There is danger when a man throws his tongue
into high gear before he gets his brain a-going.
—C. C. PHELPS
I DIDN’T NEED to look out my window the next morning to know that another storm was brewing. The intense pounding in my head told me that. Trying to avoid all contact with light, I stumbled to the bathroom, where I blindly groped for either the aspirin or my sinus medicine. Finding a bottle, I gulped down several chalky tablets and sank back into the comforting warmth of my bed.
While I waited for the ferocious pressure in my skull to subside, I thought about Aunt Winnie. Although she had tried to hide it, she had taken our disappointing interview with Jackie pretty hard—we all had. On a certain level, we had assumed that given Jackie’s extraordinary ability to know everything about everyone, she would provide a vital piece for our puzzle. I had wanted to keep Detective Stewart’s increased suspicions from Aunt Winnie, but it seemed folly to do so in light of the fact that the reflective tape had been found in her office. It suggested to all three of us that someone was trying to frame her. After I’d gotten back from my meeting with Detective Stewart, Aunt Winnie, Peter, and I had sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and trying to think of who could be behind this. We found ourselves exactly where we had been in the beginning, with a handful of suspects and no real evidence against any one of them.
It was well after midnight when we trudged off to bed, depressed and tired. Our best hope in deflecting the police’s attention away from Aunt Winnie had been the necklace. Unfortunately, this appeared inconsequential to the police in light of Aunt Winnie’s past. We had been left with two absolutes: that the police suspected Aunt Winnie of murdering Gerald, and that the real killer was still out there. It had made for an unsettling night.
When the light no longer made me wince in pain, I gingerly eased myself out of bed. Normally, I loved watching the cool early morning light play across the glossy wood floor, but not today. Today the light merely seemed intent on tormenting me. I dressed sluggishly and crept downstairs to start breakfast. On the stairs, my foot came into contact with something hard. It was Henry’s watch—again. I picked it up and continued down.
Pushing open the kitchen door, grown somehow heavier since last night, I staggered into the kitchen. Peter and Aunt Winnie were busily moving about. “Morning,” I said. At the sound of my voice, which even to my ears sounded like a wounded frog, both of them spun around.
“Jesus!” said Peter. I gathered I didn’t sparkle. He stared at me, mouth open. A forgotten wooden spoon in his hand dripped batter onto the floor.
“Honey?” said Aunt Winnie, coming toward me. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”
“Headache,” I mumbled.
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, rubbing her hand lightly up and down my arm. “I forgot how this kind of weather affects you. No wonder you feel rotten—they’re predicting quite a storm. Here, have a seat.” She gently guided me to one of the toile-covered chairs. The cheerful pattern seemed suddenly garish and loud.
I glanced out the kitchen window. The sky was dark and heavy with low, fat clouds. Paring my speech down to the essentials, I asked, “When?” Aspirin helped some, but the only real relief would come when the storm started.
“Not until this afternoon, I’m afraid,” said Aunt Winnie with real sympathy.
Great. I had several more hours of this to look forward to. Aunt Winnie shoved a cup of coffee in my hand—a bright purple cup that blared in pink letters SASSY, SEXY, AND SEVENTY. I tossed Henry’s watch onto the table and took a grateful sip.
“Why don’t you go back to bed?” she asked. “Peter and I can handle this.”
I took another mouthful of the hot coffee and rubbed my hand across my face. “No,” I said. “I’ll be okay. I think the aspirin is starting to kick in. Besides, didn’t we agree last night that you were going to sleep in and Peter and I would handle breakfast?”
“Thank you,” Peter chimed in with a weary voice. Pointing the wooden spoon accusingly at Aunt Winnie, he said, “I’ve been trying to convince her of that all morning.” More batter dripped onto the wood floor.
Aunt Winnie shook her head. “I remember you two agreeing that I would sleep in. What I don’t remember is my agreeing to it.” She slammed the refrigerator door shut. Sticking her jaw out defiantly, she continued, “What’s the point of running an inn if you don’t run it? This is still my place, thank you very much, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to hide in my room every time something unpleasant happens. I can handle this.”
