Mayhem at the Orient Express (19 page)

“We were talking about the murder,” I corrected her. “And trying to stay sane and
rational and see everything that’s happened from every possible point of view.”

“Well, here’s another mystery for you.” Luella set the coat on the chair in the corner.
“While I was upstairs checking on Isabelle, I figured I might as well return the Princess’s
coat. You know, the one we took to use as a prop in the play last night. And guess
what, ladies. Our Princess Dragomiroff is gone.”

It isn’t often that we can put a finger on the truly important moments in our lives.
Days come and go. Incidents that seem ordinary turn out to have significance, and
often, those events that seem earthshaking at the time turn out to be nothing in the
long run but a big ho-hum.

But this moment, I recognized as momentous.

This was the moment when I realized I truly was an innkeeper, because I looked over
at the accounts I’d been working on and wailed, “She can’t be gone. She hasn’t paid
her bill!”

Kate gave me the thumbs-up, then laughed when she saw the look of horror on my face
when I realized I was suddenly looking at the world through the same mercenary glasses
she wore.

Kate patted my arm. “Sane and rational, remember, you’re the one who said that, Bea.
Our Princess probably just stepped out to the car or went for a walk. That’s the sane
and rational answer.”

Sane and rational, yeah.

Which didn’t jibe with Mariah going out for a walk without her coat.

• • •

It would be my last evening with guests packed into the house cheek by jowl.

The thought hit me sometime that Saturday afternoon, and honestly, I can’t say whether
I was happy, sad, or just plain relieved.

As of the next morning, the ferry would be up and running, and my guests would pack
up and leave. Like on the Orient Express, the stranded travelers would settle their
business and go their own ways.

Unlike the Orient Express, where Hercule Poirot used those brilliant little gray cells
of his, we had no solution to our murder.

“Well, what did you expect?” I was outside and headed for the garage, grumbling to
myself while I mushed through the calf-high slush that was all that was left of the
piles of snow. “You think you’re as bright as Poirot? Or as smart as Christie?” I
didn’t need to step in a puddle of mush and get a bootful of icy slop to wake up to
the cold reality.

I told myself not to forget it and kept on with my mission. In honor of sunshine,
blue skies, and the last night we’d spend together under one roof, I’d decided on
a looking-forward-to-better-weather cookout, and I got to the garage and dragged out
the propane grill that I bought with thoughts of warm summer nights dancing through
my head. There were still some of the frozen burgers left that Levi had brought over,
and now that the grocery store was open again for business, Kate and Chandra had gone
for hot dogs, buns, and the makings for s’mores.

“If you can’t make summer come to you, at least you can make it summery.”

The sound of the voice behind me made me whirl around, and my heart bumped to a stop.

“Levi! You didn’t—”

“Escape?” He laughed, though how he was able to after all he’d been through in the
last twenty-four hours, I wasn’t sure. “Scout’s honor!” He held up one hand. “Hank
says he’s not sure what to charge me with, and there’s nowhere for me to go, anyway,
so I might as well spend the night at home. I thought I’d stop by”—he poked his thumb
over his shoulder and toward the house—“and pick up my things. At least the stuff
the police haven’t collected as evidence.”

“And tomorrow when the ferry’s running?”

“Jayce Martin has strict orders. I am not to board the ferry. No matter what.”

“Well, good. I mean about you not being in jail anymore.” I was pretty sure this was
true, so I don’t know why I sounded like I couldn’t make up my mind. I patted the
vinyl cover on the grill. “We’re having a cookout.”

“I see that.” Levi was wearing his peacoat open over that same green plaid shirt and
black T-shirt I’d seen him in earlier that morning when I’d visited him at the police
station. The bright sunshine emphasized the bags under his eyes, but I didn’t have
long to study them. He turned and headed toward the house. “I won’t be long. I’ll
just get my stuff and get out of your way. I can understand that your guests would
be uncomfortable having me here.”

“Did Hank tell you? About what Amanda said?”

My question stopped him and he turned back around. “About the man she saw coming out
of the Orient Express? Yeah, he mentioned it. I’ve never spoken to Amanda. You should
know that. We didn’t put our heads together and concoct the story.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I can’t tell what Hank thinks.”

I tried for light and casual and hoped my smile proved it. “I’m pretty sure that’s
a cop thing. You know, cryptic and stone-faced.”

