BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3) (10 page)

On Saturday morning, Michael appeared before my desk. He didn’t say anything; he reached in his pocket and slapped down a fifty-dollar bill.

“Alright, wise guy,” he said. “Tell me what I’m missing.”

I picked up the bill, smoothed it, folded it neatly into thirds and slipped it into my wallet.

“Gladly, sir. Did you bring the photos?”

He took out his iPad and placed it on the desk, coming around beside me to observe the screen. Once again, I sorted the photos in the order they were taken, and started with the shots Bergman had taken in the bathroom.

“Here it is,” I said, and tapped the device to enlarge the shot. There, wedged just below the open door, was a small, white button. “I’ll admit, it was hard to spot. If Bergman hadn’t taken pictures of every conceivable space and angle, it might have easily been overlooked.” I paged through a few more images. “Here. This one is from directly overhead. This shot will positively ID the button.”

“Okay,” Michael conceded, “so it’s a button. What’s that prove?”

“Did you find a button when you went through the room?” I asked.

“No.”

“And I’ll bet you another fifty that Jimmy didn’t find it, either. But somebody did and they retrieved it. That’s why you didn’t find it.”

“So whose button was lying on the floor? Charlie’s?”

“I don’t think so. Just before I entered the Hartford House to use the rest room, I passed Fiona. She looked very upset, flustered, but said it was because she was so busy. I noticed that she was missing a button on her blouse and she said it had come loose. Fiona had just left Hartford House. I entered, the bell rang overhead, and Mrs. Hartford appeared at the top of the stairs, telling me to call 9-1-1.”

Michael digested this information. “So Charlie had ordered a bottle of champagne, Fiona went off to take care of the order, and Charlie followed her. She brings up the tray and Charlie’s waiting for her in the room.”

“Charlie, the serial philanderer,” I specified. “After he made the order, the video captures him staring after her once she leaves. At least, I assume that it’s her. Maybe Charlie saw an opportunity to have some fun while his bride was enjoying herself on the dance floor.”

Michael picked up the thread. “Charlie makes an overture, Fiona resists, they struggle and she loses her button in the process.”

“Fiona pushes Charlie away, he moves backwards and trips over the tub,” I added.

“And all the king’s horses and men couldn’t put Charlie together again.”

“Exactly. Of course, that’s speculation,” I noted, “but the button was real. Who would have access to the room once Deputy Jimmy left to retrieve the button?”

“Fiona would have,” Michael deduced. “And that would’ve been before I had my chat with Mrs. Hartford about making the room key unavailable to anyone else.”

“So was it worth fifty bucks?” I asked.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, it could be, but I’m not sure this is the whole story. Fiona might have made those bruises on Charlie’s chest, but I wonder whether her hubby plays a part in this. Maybe he’s the one who pushed Charlie.”

“Plausible,” I admitted. “I guess we won’t know until we find the button and/or the blouse Fiona was wearing and confront her. What if she’s sewn the button back on the blouse?” I asked.

“Please…think positively, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to get a warrant and then Deputy Jimmy and I are going to pay the housekeeper a visit.”

“I wish I could go along,” I shrugged.

“Forget about it. That’s not how we work. Private citizens don’t participate in police interviews.”

“Of course not,” I agreed. “The only reason I said that is because of the variables.”

“Variables?” Michael echoed.

“Yes. Listen, why don’t you go ahead and call about your warrant while I think this through? Then, I’ll explain.”

***

At noon, I locked the library and returned to my desk, waiting for Michael’s call. At 12:02, he called.

“Standing by,” I said.

“Okay. Jimmy and I are pulling into the parking lot at the Hartford House.” Michael’s voice grew fainter. “Did you want to say hi, Jimmy?”

“Hello, Melody,” Jimmy said.

“Hi, Jimmy. Okay, from this point on, I’m a silent partner. If I lose you, I’ll call back, beep you once and then you can speed dial me back.”

