Murder Under the Tree Page 7

  “Kill? Do you mean that?”

  “I shouldn't have said kill. But angry, you bet.”

  “I'm Kay Driscoll. What's your name?”

  She looked between the swinging dining room door that Lola just went out of and the kitchen door. “Chelsey.”

  “Chelsey, did Les have a new girl friend?”

  She looked at me kind of strange-like and shrugged her shoulders.

  “At the tea, Lola said the trays were marked for specific tables?”

  “They were. We have numbers for all the tables in the dining room. Sheila put the numbers of the tables on the trays.” Chelsey looked over at the kitchen door again. “I need to get back to the kitchen.”

  “Here. I'm going to write down my name and phone number if you remember anything else about the tea.”

  “Les told me once that something funny was—”

  Just then, the same muscular woman came out of the kitchen again and looked between Chelsey and me. She called out Chelsey's name and went back into the kitchen. “That's Sheila. She mustn't be kept waiting,” Chelsey said, with a roll of her eyes as she hustled into the kitchen. I had the feeling this wasn't the friendliest place to work.

  A minute later, Nancy came into the dining room followed by Lola. Maybe Lola had told her I was asking questions about Les and she wanted to see if I was still here.

  Her look was direct. Her sharp eyes had a warning of “back off” written in them. Then they quickly changed. Had I imagined that? “Hello, Mrs. Driscoll. Can I help you?”

  “I heard Les' autopsy results. I was wondering which foods had the peanuts.”

  She looked down at her watch. “As I told you before, it wasn't our food. This isn't any of your business.”

  “I feel like I have a part in all of this since I tried to save the man.”

  “I'm expecting a new resident in my office soon. You'll have to excuse me. Please show yourself out.”

  She turned around and left the dining room. There was more to Nancy than met the eye.

  Before I left Hawthorne Hills, I stopped off at Dr. Lee's office to find out why the food that was on Les' table wasn't saved. His office was dark.

  * * * *

  On the way home, I stopped at Goodman's and stocked up on Christmas gift wrap and bought a couple boxes of Christmas cards. I bought a scarf, similar to what Will gave to Frances' mom. It was on sale and a real steal. I tried on a few sweaters but had a hard time choosing one. I kept wondering what Chelsey had been about to tell me. Then I went into the book department and found a set of CDs called Italian for Beginners. I paid for my purchases and hurried to the car.

  As I approached our house, I saw a moving truck in Ted's driveway. I knew I should go over to welcome the new neighbors, but Will would be going back tomorrow with Andy and Rose until they all returned on New Year's Eve for Phil's gig. I could welcome whomever they were some other day.

  When I walked into the kitchen, there was a pile of games on the counter. It looked like someone wanted to spend the afternoon playing board games. The Game of Living, Evidence, Chess, and Masterbrain.

  Glancing at each of the titles made me think of Les' murder. The Game of Living: Investigating Les' murder would lead to setbacks, delays, and randomness thrown in to make everything more difficult. Foresight and focus would play just as big a part as evidence in this case. Evidence: It was done in the dining room, with peanut products, by the director, the girlfriend, the mystery writer, a resident, the doctor, or someone else. Which one? Which one? Chess: The dark side and me. Think long term before taking steps. Adapt to changing situations. Give up smaller wins for larger milestones later. Tenacity. Masterbrain: trying to divine the true nature of the murder through reasoning and logic. A hidden answer which must be brought to light.

  We started with “Living” and then went on to “Evidence.” We played until it started to get dark. Then while Andrew, Rose and I prepared dinner, Phil and Will began a game of chess.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, December 27

  Will, Andy, and Rose left after breakfast. I looked through the travel book on Italy. I'd need to get brochures, and lots of them. I took out the first language CD and started listening. We weren't going to go to Italy until summer. I'd have plenty of time to become fluent in Italian, or at least fluent enough to know how to ask the important things, like how much something costs or to how to order Tiramisu.

  Listen to this conversation. Then repeat each part. Buon giorno Signorino. “Buon...giorno Signorino,” I repeated. How do you say, Good day, Miss? “Buon giorno Signorino,” I said. The phone rang.

