Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 5
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“We’ve had a request for tartar sauce.”
“Tartar sauce?” Richard shrieked. “Why don’t I just slap a bunch of fish sticks on a plate and they can eat all the tartar sauce they want?”
“I thought you’d feel this way.” I tried not to laugh as Richard threw open the refrigerator door and began rummaging through the contents. I snuck a crab puff off a tray and ate it in one bite, chewing and swallowing the savory hors d’oeuvre before he turned back around.
Richard shook a fist in the air. “These are the same people that ask for A-l with their filet mignon.”
“What have you heard about Mrs. Pierce trying to ruin her husband’s career?”
“Nothing.” He slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Why would she do that?”
I tapped my fingers on the counter. “I’m not sure, but that’s what the tartar-sauce guys were talking about.”
“Are you sure they were talking about her husband?”
“I just assumed they were,” I admitted. “But they never mentioned him by name.”
“Knowing what we do of Clara Pierce, it’s possible that more than one man had a reason to kill her. Pretty likely, as a matter of fact.” Richard grimaced as he shook the contents of a plastic bottle. “Squeezable tartar sauce. What’s this world coming to?”
Before I could respond, a crash of glass came from the living room. Richard jumped and squeezed the plastic bottle at the same time, sending an uneven stream of tartar sauce into the air.
Richard had bits of chunky sauce splattered on his face. Globs of white dotted the shiny copper pots hanging above him and dripped onto his head. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Well, now the only thing we need to make this party perfect is a dead body.”
Richard narrowed his eyes. “The night’s young, Annabelle.”
6
“Was that so hard?” Richard handed me the last wine glass to dry.
“Now I remember why I’m a wedding planner and not a caterer. At least I’ve never had to clean my clients’ kitchens.” I glanced around at the sparkling stainless-steel appliances and the white marble counter-tops that were cleaner now than when I’d arrived. I could almost see my own reflection in the copper pots dangling above us. No evidence of the chaos that had taken place only an hour before and not a single drop of tartar sauce anywhere. I had to hand it to Richard. He could break down a party even faster than he could throw it together.
“I’ve always said you wedding planners were a bit soft.”
“Soft?” My jaw dropped open. “Who cleaned up that crystal bowl of artichoke dip that someone broke all over the living room floor?”
“I never said you weren’t useful, honey.”
“And did you see how much wine those people went through? I’m surprised they could still walk out the front door.”
“I’m quite aware of how much wine they drank because I washed every last glass.”
Richard picked up a red milk crate full of cooking utensils and trays, and I pushed open the heavy kitchen door that led out to the alley. When we reached the sidewalk, I looked around for his silver Mercedes convertible. Cars were lined up end to end along both sides of the street, inching over driveways and blatantly ignoring no parking signs, but I didn’t see Richard’s car anywhere.
“Didn’t you drive?”
“I tried, but the closest parking space I could find was the one I already had in front of my house.” Richard shifted the milk crate onto his hip. “It’s impossible to find parking on the weekend. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to live in Georgetown at all.”
“You live here because it’s fashionable,” I reminded Richard before he launched into a laundry list of petty grievances.
“Well, there is that.” Richard began walking in the opposite direction of his house toward my building. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
I knew it would be a waste of breath to argue. Living in a city hadn’t affected Richard’s sense of chivalry one bit. Anyway, he loved strolling around Georgetown at night and peeking into all the fabulously decorated row houses. “Window shopping,” he called it.
“Where else in the city can you find homes like this?” He motioned with an elbow at a house with two ornate iron staircases leading up to a pair of lampposts.
“Mm-hmm.” I alternated between looking up at the house and watching the uneven brick sidewalk. “Who do you think those men at the party were talking about, anyway?”
“The house on the next block is really something to talk about. Wait until you see the chandelier in the front room and the fresco on the outside.”
“We already know that her current husband may have been having an affair and couldn’t be found during the wedding, so don’t you think that gives him motive and opportunity?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Waterford, though.” Richard ignored the taxi at the intersection, and I hurried across the street after him. “They have money, even if they don’t have restraint.”
“It could have been anyone. Everyone wanted to kill her. Even we wanted to kill her.” I stumbled over a bit of tree root that poked through the sidewalk. “All we have to do is sort out the motives.”