“That’s the plan,” Michael said. I could hear the bell ringing as he entered. “Here we go.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hartford. Here’s a warrant issued by Judge Turner authorizing Deputy Lee and myself to search the premises. We’re looking for items that may be related to the death of Charlie Hayes.”

“Of course, Detective Reed. Hello, Jimmy. Please, feel free.”

“I will need to search the living quarters of Fiona Finn.”

“Oh, let me get her. Fiona!” Mrs. Hartford called. “Fiona, could you come downstairs, please? These officers have a search warrant and need to check your quarters.”

I could hear Fiona’s voice in the distance. “A search warrant? Why…what are you searching for?”

“Actually, we’re looking for the blouse you wore the night Charlie Hayes died. It should be a light blue, short-sleeved blouse with white buttons.”

I could hear Fiona unlocking a door and mumbling. “I wore that a week ago. I’m sure it’s been washed and hanging in my closet.”

“I’m sure that you know which blouse you were wearing, ma’am, but if you could gather up every short-sleeved blue blouse, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, Detective,” Fiona said. “Here you are. This is the one.”

“And, please, check your hamper. Just dump the contents on the bed there. Mrs. Hartford, would you show the deputy to the laundry room, just so nothing gets overlooked?”

“Follow me,” Mrs. Hartford said.

There was a lull. As if talking to himself, Michael said, “Well, it appears that all of the buttons are intact.”

That was my cue. I texted a message.

Difference in thread? Spacing?

I heard Michael’s cell beep. He was reading my text.

“Did you recently sew this button, Miss Finn? The thread appears to be bright white, while the others are a duller, bluish white.”

“I-I don’t think so,” she said. Her voice sounded breathless, as if she were starting to hyperventilate.

“Well, I’m no expert, but I know people who are. I’m going to have to take this with me and have it analyzed. I’ll provide a receipt when we’re done.”

“Detective, what is this about? Do I need a lawyer?”

“Do you think you need a lawyer, Fiona? I haven’t asked you any questions other than whether you’d sewn a button on this blouse. It was just a question. Now, when we do get to the interview, I will advise you of your rights, but right now I’m just executing a search warrant. Are you okay, ma’am? You look a little shaky. Would you like to sit down?”

I pictured her nodding, unable to speak. Then Michael spoke again.

“Jimmy, take Fiona into the office. She hasn’t been read her rights yet. Could you do that, please, and maybe get her a drink of water? Mrs. Hartford, I’d like you to stay with me. Now, I’m going to pull off this bedding to make sure nothing accidentally got pushed under the mattress. And now I’m going to go through the dresser drawers and closet, okay?”

I listened to Michael rifle through Fiona’s room for the next five minutes. Apparently, nothing else was found. Then Michael asked Mrs. Hartford to accompany him to the office.

“Have you been read your rights, Ms. Finn?”

“Yes, sir, but I don’t understand what’s going on. Mr. Hayes slipped in the tub. I thought it was an accident.”

“Mr. Hayes was fully clothed, Fiona,” Michael pointed out. “He wasn’t taking a bath. I’m trying to find out how he ended up hitting his head on that wall and dying. And I’m not sure it was an accident.”

“Of course, he wasn’t taking a bath, but he was drinking heavily. Anything can happen when you’re drunk. He could have slipped, you know, and fallen into the tub.”

“Oh, like he might have slipped on some spilled water on the floor?”

There was a pause. “Perhaps,” Fiona said.

“Did you splash that water on the floor, Fiona?”

“No!”

“Did you accidentally spill the water earlier, or did you do it afterwards to make Mr. Hayes’ fall look accidental?”

“I didn’t do anything to Mr. Hayes,” Fiona cried.

“What did Mr. Hayes do to you, Fiona? Did he try to kiss you, to touch you?”

Mrs. Hartford interrupted. “Perhaps you do need a lawyer, Fiona.”

