In Cold Chamomile Read online

  “Take it easy now,” Callie said soothingly. “It will be all right.”

  “No, it won’t.” Mrs. Moffett pushed the next few words out with an effort. “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Callie echoed. Surely not another dead body at Haywood Hall. Everything inside her resented ever living through something like that again.

  “Dead?” Callie repeated once more. “You must be mistaken. You must have seen something, perhaps in the dimness of that room.” Yes, that was it! A trick of the eyes or the mind.

  But Mrs. Moffett shook her head emphatically. “He’s dead! He’s lying on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling. He looked kind of surprised. Like he couldn’t believe someone had dared to kill him. And there was blood nearby—oh!”

  She held her hand to her mouth. She kept her panicky eyes on Callie. “I know we all said that someday she’d kill someone. She’s fierce like that. But I never meant it. Not like she would really do it. Not—” She gasped again.

  Callie squeezed her shoulders. “Calm down now. Who’s dead?”

  “Our expert. Mr. King. I would never have guessed you could kill a tall, strong man just like that. He stood two heads over her! Maybe she never intended to. Maybe she just wanted to threaten him to put him in his place. And then—” Mrs. Moffett sucked in air. “It’s too horrible.”

  Callie said, “Are you certain that there is a dead body?”

  Before she could say more, Iphy appeared by her side. “People are saying there’s something wrong upstairs. Someone hurt or even dead. We should go up and have a look before things get out of hand.”

  “Mrs. Moffett here says she’s seen it.” Callie swallowed. “Another murder.”

  Iphy brushed her forehead. “That can’t be. Who would kill someone on such a nice day? A perfectly harmless event?”

  Callie tried not to think of Iphy’s own strange response to the appearance of Sean Strong, Peggy’s tearful departure, Quinn’s tension earlier, and Mrs. Forrester holding the scissors like she could just …kill someone with them.

  Yes. There had been a positively murderous look in her eyes.

  Telling herself not to draw any hasty conclusions, Callie focused on Mrs. Moffett. “We have to call the police.”

  “You do it.” Iphy nodded at Callie. “I’ll go in with Mrs. Moffett, and we will make sure nobody gets into that room. We don’t want people, especially children, seeing anything gruesome.”

  Mrs. Moffett whimpered as if she now realized it was too late for her, and she had already seen the gruesome thing. Iphy put a firm arm around her and led her away.

  Callie dug her phone from her pocket and hesitated a moment. The police station or Deputy Ace Falk’s cell phone? She had his number because he was …

  Sort of her boyfriend?

  Callie frowned as she didn’t really want to think about that issue right now. They were going out together every now and then, to have dinner or see a movie; they were having a good time together, having serious conversations or just talking about nothing really; and just feeling that they liked to be together. So why did she have to wonder why he had never officially asked her to be his girlfriend? Or why they were always going to other towns on their dates, almost as if they shouldn’t be seen together around Heart’s Harbor?

  Not to mention that after the sheriff’s unfortunate concussion on New Year’s Eve, Ace had been so busy leading things at the station that she had barely seen him at all.

  Callie shook her head. She didn’t need him privately now, but for business. Another murder case where she happened to be on the scene. How did that keep happening to her?

  She chose his cell phone number from her contact list and waited as the phone rang.

  “Hello?” She could hear wind blowing past the receiver, so she knew he was outside. Maybe on some case looking at evidence or searching for a fugitive?

  “Ace? It’s me, Callie. I’m at Haywood Hall for our Valentine’s event, and someone … died here.”

  There was a short silence. “Died? You’re serious?”

  “Yes, unfortunately I am. Mrs. Moffett just came to tell me. An expert we asked to come evaluate old books died, and Mrs. Moffett is certain he was murdered. I haven’t seen the body so I can’t tell.”

  “And you are not going to see the body either. Stay away from it, please.” Ace sounded pleading. “I will come over right away. You know the drill. No touching, no interfering. And nobody leaving.”