Her words were strong, but they were belied by her appearance. As debilitating as my headache was, it hadn’t prevented me from noticing the dark circles under her eyes or her pale, pasty complexion.
“Aunt Winnie—” I began.
“No, Elizabeth,” she said, cutting me off. “I know you mean well—that you both mean well,” she amended, turning to Peter, “but I don’t treat you like children and order you back to your rooms.” She stopped and gave me a meaningful look before adding, “Even when you clearly need to be there.” She paused. “All I ask is that you afford me the same respect.”
Peter spoke first. “I’m sorry, Aunt Winnie. You’re right. We didn’t mean to be obnoxious,” he said, the spoon hanging forlornly by his side. Lady Catherine, never far from the food preparations, snaked around his ankles. Her small pink tongue darted out to lick the spilled batter.
“We’re just worried about you,” I added.
“I know,” she said. “But I’m going to be fine. We all will be. Now, Peter, give me that spoon before you make more of a mess of this kitchen and drip batter onto Lady Catherine’s fur.”
I really wanted to believe her, but it’s hard to be optimistic when your head feels like it’s being held together with defective tape.
After cleaning up the batter, the three of us prepped the breakfast. Aunt Winnie put together the cereals, Peter ground the coffee, and I took over the muffins. As I placed a tray of blueberry muffin batter into the oven, I said, “You know, before this weekend, I never really cooked. But I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.”
“Yes,” Peter said, leaning down to change the oven’s setting from broil to bake. “You’re becoming a regular pro.” He winked at me when he said this and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze.
Joan and Henry were already in the reading room when I carried in the breakfast tray. So was Daniel. What surprised me was Polly standing next to him. Her jet-black hair was still pulled back into a tortoiseshell headband, but she had traded in her usual shapeless ankle-length dress for jeans and a black turtleneck. Against so much black, her freshly scrubbed face appeared young and vulnerable. Unconsciously, my own eyes slid to the room’s mirror to seek out my reflection. The vision that stared back at me was anything but dewy fresh. In fact, I looked like something that sucked the life out of dewy fresh things.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” Polly said with a small smile. “I hope you don’t mind me barging in on breakfast, but Daniel and I are running some errands today. We want to get an early start before the storm hits.”
“Not at all. Help yourself,” I said.
Daniel had been staring at me since I’d walked into the room. His expression was not one of admiration. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, as he lifted a muffin from the tray, “but you look like you’ve been dragged through the hedge backward.”
“I have a headache.”
“I’d say the headache was having you,” he offered before walking away. Polly poured herself a cup of coffee and followed.
I was setting everything out when Joan appeared next to me. She was dressed in a fisherman’s sweater and brown corduroy slacks, and her unruly red hair was pulled back into a simple bun. A stranger would be hard-pressed to guess that this refined-looking woman with the delicate features was involved in a murder investigation. But as she peered at me from behind her glasses, I could see that her eyes were worried. What was Joan Anderson’s secret? And how did it relate to Gerald’s murder?
My head was throbbing and I no longer had any patience for subtleties. “I meant to tell you, I found Henry’s watch. I also found a necklace. You didn’t lose one, by chance, did you?”
Joan stared at me, her expression inscrutable. “A necklace? No. But I’m glad that you found Henry’s watch. He’ll be so pleased.”
Henry joined us. “Dear,” Joan said quickly, “Elizabeth found your watch.”
“Really?” he said, turning to me. “That’s good, I’ve been looking all over for it.”
“I left your watch in the kitchen, Mr. Anderson. I’ll get it for you in a minute. I found a necklace, too. But no one seems to know anything about it.” Joan glanced at Henry. He shifted the position of his thick arms several times, first crossing them on his chest, then letting them fall loosely at his sides, and finally holding them behind his back. “Really?” was all he said.
“Yes,” I said, straightening the breakfast items. “I wonder if it could have something to do with Gerald’s murder?” I mused. “I’d better call Detective Stewart.”