Michael changed tack. “We may need more than one, Mrs. Hartford. You were the one who discovered Mr. Hayes’ body. Did you see Fiona in the room? Did you come to Fiona’s aid when Charlie tried to grab her?”

“Detective Reed, you’re grasping!”

“No, Charlie Hayes was the one grasping as someone pushed him back into that shower. Now I’m trying to find out who did it and why they did it. If it was to fend off an attack, or help someone who was being attacked, just tell me. The law takes those things into consideration, believe me. But we’ve got to know the truth.”

“We have nothing more to say,” Mrs. Hartford sniffed.

“Well, that’s unfortunate for Ms. Finn here. Because we have video placing her seconds away from Charlie’s entrance here, his death and Ms. Finn’s departure. We have photographic evidence of a button ripped from her blouse by Charlie Hayes, as well as proof that the button was retrieved by Ms. Finn to conceal what happened. Fiona, you can’t be both the victim and the executioner. Now which one were you?”

“It was an accident!” Fiona cried out. “He was drunk and he grabbed me when I brought in the champagne. He was going to rape me!”

“Fiona, stop talking!” Mrs. Hartford scolded.

“No, they know too much, but not enough. I didn’t push him!”

“Gordon Haskell?” Michael said.

“Mr. Haskell must have been nearby. He knew Charlie, knew what he’d do. He tried to help me!”

“Did Gordon push Charlie?”

Silence. “That’s all I can say. No more.”

I began typing.

Did Fiona scream? Was there shouting, fighting? What did Mrs. H hear and see?

Michael’s phone chirped with my text. He cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Hartford, you were downstairs, covering the office while all this was going on?”

“Yes.”

“And you came upstairs. You must have heard screams, shouting, pushing around. You were the one who found Charlie’s body, according to your statement to Deputy Lee.”

“Yes?”

“Yet you didn’t see Fiona or Haskell, despite hearing their voices and the struggle.”

Silence.

“In fact, you provided an alibi for Gordon Haskell. You corroborated his claim that he went directly to his room after following Charlie here, and you said he never came out.”

More silence.

“You can’t protect everybody, Mrs. Hartford. Now, who do you want to protect, Fiona or Gordon Haskell? Because one of these people is innocent and one is hiding the truth. Which one?”

“You’re wrong, Detective. Both of them are innocent! I did it!”

“You did what?”

“Mr. Haskell tried to help. He told me Charlie Hayes was a wild man when he drank. We heard the scuffling and Fiona cried out. Gordon went upstairs to intervene. He managed to get Fiona out of his clutches, but Charlie was hitting Gordon. He was in a rage! Gordon fell and Charlie kicked him and somehow lost his balance. I grabbed the champagne bottle and swung it like Babe Ruth, hitting him square in the chest. I just meant to stop him from hurting anyone else. I didn’t mean for him to….”
There was a long pause, and then Michael spoke.

“So the three of you made a pact to keep your silence and hide the truth. Y’know, you all did the right thing. You looked out for each other and teamed up to fight the bad guy. But you should’ve just come clean.”

“Well, I’ll call Traverse City PD and have them bring Gordon Haskell in. Mrs. Hartford, do you have guests staying here?”

Mrs. Hartford sniffled. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Can your groundskeeper handle the guests, or do I need to bring him in, too?”

“Tim didn’t have anything to do with this,” Fiona cried. “I didn’t even tell him what happened.”

“So you lied to him, too?” Michael asked. “Okay, deputy, let’s put Ms. Finn in the car. Mrs. Hartford, do you know where Tim is right now?”

“He’s buying lawn supplies in Alpena.”

“I’ll let you call him while we’re riding.”

“That…that won’t count for my one call, will it?”

“No, ma’am. We start counting when we get you to the station. Mel, I’m going to disconnect you now. Thanks for your help.”

I was stunned. I must have sat in the library alone for a good five minutes, letting the voices I’d heard ricochet around in my head, like some radio crime series from yesteryear. And then, just like that, the show was over.