Homicide In The Hydrangeas Page 2

  It didn’t escape her notice that he had used her first name. She nodded. “I understand the gravity of the situation, Detective. You have my word that I shall maintain the utmost care as your team handles this investigation.”

  Ivan realized she, too, had been careful with her words. Araminta Moorecliff had never been one to sit out an investigation, and her answer had been quite vague. His grandfather had warned him about Araminta’s stubborn streak, and he was certain she would continue to investigate. He was about to let her know he was aware of the subtleties in her word choices, but then Stephanie Moorecliff walked into the room beside her brother and he forgot what he’d been about to say.

  “Good morning, Ms. Moorecliff. I apologize that we must again meet on such dark terms, but I’m afraid I must ask you some questions.”

  Stephanie’s bright smile lit up the room, and Ivan almost forgot his entire reason for being there.

  “Oh, it’s no bother, Detective Hershey. I mean, the circumstance is terrible, to be sure, but I am most delighted to see you.”

  His questions didn’t take long, sadly, and Ivan thanked her for her time then moved on to the household staff. There had been another murder at Moorecliff Manor last night or early this morning. Though he’d have rather gone somewhere quiet and chatted with the youngest Moorecliff female, he had a job to do and needed to get at it.

  Was this how his grandfather had felt about Araminta all those years ago when he’d been the lead detective? Looking at her now, Ivan made a quick comparison between her and Ms. Stephanie then shook his head. She must have given him a real problem back in the day, because whenever old cases were brought up, the first thing his grandfather mentioned was how he’d tried his best but usually failed to get the jump on Araminta.

  A few minutes with the gardener told Ivan there would be no real information this time coming out of Moorecliff Manor. Yancy had noticed trampling of the rhododendron a few nights ago and put it down to the encroachment of local wildlife—same as he had when he’d seen crumpled forsythia the night before. Today, he swore vehemently, was the first time he’d seen a body—dead or otherwise.

  Shortly thereafter, Ivan took his leave, but not before promising Ms. Stephanie that the minute he learned something, he would be sure to give them a call.

  Having walked the detective to the door herself, at Araminta’s urging, Stephanie thanked him, said a polite goodbye, then closed the door behind him.

  The minute his car started, however, her smile wilted into a concerned frown. “I am not sure what is happening here, but I am certain something I need to be aware of is going on.”

  She walked back to the sofa and sat with her legs tucked up under her before pinning each of her relatives with a pointed stare. “You three, sit. Tell me what happened with this Tony ‘the Fist’ Romano character.”

  When all three of her family members seemed hesitant, she demanded, “As a member of the Moorecliff family, I have every right to know what is going on.”

  Chapter Four

  Reginald was the first to give in, his worried expression changing to one of puckish fun. “For shame, Aunt Minta. You just lied to the cops!”

  Araminta simply shrugged, feeling only a smidge of guilt at her half-truths. Her investigation would not hinder the police in any way and could only help. Even the cats seemed to agree, if the look of approval on their furry faces was any indication.

  Reggie joined Stephanie on the sofa. “I’m a blight upon the family, Steph. I like chance. Too much. I’ve played one too many times at betting on uneven odds.”

  Daisy made a shushing noise. “You gambled your father’s money away and were too ashamed to admit what you’d done or that you’d lost.”

  She didn’t sit with Stephanie and Reggie on the sofa. Instead, she opted for the lush ruby upholstered armchair, leaving the other for Araminta.

  “You did not.” Steph picked up Sasha and cuddled her in her lap as if for comfort. “You wouldn’t do that Reg, would you?”

  “He did, Steph,” Araminta confessed. “Unfortunately, he isn’t very good at it.”

  “But I don’t understand what this has to do with the dead man in the garden or with the Tony guy that Ivan… I mean, Detective Hershey… mentioned.”

  “Tony came after Reggie, or rather, the money Reggie owed him. Do you know how devastated your father would have been to discover your brother was in trouble with the leader of a local organized crime cartel?”

