Murder Most Persuasive

Chapter 16

Sunday dawned another glorious fall day. Well, I assumed it dawned that way, as I wasn’t awake for the actual occurrence. Over the years, I’ve found the whole “crack of dawn” experience to be wholly overrated. Besides, given the week we’d had, Ann and I agreed that sleeping in was a priority. Of course, truth be told, I’d be hard-pressed to name a time when sleeping in isn’t a priority for me.

We had planned a leisurely morning of drinking coffee on the back patio and tackling nothing more strenuous than the crossword puzzle (in People, not The New York Times) before heading out for St. Michaels. Ann had called Nana the night before to make sure our visit wasn’t inconvenient. Nana had been thrilled and had insisted on us coming for lunch. Kit, of course, had been just as thrilled when we called her with the plan. Out of politeness, I won’t mention my reaction to hearing that Kit was joining us, but I can tell you that “thrilled” wasn’t it.

Which is why, I suppose, I was irritated to awake to a ringing doorbell at the ungodly hour of eight thirty. I was even more irritated upon opening the door to discover that it was Kit who was doing the ringing. Her blond hair was shinning, her face was dewy fresh, and her linen jumper actually looked like it had been ironed. She could have been the cover girl for Fit Pregnancy. Scarlett yipped at her in apparent annoyance. I didn’t stop her.

“Goodness, you certainly aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” Kit said, her expression disdainful as her eyes traveled from my bed head to my oversized T-shirt and boxers to the pièce de résistance—my well-worn bunny slippers. “I hope you never let Peter see you like this—he’ll run screaming. Don’t tell me that you’re still in bed at this hour!”

“Clearly not, Kit,” I said. “I am standing here. Answering the door. For you.”

“Well, aren’t you Miss Grumpy today!” she said as I turned and headed for the kitchen like a lion stalking a gazelle to make myself some much-needed coffee. Kit trailed after me, still talking. “I can’t believe you’re not up yet!” she said. “For goodness’ sake, I’ve been up for hours. I even worked out already. I’ve been doing this great pregnancy yoga workout. You know, you should try it.”

“Thank you, but I am not pregnant,” I pointed out.

“Well, I know that! God forbid! Mom would freak if you showed up pregnant. That would be the straw that broke the camel’s back!” She said this in such a horrified tone it was almost as if she thought I actually was pregnant.

“Kit!” I said, a warning note in my voice.

For once she got the point. “All I’m saying is that if you ever finally do get married and start a family, you are going to be the quintessential grouchy expectant mother.” She giggled, apparently tickled at the thought. “I can just see you, lying on the couch, moaning, and still wearing those awful bunny slippers.”

“Remind me why you’re here again? At eight thirty in the morning?” I asked, as I loaded the coffeemaker.

“I thought we should get an early start.”

“Why on earth would we need an early start?” I asked. “We aren’t expected at Nana’s until noon, and it’s only a forty-five-minute drive. Besides, premature arrival is a most untoward event.” Before Kit could reply, I went on, “Maybe you should go spread your sunshine around someone else. I’ve not had my coffee yet and without it, I really can’t ensure your safety.”

Ann stumbled into the kitchen just then, still wiping sleep from her eyes. “Oh, hello, Kit,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“No earthly reason why you should have,” I said, before hitting Start on the coffeemaker.

“Elizabeth is grouchy,” Kit announced to Ann as if I were a five-year-old.

“You know what else Elizabeth is?” I snapped, spinning around to let Kit have a piece of my mind. Granted, at this hour of the morning without the benefit of caffeine, my mind, let alone a piece of it, was apt to be pathetic. But I was determined.

Ann, who clearly knew me better than my own sister, took one look at me and saw that words were about to be said. Lovely, insulting, vulgar words. I didn’t go to an all-girls Catholic school for nothing. Those girls know how to curse. Some even minored in it. I opened my mouth ready to give Kit an earful.

Quickly cutting in, Ann said, “She’s a wonderful friend and cousin who has had a long week. Now, Kit, why don’t you come outside with me and sit on the back patio? It’s really lovely in the morning.” With a friendly wink at me, Ann steered Kit outside to safety.

By the time I finished getting the coffee and the bagels ready, I was in a much calmer mood. Loading everything onto a tray, I headed out to join Ann and Kit. It was another glorious day. The sky was a clear blue with a soft cool breeze coming out of the north. Or the south. I really couldn’t tell. My sense of direction is pretty lousy.

“So explain to me again why do you think Nana will be able to shed some light on this business,” Kit was saying to Ann. I put the tray down on the table between them and handed Ann her coffee. She gave me a grateful smile and took a large sip before answering.

“It’s nothing specific,” she said slowly. “Like I said yesterday, it’s just that Nana had a way of knowing everything that was going on. Part of her job was heading off trouble before it occurred—not an easy job with any of us, but especially Reggie. Let’s just say she was very good at her job. She had a kind of sixth sense with us.”

“I do remember that she never liked Michael,” I added as I dropped into a chair and helped myself to a warm bagel. “She was right about him.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she knows what happened to him,” Kit pointed out.