  “Kay.” It was Elizabeth. “Have you gone over to meet the new neighbors yet?”

  “I haven't had time to. Will and Andy just left.”

  “I baked carrot apple muffins this morning.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Really, Elizabeth. At nine o'clock in the morning.”

  “Okay, so I bought them. Let's go over and see who moved in.”

  “Don't you think it's a bit soon? Shouldn't we give them a little time?”

  “Deirdre and I are going over at ten o'clock. If you'd like to come...”

  “Okay, okay. I'll go.”

  * * * *

  We rang the doorbell. It felt strange standing at Ted's front door knowing someone else would answer it.

  “Weird vibes are radiating from this house,” Deirdre said.

  I smiled. “Maybe it hasn't been properly feng shui'ed.”

  “We'll have to see,” Deirdre said.

  A man with a tanned face, fair hair that was graying at the temples, and green eyes answered the door. “Hello, ladies.” He smiled an irrepressible, cheeky smile.

  Stunned, but still the first to speak, I said, “Hello. I'm Kay Driscoll from next door. These are my friends, Elizabeth and Deirdre.”

  We all shook hands. “Nice to meet you...Kay, Deirdre,” he hesitated, “Elizabeth.” I noticed he held Elizabeth's hand a few seconds longer. “My name is Robert...Robert Peterson.”

  There was an awkward pause. “We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” I continued. This was the distinguished man that I watched at Elizabeth's party. The one who had good taste in shoes and an expensive watch. I glanced down first at his wrist then at his shoes. A frown followed; old sneakers, no watch. He must be dressed-down for moving. I looked over at Elizabeth. Surely Elizabeth already knew him. He was at her party. But she just stood there. Why wasn't she opening her mouth?

  I nudged Elizabeth's elbow a little. “It's nice to meet you, Robert. These are for you,” Elizabeth said, handing over a basket of muffins. “I made them this morning.”

  I looked at the muffins, then glanced over at Elizabeth, and smiled to myself. I hoped an ingredient label didn't cling to any of the muffins.

  “How thoughtful, Elizabeth,” he said warmly, taking the basket from her. “They look delicious. Would you like to come in?”

  “We'd love to,” Deirdre said, peering past Elizabeth at the arrangement of the furniture.

  I gave Deirdre's sleeve a little tug. “You must have lots to do, Robert.”

  “I'm ready for a break. Please come in if you have the time.” Deirdre strode into the house, with Elizabeth following close behind.

  As I entered, I heard Elizabeth saying to Deirdre in a low voice, “I'm feeling some vibes also.”

  I looked at her. She winked and smiled.

  We walked into the living room. It was filled with boxes, in some places almost up to the ceiling. I always liked Ted's house. Robert's furniture was modern. Something you would see in Architectural Digest. He removed some packing paper from the sofa and chairs and straightened out the cushions.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said.

  Deirdre stood in the center of the room with her arms out, surveying the layout of the space. I sat at one end of the sofa, Elizabeth in the middle. Robert sat next to Elizabeth, looked at Deirdre, and then at me, and then back over at Elizabeth.


  “Where did you move from?” Deirdre stopped circling to ask.

  “Chicago,” he said, still looking at Elizabeth.

  “Did you know that your furniture should all be turned ninety degrees to face the northwest?”

  Everyone ignored Deirdre, especially Robert who was still staring at Elizabeth. Come on. Elizabeth was nice looking, but Robert didn't care if his apparent interest in Elizabeth was obvious. Too bad she would be engaged soon to John. “Where in Chicago?” I asked.

  “My wife and I had a condo facing Millenium Park, in the building across the street from the Chicago Cultural Center. If you know the area,” he added. I did know the area. Was it my imagination or did Elizabeth's shoulders slump when Robert mentioned his wife.

  “Your wife?” I asked.

  He continued. “She died last year after a lengthy illness. Chicago held too many memories.” He took his eyes off Elizabeth for the first time and looked towards the window.

