's where we are.” I took a few minutes to bring Minerva, Rose, and Dorien up to speed on the missing items from the mansion and our suspicion that more than one person might be involved.

“The trouble is, anyone could have been stealing from the mansion,” Ali said. “Even Lucy.”

“Surely not Lucy!” Rose said. “She was devoted to Abigail.”

“I'm sure she was,” I said gently, “but she could have been in dire straits. I suspect she might have had some financial difficulties. Her son seemed to be a complete drain on her. Of course, other people at Beaux Reves had access to valuables, too.” I ticked off the possibilities on the fingers of one hand. “There is Nicky, her son. Angus, who was hired to do an inventory. Sophie, who is a bit of a mystery woman, and Jeb, the estate manager.”

“You don't really think Jeb is involved in Lucy's murder?” Dorien put down her cup in surprise.

“Well,” I said hesitantly, “probably not the murder, but I'm sure he's involved in the thefts.”

“I don't buy it. I know his former sister-in-law, and she thinks he's a nice guy. He broke up with her sister, but he still comes by for dinner once in a while. He's got a bit of a drinking problem, but I guess you already knew that.”

“Yes, I suspected it.” I remembered smelling alcohol on his breath at Abigail's memorial service. I looked at Ali and raised my eyebrows. We should have asked Dorien about the
suspects before. She might not be Miss Congeniality, but she has a certain shrewdness and knows a lot about what's going on in Savannah. As Noah said, “You never know where a tiny detail will lead you. Talk to everyone. You might get a nugget of information that you can put together with other clues to form the whole picture.”

Ali poured more coffee for everyone. “Dorien, you said she considers him a nice guy. Why is that?”

“Well, she said he stops by to help her occasionally. She's single with two kids and runs a little farm outside Savannah. He picks up bales of hay for her and delivers them right to the paddock; those things are heavy and they weigh nearly a hundred pounds each. He's good with the horses. She really can't afford to keep the two mares, but the kids love them so much she can't part with them.” She grinned. “And Jeb always brings pizza for the kids. He's a good guy.”

I nodded. Jeb was great with horses and kids. Maybe he did have his good points after all, and in any case, I wasn't really looking at him as the killer. I flashed back to Sam's comment on the smudged handprint on the banister. She'd mentioned something that made me think of horses. What was it?

“And he does odd jobs for her, too,” Dorien went on, breaking into my thoughts. “He's rewired the barn even though he's not licensed as an electrician. She could never afford to pay a real electrician to do what he does, so he really helps her out. He's had a few gambling debts, but he's doing the best he can. Everyone has secrets,” she added glumly, staring into her coffee.

The breakfast crowd started trickling in then, and I quickly scooted off the bar stool. Dana had come in at the same time and was already seating them and handing out menus. “Do you want to see the tasting tray?” I asked Dorien, who nodded. I'd already put together Minerva's order for her
nephew and Ali started to ring it up. I knew all Jason's favorite candies and had made sure I included them in the box.

“Did you add those little chocolate coins in the mesh bags?” Minerva asked, reaching for her purse. “He wants to make sure all his classmates get one to take home with them.”

“Forty-three,” Ali said. “And one for the teacher.”

“Perfect!” Minerva and Rose said in unison.