Chapter 10

  Unfortunately, for me, I have Amy Redmond’s contact number in my phone. While the cookies baked, I quickly (and reluctantly) whipped up an egg-white omelet, put my phone on speaker, and gave the detective a call.

  She answered immediately. “Lily Roberts. I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

  “Me? It’s Rose and Bernie who are always interfering with your job, not me. I tag innocently along behind, helplessly trapped in the wake of their enthusiasm.”

  “And innocently place yourself directly in danger. I know. I also know you have good instincts, Lily, and I will begrudgingly admit, although not to anyone else, you’ve been of help to us in the past. So what’s up?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got autopsy results on Ralph Reynolds yet?”

  “That’s scheduled for six tonight. If you’re wanting an invitation, the answer is an emphatic no.”

  I swallowed. Probably the last thing I wanted, after accommodating another request for nonfat afternoon tea, was to be witness to an autopsy. “Did anyone tell you about an . . . incident that occurred at the Hill-Reynolds bridal shower held here yesterday?”

  “What sort of incident?”

  “Nothing anyone would have considered to be of interest to the police under normal circumstances, but in light of accusations and tensions swirling around the sudden death of one of the guests at that shower, I thought you should know about it.”

  “I have not been told about anything specific regarding any shower. You say here, meaning it was held at Tea by the Sea?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  “It’ll make more sense if I show it to you. If you have time.”

  “I do not have the time. But I’ll make time. I’m not opening a criminal investigation into Mr. Reynolds’s death. Not yet. It seems, so far, to be a case of a man with a bad heart overindulging in things he shouldn’t in celebration of his son’s marriage. That situation might change depending on the results of the autopsy and the lab reports on the contents of his bottle and glass. In case it does, I’d like to see what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ll be at work until—” I was about to suggest Detective Redmond come to see the doll after the tearoom closed at five. Instead, she said, “On my way,” and hung up.

  I slapped the egg-white omelet onto a plate and sprinkled finely chopped herbs across it.

  “She’s coming now?” Marybeth asked.

  “Unfortunately yes. I shouldn’t be long. I hope I’m not long. Everything okay out there?”

  “Seems to be. The other members of the bus tour are digging in happily. Do you want me to offer Detective Redmond tea?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  When Amy Redmond says she’s “on my way,” she means it. It’s about a ten-minute drive from the North Augusta police station to Victoria-on-Sea. Five minutes after our phone call, she pulled into the driveway. Detective Williams was with her. I took off my apron and hairnet, went out the back door, and around the corner of the eighteenth-century stone building I’d worked so hard to convert into a warm, welcoming tearoom.

  The police waited for me by their car. Fortunately, not many of the guests seated on the patio paid them any attention.

  Police activity at a restaurant is never good.

  “It’s in the garden shed,” I told them.

  “What’s this it you’ve dragged us all the way out here to see?” Williams asked.

  “Best if I show you. You need to see it in person to get the full effect.”

  I’d texted Simon to tell him we needed to get into the garden shed and he was waiting for us. He held two short-stemmed yellow roses, one in each hand. He handed one to me, with a bow, and then one to Amy Redmond, with a deeper bow.

  She colored slightly, looking quite pleased, before wiping the expression away and regaining her usual no-nonsense composure. “Let’s see it. Whatever it is.”

  Simon opened the door to the shed and we stepped in, two of us carrying our roses. I indicated the cardboard box. “This came gift wrapped. Among the piles of presents brought to the shower. Pointedly, it didn’t have a card attached. The bridesmaid looked for it, but she didn’t find one. No one claimed responsibility. One of my staff found the present sitting by the gate, so she put it with the rest of the gifts. The box was wrapped but, if it matters, we threw the wrapping out with all the rest. Sorry.”

  The police studied the box.

  “The bride opened it, and what she saw upset her enormously. So much she fled the shower and did not return.”

  Redmond laid her rose on a shelf and lifted the flaps. The blank, empty eyes of the Raggedy Ann doll stared up at us.

