Authors: Carolyn Hart
Engaged to Die (15 page)
Annie added to her timetable:
| Â | 9 | Â | Chloe runs through kitchen parking lot. |
| Â | 9:10 | Â | Beth Kelly runs past Tony Hasty. |
| Â | 9:14 | Â | Hasty finds body. |
Annie rubbed her nose. Interesting. Hasty claimed he didn't know the identity of the victim until the police arrived. Hasty didn't say a word about his daughter Elaine, who obviously knew O'Neill very well indeed.
Annie returned Hasty's statement to her pile, plucked another.
Irene Neville
So here I am, within shouting distance of a murder, and damned if I didn't miss it all. I didn't even hear the sirens when the cops came. I guess there were
sirens. We didn't know anything was wrong until Max Darling came and got us. Everybody's going to want a blow-by-blow and I must have been on my way back from the tent when somebody bopped Jake. I'd been up there fussing at Gene Hammer, the bandleader. Honestly, if Gene didn't have the only dance band this side of Hilton Head, he'd have to be a damn sight more charming to get gigs. But we're stuck with him. If you hire somebody off island, you have to pray there's no fog. Anyway, I'd promised Carl I'd sweet-talk Gene into playing something besides swing, but Gene is stuck in the forties. He wasn't even born then. I don't understand his time warp. We have an old crowd, but not that old! Gene and I started negotiating about eight-thirty. Finally, he grudgingly agreed to play some Beatles. As for anything circa the nineties, forget it. Maybe I could buy the man some sheet music from the current century. Anyway, I got that straightened out, then I went back down to the gallery to find Carl. I knew it was about time for the program to start. I ran into Carl on the path and he'd brought me a glass of champagne. I'd earned it. We went inside the tent and watched Boston who was loving every minute of his own performance. Virginia sidled in and she was obviously looking for lover boy. She wandered around, looking puzzled, and then she left. I guess she went to check the gallery. When she came back, he wasn't with her. By this time she really looked upset. I got excited, thinking Jake had come to his senses and was going to dump her. But I knew Jake had his eye on the dollar and Virginia's got the dollars. He never showed up. Now it turns out somebody killed him. I can't say I'm sorry. He was an arrogant, greedy, spoiled jerk. If he'd married Virginia, you can
bet he'd have managed to get his grasping hands on our money. But don't cast one of us as first murderer. After all, if we wanted the money, it would make more sense to kill Virginia. Anyway, the Neville clan doesn't go in for murder. But I'm sorry I missed the show.
Annie doodled on her pad an iceberg jutting from the ocean. Beneath it she wrote: Irene. She raised an eyebrow. Irene's attitude would certainly rankle Billy Cameron if he looked beyond Chloe for a suspect. Irene seemed to be accounting for her timeâAnnie studied her timetableâbetween eight forty-five and nine fifteen. But in the noise and confusion, she could have finished her session with the bandleader and returned to the house in time to see Jake Neville and follow him to the point. No, Irene couldn't be considered the possessor of a cast-iron alibi. Irene's pointâthat killing Virginia, not Jake, would be the sensible way to assure the return of the family fortune to the Nevillesâwas undoubtedly valid. However, she certainly was belaboring the existence of her purported alibi. Thoughtfully, Annie reached for Carl Neville's statement.
Carl Neville
Jake's murder can't be connected in any way to the family or to the gallery. Jake has been a most valued employee even though he'd only been with us for a short time. He came to the island last summer. He was a capable portraitist and very well liked by our clients. I am terribly sorry for Virginia. She simply bloomed when she and Jake fell in love. Tonight was to have been an evening of great happiness. Instead Virginia is
overcome with grief. As for this eveningâI spoke with Jake about eight o'clock. His manner was normal. He appeared relaxed and in a good humor. In fact, his last words to me were to ask if I had some information about Saint Thomas. He thought it would please Virginia to go there for their honeymoon. I told him I'd get some material to him on Monday. After I left him, I found my wife and asked her to see about the band. Irene is very good at handling that kind of thing. I walked up to the tent with her, and then I was back and forth until the program began at shortly after nine. As I said, I am astounded by Jake's murder. I don't know of anything in his personal or professional life that could have led to such a dreadful attack. Perhaps he walked down to the point and interrupted some nefarious undertaking. There have been rumors that drugs are sold there. In any event, I am convinced the police will discover that his death was caused by someone unknown to us. Certainly all of us will cooperate in any way to help bring the killer to justice.
