Dug to death, p.18
Dug to Death, page 18
Serena was standing in the front door when they arrived and greeted them with a regal nod before turning and walking toward the living room. Tabitha and Vivien followed and were soon seated on the sofa facing their hostess as the latter settled into her padded armchair. With its high arms and curved back, it suddenly struck Vivien as being a bit throne-like, except for the brightly flowered upholstery.
“All right, my dears, what is it today?” Serena began. “I’m a bit tired after yesterday’s protest, so no beating around the bush, please. I’d like to go lie down once we’re done here.”
“Are you feeling all right, Mum?” said Tabitha.
“I’m fine, just not as young as I used to be. At least in body. So, tell me, what’s going on?”
Tabitha was suddenly mute, unable to work out how to challenge her mother, so Vivien took the conversational reins.
“You see, Mrs. Jones, we were just talking with one of the protestors, and he mentioned that Tom told him about going to Malcolm Forbes’s house a few days before the murder and, well, sort of threatening him. ‘Getting in his face’, as he put it.”
Vivien wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to admit it was Liam they’d talked to, although it might have been due to the slight discomfort she still felt in this woman’s presence. She wouldn’t expose anyone else to Serena’s displeasure if she could help it, and she wasn’t sure how Serena felt about the Irishman to begin with. Best to keep personalities out of it.
“And?” Serena barked. “Tom told me about visiting Forbes; he’s been very forthright about it. He hated the man for getting his sister thrown out of her home, but that doesn’t mean he’d kill because of it.”
“I thought you said they gave his sister a fair price for her home?”
Serena glared at her. “I was trying to calm him down. It’s true that the sale was forced, even if the price was fair, and it came at a very bad time for the poor woman. The stress could well have contributed to her early death. But no matter how angry Tom was, he still wouldn’t kill somebody. And he definitely wouldn’t lie to me about where he was.”
Vivien spotted her opening. “Why would he have to? Are you saying that you had to ask him where he was when Forbes was killed? Because he wasn’t with you?”
Serena’s eyes flashed back and forth as she realized her mistake. “No!” she remonstrated. “I just meant he wouldn’t lie to me about anything. Our relationship is based on complete honesty.”
“But even if that’s so, Mrs. Jones, that doesn’t preclude you from lying for him, does it? Did Tom tell you where he was the night of Malcolm Forbes’s murder?”
“And remember,” Tabitha added, “you and I have always had the same promise of honesty in our relationship, so please don’t lie to me now.”
Serena fidgeted uncomfortably in her flowered chair, not meeting either of their eyes for several seconds.
“Oh, Mother,” Tabitha moaned, “you did lie for him, didn’t you? Tom wasn’t home with you when Malcolm was killed, was he?”
Serena crumpled under the disappointment in her daughter’s eyes.
“Fine! Yes, I did…cover for him. But I had good reason.”
The two women looked at her in silence, waiting for her to continue.
“Tom was picking up my engagement ring when Forbes was killed,” she finally admitted.
“Why didn’t he just tell the police that?” asked Vivien. “Surely someone must have seen him or been helping him in whatever store he went to.”
Serena twisted the diamond in question on her finger for several more seconds before responding.
“Well, you see, word gets around here pretty quick. And a certain acquaintance of mine let me know that Tom might not have gone to a regular jewelry shop for my ring. That it might have been acquired through…less traditional means, let us say. So, when the police came round, I told them Tom was with me before he was forced to make up something. With Tom’s record, it wouldn’t have gone well if the police found out he was possibly buying stolen goods, even if he didn’t know it at the time.”
“And Tom didn’t ask why you’d given him a false alibi? He was happy to have you cover for him, was he?” Tabitha’s hands were clenched into fists as she realized the position her mother had put herself in.
