Eaves of Destruction Read online

  “I wonder if your pal Petsy did, too.”

  “She did, according to Matthew.” I grimaced. “You still haven’t met her, but she would make the most perfect villain.”

  “Which means she’s the least likely to be guilty,” Mac said cheerfully.

  “But it would solve everything.” I shook my head. “There’s something else we haven’t talked about.”

  “I know,” Mac said thoughtfully. “Loretta was working for the Jorgensens when she had a baby.”

  “Yeah. What if that baby was Amanda?”

  “It’s possible.” Mac paced a few steps forward, then turned and faced me. “What about this? Matthew and Loretta have an affair. She gets pregnant. Matthew pays the good-natured Ernie to marry her.”

  “Oh man . . .”

  “And,” Mac continued, “Loretta couldn’t stay in a fake marriage so she left with the baby. Once she was gone, there was no reason to keep Ernie around when he knew so many secrets, so one quick tumble off the roof and problem solved.”

  I sighed. It made sense and I hated that. “He could’ve just slipped and fallen. But if he was pushed, I really hope that Petsy is the bad guy here. I like Matthew.”

  “That’s the kiss of death, right there,” Mac said, and gave me a quick, hard hug.

  “It’s possible that none of that is true and Loretta and Ernie were very happy together.”

  “You think?”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “No.”

  “That’s my girl.” He gave me an elbow nudge. “Let’s go back to the house. You can call your dad and we can find out who knew whom back then.”

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, sitting in Mac’s spacious living room, I disconnected from the call with Dad and gazed at Mac. “You heard him. They all knew one another. Scully, Loretta, Matthew, and Petsy.”

  “And your father and Uncle Pete.”

  “Right.”

  Mac seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. We had moved on from coffee to water and he took a long sip. “What he said about Loretta being a whiz with money is interesting. She was a housekeeper years ago. What is she doing these days? Didn’t you say she had dollar signs in her appointment book?”

  “Yes, and Jane agreed that she seemed to be a smart businesswoman. I was thinking she might’ve been in town to work some deal.” I grabbed my pen and notepad and started a brand-new list with my top four suspects. Then I stared at the page for a moment. “Don’t you think Stan and Joan Derry fit in here somewhere?”

  “I’ve never met them, but you have.” He shrugged. “The only thing we have on them is Scully’s body being found at their house.”

  “That’s kind of a lot,” I said.

  “Are they about the same age as the others?”

  “Stan looks about my father’s age, but Joan might be a little younger. I could find out.” I tapped my pen against my notebook. “And, you know, it might not even matter. Scully’s killer might be some contractor on a completely different job, totally unrelated to any of our suspects. Or it could be a family member of his.”

  “Right. And Loretta Samson could’ve committed suicide.”

  I looked at him wryly. “But we don’t believe that, either.”

  He grinned. “Nope. Because why would some unknown contractor or family member drag Scully over to the Derrys’ orangery and stab him with a chisel?”

  I chuckled lightly. “Good question. Okay, back to Stan and Joan.”

  “If I recall what you told me, Joan kicked Scully out of their house. And then Stan had a very loud, very public confrontation with him.”

  “Right.” I sighed. “And as you said, Scully’s body was found on their property.”

  Mac pointed to my list. “Okay, that’s two big strikes against both Stan and Joan, so they stay on the suspect list. For now, anyway.” He reached for his glass of water and took another drink, emptying the glass. “This is thirsty business. Do you want some more? Or I’ve got iced tea in the fridge.”

  “Water’s fine,” I said.

  He grabbed both of our glasses and walked into the kitchen. A minute later, he was back, setting the glasses on the table and sitting down next to me on the couch. “Let’s take each of the principals and go over them, one by one.”

  “Okay. I’ll start with Loretta.” I began ticking off everything I’d been told about her. “She had blond hair years ago. Now it’s darker. Big blue eyes. Good with money. Married Ernie. Housekeeper. Worked for the Jorgensens. Left town with her baby.” I frowned at Mac. “Why did she leave? And why didn’t Ernie go with her?”

  Mac’s lips twisted as he thought about that. “We’ve got one theory that says Ernie wasn’t the baby’s father.”

  “But he could’ve been. Then again, if not him, who else?”

  Mac grinned. “Not Scully.”

  “Oh dear God, no. And it wasn’t Uncle Pete,” I muttered. “I’ll bet my life on it.”

  “Who else could it be?” Mac said. “It’s got to be Matthew Jorgensen. He’s the only one that makes sense.”

  “I hate that it might be Matthew. He seems so solid and sweet and devoted. But if you’re right, then he was cheating on his wife with the housemaid. And even though his wife is the evil Petsy, that’s just tacky.”

  “It might not be Matthew.”

  “Yeah.” I was getting dizzy from all the possibilities. “Let’s stick with Loretta’s story for now. So, where did she go when she left Lighthouse Cove? What did she do?”

  He shrugged. “She traveled across the country, and when she got to Baltimore, she gave the baby up for adoption.”

  “So you’re set on thinking that Amanda’s mother is Loretta.”

