This Little Piggy Went to Murder (27 page)

Slowly, he closed the book.

Sophie set her cup down on the table. “I suppose I should be going.”

Luther nodded. “But one last thing. Please believe me, I’m sorry you walked in on all this. It was my intention to keep my problems to myself.”

“You idiot.” She fought to control her voice.

“You go on, now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sophie wanted to say something eloquent, something to ease his pain, but knew it was impossible. Instead, she just said she’d be down for breakfast about nine.

Luther smiled. “It’s a date. Before you go, would you turn the volume back up on the stereo? This next part is my favorite.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Sophie did as he asked. The last movement was just about to begin. Stepping quietly to the door, she turned and for a moment, watched him resting. Of all things, a slight smile appeared on his lips. She stood listening to the music as it rose into the chilly room, lighting the darkness.

Ryan carried a huge pink begonia into the greenhouse and set it down on the potting bench. Turning it around and around, he eventually found the best angle.

“Is that the new variety you were telling me about?” asked a voice from behind him.

Whirling around, Ryan looked startled. “Sure is. Isn’t it a beauty?”

The figure was seated on a bench next to one of the growing tables.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No. I saw that you were busy in the other room. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Ryan appeared puzzled, but shrugged it off. Busily, he began to snip off some of the dying leaves. “You seem kind of preoccupied this evening.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Something wrong?” He pulled a wastebasket out from under the table.

“No. Actually, I just made a decision. I always feel so much better when something is finally decided.”

“Really? Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Are you going to tell me or is it a secret?”

“No. It won’t be a secret after tonight.”

“So? I’m waiting.” He stopped and turned around.

“Kind of a foggy night.”

“Yeah, it is. What does that have to do with anything?”

“That’s a pretty scarf over there. The one wrapped around that pot. Don’t I recognize it?”

Ryan’s mouth tightened. “What are you getting at? If this is about …”

“About what, Ryan?”

Ryan flexed his arms and shrugged.

“Now, this is an interesting plant right next to me here. Look at what I found stuck in the dirt.”

Ryan stepped back. “Hey, that’s a gun.”

“Twenty-twenty vision. Good for you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do? Why Ryan, where’s your imagination? I’d hate to think it’s escaped you at a time like this. What do you usually do with a gun?”

“I don’t know. I mean, look. I can explain.” His eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way of escape.

“Explain? I don’t think that’s necessary. You already know how I feel.”

“It’s not what you think!”

“It’s not? Oh, but I think it is. And. we both know it, don’t we? As a matter of fact, I’ve already warned you.”

“But this is ridiculous. Give me a chance to explain.”

A gunshot shattered one of the glass panels behind him.

“God! Shit!” Ryan backed into the table, knocking the beegonia over the side. The next two shots hit their target.

Slowly, Ryan slid to the floor.

“We can’t forget our calling card. I’d like to think people could recognize a pig when they see one, but for those who can’t …” A piece of typing paper was placed in Ryan’s hand. “There.”

Before the light was switched off, a potted geranium was set decoratively on top of his chest.

Sophie poked her head into the deserted dining room, lustfully examining the contents of several chafing dishes elegantly displayed on the sideboar. She tugged at the waist of her jeans. For some reason they seemed smaller than the last time she’d worn them.

No one seemed to be stirring. Bram had left with some friends earlier in the morning to go fishing. He said he needed a break before he tackled the last two chapters. Sophie was elected to take the car and scout out a hotel in Duluth. She wanted some time to explain the move to Luther and Amanda before she left. Bram had insisted that they would understand. Sophie wasn’t so sure. Backing out of the dining room doorway, Sophie bumped smack into Alice who was backing around a corner of her own. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully, laughing at their mutual surprise.

Alice burst into tears.

“Are you all right?” asked Sophie, reaching out a hand to steady her.

“I can’t talk about it right now.” She yanked her arm away and ran into the kitchen.

What on earth? Sophie followed the sound of voices and found Claire and Amanda seated on the couch in the living room. Amanda was clearly angry.

“There’s more at stake here than your career, Claire!”

“But, what if she says something to the board of trustees? I could lose my job, my reputation — everything I’ve worked for.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Amanda turned when she saw Sophie enter.

“What’s going on?” asked Sophie. “Where is everyone? And what’s wrong with Alice? I merely said good morning and she burst into tears.”

Claire withdrew her arm from around Amanda’s waist.

“I’m afraid it’s Ryan. Alice found his body about seven-thirty this morning when she went over to the cottage to give him a message. No one was answering the phone. She found him lying on the greenhouse floor. He’d … been shot.” She shuddered. “One of those pig notes was found in his hand.
This little piggy had none
”

Slowly, Sophie closed her hands around the back of a chair.

“There was no sign of a fight or a forced entry.”

“Please,” said Amanda. “Come sit down. We all need each other’s support at a time like this.”

