Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (14 page)

“I think we’ve already established that,” she stated. “From the
way Josie reacted when she found out she was ineligible to collect
on Nussbaum’s life insurance, it’s obvious she and Mattie were running some sort of scam.”

Robert shook his head. “I’m talking about more than just hustling a guy out of a few bucks.”

Marjorie raised an eyebrow. “You think they killed Nussbaum?”

“Would it surprise you if they did?” he countered.

“After finding out that both Alfred and Josie were bigamists, nothing would surprise me. So, what’s your theory?” she tested. “Was Josie
the Lady in White? Or was Saporito one of the two businessmen?”

He shrugged. “Either. Both. Neither. Saporito could have hired
the two men in suits to do the job. Running a nightclub, I’m sure
he knows a lot of shady characters-characters who could obtain
a lethal amount of curare. Same goes for Josie.”

“Or you could be wrong and the woman and two men have
nothing to do with Nussbaum’s murder.”

“Could be. I don’t know.” He shook his head again. “However,
one thing’s for certain. Saporito has a car. There’s no other way he
could have picked up Josie from jail and brought her back to Boston so quickly.”

“Good point,” Marjorie conceded. “Which means that it would
have been easy for him to get to Ridgebury and back, but it also
means that it will be very difficult to check his alibi for yesterday
morning.”

Jameson nodded. “If only we could crack the code on that note
we found in Nussbaum’s pocket.”

“Yes, the note,” Marjorie replied pensively. “Very strange.”
“

I can’t guess what you’re thinking, honey,” Robert prodded.

“I’m thinking that note doesn’t quite add up. What possible
reason could Saporito have had for sending a note to Alfred Nussbaum?”

“Maybe he was arranging to meet Nussbaum at the fair.”

“Fine,” Marjorie allowed, “but why encode it?”

“I’m sure the letter wasn’t strictly an invitation. It probably contained some personal content that Saporito didn’t want prying eyes
to see.”

“Then why put his name and date on it? Why not sign it anonymously?”

“The note could have been meant for Josie and Nussbaum intercepted it,” he offered, approaching the problem from a different
angle.

The young woman still was not satisfied. “Saporito didn’t need
to write to Josie to communicate with her; he could have called her
at the hotel. Nussbaum was a salesman; he was seldom around.
Saporito could have called or even visited at anytime. Furthermore,
even if that note were meant for Josie, and Nussbaum managed to
get hold of it, would he have been able to decipher it? You’ve had
your best men on it for the past twenty-four hours, and not one of
them has been able to make heads nor tails out of it.”

“True,” he acknowledged, “but can you come up with a better
explanation for the note being in his pocket?”

“As of right now, I’m afraid I can’t. There are a dozen possibilities, but none of them seem to fit.”

Jameson put his arm around her shoulders and guided her back
to the drawing room, where Creighton and Vanessa waited. “Don’t
use up all your brain power,” he teased. “You still have a wedding to
plan.”

She smiled distractedly. “A wedding, yes.” Her mind was still speculating the origins of the cryptic note.

“Detective Jameson,” Vanessa said as they entered the drawing
room. “I have that file you requested.” She passed him a green folder containing varying sized sheets of paper. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Jameson took the folder and gave its contents a cursory glance.
“No, this should do it. Thanks for your help.”

“It was no trouble at all, Detective,” she replied graciously. “Now,
if you’re through with business for the day, I’d like to invite you all
to stay for dinner. I’ve instructed my chef to create an absolutely
sumptuous feast.”

Marjorie’s eyes lit up. It wasn’t every day that one had a chance to
dine with such an illustrious hostess. Besides, her repertoire of inexpensive, one-pot meals had grown tiresome as of late. “We’d love to,”
she started to reply, but Jameson spoke up before she had a chance.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid we’re going to have to
turn you down. My folks live here in Boston and they’d be pretty
cross with me if they found out I was in town and didn’t stop by to
see them. Especially since Marjorie and I are engaged and all.”

His fiancee stared at him like a deer caught in someone’s headlights. Did he say parents? Oh no, and me wearing this old dress!