I ignored their stunned expressions and walked back to the kitchen. I told Peter and Aunt Winnie what I had done. “Quick,” I said to Peter, “get out there and see if you can overhear anything between them.” Muttering something about a “headstrong idiot,” Peter rushed off in the direction of the reading room.
Aunt Winnie turned to me. “Honey, are you sure you should have done that?”
I rubbed my head. “No. But it’s too late now. I’m going to call Detective Stewart again. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make him listen to me.”
Leaving Aunt Winnie in the kitchen, I shoved Henry’s watch in my pocket and hurried down the hall to the office. As usual, it was a complete mess. Really, the murderer couldn’t have picked a better place to stash the tape, I thought. Given the room’s constant state of disorganization, Aunt Winnie never would have found the tape herself. My mind went back to my first night at the inn. Hadn’t I heard someone in the office? Could that have been the killer planting the tape? I made a mental note to tell Detective Stewart. As I rummaged through the desk for his phone number, I heard the front door open. Wondering who it could be, I stuck my head out of the office. It was Jackie.
She was certainly dressed for the cold weather. An enormous blue wool hat decorated with tiny white snowflakes covered her head. The little bit of her face not covered by the hat was swallowed up by a giant red-and-white scarf that had to be one of her knitting creations. It was mammoth. I could see why Linnet thought the one given to her was meant to be a shawl.
Jackie looked around the empty foyer with an unsure expression and walked by the office before she saw me. “Elizabeth!” she cried out, turning to face me. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”
“Why?” I asked, coming out of the office. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve remembered! I told you it would come to me and it did! Just as I was falling asleep last night it came to me. The lights! It was the lights!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“The lights?” I repeated. “I don’t understand. What about the lights?”
She shook her head in exasperation. “Oh, never mind. I must talk to Detective Stewart. I’ve been calling him all morning, but I can’t get through. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the man was deliberately ducking my calls.”
Luckily, she didn’t expect me to refute this; I doubt I could have done it with a straight face. She kept talking, her voice excited. “But then I remembered you!”
“Me?” I said, confused. “Why me?”
“Because you’re working with Detective Stewart and you’ll know how to get in touch with him!”
Behind her the Andersons and Daniel and Polly came to the door of the reading room. Seeing Jackie, they paused, their expressions curious.
“But I’m not working with him—” I began.
Jackie waved away my protestations with a gloved hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your secret is safe with me. But I have to get in touch with him. I must tell him. Once he hears me out, he’ll understand. I’d drive over to the station myself, but I’ve got to get back to the house now. I promised Linnet that I’d find her contacts before I met her at the club for lunch—although truth be told, I have no idea where they could be. But I’ll turn that house inside out if I have to because Linnet will be furious with me if she has to wear her glasses at the club. Oh, I can’t wait to tell her about the murder,” she said with a smile. “She’ll be so surprised! It’s not who we originally thought it was at all!”
“But I don’t understand,” I said. My headache or the medicine had slowed down my thought process dramatically. “What am I supposed to tell Detective Stewart?”
Jackie let out a frustrated sigh. “Why, I thought that was obvious!” she said. “I know who did it! I know who the killer is!”
At the reading room doorway, a coffee cup crashed to the floor. Jackie whirled around suddenly. Realizing for the first time that she had an audience, she gave a startled gasp. Joan and Henry stood just outside the doorway. Polly was bending down to pick up the pieces of the shattered cup. Next to her was Daniel, with an inscrutable expression.
I couldn’t see Jackie’s face. Was she staring at someone in particular? When she turned back to me, her complexion was ashen. The snowflakes on her hat trembled as she said in a shaky voice, “I can’t say any more now. I didn’t realize … Just have him call me or come by the house. I’ll be there for a few hours.” Her lower lip quivered and she added in a harsh whisper, “Linnet’s right. I am a silly old fool.”
Without another word she scurried out, slamming the door behind her. I stared at the group frozen in the doorway. They stared back at me.