Keeping Mum (A Garden Society Mystery) Page 4

  Annie glared at her. “And there are some media people who need attention. I think they’re more your type than mine.”

  Cam got the hint. It was time to get back to work, and the media was as good a place to start as any. She recognized Roger Griggs, editor of the Roanoke Tribune, and Rob’s boss. He was talking to someone else, which was just as well. It left her free to focus on Toni Howe, a television talk show host she had worked with in the past and enjoyed. Cam was happy to approach her.

  “Toni, it’s nice to see you,” Cam said.

  “You, too, Cam. This should definitely make news, and Mr. Windermere was generous enough to buy a media table.”

  “In addition to his own? That was generous.” Cam had wondered how they’d managed to all be at this exclusive, expensive event. Windermere probably hoped to influence the flow of information.

  At the sound of his name, Derrick turned from some other conversation, grinned at Cam, and bit Toni’s earlobe. “Can’t be said I don’t love the media,” he said.

  As soon as he left, Toni took a tissue and wiped her ear.

  Cam gave her a questioning look, so Toni stepped closer.

  “None of us could afford to be here without him, and it’s newsworthy. Unfortunately, I am additionally indentured. He’s signed as the primary sponsor of my show for the spring season.”

  Cam felt bad for her. Toni was a decent person: respectable, ethical, and kind. Cam hated that the lech had his thumb on her.

  “I hope a much better sponsor comes along soon,” Cam whispered.

  “I hear you have an in with Nelly’s Nurseries,” Toni said.

  “So do you! Just call her. Use my name if it helps, but if you promise to do a couple of gardening features, I’m sure she’d be interested.”

  “I may have to do just that. Because I can’t take this.” She eyed Derrick Windermere cautiously.

  A triangle tinkled, and Cam was as startled as anybody to realize it was suppertime. Samantha was gesturing with her arm, and the patrons were heading in to find their names among the place cards.

  Supper was held in a large carpeted hall in the main building. The ceilings were high, and moonlight came in through the windows. Out-of-season hibiscus and exotic bird of paradise, which Cam thought must spend the evenings in a hothouse, lined the edges, but the rest of the decorations were strictly vintage.

  Cam and Annie ducked all the way through. They were eating in the kitchen. She supposed some people might be offended not to merit the thousand-dollar seats when they’d planned the event. Joel Jaimeson was certainly out there, doing Samantha’s bidding, no doubt. But it was a nice break for Cam and Annie, if they ignored Petunia’s cursing, anyway.

  “Tunia, couldn’t somebody else have helped Nick tonight?” Cam asked.

  “As a matter of fact, Nick and I are trying to set aside a little money for the baby. Paying somebody else to work doesn’t help!”

  “Sheesh, I know. I don’t mean you can’t work. I just thought long days can’t be good for you.”

  “I don’t need a lecture.”

  Annie touched Cam’s arm to remind her Petunia would never be a person that could be reasoned with. She was a challenge to be gotten around. Cam would have to work with Nick to figure out how to trick Petunia into resting more.

  Cam tried to casually clear some of the appetizer plates that had been returned to the kitchen between bites of her own food so Nick and Petunia would have a smaller job, but each time she did, Petunia glared. Finally, Annie gestured and Cam took Petunia’s hand and led her out the servant’s exit.

  “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Better than when I was throwing up.”

  “You were supposed to have an ultrasound, weren’t you?”

  “Last week,” she admitted.

  “Did you find out if I’m an auntie or an uncle?” Cam joked.

  That finally got a laugh. “We don’t want to know.”

  “Do you need any help with the nursery? Painting? Putting together furniture?”

  “Well . . . I did have a stencil I wanted to do . . . You’re more talented at that than I am.”

  “A painted stencil?”

  “A trim, all the way around.”

  “I would be thrilled. How about I do it over Thanksgiving weekend? It’s a long weekend, and if the fumes bother you, Daddy would love to have you there for a night or two.” Nick and Petunia had a nice condominium, but it wasn’t so much space that they could get very far away if there were paint fumes.

