Page 62 of Murder on the Page

Helga, the B&B’s cook and housekeeper, a woman in her sixties with a good-natured spirit and a keen eye for whatever needed attending, greeted the pair and accepted their overcoats. She hung them on the coatrack in the foyer and turned to us. “Welcome, Miss Tegan,” she said. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t seen Helga in her pale blue uniform with broad white lapels and white cuffs. “And Miss Allie, so lovely to see you.”

“You too, Helga.”

I’d never stayed at the Blue Lantern, but occasionally Noeline invited me to enjoy one of Helga’s legendary breakfasts. Her menu included a variety of egg dishes and some of the most delectable Belgian waffles and French toast I’d ever tasted.

“Tegan.” Dennell, bundled in a midcalf coat over a light turtleneck sweater, jeans, and boots, was standing in the parlor to the right. The silver-and-gold hook earrings and heart-shaped pendant she was wearing looked like art. She was holding a glass of sparkling water. “Over here.”

“Be right there,” Tegan said.

Some guests were convening in the parlor’s various seating areas. Many were enjoying the cheese-and-wine spread that the inn set out every evening. I saw Rick and Noeline mingling with them. The knot of Rick’s tie was loosened slightly, as if he’d slackened it on purpose after a long day of working on securing bonds. Noeline, pretty in a cream silk blouse over slim black pants and short heels, was pouring the wine and chatting up its qualities. A piano sonata was playing softly in the background.

Tegan fetched herself a glass of Perrier with lime from the handsome mahogany sideboard, while I accepted a glass of white wine from Noeline, and then we moseyed to Dennell.

Tegan hugged her and reintroduced us. “Dennell, you remember Allie, my best friend since kindergarten?”

“I do. Nice to see you.” Dennell’s smile was strained. I wondered if she would have preferred staying home but was forcing herself to be social.

“Will my having a glass of wine bother you, Dennell?” I asked.

“No. I’ve never been a wine drinker. Scotch is . . .wasmy weakness.”

“Your jewelry is gorgeous,” I said. “Your designs?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I told you she’s talented,” Tegan chimed. “Every item hasclasswritten all over it.”

She guided us to a furniture arrangement that included a settee and an antique Louis XV–style upholstered chair. The two of them sat on the settee. I took the chair.

“Tell me everything you’ve learned so far about your aunt’s murder,” Dennell said.

Of course, she’d want to know. Everyone in town did.

“The police haven’t told us much,” Tegan said.

“Who do you suspect?” Dennell sipped her beverage.

“My half sister,” Tegan said acidly.

I reached over and flicked her thigh.

“Just kidding. But she’s such a pain in the—” She swallowed the next word along with a sip of Perrier. “Allie, I meant to tell you, Vanna did not find that ring Ms. Ivey mentioned. There was other jewelry, she said, but it was all costume stuff.”

I wondered if the police had searched Marigold’s car. If she had taken the diamond-and-ruby target ring to be cleaned, as I’d quietly theorized, she might have kept the jewelry store ticket in the glove box.

“Also Vanna invited a member of the Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America to appraise the rare books at the shop and the ones at Auntie’s home. They’re coming to town next week.”

“Was Vanna at the bookshop when you found your aunt?”Dennell asked, segueing to the murder. “I heard there was quite a mob waiting to go inside.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Tegan answered.

I listed the people who were there: Piper, Graham, some people I hadn’t recognized—tourists, most likely. “Noeline and Rick were at the front. Chloe arrived late. Vanna showed up after that.”

“Do you think someone in the crowd killed her?” Dennell asked.

“A customer suggested that Piper killed her,” I said, “but Graham Wynn’s neighbor intimated that Graham has been acting suspicious. Maybe drugs are involved.”

“Graham’s letter carrier saw him arguing with Marigold,” Tegan offered.

---