“There was no indication of dementia, either,” Del said. “It’s clear from the autopsy results that she died from an overdose of sleeping pills and alcohol. Her sons and housekeeper confirmed that Clarisse seemed disturbed about something prior to her death, but she kept the reason to herself.”
Olivia slowly twirled her half-full wineglass by its stem and watched the contents slosh up the side like tiny red waves. “I can’t tell you how many times I had dinner at Clarisse’s home, with Bertha watching over us. Clarisse would usually have a glass of red wine. It took the entire meal for her to finish it, and sometimes she didn’t. She showed much more enthusiasm for her after-dinner espresso.”
“Which Bertha confirmed,” Del said. “But remember that the night of her death Clarisse had asked Bertha to bring an entire bottle of red wine, uncorked, to her study. Then she closed the study door and kept it closed until Bertha went upstairs to bed at ten. All of which was, according to Bertha, uncharacteristic. So something was up.”
A sliver of an idea poked at Olivia’s mind, and she struggled to make it whole. She had seen enough to agree that something was bothering Clarisse and that her behavior had been uncharacteristic. Yet even those closest to her seemed unable to give a reason. Or were unwilling to do so. Either Clarisse was trying to think through and solve a problem by herself, or someone was holding back information.
“What was Clarisse’s alcohol level?” Olivia asked. “Can you find out that kind of thing after . . .?”
“Up to a point, but not very accurately,” Del said. “Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
“Very sure.”
“Well then, the ME found she’d consumed some alcohol, but there wasn’t a whole bottle’s worth in her system. If she drank the wine over a long period, some of it would have metabolized.”
Shaking her head, Olivia said, “I cannot imagine Clarisse guzzling down an entire bottle of wine under any circumstances. I doubt she’d have been conscious to even take the pills.”
“Well, there were high levels of a sleeping pill, eszopicione, in her system,” Del said. “Also, the same drug was found in the wine dregs, both in the empty bottle and her glass. And only Clarisse’s fingerprints found on both. Bertha confirmed that Clarisse had trouble swallowing pills, so she always ground them up and dissolved them in liquid.”
Olivia closed the lid on the empty pizza box, scrunched it in half, and tried to stuff it in her kitchen wastebasket. It wouldn’t fit. With a hard push, she crammed it farther down.
“I’m sorry, Livie,” Del said. “Clarisse Chamberlain was a remarkable woman, but we all make mistakes. Sometimes a mistake is fatal.”
Olivia stared at her overstuffed wastebasket, wishing she could be satisfied with never knowing.
“Here, let me take that,” Del said, nodding toward the wastebasket. “I’ll empty it on my way out and leave it outside the alley door.” He put on his uniform jacket and hat. “Anyway, I’m relieved there’s no clear evidence of suicide. Got a call today from an insurance investigator, and I told him as much. That won’t stop him from coming here to investigate for himself. Clarisse had a pretty hefty life insurance policy, which wouldn’t pay off in the case of suicide. But it’ll be tough to make a case for suicide with no note and no health or business problems.” Del lifted the full wastebasket. “Anyway, I hope so.”
With Spunky under her arm, Olivia led the way downstairs to the front door. Her hand on the doorknob, she asked, “Do her sons inherit everything?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but nothing stays a secret around here for more than a minute or two. I’d swear the police station is bugged.” Del grimaced and shook his head. “So the answer to your question is yes, the bulk of her estate goes to Hugh and Edward equally. She left Bertha a tidy sum, too, and made some bequests to her favorite charities.” He gave Olivia a quick smile. “Including the Yorkie rescue group you got Spunky from.”
At the sound of his name, Spunky squirmed in Olivia’s arm, his paws reaching toward Del. “He’s probably trying to grab the pizza box,” Olivia said. “Or planning his next escape.” She held the door open for Del and breathed in the cool, damp air, scented with lilacs.
As Del stepped through the entryway, he paused and said, “One more thing.”
The porch light brought out gold flecks in Del’s brown eyes. Olivia felt a rush of awareness.
“In case that brain of yours starts wondering if Clarisse was somehow murdered, both her sons have alibis. They were attending a conference in Baltimore.”
Chapter Seven
Olivia possessed three dresses, none of which had she worn for almost a year. Early in their marriage, Ryan had always complimented her when she wore a dress. Over time, his response had changed. He began to ignore her in a dress and criticize her appearance if she wore anything else. After their divorce, she had given away most of her dresses, keeping only the three she actually liked.
When Tammy first commanded her to appear, wearing a dress, at a Sunday afternoon gathering, soirée, tea party, whatever, Olivia’s first instinct was to roll her eyes and vow to wear jeans. But that was before she had a plan.
The previous evening, Del had assured her that Clarisse wasn’t murdered. He’d made sense at the time, but the more she thought about, the less convinced she felt. Murder could be made to look like an accident or suicide. And murder as the cause of death made more sense, or at least it did to Olivia. Clarisse had amassed an enviable fortune. Her extraordinary success in business hadn’t been luck. She was capable of what some might call ruthlessness in her decisions to close businesses that didn’t perform to her expectations, and she had acquired failing businesses as cheaply as possible. She was never cruel, only practical and single-minded. Olivia had loved and admired Clarisse without ever wanting to be exactly like her.
Even if Hugh and Edward had airtight alibis, surely there were others who were resentful, who felt they had suffered at Clarisse’s hands. Lucas Ashford, for instance—though she wouldn’t mention that to Maddie without scads of proof. And, not to doubt Del’s police work, but what about Hugh and Edward? How thoroughly had he checked their alibis?
Olivia was willing to bet that Del had considered, then dismissed, the possibility of murder. He loved Chatterley Heights; the last thing he’d want was a sensational murder investigation involving a highly respected family, especially one with businesses that provided jobs for the town’s citizens. Times had been tough recently.
Without clear evidence of foul play, Del would resist digging any deeper. However, he took his job seriously. He might listen if Olivia gave him a reason to do so. She wouldn’t talk about her suspicions to Del until she had something to back them up.
Really, did Maddie have to choose this moment to fall in love and virtually disappear, right when she was needed? Maddie would listen, and no matter what Del thought, Maddie could keep secrets when she wanted to. Well, she’d be with Lucas at Tammy’s event, and Olivia intended to rip her from his arms and wrestle some help out of her.
If Tammy was throwing a shindig, Hugh Chamberlain would also be there, no matter how recent his bereavement. It was that simple. Tammy might seem flighty to some people, but Olivia knew her well. Inside the ruffles and the first-grade-teacher persona, the woman had a spine of tempered steel. Tammy knew what she wanted, and she wanted Hugh. So Hugh would be in attendance. Possibly Edward, too. And Olivia wanted very much to talk to both brothers.
Her plan required the right costume. Put in those terms, Olivia was more than happy to wear a dress.
There might be one snag, though. All three of her dresses were fitted at the waist. For the past eleven months, Olivia had been sampling, testing, and downright gobbling the sugary delicacies she and Maddie created for their store events. Every now and then her jeans felt a bit snug. Luckily, jeans were forgiving, especially if she washed them in cold water and let them air dry. Which was environmentally responsible, and naturally Olivia was a friend to the environment.