Murder at Lowry House (Hazel Martin Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “It’s so lovely to see you, Hazel. I’m glad you stopped by,” Myrtle said.

  “Well, I could hardly not come.” Hazel decided to get down to business before they were interrupted. “Tell me about your suspicions.”

  Myrtle lifted a brow. “Suspicions?”

  “The ones that make you think someone might be out to get you like you wrote about in your letter.”

  Myrtle’s eyes clouded, and she looked down at the deep-red, blue, and gold Oriental rug. “Oh, right. Those suspicions. Well, I hope you won’t think I’m just a silly old lady. Things have happened, but they could just be coincidence.”

  Hazel’s eyes narrowed. Was Myrtle having second thoughts about someone trying to kill her? She sounded so uncertain now, but one didn’t usually write letters summoning mystery writers to their homes to try to figure out which one of their relatives was trying to kill them if they weren’t absolutely sure. Then again, Myrtle had been showing signs of forgetfulness, so maybe she didn’t trust her instincts anymore.

  Hazel leaned forward and touched Myrtle’s knee. “Tell me what has been happening. If they are really coincidences, that will be good, right? Because otherwise…”

  “Right. Of course.” Myrtle pressed her lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “It all started about a month ago. There was an incident on my walk. I walk a regular route in the garden that skirts the steep hill on the west side of the property. It has lovely views, and Daddy had bricks laid on the path decades ago. Part of it must’ve washed out under the bricks, and I had a terrible fall.” Myrtle chuckled. “Gloria was with me, and you should’ve seen the look on her face. I took a good spill, but she caught me, and I bounced right back up. It takes much more than a tumble to do this old lady in.”

  Hazel tried to envision the path Myrtle was talking about. It sounded like something that could easily happen with natural causes, but also a clever killer could have tampered with it, knowing that Myrtle walked on it every day. An old lady like Myrtle could be killed in a fall like that if she hit her head. “Washed out? You mean by rain or something?”

  Myrtle nodded. “Yes. Leastways, that’s what Wes said.”

  “Wes was there, too?”

  “Not when I fell. Later on, I showed it to him to see what he thought about fixing it. Dooley, the gardener, shored it up with dirt and put the bricks back good as new. Though he was none too happy; seems the ground is riddled with roots, and it was a tough job. He said it would have been hard work to dig it out enough to cause the path to be unstable on purpose.” Myrtle shrugged.

  The path incident might have been just natural causes, but Hazel was suspicious, especially since Myrtle had implied that more had happened. “But that’s not the only suspicious thing that has happened, is it?”

  Myrtle blanched. “Well, maybe some of the other things were my own fault.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had an incident with my pills…”

  “Your pills?”

  “Yes, I may look young, but the truth is this old body does have some issues that need addressing. Oh, it’s nothing that’s going to kill me, unless, of course, I mix up my prescriptions. And that’s exactly what happened.” Myrtle leaned forward, obviously upset. “But I’m so careful about those pills because I know I have to be careful, as taking too many of those heart pills can be deadly. I can’t imagine I mixed things up. Some of my heart pills got in with my aspirin, and I took too many. But luckily it wasn’t enough to do me in.”

  “Who else has access to your pills?” Hazel wondered if someone could have tampered with them. It would have been an easy way to do away with someone and make it look like an accident. But with Myrtle’s memory issues, it wasn’t out of the question that she might have screwed them up herself.

  “I keep them in the bathroom in my suite, so anyone who was in the house could have accessed them.”

  “And who was in the house that day? Do you remember?”

  Myrtle pressed her lips together. “It was a Tuesday. The second Tuesday in July. I remember distinctly because Mrs. Naughton noticed I was acting funny. She called Dr. Wilkins, and he came right over, because his club is only a few miles from here, and he goes there the second and fourth Tuesdays of every month. We have family dinners on Sunday, but on Tuesday no one is here. Though Fran did come right away—almost got here before the doctor.”

  “Your family doesn’t stop in?”

