Ripe for Murder Read online

  “Another symptom of my level of anxiety.”

  “So, now that you’ve finished both of our breakfasts, let’s discuss what happens next. Have you made any progress with the ‘trap’?”

  “Enough with the air quotes!” I lowered my voice as several people shot us a look. “I admit nothing is coming to mind.”

  “That isn’t entirely bad news, since it wasn’t a good idea to begin with.” He looked around the room. “It might be time to let the police take over. I mean, trying to get an entire group of people to do something in the hopes of exposing one of them as a killer. What could possibly go wrong?” He tapped my hand. “I said, what could possibly go wrong?”

  I didn’t answer. I think I only heard about half of what he said. The idea sort of jelled as I stared off into space. I don’t know how long I was like that before he tapped once again on my arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve got it. I know what to do.”

  Connor sighed and rolled his head, stretching out his neck. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  I looked around the room. “Not now. We need some privacy.”

  I slid my chair back and motioned for Connor to follow. We threaded our way through the diners and into the main lobby.

  “How about outside?” Connor asked.

  “It’s too cold.” I spotted the library. “In here.”

  We were at the door when I heard my name. I turned.

  Antonia was scurrying across the lobby. “What are you two up to?”

  “How do you know we’re up to something?” I asked.

  “I know you better than you think, Penelope Lively. Now what’s going on?”

  “All right!” I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her. “I know what we’re going to do.”

  Connor leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s this we? I just got done saying I was glad you were going to let the police handle it.”

  “Oh sure, like they’ve done such a good job so far,” I said. “Just hear me out and then you can decide.”

  Connor pushed himself off the wall, took a seat and leaned back. “Go ahead.”

  Antonia took a seat beside him. “Now, how do you propose getting our killer to confess?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  The silence lingered. I walked to the large stone hearth and turned my back to the flames to face them. “Let me explain.”

  “Yes, you really should,” Antonia said. “Otherwise you need to work on your delivery.”

  “I’ve been thinking we needed someone to admit they were guilty. What if we acted like we already knew they were? What if we anonymously sent everyone the same letter threatening to expose them, and demand a meeting.”

  Antonia bit her lip. “Well, if you’re sending it to all of them, I’m not sure what that would do.”

  “Other than really upset everyone, if you haven’t already,” Connor added.

  “Let me finish. What if I told everyone the same thing? I know what they’ve done, and before I go to the police, I’m giving them a chance to work something out with me. There wouldn’t be any reason for the innocent to show up. Only one of them would come. The guilty one.”

  “That’s what I call brilliant.” Antonia clapped once.

  “That’s what I call blackmail,” Connor said.

  “Well, I suppose you could look at it that way,” I said.

  “That’s because that’s what it is! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “That’s why we send the notes anonymously. I don’t need to be seen. We only need to know who shows up. And anyway, it isn’t like I’d be there alone. I’d have someone there, you or the police.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Chief Harding will love this one,” Connor said.

  “If I tell him exactly what he needs to know, even someone that bumbling can prevent me from getting killed.”

  “Maybe, if you draw him a road map,” Connor muttered.

  “I don’t think you’re grasping the beauty of this. I don’t have to actually know who the killer is. I just need for them to think that I know.”

  Connor made a slicing motion with his hand. “Stop. I understand exactly what you’re saying, and it’s a bad idea. Someone else is going to get hurt if you go through with this. Probably you. I want you to think long and hard about how you proceed and, at the very least, I’m not going to support this. You can count me out.” He stood. “Antonia, you understand what I’m saying, right?”

  “Absolutely. One hundred percent. Although I do suppose whoever is responsible will continue to come after Penny, even if she does manage to keep out of trouble—”

  Connor took a deep breath and Antonia rushed ahead. “But, of course, you’re right. This is a crazy idea and nothing good can come from it.”

  Connor exhaled and rubbed his temples. “I’m going to leave now, before I say something I’ll regret later. Of all the crazy . . .” He turned to the door. “I need to go for that run I missed earlier.”

  Connor pointedly closed the door without a sound, and Antonia turned to me.

  “I assume we are still on course.”

  “Damn skippy. Now help me write the letters.”

  Twenty-eight

  “HOW does this sound?” Antonia cleared her throat. “‘I know what you did on the train.’”

  “Like a bad summer teen movie.”

  She crumpled the page and tossed it into the fire. “Well, then, what do you have?”

  I read from the sheet in front of me. “The train. Tonight at six. You left something behind. I’m willing to discuss returning it.”

  Antonia tilted her head back and forth. “That isn’t bad, actually. It leaves the possibility open that the killer left a clue at either Tara or Kim’s murder, making it more likely that you actually have something.”

  “Here, help me write these up,” I said. I handed her several sheets of hotel stationery.

  “Why meet them at the train?” she asked.

  “I admit it’s a little theatrical, but I needed a place that everyone knows.”

  “Why not somewhere here at the hotel?”