  Stephanie’s eyes rounded. “So... what happened? Aunt Minta, what did you do?”

  Araminta shook her head. “Not I, dear girl. This was all your stepmother. Daisy met with the man and quietly paid him off.”

  “So you did know him? Oh, my word!” Stephanie looked at her aunt and her stepmother before turning to her brother, her expression one of utter shock. “You three really did just lie to the cops.”

  Araminta brushed her shock aside. “Only a bit. Just because we know ‘of’ Tony Romano doesn’t mean we know the man. As for the dead man in the hydrangeas, this Joey Tortellini or whatever his name was, not one word of that was a lie. Neither of us have seen him before.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Daisy said softly. All eyes turned in her direction.

  “What?”

  Daisy’s face showed high color. Clearly she was embarrassed by what she’d said, but apparently she wasn’t afraid to talk. “Before I met your father, I—I worked for Tony. Not directly, mind you, but close enough to know what he was up to and which of his crew he considered to be at the top. Joey was one of the few who managed to win Tony’s trust. I didn’t know him well, only in passing. In fact, I actually didn’t even realize that was him in the garden.” Daisy shuddered and glanced out the window.

  Stephanie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Daisy! You used to work for the local mafia? How in the world did you meet our dad?”

  Reggie, too, leaned forward, eager to hear the story.

  Daisy brushed away their questions with a wave of her hand. “None of that matters now. It was a long time ago—in what seems like another life. My point is that I felt mentioning to the detective how I knew Tony Romano and the deceased might put me in a bad light.”

  “Exactly,” Araminta said. “And if the detective knew Reggie had owed him money…”

  “That might not go over so well, either,” Stephanie finished for her.

  Daisy nodded. “I don’t want either of you to feel you owe me anything, but for the same reason, I paid the debt owed to Tony on Reggie’s behalf—”

  “Out of love and respect for our father,” Stephanie said, looking at Daisy with something akin to admiration. She was beginning to see her stepmother in a whole new light.

  Daisy accepted what she had said with another nod then continued. “To protect your father and the family’s reputation, I would prefer to keep our involvement—however brief or long ago it occurred—out of our conversations with Detective Hershey and his team.”

  Stephanie nodded. “We are family, the four of us. We have to stick together.”

  “Meow!” Arun, who had been grooming behind his ears, voiced his agreement.

  After another half hour or so of discussion about Daisy and Tony Romano, Araminta excused herself to retire to her room for a bit. She needed to think on everything that had happened today and figure out why the body of Joey Tuccalini, or whatever his name was, had ended up on their lawn.

  Was there more to Daisy’s story than she’d revealed thus far? Or had Reggie gone back to his bad habits? Right now, she had no idea, but she did have a clue. The matchbook from the Lantern Lounge. Despite Detective Hershey’s warning about putting herself in the path of obvious danger, it took Araminta only a moment to decide that she’d spent far too much time in the manor of late. She was in need of an outing, and she had the exact place in mind.

  Dressed in her best orange-and-yellow outfit—one perfectly fitting for a “lantern” lounge—she picked up a lime-green purse and went downstairs
to have Harold order a car. She was waiting for it to arrive when Stephanie popped out of the parlor, took one look at her attire, and asked where she was going.

  “The Lantern Lounge,” Araminta told her, then she told her about the matchbook that the cats had found beside the body before the police arrived. “I thought I could drop in, have myself an appetizer and a drink or two. Maybe there would even be a clue to be found. Considering all we’ve dealt with throughout the past several weeks at Moorecliff Manor, no one can say I don’t deserve a bit of time outside the house.”

  Stephanie had a moment before she could form the words she obviously wanted to say, but she finally found her tongue. “Aunt Minta, the Lantern Lounge? Um—maybe you should change? Or perhaps you should simply forego the outing entirely, because the Lantern is definitely not that kind of lounge.”

  “Now dear, I’m not a teetotaler, you know. I’ve had my share of evenings sipping martinis and eating appetizers.” If only Stephanie knew how many martinis she’d knocked back in her younger days, the girl would probably be scandalized.

