“He left to get flashlights,” I said. “But that wasn’t long enough to get upstairs and kill Clarissa.”
He opened his notebook and read from his list. “We need to talk to Isabel, Jessica, Linda, the chef and his assistant, maintenance, and housekeeping. There’s only one entrance to that turret room, maybe one of them saw something if they were in the hallway.”
“I think your friend with the lipstick left for a little while.”
He glanced up at me. “She did?”
“I saw her get up and go into the kitchen, but I didn’t notice when she came back.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I shouldn’t make assumptions about who was there.”
“We know our table stayed in the dining room.”
I sat back and wrapped my fingers around my teacup.
“Yes, but I didn’t suspect our mothers or your aunt.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Aunt Vi should never be assumed innocent.”
“Innocent of what?” Vi said from the doorway.
“Of murder, Vi,” I said to my tea.
“Oh, very funny.” She hustled to where we sat and pulled up a chair to get closer to the fire. “Are you making a list of suspects? I think that maintenance guy is kind of sketchy.”
She leaned over to look at Mac’s list.
“Nice sweater,” she said.
Mac held her gaze. He was even better at a stare-off than she was.
“We were just talking about who was in the dining room the whole time and then also in the lounge after the power went out,” I said to break up the tension.
Vi nodded. “Wally was there the whole time. He hovered with that water pitcher all through dinner. I’ve never been so well hydrated in my life!” She took Mac’s notebook and examined his list. “The only guests I saw leave were Isabel and Mavis. But I can’t believe one of the workshop gals would have done it. Frankly, knitting is what keeps us from killing anyone. It’s like therapy.” Vi shook her head. “It had to be the maintenance guy. Maybe that’s why the power went out in the first place. He was busy killing Clarissa and wasn’t dealing with the generator the way he should have.”
“That’s a huge leap, Ms. Greer,” Mac said. “The last thing we need is for everyone to jump to conclusions.”
“We need more information then,” Vi said. She flipped pages in Mac’s notebook. Mac’s fingers clenched. I took it from her and handed it back to Mac.
“It wouldn’t hurt to start asking people what they saw,” I said. “The longer we wait, the more likely they’ll forget, or talk about it enough that no one will remember what they actually saw that night.”
“You can start during breakfast,” Vi said. “You should talk to Isabel before she gets involved with her workshop.”
10
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.”