Murder on the First Day of Christmas (Chloe Carstairs Mysteries) (6 page)

    
Dad rejoined our group a few minutes later. “Everything was all locked up,” he said quietly. “All the doors were locked from the inside, except for the kitchen door being used by Eloise’s catering crew and the front door, where the coat check girl was taking invitations and coats.”

    
By now the police had arrived and were getting to work.

    
Oscar introduced a tall, intense looking man standing by his side to the group, “Detective McGowan here has a few questions. Be sure to give him your names and addresses in case we need to contact you over the next few days. If, however, you saw anything out of the ordinary tonight, you need to tell us now.”

    
Jack Lassiter was getting more and more impatient with every “we” and “us” out of Oscar’s mouth.

    
“I mean, anything - no matter how small or seemingly insignificant,” Oscar continued. “Particularly if you saw Tony Trianos give Saul anything to eat or drink.”

    
The words caused an immediate reaction among several of us.

    
My first thought was, “Leading the witnesses.”

    
Beside me, I felt an almost imperceptible relaxing of Robin’s shoulders.

    
Jack Lassiter’s face lit up at the thought of seeing his name in the headlines.

    
“Trianos,” Angela murmured to herself, knowing better than anyone what dealings the writer and the notorious Trianos had had.

    
A look of satisfaction crossed Nancy Browley’s face. Even Bunny perked up as she always did at the mention of a good-looking man.

    
After Gavin and Bunny spent a few moments with the detective, my mother and I took our turn, while Dad spoke with Browley and Lassiter.

    “Max McGowan.” He shook our hands with that hard, alpha-male grip that makes you want to massage your own fingers afterward. Then he flipped through his notes as if looking for a few salient points from our permanent record. “So, you’re the decorators. Oscar tells me you gals found the hand on the back porch a couple of days ago.”

    
His tone was pleasant enough, his warm brown eyes friendly and curious. I couldn’t stand him on sight.

    
This was probably what Mom meant about giving people a chance, but my instincts told me all I needed to know about Detective McGowan - overgrown frat boy, charmer, women in his life would always play second fiddle to his dog, his muscle car and the post-game recaps at the local sports bar.

    “We found it quite by accident,” Mom said.

    “Dog led you to it, right?” He sounded like this was hard to believe.

    “I’m sure it’s all in the report.” Mom’s eyes flicked across the living room to where Dad was talking to Jack Lassiter.

    “You know, opportunity is a big part of an investigation. If this turns out to be murder, we’ll have to ask ourselves who knew where Saul kept his medicine? Who could’ve stolen his ring?”

    
“Do we look like the kind of people who could get hold of a severed hand?” I pointed out. “Or who steal ruby pinkie rings?”

    
Mom’s tight smile said my sarcasm wasn’t helping matters. “Before you start looking for motive, opportunity and means,” she said to McGowan, “don’t you think you should establish that this is a murder?”

    
Angela, her voice flat and unemotional seemed to answer for him. “They’re gone,” she said from the doorway of Saul’s study. “Saul’s discs - the ones with the notes for his new book. They’re gone.”

CHAPTER 6

     We spent Sunday trying to process what had happened to Saul, without much luck.  In addition to our shock, Mom was also worried about Angela.

     While Sunday had been calm and quiet, Monday was anything but. The day began with a call from Nancy Browley, which Mom graciously put on speakerphone while we calligraphied place cards for a museum fundraiser.

    
“Amanda, I can’t cope. The invitations are out, everybody’s RSVP’d, but how can I have a party Saturday after what happened to Saul?” she wailed.

    
“Have you…” Mom began, only to be cut off.

    
“Oscar is beside himself,” Nancy continued. “He and Saul were so close, but I can’t help thinking a party, well more like a gathering, could help everybody get back to normal, give us all a little comfort during this very, very sad time. What do you think?”

    
“Well…”

    
“Not that I want it to be morbid, mind you. I still want it to be fun. It’s a holiday party for gosh sakes, but it would have to be in good taste. I just don’t know.”

    
“I don’t…”

    
“I guess if we knew what really happened, it would be different, but with all these questions swirling around, it might be unseemly to have a party if it was…you know.”

    
“Murder?” I supplied, proud to have gotten in a complete sentence, even if it contained only a single word.

    
Nancy gasped. “So you think it was?”

    
“I have no idea,” I admitted.

    
“I heard the police are taking a very hard look at Robin. If you know what I mean.” Our caller stage whispered into the phone.

    
We waited for her to rush on, not even attempting to jump in.

    
“Amanda. Chloe. Are you still there?”

    
“Yes…” We tried simultaneously.

    
“I know. I’m at a loss, too. On the one hand, I can’t believe Robin could so coldly poison Saul right there in front of us. I thought she really loved the guy, and they were adorable together when he wasn’t being such an ass. On the other hand, men don’t enjoy long life spans around her. I heard that her last husband was loaded and she got everything. On the other hand, Saul’s heart was bad, and he didn’t take care of himself. What do you think, Amanda? I really want to know.”

    
“About what, exactly?” Mom asked, still reeling from all Nancy’s vacillations. Just how many “other hands” did the woman have?

    
“Robin. The party. Anything.” Our caller couldn’t hide her impatience.