  “Ummm, Auntie, I don’t think it’s that kind of a lounge,” Stephanie said.

  Araminta’s gaze dropped to the cats, who were prancing around the doorway, their whiskers twitching as they took in every word. Arun hopped up onto a side table that held Daisy’s latest vase of flowers, and Araminta pet the cat as she looked quizzically at Stephanie. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a strip club,” Reggie volunteered from the parlor door, where he’d come to see what was taking Stephanie so long to rejoin them.

  “I see,” Araminta said, then without batting a lash, she started back upstairs.

  “Where are you going?” Stephanie asked.

  “To change, darling. Orange and yellow would clash badly under such lights. Don’t worry. I have an outfit for that type of lounge too.”

  No wonder Stephanie had been acting so odd about it. The girl was right; Araminta’s outfit was completely wrong for a strip club. When she came back downstairs, she was wearing a gaudy, hot-pink sequined top and lime-green pants that Stephanie thought might be just a shade too tight for a woman her age.

  The cats seemed to approve though, so Araminta pooh-poohed her grandniece’s concern and opened the door to leave. Her car had finally arrived.

  “Hold on, Aunt Minta. I’m going with you,” Stephanie declared. “If you’re set on going, you need someone familiar that you can trust by your side.”

  Chapter Five

  The inside of the Lantern Lounge was dimly lit. There was a long bar along one wall and several dark booths on the sides and round tables in the middle. Araminta had settled in one of the booths in the back, closest to the door, after a short walk across the sticky floor.

  The booth was upholstered in red Naugahyde, and Araminta scooted in against the wall to avoid having to lean against the scratchy seam that had ripped open, exposing the spongy fill. The pulsing beat of music filled the air, but since it was still before noon, the place wasn’t very crowded. Stephanie volunteered to go to the bar, and Araminta waited in the booth, scanning the place for clues.

  What type of clue might she find in the lounge?

  Perhaps some seedy patron acting weird. But there were scant few patrons, all of them just shadows sitting and nursing beers, their eyes directed toward the stage.

  Araminta’s gaze skittered past the stage, barely paying attention to the girl who was attempting maneuvers around a pole that Araminta couldn’t have pulled off even in her younger days.

  Did the victim frequent this bar, or was his association much closer? She’d heard a rumor about organized crime being tied to the strip clubs in town. Maybe Joey had worked there.

  Her best bet might be to talk to the staff. Maybe the bartender or perhaps the girl on stage.

  Her gaze drifted back to the stage. The girl was quite lovely and… wait… she looked somewhat familiar.

  No. It couldn’t be—

  “Here are our drinks, Aunt Araminta,” Stephanie said, sliding into the booth across from her.

  Araminta didn’t even glance at the pink cosmopolitan that Steph slid in front of her. She was too busy craning her neck and squinting at the dancer to see if it really was who she thought it was.

  “What’s wrong? People expect to see exotic dancers at a place like this, you know.” Stephanie winked and sipped her drink.

  “Of course they do,” Araminta agreed. “But it’s usually not their housemaid.”

  “Huh?” Steph looked confused as she glanced at Araminta over the rim of her drink.

  “Our housemaid. Trinity.” Araminta pointed to the stage. “I do believe that’s her up on stage.”

  Stephanie turned to have a closer look and gasped. “Oh, sweet Sam, it is Trinity!”

  The song wound down, and Araminta stood. “Something must be wrong. No one moonlights on the Moorecliff family without a darn good reason, because if there’s one thing the Moorecliffs can pride themselves on, it is that the family has always paid well for our help. We have to get backstage and find out what’s going on with the poor girl.”

  Stephanie grabbed her purse, took a quick sip of her drink, and nodded. “You’re right. I know the bouncer here. He’ll know how to get us back there.”

  With Stephanie leading the way toward the back of the club, Araminta had a moment when she truly wished she’d brought the cats along. Something didn’t seem quite up to par with this place, but she didn’t know what it could be.