“Talk about too much!” Richard gazed up at a brick house with an enormous crystal chandelier dominating the yellow living room. The front room was almost entirely windows and the lights were on, giving us a perfect view. “Palladian windows weren’t enough for them. They had to do double Palladian.”
“Considering her winning personality, I think our prime suspects should be the people who knew her best.” I tugged Richard by the sleeve, and we resumed walking. “Which brings us back to her current husband, who may or may not have been having an affair.”
I ran the short list of suspects through my head as we turned up the next street.
“Sometimes you just wonder what people were thinking,” Richard gasped.
“I know,” I agreed, trying to imagine who could have committed murder. “It’s awful.”
“It’s beyond awful.” Richard pointed at a white lattice carport dripping with vines. “It’s like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon right here in Georgetown. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“I’ve never seen anything as awful as Mrs. Pierce’s mangled body. But if the fall wasn’t what killed her. . . if that rash on her neck means she may have been poisoned, then the killer didn’t have to push her down the stairs. Anyone Mrs. Pierce came in contact with during the night could have murdered her.”
“Now that’s a real crime.” Richard nodded at two enormous urns that flanked a doorway. They were ornamented with carved floral swags spilling down the front.
“A crime of passion isn’t out of the question.” I shrugged. “Especially if Mrs. Pierce found out about the affair. Let’s not forget the ex-husband, either. I have no doubt she made their divorce as painful as possible. So I’d say those are our two prime suspects.”
“You have to have both, I suppose.” Richard shuddered and made a face. “It would be off-balance to have just one.”
“I never thought about it that way, Richard, but they could’ve been working together. Why not? More than one killer makes a lot of sense.”
Richard stopped short as we rounded the corner onto my street, and I bumped into him. “Are you expecting another visit from the police, Annabelle?”
I followed his gaze and saw a pair of squad cars and an ambulance with flashing lights parked in front of my building.
“Leatrice!” I grabbed Richard’s arm and pulled him forward.
“That nutty old lady who’s always trying to set you up with the UPS man?”
“Something must have happened to her.” My mouth went dry. “She’s old, Richard.”
“She never seemed that old to me,” Richard muttered as we ran up to the building. I went to knock on Leatrice’s door on the first floor but heard loud voices and crackling radios coming from upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time and could hear Richard puffing behind me, the contents of his milk crate clattering as he tried to keep up. When we reached the fourth floor, I saw that my apartment door stood wide open and two uniformed police officers were in the hallway.
“What’s going on here?” I could feel the panic in my voice.
“I’m dying.” Richard reached the top of the stairs and let the milk crate crash to the floor.
Leatrice rushed out from my apartment and threw her arms around me. “Thank heavens you’re home.”
“Leatrice.” I pulled her away from me and tried to ignore the fact that she had loosely belted a brown raincoat over what had to be children’s pajamas, complete with feet. “What are you doing in my apartment? What are the police doing here?”
“What is she wearing?” Richard looked up from where he leaned against one of the officers.
Detective Reese stepped out of my apartment. “Ms. Archer.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ve been robbed.”
7
“Ransacked is more like it.” Leatrice pulled me by the arm into my apartment. Papers were scattered all over the floor and my couch cushions had been tossed against the wall. The shopping bag full of clothes I’d meant to take to the dry cleaners the week before had been ripped open, its contents emptied onto a chair. Tiny candy hearts littered the floor in bits and pieces.
Detective Reese walked past me into the room. “From the looks of things, they didn’t burglarize you.”
“What were they doing then, redecorating?” Richard came in to stand next to me and had his hands on his hips surveying the damage.
“What I mean is that it appears that your computer and TV were untouched. You’ll have to check and see if the intruders took any jewelry, of course.”
“I don’t have any expensive jewelry.”
“Now there’s the real crime.” Richard began picking my clothes up off the floor, and then spotted my dining table covered with scattered papers. “Look at the mess over here.”
I glared at him. “Actually, the burglars didn’t touch the table.”
“Sorry,” Richard mouthed.
“There’s always a chance that the intruders were disturbed before they could take what they were after.” Detective Reese leaned against the back of my couch. “Your neighbor made quite a racket.”
I peered down at the tiny woman standing beside me. “Leatrice disturbed the burglars?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t home.” Leatrice patted my hand. “I saw you tear out of here earlier.”