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“There are a lot of questions that we still haven’t answered.”

“I get it.” He backstepped away. “Like I said, until those questions are answered,
I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want anyone to be nervous or worried just because
I’m hanging around.”

He didn’t have to put it into words. I knew that
anyone
included me.

I took a step forward. “I’ve been thinking . . .”

Levi stopped.

“About your bedroll,” I explained. “And the bracelet. Your bedroll was in the parlor
all day long. Anybody could have put that bracelet in it.”

It wasn’t my imagination, though it may have been a trick of the bright sunlight glancing
off the last of the snow; I swear I saw some of the ice in his shoulders thaw, and
the lines of stress in his face melt. “That’s pretty much what I told Hank. Unfortunately,
neither of us could figure out why someone would want to do that.”

“To deflect suspicion away from himself—whoever that is—and onto you, I suppose.”
In the time since the realization had occurred to me, it was the only valid explanation
I could come up with. “My guess is whoever did it, that person figured he’d have time
to go back and get the bracelet. I mean, obviously. Unless he wanted you to have it.”

“You mean as a kind of substitute for the legal settlement my family didn’t get in
Gram’s death.”

I twitched my shoulders. “It does sound kind of wacky, doesn’t it? Like we’ve got
some sort of Robin Hood killer on our hands. But that would mean someone knew who
you were, and knew about your connection with Peter. That doesn’t seem likely since
it’s something you’ve kept under wraps.”

“Not anymore, since Hank knows.” He took another step back.

“Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Yeah, stranger.”

It was one of those awkward moments when you realize your conversation has run out
of so much gas, you can’t even figure out a way to put on the brakes and bring it
to a stop.

Levi knew it as well as I did. Still facing me, his gaze fixed to my face, he moved
toward the house. “So, I’m just going to—”

“Levi?” Oblivious to another soaking from an even bigger puddle than I’d stepped in
the first time, and all too aware of the symbolism, I took two impetuous steps toward
him. When he stopped to find out what I wanted, I found myself suddenly tongue-tied.

“I was just thinking.” I wasn’t the least bit cold, but I poked my hands in my pockets,
too, my body language a mirror of his. “What I mean to say is, how about if you stay
for dinner?”

19

B
y dinnertime that night, Mariah had still not returned to the B and B. I was worried,
and not just about her unpaid bill. Hank had already left for home, and I called him
there and told him what was troubling me. I didn’t need to mention the condoms. Chandra
had already told him about that.

And he’d already made up his mind about what Mariah was up to.

I wasn’t convinced, and Hank took pity on me. He said he’d tell the officers on duty
to be on the lookout for Mariah. Other than that, he claimed there wasn’t much they
could do. She was an adult, and except for skipping out on her bill, there was no
reason for the cops to look for her.

The next morning, Sunday, my guests slowly drifted away. Ted said he wanted to be
on the first ferry off the island and assured us that he’d left all his contact information
with Hank. Amanda said exactly the same thing. Jayce had been up long before the sun,
itching to get back on his ferry and back to the lake. And convinced that Isabelle
would finally feel better once she was sleeping in her own bed, Meg had bundled up
the girls and taken them home.

Levi, it should be noted, left the night before. In fact, he was gone as soon as he
helped clean up the dishes. Frankly, I didn’t blame him. For one thing, he got more
than one nervous sidelong glance from my guests during dinner. For another, well,
there was only so long a person could be comfortable sleeping on the floor, even if
it is on an antique Oriental rug and in front of a fireplace.

Levi didn’t thank me before he left, and for this, I was grateful. I wasn’t looking
for his gratitude, only for the truth. Since neither of us seemed to know how to find
our way there, it seemed simpler just to say good night and wonder if it might also
be good-bye
.

None of this made me feel any more upbeat when Kate, Chandra, Luella, and I walked
into Suite #4 to have a look around. I glanced from Mariah’s tote bag, to her slinky
black pants draped over the foot of the bed, to the red cashmere sweater that had
been neatly folded and left on a chair.

“She left and didn’t take anything with her. That’s just strange. I don’t understand
why the cops don’t think it’s strange.”

“Because she’s an adult. And she can do whatever she wants to do,” Kate reminded me.

“Yeah, but with a murderer on the island . . .” There was no use going over it all
again, but honestly, I just couldn’t help myself. I plunked down on the bed that was
still neatly made from Saturday morning. “We need to go over the clues again,” I said.

