Murder Most Persuasive (15 page)

Ann grimaced. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’ is right. He wants to see us. He’s going to meet us at your dad’s house at noon. He wants the list of employees.” I looked out the window. “And he may want to provide us with a brief tutorial on what constitutes interfering with police business.”

“I told you!” Kit crowed.

I ignored her.

“What the hell was I thinking going to see Donny?” Ann moaned. “Did Joe sound very mad? Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. From the way Ann constantly chewed on her lower lip, it was clear she was nervous about her conversation with Joe. Truth be told, I wasn’t too keen on the idea myself.

We arrived home around eleven thirty. The answering machine was blinking on the hall table, so Ann went to listen to it while I headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Kit followed me.

While I busied myself grinding the beans, Kit got down the mugs. After a minute, Ann came into the kitchen. “That was Laura,” Ann said. “She called to check in and see if I need anything and to invite us over for dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind, but I called her back and accepted.”

“That sounds like fun, actually. What time?”

“Eight. Kit, would you like to join us?” Ann asked.

“I’d love to,” Kit said. “Let me call Paul and see if he’s working.” Kit pulled out her phone and called Paul. From the disappointed side of her conversation, it was clear that tonight was not a good night for Paul.

“He’s working,” Kit said with a sigh as she snapped her phone shut. “But thanks for asking me.”

“Sure,” said Ann. “If you guys will excuse me, I’m going to change real quick before Joe gets here.” She glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt.

When she left, Kit turned to me. “What do you think is going to happen to her? Do the police really think she was involved?”

I shrugged and filled the coffeemaker with water. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t think Joe believes it, but that sergeant of his certainly is entertaining the idea. If you ask me, she likes Joe and is happy to paint Ann in an unfavorable light.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that the real killer is found,” Kit said.

That got my attention. “‘We’? I’m sorry, but aren’t you the sister who constantly mocks me for my so-called pretensions of assisting the police?”

Kit dismissed my words with a casual wave. “That’s not the point. The point is that we need to help Ann. We need to clear her name.”

I stared back at her, dumbfounded. I don’t know what was more daunting: the task of clearing Ann’s name or of doing it with Kit.

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, there was an official-sounding rap on the front door. As Ann was still getting ready and Kit had gone out back to make a call, I answered it. As expected, it was Joe, and as expected Scarlett was at my side eager to greet him. She was really starting to get on my nerves. Joe was wearing jeans and a faded blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked very handsome; from the hard set of his jaw, he also looked very mad. I invited him to have a seat in the living room. “Ann will be out in a minute,” I said, as he took a seat on one of the chairs. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” he said as he bent to pet Scarlett.

“You’re only encouraging her,” I said.

Joe laughed. “She’s a pretty little thing.”

“No, she’s an annoying little thing. So how have you been?” I asked, mainly to start a conversation that didn’t involve our trip to visit Donny.

“Fine,” he replied somewhat quietly. “And you?”

“Good, thanks.”

Joe said nothing else, nor did he seem inclined to do so. Frantically, I tried to think of something to talk about before the silence between us grew unbearably awkward. “Are you still sailing?” I finally asked, remembering how much Joe used to enjoy that sport.

“I am. I really started to focus on it more after … well, um … I just really got into it over the past couple of years.”

I nodded. Over the past eight years, I’d guess if I had to.

Joe continued, “I sailed in a regatta this summer.”

“Wow. That’s great. Do you still have the same boat? What was it called, again?”

“
The Asp,
” Joe replied with a nod. “No, unfortunately it was ruined in a storm a few years back. I’ve got a new one now.”

“That’s great. Is it the same kind of boat?”

“No, it’s a Catalina.”

“Oh, nice,” I said, not having any idea what kind of boat a Catalina is but nodding as though I did.

“You don’t know what a Catalina is, do you?” said Joe with a smile.

“Uh, no. Not really. No,” I admitted.

“It’s a brand of sailboat. Mine’s a thirty-foot. It’s a little bigger than
The Asp
was.”

“Oh.” The silence returned. I thought he was about to ask about our visit to Donny, so I quickly said, “Where’s your sergeant today?”

Joe flushed. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell her about your visit.”

