Page 82 of Murder on the Page

“Sure, okay, but keep it to yourselves.” I opened the boxes and motioned to the shortbread cookies, pound cake, and thefresh batch of Maids of Honor. I’d also included some of the raspberry-chocolate tarts. To Tegan, I said, “By the way, I saw the police questioning Quinby Canfield this morning.”

She took a piece of pound cake and bit into it. “Ooh,so good and rich. Saw them where?” she asked, nibbling more of her treat.

“Outside Blessed Bean on Mountain Road.”

“I love that place.” Stella unbuttoned the single button of her tailored jacket and brushed a crumb off her silk blouse. “Quinby’s wife sings there.”

“Oh?”

“She entertains at three other places, too,” Stella added.

I must have been wrong about her being allowed to perform merely because she was a relative. I supposed my hearing could have been off, and the woman’s voice was better than I’d remembered. I said, “Didn’t you say Quinby was strapped for cash? If they’re a two-income family, they should have plenty coming in.”

“Folk singers don’t make a lot,” Stella said. “It’s a gig job. Very iffy.”

Tegan took a tart and bit into it. “Golly, Allie, your best yet. These will be a hit at the memorial.”

“I’m not sure chocolate tarts are appropriate for the time period.”

“Really?” she muttered. “Wasn’t chocolate brought to Europe in the late 1500s?”

“Yes, but—”

“Back to Zach,” she said, cutting me off. “Do you know what he was asking the Canfields?”

“I got the impression he’d stumbled upon them,” I said. “Right place, right time.”

“No handcuffs involved?” Lillian waved a shortbread cookie as she posed the question.

“No. Quinby isn’t a suspect, as far as I know,” I said. “Heliked Marigold. It’s Piper he wants to malign. I guess Zach was asking him why he suspected her.”

Tegan said, “Allie spoke to Piper yesterday. She doesn’t have an alibi for last Saturday morning.”

“Why would she need one?” Stella asked. “There’s no way she murdered Marigold. Like I started to say when I was here the other day, when Quinby rudely cut me off”—she sniffed—“I saw her that morning around seven thirty. In her house. With someone.”

“She told me she was alone.” I recalled how she had reiterated the word “alone,” which had sent off alarm bells.

“That doesn’t track,” Stella said. “She was definitely with someone. And that someone was a man. Piper is no slouch, and the other person was a head taller.”

“Could you make out his features?” I asked.

“I only saw shadows through the sheer drapes. They were moving about the room as if they were pacing.”

“Why do you think she would she lie about being alone?” I asked.

“Maybe the person she was meeting was married,” Tegan suggested.

“Or . . .” Lillian clicked her tongue. “Or it was a student.”

CHAPTER20

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

—Mary Bennet, in Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudice

“No,” I said firmly. “Don’t go there.”

“An of-age student.” Lillian raised both hands to ward off my wrath.

---