Kate had just come out of the bathroom after looking around in there. “So you don’t
think Levi did it?”

“Do you?” When she didn’t answer, I moved on to Chandra and Luella. “Do any of you?
Because I’ll tell you what, I’m thinking someone set him up.”

“But why?” Chandra poked through the dresser drawers and found nothing interesting.
She gave up with a sigh. “Why would someone want to make Levi look guilty?”

Luella finished looking over the other side of the room. “To make themselves look
innocent, of course,” she said.

“Except there’s no one who really looks guilty. And no one who really looked innocent,”
I grumbled. “It’s all so darned frustrating. Let’s look at the clues again.”

“You mean like the frilly glove we found at the Orient Express?” Chandra asked.

“Or the pack of chewing tobacco the cops picked up there?” Kate put in.

“And the threatening notes from Amanda?” Luella asked.

“And don’t forget the diamond bracelet,” Chandra added.

This time, the sound that erupted from me was more screech than grumble. “See? It’s
just what I was saying. It’s almost like there are too many clues.”

“Like more than one person did it!” Chandra’s mouth dropped open. “It’s just like
in the book. They all got together and—”

“Really?” Kate’s sour smile told us she wasn’t convinced. “Don’t you think we’re taking
this whole
Murder on the Orient Express
thing too far? That sort of conspiracy might work in a book, but think about the logistics
of it in real life. Ted would have had to work with Amanda, who would have had to
plot with Mariah, who would have had to plan with Levi. And they all would have had
to have motive.”

“Well, Ted and Amanda and Levi did,” I reminded them. “But if there was some bundled
person who left the Orient Express the night of the murder, and if it was the killer,
then that person had to have had a motive, too. That brings us right back to—”

“The jewelry,” we all answered in unison.

“And Levi’s bedroll on the floor of the parlor all day long,” I reminded them before
anybody could try and convince me he was suspect numero uno again. “I dunno . . .”
I got up from the bed and walked out into the hallway, closing the door to the suite
behind me. In spite of the fact that I was more than a little miffed about getting
stiffed for the bill, I prayed nothing had happened to Mariah. But just in case it
had and the police would need to look through her things, I locked the door. I didn’t
have another guest scheduled to come in for a couple weeks; I didn’t need the room.

We started down the steps.

“It’s the frilly glove and the chewing tobacco that have me confused,” Luella said.

“It’s like a man did it,” Chandra commented.

“And like a woman did it,” Kate added.

“And then to top it all off . . .” At the bottom of the stairs, I paused and looked
back up to the second-floor landing. “Our Princess has vanished. She can’t have gotten
to the mainland. Not before this morning, anyway, and if she did that, Jayce would
have seen her. It’s like she just poofed off the island. Or like she worked some kind
of magic and became someone else.”

I had a lot to do to get the B and B back to pre-snowstorm shape, and I’d just taken
a step toward the parlor with the thought of fluffing couch pillows, folding used
afghans, and seeing how desperately and how soon I’d need my cleaning people in, when
I pulled up short.

“She became someone else.”

I repeated the words, and when all Chandra, Kate, and Luella did was look at me with
blank expressions on their faces, I said them a little louder. “She became someone
else. Our Princess Dragomiroff.”

“Uh, okay.” Chandra nodded. But then, I’m pretty sure that’s how a person’s supposed
to respond when a mentally not-so-stable person starts carrying on. So that person—in
this case a curly-haired woman who was jumping up and down and flapping her hands
in front of her friends—doesn’t go completely off the deep end.

They didn’t get it.

Or maybe it was me who was so far off base she wasn’t even in the realm of reality.

I tried again anyway.

“Dragomiroff,” I said, pronouncing each syllable slowly and carefully. “It explains
everything. The gorgeous clothes, the perfect makeup, the hair that was never mussed.
Drag-o-mir-off.”

Chandra caught on first, and I knew exactly when it happened because her cheeks shot
through with color. “That explains why the bitch had better eyebrows than me!”

“You don’t think . . .” Kate waited for me to jump in and tell her I was only kidding.
“You do think. Chuck Anderson?”

“Chuck Anderson,” I said, and because I knew they would stand there with their mouths
hanging open and stare at me for the rest of the day, I grabbed Chandra’s arm, threw
open the front door, and raced to her van. “We’ve got to get to the ferry,” I said.
“Before Chuck gets away.”

