Page 83 of The Mystery Guest

“J.D. was having an affair with that pretty, young secretary of his, Serena Sharpe,” Beulah says.

“He was not,” I reply, but I feel another nudge under the table.

“Molly’s right,” Detective Stark adds. “Turns out that note was from someone else in this hotel.”

“Look, not every KultureVulture item has a clear provenance, but let me assure you that J.D. was a fraud,” Beulah says. “His cue cards from the day of the big event prove it.”

“So you have his cue cards?”

“I do,” Beulah says. “I bought them alongside everything else.”

“You knew we were conducting a murder investigation, but you never thought to hand over those cards?” Stark says.

Beulah snorts. “Some investigation. You don’t know a thing about the man. J. D. Grimthorpe had a closet full of secrets.”

“Secrets?” Stark says. “Such as?”

“Did you know that at one point in his life, he was a raging alcoholic?” Beulah offers. “I tracked down employees who used to work for him—security guards, gardeners, and a maid. They were all fired. According to the maid, J.D.’s wife was a tyrant and he himself wasnotwho he appeared to be. The maid accused him of getting handsy, then got fired for speaking up. He didn’t dare lay a hand on me, though.” Beulah picks more cat hair off her bosom and sends it flying.

“So you met him?” I ask. “You met J.D. in person?”

“Yes, I did. Right outside his hotel room. Lesson learned: beware of meeting your idols. They don’t always live up to expectations.”

“His books were powerful,” Stark says, “and yet he was kind of weak, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” Beulah says. “Liver and kidney damage from years of alcohol abuse.”

“So you were aware of that as well,” Stark says.

“Of course. Like I said, J.D. was my life’s work.”

Just then, Lily and Angela appear at the entrance of the tearoom. They wheel a tea cart toward the table. Angela is wringing her hands on her apron, her eyes flitting about the room. Lily’s shoulders are back, her head held higher than I’ve ever seen before. For once, she doesn’t look skittish at all.

“My apologies for the interruption,” Lily says, her voice resonant, a clarion bell.

We all turn her way.

“Angela and I were instructed to bring in this tea cart,” she explains. “It’s complimentary, for Mr. Grimthorpe’s number-one fan.” She pauses and executes the most perfect curtsy I have ever seen.

“That’s very thoughtful,” says Beulah.

“You’re not wearing your pin,” Angela notes, pointing to the spot on Beulah’s sweater where her #1Fanpin used to be.

“I lost it,” Beulah explains.

“That’s funny,” says Angela. “I thought I saw you take it off the other day at the Social. You tossed it on the table and left it behind.”

“Must’ve been someone else,” Beulah insists. “No one can tell us LAMBS apart. It’s rather insulting.”

Lily picks up the teapot from the cart and pours steaming tea into a Regency Grand cup. She places it in front of Beulah. “How do you take your tea, Ms. Barnes?” she asks.

“Four lumps of sugar,” Beulah replies. “Bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Ah yes,” says Lily. “You take your tea the same way Mr. Grimthorpe did.”

“No,” Beulah replies. “J.D. took his with honey, not sugar. Always honey. Loads of it.”

And there it is—another telling detail, which Lily set her up to reveal. A Mona Lisa smile edges onto Lily’s lips as she ladles four sugar cubes into Beulah’s cup. She stirs the tea with a Regency Grand silver spoon, which makes a pleasing tinkling sound against the porcelain cup.

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