“You’re engaged,” Vanessa exclaimed. “What a delightfully handsome couple you make. Congratulations.”

Marjorie brought her hand up to her hair and began running her
fingers through it self-consciously. God, that was a mess too. “Thank
you. And thank you for your invitation. I hope your chef hasn’t already started cooking.”

“Don’t worry,” Vanessa assured, “he’s a marvel with leftovers. I’m
just sorry I won’t be able to spend more time with Creighton and
his friends.”

“Well there’s no reason Creighton has to come with us,” Jameson
pointed out. “Not that he isn’t welcome, but we do have two cars, so he can drive back to Ridgebury whenever he wants. Not to mention, by the time we finish with my folks, it’ll be late, so it’s probably best Marjorie and I stay in town for the night before heading
back home.”

“You may have something there, Jameson,” Creighton agreed.
“By the time we finish with dinner and enjoy our brandy, I’m not
sure I’ll feel like driving back to Ridgebury. You have several bedrooms in this house, don’t you, Vanessa. Maybe I’ll stay here overnight. Then Marjorie and Jameson can meet us for breakfast in the
morning.”

“That sounds like a perfectly lovely idea!” Vanessa declared. “I’d
love to have a good long visit with you. To catch up on old times.”

The Englishman smiled. “Then maybe I should extend my visit
even more. Perhaps I’ll stay a few days. That is, if you don’t mind
me rattling around the house.”

“Now, you know I don’t mind,” she replied.

Vanessa might not have objected to the idea, but Marjorie did.
What was Creighton thinking, leaving during the middle of a murder case? Couldn’t he see that she needed him? “But Creighton,” she
reminded him, “aren’t you forgetting something? You didn’t bring a
change of clothes. Neither did I, or Robert.”

“That’s all right. I’ll give Arthur a call and have him send over
some of my things. As for you two…”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Jameson spoke up. “I have some things at my parents’ house. My mother may have something you can borrow, dear.
Although she is a lot shorter than you are-”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight, Marjorie?” Vanessa offered.
“I’m a woman and I’ve been married. You don’t want to face your
future in-laws in the morning without the proper attire. I know I wouldn’t have. How mortifying!” She winked in the young writer’s
direction. “Detective, bring Marjorie back here this evening. She
can borrow one of my nightgowns and a robe to wear tonight and,
as for tomorrow, I have a whole dressing table full of cosmetics
and hairdressing items and my housemaid is a wonder with laundry. She can have your entire ensemble cleaned and pressed before
noon. It’ll be fun! As for Creighton, I have a pair of Stewart’s pajamas he can use. The trousers may be a little short, but they’ll be
good enough for one night. And if either of you need anything else,
I’ll have my staff go out and get it for you”

“Thank you, Vanessa.” Creighton smiled at Marjorie. “See? We’re
both in good hands. Go run along and meet your future in-laws.”

Marjorie smiled at Vanessa. She still didn’t feel comfortable leaving Creighton behind, but whatever may have occurred in their past,
Vanessa’s hospitality was beyond question.

Jameson glanced at his watch. “Yeah, we should get going, honey.
My mom always puts supper on the table at six thirty. We want to
get there with plenty of time to spare.”

Marjorie stared blankly at Jameson, trying desperately to find the
words that would make him change his mind and decide to spend
the evening with Vanessa and Creighton. Something that would get
her out of the meeting with his parents and back in familiar territory. She glanced at Vanessa. True, she was generous, but what else
was there about this woman that so enchanted Creighton? Could it be
love?

“Well, don’t dawdle, Marjorie,” Creighton goaded. “Go on. I’ll
talk to you tomorrow morning. Over breakfast.”

“Breakfast,” she repeated as though the word were foreign to
her. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

“Come on. Let’s go,” Jameson took Marjorie by the arm and
led her through the hallway. After the two couples had exchanged
farewells, he walked her to the police car and helped her into the
front passenger seat. As she waited for Robert to walk around to
the driver’s side of the car, she gazed forlornly upon the Randolph
house and the silhouette of Creighton Ashcroft framed in the front
doorway.

