Paperwhite Narcissus (17 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Riggs

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“Mr. Botts,” said Wendy, “this is Lynn.”
Botts snatched off his glasses. “You’re Dwyer’s girl?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lynn.
“Can you write?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lynn.
The dog on the floor next to Botts opened his eyes and thumped his tail.
“I can’t pay you.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Botts.”
“Have you published anything?”
“Yes, sir.” Lynn handed him her scrapbook of clippings from the
Hyannis Academy Scroll
.
Botts put his glasses on and turned back to his typewriter. “You’ll have to talk to the personnel department,” he muttered. “Mrs. Trumbull.”
The next morning was the sort of rare day Islanders call “typical Vineyard weather.” The sky was a brilliant clear blue with puffy summer clouds. The humidity was low, the temperature in the high sixties. Victoria, wearing a clean pair of corduroy trousers and a worn-thin sweatshirt with ALICE ROCK emblazoned in faded letters, was waiting on the steps when Botts pulled up.
“I gather you saw something in Matt’s photos,” he said, helping her into the passenger seat.
“I’m not sure what I saw. I know I need to talk to Colley.” She was quiet until they passed the youth hostel. “I can think of one theory that fits all three killings,” she said.
“Oh?” said Botts.
Victoria rolled her window down partway. “Calpurnia expected Ambler Fieldstone to leave his wife for her. When she learned that Colley had set her up with Ambler as if she were a call girl, Calpurnia was humiliated and outraged.” She glanced at Botts who was watching a slow-moving car ahead of them. “Enough to kill, I think.”
Botts said nothing.
They were almost at Willow Tree Hollow before Victoria spoke again. “Have you seen the photos?”
Botts shook his head. “I heard Colley is desperate to get hold of them.”
“The photos show Audrey and Calpurnia together on Audrey’s boat, possibly the day Ambler Fieldstone was run over. Colley wants the pictures for blackmail. I’m convinced of that.”
“Against his own wife?”
“Against Calpurnia
and
Audrey. All Colley needs to do is show those pictures to the authorities to reopen the investigation. We know Colley needs money for some reason. Quite a large amount.”
“And you think he’ll get that by exposing his wife as the killer and getting Audrey to pay? I don’t think so, Victoria.”
Victoria was quiet again until they reached the airport entrance. “What about this: With Fieldstone dead, Audrey inherits a fortune and Calpurnia gets her revenge. They both benefit. Suppose they got together to kill him. Both women know how to run power boats.”
Botts shook his head. “That might explain the women together in Audrey’s boat, but the photo is no secret. Matt’s showed it to several people. Colley can hardly say, ‘Give me two- or three-hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll give you the photo.’”
The car ahead of them signaled for a left turn onto Airport Road and they were able to speed up.
“Furthermore,” Botts continued, “I don’t think the deaths of Candy and Al Fox fit your theory.”
“But they do,” said Victoria. “You knew, didn’t you, that Candy flew to Nantucket to meet with Ambler the day he was killed? She may have learned, or guessed, that Calpurnia and Audrey met up with him …” She stopped.
“Go on,” said Botts.
“It’s an awfully gruesome way to kill someone,” said Victoria. “Even someone you loathe.”
“How do you figure the Candy and Al Fox killings?” he asked when he was back up to speed. “Who lured Candy into the field and shot her? Was it Calpurnia or Audrey? Surely not both of them. Which one sent her the cyanide divinity fudge?” Botts laughed. “And why would either of them kill their lawyer?”
Victoria turned toward him. “What’s so amusing?”
“The murder weapon. The framed Shakespeare quote about killing all the lawyers.”
Victoria drummed her fingers on the arm rest. “Every lawyer in the world has that quote hanging in his or her office. Candy undoubtedly told Al Fox she was suspicious of one or both of the women. One of them convinced Candy that she should be out in that field the day the boy and his father were shooting. Candy complained to Casey about the shooting practice so close to her.”
