“Let’s go through our top suspects again.” Ray pulled down the whiteboard. “Starting with Richard Grubbs. He’s got motive….”
“Lots of motives,” interrupted Sue, “motive and opportunity.”
“And we’ve already talked about the fact that he’s been at the scene of both deaths. And three months ago, when I first encountered Wudbine, Grubbs jokingly said that if Malcolm ever ended up dead, we’d have an almost endless list of suspects.”
“Grubbs seems to be a kind, rational man,” said Sue. “But he’s only human. There’s got to be rage lurking below the surface. Could he have encouraged Brenda to put a little arsenic in Malcolm’s coffee?”
“Probably, he seems to be one of her few friends here. How about Pepper? And why did she send me all those documents?”
“She’s pissed. She wants revenge. So she’s breaking the code of silence and tossing out the dirty linen,” said Sue.
“Or maybe she thinks she is under suspicion. She’s trying to build some cover. But is she a killer?”
“Pepper was backstage, so she had opportunity. And there probably are multiple motives. She would have needed an accomplice. Could she have maneuvered Brenda into handling the power switch?”
“How about Alyson?” asked Ray. “Again, she’s the only southpaw in the group that I’ve noticed.”
“I’m impressed that you picked up on that particular characteristic.”
As was his custom, Ray let her comment pass. “I don’t know what her motive would be. She seemed to be Wudbine’s….”
“Femme du jour. Both Wudbine men seemed quite taken with her. Tom Lea puts her with Elliott. But could he be confused about the sequence of events?”
“A possibility. And then there’s Jill,” offered Ray.
“We just don’t know much about her. Could she manipulate Brenda into handling the power? Pepper said something about Jill trying to rehabilitate Brenda. That seems to be more hostile than friendly.”
“So,” said Ray, “a key element is how did the killer communicate with the person who turned off the lights. It had to be a cell phone.”
“I’ll do the paperwork on Brenda’s phone right now. The murder weapon should pave the way for the search warrant.”
“We need to keep the pressure on these people. Let’s try to be there by early afternoon.”
47
Pepper Markley met Ray at the door of Gull House.
“I thought you might be gone by now,” he said.
“Things change incredibly fast. Jill has decreed that the memorial service will be up here. There will be hundreds of the right kind of people coming in from out of state and various foreign locations. Lots of hotel arrangements and catering need to be looked after. Suddenly, I’m a greatly respected, exceedingly competent queen of logistics and once again a highly paid employee of Wudbine Investments.”
Ray noted the playfully wicked smile that accompanied her sarcastic tone. “When is this going to happen?”
“Right after Labor Day. We need to get the summer people out of town first. Then there will be adequate lodging available at the proper kind of places and adequate airline seats for those who must fly commercial. I trust you will want a seat close to the family at the memorial service. I can arrange that, Sheriff.”
“Right now I’ll settle for a brief conversation with Elliott Wudbine.”
“He’s down at his cottage. I expect him within the next fifteen minutes. They have a planning meeting scheduled here at 2:00. All of the stakeholders have been asked to help orchestrate the memorial service. And I do love that term, stakeholders. Sounds like they’re intending to kill Dracula. But, hey, someone already got Drac.” She giggled at her own joke. “Forgive my digression. Would you like to wait for Mr. Wudbine in the great room? I’ve already got coffee set up there.”
“That will be fine,” responded Ray.
Pepper escorted him, offering coffee, and then disappearing. Ray carefully surveyed the room. Sunlight flooded in the massive windows that faced the water. The doors were open, allowing the sound of wind and waves to enter the room. It struck him that the space was even more dramatic than he remembered. He walked to the piano, opened the lid, and gently, one at a time, pushed a few keys. The sound reverberated through the room.
He closed the lid and moved to the upright string bass. He walked around the instrument, studying the wooden stand that securely held it vertically.
“Do you play, Sheriff?” asked Richard Grubbs, walking across the thick white carpet.
“I wish. There was a beat-up old bass in the band room when I was in high school. The teacher showed me a couple of jazz progressions that I had fun experimenting with. That’s as far as it went. But I heard that your daughter is an excellent jazz musician.”
“I don’t know if that’s true these days. I’m not sure she’s played much in recent years. But there was a time when she was quite remarkable.”
“The bass is set up for a left-hand musician. I don’t think I noticed that your daughter was a southpaw.”
“That’s an interesting story, Sheriff. When Jill was just an infant she showed a preference for using her left hand. For some reason that bothered my late wife enormously. She was constantly moving Jill’s spoon or rattle to her right hand. The whole thing became a bone of contention between the two of us. I thought the child should be allowed to do what she wanted to do. But eventually my wife won out.
“My wife, she was a violinist, a very accomplished one. I imagine that’s where Jill gets her musical side. It sure doesn’t come from me. She started Jill in Suzuki when she was about four. It was a really fine school. They allowed the kids to experiment with different instruments before they settled on one to play. Jill quickly moved toward the violin, which pleased her mother. But the instrument she picked up and insisted on playing was this beautiful little quarter-size violin, setup for the left hand. They tried to move her to a right-hand instrument, and she absolutely refused. So Jill and her mother reached a compromise of sorts. Jill would play the violin, which her mother desperately wanted her to do, but she would play on the left-hand instrument.
“By the time she got to junior high, she had moved on to the string bass, leaving the violin behind. And in high school she started playing jazz exclusively. Not a popular move on the home front.”
“When did you and Jill become estranged?”
“Long ago, when she was in college. Her mother died of cancer. For some reason, she seemed to hold me accountable. It’s something I still don’t understand. Probably never will.”
Their attention was drawn to the sound of voices as people flooded through the double doors into the room.
Sterling Shevlin joined their group. Ray noted Shevlin’s flushed complexion and the smell of alcohol.
“We’ve all been pressed into service again, haven’t we?”
“This will be an easy one for you, Sterling. No casting involved. They just want you to get things organized. Elliot wants this service to have a very professional look,” explained Grubbs.
“Revenge from the grave. Malcolm’s last laugh.”
“You will cooperate?”
“Oh, absolutely, Grubby. I can be as disingenuous as the best of them.”
“Who’s attending this meeting?” asked Ray.
“Usual suspects. Isn’t that what you police say?” Grubbs laughed at his joke. “Sterling, here, and our summer minister of music, Dick Fulton. Hope enough people are staying on so we can put together a little choir. I think I have to find an organist. First I heard about this whole thing was late yesterday, and now we’re hurrying to get everything in place in less than three weeks.”
“Who invited you?” Jill Wudbine asked, her question directed at Ray. Elliott Wudbine was at her side, looking abashed.