  “Yeah. That’s good.”

  Petunia didn’t even notice when they went back inside that all the appetizer dishes had been put in the dishwasher.

  “They want dessert soon,” Nick said.

  With dessert, Cam and Annie had to distribute game roles.

  “Do you know who got top bid?” Cam asked.

  “Yes,” Annie said, but she walked out without elaborating.

  • • •

  • • •

  Reentering the hubbub, Cam wondered if she’d blocked a lot of the tension the last time she was with the group. Waiters were pouring coffee and giving out chocolate mousse or custard, but there seemed to be crackling animosity all around.

  Holden Hobbes spoke from a podium, and she felt sure that should calm most people. He directed them on what to do as they received their game roles, noting unless they had a starred role, it would be best to finish dessert before opening their instructions. Cam cruised the perimeter, distributing envelopes as she went. She listened for arguing, and finally heard muffled yet unhappy-sounding tones.

  Prior to supper, she’d thought people were having fun. Now she could feel the friction in the air. She tried to sense the source and could have sworn it was with the harem, though the supposed sultan was now nowhere in sight. She thought Annie might have given him his role first, as he was one of the top candidates to be murdered.

  Cam could see a lot of people doing what she thought they were supposed to. The trouble was, with so many people rushing off at once, she couldn’t check off the list in her head that this was all legitimate. She wasn’t actually paranoid so much as, for a PR manager, practicing paranoia that had served her well more than once.

  Whatever the case, the dining room started to clear, and Cam, left out of the loop by Annie’s plan, guessed she might be wisest just to follow the noise. She’d just have to see where that took her.

  As she started to move toward the door, a man she didn’t recognize rose, took a microphone, and said he had a treat for everyone in the garden. For want of anything better to do, Cam followed this last exodus.

  The garden was lit with small lanterns, but a spotlight shone on a low stage. It was clear where they were supposed to focus their attention.

  As they waited, Cam spotted her dad on the edges without Vivian. He looked around and then wandered off toward the golf course. She thought the role-play instructions were being followed. A few others were trickling off, some alone, others in pairs or even small groups.

  Evangeline Patrick, beautiful, and much younger than her blueblooded husband, sauntered out with the hair and sequined dress of a 1920s mob moll. She played to the audience beautifully as she slinked up to the stage. She glided up the few steps, thrust a shapely leg through a slit in her skirt, and began to belt out an impressive rendition of “Big Spender.”

  The audience was enthralled. Cam knew the song was written four decades after the party was meant to be set, but it was suited to the mood of the role play, the high-end classic event, and of course, the fact that it was a fund-raiser.

  When Evangeline had reached the end of the song, right on cue, a loud crash rang out, drowning the last notes, at least for the back of the crowd.

  Cam was confused, momentarily. The game was meant to have a gunshot, but when that followed, she let herself fall behind the players in the role play.

  It didn’t take long for a scream to bring the crowd running.

  Cam followed Jared Koontz.
It seemed the most logical step, since she was charged with the PR for this event and he was the star.

  Halfway up the fairway for the first hole, they reached the crowd.

  “Excuse me. Police,” Jared said as he worked his way through the crowd. He had a pointed nose and prominent chin that, paired with his overacting, Cam thought gave the impression of Dudley Do-Right.

  People parted and gave him room. This was, after all, meant to be his fund-raiser and he’d been highlighted as sheriff.

  “Damn! That’s realistic!” he said before falling back into his role. “Is there a doctor?” he whispered back to Cam.

  Cam shook her head. “I’m sure it’s safe to say he’s dead, sir.”

  He was right about it looking realistic. Derrick Windermere had blood coming from his head and was staring at the trees above him. Cam thought Annie must have found a theater friend to help with makeup.

  “Were there witnesses? Who saw this travesty of justice?”

  Cam thought it was possible he’d watched too much John Wayne, then remembered a favorite uncle who loved John Wayne, and forgave him.

