I gasped and jolted back.
He whipped the box out of my sight, holding it behind his back. “You don’t want to see what’s in there.”
“It’s too late,” I said, pressing my hands to my stomach as it roiled and burned with fear. “I saw it.”
Inside the box a dead blackbird lay in stark repose, packed and held in place by lots of crumpled white paper.
“Oh, jeez.” I slumped into a chair as Gabriel searched the box more thoroughly.
“Who brought this to you?” he asked.
“Merrilee found it inside the mailbox.”
He rubbed his jaw with his knuckles. “Merrilee isn’t capable of doing something like this.”
“I don’t think so, either.”
“But almost anyone else in the house is.”
“True. Except for Vinnie and Suzie. And Grace. And, well, I don’t think Kiki is the type to kill a bird and stuff it in a box in the hope of scaring the life out of anyone.”
“No, she isn’t,” he said gruffly. He knelt down on one knee in front of the small coffee table and pulled bits of paper out of the box, studying each piece, then lining them up on the table’s surface.
“Someone is trying to frighten me into leaving,” I said. “They think I’m getting too close to solving Bella’s murder—which I’m not.”
“Maybe not, but that’s what it looks like.”
“But who would do this? It’s not like I’ve interrogated anyone lately. Well, I gave Sybil some grief last night. And there’s always Madge.”
His gaze met mine and he nodded. “She was pissed off enough to kill.”
“Plus, apparently she goes bird watching.” I shook my head. “That probably means nothing. But then there’s Ruth. I think Vinnie and I interrupted her while she was doing something she didn’t want anyone to see. She was carrying a shovel from the conservatory shed and I think there was blood on the tip of it.” I gave him the details of our conversation with Ruth out in the woods.
“Maybe you should take the hint,” he said. “Get out. Go home. You’ll be safer. Hell, Stone would have my ass if you got hurt out here.”
“Derek Stone isn’t here and he hasn’t called either.” I sniffed once, then stiffened my resolve. I pushed myself out of the comfortable chair and began to pace around the room. “Let’s agree not to worry about what Derek Stone will think.”
“Babe.” He stood and stopped me in my path, grabbing both my arms and pulling me into his embrace. It was strictly for comfort, and I was pitifully grateful.
“Besides, the police told us we had to stay.”
“That means nothing if your life is in danger.”
I nodded and rested my cheek against the soft fabric of his denim shirt. Once again, as he’d done on several occasions this week, he stroked my back slowly, rhythmically, as though he were trying to soothe a baby.
“What shall we do with the bird?” I asked finally.
“I’ll take it out to the woods and dump it.”
I eased myself back from him. “I’ll admit I’m afraid. Anyone who would kill a bird to frighten me is a scary, screwed-up person. But I’m not leaving.”
He took hold of my arm and led me back to the chair. I sat again, feeling more tired than ever.
“Look,” he said, sitting on the table in front of my chair. “That bird was frozen and as stiff as a board. It’s probably been dead for days. The killer must’ve found it in the snow and decided to have some fun with it.”
“Some fun,” I said, and shivered.
“All I’m saying is, whoever did this isn’t as desperate or bloodthirsty a character as you think. Screwed up, yes. But this was just an accident of fate. Or convenience, more likely. He stumbled on the bird in the woods and saw it as an easy opportunity to frighten you. That’s all. Whoever it is isn’t a seasoned killer. He’s not very smart, either. If and when we can get the police up here, they’ll take the box and find it littered with fingerprints. Then we’ll nail whoever did it.”
“Well, that’s something.” I gazed up at him. “Thank you, Gabriel. I feel a lot safer having you around here.”
Instead of smiling, he looked more concerned than ever.
“What is it?” I said. “Now what’s wrong? You might as well tell me because I’ll hound you if you don’t.”
“I know, and that’s the only reason I’m showing you this.” He took a breath, then opened the box again and pulled something out of it. “I found this underneath all that paper.” He held up a Ziploc bag. Inside it was some kind of playing card. I looked closer. It was the Tower card from Grace’s tarot deck.
“Chaos,” I whispered.
By the time we sat down to another formal dinner that night, so much snow had fallen that the drifts had started to cover the downstairs windows. We hadn’t lost power yet, but it could happen.
