Death Takes a Holiday
Read Death Takes a Holiday Online
Authors: Elisabeth Crabtree
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Animals, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
Death Takes a Holiday
(A Grace Holliday Cozy Mystery)
Elisabeth Crabtree
C
opyright © 2013 by Elisabeth Crabtree
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.
First Printing, June 2013
v. 9
.22.13
Book cover designed by Susan Coils at
www.coverkicks.com/
Illustrations:
Bigstock.com
Author’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and situations are completely fictional and a work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Other books in the Grace Holliday Series
Murder Games
(Coming Soon)
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
New Year’s Eve
December 31
st
“Is he dead?”
Robert Kirby’s calm brown eyes sought out Steve Mattingly. It was a simple request. Not the painful raw entreaty one expects from a grieving son, but a simple direct request for information.
Shrugging, Steve
knelt down next to Victor Kirby’s body lying on the floor of his opulent master bedroom. He felt along the old man’s neck, unnerved by the unblinking brown eyes that continued to stare passed his shoulder.
No pulse. Not even a flutter.
Standing, Steve
threw a brief questioning glance at Asa Wellington, his employer—former employer, Steve amended sadly to himself.
Feeling his face burn, Steve
quickly looked down at his feet. He backed up until he was standing against the wall, wincing when the movement caused his shoulder to throb painfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Michaels take a step toward him. He gently shook his head and waited for Wellington to take over. To his surprise, the old detective seemed to be in no rush to begin.
Casually dropping
the brocade curtain he had been inspecting, Wellington slowly strolled toward the body, stopping periodically to stare at a piece of furniture or a speck of lint on the carpet. He had just begun to examine the inhaler lying next to the body when the deceased’s nephew, Jack, reached out and grabbed his arm. Wellington looked at the young man expectantly.
“I’m sorry
. So sorry,” Jack said in a rush before shaking his head and running out of the room.
Wellington
stared after him for a moment before finally walking the rest of the way to the lifeless body lying on the floor. Victor’s wife and two sons crowded around him as he did the perfunctory checks for life. “I’m afraid he is, Mr. Kirby. And has been for at least a couple of hours I would guess.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through the room.
Robert Kir
by nodded once before giving his stepmother an accusatory look.
“Michaels,”
Wellington said, “call the authorities.”
Michaels pulled out a c
ell phone and walked out of the room.
“Who killed him?” Felicity asked breathlessly.
Asa Wellington sat back on his heels and considered the newly widowed woman carefully. “What makes you think he was murdered?”
Felicity
’s heavily made-up lids blinked furiously as she glanced from her two stepsons to the detective kneeling next to her husband’s body. “Well, I just thought—”
“Thought what, Felicity?” Robert
asked coolly.
Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“What do you think I mean?” Robert snapped.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that
,” Felicity said. “
I
certainly didn’t kill him.
I’m
the one who almost died a few days ago in that fire.
I’m
the one who’s in danger.”
Robert
pointed to his father’s body. “Then why is he the one on the floor?”
Felicity smi
led sweetly. “Because everyone, including you, hated him.”
“Some of us more than others,” Robert countered.
“Knock it off, Robbie,” Lucas Kirby said testily as he crawled onto his father’s king-sized bed. Lying on his stomach, he looked over the edge of the bed and stared at his father’s body dispassionately. “Step-mummy’s only saying what we’re all thinking.”
Felicity glared at her
stepson. “Would you please stop calling me that?”
Smiling, Lucas rolled over and propped himself against the headboard
. “So, which one of you did it?”
“Us?” Felicity sputtered. “If it was anyone it was you.”
Lucas grinned. “Why would I kill him?”
Felicity
gestured toward the hallway. “For your fiancée.” Placing her hands on her hips, she walked past the broken door barely hanging on its hinges. “Parker,” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Get in here!” She glanced over her shoulder and back at Lucas. “For your inheritance, Lucas. We all know how much you need the money.” She walked the rest of the way into the hallway, her high-heel shoes clicking against the marble floor. “Parker, come in here right now!”
“Oh, I wondered when that was going to be brought up.” Lucas picked up the crystal glass
sitting on his father’s nightstand. Bringing it up to his lips, he said, “I’m not the only one who expects to inherit.”
Making a guttural sound, Felicity stormed back into the room.
Hopping over her husband’s body, she yanked the glass out of Lucas’ hand and threw it across the room.
Lucas looked at her in shock. “What
is wrong with you?”
Felicity, chest heaving under her tight pink lace dress, took a couple of deep breaths. “
You . . . ,” she said breathing hard. “You shouldn’t go around accusing people. It’s not nice.”
“Oh, well,
” Lucas said with mock concern, “I wouldn’t want to be accused of not being nice.”
“You bellowed,
Ma’am,” Parker said from the bedroom door. Scowling, he adjusted the sling around his arm.
Felicity carefully navigated her way around the body
and hurried over to the young man at the door. “Where have you been?”
Parker
having just noticed Victor Kirby lying on the floor looked at Felicity and shook his head. “Again?”
Felicity
grabbed his uninjured arm and spun him around before dragging him into the hallway away from the others.
Lucas, still propped against the
headboard, glanced at Wellington who was staring at the inhaler lying next to the body. “So, what’s your theory?”
Using the
nightstand for support, Wellington stood gingerly. He briefly rubbed his knee before clasping his hands behind his back. “I think it’s a bit too early—”
Lucas snorted. “Nonsense.
You must have a theory.”
Wellington
paused and took a deep breath. He raised his chin slightly. “Your father was not a healthy man.”
Lucas
chuckled. “Evil is like that. It tends to rot the guts. But it also has an oddly preserving effect, too. I thought for sure he would have lived another twenty years.”