“Does she really think Ann could have killed Michael? It’s ludicrous!”

Joe shrugged. “Erica … Sergeant Beal isn’t a bad cop, but she has a tendency to be impulsive. I admire her spirit, but sometimes she lacks good sense.”

As I tended to be one of those souls who leaned more toward impulsivity rather than good sense, I chose not to comment. Instead I asked, “You don’t think Ann did it, do you?”

Joe shook his head. “No. The Ann I knew would never do anything like that.” He paused. “Lord knows people change. I mean Ann … well, the other night I hardly recognized her…” Joe stopped, seeming to realize what he was saying. “But no matter what has happened, I know that Ann could never kill anyone.”

“Well, can’t you tell your sergeant that?”

“The problem is that Erica knows about Ann and me. For me to tell her to back off of her theory would look bad. It could actually make it worse for Ann.”

I thought about what he said. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. “Have there been any additional developments on Michael?” I asked.

Joe shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, the people who had the most against him are the Reynoldses. Michael didn’t seem to have any friends or family that I can find. His whole life seemed to revolve around Reggie and the business.”

“But—”

Joe raised his hand. “I don’t want to believe anyone in the family killed him, Elizabeth. In fact, I’m doing everything I can to find another answer. Trust me. The last thing I want is to hurt An … the family,” he amended.

I understood him. He might still be angry at Ann for ending their relationship, but he was not unfeeling. He didn’t want to see her suffer and would do what he could to prevent it. My hopes that they might be able to reconcile rose. Joe might still be resentful, but he was also here. That alone was an excellent start.

“I’m here to help, too,” I said. “I don’t want to see Ann hurt any more than you do. She hasn’t been very, well,
happy
in a long time. I’d hate to see her get hurt
again
because of her family.”

Okay, that last bit might have been too obvious, but I’ve found it pays to be direct.

Joe shot me an odd look. “What are you talking about?”

So maybe my idea of direct doesn’t always jibe with everyone else’s.

“Uh, well, you know…” I began, suddenly at a loss for words. Luckily, Ann joined us just then. For a moment, it was like the past eight years had never happened. It was like looking at the old Ann. She was wearing a green-and-tan cotton sheath. Her hair was freshly curled, and makeup had been artfully applied. I didn’t think Joe would be looking through her today. Upon seeing her, I was happy to notice that Joe’s expression softened and I doubted he still thought she’d changed beyond recognition. That he still cared for her, I was sure. But whether his pride would let him admit that was another story.

“I’ve just made some coffee,” I offered. “Can I get everyone a cup?”

This time my offer was accepted, and I ducked back into the kitchen where Kit was readying the tray.

“Is Joe here?” she asked. When I nodded, her face twisted into a grimace. “Well, let’s see if we can’t convince him to look for Michael’s murderer elsewhere.”

“I don’t think it’s him we need to convince. It’s that sergeant of his. Thankfully, Joe didn’t bring her today.”

Kit and I took our time in the kitchen, hoping to give Ann and Joe a moment alone with each other. When we finally emerged with the tray laden with the coffee, cups, cream, and sugar, Ann and Joe were quietly talking. When they saw me and Kit, they fell silent and Joe got to his feet.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He took the tray from me and actually smiled at me. Wondering what had prompted the change in his mood, I glanced at Ann, but she was staring at the floor. Her cheeks, however, appeared to be a bit rosier than they’d been minutes before.

Kit and I seated ourselves and I poured out the coffee. After everyone was served, I said, “Joe, I’m sorry about going to see Donny. It’s just that Ann didn’t like the idea of telling the police about him until she saw him first. But he’s lying, I know he is. He knew about Michael before we got there.”

Joe nodded. “Well, I appreciate the tip. Just next time—”

“Don’t let there be a next time, right?”

With a grim smile, he nodded. “Exactly.”

“The problem is,” said Kit, “that it seems there are some in your department who think that Ann might have been involved in Michael’s murder. I don’t know if you know this, but Elizabeth has helped the police in the past.” I gaped at her. Just days ago she mocked the very idea that I had provided any real assistance to the police. Now she was touting my skills.