  “Too exposed. If you’re a murderer, you don’t want an audience when you confirm it. Also, here it’s more likely someone innocent might show up, just out of curiosity.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense.” We wrote in silence for a few moments. “How many do we need?”

  I counted out suspects on my fingertips. “Big Dave, Vance, Jim, Seth, Barb and Bill. Six.”

  “Okay, here are my three.” She handed me the folded sheets. “Now what? How, for instance, do we distribute them?”

  “Right. Delivery. I hadn’t gotten that far.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Penelope. What is this, amateur hour?”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “That’s exactly what it is. And I don’t want to hear any complaining. Either help me figure out a way to do this or let me think in peace.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. I’m just frightened for Chantal and frightened for you, and I think we’re running out of time.”

  It was the first time I’d ever heard Antonia apologize for anything. It was a strong measure of the fear she must be feeling.

  I squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, old girl. We’re going to come out of this just fine.”

  “Old girl? Old girl?” Pink flushed her cheeks. “Do you know when you can call me that? Never. I’m not sure what I find more offensive, the ‘old’ or the ‘girl.’”

  “Fine. Forget I said anything and let me think. What we need is to get the notes delivered without any connection to us. Three are to hotel guests: Big Dave, Vance and Jim.”

  Antonia nodded. “Yes, and the other three are going to be here this afternoon for the tasting. Bill said he was coming, and Olympio alre
ady told me he hired Seth and Barb to serve during the competition.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you can possibly pull this off without any of them seeing you. We need someone else to do the drop-offs.”

  The drop-offs? “Good idea, Columbo.”

  “Well, then, you think of something.”

  “No. You’re right. And I know just the person.” I gathered up the notes. “Let me take it from here.” I looked at my watch. “The tasting is scheduled for four. That gives me five hours.”

  * * *

  “YOU’RE trying to solve the murders, aren’t you?” I’d kept the purpose behind the messages vague, but George had put things together. “Of course, I’ll try to help you. Ever since I heard you found that poor woman in the spa I’ve wanted to be of assistance.”

  “If you think we should leave it to the police, I understand,” I said.

  George huffed. “Harding? If you’re waiting for him to solve anything, you’ll be waiting a long time. Just ask the locals.”

  “So I gather.”

  “I’m just delivering messages between hotel guests. I don’t need to know what the contents are.”

  “Thank you for this.”

  “Anything for the guests, after all.” He rubbed his hands together. “Working in a hotel you’d be surprised the things I see and hear. I’ve always suspected half the population’s secretly crazy. The goings-on here this last week only confirmed it.” He paused. “Now tell me again exactly what you want me to do.”

  “All I need is for you to take each of these six envelopes to the addressed recipient.” I handed them over. “Say they were left at the front desk when no one was about.”

  He flipped through the pile. “So these are our suspects, eh?” He leaned in closer. “My money’s on Big Dave, for what it’s worth. I saw the way that young wife of his, Tara, flirted with the guys around the pool. No man puts up with that for long, I can tell you.”

  “George. Can you promise me you’ll just deliver them? Deliver them without comment or making any observations.”

  He drew himself up. “I’m a professional. You can’t possibly imagine the outlandish things I’ve delivered to these rooms with a straight face.” He rapped the envelopes against his open palm. “This will be a piece of cake.”

  “Okay, so let’s be clear. Three are guests and three will be here this afternoon for the taste competition between Berninni and Martinelli wineries.”

  He glanced around the room and slowly tipped his head. “Simple. I can deliver three now and the other three this afternoon.”

  “It’s crucial they each think they’re the only one getting an envelope.”

  “Ah,” George’s eyes lit up. “This will require a little more cunning on my part. Excellent.”

  “Let’s not turn all cloak-and-dagger. You just need to deliver them without being seen.”

  George tucked the envelopes into an inner pocket, then stuck his head outside the library door and scanned the lobby. He turned and touched the side of his nose before departing.

  * * *

  “DO you think George can be trusted to deliver the letters?” Antonia posed the question some time later as we sat in the lobby having coffee. The wind continued to blow and most of the guests were availing themselves of the interior activities, which included a number of chess sets and, in the far corner, a billiard room.

  “I hope so. All he has to do is get the letters in the right hands. Hopefully the rest will fall into place.” I pinched between my eyes. “I mean, what could possibly go wrong?”

  “You jest, but we both know plenty can go wrong. For example, what exactly do you have planned at the train, on the outside chance that someone actually shows up?”

  “It’s impossible to imagine the killer being able to stay away,” I said. “They can’t take the risk. Beyond that, well, I’m open to suggestions. I do know I’ll want the police there. I’ll leave it to you to call them and tell them what I’ve done. Connor too.”

  Antonia raised a brow. “I would have told him regardless. I mean, when it’s too late for him to stop you. He’d never forgive me otherwise. How do you plan on getting to the train?”

  “The bike path. It’s an easy walk, and I can slip away after the tasting.”