“An emergency?” Reese eyed the milk crate of cooking equipment that Richard had pushed into a corner.
“Something like that.” I avoided the detective’s eyes and turned my attention back to Leatrice.
“So when I heard someone throwing things around in your apartment, I knew it couldn’t be you.” Leatrice turned to smile at Reese. “She’s such a nice girl. No parties or late-night guests like other young people have these days.”
I heard Richard stifle a laugh, but I refused to look at him.
“Miss Archer is lucky to have such an observant neighbor.” Reese returned Leatrice’s smile. He probably loved this.
“Leatrice.” I took a long breath. “How did you hear someone throwing cushions and clothes from four flights down?”
“Well, I came up to see if you were back home yet.” Color began to creep up her neck and seep through the bright coral dabs of rouge applied to her cheeks. “I stood outside your door getting ready to knock when I heard the intruders.”
“The truth comes out.” Richard picked up a couch cushion and brushed the dust off, sending him into a coughing fit.
“Why are there so many cops here?” I asked Reese. “And why an ambulance?”
“Mrs. Butters requested every emergency vehicle in the city.” Reese wasn’t smiling.
Richard sat up from where he’d collapsed on the couch after his coughing fit. “Some people are so dramatic.”
“Just trying to be helpful.” Leatrice lowered her eyes to the floor. “I thought you were in trouble, dear.”
Reese patted Leatrice on the arm. “Who knows what would have been taken if she hadn’t called the police and set off her safety horn.”
Richard lifted the arm he’d draped across his eyes. “Safety horn?”
“Half the neighborhood heard it.” Leatrice beamed at me and produced the small red horn from her coat pocket. “Do you want me to show you how it works?”
Richard jumped up from the couch. “I’d like to see.”
“No,” I snapped. Richard made a face at me and sat back down.
“So what’s the next step, Detective?” Leatrice reluctantly put the horn back in her pocket. “Should I come downtown with you?”
“We appreciate all your help, Mrs. Butters, but we’ve done about all we can do for now.”
Leatrice cleared her throat. “But how are you going to find out who did it?”
“To be honest with you, we might not.”
“What?” Leatrice and I spoke at the same time.
“We dusted for prints, but it appears the doorknobs were wiped clean or the intruder wore gloves.” Reese slid his notebook into his blazer pocket.
“I hope your men are going to be cleaning up their dusting powder.” Richard pulled a monogrammed handkerchief out of his jacket and waved it in front of his mouth. “One thing this apartment doesn’t need is more dust.”
“Or another smart comment,” I said under my breath.
“Well, I’m just being honest, darling,” he mumbled through the white linen.
Reese raised his voice. “I’m afraid without an eyewitness identification, we just don’t have much to go on.”
“You didn’t see them leave?” I asked Leatrice. “I thought you were standing by the front door.”
“They left through the back door and down the fire escape,” Reese answered for Leatrice. “Probably the point of entry, too.”
“I’ve been meaning to get a new lock on that door for a while.” I sighed. “It’s loose.”
“Do you think they’ll come back and try again?” Richard’s eyes darted to the back of the apartment.
“I’m sure these are just petty criminals.” Reese started for the door. “I’d recommend changing your locks to be on the safe side, but otherwise you don’t have to worry too much about them returning. I’ll bet Mrs. Butters scared them pretty bad.”
Richard followed after the detective. “Are you sure this isn’t connected to Mrs. Pierce’s death?”
Reese shook his head. “Doubtful.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that Annabelle finds a body and gets robbed all in the span of two days?” Richard’s eyebrows popped up so high they almost disappeared under his choppy bangs.
“I’d say so.” Reese stepped into the hall and the rest of the police officers followed him out. “Feel free to call me if anything else unusual happens, though.”
“First a dead body, then a burglary,” Richard said over his shoulder to me, but loud enough so Reese could hear. “I forget what comes next. Swarms of locusts or water into blood?”
Leatrice followed fast on the detective’s heels and tried to talk over Richard. “So nice of you to come down personally, Detective.”
Richard closed the door behind her and started pushing a bookshelf in front of the door.
“What are you doing?” I sat down on the sofa and kicked off my shoes. “The back door is the one they broke into.”
