Murder on Parade (8 page)

A large woman in a down coat moved away from the registration desk and we took her place. Formalities taken care of, I hitched up my garment bag and hat box and nodded toward the stairs. Alex followed closely, drinking in the details.

The front of the Inn had been modernized and this is where the guests stayed, but for the first time the new owners were opening the old wing where the ballroom was located. The expense of electrifying the room had been high especially since they wanted to preserve the intricately carved woodwork that had escaped dry rot and wood-worm—thanks to a shaman’s blessing which he threw in for free when it turned out he couldn’t get rid of the ghosts for the troubled builder. Rumor had it that the space with its refinished floors and massive fireplace was worth every penny the new owners spent and I was excited to be there for the inaugural dance. A crew from the History channel was going to be filming the ball as part of a documentary about historic and haunted hotels. I was so happy that I had a great costume for the event. Alex was going as a black knight. We would look stunning and do our hometown proud.

We were staying the night and I was pleased with our room which opened with an old fashioned brass key. It was all dark wood and velvet with a four poster bed with curtains that probably didn’t close but which looked wonderful to a girl who had wanted a canopy bed and never got one. The rug was reproduction, but a good one, and the rest of the furniture was a mix of authentic and faux antiques that were charming. There was also a large oval mirror for primping.

I couldn’t resist stepping out on the small balcony to look around the snowy gardens. The smell of ice was in the air and I felt a slight pang of concern. Blue was with Dad so I knew she was warm and safe. The cats had declined to pack up their toys and catnip and join Blue for her overnight, but they had lots of kibble and the heater was on. I assured myself that they were fine too.

“Want to try out the bed?” Alex asked and smiled warmly. “It looks fit for a king.”

“Okay. Let’s see if the bed curtains work.”

*  *  *

The ballroom was as beautiful as advertised. The lighting was recessed or else done with wall sconces whose crystal facets sparkled like stars. There was also an enormous chandelier which had been wired for electricity. About one third of the space was given to dining. The rest was for the small orchestra and dancing. The owners had resisted the temptation to pack the place, though they probably could have. I had known that this would be a luxury affair but I was beginning to suspect that this evening’s entertainment had cost Alex more than I imagined.

It’s bragging, but I must say that we got a lot of attention. My mask especially drew a number of admiring stares. It might have been more impressive if I was six feet tall, but I had to settle for cute rather than menacing. Alex was wearing a swooping mustache and a half helmet that disguised his face and I made it a point not to speak and ruin the mystery of who we were for the locals who were speculating about us. I was especially pleased by not being recognized by Tara Lee. I did not want to spend the night in her orbit which she might well expect since most of the Lit Wits lionized her.

The menu for the buffet was impressive and I considered keeping one of the parchment cards laid on the china place settings as a souvenir. There was oyster soup, goose with trimmings, suckling pig, and rum trifle and almond gateau for dessert. It would mean removing my mask while I ate but I couldn’t resist such a bill of fare. And since it was a buffet there was no one to frown at what I avoided and what I decided to try— perhaps to excess in the case of the trifle.

There were no place cards assigning us seats which suited me since I liked to stay away from shrieking people. Meaning tourists and drunks mostly. Alex and I chose a quiet, secluded spot near a wall. It took a moment to stow my cape which had tangled with Alex’s sword and only then did I look around at our companions. Frankly, I was stunned to see Laurie Dillon at our table. Laurie looked newly varnished, hair bobbed and colored, brighter make-up and a new black evening gown that from the chemical smell hadn’t been worn yet. I told myself it was possible that she had made her reservations long ago just as Alex had, and was determined not to lose her deposit (though I found it hard to believe that the Inn wouldn’t have refunded the widow had she requested it). It seemed more likely to me that she was someone’s guest.

This suspicion was confirmed when I looked a second time at the exquisite Harlequin sitting beside Laurie which proved to be Herb’s sister. That costume hadn’t been made in a day and sure wasn’t a rental. Attending this party seemed more likely that this had been something Linda and Tom had planned. And at the last minute Linda had invited her sister in law instead.  It was a gesture of kindness. Probably. And awfully gallant of Tom to give up his place at this very expensive affair when they were probably hard pressed to afford it. Or had been.

