As soon as she said that, my stomach sank. It was exactly as I had feared. The police knew.
Randy looked from Aunt Winnie to me and then to Peter for clarification. “Who’s Marion?” he finally asked.
Aunt Winnie sighed. “Marion is one of my oldest friends. I’ve known her since I was sixteen. Years ago she married a man by the name of Danny Baker. Well, Danny was a big hulking jerk, but Marion fell for him.” Aunt Winnie shook her head sadly. “No matter how boorish or obnoxious Danny was, Marion would stand up for him and say he was just misunderstood. Because she seemed to love him so much, I tried to keep my mouth shut. But then Marion started showing up with bruises. She always had an excuse—she fell or tripped or some sort of other silly story. I became suspicious, of course, but Marion never said a word against Danny. I tried to do what I could, but she was completely under his spell. Then one day, I’ll never forget it, Marion showed up at my house sobbing hysterically. It was awful. She was a mere slip of a thing and Danny had beaten her within an inch of her life. One of her eyes was swollen shut, her lip was split, and her jaw was purple and raw. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. In her arms was her beloved little dog, Pixie. He was dead. Danny had apparently flown into a rage because the dog had gotten into the trash can. Danny had snapped his neck.”
Aunt Winnie fell silent at her memory of the broken dog’s limp body. “Marion had tried to protect the dog, so Danny went after her as well. Seeing Danny kill Pixie made Marion finally realize what a monster Danny was. She had come to me to ask for help in getting her things out of the house while Danny was at work. Of course, I said yes. As far as I was concerned her life was in danger.” Aunt Winnie’s eyes flickered uneasily in Randy’s direction before continuing. “We were getting ready to leave when Danny returned home, drunk. When he realized that Marion was leaving him, he flew into a rage. And that’s when I pulled out my gun. Danny was a rather large man and I wasn’t taking any chances.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Randy. “You had a gun?”
“Yes. As I said, it was a long time ago, and I thought I needed it for protection.” She added defensively, “I took the recommended classes and was very careful with it!”
“I’m not judging you,” said Randy. “I’m just surprised.”
“Well,” Aunt Winnie continued with a shrug, “once Danny saw the gun, he calmed down. I explained that Marion was leaving and that he had better not try anything. I thought he was going to let us leave, but at the last minute he lunged at me and I … fired.”
“Jesus!” said Randy. “Did you kill him?”
“Of course not!” Aunt Winnie snapped. “I’m an excellent shot! I nicked him on the leg so he couldn’t chase us. I knew what I was doing. Trust me, if I’d wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.”
Her words hung in the air. No one said anything.
“Which is why, I suppose,” she finally continued, “that things might look a little dark against me now. I have a record. I was charged with assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and about six other things I’ve forgotten. Of course, they dropped them once they learned what had actually happened, but the fact remains that the police know that I know how to use a gun, I’m a very good shot, and I don’t put up with bastards.”
“But that was a completely different situation,” I said. “You were defending yourself. Your life was in danger.”
“Yes, but our local detective seems to be channeling the intellectual prowess of Inspector Clouseau. He’s looking at that incident and coming away with a very different impression. Therefore, I’ve resolved that I must find out who the killer is. I want whoever did this caught and put away, and soon. I have to clear my name so people will feel comfortable staying at Longbourn. In short, I want my life back.”
“You’re right,” said Randy, extending his hand to her. “And I’ll do anything to help.”
“I know you will.” Taking his hand, she smiled softly at him.
“And so will Elizabeth and I,” said Peter. “We’re a part of this team, too.”
It was odd to hear Peter speak of us as a team. But this whole weekend had been one odd experience after another. Then Peter suggested we move to the kitchen to discuss what we knew while he cooked us dinner, and I was forced to add yet another odd experience to my list.
An hour and a half later, we were still in the kitchen drinking coffee after finishing remarkably good chicken Marsala. The aroma of sautéed mushrooms mingled with chicken and wine still hung in the air. I stirred some sugar into my coffee.
“Thank you again for dinner, Peter,” said Aunt Winnie. “It was very good.”
“My pleasure,” he replied. “I was just lucky that you happened to have all the ingredients for the one meal I can make.”
“Speaking of which, I think I’d better restock,” said Aunt Winnie. “I’m not sure how long Detective Stewart is going to keep everyone here, but however long, I’m going to have to feed them. I’d better make a run into town tomorrow.”
“I’ll do that for you, Aunt Winnie,” I said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Peter. I looked at him in surprise, but he ignored me. “Now, for everyone’s ideas about the murder,” he continued. “Does anyone have a favorite suspect they’d like to share with the group?” He smiled as he said this, but his tone was grim.
Lauren was my bet. Could she have ever loved Gerald? They were such complete opposites—and not in the charming way that some people say “attract”—that I found myself agreeing with the local gossip: she must have married him for his money. Plus there was her phone call on the night of the murder. In addition, her behavior and appearance today were about as far as you could get from a grieving widow. Emotionally cool was a better description. I said as much.
“You may be right,” said Aunt Winnie thoughtfully. “But then again, if Lauren did have something to do with it, wouldn’t it make more sense for her to appear distraught?”
“And, as much as you may personally want to, you can’t condemn her simply because she’s a beautiful woman,” said Peter.
“I’ll admit that you both have a point,” said Randy. “But Lauren is not, shall we say, the cleverest of women. It may not have occurred to her that she should wear black and cry a lot.”
“Which is only another point in Lauren’s defense,” said Peter. “She just doesn’t strike me as clever enough to pull something like this off.”
Aunt Winnie nodded in agreement.
Randy looked unconvinced. “Perhaps, but there’s something else.” He paused. “I feel funny telling you this, like I’m breaking a kind of trust, but Lauren was in my store a few weeks ago. She bought several books dealing with legal contracts—prenuptial agreements, to be specific.”
“Really?” said Aunt Winnie. “That is interesting. If Lauren wanted out of the marriage but was bound by an ironclad prenup, then she had an excellent motive for killing Gerald.”
“I would have thought just living with Gerald was motive enough,” I added.
“I agree with you there,” said Peter. “The question becomes, then, whether Lauren wanted out because Gerald was so odious or because someone else was so attractive.”
For some unknown reason, they all looked at me. Well, not for some unknown reason. I knew damn well why they were all looking at me: Daniel. I refused to let them get to me.
“You’re blushing, dear,” Aunt Winnie said mildly, as she sipped her coffee. Peter rolled his eyes in disgust.
I ignored them both. “Well, how do we go about finding out whether Lauren was considering divorcing Gerald?”
“My niece works in a law office in town,” said Randy. “The paralegals are all very chummy. She might be able to help us.”
“Isn’t that privileged information?” asked Peter.
“Probably,” said Randy, as he thoughtfully stroked his white beard, “but it’s still worth checking into.”
“What about Polly?” I asked.
“What about her?” said Peter. “You think she might know if Lauren was planning to divorce Gerald?”