Fergus coughed softly. “Beg pardon, ma’am?”
Beth sighed and turned to Judith. “We may as well go as soon as those two idiots are out of here.”
“Why were they fighting?” Judith asked.
Beth grimaced. “Business? Moira?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Phil and I’ve been out of the country. Moira and Marie and I email each other when we’re not here, but it’s usually girl talk—mainly about Moira’s baby, which, frankly, gets boring since Marie and I don’t have children yet. Damn, why doesn’t Seamus move that car?”
“Why has Morton been in Greece?” Judith asked.
“His health,” replied Beth. “Or so he claimed. He needed better weather. But Will told Marie that Jocko was healthy as a horse, and his leave of absence was to avoid some business problems.”
Judith recalled the get-together at the cottage by the sea but wondered how much she should reveal. “I got the impression that these Blackwell executives were fairly tight.”
Beth stared at her. “You did? Don’t believe it. The one thing they agreed on lately is that the pup, Harry, was a huge pain in the arse.”
At last Seumas started the Jag and drove out through the open gates at an accelerated speed.
“Maybe,” Beth said, “he’ll get both of them killed.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t say that, not after what happened to Davey.”
Driving away from Hollywood House, Judith posed a question. “Was Davey’s accident around here?”
Beth nodded. “Up ahead there’s a turnoff to the coast road. About a kilometer east is a wicked curve where it happened. Davey liked speed. He had a reckless side, but the official ruling was faulty brakes.”
“Wasn’t it a new car?”
Beth nodded. “A Lamborghini Diablo. Aptly named, it seems. It crashed onto the rocks below, and was horribly mangled. Of course Davey was…” She grimaced. “Moira was too ill to attend the funeral.”
The Daimler sped past the turnoff to St. Fergna. “Did I say that when I met Moira she was putting flowers on his grave?” Judith asked.
“Oh?” Beth smiled faintly. “Moira was very fond of Davey. She relied increasingly on him.”
“For business decisions,” Judith asked, “or…emotionally?”
Beth sighed. “Both, I suppose. Moira and Harry were already having problems. After they married, Harry turned into a completely different person. Marie and I felt as if he’d been putting on an act all the time they were going together. He was incredibly rude to Moira even in public. God only knows how badly he behaved in private. It’s a wonder she didn’t…” Beth stopped speaking as her cheeks turned pink.
“Kill him?” Judith finished for her.
Beth slowed down to take a sharp curve. “You know I don’t mean that literally.”
“Of course not.” But Judith knew from previous experience that the spouse was always the prime suspect when it came to murder.
14
The house Kate Gunn had confiscated from her late husband’s mistress was a modern, curving structure of glass and stucco set high above the sands. The landscaping looked almost tropical, with tall fronds, exotic grasses, and even a couple of palm trees.
“California style?” Judith said in surprise.
Beth laughed. “You’d be surprised—parts of this area have a very mild climate, due to the land formation and the ocean currents.”
Judith nodded. “We have a place like that in our own state on the Northwest Coast. It’s called the Sun Belt.”
“Exactly,” Beth agreed. She paused at the foot of a winding stone stairway. “Let’s hear the latest news from Mummy’s astrologer.”
The double doors were made of beveled glass decorated with intersecting mahogany arcs. Judith and Beth were greeted by a middle-aged woman wearing what Judith thought was a very bad red wig.
“Come in, Miss Beth,” she said with a deferential nod. “Mrs. Gunn has a guest in the sunroom, but I’ll tell her you’re here with…?” She looked questioningly at Judith.
“Hello, Una. This is Mrs. Flynn,” Beth said. “Who is Mummy entertaining? It can’t be the Wizard of Oz.”
“Now, now, Miss Beth,” Una said, though her blue eyes twinkled, “you mustn’t be unkind about Master Ross Wass. He’s a great comfort to your mother. In any case, he won’t be here until evening.”
Upon entering the sunroom, Judith felt as if she were walking into a jungle. Hibiscus, aphelandra, anthurium, dieffenbachia, philodendron, various ferns, and even orchids were everywhere, some growing from floor to ceiling. The east wall was all glass, and the high humidity as well as the temperature hit Judith like a blast of steam. There was so much foliage, in fact, that Judith couldn’t see any sign of Mrs. Gunn.
“Sorry about the heat,” Beth murmured after Una had shown them in and departed. “Mummy’s somewhere in here, probably between the frangipani and the Venus flytraps.”
“Mummy” was sitting in a white wicker armchair. Her guest apparently was seated across from her, but was concealed from Judith’s sight by the chair’s high back.
“Beth!” Kate Gunn exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were coming. How nice. Do sit.” She peered at Judith. “Is that Mrs….?”
“Flynn,” said a voice coming from the other chair. “Hi, coz.” Renie grinned between the glossy leaves of a fiddle-leafed fig. “Kate and I are being all matey. Sit. You’ll lose a pound a minute in this humidity.”
Kate Gunn laughed. “Oh, Serena, you’re such a tease!” She paused while Judith and Beth sat down on a love seat that matched the other chairs. “I had no idea,” she said to Judith, “that your cousin has special powers.”
“Ah…” Judith was tempted to say, “Neither did I,” but suddenly recalled Renie’s pretense at reading fireplace ashes a few months earlier in an attempt to elicit information from a murder suspect. “She’s a sight, all right. I mean,” Judith amended, “she has the sight.”
Renie shrugged and made an attempt to look modest. “I couldn’t help myself. I felt compelled to study the ashes in the grate at Grimloch and I saw that Kate was in trouble. I had Gibbs bring me over here on his motorcycle. Sure enough, Kate was in peril.”
“Oh,” Kate Gunn said, “it was incredible! Una, my housekeeper, had gone to the market and I was all alone. I looked outside about an hour ago, expecting Una to be back shortly, and I saw a witch! She was bent over my herb garden, sprinkling something on the coriander and dill. I pounded on the window, but she cackled and rushed off. Serena showed up not five minutes later. Imagine!”
Judith could imagine, though she wondered where her cousin had gotten the witch’s costume. “How fortuitous,” she murmured.
“A witch?” Beth sounded skeptical. “Did you call the police?”
Mrs. Gunn frowned at her daughter. “Of course not! They never believe me. You know how they’ve acted in the past when I’ve had to summon them. They think I’m fanciful or just a nuisance.”
Beth smiled wryly. “Well, you have had some odd complaints.”
Mrs. Gunn looked indignant. “Nonsense! The midge attacks were frightful last summer. I wanted the police to spray those pesky insects before they clogged up my ears and nose. As for the deer that ate my plants, I had to threaten to poison them before the police would do anything. Not to mention the car that destroyed my nephrolepis fern—and on the feast day of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, God’s Little Flower! Too ironic! That driver should have been arrested for recklessness. If I’d been a heavy sleeper, I’d never have heard the impact and discovered how my poor fern got run over. I’d nurtured it from a small cutting.” Her face softened as she looked at Renie. “As for Serena, we’ve made amends. She said that it was at our awkward meeting in the woolen shop where she sensed my aura and later realized I was in danger.”