The kind gesture seemed wasted though. The widow was mostly calm under her simple black Zorro mask but her composure seemed only as deep as a coat of varnish and cracked from time to time. This was to be expected and excused in the bereaved, except hysteria and grief usually came with tears and not small bursts of smothered laughter that were inadequately buried in a napkin.

I decided that I would have to find out from Bess Trader if Laurie was taking happy pills. Or maybe her sister-in-law had supplied her with some of the whacky tobbacky Linda and Tom were rumored to grow in the summer as a way to supplement their income.

“Alex,” I whispered.

“I see.” He didn’t sound thrilled. I wasn’t either but we could hardly get up and leave without being insulting.

“Let’s eat.”

It was to be expected that many of the women would be wearing gardenia perfume. The scent, in moderation, was inoffensive though it had become associated with death in my mind and I would never like smelling it, especially with roast goose. But on my way to the much desired trifle, I caught a whiff of the feral version and, like a child called by the Pied Piper, I followed the trail to wearer, a tall woman with dark hair cut in a bob that looked like Laurie’s. Her mask was plain black velvet similar to the widow’s, but it was more than enough drama when paired with the sheer beaded flapper dress she wore with a body stocking. I recognized her, Chelsea Tower. And if the rumors of her relationship with Herb Dillon were true then it had not been an affair of the heart, at least not on her side. She didn’t look grief stricken as she flirted with a tall, medieval prince that I finally recognized as David Cooper. If anything, I would have called her giddy and David also looked tastelessly happy as well.

The scent grew stronger as she turned her back, almost as though she had sprayed the back of her dress rather than the front, leaving a kind of scented bull’s-eye.

The hair on my arms stood up straight and I looked around for Laurie and Linda.

“Oh geez. I need to call the chief,” I whispered to Alex as he joined me at the buffet. “Dance me toward the door.”

“Why?” he asked, but immediately complied.

“See the bombshell in the flapper dress? That’s Herb Dillon’s lover. And she is with David— Herb and Laurie’s attorney. She’s wearing the same perfume I smelled on Herb but it’s all over the back of her dress. Someone put it on her, I think so I would notice it.”

Alex gave a silent whistle.

“You think there’ll be a fight if the widow sees her here?”

“I think there’ll be a murder,” I said without thinking, earning a worried look from Alex. “Hurry, but don’t look panicked. We’re being filmed.”

Chapter 12

We had had to wander a fair distance from the ballroom before I could get a signal on my cell. The chief answered after only a couple of rings and he took my call in good stead. In fact, he sounded pretty enthused for a man asked to turn out on a snowy New Year’s Eve night, though from the background noise I could tell that he wasn’t at home. I tried not to be annoyed. I feared that something fatal was about to happen, but he was thinking in terms of solving a murder before one had even been officially declared. I didn’t mention that there was a film crew around immortalizing the New Year’s Eve event, though it was on my mind. How the heck were we going to keep this from them?

“What do you want me to do?” Alex asked. He wasn’t bitter about having his very expensive and well-planned evening taken over by my work and this makes him a prince among men.

We started back for the ballroom. I put my mask back on because it was easier than carrying it. We didn’t run but we were moving fast.

“Keep an eye on Chelsea. I’ll head for Laurie. Try to avoid attracting the cameras.” I wished that there was someone to send to the lobby to wait for the chief, but he was resourceful and would find us. “Damn it! I hope I’m wrong about this.”

“You think Chelsea is in danger?” he asked. “Even with David there?”

“Only if she does something stupid. And David won’t be able to stop it.”

We parted at the door and I headed for Laurie fearing I might already have left it too late. David was standing at the table. Laurie had a plate in front of her, it was filled with trifle and almond gateau. The trifle was snowy white, studded with the glowing rubies of cherries and currants. The almond gateau looked a little runny and I could smell the bitter almonds from six feet away.

“Stop.” I took the spoon away from Laurie. My hands were shaking.

“What…” Her eyes were unfocused and her face was ghastly pale. She didn’t recognize me in my mask.

