Chapter 13 #2
She closed her eyes and was quiet for a few seconds as she gathered her thoughts.
“It was a man’s space,” she said. “Big, dark furniture and leather. His desk lamp was on and papers were spread out on the desk. His reading glasses were lying on top of the papers, and I could see him take them off and rub his eyes like I’d seen him do a thousand times before. ”
She was silent for several moments, but we didn’t interrupt the silence.
“The curtains were drawn. That was habit too. He’d draw them at night when he worked, and I’d open them again the next morning when I came in to clean. There were bookshelves behind his desk. Everything from medical textbooks to the latest fiction bestseller. He loved to read.
“He liked to have a glass of whiskey at night while he was working and before bed,” she continued.
“He’d only ever have a glass. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he said it settled his mind before sleep.
The decanter was on his desk, and there were two glasses sitting out—one next to the papers Henry had been working on and another across from him.
Henry’s glass was empty, but the other was full. ”
“You’re sure?” Dash asked. “That the decanter and glasses were on the desk?”
“As sure as the sun shining in Arizona,” she said.
“The photos Milton took at the scene show the decanter and one of the whiskey glasses sitting on the bookshelf behind the desk. Henry’s empty glass was still in front of him. You’re sure the second glass had whiskey in it?”
“I just said so, didn’t I?” she asked. “But it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if Milton decided to make things easier on himself.
The decanter and the glasses usually sat on a gold tray on the bookshelf, and anyone who’d been in Henry’s office would know it was a staple there.
Even a moron like Milton would know that two glasses on the desk meant someone else had been in that office with him the night he supposedly shot himself.
But Milton always looked for the path of least resistance. ”
“What did you do after you found him?” Dash asked.
“I went back to the kitchen and called the emergency line. Then I called Josephine. I think I was in shock. I don’t remember moving until Milton walked in the back door with a couple of deputies.
They were in the study a good while, and Josephine and I just sat at the kitchen table holding hands until the coroner came and he was taken away. ”
“Did Milton or any of the deputies ask you any questions?” Dash asked. “Take a statement?”
“Not a one,” she said. “Milton came down after the coroner had left with Henry and said we could call a company to come clean things up, and to let him know if we find a suicide note. And that was that. Even I’d watched enough Law and Order to know that was all wrong.
Josephine had her hands full with the funeral and the estate, so I took care of calling the cleaners and getting things presentable so she didn’t have to face that when she came back to go through things. ”
“It sounds like you were a great help to all the Wainwrights,” I said.
“Like I said, they were great people. I miss them dearly.”
Dash leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “In those last weeks before Dr. Wainwright died, did you notice anything different with his behavior? Anything that stood out to you as odd?”
She was quiet for a moment. “He was distracted. Sometimes I’d be talking to him and you could tell he was in some far-off place.
That wasn’t like him. I knew something was troubling him, but it was never my place to pry.
Those last few weeks he’d leave his supper untouched on the warmer.
I’d come in the next morning and find it still there. ”
“What about a woman?” I asked. “Was he seeing someone?”
Lila Mae’s lips tightened in a straight line. “It wasn’t my business to pry into his personal life.”
“We’re not asking you to,” Dash said. “But we’re looking for any avenues that could lead us to Henry’s killer.”
“I see,” she said. “Well then, since you asked I assume you know there was someone. I’d had the run of that house for a long time, and then one morning I came in to make the bed and I noticed there were indents in both pillows.
And then another time I found a pair of earrings in the bathroom, and a cashmere scarf on the chair by the window.
But I never saw her or met her, so I couldn’t give you a name.
He was very discreet. It’s the only time since Charlotte died that he had another woman at the house. ”
“Was there anything else that stood out around the time of Henry’s death? Arguments or disagreements with anyone? Or maybe conversations you overheard with Henry?”
“Nothing like that,” she said. “The only other thing I can think of is the handkerchief that was just inside the door to his study. Looked like someone had dropped it.”
“It wasn’t Henry’s?” Dash asked.
“No,” she said. “He didn’t carry handkerchiefs. This one was white and monogrammed.”
“Do you remember the initials?”
