Wedding Cake Killer (14 page)

“Just because he flirted a little doesn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Eve,” Sam said. “Some fellas are just that way.”

“I suppose,” Phyllis said.

Jan glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Goodness, you’ve let me blather on for nearly half an hour, when all you came out here to do was pick up those things.” She had a worried look on her face now, as if she had realized at last that she was talking too much. “Once I get wound up, it’s hard to stop me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phyllis said. “I always enjoy visiting with people.”

“Yes, but I, uh, wasn’t supposed to talk about what happened.”

Phyllis held up both hands. “Don’t worry, Sam and I are both very discreet.”

“Good, because Pete wouldn’t be happy with me if he found out.”

“We don’t have any reason to tell Pete anything,” Sam said.

Jan looked relieved. “You go ahead and finish that doughnut, Sam,” she said, “and then we’ll load up those boxes.”

It didn’t take long to put the handful of boxes in the Lincoln’s trunk and lay Eve’s clothes across the backseat. All of Roy’s clothes were in the boxes, Jan explained.

“But I left Eve’s on the hangers to keep them nicer,” she added.

“That was very considerate of you,” Phyllis said. “I’m sure Eve’s not going to want to deal with any of this for a while, but I’ve got plenty of storage space in my house, so we’ll just leave everything in the boxes.”

“You’ll give Eve my best?”

Phyllis smiled. “Of course.”

“And tell her that if there’s anything I can do . . .”

“I’m sure she knows that.”

Jan hesitated, then hugged both Phyllis and Sam. “She’s really lucky to have friends like you two and Carolyn. I feel like I’ve known all of you for years.”

They said their good-byes, then got into the Lincoln; Phyllis pulled out, hearing the crunch of gravel under the car’s tires and remembering what Jan had said about hearing someone leaving just before she found Roy’s body. Phyllis wondered if she had told the sheriff’s men the same thing. She probably had.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Friendly woman.”

“And you enjoyed that hug she gave you, didn’t you?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.”

“Well, you don’t have to grin quite so big about it. But I’ve been thinking,” Phyllis went on. “What if things went a little further with Roy than Jan was willing to admit?”

Sam’s grin disappeared. “Are you sayin’ that maybe the two of ’em . . . well, you know? That doesn’t seem likely to me. Gals like Jan sometimes get a mite touchy-feely themselves, but that doesn’t mean they’re lookin’ to play around.”

“No, but what if Roy got more aggressive than she told us? What if she was trying to fend him off and things got out of hand and . . .”

“And she grabbed that letter opener and stuck it in his neck?” Sam thought about it and nodded slowly. “Could’ve happened that way. All we’ve got is her word for it that she heard somethin’ fall upstairs.”

“And that she heard a car pulling away,” Phyllis said. “She could have said that just to throw suspicion on someone else, most likely Eve.”

Sam rubbed his chin. “Here’s another one for you. Maybe ol’ Pete knew what Roy was tryin’ to pull. From the way Jan was talkin’, he can be a little hot tempered. She said he was old-fashioned in some ways, too. An old-fashioned sort of fella might confront a lounge lizard like Roy and tell him to stay the heck away from his wife. Then Roy says somethin’ that makes Pete even madder, and like you said, things get outta hand . . .”

“Did you just call Roy a lounge lizard?”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You’re not old enough to be using terms like that.”

“Oh, but I am,” he said. “Heard fellas called that many a time when I was growin’ up.”

“Anyway,” Phyllis said, “there’s two more possible suspects right there.”

“Reasonable doubt,” Sam said.

Phyllis shook her head. “No, I don’t want reasonable doubt,” she said, putting into words the thought that had gone through her head earlier. “I want Roy’s killer . . . signed, sealed, and delivered.”

Chapter 21

W
hen they got back to t
he house, it was almost time for lunch. Sam volunteered to take the boxes in while Phyllis fixed something to eat.

“Put as many of the boxes as you can into that back hall closet,” she told him. “The others can go in the cabinets in the utility room. I think between those two places, there’s plenty of room for everything.”

“What about Eve’s clothes?” Sam asked.

Phyllis frowned in thought for a moment before she said, “Lay them on the bed in my room. I didn’t tell her we were going out to the bed-and-breakfast, so she doesn’t know we were bringing those things back. I don’t want to spring them on her without preparing her first. I’ll talk to her, and then I can hang the clothes in her closet later.”

Sam nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Phyllis made grilled ham and pepper sandwiches for lunch. One of the neighbors had brought them a ham, so she used big slices to make the sandwiches. That was the quickest and easiest thing to do, and it didn’t take much thought. Her brain was already busy going over everything Jan Delaney had told her and Sam that morning, as well as the things Jan had done to reveal her personality.

