Murder in March Read online

  "I know you're worried about Mr. Boudreaux. If I think of anything else, I'll give you a call."

  Janey and I exchanged numbers and I told her I'd call her regardless and set up a good time for lunch. By the time she got into her car and drove off waving, she was back in good spirits.

  I was glad Detective Logan was being thorough in his investigation but since I hadn't known about him interviewing that particular man, there were probably a lot of other things I didn't know. The police station wasn't far away and since I hadn't heard from either Sam or Mark yet, I decided to make that my next stop.

  Despite the slow stroll, I still got there in under ten minutes and was just passing one of the large, newly greening trees when Detective Logan and Mark appeared alongside a beautiful, young woman. I stopped in my tracks, watching the woman toss her poker-straight, glossy, brown hair as she leaned into Mark and he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  A sick feeling climbed up my throat as I watched the natural smiles they gave each other. Mark said something and the woman laughed, smiling broadly at both men, and then the three of them shook hands. Detective Logan remained on the sidewalk as the pair climbed into an executive car and pulled away, zipping past me.

  Why didn't I realize Mark had a girlfriend? I suspected it, of course. Smart, handsome, successful, kind... he must have been a catch in the city and this woman was the lucky one to have reeled him in. His attention to me was no more than him being nice. He needed my help while in town and my manuscript for his firm. Of course, it couldn't have been anything more. The delightful moments we shared were no more than a badly interpreted event. I felt so silly!

  Detective Logan had already turned and walked inside while I remained rooted to the spot. I turned around and forced myself to walk away. I could hardly enter now and inquire about Mark's wellbeing or the status of the case.

  The case! I had Mark's suitcase and his laptop! Of course he'd want them back. I would call him later, arrange where I could drop them off and that would be it. I would maintain a polite, professional relationship with him, and once my contract was completed, I wouldn't have to see him again. He would never know about my silly, little crush on him, or how flattened I felt after seeing him with his girlfriend.

  I walked quickly and angrily, blaming my foolish heart for making me think that Mark and I had any further connection than the professional one. He was just being polite when he complimented my appearance. And his offer to join him in the city for a change of scenery was really nothing more than professional courtesy to ensure I turned in a good book.

  Before I knew it, my tired feet had brought me to my mother's house. Her car was in the driveway so she must have returned from her trip. I jogged along the path and knocked on the door, standing back as I waited. When my mother appeared, her red hair tucked behind her ears, she took one look at me and ushered me inside. "What's wrong?" she asked instantly in that motherly way of knowing something was wrong. "Why are you so pale?"

  "Everything," I muttered.

  Mom tipped her head to one side and fixed me with big, green eyes. "Did your beautiful house burn down?" she asked.

  I frowned. "No."

  "Did your glamorous car get stolen?"

  "No."

  "Purrdie get run over?"

  "No!"

  "I can't think of anyone ill or dying, so it can't be that bad. Perspective, sweetie," said Mom. She gave me a hug, then stood back, rubbing my arms. "Is it a boy?" she asked me in the same way she did back in high school. I couldn't work boys out back then either.

  "Esther's dead, people are going to realize I'm Miranda Marchmont, and I don't know what to do," I wailed.

  "I know. Your dad filled me in last night. It's terrible what happened. Why didn't you call me?"

  "You were on vacation."

  "Like that matters. And my reply is: would it really be that bad? And you'll figure it out. In that order," said Mom. She led me into the kitchen and instructed me to get two drinking glasses while she reached for the pitcher of iced tea she kept in the refrigerator. She poured us two glasses while I told her about the investigation, resolutely avoiding any mention of Mark.

  "I don't know how to find this Jake Jackman without going back to the hotel and I really need to speak to him," I finished.

  "Now that is something I can help with," said Mom. "He lives right next door."

  Chapter Sixteen

  According to my mom, Jake wasn't due home for another hour since he'd gone out with his parents somewhere. I recalled the family moving in only a year or two ago, but my mom and stepdad had quickly become friendly with them.