“The letter J was embroidered in blue thread. It could’ve belonged to anyone. There were people in and out of that house all the time.”
“Did you pick it up?”
“No, I left it where it was,” she said. “You might ask Josephine if she remembers. It might have been hers even. As I recall, she was always partial to a handkerchief. She and her husband came to pack up his things when they were ready to put the house on the market.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Banks,” Dash said.
She nodded, but I could see the emotional toll the conversation had on her. “I’m glad I could help.”
I closed the laptop.
“What are the chances that handkerchief got packed away in the boxes in your living room?” Dash asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Walt was at the dining room table where we’d left him.
“Have you found a monogrammed handkerchief in the boxes from Henry’s home office?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he said. “We’re cataloguing everything since our collective memories aren’t as good as they used to be. But there’s no handkerchief on the list yet.”
“Just keep an eye out for it,” Dash said. “It could be important.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’m just going to change into something more comfortable for the drive.”
Chowder looked at me expectantly. “Not today,” I told him. “You’re going to stay and supervise the Silver Sleuths.”
He didn’t seem especially excited at his new assignment and turned toward the sunroom where he liked to nap.
I went upstairs and changed into red-and-white checked pants and a white sleeveless blouse and white Keds. I covered my head with a red scarf and tied it under my chin and grabbed my sunglasses.
Dash was waiting by the front door with his keys when I came back downstairs.
The first hour of the drive was all case. We talked through what Lila Mae had given us. The decanter moved before Milton got there. A full glass of whiskey that disappeared. A handkerchief that didn’t belong to Henry on the floor of his study.
“She didn’t even hesitate,” I said. “She said Milton always looked for the path of least resistance.”
“That man has really made my job a lot harder,” Dash said. “I hope I never meet him face-to-face.”
“If you did you should punch him,” I said. “It’d be a service for the community. A collective healing of sorts.”
“Healing by punching,” he said. “That’s a new one for me.”
“You’re still new here. Southerners tend to take matters into their own hands.”
“Believe me, I know. But getting back to the whiskey, we can assume two glasses meant someone else was in that room. Milton decided to take the path of least resistance by making it look like Henry was alone. Then he closed it out as a suicide and went home.”
“And nobody ever asked Lila Mae a single question.”
We drove in silence for a while after that, both of us turning it over.
We crossed into Georgia and the miles went quiet between us. By the time Florida opened up around us, flat and bright and smelling of salt even through the vents, we’d been riding in silence long enough that it had stopped being uncomfortable.
“You should get a dog,” I said.
He glanced over at me. “That’s a strong opinion.”
“It makes sense.” I ticked my fingers up one at a time. “You live on the water, and dogs love water. You could bring him to work, and you could make him a deputy with a smart vest and a little badge. And you live alone.” I gave him a look at that one. “Right?”
He smiled. “Right.”
“You’re a perfect candidate for a dog.”
“I didn’t know I was up for election.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel once. “What kind of dog are we talking about?”
“Something with some size to it,” I said. “You’re not a small dog person. Maybe a Lab. Maybe a hound of some kind.”
He didn’t say anything for a mile or two.
“I had a dog growing up,” he said finally. “Black Lab. Named him after a baseball player.”
And I guessed that was all I was going to get about that.
Amelia Island appeared through the windshield—live oaks draped with moss, salt air, a sky sitting low and wide over the sound. We found Serena Lovell’s street two blocks from the water, a quiet neighborhood of frame houses with deep porches and big yards meant for children and barbecues.
“I hope she’s home,” I said.
“Car is in the drive. Let’s just hope she talks with us.”
I saw the curtain twitch when Dash pulled into her driveway, and by the time we got out of his SUV she was standing on the porch. She looked terrified.
“Is everything okay? Is it one of my boys? Or Danny?”
“Everyone is fine,” Dash said. “I’m sorry to worry you.”
She pressed her hand to her chest as relief washed over her.
“We came down from Grimm Island,” he continued. “We’re hoping you can help us with a case we’re working on.”
A whole different expression came across her face. Fear, reluctance, acceptance…all in the matter of a few moments.
“Come on in,” she said. “I’ve got some sweet tea and homemade cookies.”