“Of course not,” I said, “but she might have some information that could shed a little light on the situation.”

Ann stared into her coffee cup. “I just hope it’s a good light,” she said quietly.

As planned, we arrived in St. Michaels a little before noon. A quaint waterfront town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, St. Michaels is known for its striking churches, elegant homes, and fashionable shopping. Nana lived in a picturesque two-story white colonial not far from the center of town. Ancient trees graced the front yard, their leafy branches looping low across the manicured lawn. Sunlight bounced off the calm blue water out back.

“Wow!” Kit exclaimed upon seeing the house as we pulled into the curved driveway. “Her house is gorgeous! It must be worth at least a million dollars! Just what kind of salary did Uncle Marty pay her?”

“Actually, I think her brother left her some money. She bought the house right after she stopped working for Dad. Right after I left for London,” Ann said.

Nana opened the door and waved happily to Ann. She looked just like you’d expect someone nicknamed Nana to look. A petite woman, with a round face, sharp blue eyes, and shoulder-length hair pulled back with a black velvet ribbon. Granted she had changed somewhat since the days she managed the Reynolds children. Now in her late sixties, her hair, once a rich shade of chestnut, had faded to a silvery white, and faint wrinkles lined her checks and forehead. Her carriage, however, had not succumbed to age; she still moved with the same assured ramrod posture that instilled both fear and respect.

Ann bounded out of the car and ran to Nana on the doorstep and enveloped her in a giant hug. It wasn’t the friendly hug you give an old acquaintance—this was the needy hug of a child seeking comfort. Ann seemed to sag into Nana.

“How are you holding up, honey? Are you okay?” Nana asked softly as she gently stroked Ann’s back.

Ann’s reply was muffled and she kept her head buried in Nana’s shoulder. After a moment she stepped back. Her eyes were a tad red, but she seemed in control.

Nana glanced my way. “Hello, Elizabeth,” she said. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine, Nana,” I replied. “It’s good to see you.” Gesturing to Kit, I added, “Have you met my sister, Kit?”

Nana politely shook Kit’s hand before turning back to me. “I have to admit, Elizabeth, I hardly recognized you at the funeral. I must say, you’ve certainly changed since I last saw you. You’re so tall and slim!”

I may have neglected to mention before now that as a child I ate my feelings, feelings that usually manifested themselves as chocolate doughnuts and sausage pizza (it’s been my experience that feelings rarely take the form of, say, carrots or celery). So what I’m saying is that I was on the heavy side. Still, there was no call for Kit to snigger (yes, snigger!) and say, “Yes, Elizabeth was something of a porker when she was younger.”

Repressing the urge to deck Kit right there on the front lawn, I instead sweetly said, “Yes, but these days it’s Kit who has the extra weight, but, of course, that’s because she’s expecting. We’re all so excited.”

Distracted by Nana’s coos of congratulation, Kit didn’t have time to decipher if my comment was intentionally snarky (it was). Once she finished congratulating Kit, Nana invited us into her house. Although it was large and spacious, it had a cozy, snug feel to it. The foyer was simple, with a wide-planked wood floor and a high ceiling. Nana led us into a cheerful sitting room that boasted a vaulted ceiling with exposed beams and a wall of windows that afforded a stunning view of the water.

Nana directed us to take seats, before asking in a serious voice, “So, how are you doing, Ann? The truth.” Kit and I sat down on a canary yellow couch, while Ann took a seat on a club chair upholstered in red gingham. Nana sat down in its twin and studied her old charge with a concerned expression.

Ann shrugged before answering. “I’m not going to lie to you, Nana. The past few days have been terrible. It’s been bad enough dealing with Dad’s death and all the aftermath, but I’ve had to relive some really painful memories.”

Ann fell silent. Nana said nothing. She knew Ann well enough to let her talk at her own pace. After a moment, Ann told Nana of Michael’s attack. Nana’s blue eyes grew dark with anger. “That son of a bitch,” she muttered. Ann nodded in full agreement and then said, “But, honestly, the worst of it is that Joe is in charge of the investigation.”

A knowing expression crept into Nana’s eyes. Even after all these years, she didn’t need to be reminded who Joe was. “Ah, so Joe is back in the picture, is he?” she said thoughtfully.

Ann flushed. “He’s not back in that way.”

Nana looked unconvinced but did not press the topic. “Well, tell me then, what’s happened so far with the investigation?”

Ann quickly and succinctly brought Nana up to date with everything that had happened so far. Nana sighed and shook her head. “I always thought that Michael would come to a bad end, but I never envisioned this.”

“Did you never like him?” Ann asked.

“I have to admit that at first I thought he was charming. He knew how to work people. But after a while I sensed that his charm was all an act. There was an aspect of him that was closed off. I don’t know how to explain this, but there was something artificial about him that bothered me.” Nana looked at us as if at a loss for words. “You never got the impression of a true burst of feeling,” she finally said. “I tried to talk to Reggie about it, but she was beyond reason when it came to him. She was head over heels about that boy.”

“But she nevertheless ended it,” I pointed out.