But Serena’s look was defiant. “He didn’t need to ask; we both knew he hadn’t murdered anyone. Afterward, he thanked me for my faith in him and said I’d simply saved the police the work of confirming where he was. And he assured me he had indeed been getting the ring, so it didn’t matter what the police thought.”
“But it does matter, Mrs. Jones, doesn’t it?” Vivien said, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice. She didn’t need Serena getting any more defensive. “Because it means no one has checked on Tom’s real alibi, have they?”
Serena raised her head and looked down her broad nose at Vivien. “I’m telling you: he wouldn’t lie to me. If he says that’s what he was doing, then that is the truth. And as you’ll no doubt remember, he gave me the ring a few days later.”
Tabitha nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”
Vivien watched mother and daughter for a moment before replying. “All right, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now, because I happen to know where he got the ring, and you’re right; he probably would have gotten in trouble for it.” She flinched slightly as the other two turned to look at her in surprise. Realizing she’d won the point, Serena’s expression then turned into one resembling a cat digesting an especially tasty canary.
“See. I told you he wouldn’t lie,” she said.
“Hmph,” was Vivien’s only response.
Tabitha threw her friend a worried glance before rising. “Thank you for telling us the truth, Mum. But I do wish you’d trusted me to begin with.”
“I didn’t know it would be such an issue. But then, that was before I knew that Vivien here was determined to play amateur detective. Badly,” she added.
It took every bit of self-control Vivien had to smile sweetly and thank Serena for her time. Once outside, she tried to think of a gentle way to bring up the elephant in the room as they walked back to her car. She finally admitted defeat and fell back onto American bluntness.
“Even if Tom was occupied buying the ring that day, you know he may still have problems if the police find out he purchased stolen goods.”
Tabitha stared straight ahead as they walked. “I can only deal with one crime at a time, Vivien, and murder trumps hypothetically dodgy ring-buying in this instance. Plus, I’ve just discovered my mother lied to protect her boyfriend. And my mother never lies. So, there’s that.”
“What, never?” Vivien winced at the squeak in her voice, wishing, as she so often did, that she took more time to think before speaking.
“No. Oh, she is prone to exaggeration, of course. But lying? And to the police? It was drilled into me as a child that lying is one of the seven deadly sins.”
“Well, it’s not really, though, is it?” Vivien began to count on her fingers. “Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy…oh, what’s the last one? Wait, yes! Pride!” she announced proudly, before glancing over to find her friend glaring at her. Vivien sensed wrath might be forthcoming and acted to forestall it.
“I’m so sorry. You were saying?”
“Mum doesn’t even like little white lies meant to make people feel better. She’s a bit like you in that, which is probably why you rub each other up the wrong way.”
“Ouch,” Vivien murmured. She paused to think. “Tell you what, o’ neighbor mine, I’ll check out Tom’s alibi, and if he was off buying that ring at the time in question, then we’ll say no more about it. No one’s going to admit to me where the thing came from, anyway, rank outsider that I am, but they might be willing to tell me when.”
“How will you find out?”
“I’ll have to rely on the graces of Fred Turnbull again, and don’t think that will be pleasant. I doubt he’s going to be willing to give me information for nothing this time, and who knows what he might demand in return?”
Tabitha giggled. “Best guard your virtue then!”
“Can I just say…eww! I’m pretty sure that’s not on his wish list, thank heavens. But thank you ever so much for putting that hideous image in my mind, it’s going to put me off my lunch. And possibly dinner. For life.”
“How about if we go to The School House?” Tabitha suggested, naming a popular local eatery.
“Mmm, that would be lovely. But much as I’d like to erase the thought of a lecherous Fred from my mind with a couple of their fruity cocktails, I have to meet the electrician at Clive and Archie’s this afternoon, and you have that young man to save, so let’s keep each other on the straight and narrow during our meal, eh?”
“All right, only one cocktail each, then!” Tabitha grinned. “And we’ll split the second one!”