  “We’re just hypothesizing here, but it makes sense. Especially when you take that photograph into consideration.”

  “I almost forgot that little detail. Amanda has that picture of herself as a baby in front of the Jorgensen mansion.”

  “A very significant little detail.”

  I sighed. “So, why would someone kill Loretta?”

  “We don’t actually know what she was doing in town.”

  “Maybe she followed Amanda from Baltimore to the West Coast.”

  “Or”—he emphasized the word—“maybe Amanda was following her.”

  “You really think Amanda tracked her here and killed her?” Having said it out loud, I was anxious now and stood up to pace around the room. I really didn’t want to think Amanda was a murderer. And the harder I tried to convince myself that she might be, the less the possibility worked for me. Amanda just didn’t ring any of the “danger” bells. After a few circuits, I stopped pacing and stood in front of Mac, ready to make my case. “That’s a really good theory about Amanda, but I hate it anyway. I just refuse to believe that Amanda killed Loretta, especially in such a gruesome way.”

  He reached out and took my hand. “I agree, so let’s come up with a better theory.”

  I nodded and blew out a relieved breath. “Okay. Let’s not forget that this wasn’t Loretta’s first visit here.”

  “That’s right,” Mac said, reflecting on that for a moment. “Cindy at the diner said she’s seen her a bunch of times, right?”

  “That’s right. She stayed at the Hennessey Inn for her last two visits. I wonder where she stayed before that.”

  “Does Loretta have family in town?” he wondered aloud. “Wait. Maybe she came back to visit Ernie’s family.”

  “Oh.” I thought about that possibility. “That would be nice.”

  “If Amanda is her daughter, she actually might’ve followed her out here this time. Maybe Loretta has always kept tabs on her, but never let her know it.” Mac took a drink of water. “So, now she’s out here, and maybe the deal she’s working on is a house. If Amanda’s moving here, then Loretta wants to be close by.”


  “I like it,” I said, nodding. “But why does she bring a different boyfriend each time? I mean, if she’s on business, why would she bring a date? Although I can’t blame her for wanting someone around when the business part of her day is over.”

  “I’m not even going to go there,” Mac said, shaking his head. “No man alive can figure out what women are actually thinking or what makes them do the things they do.”

  “I don’t know. I think you do a pretty good job of figuring us out most of the time.”

  “Sure, maybe I get it right once in a while, but not on a regular basis.”

  I laughed. “I like that you think we’re mysterious.”

  “I will say that I’ve noticed that some women like to have a man around the house. Or the inn, as the case may be.”

  I frowned. “It doesn’t really matter if she had a boyfriend with her. I was just being judgmental.”

  “It only matters if the boyfriend killed her.”

  “That’s true.” I took a big sip of water. “There are just too many questions. Was Matthew having an affair with Loretta? Was Amanda his daughter after all? Did he pay Loretta to leave town with the baby?”

  Mac had a few questions of his own. “Are you sure Jane didn’t see anyone visiting Loretta over the last few days?”

  “Just that one woman I told you about. And Jane still doesn’t know who she is.”

  “Okay, but what about the other people on her staff? Or her other guests?” Mac spoke quickly as different thoughts occurred to him. “Have the police questioned Loretta’s boyfriend?”

  “Mr. Winesap,” I murmured. “You know, he belongs on the suspect list.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll give Jane a call right now and you can ask her your questions.” I picked up my phone and hit Jane’s cell number. A moment later, she answered.

  “Hi, Shannon.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said, “but I’m here with Mac and we have a few questions about Loretta. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I would love to find out what happened.”

  “Okay, I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

  “Hi, Jane,” Mac said.

  Jane chuckled. “Hi, Mac.”

  I smiled. “First we wanted to know if the police questioned Mr. Winesap.”

  “Only for a few minutes,” she said. “He has an alibi. He was at Uncle Pete’s wine bar with the other guest I told you about.”

  I frowned. “Mr. Greenfield?”

  “Yes. They’ve gotten to be friends in the short time they’ve been here.”

  “That’s nice,” I said. And convenient, too, I thought. “So the police must have questioned Mr. Greenfield, also.”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I would guess so,” she said.

  “Now, you said you didn’t see anyone visiting Loretta, but did you happen to ask your staff about it?”

  She paused. “No, I didn’t think to ask anyone else.”

  “Did the police question them?”

  “They did. They were here for hours last night, asking questions and investigating.” She paused, and her voice dropped a little as she added, “I’m hoping my guests find this exciting and not horrifying. I know that sounds awful, but I’d hate to lose potential future guests because they were grilled by Eric.”

  “I’m sure he was tactful,” I said, and mentally crossed my fingers. “Eric’s pretty thorough about these things.”

  “He is,” she said. “He even wanted to take a look at my guest amenities—you know, the bath soap and shampoo and things we set out for guests.”

  “How come?”

  “Apparently there was a shower cap floating in the tub, and he wanted to know if it was part of our amenities package.”

  “A shower cap?” I glanced at Mac, who gave a clueless shrug. “That’s really interesting.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Mac held up his hand to interrupt our train of thought. “How about if we take some pictures over to show to Jane’s staff? Maybe they’ll recognize someone.”