Richard took off his suit jacket and pushed up the powder pink sleeves of his shirt.
“I’m not protecting us from the burglars,” Richard said and gave me a disdainful look, “I’m saving us from Leatrice.”
8
“So we’re all secured.” Richard swung the milk crate onto the kitchen counter. “I pushed a table in front of the back door and made a pyramid of those little silver bells on top. If anyone tries to get in tonight, we’ll hear them for sure.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “You used the silver-plated bells for Saturday’s wedding as a booby trap?”
“Relax. They’re not breakable.” Richard bumped into me as he opened a cabinet. Definitely a kitchen designed for one. “The pyramid is fabulous. I think you should arrange them that way for the wedding.”
“How many did you use?”
“All of them.”
I felt a huge headache coming on. “Are you telling me that at this moment two hundred bells are stacked up against my back door?”
“You don’t sound grateful, Annabelle.” Richard pawed through the contents of the plastic crate and produced an aluminum tray covered in cling wrap.
I pressed my hands to my cheeks and tried to look sincere. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it, darling.”
Richard missed my sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you stay here by yourself after what happened.” Richard patted my arm. Great, now I felt guilty.
“I told you that I’d be fine.”
“Just because you’re an independent business woman doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own.”
“I know. I’m just used to it.” I squeezed his hand. “Thanks for staying with me.”
Richard batted his eyelashes at me. “I only hope Leatrice doesn’t consider it inappropriate that you’re having a man stay over.”
I groaned. “She’s like a chaperone and a matchmaker all rolled into one.”
“I must admit that I’m enjoying watching her try to set you up with our detective friend.”
“Don’t you dare encourage her.” I wagged a finger in his face.
“Encourage her?” Richard unwrapped the foil tray and tossed the wadded-up plastic wrap in the metal trash can in the corner. “She doesn’t need any encouragement.”
“That’s the problem.” I rubbed my temples.
“This will make you feel better.” Richard began unloading the contents of the disposable tray onto a plate. “I saved some hors d’oeuvres from the party.”
“Good. I’m starving.” I watched Richard arrange a handful of crab puffs and Brie tartlets on a dinner plate and place it in the microwave. “Someone didn’t let me eat anything all night.”
“Tartar sauce?” Richard shrieked. “Why don’t I just slap a bunch of fish sticks on a plate and they can eat all the tartar sauce they want?”
“I thought you’d feel this way.” I tried not to laugh as Richard threw open the refrigerator door and began rummaging through the contents. I snuck a crab puff off a tray and ate it in one bite, chewing and swallowing the savory hors d’oeuvre before he turned back around.
Richard shook a fist in the air. “These are the same people that ask for A-l with their filet mignon.”
“What have you heard about Mrs. Pierce trying to ruin her husband’s career?”
“Nothing.” He slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Why would she do that?”
I tapped my fingers on the counter. “I’m not sure, but that’s what the tartar-sauce guys were talking about.”
“Are you sure they were talking about her husband?”
“I just assumed they were,” I admitted. “But they never mentioned him by name.”
“Knowing what we do of Clara Pierce, it’s possible that more than one man had a reason to kill her. Pretty likely, as a matter of fact.” Richard grimaced as he shook the contents of a plastic bottle. “Squeezable tartar sauce. What’s this world coming to?”
Before I could respond, a crash of glass came from the living room. Richard jumped and squeezed the plastic bottle at the same time, sending an uneven stream of tartar sauce into the air.
Richard had bits of chunky sauce splattered on his face. Globs of white dotted the shiny copper pots hanging above him and dripped onto his head. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Well, now the only thing we need to make this party perfect is a dead body.”
Richard narrowed his eyes. “The night’s young, Annabelle.”
6
“Was that so hard?” Richard handed me the last wine glass to dry.
“Now I remember why I’m a wedding planner and not a caterer. At least I’ve never had to clean my clients’ kitchens.” I glanced around at the sparkling stainless-steel appliances and the white marble counter-tops that were cleaner now than when I’d arrived. I could almost see my own reflection in the copper pots dangling above us. No evidence of the chaos that had taken place only an hour before and not a single drop of tartar sauce anywhere. I had to hand it to Richard. He could break down a party even faster than he could throw it together.
“I’ve always said you wedding planners were a bit soft.”