  The strange thing was no one came forward. The crime was meant to have three witnesses, but they were being awfully closed-lipped.

  Cam’s phone buzzed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where are you?” It was Annie.

  “At the murder scene. Where are you?”

  “You are not at the murder scene. Vivian Macy is sprawled here with three witnesses and nobody else.”

  “Vivian Macy is the victim?”

  “By a landslide.”

  Cam squeezed her way through the crowd.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t Derrick Windermere?”

  “Positive! I sorted the roles myself.”

  “Crap!”

  “What?” Annie asked.

  “We have the worst luck! Where are you?”

  “Where are you?” Annie countered.

  “First fairway,” Cam said.

  “Wrong nine—we’re on the other side of the clubhouse.”

  Cam clinched her phone shut. “Turns out we have a second murder!” Cam shouted. “This one seems to have witnesses—maybe they will shed light on all of this. That way!” She pointed.

  She knew for sure the one wouldn’t solve the other, as this one was apparently real, but she had to get everyone away from the scene.

  When she was alone with the real body, she stepped in to check for a pulse. Her stomach clenched. Nothing could be done for Derrick now, so she called Jake. Jake was Annie’s boyfriend, but also a police detective Cam felt she could mostly trust. The last thing they needed was a panic.

  As Cam waited, the sounds from the murder-mystery-solving part of the golf course indicated that the role play seemed to be progressing well. She could hear shouted answers and pleased murmurs when things made sense.

  Finally, Jake arrived with his team to attend to the body of Derrick Windermere.

  “So what happened, Cam?”

  She explained the game, the crash, and the shots and how the rest of the crowd was off pursuing some fictional murder.

  “Well, this man wasn’t shot.” Jake pointed out the dirt and shattered clay around his head. “Looks like he was assaulted by a pot of flowers.”

  “Chrysanthemums,” Cam clarified.

  Cam hadn’t looked very closely at Derrick when she checked his pulse because it had made her nauseous, but where his head lay, off the main trail in the garden, it did indeed look like he’d been attacked by chrysanthemums. He’d just been hit hard enough that there was blood pooling by the side of his head.

  “Killed with something on location. This might not be premeditated,” Jake said, more to himself than to Cam. “Makes that party important,” he said louder. “So were there any witnesses to this crime?”

  “When Jared Koontz—he’s playing sheriff for the game—asked for witnesses, nobody came forward. But I think only fictional witnesses—the people with game cards telling them what to say—would have thought they were supposed to. I have no clue if anybody actually saw it.”

  Jake shook his head. “You really tempted fate out here. Pretending murder? After all the real murder you’ve seen?”

  “Look. You can be all high and mighty if you want. This was Annie’s idea.”

  Cam knew that would shut him up, Annie being his girlfriend and all.

  “Who would hide a murder in a murder game?” she asked. “Isn’t that a bit obvious?”

  “Maybe somebody wanting to camouflage the noise of it?” Jake said, brow raised.

  Cam had to admit he was right. It had been a perfect setup. Even a dead body had been just part of the scenery to most of the witnesses.

  “So who is he?” Jake asked, haltingly calling a truce.

  “His name is Derrick Windermere. He’s a robber baron of sorts. Made a fortune on foreclosures that he renovated and flipped, and then he does some investment stuff.”

  “So probably a well-liked guy, then?”

  Cam actually snorted. Jake resorting to sarcasm was an amusing, if unhelpful, sign.

  “Who around here would know the most about him?”

  “Easy.” Cam grinned. “Joel Jaimeson. He is Mr. Who’s Who. You definitely need to ask him about pretty much everybody.”

  “And you’re setting me up, why?”

  “Not you. Him. I think he’ll be helpful, and I would enjoy seeing him sit through hours of questioning.”

  “You have a mean streak,” Jake said.

  “I most certainly do not! I have a justice streak.”

  He laughed.

  The medical and forensic guys butted in at that point with information Cam was sure she didn’t want to know. She had no need to hear about wounds and blood. At the word “coagulation,” she grimaced.

