Murder a la Christie (The Golden Age of Mystery Book Club Mysteries 1) (29 page)

“Would you say the murders in both books were carefully planned?”

Paulette shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Not like the murder you committed,” I said.

The plate she'd been holding slipped from her trembling fingers. “What did you say?”

“You didn’t plan your murder very carefully. You were furious at Anne for showing up with Lowell at our first meeting, so you poured water from the lilies of the valley into her iced tea.”

“You’re crazy!”

All conversation stopped. All eyes stared at us. Paulette turned her flushed face to me. “I never killed anyone!”

Brian came to stand beside her chair. “I don’t think you meant to, but Mrs. Morris wasn’t in the best of health when she drank Anne Chadwick’s iced tea by mistake. Ms. Chadwick might have survived the toxic water." He smiled. “But then, you took care of her at the next meeting, didn’t you?”

All color drained from Paulette’s face. “I never killed Anne. I swear I didn’t!" She began to sob.

Before any of us could do more than gape, the front door flew open. Adele stormed into the house, angry as a wounded bear. Bob traipsed after her, trying to calm her down. He clutched her arm, but she shook herself free and rushed over to her daughter.

“Paulette, we have to talk!"

Paulette ignored her mother and continued to weep into her hands. Frustrated, Adele shook her by the shoulders. “This is serious, Paulette. Pull yourself together and come with me. We need to speak in private.”

I caught Brian’s eye. He nodded as if to say let it play out. Paulette followed Adele into the hall. When her mother continued to walk towards the bedrooms, Paulette stamped her foot. “We’ll talk here.”

Adele let out a sigh of frustration, but backtracked to where her daughter stood. She put an arm around Paulette’s shoulders as she whispered in her ear. When she was finished, Paulette wriggled free of her mother’s grasp and laughed maniacally. “You’re too much, Mother!” She made no effort to lower her voice. “All my life you’ve drilled it into my head that I’ll always need you because I’m not as clever as the other girls. Only it turns out you’re the stupid one.”

Adele began to tremble. “Paulette, I didn’t mean—”

“I ask you to do one simple thing—get rid of the vase—and you leave it in the trunk of your car.”

Adele’s face turned a ghostly white. “I never dreamed they’d examine my car." Her voice went soft. “Come on, Baby, don’t act like this. We can still set things right.”

Lowell inserted himself between the two women. He shoved Adele away, causing her to stumble. I gasped, as did everyone else.

“Leave my wife alone!" He led Paulette back into the living room, while the rest of us stared transfixed.

Adele followed him. Oblivious of her audience, she yanked on his arm until she had his attention. “Paulette needs me,” she hissed. “I’m the only one who understands her.”

“Why did the police want to examine your car?” Paulette asked her mother.

Adele finally realized a roomful of people, including a police detective, were hanging on to her every word. She drew back her shoulders and, in a cajoling voice, said, “I’ll explain everything later, Paulette, the moment we leave this house.”

“Let me clarify the situation.” Brian joined the small group. “Paulette, the police have impounded your mother’s car to see if the paint matches the damage done to Anne Chadwick’s car when she was driven off the road.”

Paulette gasped. “You did that?”

Brian turned to Adele. “And once the crime scene people check the vase found in the trunk for fingerprints, we’ll have proof that your daughter killed Sylvia Morris.”

Adele laughed, a brittle, jarring sound. “That vase proves nothing. Anyone could have handled it the night Sylvia died.”

“Died?” Brian said, his tone ominous. “Mrs. Morris was murdered. And you happen to be in possession of what the jury will consider evidence that your daughter murdered her. You were in the Gordons’ home that evening. Paulette gave you the vase to dispose of, after she poisoned the wrong person.”

Paulette hugged herself and began to moan.

Brian cut her no slack. “Which meant Anne Chadwick, the woman you hated, was still alive and carrying on with your husband. So you waited until the following meeting and mowed her down with your mother’s car." He laughed. “A really clever move, since we only examined the cars of everyone who’d attended that meeting.”

Paulette looked up at him. “I didn’t kill Anne! I swear it!”

“Of course she didn’t,” Adele said. “I killed them both.”

Silence reigned as we absorbed Adele’s words.

“And you murdered Mrs. Stein?” Brian asked.