My thoughts were so scattered that I could barely focus on much of anything. But the thought of losing power was scaring me. I wasn’t worried about the possibility of being trapped in the house with a killer, nor did
I really care if we lost the electricity for a while. I didn’t even care if we ran out of food. No, I was scared to death that if Derek tried to call me now, he wouldn’t be able to get through.
Okay, running out of food was a close second.
But the very fact that food wasn’t my prime concern only proved how twisted up I was inside. Maybe the dead bird had pushed me over the edge.
The only good news was that since my little emotional breakdown in front of Gabriel earlier that morning—gosh, it felt like that had happened days ago—I’d been much more successful at hiding my irrational feelings from others. I knew I’d been successful because Vinnie hadn’t seemed concerned about me at all. And Vinnie, more than anyone I knew (except my mother), was highly sensitive to the moods of others. So that’s why I figured I was putting up a good front.
And food was helping, as always. Dinner at Grace’s house was a miracle cure for anyone who needed an emotional pick-me-up. Tonight, as they had done every other night, the kitchen staff served four courses, and one of those was homemade pasta. Color me happy.
I was nibbling at the corners of the delicate ravioli drenched in a delectable sage and butter sauce, listening to Nathan discuss the dire state of college baseball, of all things, when my ears perked up. Someone at the other end of the table was talking about me.
“At least five or six murders,” Suzie was saying. “She’s solved them all.”
“It’s true,” Vinnie said. “We’re all lucky that Brooklyn is here to share her expertise with us.” Her hands were animated as she spoke between bites of pasta and sips of wine. “It’s uncanny how she attracts death! But despite that grisly proclivity, Brooklyn is relentless in her quest for truth.”
“It’s a fact,” Suzie said, waving her wineglass around to make the point.
“Absolutely,” Vinnie said enthusiastically. Then she
lowered her voice, as though she were sharing some gruesome secret with everyone. “Brooklyn deconstructs the mystery, studies the components, the clues, the telltale signs, then bravely confronts the murderer, and justice is served in the end.”
There were actual cheers! Good grief. But among those who approved were several other guests who turned and glared at me.
Oh, dear. I thought we’d talked about dropping that subject after the first night when they’d mentioned it while walking down the stairs. Apparently not.
I grabbed my glass and took a deep slug of wine. This wasn’t happening. Was it? The killer had already targeted me with a dead blackbird. Did he or she need any more motivation to try to get rid of me?
My good friends were
not
doing me a favor, bless their hearts.
“I had no idea you were practically a celebrity,” Nathan said, his eyes warm with interest.
“I’m not,” I said. “My friends are just being, um, kind.”
And I desperately wished they would stop!
I looked across at Vinnie, and Suzie winked at me. I shook my head, hoping Suzie would get the message and change the subject. But instead, she jumped in with her own tale about the time I saved one of our neighbors from the clutches of a crazy killer.
This was not going to end well.
Gabriel was sitting on my side of the table directly across from Vinnie. I thought he might be able to change the subject, so I tilted my head forward to try to catch his eye. But he was smiling indulgently at Suzie’s story and was no help at all.
And that’s when it hit me that this might be a good thing. If we drew the murderer’s attention to me, maybe we could catch him—or her—in the act. I took a bracing breath. This could work.
Nathan leaned closer, “So, you’re saying you’ve never been involved in a murder investigation?”
I turned fast and almost speared him with my fork. Accidentally, that is. I was a little flustered, to say the least. “Um, yes. I’ve been involved in a number of murder cases and I’ve been face-to-face with more than a few desperate criminals. In fact, I have several San Francisco homicide detectives on speed dial.” I almost groaned. Boasting about this stuff didn’t sit well with me. I just hoped I wouldn’t lose my appetite because the ravioli were still calling my name.
“So you were just being modest before?”
“Yes,” I said, then lowered my voice. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s not as if I go looking for murder. It just seems to happen wherever I go and I…hmm.” I happened to glance up and saw that everyone was looking at me now.
Madge looked befuddled. “So let me get this straight. Wherever you go, murder happens? Is that what you’re saying?”
Sybil leaned forward, glaring at me. “Did you ever think it might be a good idea to warn the rest of us?”