  “It’s a doll,” Williams scoffed. I don’t know what he expected—maybe the head of a thoroughbred racing horse as in The Godfather.

  “You got it in one, mate,” Simon said.

  Redmond pulled gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on before picking up the head and studying it. For some ridiculous reason I thought of Hamlet: Yorick. I knew him well, Horatio. Instead of uttering the immortal lines, she said, “A doll in two parts. I’ll admit, a highly unusual shower gift.”

  “Greg, the groom, opened the box. He lifted out the head. Hannah screamed and tried to get away. Greg threw it aside. Someone knocked over the box and the rest of it fell out. It caused a considerable commotion.”

  “As I would expect,” Redmond said. “Which, presumably, the sender also expected.”

  “Total chaos,” Simon said. “The head landed near a woman, and she just about trampled everyone near her in her haste to get away.”

  “A practical joke,” Williams said. “One in bad taste, okay, but a joke. Any preteen boys in this family? I’d start there.” He walked out of the shed, shaking his head.

  Detective Redmond did not follow. She examined the head from all angles.

  “It’s obviously been cut.” Simon pointed. “Cleanly, too.”

  “It shows no signs of wear. Meaning, it’s a new doll, likely bought for this specific purpose. You say the bride was very upset, Lily. If this was intended as a message, do you think she got it?”

  “I don’t know about a message, but she told me she had a doll similar to that one as a child and it had great emotional significance to her.”

  Redmond put the head to one side and took out the body. “An old-fashioned sort of doll, but it looks industrially made. All machine stitching.” She pointed to a tag attached to the right leg. “Here’s a label. Made in China. So not rare or an antique.”

  “Hannah said the childhood doll was one of the last things her father gave her before he died.”

  “Mean. Very, very mean. Whether this has anything to do with the death, natural causes or not, of her prospective father-in-law, might not matter. Not directly. But it does indicate to me that someone in the wedding party or among their guests is not a nice person.”

  “Detective, are you coming?” Williams called. “We don’t have all day.”

  “Give me a few more minutes,” Redmond replied.

  “Your time to waste. As for me, Lily, got the coffee on?”

  I rolled my eyes at Simon. Redmond’s head was down as she studied the details of the doll’s dress, so she might not have noticed. Then again, she didn’t miss much.

  “It can be,” I said.

  “Some of those cookies wouldn’t go amiss, either. The English ones.”

  “Shortbread. Tell Cheryl or Marybeth to offer you some.”

  Amy Redmond continued examining the doll. “This is made all of cloth, and rough textured at that, so it’s gonna be tough to get any useable prints. But, in case we find some, I suppose a lot of people touched it?”

  “Greg Reynolds, as we mentioned. Simon did. I think Bernie helped stuff it back in the box.”

  “All the usual suspects.”

  “Uh, yeah. Greg Reynolds grabbed it and dropped it back in the box. People were jumping up and milling about, so I didn’t exactly see who did what and when.”

  “Like I said,” Simon added. “Total chaos.”

  “Same for the box itself?” Redmond asked.

  “Yup,” I said. “It was gift wrapped. Greg handed it to Hannah and they opened it together.”

  “I carried the box in here,” Simon said. “Before that, anyone could have touched it. Plus, I don’t lock the shed during the day.”

  “Anything noticeable about the wrapping?”

  “Sort of sparkly?” Simon said.

  I thought. “It was attractive. A silver pattern, with a big matching bow. Suitable for a shower gift, but nothing exceptional. The paper and the bow looked to be store-bought. I didn’t examine them in any detail.”

  She put the pieces of the doll back in the box and bent to lift it up. Simon reached to help her and she snapped, “No touching.”

  He jerked back and lifted his hands. “Sorry. My prints are all over it.”

  “Be that as it may, I don’t need any more. Lily, can you bring my rose, please.” She carried the box out of the garden shed. I scooped up her flower, and Simon and I followed. On the tearoom patio, Detective Williams was talking to Marybeth. She showed him to an unoccupied table.

