“Afternoon, miss.” She spoke with an Irish lilt. “May I help you?”
“No, thank you. I’m just on my way to talk to Mr. Jordan.”
“I believe he’s in his office,” she said. “Sorry about the door. Long day.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and fished around until she found a book of matches.
“I’m sure. You work here?”
“I do.”
“I guess you were here when the sheriff showed up?”
“Oh my, yes. Such goings on.” She moved closer and extracted a cigarette from the pack. “Everyone was in a state. Especially Miss Grace and Mr. Jordy.”
I didn’t have to prod much. She was full of the importance of what she knew.
“It must have been difficult.” I kept my voice friendly and noncommittal. “Did you talk to one of the deputies?”
She lit up and dropped the match on the ground, blowing out a stream of smoke. “No, they only spoke to the girls who take care of Cornwall Cottage.” Her smug smile lit up her pale green eyes. “No one asked me, so I didn’t say nothin’. Didn’t want to get him in trouble, he’s such a fine man and all. Tips me nice when I look after one of their guests.”
“Get who in trouble? One of what guests?”
She examined her cigarette and I knew I’d pushed too hard. “Oh. Well, nobody. I shouldn’t be talkin’ this way.”
I slid my purse off my shoulder and took a twenty out of my wallet. “I’d really like to know. Do you think you could tell me?”
She barely contemplated the money. No wrestling with her conscience before she took it and tucked it in her bra. I’d half-expected her to hold out for more.
“Dr. Dawson,” she said. “His school puts guests up here all the time and he comes round a lot.”
“He was here last night?”
She nodded. “With Miss Boo-vase. I’d finished up the dinner dishes and stepped out for a quick fag. Saw his car as he drove past me on the way to Cornwall Cottage.”
“What time?”
“About eleven. Just after she showed up.”
“He saw you?”
She colored again. “I didn’t have the porch light on, so I suspect he didn’t.”
“Did you see him leave?”
“No, but he stayed a while.” I waited and she added, “I overheard a couple of deputies who came into the dining room for coffee. They found…well, he’d been takin’ precautions, you see.”
Mick had been right. Still lovers. “A condom?”
She puffed on her cigarette. “Several.”
“Oh.” It was my turn to blush. “What’s your name?”
“Bridget. Why?”
“You need to tell the sheriff about seeing Dr. Dawson, Bridget.”
“Lord have mercy, no! I cannot!” She dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out under a heavy-soled shoe. “I’ll get in trouble. I’m not supposed to be smokin’ on the job. And Mr. Jordy will think I’ve been spyin’ on the guests.”
No point stating that Mr. Jordy would have been right.
“I’m sorry, but you have to. You won’t get in trouble. I’ll make it okay with Mr. Jordy. Come on.”
“No. Really, I can’t.”
I held out another twenty. “Please?”
She shrugged and took the money, then bent and picked up the cigarette butt and her match. I almost missed the sleight of hand as she tossed them behind a rhododendron next to the house. Probably not the first time.
I rang the doorbell as Bridget squirmed next to me, popping a breath mint in her mouth. Somehow she didn’t seem destined for a long period of employment at the Fox and Hound.
After I’d explained everything, Jordy handed me the phone and eyed Bridget. I called Bobby Noland, whom I’d known since we were kids. Now a detective with the Loudoun County Sheriff’s Department, he’d done a one-eighty since high school when he’d been a regular in the principal’s office. His decision to go into law enforcement surprised everyone except his mother, who claimed it was irrefutable proof that God answered prayers.
Bobby arrived in an unmarked cruiser a short while later, wearing jeans and a black polo shirt with the sheriff’s department logo embroidered on the pocket. He shook hands with Jordy and Bridget and nodded at me. We’d adjourned to the parlor where Grace had brought tea and scones, frowning at Bridget as she left the room.
Bobby took a scone but passed on tea. Then he got right down to it. “There’s crime scene tape all around that cottage, Lucie. What were you doing there? I could haul you in for messing around where you’re not supposed to be.”
If it had been anybody else but Bobby, I probably would have been intimidated. We had too much history together growing up. I knew his weaknesses and he knew mine.
“I didn’t go inside,” I said.
“You still shouldn’t have been there,” he said. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Valerie Beauvais was on her way to see me when her car went into the creek,” I said. “She wanted to talk to me about some of the wine that’s been donated for our auction.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I dropped by—in case she left anything behind. When I found her car this morning in the creek, I thought her accident was an accident. How was I supposed to know you put crime scene tape up?”
“Well, we did. So maybe that should have been your first clue the place was off limits.”
“I found a lug nut.”
“You found what?”
“A lug nut. At least, I think that’s what it is. By Cornwall Cottage.” For his benefit I added, “I didn’t touch it.”
“Let’s go take a look.” He didn’t sound happy.
“Before we go, there’s something else you should know.” I glanced at Bridget. “Go on, tell him. He won’t bite.”
Her cocky confidence had disappeared and her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Miss Boo-vase had a guest last night. I saw Dr. Dawson’s car drive by on his way to the cottage.”
If they’d found condoms, Bobby already knew Valerie had been with a man. Hard to tell if the identification of her visitor was news or not. His eyes met mine, giving away nothing, then slid to Bridget. “What time?”
She told him. He asked a few more questions and said to me, “Show me that lug nut now. Jordy, Bridget, thanks for your help.”
I set my dishes on the silver tray and nodded at Bridget. Jordy walked Bobby and me out.
“I promised Bridget she wouldn’t get in trouble if she told the truth,” I said. “I gave my word.”
Jordy sighed. “All right.”
“Thank you.”
When Bobby and I got to Cornwall Cottage, I showed him what I’d found. Turned out it was a lug nut, though Bobby said it didn’t mean it came from Valerie’s car. Still, he took photos with a digital camera and bagged it.
“I’ll bet you anything it’s from her wheel,” I said. “What about the other lug nuts? Did you find them?”
“You know I can’t say.”
“You didn’t, did you? That means this one’s really important.”
“No comment.”
We walked back to the parking lot. “Joe didn’t tamper with Valerie’s car, Bobby.”
“What was he doing here last night if he’s engaged to your cousin?”
“The engagement’s off.”
He rubbed a hand across his forehead and closed his eyes like he was trying to excise a headache. “Is that so? You know anything about Joe’s relationship with Valerie Beauvais? Whether or not it was sexual?”
I decided not to mention that Bridget had told me about the condoms. “I saw them together last night at her lecture at Mount Vernon. They kissed a couple of times, but that’s all I saw.”
He still held the bag with the lug nut between his thumb and forefinger. “I wonder if he was the only visitor she had,” he said. “Guess I’ll be talking to your cousin’s ex-fiancé.”
I nodded. More than one lover—I hadn’t thought of that. Either way, it didn’t look too good for Joe.
My answering machine beeped as I walked in the front door of my house just after six o’clock. Three messages. All from Katherine Eastman sounding increasingly irate.