Annie smoothed out the sheet. Carl Neville said all the right things. Maybe that was because he was a right guy. Maybe. He sounded as though he liked Jake. But how could he have been happy about Virginia marrying him? Irene made it clear she opposed the marriage. Hmm. Probably no one else in the family was quite as forthcoming. She picked up Louise Neville's statement.
Louise Neville
Jake went out the back door of the gallery shortly before nine. He was alone. I did not see him again. I walked up to the tent and was there until summoned
by Mr. Darling. Jake was a superficially charming young man with some artistic talent. Older women liked him. I was not surprised when my sister-in-law agreed to marry him. I know nothing of his personal life. I have no idea what might have prompted his murder.
Annie raised an eyebrow. Tart, succinct, and unrevealing. If Louise Neville knew anything, she had no intention of sharing it with the police. She made no claim to an alibi. In actuality, any family member could have followed Jake while claiming they'd been walking between the gallery and the tent.
Annie picked up the final two statements, belonging to Susan and Rusty Brandt. Hmm. What was that business about Max taking Rusty's dinner jacket into custody? She decided to start with him.
Rusty Brandt
I don't know anything about what happened to Jake. I decline to make any statement until I have consulted with counsel.
Annie looked at the portable phone. She was tempted to grab it and call Rusty Brandt. But if he stonewalled the police, he certainly wouldn't talk to her. She wondered if he'd summoned a lawyer this morning. Obviouslyâunless he was simply fractiousâhe had something to hide. Refusing to make a statement would attract Billy's attention faster than strolling naked on the beach. And there was the matter of that jacket. There must be bloodstains on it. She promptly envisioned Max suggesting in a cautionary tone that she hesitate before jumping to conclusions.
But hey, when two plus two equals four, caution be damned. Okay. She once again held her pen over the pad, then shook her head. She'd finish the statements before she mapped out a plan. She mentally thumbed her nose at the cautionary image of Max. She wasn't impulsive. Not at all. She was, in fact, proceeding with all due diligence. She blinked, feeling muddled. Didn't due diligence have something to do with liability? That was the problem with absorbing years of legalese. After a while, the terms all sounded alike. Anyway, she was not impulsive, and she was quite capable of completing a task, even though she itched to fling herself at the telephone.
Susan Brandt
I saw Jake briefly around seven-thirty in the drawing room. He and Virginia were greeting guests. I was in and out of the kitchen most of the evening, overseeing the catering, until I went to the tent a few minutes before nine. I was surprised that Jake didn't join us there. I didn't know what had happened, but assumed there was some kind of problem when Virginia didn't announce their engagement. I can't imagine why Jake would have gone down to the point. I have no knowledge about his private affairs. He'd been with the gallery since last summer. His work was satisfactory.
“And,” Annie said aloud to Agatha, “she don't know nothin' 'bout nobody. No way. Butter wouldn't melt. In public. I'd love to have been in the Brandt car when they drove home last night. Especially when she asked Rusty about his jacket.”
Agatha rolled over on her back, stretched.
Annie gingerly smoothed the fur on her tummy,
yanked back her hand to avoid a swiping paw. “Okay,” she murmured. “Irene claims she was at the tent by eight-thirty, implies she was there most of the time, left to go find Carl. Could be true. Could be a lie. Louise says she came there a little before nine. Ditto Susan. Carl admits being back and forth. So⦔ Annie made the additions to her timetable. Sipping her coffee, she flipped to a fresh sheet, printed:
Â
SUSPECTS/MOTIVES
- 1. Chloe Martin. Jealousy over Jake's engagement to Virginia Neville.
- 2. Elaine Hasty. Another jilted lover?
- 3. Neville family members (Carl, Irene, Susan, Rusty, and Louise). To prevent Virginia from marrying Jake O'Neill and diluting their hoped-for inheritance.