  While I waited, I became anxious to find out if Jake had any information that could point to Esther's mysterious adversary. It felt good to sit and chat with my mother. She was eager to tell me about all the gossip floating around town about me. Well, not necessarily me, but the other me, Miranda.

  "Everyone is dying to know your true identity and it's so hard to keep it quiet," Mom continued after telling me about her run-in with the Calendar Ladies' Book Club. Apparently, they agreed my latest novel would be their next read and there was some talk about persuading me to break my media silence and attend. "If only they knew!"

  "I hope you aren't tempted to drop any hints."

  "None, but it's a lot of fun listening to their theories. Someone even suggested it was Jaclyn Henry's double life."

  "Jaclyn from the Coffee Corner Café?" I raised my eyebrows.

  "Jaclyn thought it was very funny, and she asked why would she get up during the wee hours to open up in the morning if she didn't have to?"

  "She has a point."

  "Maria Jenkins said her daughter, Soulla, knew but Soulla was sworn to secrecy."

  "Soulla? Oh, please! She would be the last person I’d tell!"

  "I thought so. She still that same mean girl from high school?"

  "Even worse because she should know better now."

  "Jeanne McKellar said it was probably old Mrs. Kowalski and wouldn't that be a hoot?"

  "Mrs Kowalski? Is she crazy?"

  "It's just another theory. Speaking of Jeanne McKellar, I might hire her to give both the front and back yards an overhaul. Since Tom installed the new patio last year and the arbor at the end of the yard, I've been considering entering the summer gardens tour. What do you think?"

  "I think it's a great idea! I'm not even sure that you need to hire Jeanne. You already have so many pretty plants."

  "But she would bring that little bit extra. Wouldn't it be exciting to win? You should enter too. People love touring the Victorian gardens."

  "I don't have a single green finger," I reminded her. "I'm lucky that none of the plants and trees have died from my neglect; but I might ask Jeanne to take a look and give me some ideas, or even better, do all the work. It was fun to decorate for the Halloween Gardens Tour even if I didn't win last year."

  "The Andersons' display was very good but if we plan ahead, we might have a shot at the title."

  "Really?"

  "No, but it's nice to dream. Have you been to Sparkes’ Bookshop recently?" Mom asked, deftly changing the subject. "Mr. Sparkes’ granddaughter took over."

  "I met her. She's nice."

  "She is, and so enthusiastic. Did you know she's going to start putting together a program of authors for readings, signings and workshops? Doesn't that sound fun? She offered to host a get-together for the book club too. You should come along."

  "Not if they're reading my book next!" The sound of a car pulling up, then doors opening and closing, made me get up and wander over to the window. I recognized my mom's neighbors and the young man with them had to be Jake. With his cropped blond hair and lanky frame, he looked vaguely familiar. I'd probably seen him at the hotel without knowing who he was before I spotted him on the digital footage. "Could you imagine Jake killing someone?" I asked as I watched the young man helping to unload some grocery bags and carry them into the house.

  "Jake? No!
He's very sweet. He's been a blessing to Lucie since she had that fall and injured her shoulder."

  "You've never heard him shouting at her or getting mad?"

  "No, except that one time when he caught a dog relieving itself on his new bike. He called it some fruity words, including one I never even heard before!"

  I decided that sounded very normal to me. "I'm going to head next door and speak to him."

  "Take a box of cookies from the counter. I over baked yesterday and I know Lucie loves them."

  I grabbed the box of cookies while my mom decided to phone Jeanne McKellar for her gardening advice. I let myself out of the house and jogged over to the Jackman property and knocked on the door. A petite woman in her late forties answered.

  "Hi, it's Ava, isn't it?" she asked, smiling. "I would recognize that lovely, red hair anywhere. Is your mom okay? Did she just get back from her trip?"

  "Mom's fine, thank you, Mrs. Jackman. She asked me to bring you these cookies. She said you like them."

  "Oh, I do. Thank you. Come on in and please, call me Lucie." Lucie opened the door wider and beckoned me in. "That's very thoughtful of Amanda. Your mom and Tom have been such a help to me. Did she tell you I had a fall?"