  Callie thought of Peggy, who had rushed off in tears moments before they had heard about the murder, but she didn’t want to tell Ace that Peggy was upset about something—or rather, someone—and that someone was Quinn.

  When Quinn had first come to town, Ace had been suspicious of him, and Callie didn’t want the protective deputy to think that Quinn had somehow hurt his sister. Ever since Peggy had lost her husband and was raising her sons alone, Ace had tried to do anything he could to help them, and he would never allow anyone to harm them in any way. Callie was sure Quinn hadn’t meant to hurt Peggy either, but still, she had raced off in a state of great distress.

  What a mess!

  “Callie?” She heard Ace’s voice with an urgent undertone.

  “Yes, I heard what you said, and I understand. I’ll see you later.” She disconnected and went inside to tell everyone to stay put as the police were coming in for an investigation of what had happened in one of the upstairs rooms. She wasn’t going to call it a murder right away, but deep down inside she knew it could hardly be anything else. So much for their celebration of love.

  Chapter Four

  When Callie heard the sirens outside, she headed into the hallway to meet Ace the moment he came in. As always it struck her how capable he looked in uniform, how determined. But the moment their eyes met, she saw the concern for her there and the disbelief that murder had found their little town again. He came over with long strides, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to wrap an arm around her. Then he seemed to remind himself he was on duty and stood stiff and straight in front of her. “Where’s the body?”

  “Upstairs. I’ll take you to it.”

  They walked up the carpeted steps, and as they went, she felt his hand brush hers a moment. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Like I said, I didn’t see the body, so it was just the shock of hearing that someone had died. The event was … well, rife with tension might be a bit much to say, but I did notice some people behaving oddly.”

  “Good, keep that in mind to tell me later. Every little detail might turn out to be important. These events with lots of people around are, of course, a nightmare for a police investigation. So many fingerprints around, traces—Forensics won’t be happy.” Ace glanced at her. “I’ll take a look at the body first and talk to the person who found it.”

  “Mrs. Moffett,” Callie said with a sigh. “You know her and how people even call her “The Shadow.” She doesn’t like being in the spotlight. And she’s so upset, I wonder if you’ll get much out of her.”

  “How did she happen to stumble upon the body? Did she tell you?”

  “I had the impression she wanted to ask Mr. King a question and went into a room she had seen him enter earlier. There he was, dead on the floor.” She frowned hard. “She mentioned something to me about her never having believed she—meaning some other woman—was capable of killing. That she looked fierce enough for it, but still …”

  “She? The killer is a woman? Did Mrs. Moffett see her? Perhaps she noticed a woman exiting the room just as she approached to find this expert and ask her question?”

  “Possibly. I have no idea who she meant.” As Callie said it, she knew it wasn’t the absolute truth. It made sense to think Mrs. Moffett would speak of someone she knew well. Was there anyone she knew better than her boss at the library, Mrs. Forrester? And Mrs. Forrester had been waving those scissors like …

  Callie shook her head. No need to speculate. Mrs. Moffett would tell Ace exactly what she had see
n. Then he could draw his own conclusions.

  They came to the top of the stairs, and Callie looked in both directions. She saw Iphy and Mrs. Moffett down the corridor to her left, waiting in front of a door. Apparently that room had been assigned to Mr. King to put his things in and retreat to when he needed a break. Mrs. Forrester had taken care of that.

  So she had known exactly where to find him alone?

  Callie shook her head at her own morbid thoughts. She waved Ace along to the two waiting women. Mrs. Moffett stood with her head down, sobbing into her hands.

  As Callie approached, she heard Iphy say, “You will have to tell him everything. There is no other way.”

  Callie’s heartbeat stuttered. Had Mrs. Moffett considered holding something back from the police, from Ace? Why? Did she know more about the death than she wanted to admit?

  Or was she considering shielding someone?