36
“An interior is the natural projection of the soul.”– Coco Chanel
Vivien stood in Archie and Clive’s living/dining space, admiring the work done so far. Maybe it was the Pornstar Martini she’d unwisely imbibed at lunchtime, but the tropical wallpaper in the dining area looked fabulous, and the adjoining living room wall was freshly painted in a burnt orange that matched the highlights in the wallpaper birds. The rooms already felt cozy and warm, and as she watched the electrician wire in the antique copper sconces she’d sourced from France—simple yet beautiful in their Art Nouveau curviness—she sighed with pleasure. It hadn’t been easy to find four of them, but it was worth the trouble as running them down the feature wall from one end of the house to the other would create a sense of space and flow.
Clive approached from the home office and stood beside her as she oversaw the installation. He pointed at one of the sconces already in place.
“They really are gorgeous, aren’t they? You did well to get them for us.”
“Well, it’s somewhat easier when you’ve got a client willing to pay for the best.”
“Yes, Archie likes his material pleasures.”
Vivien turned to look at the once-poor clergyman. “What about you? You haven’t said a lot during this redesign, mostly agreeing with Archie’s preferences. Is it really what you like, or are you just going along to get along? I want this house to be comfortable for you as well.”
“I’m not fussy. You’ve ensured my parrot will be happy, and my fiancé as well. That’s enough to make me happy. Besides, anything is an improvement on Rachel’s icy interiors.”
Vivien smiled at the mention of Archie’s ex-wife. She’d admired the woman’s glamorous style but acknowledged it didn’t suit everyone, especially maybe a middle-aged minister accustomed to living in a bare shack in the woods.
“Yes, I can see that point of view, although…wait! Did you say fiancé?” she yelped.
Clive nodded, his face suffused with a pleasing pink. “Archie proposed last night. We’re thinking of a winter wedding, something simple but elegant, with only our closest friends.”
“That’s amazing! Congratulations!” Vivien impulsively reached over to give him a hug, which was immediately returned.
“I never would have imagined I’d be this happy six months ago, and at least some of that is due to you, Vivien.”
“If only that was all that was due to me,” Vivien said softly, causing Clive to put a hand on her shoulder and wait until she looked up at him.
“None of that horrible business was your fault,” he said. “Bad things happen in the world, try as we might to encourage kindness and empathy.”
Vivien nodded. “Believe me, I’m getting that. Here I am mired in another murder, with an overabundance of suspects.”
Clive smiled as he noticed the electrician trying very hard not to look as if he was listening. He guided Vivien to the sofa as the man moved to the dining room to complete his task.
“Tell me all about it. I assume you’re talking about Malcolm Forbes? The police let Archie know the young archeologist was an accident, since he’d expressed a professional interest in the case.”
“Yup,” Vivien nodded, knowing anything she told Clive would be kept private. “There’s a vengeful ex-wife, a scorned mistress, and more recently, my neighbor’s future stepfather, who resented the victim for kicking his sister out of her home to build one of his profitable estates. Evidently, Forbes wasn’t a very nice fellow. I talked to a woman at the protest yesterday who told me he also ruined her friend’s career.”
One of Clive’s eyebrows quirked as he sat sideways next to her. “Would the woman’s name happen to be Julia Harris, by any chance?”
Now it was Vivien’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, yes. Do you know her?”
“She attends one of the chapels I preach at, and we’ve become friendly. A very interesting lady. What did she tell you about her barrister friend?”
“That she’d been prosecuting a case of theft against Forbes when the victim suddenly withdrew the charges. And that it had affected her badly.”
Clive nodded. “It didn’t just affect the friend, I’m afraid. From what Julia told me, Florence was like a sister to her. It broke her heart when the woman moved to Canada and later died. Julia never got over that loss.”
“You do seem to attract confessions, despite it not being a Methodist convention. But I won’t thank you for adding another suspect to my list.”