    
“I have no idea what happened to Saul,” Mom said carefully. “Till the autopsy comes back nobody does. As for your party…”

    
“You know what galls me most about the damn party,” Nancy barged on, her voice turning vicious. “Everything was a competition with Saul. His party always had to be first, to be biggest or the best. It was like he was jealous of me and Oscar. Like he was in competition with me for Oscar’s affection or something. And he would do anything to win - anything. I knew he’d find some way to ruin my party.”

    
“By dying?” I said incredulously. “I don’t think that’s something you can take personally.”

    
“Not that, Chloe. Let’s just say you didn’t know him like I did. Sometimes, I thought he was out to get me. He liked hurting people. Whoever left that rat on his doorstep got it right.”

    
“Nancy, listen to me…” Mom tried again.

    
But our caller wouldn’t. Instead, she said she needed to work out some things and that for now the party was on hold, which meant any decorating we were doing would have to wait. Her goodbye was brusque, and she hung up with a sharp click.

    
Well…

    
Before we could begin to assimilate what had just happened, the phone rang again. Bunny Beaumont - compelling case for Caller ID.

    
This time, I let Mom do all the talking.

    
“How may I help you, Bunny?”

    
“Spill it, Amanda.” Bunny was breathless.

    
“Spill what?” Mom looked a little dazed. After all, she hadn’t finished her first cup of coffee yet. I brought over the pot and topped off her cup.

    
“Girlfriend, I know you know what’s going on. That husband of yours must have told you something.”

    
“Could you please be more specific, Girlfriend?” Nobody got under my mother’s skin like Bunny.

    
“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Was Saul murdered right there in front of us? Do the police think Robin or that hunk, Tony Trianos, did it?”

    
“I have absolutely no idea, Bunny. Why would you think I’d know?”

    
“You’re married to a lawyer, aren’t you? Alex must have his ear to the ground.”

    
Mom said nothing, but Bunny was undeterred by the silence.

    
“I think they suspect foul play,” she continued. “I mean why else would Oscar make the police start an investigation?”

    
Desperate for the clarity that only caffeine can bring, Mom clutched at her coffee cup as Bunny prattled on.

    
“I mean they collected all those food and drink samples. Checked all the doors and windows. Why do that if they weren’t suspicious? What did they find out?”

    
This we did know. Food and drink samples had been taken, and Saul’s medication plus any glasses he had touched had been bagged and labeled. Oscar had used his still considerable influence to get the samples tested immediately.

    
Mom wasn’t about to share this information with Bunny, but Dad had heard that preliminary tests showed none of the food and drinks had been tampered with. Saul’s champagne glass and the scotch glass he had used in the study were also clean.

    
Bunny was dying to dish, but Mom wasn’t about to get sucked into idle speculation. After receiving only perfunctory responses, Bunny got the hint, said the dress Mom had worn that night was “cute” and hung up, probably to gather gossip elsewhere.

    
Unbelievable!

    
The rest of the day was four more phone calls, two drop-ins (“I was just driving by and thought I’d poke my head in and say hi.”), and countless questions about what we had heard, what we thought, and what we suspected (“I mean, you found the hand. You were right there.”). The whole town was buzzing about Saul’s death, and there hadn’t even been an autopsy.

    
As for the news coverage, Saul would’ve been disappointed. Two mega-stars had filed for divorce with rumors of infidelity swirling. Because the infidelity involved the wife and the couple’s manny or male nanny, Saul’s death in little ol’ Birmingham, Alabama rated only one short blurb crawling across the bottom of the screen on national news and a couple of brief mentions.

    
Things were a little calmer Tuesday. I actually got some bills paid and some invoices out. I worked with two of my personal training clients, did a little Christmas window-shopping and didn’t call Jacob - a small triumph.

    
On Wednesday everything switched back into high gear when Nancy Browley popped in unannounced at my mother’s house, while we were working on plans for another party we were doing in Arbor Farms.

    
“The party is on, definitely on, unless you think it’s too soon,” she announced to Mom.

    
“No, I…” Mom began, only to be cut off. Would she never learn?

    
“I knew you would agree!” Nancy gushed. “Oscar is sure that if there was any foul play, it was at the hand of that Trianos character. I mean, they say the majority of all crimes are committed by criminals, so it just stands to reason.”

    
Mom cut her eyes at me. We didn’t even try to argue with that logic, not that we were given the chance.

    
“And since Trianos is definitely not invited to our party, I see no reason to postpone. Moping around isn’t going to bring Saul back. Do you agree?”

    
“Mmm.”

    
“Exactly. Thanks for being so supportive, Amanda. Come over anytime to get started.” And then, she was gone.

    My mind reeled as I recognized what this did to our schedule. We were two full days behind on finishing Nancy’s décor - two full days and starting on a third.

    
Mom wasn’t a bit flustered. She could roll with anything and ran upstairs to her office to get the three-ring binder that held everything we needed to know about finishing the Browley house.

    
The downstairs phone rang, and almost against my will, I answered it.

    
It was Dad. “Thought you two would want to know that they finished the autopsy.”

    
He thought wrong about my wanting to know, but I listened anyway. An overdose of digitalis, Saul’s heart medication, was determined to be the COD or cause of death, for those of you who don’t watch cop shows. My mom and I do, so terms like GSR (gun shot residue) or ALS (alternative light source) just roll off our tongue.