At Joe’s inquisitive glance, I explained. “I’ve been involved in two murder investigations. Last year, a guest at my aunt’s inn was murdered, and this past fall, a guest at my friend’s wedding was murdered.”

“In both cases, Elizabeth was fundamental in helping the police solve the crimes,” Ann added loyally.

Joe glanced curiously at me before saying, “Well, obviously I’d appreciate any tips you might have, but as I said before…”

“I know, I know. Nothing but complete honesty from now on,” I said.

“Our point is,” continued Kit, “that we’d be happy to offer our services.”

I gaped at her. “
Our
services! What are you, my broker?”

Kit gave me a level look. “We’re family. I think we are obliged to help. Besides, I’ve always been good at finding things out, too. I can help.”

“Kit! Just because you’re a good gossip doesn’t make you a good investigator!” I snapped.

Kit’s brows pulled together and her lips pursed. She was about to say something, but Ann spoke first. “I’ll take all the help I can get. I really appreciate both of you helping me.” Turning back to Joe, Ann said, “Does your sergeant really think I killed Michael?”

“I think that she’s young and wants to impress. But Ann, why didn’t you tell me about Michael?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I thought that I could handle it. I’m not sure what I would have done if Michael hadn’t disappeared. But when he did, the problem seemed to disappear with him. Oh, what a mess I’ve made of things! What must Reggie think?” she said, putting her head in her hands.

“Ann, this wasn’t your fault.” Joe leaned forward and put his hand on hers. Color rose in her cheeks and she looked down at his hand like it was a long-lost friend. Joe continued, “How could anyone be angry with you for something Michael did? And Reggie
didn’t
marry him—thank God. She broke up with him
before
his attack on you. Who knows, maybe he was trying to get back at her. Anyway, it’s not as if you kept quiet about him and let Reggie marry the bastard. Only then could you have a legitimate regret.” Joe’s voice strained a little as the thought occurred to him of another regret Ann might—or might not—have. He pulled his hand back. Ann’s glance slid away and her cheeks grew even redder. “All I’m saying,” said Joe, “is that Reggie
knew
Michael was a creep. He stole from your father. Finding out about this attack on you only confirms what she already knew.”

Ann fingered the handle of her coffee cup. “I guess you’re right, Joe. I just wish it had all been different.”

“So do I,” Joe said quietly.

CHAPTER 15

My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation.

—
PERSUASION

J
OE STAYED
a little while longer. Kit and I busied ourselves in the kitchen as much as possible. Despite Ann’s earlier protestations that she didn’t want to be left alone with Joe, she didn’t seem to notice our frequent absences. Or if she did notice, she didn’t seem to mind.

While I was in no way eavesdropping, I did overhear a few snippets of their conversation. They talked mainly about their jobs. Ann told Joe about some of the projects she’d worked on lately, and Joe detailed some of his more interesting cases. At one point Ann responded to something Joe said with, “No, never. You?” He, too, responded with a negative. Were they discussing marriage histories?

Joe left around one o’clock with a promise to call us if he learned anything new. After that, Ann, Kit, and I decided to go into Georgetown for lunch. We headed to Martin’s Tavern, a favorite haunt of locals and tourists alike. The two-story tavern, which opened in the early 1930s, has hosted every president from Harry Truman to George W. Bush. John Kennedy used to be a regular. In fact, he proposed to Jackie in booth number three. In the main dining room, foxhunting prints and black-and-white baseball photos hang on paneled walls while Tiffany-style lamps dangle overhead.

We slid into one of the high-backed hardwood booths that afford a view of Wisconsin Avenue and studied the menu in silence. “You know,” Ann said, after we’d decided on our orders, “I was thinking. Maybe I should get in touch with Nana.”

At the mention of Nana, I looked up in surprise. Nana (aka Sara Myerson) had worked for years for Uncle Marty as a kind of housekeeper/nanny. She had been brought in to pick up Bonnie’s slack. As you might imagine, it was a full-time job. Nana kept the house organized, the kids supervised, and Marty in good humor. Not an easy task, but Nana tolerated no foolishness, and under her watch the household ran with a machinelike precision. Despite her strictness and no-nonsense manner, all of the kids adored Nana and remained close to her well after her retirement. She now lived in St. Michaels, not far from the family’s old summer house.