• • •

“So let me get this straight.” Hank was wearing sunglasses, but I really didn’t need
to see his eyes. He was stationed on the dock, carefully watching the ferry plow through
the waters and back to the island after its most recent trip to the mainland. “You’re
telling me that Mariah . . .” Even a cop can only keep a stony expression for so long.
He screwed up his mouth and his cheeks puffed out. I can’t imagine cops are squeamish
about much. Except maybe something like this.

“You’re telling me that beautiful woman was actually a man?”

“Dragomiroff. That’s what gave me the clue.” I don’t know why I bothered to mention
this, except that it was the truth, even if it obviously didn’t mean much to Hank.
“The pieces fit,” I told him just as I told him on the phone when I called on the
way to the ferry dock. “The person who both Levi and Amanda saw walk out of the Orient
Express—”

“They weren’t sure if it was a man or a woman.” Hank nodded.

“And the frilly glove and chewing tobacco . . .”

“Could have both belonged to Chuck.” He darted me a sidelong look. “If that was Chuck.”
Hank yanked his hat off his head and scratched a hand along the top of his buzz cut.
“It’s not possible,” he said. “I mean, a man would know something like that, wouldn’t
he? And I—”

“Admit it Hank, you thought she was hot.” Chandra laughed. “You never had a clue.”

“It doesn’t mean a thing.” The ferry docked, and Hank pushed off from his post. As
soon as the gangway was down, he hopped onto the boat.

“Oh, this is going to be delicious, teasing him about Mariah.” Chandra chuckled. “I
guarantee you, Hank Florentine,” she called after him, “you’re never going to hear
the end of this!”

“If we’re right,” I reminded her. “If we’re way off base—”

“Then it was worth a few chuckles, anyway.” Luella clapped me on the back.

But no one was laughing when Hank marched off the boat. “Third trip of the day,” he
grumbled. “And Jayce says first thing this morning, there was a big guy on the boat,
all right, and he looked vaguely familiar, except that he was bundled up and wearing
a scarf and hat so it was hard to tell. It might have been Chuck Anderson, all right.
I showed Jayce a photo of him. He’s not sure. But maybe. I’ve already called the cops
in Catawba, but if that was Anderson”—he emphasized the
if—
“he’s long gone by now.”

“And if it was Chuck Anderson?” I didn’t want to beat a dead horse, but I wondered
if Hank was thinking what I was thinking.

“Then he sure could be our killer,” he said, confirming my suspicion. “He knew where
the jewelry was hidden, because he was the one who hid it.”

“And he called Peter to place that takeout order and never expected him to come back
so soon,” I added, just in case anyone forgot about this. “He was there to get the
jewelry, ran into Peter, and—”

No one needed to fill in the blanks; we all knew what happened after that.

We watched a few people get off the ferry and a line of people who’d been waiting
on the dock filed on. Jayce gave the horn a toot.

“So now what?” I asked Hank.

When he looked south over the lake to the mainland, Hank’s expression was grim. “Somebody
will find him,” he said. “We’ll put out an APB and I guarantee, somebody over on the
mainland will nail the son-of-a-bitch. For now . . . well, I guess the good news is
that he’s off our island.”

• • •

“I guess the thing that really bothers me is that we weren’t able to prove anything.”
Yes, I was grumbling. Could anyone blame me? It was Monday evening, and after the
stressful week we’d all had, we decided to bend Alvin Littlejohn’s rule just a tad.
Our book discussion group was still meeting, only at the B and B. With a pitcher of
margaritas.

Don’t tell Alvin, but we weren’t talking about
Murder on the Orient Express
as much as we were about Peter’s murder.

“Hank hasn’t heard a word from any police department over on the mainland.” Chandra
crunched into a tortilla chip. “And until they find Chuck—”

“If they ever find Chuck.” Leave it to Kate to be painfully honest, even when this
was something none of us wanted to hear. She must have realized it, because she puckered
like a prune. “I’m just sayin’. It doesn’t hurt to look at things—”

“Through very un-rose-colored glasses.” Luella apparently didn’t hold this against
Kate, because she gave her a quick hug. “It’s okay, honey, we know. No one could make
a success of a business like you have without being levelheaded and willing to face
facts head-on. Even if they’re not the facts you like.”