Jameson sent the squad car barreling down the Boston roads at
top speed, all the while relating happy tales about his family and
his childhood. “You’re going to love my parents, Marjorie,” he said
proudly.

Marjorie had been listening with only half an ear. “Hmm”

“And they’re going to love you.” He grabbed her hand and kissed
it. “Almost as much as I do.”

“Hmm” Try as she might, she couldn’t tear her thoughts away
from the man they had left behind. “Sweetheart,” she started, deciding to get Robert’s take on the situation, “did you notice anything
different about Creighton today?”

Jameson pulled a face. “Different how?”

“Quiet. Introspective.”

“Yeah, he was a bit subdued.”

“So you noticed it too,” she sighed in relief. “I bet it has something to do with Vanessa. There seems to be a tension between them.
It makes me wonder if they were old flames. Did Creighton tell you
anything when you were alone with him?”

“Why are you so interested?” Robert scowled.

Indeed, why was she so interested? She sidestepped the question.
“You know me, I’m interested in everything.”

“No, Creighton didn’t mention anything about Vanessa. We were
too busy talking about you.”

“Me?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Maybe not you directly,” Jameson amended. “Creighton just
told me that he planned on resigning as your editor.”

“What? Why?” she demanded angrily.

“Because he and I agreed that it would be inappropriate for the
two of you to work together after we’re married.”

“How very nice of you and Creighton to make decisions for me,”
she quipped.

“Now don’t get angry,” he beseeched. “We were just thinking of
your reputation.”

“Damn my reputation! What do I care what people think? The
only opinions that matter to me are yours, Creighton’s, and Mrs.
Patterson’s. Anyway, what’s so inappropriate about Creighton and
I working together?”

“It’s not so much the work, it’s the idea of the two of you alone,
in the house, while I’m not home.”
“

I never thought you were the jealous type, Robert.”

“I’m not jealous, but I’m not crazy about the idea of him hanging around all the time. After all,” he blurted, “the guy is in love with
you.

Marjorie was thunderstruck. “C-Creighton,” she stammered.
“In love with me? That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on, Marjorie! Wake up. Haven’t you noticed the
way he fusses over you? The way he conveniently shows up when ever we’re together? Heck, you can even tell by the way he looks at
you…

Marjorie, feeling as though the earth were swirling about her,
leaned her head back against the seat. Creighton. In love with me. It
can’t be true!

“But that’s in the past,” Robert continued. “We’re together now
and Creighton has given me his word not to interfere.” He reached
over and rubbed her arm. “Besides, what difference does it make if
Creighton resigns as your editor? Once we’re married, you’ll have
other things to occupy your time, such as children.”

Marjorie picked her head up. “Children?”

“Yeah. You want children don’t you?”

“Well, yes…” In reality, she hadn’t given the subject much
thought.

“Good, because you know, I’m kinda used to having a lot of
kids around.”

“Yes, you told me you were one of six.”

“Yeah, and I decided a long time ago that I wanted a big family
of my own one day.”

“What do you mean `big’?” she asked, panic-stricken.

“Oh not six,” he replied reassuringly. “Four would be fine”

“Four?”

“Yeah, well, unless you decide you want more and then we can
negotiate.”

Marjorie was too stunned to argue; she wasn’t yet prepared to
be a mother to one child, let alone four. However, even this crisis
paled in comparison with Jameson’s earlier revelation. She played
the detective’s words over and over again in her head: `Can’t you
see the guy’s in love with you?’

She closed her eyes and hoped that when she reopened them,
she would find herself back in her cozy little house, or Mrs. Patterson’s kitchen. Anywhere, so long as it was away from the cramped
interior of the speeding police car. Yet, she knew her wish would
go ungranted. Opening her eyes and finding that her situation was
unchanged, all she could do was watch mutely the blur of passing buildings outside the passenger side window and listen to the
sound of the tires as they moved over the seams in the pavement,
their rhythmic bumping seeming to chant, “Creighton loves you.
Creighton loves you. Creighton loves you…”