A Fright to the Death (6 page)

The knitters straggled into the dining room looking somewhat unraveled. With no hot water for showers, no electricity for curling irons or hair dryers, and a distinct chill in the air, it looked like we were in for a very long weekend. I noticed, however, that every one of them was wearing a warm, cozy-looking sweater or shawl. Fortunately, René had managed to create a lovely breakfast without electricity. At least the gas stove allowed for a hot meal. He told us he and Emmett had moved all of the perishables out into the snow until the power came back on for the refrigerator.

The gang piled their plates with eggs, toast, potatoes, and fresh fruit. Only orange juice and tea were offered since the coffeemaker was electric. I saw Mac approach Isabel across the room. She wore a different stunning scarf and apparently needed no electricity to make her hair look perfect. Her smile was dazzling until he spoke and gestured in my direction. She nodded and followed him to our table.

“Hello again, Clyde.” She touched my shoulder as she passed to sit across the small table from me.

“Isabel.” I sipped my tea. I was still annoyed at the way she kept looking at Mac.

“We’re asking everyone about their movements last night during dinner and after the power went out,” Mac began.

“I feel like I need an alibi,” she said and laughed.

“It’s just routine in a case like this,” I said.

Isabel pursed her lips. “Routine to question people in an accidental death?”

I let out a gust of air and glanced at Mac. He nodded and tilted his head toward Isabel. There was no way we were going to be able to keep this a secret.

“We think that Clarissa was killed,” I said quietly.

Isabel sat back in her chair and held my gaze. “I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

“We heard you had a history . . .”

Isabel made a hissing noise that sounded like an irritated cat. “That’s an understatement—but before you jump to any conclusions, Clarissa plowed through her life leaving decimation in her wake. It would be harder to find someone who
didn’t
want to kill her.”

“We’ve heard that as well,” Mac said. “So, last night?”

She sat up straight and clasped her hands on the table. “I went to my room with a headache just after dinner started. I wanted to be sure everyone was settled and then I went to take some medicine and lie down for a few minutes.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “The next thing I knew, I woke up and the lights were out in my room. I felt a bit disoriented, but was sure I’d left the lights on after I took the medicine and lay down.”

“What time was it when you woke up?” Mac asked.

“I don’t know.” She pointed to her wrist. “It was so dark I couldn’t make out the hands on my watch. But I went out into the hall and sort of stumbled along until I found the stairs. I heard voices coming from the lounge and saw lights at the end of the hallway, so I went there.” She shrugged. “It must have been just after everyone had arrived, because Wally was explaining that the power would be back on soon. I waited with everyone else until Jessica entered with the candles and then we heard Linda screaming and went upstairs to see what was wrong.”

“Did you see anyone in the hallway on your way to your room?” I asked.

She thought for a moment and then slowly shook her head. She didn’t look at either of us. “I don’t think so. Only the maid. She was finishing in my room just as I arrived.”

“Did you see where she went after your room?” Mac asked.

Isabel shook her head and her earrings swung gently. “I was so focused on getting to my medicine, I didn’t pay any attention.”

Mac thanked her and she walked to the group of workshoppers that had gathered by the door.

Isabel led the knitters into the lounge where the fire was lit, and we stopped Mavis on her way out of the dining room.

Mac explained what we needed and her face lit up.

“Oh, I’d be honored to help you, Detective McKenzie. Your mother has told us all about you.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “That sweater looks wonderful on you.” She tugged on a loose string. “Maybe I’ll finish it this weekend and you can keep it.”

Mac gave her a tight smile and gestured toward the table. We sat and Mavis gazed at Mac while producing tiny
scissors to snip the loose strings. I worried she planned to finish the sweater with Mac still in it. He cast a pleading glance in my direction.

“I noticed that you went into the kitchen during dinner last night,” I said.

Mavis tore her gaze from Mac to look at me. She nodded. “Yes, I went to find that handsome chef fellow. His food was just divine and I wanted to compliment him and find out what else was on the menu for the weekend.”

Mavis rummaged in her voluminous purse and pulled out a large sewing needle. She began weaving the loose ends into the sweater. “But I couldn’t find him. His assistant was there, looking rather sullen at having to do all the desserts on his own. I went through the back door of the kitchen to see if the chef was there, but
still
didn’t find him. Then I remembered my blood pressure medication and went up to my room to get it. I had just come back into the dining room when the lights went out.”

“Did you see anyone on your way to your room?”

“No.” Mavis slowly shook her head. “I didn’t
see
a soul. But I thought I heard someone in Violet’s room. I’m right between Violet and Lucille.”

Mac and I looked at each other and I raised an eyebrow. Who would have been in that room?

“What, exactly, did you hear?” I said.

“Just a couple of thumps. I guess it could have been anything—even that white cat that keeps jumping out at people.”

Mavis’s mouth pulled downward into a frown. “I can’t say I liked Clarissa at all. We had a bit of . . . history, but it always makes me very sad when a young life is wasted.” She dabbed at a tear in the corner of her eye. Before I had a chance to react to what she had said, she spotted another
loose string and went after it. Mac held up his hand to stop her.

“Okay, thank you,” Mac said. “We appreciate your help. Let us know if you think of anything else.” He stood up and backed away from her.

I thought it was one of his fastest interviews on record and suspected he regretted accepting her offer of a warm sweater.

“I wish I could have been more helpful,” Mavis said. She lunged for another string, but I stepped between them and walked her to the door.