  “Jake? Can I go now?”

  “Sure. I know how to find you. Wait. Who was first on the scene?”

  “There was a woman’s scream from this direction, but I don’t know who. And I don’t know who showed up after that. It was a crowd before I got here. We all thought it was the game until Annie called me asking where we were.”

  “Seems like the kind of thing someone would admit, anyway,” Jake said. “Thanks, Cam. Can you make sure nobody leaves?”

  Crap. That was the last thing Cam wanted for the evening—an ending that everyone knew was a fiasco. Cam found her way back to the central garden. The mystery wasn’t solved, but the crowd had returned to the clubhouse and seemed to be enjoying a round of collective reasoning with cocktails in hand. Nobody headed toward the exit, so Cam just hoped something might happen to change Jake’s need to interview everyone.

  Vivian Macy stood at the rear, covered in leaves and grinning. It was easy to see she’d been flattered to be murdered.

  There should have been a second victim, though, and Cam couldn’t figure out who he was. She actually stood on a bench to find Annie so she could ask. It took ages. Annie was at the back of the crowd, frantically making call after call. Cam made her way over.

  “Where’s murder victim number two?” she asked.

  Annie looked up, eyes glistening. “Missing.”

  “Missing? What do you mean?”

  “Gone. Poof. Se fue.” She followed the Spanish phrase that meant “it’s gone” with a sniff.

  “Geez, Annie. It’s still fun with just one victim. But there’s something I have to . . .”

  “No. You don’t get it. The second victim was supposed to be my dad!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Cam’s breath caught. This couldn’t be written off as some flake getting a better offer mid-game. This event had been Senator Schulz’s baby, for starters. But there was no way even the worst emergency would cause him to leave without alerting Annie.

  No matter what panic she felt at the apparent murder, Annie’s emergency was personal, and she had to be strong and helpful. She stepped forward and hugged her friend. Annie was short enough to bury herself in Cam’s ch
est, so Cam hugged with one arm, and with the other, she speed-dialed Jake.

  “This is a bigger problem,” she said when he answered.

  “Bigger than dead?”

  Annie’s eyes grew wide as she overheard Jake, but she didn’t interrupt.

  “Yes. Annie’s father has disappeared,” Cam said.

  “Disappeared? Like disappeared?”

  “No call to Annie, no showing up where he was supposed to be. And this was his event.”

  As much of an ass as Jake could sometimes be when banging heads with Cam over a murder investigation, she knew he would put Annie first. He was a good guy—just annoyingly “by the book.”

  When she hung up, she explained to Annie about the body that had been found, then called Rob. Rob’s boss had trumped him on the thousand-dollar media spot representing the Roanoke Tribune. Even Griggs probably wouldn’t have been there without the funded media table so generously paid for by Derrick Windermere, though Cam was sure Derrick had had other motives besides informed citizens. But now that the supper was over, she doubted anybody would even notice if Rob showed up for a little moral support.

  “Cam! Not over already?” Rob said when he answered.

  “No, but we need you. Annie and I need you.”

  “Oh, man. What now?”

  “Just come.”

  “Out the door already.” It was true, too. She heard the obnoxious rumble of his Jeep starting.

  She went back to hugging Annie. “Listen. I know this isn’t ideal, but what if he just . . . tripped and hit his head or something? We should have somebody searching the grounds, right?”

  Annie pulled away. “Oh, geez. I snotted on you. But . . . I guess maybe.”

  Cam went to the headwaiter. She didn’t know whom to call, but he would. She explained her concern that Senator Schulz had been hurt and was out there somewhere.

  “I make some calls, madam. Ten minutes, we have team looking.” Cam couldn’t identify his accent, but it didn’t matter. He was being helpful.

  “Thank you!”

  • • •

  • • •

  When she returned to report to Annie, Jake had arrived. He was on his own. Clearly, the murder took precedence for the police force, but it was good to have a real cop involved.