The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) (6 page)

"Well, come to find out, Horatio bought the property the very afternoon that we'd
lunched together. Offered the buyer a few hundred bucks more than I had for the property,
and the buyer accepted his offer. Of course, a hundred bucks went a lot further in
those days. But the buyer hadn't actually taken it off the market. He'd just sold
it to the highest bidder, who just happened to know exactly how much it'd take to
outbid me."

"Wow, that was a low blow, wasn't it?"

"Rather unprofessional and underhanded, yes. But par for the course for Prescott,
from what other folks have since told me. I was only one of many people who have been
swindled or outwitted by him over the years. Even his business partner, Boris, claims
Prescott tried to bilk him out of many thousands of dollars, his share made on some
foreign commodities that D&P Enterprises had invested in and sold for a hefty profit.
And it's not like I'm under any illusion that Boris Dack is a saint, either."

"Wow, it's no wonder someone wanted to kill Mr. Prescott."

Robert looked at me then with a curious expression, and said, "It didn't upset me
to a degree of that magnitude, I promise you. I didn't dislike him enough to go to
prison for killing him. In fact, I think the whole thing ruffled Ernestine's feathers
more than mine, and she's no murderer either. It especially irked her when the property
was recently selected as the site for the new shopping center, and Horatio was promised
six and a half million clams for it. They are surveying the property right now, doing
title search work, and ironing out the details of the contract."

"Goodness sakes! That's a lot of money, isn't it?" I said. "Phew! Surely your stock
investments didn't perform quite as spectacularly, did they?"

"No, but they're adequate enough for our needs. And yes, it will be an incredible
return on Horatio's money, I assure you. His heirs will be delighted, no doubt."

"So Ernestine wasn't too fond of Prescott?" I asked, in a thinly veiled attempt at
prying. I wasn't overly concerned with anyone's constitutional rights. It was easier
for me to consider every guest guilty until proven innocent.

"Ernestine considered Horatio to be crude and uncouth. He'd made a habit of referring
to us as 'Bert and Ernie' in public, which infuriated Ernestine even further. She
felt it was very disrespectful. He's gone now, and I look at the whole matter as water
under the proverbial bridge, but it taught me not to trust a man like Horatio any
farther than I could throw a water buffalo."

I smiled at the vision his remark invoked. And I had to agree with Ernestine's assessment
of Horatio Prescott. The Sesame Street reference was childish, and being snookered
out of six and half million bucks might ruffle anybody's feathers, I thought.

I patted Robert's forearm, shook my head in disapproval, and said, "Well, Robert,
I can see why Ernestine felt the way she did about Mr. Prescott. It doesn't sound
like Prescott was a man with much integrity or very high morals."

"No. Sadly, he wasn't very principled for a self-proclaimed God-fearing man. He was
an elder at the Presbyterian church, as well."

"Jekyll and Hyde syndrome?"

"I think he felt as if his duty at the church would erase his misdeeds in the eyes
of the Lord, and perhaps ease his conscience at the same time," Robert said.

"Hmm..."

"I'm sure there was a motive behind it. Horatio makes... er, made, very few moves
that weren't calculated. Which explains, in part, anyway, the wealth he amassed over
the years."

"As wealthy as he apparently was, he must have kept a substantial amount of money
in the Rockdale Bank and Trust."

"A substantial amount by most people's standards, but the bulk of his amassed fortune
is in Swiss accounts. A lot of his wealth comes from questionable sources, like black
market trading. There have even been rumors of a mob connection. So my guess would
be a lot of the money has been nicely cleaned and pressed—"

"Huh?"

"Laundered," he clarified.

"Oh, my. And Boris? Is he aware of this?"

"Oh, I'm quite certain he is. In fact, I'd imagine he's the man with the soap!"

Chapter 4

Robert dumped imaginary ashes beside his chair and then placed the well-worn pipe
in a back pocket before excusing himself to re-enter the Alexandria Inn. I noticed
while we talked that he'd been shivering from the cool March wind as it flapped the
thin, orange material of his jumpsuit back and forth against his skin. He was a tall,
lanky gentleman, with a slightly bent-over posture, and was probably in his mid to
late eighties. He was much too thin. There wasn't much meat on his bones to insulate
him against the cold.

I was feeling a bit chilled myself and lifted my camera from the table to go inside
when I heard the distinct squeak of the patio door opening again. Patty Poffenbarger,
holding a pastry, liberally covered in powdered sugar, swept out onto the back porch
with her very reticent spouse in tow. They each carried a cup of steaming coffee Crystal
had probably just refilled.

I was beginning to think of Otto and Patty as Jack Sprat and his wife. If Otto could
eat fat, he wasn't eating enough of it. He made Robert Fischer look beefy in comparison.
And if Patty, who easily outweighed Otto by a hundred and seventy pounds, could eat
lean, she was apparently not too fond of it, or she was eating enough of it for six
people.

"Otto, sit there!" she instructed, as she pointed at a barren, brick flower planter.
Otto obediently sat down on the edge of the planter and immediately dug his hand into
the potting soil, which I had recently prepared for the planting of spring flowers.

He let the soil sift through his fingers, studying its quality. "Needs potassium to
be more fertile," he muttered. "A little potash and nitrogen, too."

Patty, meanwhile, had plopped her large frame in the chair Robert Fischer had recently
vacated. I held my breath as the chair groaned but, fortunately, didn't collapse.
She was wedged in tightly, filling every inch of it, and I wondered if it might require
Crisco and a crowbar to extract her from it.

