professionals.’ Norman and Adam sported the folded-armed, steely expression of men-who-will-not-be-corralled.
Alyssa had commandeered the patient Ellie, who was, in turn, trying to steer the talk back to her own agenda. At one point, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice broke through a momentary lull in the conversation, “and we had to wait around for two days after the graduation party for that investigation to end. We almost missed our plane to Florence.” In the candlelight, even her eyes seemed to pout.
Ellie caught Iris’ eyes and slugged back the remaining wine in her glass. Immediately animated conversations broke out on any subject but the long-ago graduation party or Carey’s death.
Iris sighed. She hadn’t been able to get C.C. or Jerry to go near those topics. She figured she might as well chat with Mack about how to keep deadly nightshade from taking over her garden. That at least was useful information. She and Ellie could regroup after dinner and decide if they would go to any more of the scheduled events.
But just as Louise brought in the apricot tart with lavender ice cream, the harsh sound of the front bell froze a half -dozen witty exchanges mid-repartee.
Adam broke the silence. “It must be Will! He loves to make a dramatic entrance.”
Eight sets of eyes followed Norman as he scurried to the adjacent entry hall. Alyssa jumped up and followed him as far as the framed opening, with Adam tagging behind. Everyone else craned their necks to get a better view. Norman opened the door to two men in dark clothes. Eight sets of ears tuned in.
“Hello. I’m Detective Paul Malone of the Cambridge Major Crimes Division and this is Detective Connors.” A tall, scarecrow of a man in an ill-fitting sports jacket tipped his head at a shorter man and they both indicated the gold badges on their belts. “Sorry to interrupt your party. Are you Norman Meeker, the owner of this residence?”
The color in Norman’s face leached away and he looked unsure whether he should admit to his name.
“Is Iris Reid one of your guests, Mr. Meeker?”
Norman found his voice. “Uh…” Iris approached the door.
“I’m Iris Reid. What’s this about, Detective?”
“Do you know a William Reynolds, Ms. Reid?”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to him? He called me from California last week and wanted to meet today. But he never showed up.”
At this point, Alyssa appeared at the door. “What’s happened to Will? We’re having a reunion and he’s supposed to be here.”
“Yeah, where’s Will? Has there been an accident?” Adam spoke from above his wife’s head.
Next came G.B. “I’m Professor Broussard, Officers. Perhaps you could fill us all in on what has happened.”
Malone looked like a no-bullshit type of guy. He’d probably been called out from Cambridge after his shift had ended to try to get information from some people at a fancy dinner party in Lincoln. He did not look happy. He ran his hand though his thinning hair and said “All of you, please go back to the dining room. We intend to speak with everyone. Not you, Ms. Reid. You stay with me. Connors, get statements from everyone. Find out if anyone saw Mr. Reynolds after he landed at Logan.”
As Connors herded his charges back to the dining table, Malone steered Iris into the living room ar ea, trying to find some privacy— not an easy task in an open plan house.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Reid, but we discovered Mr. Reynold’s body an hour ago. We called his wife in California, and she said that he took the red-eye last night, had plans to meet with you, and then come out here for this dinner.”
Alyssa’s wail rang through the space, “Oh, no— Will is DEAD! How could he be DEAD? Why would anyone want to kill him?”
Iris and the detective looked over at the faces, white in the glow of the candles. They could hear Connors trying to establish control as Adam moved in to contend with his force field of a
Alyssa had commandeered the patient Ellie, who was, in turn, trying to steer the talk back to her own agenda. At one point, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice broke through a momentary lull in the conversation, “and we had to wait around for two days after the graduation party for that investigation to end. We almost missed our plane to Florence.” In the candlelight, even her eyes seemed to pout.
Ellie caught Iris’ eyes and slugged back the remaining wine in her glass. Immediately animated conversations broke out on any subject but the long-ago graduation party or Carey’s death.
Iris sighed. She hadn’t been able to get C.C. or Jerry to go near those topics. She figured she might as well chat with Mack about how to keep deadly nightshade from taking over her garden. That at least was useful information. She and Ellie could regroup after dinner and decide if they would go to any more of the scheduled events.
But just as Louise brought in the apricot tart with lavender ice cream, the harsh sound of the front bell froze a half -dozen witty exchanges mid-repartee.
Adam broke the silence. “It must be Will! He loves to make a dramatic entrance.”
Eight sets of eyes followed Norman as he scurried to the adjacent entry hall. Alyssa jumped up and followed him as far as the framed opening, with Adam tagging behind. Everyone else craned their necks to get a better view. Norman opened the door to two men in dark clothes. Eight sets of ears tuned in.
“Hello. I’m Detective Paul Malone of the Cambridge Major Crimes Division and this is Detective Connors.” A tall, scarecrow of a man in an ill-fitting sports jacket tipped his head at a shorter man and they both indicated the gold badges on their belts. “Sorry to interrupt your party. Are you Norman Meeker, the owner of this residence?”
The color in Norman’s face leached away and he looked unsure whether he should admit to his name.
“Is Iris Reid one of your guests, Mr. Meeker?”
Norman found his voice. “Uh…” Iris approached the door.
“I’m Iris Reid. What’s this about, Detective?”
“Do you know a William Reynolds, Ms. Reid?”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to him? He called me from California last week and wanted to meet today. But he never showed up.”
At this point, Alyssa appeared at the door. “What’s happened to Will? We’re having a reunion and he’s supposed to be here.”
“Yeah, where’s Will? Has there been an accident?” Adam spoke from above his wife’s head.
Next came G.B. “I’m Professor Broussard, Officers. Perhaps you could fill us all in on what has happened.”
Malone looked like a no-bullshit type of guy. He’d probably been called out from Cambridge after his shift had ended to try to get information from some people at a fancy dinner party in Lincoln. He did not look happy. He ran his hand though his thinning hair and said “All of you, please go back to the dining room. We intend to speak with everyone. Not you, Ms. Reid. You stay with me. Connors, get statements from everyone. Find out if anyone saw Mr. Reynolds after he landed at Logan.”
As Connors herded his charges back to the dining table, Malone steered Iris into the living room ar ea, trying to find some privacy— not an easy task in an open plan house.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Reid, but we discovered Mr. Reynold’s body an hour ago. We called his wife in California, and she said that he took the red-eye last night, had plans to meet with you, and then come out here for this dinner.”
Alyssa’s wail rang through the space, “Oh, no— Will is DEAD! How could he be DEAD? Why would anyone want to kill him?”
Iris and the detective looked over at the faces, white in the glow of the candles. They could hear Connors trying to establish control as Adam moved in to contend with his force field of a
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