  “No. Well, Wes and Vera are in the cottage, but they only pop in to visit me sometimes. Not that day, I don’t think. Fran has a flat in town, and Charles has his own country house. He doesn’t visit me so much. Of course, on special occasions like this, everyone stays at the house, but that wasn’t the case that day. Gloria comes most often, but she wasn’t there that day, as she’d been out of town on holiday. She was very upset when she returned to find out I hadn’t gotten in touch with her to call her back. But I would never have ruined her holiday for something silly like that. She doesn’t have much money and hardly ever gets to go anywhere.”

  Myrtle’s words piqued Hazel’s interest. Money was usually the prime motivation for killing someone. She made a mental note to ask Hazel about the beneficiaries of her will.

  “And then there’s the indigestion,” Myrtle continued.

  Hazel turned her attention back on Myrtle. “Indigestion?”

  Myrtle waved her hand in the air. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s unusual for a lady of my age to have indigestion, but I have been feeling rather sick, and I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except Gloria said—”

  A soft tap on the door interrupted Myrtle. The door opened a crack, and Hazel twisted in her chair to see Gloria look in. “Oh good, you two are in here.”

  “Do come in, Gloria.” Myrtle gestured for her to join them.

  Gloria slipped into the room, closed the door softly, and took the chair beside Myrtle. It was obvious she was conflicted about something. She then leaned toward Myrtle and lowered her voice. “Did you tell her about the incidents?”

  “Yes, but I don’t really think—”

  Gloria turned to Hazel. “Those were no accidents. Don’t you agree?”

  “Well, I don’t know. It does seem suspicious that so many things have happened, but they all could have logical explanations.”

  Gloria leaned back in her chair, glancing at Myrtle. “I don’t think we should take any chances. Auntie could be in danger, and I don’t want anything to happen. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.”

  Hazel exchanged a look with Myrtle. Had Myrtle confided in Gloria about sending Hazel the note? What if Gloria was the one trying to kill her? “Myrtle told me about the path, the medicine mix-up, and was just starting to mention something about indigestion when you came in.”

  “That’s right, the path was tampered with. I’m sure of it. Someone could’ve dug it out and placed those bricks back on top to disguise the tampering. I didn’t even notice, and I was walking right with her.” Gloria put her hand on top of Myrtle’s. “And Auntie is very careful about her medicine. She knows how important that is.”

  “And what about the indigestion? Do you think someone is trying to poison her?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Gloria leaned forward. “It’s no secret that Auntie is worth a lot of money, and I hate to say it, but most of my relatives would love to get their hands on it.”

  Hazel didn’t mention that only a few seconds ago Myrtle had inferred that Gloria was in need of money. Was she one of those relatives? This was certainly a mystery that needed puzzling over, and Hazel wanted to retreat to her bedroom to think over the clues.

  “What would you do next if this was in one of your novels?” Gloria asked.

  Hazel stood up. “I guess I would first figure out who had motive. Then from those suspects I would narrow down who had the means and the opportunity to arrange these incidents.”

  Gloria snapped her fingers. “Of course. I think we already know the motive is most likely money. I
f Auntie were to die, Edward and Wes would benefit the most. Seems like either one of them would have had means and opportunity.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. I’d like the chance to mull this over overnight if I may.”

  “Of course,” Myrtle said.

  Gloria patted the old woman’s hand. “In the meantime, I’ll stick close to you to ensure no one can make another attempt. I still haven’t forgiven myself for being on holiday when your pills got mixed up, and I’m not going to let something else happen to you.”

  Hazel studied Gloria through narrowed eyes. Was the young woman truly as unselfishly devoted to Myrtle as she seemed, or was there something else going on?

  “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” Hazel paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Maybe I can see this spot in the path that was tampered with for myself.”

  “Certainly,” Myrtle said. “Tomorrow we’re having some guests for afternoon tea and then badminton, croquet, and archery on the south lawn, but in the morning I’ll be taking my constitutional as usual and will be walking right past that spot. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “I’ll do that.” Hazel opened the door and exited into the hallway, her heart jumping in her chest as she came face to face with Fran, who practically had her ear pressed to the door.