  “That’s a great idea. Did you hear that, Jane?”

  “Yes, Mac. Come over anytime. I’m here all day.”

  “Thanks, Jane. We’ll see you in a while.”

  I ended the call and looked at Mac. “How do we get pictures of the suspects?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “The Jorgensens and the Derrys are fairly wealthy and probably give money to some local organizations. Wouldn’t their pictures be in the newspaper occasionally?”

  “Yes. That’s brilliant.”

  “I’ll get my computer.” He jogged down the hall and was back a minute later. Having set it up on the coffee table, he went online and found the website for the Lighthouse Standard, our local newspaper. A search for Petsy’s name turned up a recent column describing the Volunteer Guild’s annual fund-raising gala. There was a good picture of Petsy and Matthew in formal attire and he printed it out.

  Joan and Stan were a little harder to track down, but we finally found a photo of them taken at a high school football game last season. They were all bundled up, but I could still see their faces. Mac printed that photo, too.

  “I guess we should bring a picture of Amanda,” I said.

  “Why don’t we wait on that?” Mac said. “Neither of us thinks she had anything to do with this, so let’s not push it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Should we find a picture of Scully?” he asked. “Maybe one of Jane’s staff saw him with Loretta. His reaction to seeing her was so striking, there may be more to the story.”

  “Not a bad idea,” I said. Mac searched for the photo of Scully the paper had printed after his death. Then he walked back to his office and pulled the pages he’d printed.

  “These came out pretty good,” I said, when he showed them to me.

  “Yeah. I think we’re good to go.”

  On the drive over to Jane’s I kept going back to the grisly scene in Loretta’s bathroom the night before. Something had been bugging me and it had kept me awake most of the night.

  When he pulled to a stop at a red light, Mac reached over and squeezed my hand. “What’s going on? I can hear you thinking all the way over here.”

  I shook my head in frustration. “I was missing something, but I’m getting closer. I’ve almost got it figured out.”

  “It’s because there are too many pieces to this puzzle,” he said. “We can’t keep them all straight. Why don’t you go over your list again?”

  “Good idea.” I pulled the notepad from my purse and flipped it open to the list. I’d jotted down all the details I could come up with for each person. I started with Loretta. Wavy blond hair back when Uncle Pete knew her. Brunette now. Beautiful. Big blue eyes. Smart. Married Ernie. Left town. Baby. Businesswoman?

  I gazed up at Mac. “Uncle Pete said Loretta was a blonde back when he knew her. But her hair was darker when she died. Did she color her hair to disguise her appearance?”

  “It’s possible.” Mac watched the light turn green and he continued driving down Main Street.

  I turned in my seat and smiled happily at him. “I figured out what I was trying to remember.”

  “Great. Let’s hear it.”

  “Okay. I met Loretta and she had big blue eyes and her dark hair was thick and wavy. Jane called it ‘wash and wear.’”

  “Yeah? Where are you going with this?”

  “Here’s the thing. Trust me on this: with all that hair, she probably wore it pinned up last night when she got into the tub. It’s just a theory, but that’s what I would do. I know some women wash their hair in the bathtub, but I don’t like it. It’s too hard. You’ve got to shampoo and then rinse it under the tap. It’s a pain. But that’s just me. Some wom
en do it all the time.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. My point is, if she wasn’t washing her hair, she wouldn’t have needed a hair dryer.”

  “Ah. Very good point.” He grinned. “And it goes to our theory that she didn’t commit suicide.”

  “Exactly. But then along comes that stupid shower cap and blows my theory away.”

  “No, it doesn’t. It corroborates your theory.”

  “I know. It’s just that, well, my brain hurts from obsessing over hair and shampoo, and the shower cap was there all along.” I shook my head.

  He laughed, grabbed my hand, and squeezed. “You’re funny, Shannon Hammer.”

  “My only excuse is that this case is making me crazy.”

  “Right there with you, babe.”

  As Mac drove, I stared at the suspect list, absently twisting a thick strand of hair around my fingers as I did so.

  “You never play with your hair,” he said lightly. “Is something else on your mind?”

  I should’ve known he would be able to read my mood. “Yes, but it’s probably stupid.”

  “There are no stupid theories,” he intoned with the seriousness of a college professor.

  I laughed. “This one might be the exception to that rule. But here goes. Loretta had wavy blond hair and big blue eyes, according to Uncle Pete. And me. I mean, I didn’t see blond hair, but I saw her eyes.”

  “You told me that.”

  “A dozen times, right?” I smiled. “Sorry. I’m trying to work all this out.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Okay, so, Loretta is a blue-eyed blonde. Amanda has brown hair and brown eyes.”

  “What about Matthew?”

  “Dark hair. Dark eyes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I know that blond women can have dark-haired children, and I know that blue eyes are a recessive trait, but here’s the thing. I just can’t find any physical similarity between Loretta and Amanda. There’s nothing. Loretta was curvy; Amanda’s got more of a boyish figure. Loretta’s face was heart shaped while Amanda’s is more narrow. And Amanda has a longer chin. There’s more, but I just can’t . . .”