“Soft?” My jaw dropped open. “Who cleaned up that crystal bowl of artichoke dip that someone broke all over the living room floor?”
“I never said you weren’t useful, honey.”
“And did you see how much wine those people went through? I’m surprised they could still walk out the front door.”
“I’m quite aware of how much wine they drank because I washed every last glass.”
Richard picked up a red milk crate full of cooking utensils and trays, and I pushed open the heavy kitchen door that led out to the alley. When we reached the sidewalk, I looked around for his silver Mercedes convertible. Cars were lined up end to end along both sides of the street, inching over driveways and blatantly ignoring no parking signs, but I didn’t see Richard’s car anywhere.
“Didn’t you drive?”
“I tried, but the closest parking space I could find was the one I already had in front of my house.” Richard shifted the milk crate onto his hip. “It’s impossible to find parking on the weekend. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to live in Georgetown at all.”
“You live here because it’s fashionable,” I reminded Richard before he launched into a laundry list of petty grievances.
“Well, there is that.” Richard began walking in the opposite direction of his house toward my building. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
I knew it would be a waste of breath to argue. Living in a city hadn’t affected Richard’s sense of chivalry one bit. Anyway, he loved strolling around Georgetown at night and peeking into all the fabulously decorated row houses. “Window shopping,” he called it.
“Where else in the city can you find homes like this?” He motioned with an elbow at a house with two ornate iron staircases leading up to a pair of lampposts.
“Mm-hmm.” I alternated between looking up at the house and watching the uneven brick sidewalk. “Who do you think those men at the party were talking about, anyway?”
“The house on the next block is really something to talk about. Wait until you see the chandelier in the front room and the fresco on the outside.”
“We already know that her current husband may have been having an affair and couldn’t be found during the wedding, so don’t you think that gives him motive and opportunity?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Waterford, though.” Richard ignored the taxi at the intersection, and I hurried across the street after him. “They have money, even if they don’t have restraint.”
“It could have been anyone. Everyone wanted to kill her. Even we wanted to kill her.” I stumbled over a bit of tree root that poked through the sidewalk. “All we have to do is sort out the motives.”
“Talk about too much!” Richard gazed up at a brick house with an enormous crystal chandelier dominating the yellow living room. The front room was almost entirely windows and the lights were on, giving us a perfect view. “Palladian windows weren’t enough for them. They had to do double Palladian.”
“Considering her winning personality, I think our prime suspects should be the people who knew her best.” I tugged Richard by the sleeve, and we resumed walking. “Which brings us back to her current husband, who may or may not have been having an affair.”
I ran the short list of suspects through my head as we turned up the next street.
“Sometimes you just wonder what people were thinking,” Richard gasped.
“I know,” I agreed, trying to imagine who could have committed murder. “It’s awful.”
“It’s beyond awful.” Richard pointed at a white lattice carport dripping with vines. “It’s like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon right here in Georgetown. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“I’ve never seen anything as awful as Mrs. Pierce’s mangled body. But if the fall wasn’t what killed her. . . if that rash on her neck means she may have been poisoned, then the killer didn’t have to push her down the stairs. Anyone Mrs. Pierce came in contact with during the night could have murdered her.”
“Now that’s a real crime.” Richard nodded at two enormous urns that flanked a doorway. They were ornamented with carved floral swags spilling down the front.
“A crime of passion isn’t out of the question.” I shrugged. “Especially if Mrs. Pierce found out about the affair. Let’s not forget the ex-husband, either. I have no doubt she made their divorce as painful as possible. So I’d say those are our two prime suspects.”
“You have to have both, I suppose.” Richard shuddered and made a face. “It would be off-balance to have just one.”
“I never thought about it that way, Richard, but they could’ve been working together. Why not? More than one killer makes a lot of sense.”
Richard stopped short as we rounded the corner onto my street, and I bumped into him. “Are you expecting another visit from the police, Annabelle?”
I followed his gaze and saw a pair of squad cars and an ambulance with flashing lights parked in front of my building.
“Leatrice!” I grabbed Richard’s arm and pulled him forward.
“That nutty old lady who’s always trying to set you up with the UPS man?”
“Something must have happened to her.” My mouth went dry. “She’s old, Richard.”