  If she had really seen Mrs. Forrester leave the room right before she had gone up to the door …

  Her boss, someone she had worked with for many years. Someone she might consider a friend, even though she was a bit dominant. Not a likeable personality, but not exactly a cold-blooded criminal either.

  What a dilemma to face.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Moffett,” Ace said in a kind tone. “I heard you had quite a shock.”

  Mrs. Moffett looked up at him and rubbed her nose with her soggy handkerchief. “That’s right, Deputy. I feel all shaky. I don’t know quite what to say or do.”

  “How about you tell me slowly, and step by step, what happened this afternoon?” Ace suggested. He had produced a notebook and pen, and eyed the woman expectantly.

  Iphy said, “Really, Deputy, she’s had quite a lot to work through and is barely able to stand up. Can’t we sit down somewhere quiet to talk?”

  Ace looked over his shoulder and called out to one of his men. When he approached. Ace instructed, “In there is the body. Don’t let anyone in except for the doctor as soon as he arrives. I’ll speak to this prime witness first.”

  Mrs. Moffett shrank under the words prime witness and looked at Callie with wide, tear-stained eyes, pleading for help. She was obviously not used to being the center of attention, and certainly not a focal point for the police.

  Callie put her hand on the woman’s arm. “Iphy is right—you need to sit down. Let’s go into this room.” Being familiar with Haywood Hall’s layout, she took Mrs. Moffett to the nearby billiard room and opened the door for her.

  Ace, who followed them closely, whistled as he stepped inside. “I’d love to lay down a game of pool here some time.”

  Callie shook her head at him, as this was hardly the time to discuss something like that, but to be honest, she’d love to play pool with him, and especially here. She didn’t claim to be very good at it, but she had played it quite a few times at hotels that had a billiard table, and she enjoyed the game. Most of all, she enjoyed beating men who believed women couldn’t play pool. She didn’t want to say Ace would have such prejudices, but even so …

  Mrs. Moffett sank into one of the three leather chairs grouped around the fireplace and buried her face in her hands again. Her shivery breathing filled the silence.

  Iphy, who had come in with them, stood beside her and rested her hand on her shoulder. She looked at Ace and mouthed, “Easy does it.”

  Ace nodded with a reassuring look and sat down opposite the two women. He rested his notebook on his knee and said, “You were here to assist with the book part of the event, Mrs. Moffett?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Moffett lifted her head. “It’s called Fall in Love with Books, and we thought up such good ideas for it. We’re doing a book swap, you know, where you can exchange a book you’ve read for something new, and we had this expert come over to determine the value of old books. Mr. King came in rather late, and he was quite demanding. I thought to myself, His name is King and he behaves like a king, expecting us to run for him at his every beck and call. I wouldn’t let him know how I felt, of course. He was our guest of honor. Mrs. Forrester has talked about him incessantly since asking him to come over and him agreeing. He had a young man with him who helps him. I can’t remember his name. But he is very efficient. And not at all stuck up like Mr. King was.”

  Ace took notes. “You met the expert on his arrival?”

  “No, Mrs. Forrester handled that. She was very proud of herself that she had signed him up for the event. He’s on TV sometimes, you know, in one of those shows where people bring in buys from junk sales, hoping they turn out to be a real antique treasure. I bet if I tried it, mine would be worth nothing. But sometimes you see people get the news they really have something big.”

  “I think I saw a bit of that once,” Ace said in a pleasant, conversational tone. “Those experts really know their stuff.”

  Mrs. Moffett nodded and sat up. “He was supposed to be the afternoon’s star attraction.”

  Callie tried to keep a straight face, as she was certain the musical bit with baroque orchestra and famous baritone had been advertised as the event’s highlight, but apparently Mrs. Forrester had liked to think she had brought in the main star.

  “I have to admit,” Mrs. Moffett said in a tone as if she was sorry, “that it got on my nerves how she went on about him, especially after I saw him in the flesh.” She twisted her soggy handkerchief. “He was a rather ordinary man with dyed hair, you know. In fact, nothing about him seemed particularly real.”