  “I’m not sure I like that you’re on friendly terms with the bouncer, Steph.”

  The girl laughed. “I’m not a child anymore, Aunt Minty. I’m allowed to make my own friends now.”

  A tall, beefy man stood at the backstage entrance. He scowled at them as they approached, but then his face broke into a smile when he recognized Stephanie.

  “Stephanie! How’s it hanging?” he asked.

  “Pretty good, Sal. This is my great-aunt, Araminta.” She gestured toward Araminta.

  Sal nodded at Araminta. “Nice to meet ya.” He turned to Stephanie. “How is Daisy?”

  Sal knew Daisy too? Did everyone in town know her? Araminta had had no idea that her niece-in-law got around so much. Maybe she didn’t know Daisy as well as she’d thought she did.

  “She’s fine, Sal.” Stephanie put her hand on Sal’s bullying bicep and batted her eyelashes. “We were wondering if we could get backstage. We know the dancer that was just on.”

  “Oh, sure. Follow me.”

  Araminta screwed up her nose at the scent of stale cigar wafting off of Sal as she followed behind him and Stephanie.

  Within minutes, the two ladies were backstage, waiting comfortably in the dressing room with drinks in hand that Sal had assured them were on the house. Trinity stepped in the room and stopped for a second, obviously shocked to find her employer’s family in her dressing room. Then she covered her face with her hands, and that’s when the tears started.

  “I didn’t mean to end up here,” she sobbed, “but Grams and my mother… the surgery, the medication…”

  Araminta set her drink on a table and stood to take the tearful girl into her embrace. “There, there. There’s no need for all that, Trinity. Calm yourself, then we will take one thing at a time, starting with what on earth you’re doing here.”

  Stephanie handed her own drink to Trinity. “Here. Sip this. It will calm your nerves.”

  Trinity nodded and took a few sips from the drink while Araminta led her to a chair and waited while she sat. After a moment, she had the tears under control again. But before she attempted to explain, the first words out of her mouth were, “I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed in me.”

  Stephanie waved away her words. “Disappointed? More like concerned. Trinity, you should have come to one of us if you needed more money.”

  Trinity was already shaking her head. “No, I could never do that. The Moorecliffs have already been more than generous with me. If not for you and the inherita
nce fund from Mister Archie, I would not have been able to add to the small amount left of Mother’s retirement, which enabled us to pay for Grams’s surgery.”

  “Your grandmother is ill? You should have mentioned it, Trinity. Daisy and I have a charity organization we set up to help with things like that,” Araminta told her.

  Rather than ease her mind, all Araminta’s words managed to do was make her look more miserable. “I’m afraid even that would not have helped. You see, Grams needed a specific kind of surgery—one our insurance didn’t cover. We had to find a way to come up with all the funds ourselves.”

  “Hm. I suppose that is why you didn’t mention making any sort of investment yourself when the others were mentioning where they’d put the money they received from Archie’s will.”

  Trinity nodded. Her fingers were still white where she gripped the drink in her hands. Stephanie urged her to take another sip. “I didn’t dare mention any of this to Ms. Daisy either. She’s my employer. I—I was terrified she would question my tiredness of late, or worse, that she would fire me. But I guess it was inevitable you all would eventually find out about me and my secret second job.”

  Araminta looked at her kindly. “And so we have, Trinity, which means you can stop.”

  “Stop?” Trinity looked askance at her. “I can’t. You don’t understand. Not that I’m not paid well for my work at the Manor, although Ms. Daisy will likely fire me now. But Grams’s meds… Ms. Moorecliff, even together with the small stipend my mother gets every month, there’s not enough between the two of us to get them. I need this job because I need the extra money to make sure Grams has what she needs and doesn’t have a reason to relapse.”

  Araminta pshawed. “Daisy isn’t going to fire you over a little second job, but you are to quit effective immediately, Trinity. We will find another way to get you the money. We won’t allow you to sacrifice your dignity. Don’t worry about your grandmother. I’ll make sure she gets what she needs personally.”