“She never seemed that old to me,” Richard muttered as we ran up to the building. I went to knock on Leatrice’s door on the first floor but heard loud voices and crackling radios coming from upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time and could hear Richard puffing behind me, the contents of his milk crate clattering as he tried to keep up. When we reached the fourth floor, I saw that my apartment door stood wide open and two uniformed police officers were in the hallway.
“What’s going on here?” I could feel the panic in my voice.
“I’m dying.” Richard reached the top of the stairs and let the milk crate crash to the floor.
Leatrice rushed out from my apartment and threw her arms around me. “Thank heavens you’re home.”
“Leatrice.” I pulled her away from me and tried to ignore the fact that she had loosely belted a brown raincoat over what had to be children’s pajamas, complete with feet. “What are you doing in my apartment? What are the police doing here?”
“What is she wearing?” Richard looked up from where he leaned against one of the officers.
Detective Reese stepped out of my apartment. “Ms. Archer.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ve been robbed.”
7
“Ransacked is more like it.” Leatrice pulled me by the arm into my apartment. Papers were scattered all over the floor and my couch cushions had been tossed against the wall. The shopping bag full of clothes I’d meant to take to the dry cleaners the week before had been ripped open, its contents emptied onto a chair. Tiny candy hearts littered the floor in bits and pieces.
Detective Reese walked past me into the room. “From the looks of things, they didn’t burglarize you.”
“What were they doing then, redecorating?” Richard came in to stand next to me and had his hands on his hips surveying the damage.
“What I mean is that it appears that your computer and TV were untouched. You’ll have to check and see if the intruders took any jewelry, of course.”
“I don’t have any expensive jewelry.”
“Now there’s the real crime.” Richard began picking my clothes up off the floor, and then spotted my dining table covered with scattered papers. “Look at the mess over here.”
I glared at him. “Actually, the burglars didn’t touch the table.”
“Sorry,” Richard mouthed.
“There’s always a chance that the intruders were disturbed before they could take what they were after.” Detective Reese leaned against the back of my couch. “Your neighbor made quite a racket.”
I peered down at the tiny woman standing beside me. “Leatrice disturbed the burglars?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t home.” Leatrice patted my hand. “I saw you tear out of here earlier.”
“An emergency?” Reese eyed the milk crate of cooking equipment that Richard had pushed into a corner.
“Something like that.” I avoided the detective’s eyes and turned my attention back to Leatrice.
“So when I heard someone throwing things around in your apartment, I knew it couldn’t be you.” Leatrice turned to smile at Reese. “She’s such a nice girl. No parties or late-night guests like other young people have these days.”
I heard Richard stifle a laugh, but I refused to look at him.
“Miss Archer is lucky to have such an observant neighbor.” Reese returned Leatrice’s smile. He probably loved this.
“Leatrice.” I took a long breath. “How did you hear someone throwing cushions and clothes from four flights down?”
“Well, I came up to see if you were back home yet.” Color began to creep up her neck and seep through the bright coral dabs of rouge applied to her cheeks. “I stood outside your door getting ready to knock when I heard the intruders.”
“The truth comes out.” Richard picked up a couch cushion and brushed the dust off, sending him into a coughing fit.
“Why are there so many cops here?” I asked Reese. “And why an ambulance?”
“Mrs. Butters requested every emergency vehicle in the city.” Reese wasn’t smiling.
Richard sat up from where he’d collapsed on the couch after his coughing fit. “Some people are so dramatic.”
“Just trying to be helpful.” Leatrice lowered her eyes to the floor. “I thought you were in trouble, dear.”
Reese patted Leatrice on the arm. “Who knows what would have been taken if she hadn’t called the police and set off her safety horn.”
Richard lifted the arm he’d draped across his eyes. “Safety horn?”
“Half the neighborhood heard it.” Leatrice beamed at me and produced the small red horn from her coat pocket. “Do you want me to show you how it works?”
Richard jumped up from the couch. “I’d like to see.”
“No,” I snapped. Richard made a face at me and sat back down.
“So what’s the next step, Detective?” Leatrice reluctantly put the horn back in her pocket. “Should I come downtown with you?”
“We appreciate all your help, Mrs. Butters, but we’ve done about all we can do for now.”
Leatrice cleared her throat. “But how are you going to find out who did it?”
“To be honest with you, we might not.”