  Antonia looked at her watch. “The competition is to start in less than two hours. With this wind, people want to be indoors. I should expect we’ll have a good turnout.”

  “You know this whole competition thing with Olympio and Berninni Winery is for fun, right?”

  She turned to me. “When have you ever heard me joke about the reputation of Martinelli Winery? We have the best wines, and I fully expect to win this little contest.”

  I shook my head. “It baffles me. One minute, I would swear you have a thing for Olympio, but the next, you two are at each other.”

  Antonia smiled. “We’re both Italian. It feels good to have someone to joust with again. It’s been too long.” She stood. “I’m going to change.” She paused and then reached out to take my hand. She’s never been particularly demonstrative, and I think we were both embarrassed, but she tightened her grip as she held my gaze.

  “You don’t need to do this. If you think it’s best to leave it just as it sits, we can put our faith in the police and hope for the best.”

  I patted her hand. “Whoever is doing this missed me on the bike path, in the wine cave, and then, to the terrible detriment of poor Kim, in the spa. They aren’t going to stop, and neither can I. Let’s see it through and then go home. All of us.”

  Twenty-nine

  WITH the walk to the train ahead of me, I dressed in black slacks with some built-in stretch, a soft black sweater tunic, and low slip-on shoes. I’d ordered a salad and baguette to the room but picked at the food, my stomach in knots.

  I needed company and, to be honest, the person I really wanted to talk to was Connor. I picked up the phone several times only to put it down again, so it was a relief when it rang.

  “I hope you aren’t upset with me,” Connor said without preamble.

  “About what?”

  “Making it clear I don’t want you to pursue this.”

  My eyes narrowed and the knot in my stomach vanished. “Right, because you’ve had such tremendous success in the past telling me what to do.”

  “Somebody needs to. This isn’t the first time you’ve decided to get involved when you shouldn’t, and we can both name instances when it went horribly wrong.”

  “The point is, I get to decide for myself when to get involved.” I grabbed the baguette I’d abandoned and jabbed it into the air. “This is a good idea. I know it is.” I took a big bite out of the bread, my appetite restored.

  On the other end of the line, there was a sharp intake of breath. “Don’t tell me you’re going through with this, Penny. Tell me you didn’t do anything.”

  “I haven’t done a thing.” Yet.

  “And that ridiculous idea of handing out notes to entice someone to meet you?”

  “No, I didn’t hand out those either.” Take that.

  Connor sighed. “Okay, I’m glad to hear it. See you downstairs.”

  I finished what I had left of the salad, wishing I’d ordered something more substantial.

  At a little before four I grabbed a wrap, my room key, and a small shoulder bag for my phone. If the wine tasting went long, I wouldn’t have time to come back to the room, not if I wanted to get to the train early.

  The wind was even stronger than earlier, and the lobby was busy. Antonia waved me over as I entered the tasting room. It was the same room where less than a week ago, everyone had gathered together for the first time.

  “What a great turnout,” I said. “There isn’t anyone at all on the outside patio.”

  “Yes. It was pretty handy that Olympio had all of those cases of my wine on hand. I wonder
what he had in mind when he ordered them,” Antonia said.

  “I think he just wanted to know more about your life since you last saw him, but as competitive as you both are, he was happy to stage this little event. Now the only question is, how is the loser of this ‘friendly’ little competition going to feel when it’s over?”

  Antonia threw back her head. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, you’re impossible. You know that?”

  She shrugged and nudged me. “There he is. I must say, he is quite handsome, isn’t he?”

  Olympio looked impressive indeed in a tailored gray suit that set off the silver in his hair. He’d paired the suit with a lavender tie and a crisp white shirt. The smile he shared with Antonia was warm and inviting as he walked up and took her hand between both of his. “Are you ready to have a little fun?”

  “Absolutely, and I fully expect to have more fun than you.”

  He laughed. “Come, let me show you how I’ve arranged it.” He bowed slightly at the waist. “I made certain that I could not later be accused of ‘rigging’ the results.” He gestured toward the tables that lined the room. Each table had a good number of bottles, all bagged in silk covers of either gold or blue. On each table were stacks of tickets and large glass bowls tied with either a gold or blue ribbon. “You see? They taste the wine and vote without knowing which winery they are voting for.”

  Behind the tables a number of servers milled about, Seth and Barb included. Barb looked pale and avoided looking directly at me. Seth had the opposite response when he spotted me. He stopped unpacking bottles and narrowed his eyes. His jaw clenched and pulsed with each heartbeat. I looked away first, knowing that if I continued to hold his gaze, he was willing to make a scene. Olympio caught the exchange and shook his head at Seth. Only then did Seth go back to his job. Olympio tsk-tsked behind me.

  “You know Bill fired him from serving on the train line, right?” I asked.

  Olympio leaned in. “Barb told me. I caught her crying this morning as she packed up the wine cases to bring here. If it weren’t for her and my loyalty to her father, I’d fire Seth immediately. I just might have to either way. He’s getting worse.”