They swooped into Quampache, one of the glacial drainage channels that marked the halfway point between West Tisbury and Edgartown. Victoria’s grandfather had always pronounced the valley’s name “Quam’-pa-chee.” But Leonard Vanderhoop, a Wampanoag from Gay Head, told Victoria at the senior center that the Indian pronounciation accented the second syllable, so Victoria adopted the new, to her, pronounciation.
“You think Calpurnia shot Candy?”
“It seems likely. Calpurnia knows enough about guns to aim and pull the trigger. Since the shots didn’t kill her, her aim wasn’t great. Candy would never have suspected Calpurnia.”
“Tell me this, Victoria. What does Calpurnia say when she calls Candy—‘I want to meet you in the field behind your house where the boy and his father are shooting to show you a new dress I just bought’?”
“You needn’t be sarcastic.”
“I suppose the poisoned divinity was easy enough. ‘From an admirer.’ That would be enough for Candy, I’m sure. Anyone might have sent that to her.”
A flock of wild turkeys started across the road and Botts stopped until they reached the other side.
“You’re going to ask me why Calpurnia would have killed Al Fox, aren’t you?”
Botts smiled.
“Candy probably told Al Fox that she believed the two women had killed Fieldstone. Knowing Al Fox, he probably told Calpurnia.”
“You think all this leads up to Colley being the next victim. He hasn’t been threatened, as far as we know.”
“Calpurnia wouldn’t threaten, she would act. Once she’s killed three people, Ambler Fieldstone, Candy, and Al Fox, she has nothing to lose. By killing Colley, she’ll have completed her revenge and will inherit, she thinks, close to four million dollars.”
“Does Calpurnia know about Colley’s daughter?”
Victoria sat up straight. “We need to warn Colley, and we need to warn Lynn’s mother and stepfather.”
“The whole scenario sounds far-fetched to me.”
“Can you think of another explanation?”
“Not at the moment. If you’re convinced that Calpurnia is the killer, you need to talk to the state police. I’ll take you there, if you’d like.”
“They’ll need proof, and I don’t have proof. I’ll have to talk to Colley first.”
They didn’t talk about the murders after that. Botts turned right onto Main Street, right again onto South Summer Street, and dropped Victoria off in front of the
Enquirer.
A few roses still bloomed along the picket fence, but rose season had passed and now the small garden in front of the newspaper office was filled with newly planted bright annuals, blue ageratum, red salvia, yellow marigolds.
Down the aisle between the reporters’ desks, in the editor’s office, Colley was on the phone with his back to the door, his feet on the windowsill. He swiveled around, scowled, and put his hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m on the phone, Victoria.” Turning back to the window, he continued his conversation.
Victoria knew he expected her to leave. Instead, she sat in her usual chair and heard him say, “ … I’ll have the balance when I arrive.”
“Colley, I must talk to you. Right now.”
Colley looked up at her again and his scowl faded slightly. He said into the phone, “I’ll call you back. Give me your number again.” He jotted the number on a notepad and hung up.
Victoria moved the visitor’s chair and sat down.
“What the hell is bugging you now, Victoria?”
“I’ve changed my mind about the murders.”
“Bravo,” said Colley. “A first.”
Victoria leaned forward. “I told you I thought the killings were over. I believe, now, that they’ve been leading up to at least one more death, possibly two.”
Colley laughed. “Let me guess. You think I’m the target. You’re here to warn me.”
“It’s not amusing, Colley.”
“Come, now, Victoria. You’re being ridiculous. Tom Dwyer doesn’t have the guts to kill me.”
“I’ve told you repeatedly, he’s not the killer.”
“You’re not getting senile, are you, Victoria?”
Victoria flushed. “You’re the common element in all three murders.” She tapped her gnarled forefinger on his desk. “You’ve got to listen to me.”
“I certainly
don’t
have to listen to you.” Colley leaned back in his chair. “Fieldstone’s death has been declared an accident. No question.”
Victoria shook her head.