  “Don’t have all day indeed,” Redmond muttered under her breath. “The autopsy’s scheduled for six. I’ve got time to drop this off at the lab before. Provided I can convince my partner to have his coffee and cookies as takeout.”

  She turned to me and gave me what I took to be an approving nod. “As I said earlier, your instincts are good, Lily. Some men, not being fully aware of the importance of a wedding shower to a young bride, might take this to be nothing but a practical joke. In line with what you had to tell me, and what I observed myself, about the tension in the Reynolds family, and between certain of them and Mrs. Hill, I think this little joke might be highly significant indeed. If this case goes any further, that is.”

  She headed for her car, and I went with her, still carrying her rose as well as mine. Simon shut the door to the shed.

  Redmond popped the trunk of her car and put the box inside. “I’ll have a talk with Hannah Hill about this. She might have some idea who sent it. And why.”

  “If you need someone to be with her—”

  “Her mother can take that role. The Hills are not staying here. I thank you for your help, but I won’t need any more.” She took the rose out of my hand. “Oh, no. He’s ordering the full tea. We’ll be here all day.”

  Chapter 11

  As I normally do, I stayed at Tea by the Sea after closing and after Marybeth and Cheryl had cleaned up and said their good nights. Following a hectic day, I always enjoy time alone, surrounded by peace and quiet and good food, doing what I love best—baking.

  The kitchen backs onto the main road, and I can hear the sound of passing traffic. Usually I tune it out, but today I was more aware than usual of cars slowing and turning into our driveway. Not long after the police left, with the headless doll and its head in their trunk, Amy Redmond carrying her rose, and Chuck Williams lugging a hastily prepared take-out container of afternoon tea offerings, Ivan Reynolds and his mother, Sophia, returned to Victoria-on-Sea. Shortly after that, Greg left, on his own. And not long after that McKenzie departed in the company of a man around her age who I took to be her boyfriend, Jack.

  I assumed Greg was on his way to meet with Hannah. I felt dreadfully sorry for them both. Despite how her bridal shower had ended, and despite all the negative emotions being expressed by certain other people, they were clearly in love and looking forward to their nuptials. Now, the wedding had been postponed. Never mind the money they’d likely forfeit, but the disappointment had to be crushing. I’d been told the wedding was to be held at the yacht club in North Augusta. Those premises did not come cheap. Two hundred guests had been invited. Many of them would already have arrived at hotels and B & Bs nearby, making a holiday of the occasion. Now everyone had to be contacted to be told the wedding was being postponed. They’d all have questions. Poor Hannah. Poor Greg.

  It might be a long time before the families were in the mood to celebrate, and longer still to organize another grand affair.

  For everyone’s sake, I sincerely hoped nothing would come of the autopsy.

  But that was not to be.

  I was cleaning up the last of my night’s work around nine o’clock, ready to head home for an exciting evening of slipping into my pajamas and watching something boring on TV with my dog and a microwaved dinner, when three vehicles turned into the driveway. Two were SUVs with the markings of the North Augusta Police Department, and the other a plain car I recognized from earlier today.

  The only reason, I thought, Williams and Redmond would come with uniformed officers would be if they intended to open an investigation.

  I shoved dishes into the dishwasher, set it, cast my eyes around the kitchen to ensure I hadn’t left anything perishable out or the ovens on, pulled off my apron and hairnet, threw them on the butcher block, and left the tearoom at speed.

  The sun had dipped below the waters of the bay, leaving the western sky streaked with shades of gray and orange. Many of the lights in the B & B were on, giving the grand old house a warm, welcoming appearance. I hurried through the garden, trees dark against the sky, white daisies glowing in the dying light, flowers fragrant as they settled down for the night.

  When I reached the house, Rose was letting our unexpected visitors in. I ran up the steps after them.

  “We’re here to speak to the Reynolds family,” Detective Williams said as the two uniforms stood stiffly behind him.