  Elizabeth's face wore a look of empathy that seemed genuine. “I'm sorry,” she said.

  “And you moved here?” I asked. My inflection went up on the word here.

  “Kay, what's wrong with Sudbury Falls?” Elizabeth snapped, then smiled at Robert.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  He stood up. “Where are my manners? Would you like some coffee, tea?”

  Or me, I thought, looking over at Elizabeth. “Well...” Elizabeth began.

  “Didn't I see you at Elizabeth's party last week?” I asked. Elizabeth looked at me with a surprised look.

  “So you did.” He sat down again, shifted in his seat. I watched Robert as he prepared his reply. Was that a hint of sweat on his forehead?

  “I was driving past the house, and saw people going in and out of Elizabeth's home. And thought, why not?”

  I looked between Deirdre and Elizabeth and raised my eyebrows. Our new neighbor was an admitted party crasher.

  He smiled and continued. “See what the neighbors are like. Quite pleased I must say.”

  Elizabeth returned his smile, then looked down.

  I had never seen Elizabeth act shy before. Deirdre was being very quiet also.

  “Elizabeth, you were attending to your guests, I never had the chance to introduce myself. I only stayed a few minutes. I must say, I enjoyed your toast.”

  Creepy. It was like Deirdre read my mind and looked over at me. “I think it's time to go, and leave you to your unpacking,” Deirdre said.

  Elizabeth gave Deirdre a pleading look. Then I stood up and Deirdre and Elizabeth followed. We said our good-byes.

  After we got outside, Elizabeth gave a theatrical sigh. “That was sudden, Deirdre. And I must say...rude.”

  “Bad flow in there.” Deirdre sniffed.

  “A feng shui nightmare,” I whispered. Bad flow! Of course it would be until all the furniture was in place and the boxes out, and “worthy” colors chosen. Deirdre must have felt some bad vibes about Robert.

  I turned to Elizabeth and opined, “Elizabeth, don't you think it's a little weird that he came to your party uninvited because he saw others coming and going?”

  “Kay, you're too proper. There's something about that man I find fascinating.”

  “Elizabeth, he's old enough to be your father,” Deirdre said, which she followed with a not-that-that-ever-stopped-you look.

  “I know, I know. But something about him.”

  I sighed heavily. This conversation was starting to bore me.

  “Elizabeth, John—” Deirdre started.

  “I'm in love with John, but I think Robert is sexy! You two...deal with it!”

  With that, Elizabeth started across the street. I hadn't notice that she wore pumps over, in the snow. I wonder if she had had a glimpse of Robert prior to our meeting.

  Deirdre and I looked at each other, then started walking home.

  “Kay, since the guys are practicing tonight would you have time to start painting the shop. I think we'll have a few nights of work.”

  “Okay. This is a good time. The kids are gone. I wanted to discuss some things with you anyway, about the caretaker's death.”

  “We'll have plenty of time to talk. I'll pick you up at seven o'clock.”

  When we reached the end of my driveway, we turned towards Ted's house, and saw Robert still watching Elizabeth making her way, through the snow.

  “Something's not quite right with that guy,” Deirdre said. “Just a feeling I have.”

  “Ditto.”

  I came inside and looked at the time: eleven o'clock. Soon I had to think about going to Hawthorne Hills. I went into the living room and started paging through the book on Italy. Where would we all go? We had been to northern Italy years ago. I definitely wanted to go back to Venice. Phil and I read an intriguing mystery series that took place in Venice. Rome or Florence would be new. And of course there was Sicily. Palermo, the Taormina area. Tomorrow I would pick up those brochures. A whole slew of them. Palermo. I'd need to figure out what we would do in Palermo.

  * * * *

  At one o'clock I walked through the entrance of Hawthorne Hills, and headed straight for the dining room. Lunch had just ended and the tables were being cleared. The tall, red-haired girl who had left to get Dr. Lee at the Christmas tea was clearing the table near the entryway. I asked her if she would be able to talk to me a few minutes about the day of the Christmas tea. She nodded and wiped the table.