"Doing okay?" I asked.

"Fine, fine," Otto said, without even a glance in my direction.

Patty looked astounded, as if she couldn't quite believe her husband had the audacity
to respond in such a manner or had even taken it upon himself to respond at all. She
leaned forward and said, "We're not fine, Otto, not fine at all. We're being held
here and made to look like criminals in the eyes of all Rockdale's citizens. I'm sure
at this very moment we're being gossiped about all over town. I know all the members
of my bridge club must think I'm a suspect in Prescott's murder, and I don't know
how I'll ever face any of them again. It's humiliating to the core, Ms. Starr. Rosalinda
Swift agrees totally with me about this, I might add. It is a travesty of justice,
and I, for one, intend to sue somebody for this assassination of my character."

With a dramatic "Humph!" and a lot of exertion, Patty pushed herself back into the
chair, which made creepy sounds as if struggling to support her weight.

"Oh, my, Mrs. Poffenbarger, I'm so sorry you and Ms. Swift feel that way," I said.
Why did I feel I had to coddle this whiner when I really just wanted to slap the self-righteous
look off her face? "I'm sure the detectives will let you leave if you prefer not to
stay at the inn. Detective Johnston said it was a request, not a demand, and intended
only to simplify matters."

"Humph!" Patty Poffenbarger repeated.

Slap, slap, slap,
I said to myself.

"You and Mr. Poffenbarger are not suspects, nor is Ms. Swift, and I don't think anyone
is under the impression that you are. The detectives just need to question you in
case you heard or saw anything that might be useful in their investigation. That's
really all there is to it."

"If we were to leave, we'd look like we were hesitant to speak with the investigators.
As if we had something to hide," Patty said. "Isn't that right, Otto?"

Otto looked up, cocked his head and shrugged. "Yes, dear."

It was obvious to both him and me that Patty didn't really care about his opinion.
He immediately went back to running his fingers through the soil in the planter.

But Patty had made a point I couldn't dispute. I know I'd move them up the ladder
on my own suspect list if they refused to cooperate with the investigating team. "It
will probably only be for one more day, anyway," I said. "They've already taken statements
from Stone and me and a few of the guests, and fingerprints from all of us. Remember,
Stone and I are in the same boat as you. I was the first one to be questioned, in
fact. Besides, Mrs. Poffenbarger, would it be all that horrible to have to stay here
one or two more days? It's what you had originally intended to do anyway, and now
the accommodations are complimentary, and you'll be able to enjoy a little unexpected
rest and relaxation."

"Oh, I suppose that's true," Patty said in resignation. She picked a coaster up from
the sofa table and began to fan herself. "Goodness, it's hot!"

"Would you like me to get you some ice water or something?" I needed to go inside
and get some more coffee, anyway. If it did nothing else, it would warm me up a bit.

"No, it's likely just a hot flash. This stress we're under is not good for me. I have
a thyroid problem, you know. It's underactive, you understand—Hashimoto's Thyroiditis,
the condition is called. It's the reason I have to contend with a few extra pounds.
And I think it's been acting up this morning because I feel a bit light-headed, all
of a sudden."

A few extra pounds? A hundred and fifty extra pounds, she must have meant to say.
At least it was a comfort to know the sugar-covered pastries I'd helped Crystal deep-fry
earlier had nothing to do with those "few extra pounds" Patty had to contend with.

"Yes, quite faint, actually. Perhaps I do need a little something to boost my metabolism."
Patty's voice had dropped to a near inaudible level, as if the very effort of speaking
normally was too much for her and her under-active thyroid. "Could you run to the
kitchen and see what you can find for me to nibble on?"

"Yes, Mrs. Poffenbarger," I said.

"Yes, dear."

Otto and I had answered in unison. I motioned for Otto to sit down, and then waved
to Crystal, standing beside the window and peering out at the porch. She instantly
appeared at Patty's side and offered the tray of refreshments, as if by habit. She
rolled her eyes as Patty selected several cream-filled doughnuts from the tray, while
lamenting about her thyroid condition. I had to stifle a giggle as I watched Crystal
refill the Poffenbargers' coffee cups. There was enough caffeine being consumed at
the inn to the degree no one in the entire household should be able to sleep for a
week. I poured myself another cup of the fragrant beverage before Crystal left to
check on the rest of the guests.

To make idle chatter, I pointed toward a raised flowerbed in the backyard where small,
light purple blossoms were poking up above the fresh layer of snow. "Look at those
colorful little flowers out there. Poor things bloomed a little too early, didn't
they?"

"Actually, they're right on schedule," Otto said. "Those are called snow crocuses,
my dear. They always bloom in early spring and often come right up through the snow,
hence, their name. With their violet petals, grayish veins, and yellow throats, I'd
say those are what are known as 'firefly' crocuses."

I guess the surprise showed on my face. Patty explained matter-of-factly, between
licks of the Bavarian creme oozing out onto her fingers, "Otto's a botanist. He usually
spends most of his day in a lab, staring at silly old plants."

It was obvious Patty thought this was the most ridiculous waste of time imaginable,
but as an amateur gardener, I was interested in "silly old" plants, too. "Do all of
the crocuses come up this early in the spring?" I asked Otto.

"Well, the snow crocus, of course, comes up in early spring, as do most of the crocuses.
But there's also an autumn crocus, found primarily in Europe and the Middle East.
It blooms in autumn and bears fruit in the spring. All parts of that particular plant,
however, are lethally poisonous."