Mavis reluctantly left, casting an adoring glance toward Mac on her way out of the dining room. Mac kept his eyes on his notebook. Once the room was empty, we decided to try to catch the kitchen staff while they were still cleaning up from breakfast.

Mac walked into the kitchen and came out with the chef. René wore white from head to toe including one of those tall hats—not quite Chef Boyardee, but not subtle, either.

He sat and nodded at us. “I’m sorry your vacation has been ruined. I heard you were on your way out of this winter weather,” he said. “But from a selfish standpoint, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t taken charge.”

His accent was less pronounced than it had been the day before, or maybe I was getting used to it.

I grimaced and nodded. “We’ll do our best to figure out what happened.”

“How can I help?” He spread his hands out, palms up.

“Can you remember what you were doing last evening during dinner and afterward when the lights went out?” I asked.

René took a deep breath. “Of course. Obviously, I was short staffed due to the weather.” He waved his arm in the direction of the windows, which showed a bright white sky and piles of snow. “Jessica sent most of the staff home yesterday when the weather started to get bad. They all have families to get home to, so she took volunteers.”

“And you volunteered?” Mac asked.

René turned pink. “Actually, I live here. Jessica and I are engaged. First, she fell in love with my cooking, then she fell in love with me.” He grinned. “The family quarters are fairly spacious, so I stay with her most nights. I have a small apartment in town, but I haven’t seen it in a week.”

Mac sat back in his chair. “So, who volunteered to stay?”

“Well, Emmett is a single guy and he practically lives here anyway,” René said. “He’s a good worker and he wants his own restaurant someday. Kirk is also single and his boss had to get home to his wife. We had one housekeeper stay—there are only three of them and I think they drew straws.”

“Where does the staff sleep in a situation like this?” I asked, thinking of my own rooming situation.

“We have a couple of small rooms in the basement that we use for emergencies. They were originally for the servants when the house was built. Staying there for a night or two is one thing. I can’t imagine living there.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Back to last night,” Mac said. “Can you tell us where you were?”

“Right, sorry. Emmett and I made dinner. Fortunately, with this knitter convention, I knew ahead of time how many
people I would be feeding for the weekend, so I’d purchased enough food to last. But, as you know, we still decided to limit choices to be sure the food would stretch and we wouldn’t end up serving grilled cheese sandwiches by the end of the weekend.”

He shuddered dramatically at the thought of grilled cheese. We waited for him to continue.

“I helped serve the meal, and then went down to the freezer to get the ice cream to go with the tarte tatin. I had just returned to the kitchen when the lights went out.”

“We have a witness who went looking for you during that time. She couldn’t find you and said that Emmett didn’t know where you were.”

René shrugged. “I don’t know why he would have said that. He knew where I went.”

“Did you see anyone while you were in the basement?” I asked.

René shook his head no. “I just went to get the ice cream and came back. I didn’t see anyone.”

“What did you do when the lights went out?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, it happens more than we would like so we have a protocol in place. Emmett and I checked the thermometers in the fridges and freezers and recorded it in the log. Sometimes it takes a little while to get the generator working so I keep track of the temp to be sure things aren’t defrosting and refreezing. Emmett grumbles, but I like to be safe. The health inspector is a stickler and having everything documented shows that I run a tight ship.” He sat back and his accent got a bit thicker. “Plus, I am attempting to have the restaurant rated by Michelin. I don’t want anything to interfere.”

“So you and Emmett were together the whole time that the lights were out?” Mac asked.

René nodded. “We were busy trying to stack dishes and get organized in the dark—we had a couple of portable lanterns. We heard noise in the hall and Wallace came to tell us about Clarissa—I went to find Jess and that’s when I met you in the hall.”

Mac reached out to shake his hand.

“Thanks for your time. Will you ask Emmett to come talk to us?”

After René had gone through the kitchen door, Mac said, “What do you think?”

“It seems reasonable, but he doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. We’ll have to see what Emmett says about how long he was gone.”

Emmett greeted us with a wide smile and a wave from the door. He was tall and lanky with short brown hair. He also wore kitchen whites but had left the hat in the kitchen. He sat in the chair that had been vacated by René.

“René told me you’re talking to people about last night. I’m happy to help.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“As you probably know, we’re treating Clarissa’s death as suspicious. We’re just trying to get a picture of what happened,” Mac said. “Can you tell us what you were doing during dinner and after the power went out?”

Emmett sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “First, René and I served the dinner. It got pretty hectic since Wally was our substitute server and he had never been a waiter before.”

Mac and I grimaced.

“We hardly noticed,” Mac said.

Emmett chuckled and lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “He tried his best, but it’s not an easy job. Fortunately, he seems to have charmed all the knitters and no one complained.”

I waited for him to continue.

“Then, once everyone seemed settled out here I went back into the kitchen to start preparing the dessert. It was going to be tarte tatin and ice cream. René went downstairs to get the ice cream and then just as he got back, the power went out. He has a list of things we need to do in the kitchen if the power goes, so we turned on our lanterns and got to work.” He sat back and laced his fingers over his knee.

“Did you see anyone else in the halls or the kitchen?”

“One of the guests came through looking for René but I told her he was gone and she went out through the hallway door. I didn’t see her again until this morning at breakfast.”

“That must have been Mavis,” I said.

Emmett shrugged. “I don’t know her name, but it’s not unusual for us to have visitors wandering into the kitchen to talk to the chef.” He smiled. “Some of the guests act like he’s Wolfgang Puck or something.”

Emmett echoed René’s story about working in the kitchen until they heard noises in the hall. We thanked him and watched him lope back to the kitchen.