“I did,” Adele admitted.

“Why?”

“She saw me pour the poisoned water into a glass and tried to blackmail me.”

“Sure you did, Mrs. Blum. You’re an overprotective mother, but covering for your daughter’s crimes is above and beyond maternal love.”

“It’s true!" Adele’s voice rose to a high soprano. “I stopped by Rosie’s house the night of the first meeting. Hal gave me some sugar, which was what I’d come for, then went back into the den to watch TV. Paulette came into the kitchen, furious at Lowell and Anne for rubbing their affair in her face. He’d had the audacity to drive Anne to Rosie’s, then fawn over her all through dinner. I
had
to do something about it.”

“You couldn’t have,” I pointed out. “You had no idea where anyone was sitting. You never came into the library. I would have seen you if you had.”

“Mom!” Paulette said in anguish. “They know!”

“Then, Mrs. Hartman, you rectified matters after the second meeting by running Ms. Chadwick off the road,” Brian said.

“I didn’t!” Paulette shouted. “I swear I didn’t. I’m glad Anne’s dead, but it wasn’t me who killed her.”

“I’m telling you, I killed Anne!” Adele screeched. “I killed them all!”

Paulette stared at her mother in disbelief. “You really did. I was afraid—”

“Afraid it was your precious husband?” Adele laughed. “Marrying him was a big mistake, Baby. You’d be well rid of him.”

Paulette’s eyes filled with horror. “You tried to kill Lowell the night of the gala! I saw you go up the stairs, but told myself it couldn’t be!" Tears streamed down her face.

I was reminded of her crying in the bathroom that night. Now I knew why she’d been so upset.

Rosie pushed her way past Brian and me to punch her cousin smack on the jaw.

“That’s for nearly killing Ginger!”

Adele had the grace to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Rosie, but your daughter had no business running after my daughter’s husband." She glowered at Lowell and me. “You two were up to something, weren’t you? Someone had to stop Lowell and his philandering ways." She shrugged. “If two of his tramps happened to get hurt from a falling planter, such is life.”

Paulette pulled herself together. With an air of self-possession I’d never have thought her capable, she turned to her mother. “I hate you, Mom. You tried to kill Lowell, and you got him fired. How could you? Your own son-in-law.”

Lowell lunged at Adele. “You sneaky, interfering bitch! Paulette and I would have gotten along just fine if you’d stayed the hell out of our lives! And now you’ve ruined my career as well.”

Brian grabbed Lowell’s arm to stop him from striking Adele.

She let out a sardonic laugh. “It's your own fault, Lowell. If the firm didn’t have good cause, they never would have sent you on your way. Besides, look at all the money you’ve gotten by blackmailing me.”

Brian opened the front door and four police officers entered the house. One moved toward Paulette, a pair of handcuffs in hand.

She edged away from him, whimpering. “Please! You can’t arrest me. I didn’t mean for anything to really happen!”

Lowell drew her close. “Don’t say another word! It’s a bluff. Even with the vase, they haven’t enough evidence to charge you of any crime.”

What kind of a lawyer was he? We’d all heard Paulette’s confession.

Paulette hiccupped, then wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I don’t feel very good.”

I watched, dumbfounded, as Lowell reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to his wife. “Here. Blow.”

Paulette blew her nose and handed the handkerchief back to Lowell. He crammed it in a pocket, then put a protective arm around her. “We’re leaving.”

“What you can do, Mr. Hartman, is hire a good criminal lawyer." Brian nodded, and the officer handcuffed Paulette.

“Paulette Hartman, I’m arresting you for the murder of Sylvia Morris. You have the right to remain silent—”

Paulette’s shriek brought a quick end to the reading of her rights.

Adele glared at Brian. “My daughter didn’t kill anyone! How can you believe she did?”

His response was to declare she was being arrested for two counts of murder and the attempted murder of three people, as another of his men deftly handcuffed her. My other guests were too stunned to utter a sound as mother and daughter were escorted to the squad cars outside. Lowell and Bob Blum hurried to their cars, intent on arriving at the police station in time to offer solace to their wives. I felt sorry for Bob but not for Lowell. He’d played a big role in setting this tragedy into motion. I wished there were legal means to haul him off in handcuffs, as well.

“I’ll call you,” Brian said as he passed me on his way out.