  I followed Lucie through the hallway into an old, pine kitchen that had seen better days. Frilly curtains hung across the window and dozens of little tchotchkes were dotted all around. It was too fussy for my taste but Lucie clearly delighted in her possessions. "She said you hurt your shoulder. How did it happen?" I asked.

  "I slipped in the rain. Just one of those unlucky things. I'm still having trouble lifting and driving is a little painful, so thank goodness for my husband and son."

  "Your son works at the Maple Tree Hotel, doesn't he? I've seen him there."

  "Yes, that's right. Just part time to help pay for school. Oh, that was your friend who was killed, wasn't it? That poor lady. Jake was pretty shaken up about it."

  "Yes, she was a friend. Would you mind if I asked Jake a couple of questions?"

  "Ask me anything," said a male voice behind me. I turned quickly, finding Jake standing in the doorway. I hadn't heard him approach and his voice made me jump. He was a lot taller than his petite mother at over six feet but he hadn't filled out yet. His frame was still boyishly skinny yet his voice was deep. I wondered if he perfected the silent approach as part of his job as a bellhop.

  "I'm Ava March," I told him. "You met my colleagues, Esther Drummond and Mark Boudreaux. They were staying at the Maple Tree Hotel."

  "Esther is Mrs. Drummond? I mean, was Mrs. Drummond," he clarified.

  Was it my imagination or was that a guilty, little gulp?

  "Yes, that's right. And you might know Mark as Mr. Boudreaux."

  "Yeah, nice guy. Tipped well," said Jake, nodding.

  "I'm trying to piece together what happened to Esther and I understand she wasn't very nice to some of the hotel employees. Do you know anything about that?"

  Jake crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "She wasn't very polite to anyone but a lot of guests aren't. We're trained not to take it personally."

  "It must get annoying?"

  He shrugged. "Not really. I'm only there a few hours a week and I know how to compartmentalize very well."

  I hadn't expected Jake to sound so chilled out. If he were anymore laid back, he’d probably have fallen over. "I'm very sorry Esther was rude to you and you're right not to take it personally," I told him. "I've worked with her a long time and she wasn't singling you out."

  "I'm sorry she was killed but I'm not sure how I can help you. I don't interact with the guests very much."

  "She had an argument with someone around five o'clock on the day she was killed in the employee stairwell. Do you know who that person could be? I'm worried she might have offended someone who did take it personally."

  "Hmm, I do remember hearing her yelling at someone. I had to take a shortcut that way. I had to drop off some binders in Dina's office that she left in the Garden restaurant. Mrs. Drummond sounded really..."

  "Mad?" I supplied when Jake broke off and frowned, struggling for the right word.

  He shook his head. "Sneering," he settled on. "She said something about being a loser and I thought 'uh-oh' and left. I had plenty of work to do so I didn't want to get tangled up in whatever was going on."

  "Did you happen to see the person she was talking to?"

  "No, I saw Janey from the front desk, and one of the chefs, Tim, leave. We were all on the first floor. It couldn't have been them but they might know who Mrs. Drummond spoke with."

  "Could it have been a man or a woman?" I asked, thinking about the other people there that time.

  "I don't know. Whoever it was didn't shout back at her but I think they might have pushed Mrs. Drummond or something."

  "What made you think that?"

  "There was a horrible grunting noise and a bang, like something heavy had fallen, and Mrs. Drummond yelled, 'You're going to pay for that! I'm going to tell' before she stomped off."

  "Did you see anyone else above you in the stairwell?"

  "No, like I said, just Janey and Tim. I wasn't looking up though."

  "Later on, you delivered Esther's room service. Is that right?"

  "I did. I stayed on to help out."

  "Was anyone with Esther then?"

  "No, she was all alone. I know that for sure because I carried her tray inside and set it on the table. The bathroom door was open so I could see no one was in there either. She tipped me a whole buck and said if I wanted more I should have been faster. Then she laid into me about something or other, which was kind of harsh. I thought I would have been faster if I could have zapped the food with my eyes and then teleported into her room but I didn't say it. She even told me I might be hot one day then she yelled at me again." Jake rolled his eyes.