  “I myself was about to retire for the night,” Rose said. “I don’t know if anyone is in. But I can check their rooms, if you like.”

  “Cars belonging to Ralph Reynolds, Greg Reynolds, and Ivan Reynolds are parked outside,” Officer Bland pointed out.

  “People often take cabs if they’re going out for dinner.” Relief crossed Rose’s face as she saw me edging around the police. “Lily, I’m glad you’re here. Would you mind, love?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  I raised one eyebrow at Amy Redmond in a question. Her face was expressionless, and she did not acknowledge me in any way. That in itself told me plenty.

  I ran upstairs. When I hit the landing, a low buzz of conversation was coming from room 202. Sophia’s room.

  I knocked lightly on the door, and Greg opened it. “Lily. Good evening. What’s up?”

  I glanced over his shoulder. Room 202 is our best and biggest room, decorated in a highly feminine style of soft shades of peach and sage green with white French provincial furniture.

  Greg’s mother reclined on the king-sized bed on top of the covers, fully dressed except for her shoes, propped up against a mountain of pillows. The double doors leading to the spacious balcony were open and the night air off the sea and the sound of surf hitting the rocks filled the room. Ivan sprawled in a chair by the doors to the balcony, a bottle of beer clenched in his hand.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “The police are downstairs. They’d like to talk to you.”

  “Why?” Ivan asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” Greg said. “We’ll be right down.”

  “Is the elder Mrs. Reynolds in her room?” I asked.

  “I think so,” Greg said. “I checked on her when we got back from dinner, and she was there then. She didn’t want to join us this evening.”

  No kidding.

  “McKenzie and Jack, the perpetual loser, went somewhere by themselves after we left the restaurant,” Ivan said. “Don’t know where.”

  “The detectives didn’t ask,” I said. “But I suspect they’d like to talk to her as well. Is Dave around?”

  “He’s in our room,” Ivan said. “Wanted to catch the end of the game.”

  Sophia swung her legs off the bed. “Let’s get this nonsense over with. Ivan, call McKenzie and tell her to get back here. Now.”

  I went down the hallway to room 200. I knocked, and a voice said, “What is it?”

  “Lily Roberts here, Mrs. Reynolds. I’m sorry to disturb you, but you’re needed downstairs.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “The police are here.”

  “Tell them to talk to Sophia.”

  At that moment Sophia and her sons came out of her room. Her face tightened in anger, and she said, “If you’re too drunk to put in an appearance, Regina, I’ll make your excuses.”

  Greg grabbed her arm. “That’s not helping, Mom.”

  “It’s not?” But she allowed him to lead her away.

  “Very well,” Regina said through the closed door. “I’ll be right down. Goodness knows what she’ll say if I’m not there to set the record straight.”

  Ivan opened the door to room 203 and called, “You’re needed downstairs, pal. Cops are here.”

  By the time I arrived downstairs, Williams was ushering the Reynolds family into the drawing room. The four bridge-playing women had returned from dinner and were watching events with undisguised interest. Redmond spoke to them. “Are you ladies guests here?”

  “Yes,” a short, slightly plump one replied. “We are. We’re from Boston, and we’re here on a bridge vacation. I’m Laurie Kilpatrick.”

  “Were you here, in this house, last night?”

  Four heads nodded in unison.

  “Did one of my officers take your statements?”

  “Oh, yes. It was very exciting!”

  The friend with the big black eyeglasses jabbed the speaker in the ribs. “Show some respect, Marie. A man died here yesterday. That’s what you want to talk to us about, Officer, right? Sorry, we can’t help you. We didn’t know him. I mean, I didn’t know him. I can’t speak for us all.”

  “Karen’s right,” Laurie said. “We don’t know anything.” Her friends nodded in agreement.

  “Then you can return to your rooms. Officer Kowalski will assist you, if you can’t find the way yourselves.”

  “At least,” Marie, the oldest of the women, said in what she probably thought was a whisper, “we get a young and handsome one.”