It surprised me that, with all that had happened, my other guests chose to stay and enjoy the rest of the party. I put up coffee and boiled water for tea, while Rosie and Ginger set out desserts on the kitchen table.

I felt numb. The murderers had been caught. The mystery was over. So why didn’t I feel—if not happy, relieved? Al sat me down in a chair by the window and went to get me coffee and dessert. I munched on a brownie as he instructed and felt a bit better.

“Oh, no,” he muttered as Ruth and Marcie headed straight for us. They didn’t look pleased.

“I suppose we should be grateful you exposed the murderers,” Ruth said, “but that they turned out to be our very own friends is difficult to accept.”

I opened my mouth to say I had nothing to do with making them murderers, when Marcie chimed in.

“Paulette and Adele aren’t the murdering kind. They never would have resorted to murder if not for Lowell.”

“Of course not,” her mother agreed. “He was bad news. I knew it the moment we set eyes on him at Paulette’s engagement party.”

Marcie shrugged. “What can you expect from someone with his background.”

Their warped values topped by Marcie’s hypocrisy left me speechless. I stared after them as they wandered off to join their husbands.

“Unbelievable,” I murmured to Al as he put an arm around me.

“They’ll never change.”

He hugged me. “Don’t be despondent. You helped catch the murderers as you said you would." He cocked his head and asked, “Did the Christie novels really help you solve the crimes?”

“Absolutely.”

T
wo weeks later I was stowing the last of my belongings into my car when Brian pulled into the driveway. My heart thumped as he stepped out of his car, looking handsome and fit in sunglasses and a recent haircut. I was pleasantly surprised when he kissed my cheek.

Why my cheek?

“How are you doing, Lexie?”

“I’m fine.”

“I see you’re on the move again.”

I nodded. “Michele’s arriving this afternoon, Eric’s coming tomorrow. They want to sort through Sylvia’s personal things, sell the furniture, and put the house on the market ASAP.”

Brian looked up at the cloudless azure sky. “A lovely day, isn’t it? I always treasure the last days of August.”

“Me, too. I have meetings the end of this week. Classes start on Monday.”

He gave me a shame-faced grin. “I meant to call after you gave your statement, but things got hectic.”

I shrugged.

“Adele Blum’s in the hospital,” he said.

“I know. How does that affect your case?”

“It’s difficult to say. A lot depends on the presiding judge. Adele’s critically ill.”

“And critically lethal,” I added.

Brian laughed. “That, too." He cleared his throat.  “It’s a good thing I caught you today. Where are you moving to?”

Heat rose in my face. “Allistair owns a house two towns away that he rents out. He’s letting me stay there for a nominal fee." My rent was one hundred dollars a month, which he’d only agreed to when I refused to stay there gratis.

Brian shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and gazed into my eyes. “So, are things serious between you two?”

“We’re seeing each other, if that’s what you mean.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s what I figured. Which is probably why I’ve been dragging my heels about calling you.”

A dozen responses came to mind, all of which I longed to blurt out: “I want to see you, too." “You should have called." “I hoped you’d call.”

The least acceptable line popped out of my mouth. “I like you, Brian, but...”

“But?” I shook my head and didn’t answer, so he answered for me. “But you’re a cop. Your hours are irregular. You have no time for a private life. Getting involved with you won’t lead anywhere. Or anywhere good.”

I laughed. “Are you practicing to become a psychic?”

“Did I cover everything?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. But I’d still like to see you.”

He cocked his head and gave me a baleful look. “Are you sure your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“He will mind, but Allistair knows I’m not in any position to commit to a serious relationship.”

Brian thought a minute, then asked, “Are you free Friday night?”

“Rosie’s invited Al and me to dinner. But Sunday’s good.”

He scowled. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”

My heart started thumping. Brian wasn’t the kind of man to take a backseat in any relationship. He was gone. Out of my life.

“Then Sunday it will be." He grinned suddenly, his face lighting up like the sun coming out after a heavy summer rain. “Give me your new address and I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty.  We’ll go out East for the day—unless a homicide comes my way.”

“Sounds good to me."

I held out my hand in a mock shake. Brian took it and pulled me to him. His kiss was brief but set off stars. “Can’t wait till Sunday,” he said.