“If she had warned you,” Gabriel said loudly, shifting attention away from me, “would that have kept one of you from killing Bella?”
“One of
us
?” Kiki said, and her eyes widened as she gazed around the room. Had it just now occurred to her that we were spending every evening with a murderer? That we were all sleeping in the same house each night? Or that the person who had killed Bella was sitting here at the table with us right now?
“Yeah, one of us,” Marko said, his tone belligerent as he scanned the faces of the guests. “Someone in this room killed Bella. And when I find out who did it…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the threat was clear.
“Oh, my goodness,” Merrilee said, her voice shaky.
“But one of us is missing,” Peter murmured.
I looked at him, then quickly checked around the room. Sure enough, one of the chairs was empty, but I
couldn’t remember who had been sitting there all week. How odd. “You’re right.”
“What? Who’s missing?” Grace stood and looked down the table, then said, “Good heavens. Where’s Stephen?”
I stood and stared at the empty chair, too. Stephen Fowler, Grace’s loathsome lawyer, had many faults, but passing up a free meal was not one of them.
A quick search of his room confirmed that Stephen Fowler was missing.
Six of us volunteered to search the house. Peter took half of the first floor and Nathan took the other half. I went off with Gabriel. It was a sad statement, but I wasn’t about to pair up with either Peter or Nathan. What if one of them was the killer?
Gabriel and I searched Stephen’s third-floor bedroom more closely, then climbed the stairs to the attic. At any other time, I would’ve loved to stop and explore the dark, intriguing room with its old trunks and odd antique furniture, but I was on a mission. I traipsed behind Gabriel up the narrow stairs that led to the rooftop and followed the widow’s walk briskly around the edge of the open space. Stephen Fowler was not in his room, not in the attic, and definitely not on the rooftop. If he had been outside, we would’ve found his body frozen solid.
Suzie and Vinnie searched the second floor, where the majority of bedrooms were located, but there was no Stephen to be found there, either.
Forty minutes later, Peter and Nathan left to join some of the men who were watching a football game in the Knight in Shining Armor Room. A few other guests were gathered at the bar in the game room. Some had gone off to bed. Gabriel, Vinnie, Suzie, and I found Grace commiserating with Ruth in the Gold Salon.
“You didn’t find him?” Grace asked.
“Not yet. Sorry.”
Ruth smiled at me. “The others were sure you’d be the one to find his dead, rotting body.”
“Oh, great.” I shot Vinnie a fulminating scowl. “This is your fault for talking about me like I’m some kind of Hercule Poirot.”
She was undaunted. “I spoke the truth, Brooklyn. You are a marvelous detective. We are lucky to have you on the case.”
Gabriel snorted as I threw my hands up in surrender. “Fine. I just hope the killer takes the bait you laid out.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel said.
“If the killer thinks I’m on the case and is afraid I’m about to nail him, he’ll try to get to me first. And we can catch him in the act.”
“Okay, it’s official,” he said. “I’m locking you in your room.”
I smiled. “Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Grace sat at one end of the gold brocade couch and stared heavenward as though she were seeking forgiveness. “I’m a terrible person. I’ve known Stephen for years and I didn’t even notice he wasn’t in the room.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Aunt Grace,” Suzie said, helping herself to a small glass of Baileys over ice. “None of us noticed, either.”
“But I feel awful.” She took a deep breath and let it go, then looked at us. Her face was a mask of shame. “Do you know, at one point during the first pasta course, I was thinking that dinner was so much more enjoyable tonight. I wasn’t sure why.”
“It did seem more convivial,” Vinnie admitted.
“Yes.” Grace pressed her hands to her cheeks, mortified by her uncharitable thoughts. “Because Stephen wasn’t there.”
Vinnie stood at the side of the couch and rubbed Grace’s shoulder. “We have had many pleasant meals this week despite Stephen’s presence, so don’t beat yourself up over that. But, Grace, why did you ever invite him
here in the first place if you knew how unpleasant he could be?”
Grace stared at the carpet, once more unwilling to make eye contact with any of us.
Suzie squatted down and forced Grace to meet her gaze. “Aunt Grace, what aren’t you telling us?”