Crossing the Lion (a Reigning Cats and Dog) (2010) (20 page)

“We all had a difficult night,” Missy piped up. “We were just talking about that very subject. I think it’s a combination of this awful weather and the fact that Daddy’s funeral is today.”

“That would explain it,” Harry agreed.

I noticed that he didn’t look at Missy—or Townie, for that matter—as he sat down at the table, as far
away from his lady friend as possible. Instead, he focused on his cup, seemingly intent on ingesting as much coffee as he could.

While both Missy and Harry were highly skilled at acting as if nothing was going on, I wasn’t nearly as good at it. So I was relieved when Nick came bursting through the doorway, as energetic as a talk-show host who was making his entrance.

“Good morning, everybody,” he cheerfully greeted the four of us. “Looks like we’re in for more rain.”

Thank goodness for weather, I thought as everyone mumbled their agreement. How would any of us get through life without being able to bring it up whenever there was nothing else to say?

“It’s going to be pretty uncomfortable, crossing the bay this morning,” Townie observed. “The water will probably be rough enough to make all of us seasick. Fortunately, it’s a short trip.”

“Actually,” Missy said, “it occurred to me that it might be a good idea for someone to stay behind while the rest of us are at the funeral. I expect most of those dreadful reporters and photographers on the other side of the bay to follow us to the funeral, but some might stay behind to try to sneak over to the island. I can imagine them snapping pictures and peering through our windows and heaven only knows what else. If that happened, we’d need someone to alert the police.”

“Won’t Alvira be here?” Harry asked.

“Aunt Alvira has already made it clear that she has no intention of accompanying the rest of us
anywhere,” Missy replied curtly. “True to form, she pooh-poohed the very idea of a memorial service for her brother. She intends to stay up in the attic, the way she always does.”

Focusing on Nick and me, she added, “I wondered if the two of you would be willing to remain here at the house while the rest of us go to the service and then on to the funeral home. Since neither of you knew my father and all.”

“Of course,” I replied immediately.

“Whatever you want,” Nick agreed.

Inwardly, I was rejoicing. Being asked to stay behind with Nick was more than I could have asked for. And it had nothing to do with my charming husband—but plenty to do with having just been handed the opportunity to do some high-quality snooping.

•  •  •

The first thing on the day’s agenda was paying a second visit to Alvira. Ever since she’d promised to share a tidbit of information she referred to as a clue, I’d been counting the minutes until I had the chance to find out what it was. Since I’d soon have the house practically to myself, I decided to be patient.

After breakfast, Nick headed back up to our room to immerse himself in the principles of law. Max and Lou trotted after him happily. I, meanwhile, went into the sitting room that was closest to the front door to wait for everyone to leave. Since I figured I should at least try to look as if I had a reason for being there, I grabbed one of the thick volumes off the shelf. Fortunately,
the gesture didn’t set any shelving units or other pieces of furniture into motion.

I plopped into an overstuffed chair and opened the heavy book in my lap. But I was much more interested in the sounds of the Merrywoods and the rest of their household getting ready to travel across the bay together for the funeral.

When someone walked into the room, I automatically looked over to see who it was—then immediately did a double take.

At first glance I’d thought it was Scarlett, but I had to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.

I was, but this was a whole new Scarlett. The other one could best be described as
prim
. This one, on the other hand, could best be described as
va-va-voom
.

Instead of wearing her hair pulled back in a severe bun, today she had a lush mane cascading over her shoulders. Before it had looked like a respectable dark brown. Now, however, I could see that it was a deep shade of espresso, interlaced with strands of gold that might or might not have been natural.

Her conservative business suit had been replaced by a tight-fitting dress with a short jacket made of the same fine wool. It was black, of course, since she was on her way to a funeral. But the dress skimmed her frame in an extremely flattering manner, hugging curves that had been impossible to discern beneath a straight skirt and tailored blazer. The neckline was low, perhaps even too low for an occasion like this one, since it revealed an abundant amount of cleavage that once again was new to me.