Sophie sat down on the piano bench. “Have the police been here?”

“Come and gone,” continued Claire. “They only stayed at the house for a few minutes. They spent most of their time over at the cottage.”

Amanda put her face in her hands and began to sob.

“It’s Luther,” said Claire, her voice gentle. She rubbed her hand soothingly across Amanda’s back. “The police have arrested him. Another gun was taken from the case in his study. They haven’t found it yet, but they seem sure Luther is responsible.”

Sophie wished she knew what to do. It was a horribly impotent feeling to just sit and watch Amanda cry. Amanda did look a sight this morning, as if she’d been abruptly awakened and simply tossed on an old robe. Her hair wasn’t combed and, without the help of her usual makeup, the tracery of age was clearly visible in the texture of the skin around her mouth. Deep lines around her eyes made her look every day of her forty-five years. “What about Jenny? Where was she last night?”

“That’s just it,” said Claire. “Jenny wasn’t around when the police arrived this morning. Their bed hadn’t even been slept in. While they were examining the greenhouse, she drove up. Apparently she claims she and Ryan had a bad fight last night. She said she left about seven and drove around until almost midnight. She found a motel up the shore and spent the night. She didn’t want to drive back because of the fog.”

“Did she say what the fight was about?”

“If she did, I didn’t hear.”

Sophie folded her arms protectively over her chest. “Not much of an alibi, if you ask me.”

“It would seem they think they have their man.” Claire glanced cautiously at Amanda.

Snuffling back tears, Amanda pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her robe. “Worst of all is what Nora told them.”

“And what was that?”

Amanda wiped her nose. “She said she went out for a walk last evening around ten. She and Jack had had another one of their … disagreements. She wanted some fresh air. I don’t know why, but she took the path through the pine woods. As she passed the cottage, she just happened to look inside. She said she saw Ryan and my daughter Chelsea having a rather intense discussion. You can imagine how she made it sound. The police insist they need to talk to Chelsea about it. I called just as soon as they left to warn her. She’s got to deny it!”

“But if it’s true?”

“Of course it’s not true. What business would she have with him? Nora’s just trying to make trouble. Trying to throw suspicion away from herself. I mean, what about her? She had plenty of opportunity!”

“But no motive,” interjected Claire.

“Well, maybe not, but it won’t work. My daughter is completely innocent. And I’ve already called a lawyer about getting Luther released. He’ll be home in a few hours.”

Claire cleared her throat. “I think it may take more time than that, Amanda. You have to be realistic.”

Amanda glowered.

“This kind of stress could be too much for Luther,” said Sophie. “He should tell what he knows. Maybe they’d let him go.”

“What do you mean by that?” Amanda’s face momentarily registered intense distress.

“Well, ah … all I meant to say was that he knows he’s innocent. He needs to make them understand that!” Something told her it wasn’t prudent to mention that Luther thought he knew who the killer was.

Amanda continued to stare. “That’s good of you to worry, but Luther will be fine. He knows the police want to interrogate Chelsea and he’s very upset about it. He demanded that Wardlaw leave her alone. After all, they have him, why do they need to bother her?”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Jorensen.” Alice drooped against the edge of the archway. “Mr. Jorensen is on the phone for you.”

Quickly, Amanda followed her out into the hall. Turning slowly to Claire, Sophie waited until Amanda was out of earshot before saying, “She’s in bad shape. I’ve never seen her so on edge.”

“I know.” Claire reached for the pack of cigarettes Nora had left lying on the coffee table. She seemed embarrassed as she tapped one out. “In times of stress I always break my own rules. Old habits die hard.” She picked up a lighter.

“I know about the Saltzman Clinic, Claire. And the file Amanda was supposed to burn. I also know about your relationship with her.”

Claire’s hand shook as she lifted the cigarette to her mouth. “Jesus, do you have this entire place bugged?”

“Are you going to answer me?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a question.”

“Why didn’t Amanda burn that fIle?”

Claire inhaled deeply, blowing smoke directly at her. It was a stalling gesture, yet Sophie knew there was more than a hint of defiance in it as well. “Well, I suppose she thought it might give her some leverage over Jack. Maybe even Nora.”

“I can’t believe she’d do that.”

“No? Then you don’t know her as well as you think.”

“That’s an awful thing to say!”

“You wanted the truth, didn’t you?” Her entire body seemed to deflate. “Okay, maybe I’m wrong. To be honest, I don’t know any more. It just seems like, when you enter this house, there’s a rule that you have to leave your conscience at the door.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You think so?” Her glance was sharp. “Well, maybe it’s just me. I’ve let my emotions cloud my judgment and I’m trying to find someone to blame. It’s happened before, but this time I’m in way over my head.”

“What do you mean?”

Claire smoked the cigarette absently, letting some ash fall onto the Oriental rug. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”