She’d stopped putting the groceries away and stood with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.“He was afraid.Because of what he saw on Henry’s desk.”
“What did he see?”Dash asked.
“A note on the desk.Just like the one he’d gotten the day before from the blackmailer.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
I’d calledthe Silver Sleuths from the car on the way back from Jackie’s and told them to meet at my house.I didn’t give them details over the phone.I just said we had new information, it was important, and to bring food if they had it because it had been a long day and I was starving.
Dottie had taken that last part very seriously.
By the time Dash and I pulled up to my house on Harbor Street it was just after six, the rain had turned into a steady drizzle, and the lights were already on inside.Dottie’s car was in the drive.Walt’s was at the curb.Bea had taken up most of the remaining street space with a parking job that suggested we might need to look and see if her license was expired.
As soon as we opened the door smells of something aromatic surrounded me, and I inhaled deeply.
“I made a big pot of chicken stew so I brought the whole thing over,” Deidre called out from the kitchen.
“And God bless her for it,” Dash said under his breath.“I’m starving.”
Chowder met us in the entry hall in a burgundy argyle sweater vest I was fairly certain I’d never seen before.He had the talent of looking judgmental and guilty all at the same time.
“I like your sweater,” I told him to break the ice.“Very collegiate.”
He sat up a little straighter and tilted his head.
“Thank you for asking,” I said.“It’s been an eventful day.A man died.It was horrible.You made the wise decision to stay behind.”
He snorted and seemed to have a moment of condemnation for my poor judgment at not staying at the tea shop, and then he turned his back on us and trotted into the kitchen.
“That dog is unbelievable,” Dash said.“I brought him treats yesterday and I don’t even get so much as a hello.”
“Treat taxes start over at midnight,” I told him.“But he’s been out of sorts this week with me being gone so much.I might have to take him on a weekend getaway to get back in his good graces.”
We walked through the living area to the formal dining room.Walt was at the table with his hands wrapped around a coffee mug.Hank was hanging his jacket on the back of his chair and had a fresh glass of red in front of him.Dottie was bringing a pan of cornbread to the table, and Bea was seated at the head of the table with a wine glass that was almost empty, wearing a deep plum caftan and matching jeweled turban so she looked like Elizabeth Taylor.
“Y’all sit down,” Deidre said, bringing in bowls of soup.“You must be worn out with everything happening today.I just can’t believe James is dead.We all saw him yesterday with not a clue it would be the last time.”
Her nervous energy was palpable, and I knew she’d probably spent the afternoon trying to stay busy after the news of James’s death came through.
I sat in the seat next to Dash and spooned up the first bite, letting the flavor and heat seep through my bones.I knew I was exhausted, but I hadn’t realized how chilled I’d become, going in and out of the rain and humidity and into the air-conditioning.
“Well,” Walt said.“You filled us in after you talked with James.What happened with Jackie?Why did he say her name?Did she confess?”
“No,” Dash said.“But we certainly got to see a different side of her.”
“Yeah, the crazy side,” I said.“I’ve seen true crime documentaries about women just like her.Total narcissist.Entitled.Used her body to get what she wanted out of life.”
“It’s a good body,” Bea said.“I looked her up online.Reminds me of myself at her age.”
I changed the trajectory of the question because I realized those descriptors fit Bea as well.She’d never been one to shy away from breaking up a marriage.
“Jackie confirmed everything that James told us,” I said.“The affair, the extravagant spending, the house she’s living in.She said she knew he was wealthy so never bothered to ask where the money was coming from.But she said things changed a few months before Henry died.Extra stress and anxiety.”
“Hmmph,” Deidre said.“A guilty conscience.Rest his soul.”
“She also knew about the blackmail,” I said.“She said he received five different notes that she knew about.”
“In the same time frame as his newfound anxiety?”Dottie asked.