  Fran jumped back in surprise, her wide eyes darting from Hazel to the door. “What were you doing in there with Grandmother?”

  “Just catching up.” Hazel’s eyes fell on the cameo clasped at the neck of Fran’s starched white blouse. “Were you going in to join us?” “

  Fran’s fingers flew up to the piece of jewelry. “I was going to see if Grandmother wanted hot chocolate, but I heard voices and wasn’t sure if I should go in.”

  “It was just your grandmother, me, and Gloria in there. I’m sure you could go in.”

  Something flickered through Fran’s eyes at the mention of Gloria’s name, and Hazel hesitated. “Don’t you like your cousin?”

  “Second cousin,” Fran corrected. “And I wouldn’t trust her if I were you.”

  “Really? Why do you say that?”

  “She’s… been in trouble. That was a few years ago, but it’s been a terrible strain on Grandmother. She acts like she’s straightened up now, but I’m not sure…” Fran leaned closer to Hazel. “And she wasn’t on any holiday the second week in July like she just said, either.”

  Hazel’s eyes flicked to the door. So Fran had been eavesdropping. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw her in town. Down on Fanuel Square. I normally wouldn’t have remembered the exact date like that, but it was right before I was alerted by one of my nursing colleagues that Gram had taken sick from mixing up her pills.”

  Hadn’t Myrtle just said Gloria was mad that she hadn’t been called back from her vacation when the pill mix-up happened? But if Fran had seen her right before Myrtle took ill, then Gloria couldn’t have been out of town.

  “And did you speak with her? I thought she was on vacation.”

  Fran’s eyes widened. “Oh no. I didn’t speak with her. We’re not on the best of terms.” Her fingers came up to fiddle with the cameo again. A nervous habit? Hazel knew from her research that people often exhibited nervous habits when they were lying. Was Fran lying about running into Gloria? She did seem to have it in for the other girl, but why would she lie?

  Hazel squinted at the cameo. Now that she was looking, she could see the shell cameo was extraordinary and unique, with a deeply carved scene of angels and cherubs and ringed with twinkling dark-red rubies. “I noticed your cameo matches the ring your grandmother wears.”

  Fran dropped her hand. “That’s right. It’s from a set of family heirloom jewelry.”

  “Did Myrtle give it to you?”

  “Sort of. It came down from her grandmother, and some went to Gram and some to her sister, Enid. Then Gram gave some to Wes’s mother and some to my father for my mother. So it’s been spread all over the family. It’s not right, I tell you. A set like this should have stayed together and all gone to one person.”

  “So everyone in the family has a piece?”

  “Some have more than one. Gloria has several because both her mother and her grandmother are gone. So she inherited it all from that side.” Fran’s face fell. “I only have this.”

  Hazel squinted, trying to picture the Pembroke family lineage. “So Gloria’s grandmother was Myrtle’s sister, and both her parents and grandparents are gone?”

  Fran nodded. “I suppose that’s why Gram dotes on her. Gram is the only family Gloria has left.” Fran shrugged. “Vera has some cameos, too, because Wes’s mother is dead, so her cameos were passed to Vera. Not that she would appreciate fine heirloom jewelry like this.”

  “No? She seems to like jewelry,” Hazel said.

  “They all do, but they have no sentiment. The cameos are valuable, but the only one in the family who appreciates the fact that they are family heirlooms is me.”

  It was obvious Fran thought she should be the keeper of the family cameos. And she clearly didn’t like her relatives much. Hazel could tell she was the type to hold a grudge. But did Fran’s attitude have anything to do with the attempts on Myrtle? Hazel couldn’t think of any reason to connect the two. At least not yet.

  She bid Fran good-bye, eager to get away from the sour young woman. The day had brought up many questions, and Hazel was eager to escape to her room and sort through them.