Robert knelt next to his father’s body. “Lucas
, I wish you would shut up. No one killed him.” He reached down and picked up the inhaler off the floor. He examined it tentatively. “It must have been empty.”
Lucas pulled open the nightstand drawer and tossed three other inhalers onto the bed. “Were all of these empty, too?” He glanced at the broken
crystal glass on the floor and the stain saturating the carpet and grinned. “Oh well, you’re probably right, Robbie. Father was an awfully sick old man. I wouldn’t worry; you’re friends with all the right people. I’m sure you can make this go away.”
“
Shut up, Lucas,” Robert said. “Unlike you, I always got along with Father.”
“Oh, do you want to compare motives?” Lucas asked cheerfully.
“No, there’s no point,” Robert answered. “After all, you don’t have a motive anymore. If you had killed him this morning, then you might have had one, but now . . . ,” he said, letting the sentence trail off.
Lucas
’ smile grew strained. “What do you mean by that?”
“
Didn’t you wonder what Father’s lawyer was doing here this morning?” Robert asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the bedroom wall. He sadly shook his head. “No, of course you didn’t. You were too busy dealing with your fiancée. Ex-fiancée,” he amended quickly.
Suddenly wary, the grin on Lucas’ face fell. “What are you talking about
, Robbie?”
“Why don’t
I show you?” Robert tossed the inhaler he had picked up onto the bed with the others before turning toward the bedroom door. “You’re welcome to come, Mr. Wellington. This concerns you, too,” he threw over his shoulder.
Steve was surprised to see a flash of worry, or perhaps it was concern, pass over Wellington’s face. With a shake of his head, the older detective’s expression hardened. He spared a glance at Lucas before turning and following Robert Kirby out of the room.
Still standing against the wall, Steve watched as Lucas picked up the inhalers. “You shouldn’t mess with those. This could be a crime scene.”
Ignoring him, Lucas dropped the inhalers into the nightstand drawer before shoving his hands into his pockets and strolling to the door. “I doubt it will be an issue. After all, the
real
detective didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”
Steve
bowed his head. He briefly considered following the others out of the room, but shame kept him rooted to the spot. He glanced toward the window and shivered. Snow was piling up on the windowsill. What a horrible night, he thought morosely. And the day had started out so well. Just a quick drive up to the Kirby’s, give Victor his report and then back down the mountain with enough time to go out and ring in the new year with some lovely lady.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes, replaying the day’s events across his mind. If only he hadn’t let Victor
Kirby intimidate him.
He brought his hand down and leaned his head against the back of the wall, blinking back the sudden moisture in his eyes. If only he hadn’t been trying to show off in front of the trainee.
Irritated with himself, he shook his head. He was too good of a detective. He knew that with every fiber of his being, but it didn’t matter now. Wellington would have nothing to do with him
. And once Wellington dismissed him, no other detective agency would touch him. All he could hope for was to raise enough money to open his own office and begin again. Steve felt a bit of his innate self-confidence return as he fantasized about building his own agency from the ground up.
Just as he reached the point where Wellington was begging him to come back, a sound to his right brought his attention back to the present.
He watched as Victor’s nephew, Jack, reentered the room and creep up to the body cautiously as if he expected Victor to suddenly awaken and catch him. He gazed down at his uncle in a curious wonder. A little giggle escaped his lips. “I told you, Uncle Victor. I told you this would happen.” Suddenly noticing Steve standing in the corner, he rushed up and gripped Steve’s arm. “Arrest me.”
“I can’t arrest you, Jack. I’m not a police officer,” Steve explained patiently.
“I’m probably not even a private detective anymore.”
“But I killed him.” Jack
pushed his gold-rimmed glasses higher up on his nose. “He was going to have me committed. But it’s not fair. I don’t think I set that fire. Robert knows. You should talk to Robert.”
Steve
shook his head sadly.
Jack bit his lip. “
You believe me, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Jack.”
“Uncle Victor didn’t believe me, either,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “He said that I had to go away. I didn’t want to go, so I killed him,” he said, thrusting his arms out in front of himself. “Cuff me.”
Steve sighed
. It wasn’t that he thought Jack incapable of killing his uncle. Quite the contrary, Jack was just as capable as anyone else in the house. It was just that Jack was the type of man who would happily confess to every crime that had been or would ever be committed, whether he did it or not. Still, you never know, he thought, before asking, “How did you kill your uncle?”
Jack glanced back at the body. “I thought and thought and thought. I concentrated really hard and imagined him dying and
now . . . he’s dead.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“Steve,” Michaels
called from the doorway. “Mr. Wellington’s in the library downstairs. He wants you to listen to this.”
Why
hovering on his lips, Steve glanced up before bringing his gaze down again. Unable to make eye contact, he shuffled past Jack and Michaels and walked downstairs toward the library. “Are the police on their way?”
“I couldn’t get through. Cell phone reception is spotty up here and the phones are out. I was just informing Mr.
Wellington of the problem when Robert and Lucas got into it in the library. They’re all in there, hovering over the old man’s will like vultures,” Michaels said excitedly before pausing and looking at Steve in concern. “Are you okay?”
Nodding slightly, Steve pushed open the library door. Felicity stood on the other side. She backed up to let Steve
, Michaels and Jack enter the room.
“Felicity
, you should hear this. It involves you, too,” Robert said from the giant mahogany desk in the center of the room.
“I don’t care about his money, Robert. You all can have my share,” she said with a
casual wave of her hand.
“That’s very nice of you, Felicity
,” Robert said in amusement. “Completely unnecessary, but very nice.”