Nana nodded. “True, but I always thought there was more to it. I sometimes wondered if they didn’t just have a minor tiff and Reggie overreacted and ended things. I don’t have to remind you about her temper. She may have assumed that he would come back, hat in hand, and that they would work it out.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Kit exclaimed excitedly. “I told Elizabeth almost the same thing! When my husband and I were engaged, we had several big fights. It’s just such a stressful time. I don’t think most people realize that.”

“Did Reggie ever talk to you about the breakup?” I asked Nana, ignoring Kit.

Nana shook her head. “No. She pretended not to care, but I remember the day the workman came and took back her wedding arch. At that point we’d learned about the embezzlement, but she still burst into tears when it was loaded onto the truck. Her pride may not have allowed her to ever take him back, but that didn’t mean her heart wasn’t hurt.”

“I have to admit to you, Nana,” said Ann, “I’m worried that the police aren’t going to focus on anyone besides me. I wondered if you remember anything about the weekend of Dad’s Fourth of July party—that’s the last time any of us saw him.”

Nana considered for a moment. “Hang on,” she said and rose from her chair. She went to a built-in bookshelf on the far wall. “I still have my journals from back then.”

“You kept your journals? This long?” Ann asked in surprise. “Why?”

Nana shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Hard to say, really. But every time I try to get rid of them, I end up feeling like I’m throwing away those years. But maybe it’ll help us out today. Maybe I wrote something that could be useful.” I was impressed. The extent of my record keeping is what I throw into my purse. Meaning at any given time you can find scraps of paper with phone numbers scribbled on them but no helpful accompanying name and crumpled Starbucks receipts from two years ago.

After studying the shelves for a few minutes, Nana pulled out a thick leather volume and returned to her chair. Opening the book, she flipped to the week in question and read over her notes. “Hmmm…” she said, tapping a slender finger on the page, “I have here that after the party on the fourth, the family returned to the house in Georgetown on the fifth, as construction on the pool was scheduled to begin later that day. Oh, apparently though, your father and Bonnie had a fight on the night of the fifth because I have here that Bonnie returned to St. Michaels that night.”

“She left? The fight was that bad? Do you remember what the fight was about?” Ann asked.

“No. I’m sorry to say that fights between them were not uncommon. Depending on how bad they were, Bonnie usually took off for St. Michaels to pout for a day or so.” Nana looked back to the journal and read some more. As she did, her lips pulled into a frown and her brows pulled together.

“What is it?” asked Ann.

Nana didn’t answer right away; she seemed to be internally debating something. “I don’t know if I should say this,” she finally said. “Normally I wouldn’t, but given the circumstances…”

“What?” Ann asked impatiently.

“Well, I have a note here that when I went back to the St. Michaels house on the fifteenth to supervise the pickup of Reggie’s wedding arch, I found that Bonnie had had company. She’d left two wineglasses and an empty bottle of wine out on the back porch. Of course, it would never occur to her to clean up after herself.”

No one spoke at first. I knew what I was thinking: Bonnie had entertained a male visitor while away from Uncle Marty. I wondered if anyone else shared my view. “Do you think…” I began.

Nana tipped her white head in acknowledgment at my unfinished question. “I’m sorry to say that it wouldn’t surprise me. Neither of them was happy in that marriage. Your father had a mistress of sorts with his business. Bonnie was left largely bored and with a lot of free time. That’s never a good combination.”

Ann sat with a bewildered expression on her face. “Bonnie with another man? I guess it doesn’t surprise me, given her selfish personality, but she always made such a big production of adoring my dad.”

“That she did,” Nana said noncommittally.

Ann glanced up. “You think it was just that, don’t you? A production—an act.”

“I think that she was a foolish young woman who could be easily led astray,” Nana said. “I also think she was very lonely.”

Ann slumped against the chair’s cushioned backing. “Wow. Bonnie and another man. But who? Do you have any idea who it might have been?”

Nana shook her head. “No. And before you go off half-cocked, my dear, remember this is all rank speculation,” she said with an admonishing wag of her finger. “We have no proof of anything. Two wineglasses and an empty bottle doesn’t necessarily add up to an affair.”

“No, but it means she had company,” Ann replied.

“Which is not a crime in your own home,” Nana pointed out reasonably. And giving Ann and me a pointed look, she added, “I daresay you young ladies have been known to finish a bottle yourselves.” Ann and I studiously looked at each other as if we had no idea what Nana could possibly mean. She laughed and changed the subject. “Now why don’t we move out to the back patio? It’s still warm out. I thought we could eat lunch out there.”

We all moved to the kitchen to help Nana with lunch. By unspoken agreement, the subjects of Bonnie and Michael’s murder were dropped. Unfortunately, they were replaced by the subject of Kit’s pregnancy (two guesses who brought that up). As we helped to bring the Cobb salad out to the porch, Kit began to discuss in detail her preferred birthing method (natural) and her reasons for it (immediate bonding with the baby). Perhaps to tune out a monologue that I already knew by heart, I found my brain focusing on something else: could Bonnie’s visitor have been Michael?