  She frowned hard. “Even his signet ring struck me as bought from a site to engage in those live role-plays where everyone is a knight, highwayman, or princess with ladies-in-waiting. My grandson is completely wrapped up in that world. He has a collection of medieval swords and things, all replicas of course.”

  “Of course.” Ace nodded. Callie bet he was slightly confused by this sidetrack but didn’t want to pull the woman back to the facts with a direct question. She seemed to forget about her shock a little now that she was telling her side of it, and he obviously wanted her to keep going. Mrs. Moffett said, “I thought he was rather stuck up and unreal, but Mrs. Forrester praised him to me and to his face. It was rather embarrassing how she tried to please him, offering him a room where he could retreat if he wanted to. And he just looked at her down that long nose of his as if he was laughing at her secretly. It was very unpleasant.”

  She shivered. “I was glad I didn’t have to work with him, like that poor young man. Just before it started, he yelled at him. Really yelled at him. Not spoke with a raised voice, no—shouting. And cursing too. Such an unpleasant character.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and then suddenly her expression fell. Her features crumpled, and she gasped, raising a hand to her lips. “And now he’s dead. I’m so sorry. One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, of course.”

  “On the contrary, Mrs. Moffett,” Ace said quietly, “it can really help if you paint me as complete a picture of the deceased as you possibly can. I do understand you hardly knew him, but you seem very observant, and every tiny bit of information can help solve this crime.”

  Mrs. Moffett relaxed a bit. “Oh,” she said as if she couldn’t grasp the concept of her story being important. “Oh.”

  A flush of gratitude or actual excitement rose in her cheeks. “I see.” She sat up again. “Well, he shouted at that poor young man because of something he hadn’t put ready on the table. A loupe or something. And that young man shrank and crouched behind the table to look for it. It was like he wanted to crawl into a corner. So very sad for a grown man, don’t you think? I remember saying to myself that it had to be very crushing for one’s self-esteem to work for someone who is always finding fault.”

  Callie wondered a moment if Mrs. Moffett knew this from her own experience. After all, Mrs. Forrester could also be considered someone who always looked for and found shortcomings in her fellow beings.

  Ace nodded. “So this expert was a man who looked down on other people, you’d say.”

  “And
grossly overrated his own talent.” Mrs. Moffett nodded and leaned over as if she wanted to share something highly confidential. “He gave ridiculously low values to those books. I’m no expert myself, but I felt like those people were really robbed.”

  Callie looked at Iphy, who shook her head as if to indicate that Mrs. Moffett had to be in the wrong here. After all, people usually thought their old stuff was worth much more than it turned out to be.

  “He sat down to work then, and there were people around, so no harm came to him there,” Ace said.

  “Certainly not,” Mrs. Moffett said with a snort. “When he left the room, he was alive and well, bumping into someone, almost stepping on their foot and not even excusing himself.”

  “So he left for a short break—and then?”

  “He didn’t come back.” Mrs. Moffett widened her eyes. “Mrs. Forrester went after him, but even she couldn’t persuade him to come back. And then … he was dead. I found him. I didn’t go near him, I didn’t touch anything. But the way he lay there … Nobody lies on the floor like that. I ran out again, and I looked for Callie to tell her about the dead body.”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to clutch his pen. “Why Callie? Why not Mrs. Forrester?”

  Mrs. Moffett looked startled. “I … uh … I thought I should report to one of the organizers of the event.”

  Callie tilted her head, unsure what it was in the woman’s tone that didn’t strike her as genuine. Was she fudging the truth?

  “Where was Mrs. Forrester at that time?” Ace asked.

  Mrs. Moffett smoothed her wet handkerchief. “I have no idea. I ran down and found Callie and told her what I had seen. She asked me to wait inside with Iphy while she called you.” Mrs. Moffett exhaled as if she was glad to be done. “Can I go now? I have a terrible headache and want to lie down in my own bed.”