“What?” Leatrice and I spoke at the same time.
“We dusted for prints, but it appears the doorknobs were wiped clean or the intruder wore gloves.” Reese slid his notebook into his blazer pocket.
“I hope your men are going to be cleaning up their dusting powder.” Richard pulled a monogrammed handkerchief out of his jacket and waved it in front of his mouth. “One thing this apartment doesn’t need is more dust.”
“Or another smart comment,” I said under my breath.
“Well, I’m just being honest, darling,” he mumbled through the white linen.
Reese raised his voice. “I’m afraid without an eyewitness identification, we just don’t have much to go on.”
“You didn’t see them leave?” I asked Leatrice. “I thought you were standing by the front door.”
“They left through the back door and down the fire escape,” Reese answered for Leatrice. “Probably the point of entry, too.”
“I’ve been meaning to get a new lock on that door for a while.” I sighed. “It’s loose.”
“Do you think they’ll come back and try again?” Richard’s eyes darted to the back of the apartment.
“I’m sure these are just petty criminals.” Reese started for the door. “I’d recommend changing your locks to be on the safe side, but otherwise you don’t have to worry too much about them returning. I’ll bet Mrs. Butters scared them pretty bad.”
Richard followed after the detective. “Are you sure this isn’t connected to Mrs. Pierce’s death?”
Reese shook his head. “Doubtful.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that Annabelle finds a body and gets robbed all in the span of two days?” Richard’s eyebrows popped up so high they almost disappeared under his choppy bangs.
“I’d say so.” Reese stepped into the hall and the rest of the police officers followed him out. “Feel free to call me if anything else unusual happens, though.”
“First a dead body, then a burglary,” Richard said over his shoulder to me, but loud enough so Reese could hear. “I forget what comes next. Swarms of locusts or water into blood?”
Leatrice followed fast on the detective’s heels and tried to talk over Richard. “So nice of you to come down personally, Detective.”
Richard closed the door behind her and started pushing a bookshelf in front of the door.
“What are you doing?” I sat down on the sofa and kicked off my shoes. “The back door is the one they broke into.”
Richard took off his suit jacket and pushed up the powder pink sleeves of his shirt.
“I’m not protecting us from the burglars,” Richard said and gave me a disdainful look, “I’m saving us from Leatrice.”
8
“So we’re all secured.” Richard swung the milk crate onto the kitchen counter. “I pushed a table in front of the back door and made a pyramid of those little silver bells on top. If anyone tries to get in tonight, we’ll hear them for sure.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “You used the silver-plated bells for Saturday’s wedding as a booby trap?”
“Relax. They’re not breakable.” Richard bumped into me as he opened a cabinet. Definitely a kitchen designed for one. “The pyramid is fabulous. I think you should arrange them that way for the wedding.”
“How many did you use?”
“All of them.”
I felt a huge headache coming on. “Are you telling me that at this moment two hundred bells are stacked up against my back door?”
“You don’t sound grateful, Annabelle.” Richard pawed through the contents of the plastic crate and produced an aluminum tray covered in cling wrap.
I pressed my hands to my cheeks and tried to look sincere. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it, darling.”
Richard missed my sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you stay here by yourself after what happened.” Richard patted my arm. Great, now I felt guilty.
“I told you that I’d be fine.”
“Just because you’re an independent business woman doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own.”
“I know. I’m just used to it.” I squeezed his hand. “Thanks for staying with me.”
Richard batted his eyelashes at me. “I only hope Leatrice doesn’t consider it inappropriate that you’re having a man stay over.”
I groaned. “She’s like a chaperone and a matchmaker all rolled into one.”
“I must admit that I’m enjoying watching her try to set you up with our detective friend.”
“Don’t you dare encourage her.” I wagged a finger in his face.
“Encourage her?” Richard unwrapped the foil tray and tossed the wadded-up plastic wrap in the metal trash can in the corner. “She doesn’t need any encouragement.”
“That’s the problem.” I rubbed my temples.
“This will make you feel better.” Richard began unloading the contents of the disposable tray onto a plate. “I saved some hors d’oeuvres from the party.”
“Good. I’m starving.” I watched Richard arrange a handful of crab puffs and Brie tartlets on a dinner plate and place it in the microwave. “Someone didn’t let me eat anything all night.”