“Granted, both Candy and Al Fox were killed. But I’m the logical suspect in both of those, don’t you agree?” He patted his chest, straightened his tie, and smiled. “One less alimony payment to make and a new and better lawyer.”
“This is not a joking matter, Colley. You’ve made a number of enemies.”
Colley waved his hand dismissively. “You did what I asked you to do, Victoria, and at a usurious price. You identified Dwyer as the sick character who was writing those obits. Thank you. Leave the murders alone, will you?” He sat forward again. “The police don’t need some interfering old lady bothering them.” He stood. “I have to get back to that phone call. I appreciate your concern. I’ll accompany you to the door.”
“Don’t bother.” Victoria stood up, went out of the office, and
strode between the rows of reporter’s desks, looking straight ahead, eyes glittering. As she went down the stairs, she held the rail firmly. She stopped at the reception desk.
Faith looked up. “Do you need something, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“You keep Colley’s schedule, don’t you?”
“When he remembers to tell me his appointments, yes.”
Victoria leaned on her stick. “Do you know if he’s planning an off Island trip sometime soon?”
Faith paged through her desk calendar. “He’s going on vacation at the end of September. Three weeks. Things slow down then.”
Victoria acted casual. “I suppose he’s going to Vermont to view the leaves?”
“He’s going to miss the New England fall colors. He’s heading for Arizona.”
“That’s a lovely state,” said Victoria. “One of my grandnephews goes to school in Phoenix. Will Colley be near there?”
Faith shook her head. “He gave me a phone number, but I don’t know where he’s staying.”
“My grandnephew would love to meet him, if Colley’s nearby.”
“Would you like the phone number?” Faith riffled through some papers on her desk.
“May I?”
“I don’t know why not, Mrs. Trumbull.” Faith wrote the number on a slip of paper and handed it to Victoria, who thanked her and went out to Botts’s truck, which was still parked in front of the building. He opened the passenger door for her.
“Did you get anywhere with Colley?”
Victoria shook her head. “Stubborn, opinionated, obstinate …”
“That pretty well describes our Colley Jameson.”
“Would you mind taking me to Al Fox’s office?”
“Some loose ends, Madam Reporter?”
Victoria nodded. “Colley’s going on a three-week vacation at the end of September.”
“That seems reasonable,” said Botts.
“I heard Colley say on the phone that he’d pay the balance when he got somewhere,” Victoria said.
“Hotel accommodations, probably.”
Victoria glanced at him. “Is that how you take care of hotel bills? Don’t you pay with a credit card once you arrive?”
Botts shrugged.
The law office was only a few blocks from the
Enquirer,
but a long way by car down narrow one-way streets that went the wrong direction. Victoria wound down the window and took a deep breath. “What do you suppose he did with the four hundred and fifty thousand dollars he got from Ambler Fieldstone? I have a feeling his vacation and the money are related.”
“A four-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar vacation?”
“He’s spent the money already. He needs to repay the Fieldstone estate and he was trying to pry some of the trust funds loose from Al Fox.”
Botts eased over to the far-left side of the narrow road to pass a couple on bicycles. They were wearing matching blue-and-yellow skintight pants that showed off their thigh muscles.
Victoria watched the bicyclists until Botts had passed them, then continued, almost to herself. “According to his wife he’s not a gambler and he’s not involved with drugs. He’s a womanizer, but doesn’t need money for that.”
“Ugh,” said Botts.
The one-way street made a sharp turn to the left into another street and Botts stopped at the stop sign.
“Those are the only expensive habits I can think of,” Victoria said. “Gambling and drugs. What could he be doing with that kind of money? Paying the balance when he arrives?” She thought. “Real estate? Would he be buying property in Arizona?”
Botts said nothing. They’d reached the corner where the law office was located, and he turned into the small parking area.
“Want me to go up with you, Victoria?”
“No, thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”
“I have to do an errand for my wife. She’s having another telephone installed.” He glanced sideways at Victoria. “I’ll meet you back here.”

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