  I held back a laugh. I almost wished Jake had said that. Sometimes, Esther could have used a bitter taste of her own medicine.

  Jake looked at me and his face fell. "I didn't mean to sound rude."

  "No, that's fine, you weren't. What you thought was pretty funny and you remained polite even though she was rude to you. You should be proud of your self-restraint," I told him. "Did you see anyone else near her room when you left after delivering her order?"

  "No, the corridor was empty. I picked up a couple of empty trays and went back downstairs."

  "Jake told Detective Logan all of this," Lucie chipped in. "He felt bad about what happened to that lady, despite how rude she was, but he wouldn't have hurt her if that's what you think."

  "I don't think that at all," I told her and I meant my words. Jake was too relaxed to be a killer. He didn't embellish his story in any way and he wasn't on his guard at all. "I really appreciate you helping me find out what really happened to my friend. Thanks for filling in a few blanks. Enjoy the cookies," I told them both. I could have questioned him some more but I was glad to leave and walk back to my mother's. I didn't want to upset my mom's neighbors and Jake seemed like a good kid who just happened to cross paths with Esther.

  Unfortunately, he hadn't seen or heard much. I wondered if Dina Preston might have seen more. I also wondered how I might persuade her to introduce me to the stealing guest. He probably wouldn't admit what he was doing in the stairwell, but he might have seen something that he hadn't yet come forward about, especially since he was already up to no good. Perhaps Esther caught him stealing? That would explain her comments about a “sad loser” and “telling” on him. Jake made another good point. He hadn't looked up. Could someone else have been in that stairwell? Someone that hadn't been picked up on the tape?

  "Did you get what you wanted?" asked Mom when I walked back into the house. She had just placed the cordless handset down and was making a few notes on a notepad.

  "Yes, but he wasn't able to help very much. I don't think he saw or heard anything important about Esther."

  "I'm sure he would have told the police if he had. He's a
nice boy."

  "I agree. He didn't seem at all worried that Esther gave him such a hard time."

  "I hope you told him she gave everyone a hard time."

  "Even you," I reminded her. "Remember when you came to the city with me?"

  "Yes, and she asked you what swamp you'd dragged the hick from." Mom rolled her eyes. "Such a sweet way with words."

  "I still feel guilty about that."

  "Oh, don't. Your guilt treated me to a lovely dinner, a night at the theater, and a beautiful hotel suite. I had a terrific time." Mom patted the couch cushion and I sat next to her. "I really don't know why you insist on hiding whom you are. Everyone will be pleased to learn that you're Miranda Marchmont."

  I sighed. "They'll be disappointed."

  "They will not! You're too hard on yourself."

  "Has anyone suggested I might be the secret author?"

  Mom wrinkled her nose. "Well, no."

  "I rest my case! I'm the last on the list to be considered the glamorous, secretive author. Even Mrs Kowalski was suggested before me!"

  "Only because everyone believes your virtual assistant ruse. Think of all the good it will do for Calendar if you told everyone."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you could do a book signing at Sparkes’ and everyone will flock to it. You could do a reading too and be a guest speaker at the book club."

  "You just want me at the book club really," I teased. "I would be your coup."

  Mom laughed. "It wouldn't hurt. Emily Hanson would be green with envy."

  "You and Emily have been friends forever."

  "It doesn't mean I don't like to win occasionally. Anyway, you don't have to worry. It's not my secret to tell. I've kept it for this many years, I'm sure I can keep it for a few more."

  "I might retire," I told her. "I have one book still to write in my contract. Esther hated the last one I sent in, you know, but my publisher, Mark, thinks we can work on it. Then after that, I only have to write one more. I think I'm done with writing romances." I successfully avoided thinking about Mark until then. The image of him getting into the car with the gorgeous woman hit me like a punch in the gut and caused a painful pang of sadness. The idea of working closely with him was exciting, but perhaps not such a good idea now.