“Did she eat any gateau?” I demanded of David.

“Chloe, is that you? I hardly think—” he began in his most pompous voice.

“Shut up. Laurie— did you eat any of this?” Her eyes were glazed and before I could ask anything else, she leaned over the side of the table and vomited. Fortunately, it was into her purse. The nasty odor that floated up was of wine but not bitter almonds. I hoped this meant she was safe.

“What’s wrong with her?” David asked in alarm.

“Help me get her out of here. We may need an ambulance. Did Chelsea send you over with that dessert?”

He looked baffled and then as he put the pieces together, horrified. He quickly hauled Laurie to her feet. We left her purse. I doubted anyone would steal it.

“No. It was Linda.”

There was a sudden commotion across the room as Linda saw us and panicked. She tried to shove her way out of the crowd at the buffet table. Fortunately she tried to run past Alex, and he had the good sense to stick his foot out. Linda landed in a heap at the door to the ballroom where the chief and Officer Bryce were waiting.

*  *  *

“I was in the bar downstairs,” the chief said, slipping off his suit coat. “Bryce and I were at loose ends this evening and decided to stop in here for a drink.”

“Thank heavens you did, otherwise the cameras would have gotten an eyeful of a dragon and a knight taking out a clown,” I said, slumping back into my chair. Alex, the chief, David and I were in our room, huddled around the small fireplace. Lawrence Bryce had taken Linda Borders and the plate of poisoned dessert away. Doctor Potter was attending the ball with his wife and they were seeing to Laurie Dillon who was sick with alcohol poisoning, but not from ingesting cyanide.

“Now, you want to explain why I arrested this woman and what is going on?”

I took a deep breath.

“Linda Borders tried to kill her sister-in-law with cyanide. And blame it on Chelsea Towers—Herb Dillon’s lover-- if she got the chance. I think that if we hadn’t been there, she might have gotten away with it.”

“But… how?” Alex and the chief looked surprised at this question. David looked worse. I guess maybe he was serious about this girl.

“Cyanide is not that hard to find. A lot of people have rat poison left in their basements or tool sheds. It is also naturally occurring in certain foods like peach pits, apple and mango seeds. Those beautiful trees covered in pink blossoms out in Linda’s yard? Those are bitter almonds. The seeds look almost like regular almonds, but you never see squirrels or birds eating them, do you? Grind the seed and mix the emulsion with water and you get almond oil and cyanide.”

“Dear God,” the chief said it but Alex and David looked like they agreed. “And people grow these trees on purpose?”

“The trees are not that rare even in the mountains. And cyanide is an old favorite for murderers. It’s what was in the Kool-Aid at Jonestown,” I reminded them.

“Aaron’s rod,” Alex muttered. The chief and I nodded, understanding what he meant. In the Bible, Aaron’s Rod brought forth both kind of almond flowers. It bore sweet almonds on one side and bitter on the other. If people followed the Lord and were righteous, the sweet almonds would be luscious and edible, but if they were to do evil, the bitter almonds would grow instead.

“As to why Linda did it, I think David can tell us.” David looked a bit blank and I stifled a sigh. What had I ever seen in him? “Doesn’t Herb Dillon’s trust say that Linda inherits everything if Herb’s wife dies? Laurie only gets the house and things for as long as she lives, then it reverts to Linda, right?” I prompted. He nodded slowly, looking grim. In a way I was glad that David was beyond speech. “I figured, since the money came from his family. Maybe Linda meant to stop at killing her brother to get out from under her onerous loan, but when she found out how much money her tightwad brother had in the bank— half of which she felt should have gone to her, except her parents disinherited Linda when she decided to live in a commune and grow dope— and how little of it Laurie was willing to share with the sister-in-law who had done her such a big favor when she offed her philandering husband, I think she decided to take steps. Linda probably knew that you were escorting Chelsea to this party. Here was her chance to make a move, everyone in one place, a crowded room, and a patsy who would be thoughtful enough to take food to his widowed client if asked. She told nerveless Tom to stay at home and invited Laurie instead.”

“But—I would tell everyone that she asked me to do it, not Chelsea.” David found his voice.