“No, that wasn’t the point of me telling you about her. Julia is no killer. I just wanted to illustrate the damage of dwelling in the past too much. It’s good to learn from it, but you can’t let it drag you down so far that happiness becomes out of reach. Believe me, I know what that’s like.”
Vivien leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “Of course you do. And I promise not to wallow in self-recrimination. It doesn’t suit me, and it will hasten the appearance of those deep lines on the bridge of my nose.”
“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? I’m going to make some coffee for Dean here,” he gestured toward the electrician. “Would you like a cup?”
“No thanks. It looks like Dean is almost done, and I have some things I need to attend to at home.”
“I hope one of them is that gorgeous husband of yours.”
“Oh, heavens no, he won’t be back for a while. And besides, he’s taken, mister! You just keep your eyes on your own gorgeous future husband.”
“Oh, I plan to!”
“Baldrick!” screeched the parrot.
Clive grinned at Vivien and shrugged. “Who doesn’t love a bit of Blackadder!”
Despite Clive’s assurances, Vivien felt it was time to catch the police up on the latest information. She called the station and asked for Inspector Fenton Torksey. For some reason, she felt shy about talking to Martin, coming fresh from the knowledge of her relationship with Sara.
The inspector greeted her with a cautiously drawn-out, “Yes, Mizz Brandt?”
“Hello, Inspector, and it’s Vivien, for heaven’s sake, as I’ve mentioned several times. It would be lovely if you would quit treating me like a suspect.”
“It would be lovely for me if you would quit finding bodies, but you can’t always get what you want, can you?” he said.
Vivien pushed away thoughts of The Rolling Stones. “I thought you might like to know that there’s someone else who might have had it in for Mr. Forbes. Miss Julia Harris, ex-barrister, blamed him for ruining the life of a close friend. A friend who died last year.”
“And she waited until now to murder him because…?”
“Maybe the friend’s death triggered her. And then she had to plan and wait for the perfect opportunity. I don’t know, do I? I just thought you might want to get her alibi. I doubt she did it, she’s a quiet-spoken Miss Marple type, but best to be thorough, eh?”
“Indeed, those amateur detective types are always the most dangerous.”
“I thought you’d underst…hey! That was an insult, wasn’t it?”
“Just an observation. But before you go skulking around Miss Harris’s back garden to spy on her through the windows, you should know that we’ve already spoken to her, and she has a solid alibi. She was, in fact, the one who called the police the night your daughter and your neighbor did their little trespassing stunt, so of course we talked to her about Forbes’s murder when we thought there might be a connection.”
“Oh, well, that’s good then. And since we now know there doesn’t seem to be a connection between the two deaths after all, what about Forbes’s ex-wife? She was here recently spouting some pretty vindictive talk about old Malcolm.”
“I see you have been busy making friends and influencing people, Ms. Brandt.”
“Well, you know, to quote The Beach Boys, ‘I get around’.”
“You do indeed. Although I must say, I’m somewhat grateful the people in this town aren’t all California girls if your knack for trouble is indicative of the breed. Nevertheless, I can assure you that the ex-Mrs. Forbes is also in the clear.”
“And what about the mistress?”
“I think that’s enough case talk today, Vivien. You do need to leave this to the police. As you can see, we are on top of it, and we are pursuing multiple leads. Please trust us to do our jobs. But if you do come up with anything useful, I’m sure Detective Sergeant Martin would be glad to take a statement from you.”
“Oh…well…I don’t know…”
Torksey chuckled. “Ah, do I detect some hesitancy about speaking to DS Martin? She told me about dating your stepdaughter. She wanted to make sure it didn’t go against department policy once Miss Wooster was cleared of suspicion. I think she might have also been worried about getting caught up in all the Brandtian drama, but I may be projecting. Still, I hope you don’t think it would affect her professionalism?”
“No, of course I don’t!” Vivien spluttered. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and was grateful she’d used the landline to call, so he couldn’t see her face on video.