No sensible shoes today, either. Scarlett wore black heels that were so spiky, any self-respecting dominatrix would have been proud to own them.

And while I’d never seen her wearing any makeup before, that, too, had changed. The shade of lipstick she wore was a deep brownish-red that complemented her skin tones. She’d apparently substituted contact lenses for glasses, and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were dark brown. The same tone was mirrored in her eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, all expertly applied.

To use an old-fashioned phrase, she looked like a scarlet woman.

“Hello, Jessie,” she said casually. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

“I was looking for a good spot to read,” I said, holding up the book I’d grabbed off the shelf. “Missy asked me to stay behind while everybody else goes to the funeral. I figured I’d stay here on the main floor so I could keep an eye on the place, but it’s hard to find a decent reading light anywhere in this house.”

“I know what you mean,” she agreed, rolling her eyes. “I constantly nagged Linus about it, telling him over and over again how bad it was for his eyes. But he always had his own way of doing things.”

A heavy silence followed, no doubt the result of both of us contemplating the fact that Linus’s days of doing things his own way were over.

“What are you reading?” Scarlett finally asked, craning her neck.

Good question
, I thought.

I held up the book, allegedly to show her the cover but really to let
me
see it.

“Uh,
Understanding the Basic Principles of Accounting,”
I said, as surprised as she probably was. Thinking fast and speaking even faster, I added, “Part of being a veterinarian means running my own business. I have a terrific assistant, but I need to learn more about the day-to-day stuff myself.”

“I see,” she replied, not sounding entirely convinced.

Wanting to move away from that topic in case she decided to ask me something technical, I observed, “You certainly look … as if you’re ready to go.” I’d caught myself at the last second, realizing that complimenting her appearance, even as a matter of politeness, wouldn’t have been appropriate.

“We’re all planning to go over together,” she said. “The service starts at noon, and since it’s still pouring, it might take us awhile to get there. I hope everyone else is running on schedule.”

She flicked her sleeve and glanced at her watch. It looked as if it was made of pure gold. But something else also made it glint: Both the band and the oval-shaped face were studded with diamonds. Not those pitiful specks that I could afford, either. These were king-sized diamonds that had undoubtedly come with a king-sized price tag.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of accessory I’d expect someone to be able to afford on a personal assistant’s salary, even if the person she personally assisted was known for his generosity.

This bit of bling hinted at a totally different level of generosity.

And then Scarlett brushed back a strand of hair that had swooped down into her eyes. As she pushed it behind one ear, she revealed more shininess. This time, it was in the form of a diamond stud the size of a dime.

Cook’s assertion that one of the other females in the household had been more than a loyal employee was starting to ring true. In fact, suddenly all the jokes about Miss Scarlet and the lead pipe in the conservatory didn’t seem quite so amusing.

Just because Scarlett turns out to be stunningly sexy doesn’t mean she was up to no good
, I reminded myself.
You can’t assume that every woman who’s drop-dead gorgeous uses her looks for devious purposes
.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking that Scarlett’s attractiveness probably wouldn’t go unnoticed by any man, even one like Linus, who had practically been elevated to sainthood by almost everyone who knew him.

As for her expensive baubles, it was possible that she came from money—or that she had an indulgent boyfriend who was closer to her own age, not to mention unmarried. Or maybe she was simply good at handling her own finances, which enabled her to splurge on a piece of jewelry every now and then. I decided to hold off on judging her.

“The funeral will probably be pretty tough,” I commented, “but hopefully it will help give everyone a sense of closure.”

Scarlett nodded. “Even so, I think it’s going to take all of us quite some time to get over this.”

“I’m sure,” I agreed. “I know you’re all going to miss Linus. I’ve really been struck by how well loved he was.” Studying her carefully, I added, “It’s hard to believe that anyone could have possibly intended to kill him.”

Scarlett lowered herself onto the couch opposite me, sitting down gingerly as if she was taking care not to muss up her outfit.