Annie thought for a minute, then wrote quickly:
- 4. Tony Hasty. Anger over Jake's treatment of Elaine.
- 5. Beth Kelly, the second running woman. Near the scene but no known motive.
Annie was pleased at her crisp summary. She reached for the coffeepot to refill her mug, and the phone rang. She scooped up the portable phone, answered “Death on Demand,” and poured the strong hot coffee.
“Hi, Annie.” Henny Brawley was brisk. “So what did you smuggle out of the gallery in the book bag?”
Annie was silent.
“Come on, chum.” The store's bestâand savviestâcustomer was pleasant but determined. “I haven't read
mysteries from Deborah Adams to Margaret Yorke for nothing. Give.”
“Last night, as you know, I was pleased to assist the minions of the law, our acting captain and his hastily appointed deputy, one Max Darling, in gathering information.” Annie straightened the statements.
“Huzzah,” Henny applauded.
“I was requested not to look at the statements that were produced.” Annie managed to keep her tone pleasant.
“Not for the eyes of the unwashed, I take it. I'm sure you observed that stricture. Let's see,” Henny mused,
“you took up the statements, delivered themâunreadâto Max, butâ¦copy machine?”
“Sometimes you scare me.” Annie wasn't altogether kidding.
“So this morning, in the comfortable confines of Death on Demand, you are perusing material that is critical to the investigation. Bully for you.” Henny's tone was admiring. “Not even Miss Zukas could do better.”
Annie was absurdly pleased. Jo Dereske's librarian sleuth was one of Annie's all-time favorite fictional detectives. “Okay, Henny, you got me. I promised not to read them. I didn't. Not then.”
“But now⦔ There was an expectant pause.
“Right. Here's what I've gotâ¦.” Annie read the statements quickly, then described the crime scene and Chloe's reaction on the pier. “What do you think?”
There was a thoughtful pause. Finally, Henny sighed. “I'd say Chloe Martin's in big trouble. I'm sorry, Annie. I know you like her a lot.” There was the sound of sad finality in her voice.
Annie stiffened. Henny had an instinct for crime. But this time, she was wrong. “Chloe didn't do it.”
Henny's silence said more than a plethora of words.
Annie gripped the phone. “Lots of people didn't like him. Everybody in the Neville family was worried about Virginia marrying him. And evidently Elaine Hasty was upset with him. Her dad found the body, but he didn't say a word about Elaine and Jake.”
“Annie”âand now Henny's voice was kindâ“I understand. Chloe's your friendâ”
Annie remembered the pain in Chloe's voice last night: “I thought you were my friend.” And the sound of her running footsteps on the hollow wood of the pier and the way they faded to nothingness in the fog.
“âso you don't want to see what's right in front of you. But I have to tell you that I've known the Neville family for years. Susan's a good friend. A very good friend.” Henny's pause spoke volumes. “About as straight a shooter as I've ever known. And those statementsâeverybody's up-front. Sure they were back and forth between the gallery and the tent, but nobody saw one of them heading for the point. Who walks out to the point? Jake. Who runs back from the point? Chloe. You saw her yourself. Who ran away? Chloe. Who was furious with a two-timing Lothario? Chloe. Whose stole is drenched with blood? Chloe's.”
“The Nevilles didn't want him to marry Virginia.” Annie drew thick black lines beneath their names, Carl, Irene, Susan, Rusty, and Louise.
“Granted.” Henny was agreeable. “I'll admit that Rusty's jacket needs explaining. I'd say he's the only hope. But the preponderance of the evidence weighs against Chloe. As Benny Cooperman so wisely observed in
Murder Sees the Light,
âIf you find kittens in the doghouse are they puppies?'”
Annie glanced toward the section of humorous mys
teries. Henny loved all the books by Howard Engel. “Chloe didn't do it. You should have heard her last night. Why, for a minute she thought it might be Jake when we came to the pier. He always met her there at midnight.”
Henny made a sound midway between a sniff and a snort. “Uh-huh. Pretty smart on her part. Well, I'll hope this one turns out to be murder by a person or persons unknown, the old inquest verdict. For your sake and for Chloe's.”