Both theories she and Sam had come up with—that either Jan or Pete Delaney could have killed Roy because of his advances toward Jan—seemed reasonable. There was no proof to indicate that either of those things had happened, but the Delaneys had had both motive and opportunity, and if the letter opener was in Eve and Roy’s room, either of them could have picked it up and used it just as easily as Eve could have. Only the facts that spouses were always suspects in homicides, Eve had no alibi, and only her prints were on the weapon made the authorities believe she was guilty.

But Eve had said that she didn’t have the letter opener at the bed-and-breakfast, Phyllis recalled, which opened up even more questions. How else could it have gotten there and been used to commit murder? She supposed Roy could have taken it along. The sheriff’s department investigators just assumed that Eve was lying about it, of course. To them, her denial might just make her seem even more guilty.

It was a dizzying situation, Phyllis thought, made even more so by the fact that one of her friends was accused of the crime.

Carolyn came into the kitchen as Phyllis was browning the sandwiches in a large frying pan. “I was just going to see about some lunch,” she said. “I knew you and Sam were back, but I thought you might be helping him carry things in from the car.”

“There really wasn’t that much,” Phyllis said. “How’s Eve?”

“Slowly getting better. I got her working on some needlework. I think it takes her mind off of everything that’s happened.”

It was also unlike Eve, Phyllis thought. Eve had never had the patience for crafts. She liked to be out doing things, rather than sitting quietly.

“I can tell she still has her dark moments,” Carolyn went on, “but that’s to be expected, I suppose.”

“Yes, certainly,” Phyllis agreed.

“Did those people from the bed-and-breakfast have anything to say?”

For a moment Phyllis considered sharing the ideas she and Sam had come up with. She decided not to, however. It was too early in the investigation, and Carolyn might say something to Eve about it, getting her hopes up prematurely. At this point, Phyllis had no reason to think that either Jan or Pete had killed Roy . . . only that they
might
have.

Phyllis settled for saying, “Mr. Delaney wasn’t there. And Jan just said to give her best to Eve.” She held out one of the plates to Carolyn. “Do you think you could get her to eat some of this sandwich?”

“I can certainly try,” Carolyn declared. She marched out of the kitchen like a woman on a mission.

Phyllis was on a mission, too, but it didn’t involve food. Its only goal was to find a killer and clear Eve’s name.

* * *

After lunch, Phyllis went into the living room and sat down at the computer in the corner. She didn’t turn the monitor on immediately, though. Instead she took a legal pad and a pen from one of the drawers in the desk and wrote down five names.

Alice Jessup

Frank Pitt

Ingrid Pitt

Henry Mitchum

Rhonda Mitchum

She paused for a moment, frowning in thought, and then wrote down two more names, those of Jan and Pete Delaney. She didn’t consider the five people who were staying at the bed-and-breakfast to be possible suspects in Roy’s death, as she did with Jan and Pete—the Mitchums couldn’t be, because they hadn’t even arrived at the place until after the murder—but she wanted to know more about them anyway. It was a matter of being thorough. After another brief hesitation, she added Julie Porter’s name to the list and then finally wrote down one final name.

Roy Porter

The real Roy Porter, not the one they had believed they knew, Phyllis thought. Was it a mere coincidence of similar age and appearance that had led “Roy” to adopt the other man’s identity? Or was it possible there was some other connection between the two men, something that would provide a reason for the fake Roy’s death?

Phyllis considered that unlikely, but again, it was something she wanted to look into.

She was about to turn on the monitor when she heard a car door close outside. A glance through the front window showed her Juliette Yorke’s SUV parked at the curb and the lawyer herself coming toward the house. Juliette’s breath fogged in the cold air in front of her face. Phyllis got up and went to meet her at the door.

Juliette didn’t look particularly upset, Phyllis thought, but she certainly wasn’t jubilant, either, so it was probably too much to hope for that the investigators had found Roy’s killer and the charges against Eve had been dropped.

“Hello,” Phyllis said. “Come in. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, I guess,” Juliette said. “I have some news for Eve.”

“Good news, I hope?” Phyllis didn’t really believe that was what was coming, but it didn’t hurt to hope.

With a solemn little smile on her lips, Juliette shook her head. “No, not good news,” she said, “but not bad news, either. At least, not as bad as she’s been getting. More like expected news.”

“Well, come on in. Eve’s upstairs.”

Phyllis took Juliette’s coat as Juliette went on, “I suppose I could have just called her, but I wanted to see her, too. To find out how she’s holding up.”

“I haven’t seen much of her myself,” Phyllis said. “She’s been holed up in her room. But Carolyn’s spending quite a bit of time with her.”

“Good,” Juliette said with a nod. “Maybe that keeps her from brooding too much.”

Before all this happened, Phyllis would have said that Eve wasn’t the type to waste even a minute brooding about anything. Eve had never suffered quite the same level of shocks as she had recently, though. Even when those earlier husbands of hers died and she came under suspicion in their deaths, she had never been arrested and charged with their murders. She had been considerably younger then, too.

“I’ll tell her you’re here,” Phyllis said. “Unless you’d rather go up to her room and speak to her in private.”