Extending one long leg, made even longer by her S&M-style footwear, she said, “I’d be inclined to believe it was an accident if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone—and I mean absolutely everyone—knew how dangerous it was for poor Mr. Merrywood to go anywhere near an egg.”

I nodded. “Lieutenant Falcone talked to Cook, and the conclusion seems to be that someone stole into the kitchen and substituted a chocolate cake made with eggs for the one she’d made without any.” Still watching her carefully, I added, “The question is, who?”

“I know one thing that might help the police figure that out,” she said with a strange smile.

“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Linus’s will.”

Exactly what I was itching to learn about.

“Do you know anything about who’s inheriting what?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “After all, you were his personal assistant.”

Scarlett eyed me warily. As our gazes locked, I got
the feeling she was debating whether or not to tell me what she knew.

Or maybe she was telling the truth when she replied, “I honestly don’t know a thing about it. It’s true I was involved in much of what went on in Linus’s life, but that didn’t include whatever plans he made for after his death.”

Her response got me wondering again about Scarlett’s true role in her employer’s life. Had she been more than just his assistant? And if she was, did she truly care for him or was she simply seeking a way to walk away with a piece of the Merrywood pie?

But before I had a chance to ask her any more questions, Charlotte bustled into the room. As usual, she looked as if she deserved to be on the cover of a magazine, even if it happened to be the one the AARP put out. Like Scarlett, she was dressed in black. But her dress exuded dignity and good taste, with clean lines and a modest length and neckline. Her jewelry was similarly understated, even though it still managed to scream wealth: a string of pearls, a diamond-studded bangle bracelet on one wrist, a simple gold Cartier watch on the other.

“There you are, Scarlett,” she said, smiling at her husband’s former assistant. “You look very nice.”

“Thank you,” Scarlett replied, smiling back. “I decided to dress up in Mr. Merrywood’s honor. I wore this dress to his birthday party. He seemed to like it.”

“He was very fond of you, my dear,” Charlotte said.

My eyebrows shot up. Was Charlotte, the trusting wife, really so naïve?

Or was I the one who was reading into things?

“I think everyone is ready,” Charlotte said. She went over to Scarlett and put her arm around her, almost as if they were mother and daughter. “I’m glad we’re all going over together. It will make this easier for everyone.”

Turning to me, she added, “Thank you, Jessica, for agreeing to watch the house while we’re gone. I just don’t feel comfortable leaving it unattended with all those horrid reporters and photographers lurking across the bay.”

“I’m glad there’s something I can do to help,” I replied.

But as I watched the two women amble toward the front door, where the others were gathering, it occurred to me that I’d try to do even more to help while they were gone. If things turned out the way I hoped, by the time they returned I’d be that much closer to figuring out who had killed Linus.

•  •  •

I stayed in my seat until the front door slammed shut. But the banging sound was still echoing through the hollow hallways of the house as I jumped out of my chair and ran up to my bedroom, taking the steps two at a time.

I found Nick stretched out on the bed. Surrounding him were Max and Lou, a laptop, a pad of yellow legal-size paper, a bunch of highlighter pens, and
several textbooks so hefty they made Alvira’s dumbbells look like toys.

“Detective Popper,” he greeted me, flinging his legal pad across the bed. “What insightful little tidbits have you uncovered this morning?”

I filled him in on the details he’d missed at breakfast with Missy, Townie, and Harry, marveling over how good the illicit lovers were at pretending they were nothing more than friends. Then I told him about my latest theory, that Scarlett might have been more than simply Linus’s assistant—and that not all her compensation for her duties may have come from a paycheck.

“The plot is definitely thickening,” he observed once I’d finished. “It’ll be interesting to find out what’s in the old man’s will.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said. “Maybe that information will help me figure out once and for all what all the intrigues in this household add up to.”

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, you’re in the process of becoming a lawyer. Do you have any secret ways of finding out what’s in Linus’s will?”