television newscast, and on every front page in the country, I suspect. Are you all right, Jessica? It must have been dreadful, what you’ve gone through.”
“Yes, Seth, it’s been a very difficult time. There are dozens of strangers wanting to talk to me. I hear strange voices and see strange faces on the television. There are words being written about me that I hate, that bear no relationship to reality at all. It’s so wonderful to ... to touch base with something I know, something real.” I broke down completely, the sounds of my anguish transmitted thousands of miles from the Savoy Hotel in London to a small, modest home in the small, modest town of Cabot Cove, Maine.
“The press has been all over town, Jessica, dubbin’ around lookin’ for dirt.”
“They’re all over the hotel here, too, Seth. I hate it. I’d give anything to be in Cabot Cove.”
“Why don’t you come on home then?”
“I can’t. I have to make my speech, and there are other things I’m involved with at the conference.”
I could almost see him shaking his head at me. He said, “Ginny made up a big batch o’ Bakewell Cream biscuits today, Jessica, and delivered me some. I wish you were here to share them.”
I smiled. “Save me some, Seth. I’ll be home the end of the week.”
“I wish you’d make it sooner, though I know you well enough, Jessica, to know your stubborn side’ll dictate things. Most important, you take care of yourself, and you call if you need anything, anything at all, you heah me?”
“Yes, I hear you loud and clear, Seth. Thank you. I’ll call again. I promise.”
“Be sure and do that, Jessica. By the way, before we get off, any ideas on who killed Ms. Ainsworth?”
“No. The prime suspect seems to be me, but that will change. Frankly, Seth, I haven’t given it much thought.”
“But you will, won’t you?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Whatever you do, do it carefully. ’Bye, Jessica. Everybody’s askin’ for you here.”
I didn’t want the call to end, but it did. I returned a few calls to friends from ISMW and tried to concentrate on the notes I’d been making for my speech. It was a losing battle, and I allowed fatigue—emotional and physical—to win out. I fell asleep in my chair, the taste of Bakewell Cream biscuits very real in my mouth.
Chapter Six
I managed a few hours of sleep after talking to Seth, then called down to get the latest batch of messages. There were dozens, virtually all from the media, and two placed by a woman named Maria Giacona. The operator said that she had not stated her business, only that it was urgent she speak with me.
I asked the operator to connect me with the assistant manager, a pleasant young man who’d been gracious from the moment I arrived. When he came on the line, I asked whether it would be possible for me to have dinner downstairs without confronting members of the press.
“Of course, Mrs. Fletcher. There’s still an assortment of them about, but we’re keeping them in a designated area. Just let me know what time you wish to dine and I’ll come to personally escort you.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dine in your room?”
“No, I’m beginning to develop a case of cabin fever.”
“Pardon?”
I laughed, and it felt good. “An American term meaning I’ve been in one confined space too long. No, I think I would enjoy dining in the restaurant.”
“Then, that’s what it shall be. Do you prefer the Grill or the River Room?”
As much as I loved the River Room, this was not the night to step back into a world of memories, as pleasant as they might be. I opted for the Grill, and he made a reservation for me an hour from then.
I picked up the phone and returned Lucas Darling’s calls. He answered on the first ring. “Jessica, Jessica, good Lord, Jessica, what a dreadful thing you’ve been put through. Bad enough someone murdered Marjorie, but to be the one who
“Yes, Seth, it’s been a very difficult time. There are dozens of strangers wanting to talk to me. I hear strange voices and see strange faces on the television. There are words being written about me that I hate, that bear no relationship to reality at all. It’s so wonderful to ... to touch base with something I know, something real.” I broke down completely, the sounds of my anguish transmitted thousands of miles from the Savoy Hotel in London to a small, modest home in the small, modest town of Cabot Cove, Maine.
“The press has been all over town, Jessica, dubbin’ around lookin’ for dirt.”
“They’re all over the hotel here, too, Seth. I hate it. I’d give anything to be in Cabot Cove.”
“Why don’t you come on home then?”
“I can’t. I have to make my speech, and there are other things I’m involved with at the conference.”
I could almost see him shaking his head at me. He said, “Ginny made up a big batch o’ Bakewell Cream biscuits today, Jessica, and delivered me some. I wish you were here to share them.”
I smiled. “Save me some, Seth. I’ll be home the end of the week.”
“I wish you’d make it sooner, though I know you well enough, Jessica, to know your stubborn side’ll dictate things. Most important, you take care of yourself, and you call if you need anything, anything at all, you heah me?”
“Yes, I hear you loud and clear, Seth. Thank you. I’ll call again. I promise.”
“Be sure and do that, Jessica. By the way, before we get off, any ideas on who killed Ms. Ainsworth?”
“No. The prime suspect seems to be me, but that will change. Frankly, Seth, I haven’t given it much thought.”
“But you will, won’t you?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Whatever you do, do it carefully. ’Bye, Jessica. Everybody’s askin’ for you here.”
I didn’t want the call to end, but it did. I returned a few calls to friends from ISMW and tried to concentrate on the notes I’d been making for my speech. It was a losing battle, and I allowed fatigue—emotional and physical—to win out. I fell asleep in my chair, the taste of Bakewell Cream biscuits very real in my mouth.
Chapter Six
I managed a few hours of sleep after talking to Seth, then called down to get the latest batch of messages. There were dozens, virtually all from the media, and two placed by a woman named Maria Giacona. The operator said that she had not stated her business, only that it was urgent she speak with me.
I asked the operator to connect me with the assistant manager, a pleasant young man who’d been gracious from the moment I arrived. When he came on the line, I asked whether it would be possible for me to have dinner downstairs without confronting members of the press.
“Of course, Mrs. Fletcher. There’s still an assortment of them about, but we’re keeping them in a designated area. Just let me know what time you wish to dine and I’ll come to personally escort you.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dine in your room?”
“No, I’m beginning to develop a case of cabin fever.”
“Pardon?”
I laughed, and it felt good. “An American term meaning I’ve been in one confined space too long. No, I think I would enjoy dining in the restaurant.”
“Then, that’s what it shall be. Do you prefer the Grill or the River Room?”
As much as I loved the River Room, this was not the night to step back into a world of memories, as pleasant as they might be. I opted for the Grill, and he made a reservation for me an hour from then.
I picked up the phone and returned Lucas Darling’s calls. He answered on the first ring. “Jessica, Jessica, good Lord, Jessica, what a dreadful thing you’ve been put through. Bad enough someone murdered Marjorie, but to be the one who
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