Juliette shook her head. “Oh, no, that’s all right. We can talk down here. This is nothing that you and the others can’t hear.”

“All right. I’ll be right back.”

She climbed the stairs and went to the door of Eve’s room. When she knocked, Eve called, “Come in.”

Phyllis opened the door to find Eve sitting in the rocking chair while Carolyn sat in the other chair. Both of them were doing needlework. Carolyn was saying, “Now, if you’ll just tighten up those stitches a little—”

“What is it, dear?” Eve asked Phyllis.

“Juliette is downstairs and wants to talk to you.”

“Oh. All right.” Eve put the needlework aside with what seemed to Phyllis like eagerness and stood up. “Should I go downstairs, or should she come up here?”

“She said there was nothing private about it.”

“Fine. I haven’t been downstairs today. I suppose I should make the effort.”

Eve was starting to look and sound more like herself, Phyllis thought. True, it was just flashes so far, but that was better than nothing.

“I suppose we can come back to this later,” Carolyn said as she set her own needlework on the dresser.

By the time the three of them got downstairs, Sam was in the living room talking to Juliette. “I’d be glad to,” he was saying.

Juliette said, “Fine. I’ll let you know the dimensions. Thank you, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Call me Sam. And it’s my pleasure.”

Juliette turned to Eve and asked, “How are you feeling today?”

Eve smiled faintly. “Well, I suppose that’ll depend to a certain extent on what you’ve come to tell me, dear.”

“It’s nothing we weren’t expecting. The arraignment will be Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

Eve nodded. “Do I need to be there?”

“It’s not absolutely necessary. As your attorney I can enter a plea for you, but it would be better if you were there. For appearance’s sake.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Eve said.

“We all will,” Carolyn said.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Juliette said. “A show of support for the media. I’m not trying to influence the jury pool . . . Oh, who am I trying to kid? Of course I am. So is the district attorney. That’s why Sullivan—”

Juliette stopped short. When she didn’t go on, Phyllis said, “That’s why Sullivan did what?”

Juliette looked uncomfortable, but she shrugged and said, “He had a news conference this morning to announce the arraignment. Actually, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it already.”

“We’ve all been busy,” Phyllis said.

“Yes, Carolyn and I have been doing needlework samplers,” Eve said.

“Sullivan’s just trying to make it look like he’s right on top of everything and handling the whole case himself. Like a tough district attorney.”

Carolyn said, “Yes, as if prosecuting a harmless old woman makes him tough on crime.”

Eve winced a little at that description of herself, but she didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said, “I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.”

Carolyn turned to her. “But you’ve been wronged—”

“I said I don’t want people feeling sorry for me. I made my own choices, just like I always do, and if Roy fooled me, it’s my own fault for being so gullible. I’m not some dotty old lady who can’t think for herself.”

“No one has claimed that you are,” Carolyn said.

Eve looked at Juliette and went on, “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t make me look feeble and defenseless.”

“We have to be careful about what image we present—,” Juliette began.

“I don’t present an image,” Eve said. “I am who I am.”

Phyllis tried not to smile. Eve was sounding more like herself by the minute.

“I didn’t kill Roy,” Eve went on, “but if I had found out the truth about what he was trying to do, I might have.”

It was Juliette’s turn to wince. She shook her head and said, “You definitely don’t need to be saying things like that, especially in public. Here among your friends it’s one thing, but—”

Eve interrupted her again. “If it comes to a trial, I don’t want a jury voting to acquit me because they feel sorry for me. I won’t play the poor-little-old-lady card, Juliette, and if you try to, I swear I . . . I’ll stand up in court and fire you right there on the spot!”

Juliette met Eve’s intense gaze for a moment before nodding. “I believe you would, too,” she said. “All right, Eve. You’re the client, which means you’re the boss.”

“Darned right I am.”

“As long as it doesn’t go against my best legal judgment,” Juliette went on. “If that happens, then maybe we will have to come to a parting of the ways. But I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Eve smiled. “It won’t, dear. I like you.”

“Anyway, we’ll meet at the courthouse at eight thirty Monday morning, okay?”

“We’ll all be there,” Phyllis promised. “Have you heard any more about the investigation?”

A bleak look came over Juliette’s face. “At this point, the investigation is closed. The sheriff’s department has turned over everything to Sullivan’s office. They believe they have the killer, so that’s how they’re going forward.”

“They’re not questioning anyone else, looking for evidence to corroborate their theory?”

Juliette shook her head. “No, and that tells me they think they’ve got plenty already. Sullivan is confident of a conviction.”

Eve said, “Well, then, we’ll just have to prove him wrong, won’t we?”

“That’s right,” Juliette said, summoning up a smile. “And now that I’ve talked to you, Eve, and seen how you’ve gotten some fight back in you, I’m sure that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sam said.

Yes, that was the spirit, all right, Phyllis thought, but spirit wasn’t going to save Eve by itself. They needed evidence, too.