  “Did you know Les very well?” I asked. “No, but I did know his partner quite well.”

  “Partner? Lola?”

  “No. Viktor. He was sitting with him when it happened?”

  “What do you mean 'partner'?”

  “You know...his boyfriend. Viktor was at the table when Les started choking. Or at least when it looked like he was choking.”

  “Les was gay? I thought he had a girlfriend.”

  “That ended. He was never serious about her. His partner was Viktor. He's the one who did the Heimlich maneuver on him. Before...”

  I would need to speak to Viktor about Les, to see if he knew why Les was a target. “Do you think Viktor would talk to me?”

  “Of course, he's a great guy.”

  “I'm trying to figure out how peanuts got into the food. Both the patisserie and Hawthorne Hills deny the possibility of it happening.”

  “No idea. You might want to talk to Sheila in the kitchen; she's in charge, although I don't know if she'll talk to you. Don't take it personally. She doesn't have the best people skills.”

  The girl went over to the next table and started clearing it.

  I went to the kitchen door and opened it. Chelsey was washing the dishes. She looked up at me. Her eyes went wide. She glanced over towards a woman who was standing up.

  “Can I help you? I'm in charge of the kitchen. Sheila Harris.”

  Sheila's voice had the rasp of a two packs a day smoker. Her facial features were sharp and full of angles. Her mouth, disciplined and her eyes, penetrating.

  “My name is Kay Driscoll. I was one of the persons who performed CPR on Les. Could I have a word with you?” I held out my hand.

  Sheila did not extend her hand. “I'm busy. Need to get next week's menus figured out.”

  I lowered my hand. “It would only take a minute.”

  “Oh...all right.” She threw the cookbook down she was holding a bit too hard and glared at me. “What do you want?”

  I ignored her tone and opened the door to the dining room. “Shall we sit in the dining room?” Everyone in the kitchen was staring at us. She led the way into the other room.

  We sat down at a table. “I was told that you put the same foods on each of the tiered trays that were served and that you ticketed which tray went to which table.” No use beating around the bush.

  “So?”

  This woman...Did Nancy only hire people who reflected her own nasty disposition?

  “So...why did Les have an allergic attack, when other residents who had the same allergy didn't?”
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br />   Just then Chelsey came out of the kitchen and started filling the salt and pepper shakers. She glanced in my direction with an odd expression on her face.

  “Who said others had allergies?”

  “It's true, isn't it?”

  “Are you insinuating something here?”

  I didn't respond. After staring at each other for several seconds, I added, “Just trying to lay out the facts, Sheila.”

  “I don't like your tone, Ms. Driskill.” Sheila stood up and walked back into the kitchen.

  Chelsey came by, filled the shakers at my table and said under her breath, “Meet you in the parking lot. Ten minutes.” She went to the next table.

  I put on my coat and scarf, taking my time. When I passed by the kitchen window, I saw Sheila watching me. Ms. Driskill indeed! I went out the front door, got into my car, and drove around back to the parking lot. A couple of minutes later Chelsey hustled out of the back door, looking behind her. As she approached the car, I motioned with my head that she should go around to the passenger's side. Inside the car, I suggested to her that we park down the street a block or two away. She agreed. I pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Mrs. Driscoll—” she said.

  “Please, call me Kay.”

  “Kay, you know Les died because of his allergy.”

  I hope she had something new to tell me. “Yes, I know.”

  “This morning I was straightening out the storage cupboard in the kitchen and way in the back behind some cans, I found a small jar of peanut butter. It had been opened, and some was missing.”

  “Peanut butter? At the Home?” This was a bit too easy. But why would Chelsey lie about the peanut butter. I didn't know her, but if she was part of this murder, why bring up the peanut butter? I believed her. “Do you have the jar?” If someone had hidden the jar, there could be some fingerprints on it.

  “No. But later in the morning, thinking it might be evidence, I went back, but it was gone.”

  “Did you check all over?”

  “I looked all over that cupboard.”

  “In the trash?”

  “Too late, if it was put in there. Today's garbage day.”