  Chapter Six

  Hazel hurried down the hall toward the stairs, being careful to not make a sound. She could tell by the noises coming from the drawing room that the others were still up, but she wanted to go straight to her room. She needed to think about Myrtle’s accidents, and she also had gleaned a great idea for her book based on the conversation in the library.

  She slowly tiptoed up the stairs, not wanting a telltale creak to bring any of the family members out to delay her. She turned the corner to the hallway that led to her room, feeling relieved that she’d made it.

  “Merow!”

  “Dickens! What in the world are you doing out here?” Hazel peered down the hall toward her room. The door was shut, but how had Dickens gotten out into the hall? Had someone been in her room?

  Hazel open the door slowly and cautiously peered in. The room looked the same as she had left it. Dickens trotted in beside her and leapt onto the writing desk, looking at her expectantly. Surely if someone had been in her room, Dickens would alert her somehow?

  “Well, where is it? Is there some sort of a secret panel?” She stood, hands on hips, staring at the cat. Dickens simply twitched his tail and started to wash his velvety brown face.

  Hazel glanced around the room. The walls were nicely papered in a blue brocade. She didn’t see any obvious panels. Maybe next to the fireplace? She made a quick round of the room, looking closely at the walls, but didn’t see anything. Even if there was a panel, how would Dickens have opened it?

  He must have gotten out some other way. Most likely when the maid had come in to freshen up. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d escaped that way.

  Hazel glanced toward the bed and saw the vase on the side table had been freshened up with a new bunch of lilacs. Of course, that was what it was: the staff had been in to freshen up the room. Hazel felt relieved. She didn’t like the idea of a secret passage where anyone could sneak into the room. And she also didn’t like the idea of Dickens being able to run free around the house.

  “Dickens, you bad boy. You know you’re supposed to stay in the room. If you want to venture outside, we will have to use the harness.”

  Hazel rummaged in her trunk, pulling out the contraption that Lord Wallingford had given to her. It was a modified collar that acted as a harness that went around the legs and across the back. Dickens hated it. Whenever she tried to force him to wear it, he simply flopped down on the ground and refused to move. She wiggled it in front of him now, and he backed up and hissed at the despicable object. “I won’t
make you wear it now, but I’m warning you, you’d better stay in this room, or else.”

  Dickens glared at her for a few seconds then hopped up on the desk, sitting on the edge with the tip of his tail tapping slightly on her notebook.

  “I know. I know. I need to get writing.” She pulled out the chair and sat then selected the Sheaffer pen from her lineup. But she didn’t start writing. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Tapping the end of the pen on her lips, she closed her eyes, sorting through everything she’d learned since coming to Lowry House.

  Did someone really want Myrtle dead, or were the incidents just accidents? Myrtle’s relatives certainly were a strange lot, but murder was a very serious crime, and Myrtle was already eighty. She did seem to be in very good health, but why would someone risk getting caught when they need only wait a few years for Myrtle to die naturally?

  Maybe someone had a reason to want her dead right away. Of course, that could be many things. They might need money desperately, or Myrtle might know something that they don’t want her to tell. Or maybe the person was just so angry about something that doing Myrtle in was more of an obsession.

  “Mew.” Dickens blinked his cobalt-blue eyes at her.

  “So you think the killer is doing it out of emotion?” Hazel rubbed Dickens behind the ears. He tilted his head to the right in order to take full advantage. Thoughts of Fran came to mind. The girl did seem angry. She was obviously put out that she wasn’t the keeper of the family cameos. But why would she vent her frustrations on Myrtle? Myrtle wasn’t responsible for dispersing the cameos in the first place: Myrtle’s parents were.

  Maybe in Fran’s warped mind she thought her father, being the only male in the family, should have gotten the entire lot of them. But if Myrtle were to die, to whom would she leave the cameos currently in her possession?

  Was Fran strong enough to have dug out the path herself? Hazel would have to assess that tomorrow. Myrtle had said no one was at the house the day her pills got mixed up, but Fran could have snuck in. By her own admission, she was here quite soon, having heard about it from an associate.