Free Cooking Up Trouble by Joanne Pence Page A

you’recalled into the living room. Miss Worthington, I’ll start with you.”
    “Me?” Chelsea squeaked the word, her face paler than Moira’s. Following him from the room, she looked like a death row inmate making that final walk.
    Angie was proud of Paavo’s take-charge demeanor. If she’d been wearing a shirt with buttons, she’d have popped them. If murder was afoot, he’d figure it out. Maybe even tonight.
    She could see it now. After grilling them one by one, he’d gather everyone into the drawing room. Then, just like Nero Wolfe, he’d announce the name of the murderer.
    But what made Paavo think there was a murderer? Miss Greer died from her heart condition, didn’t she?
    “He has no right to do this to us!” Bethel Bayman said, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”
    “That would look mighty suspicious, if you ask me.” Angie spoke the words disinterestedly, as if she couldn’t care less what Bethel did.
    Bethel gave her a haughty glare, then with a swish of her robe, sat down again.
    In the drawing room, Chelsea sat on the sofa catty-corner to the chair Paavo took. He faced her, a notebook in his hand.
    “Just relax, Miss Worthington, and answer the questions as best you remember,” he said.
    “Yessir.”
    “When did you last see Finley Tay?”
    “You think he’s dead, don’t you?”
    “Let me ask the questions, Miss Worthington.”
    She pouted and folded her hands. “After dinner Saturday night. I saw him leave for his walk.”
    “Did anyone go with him?”
    “I thought everyone did, Inspector. Everyone but me and Angie. Finley’s nature walks were supposed to be an event.”
    “Did you actually see anyone go with him?”
    “I guess not. I don’t pay too much attention to what other people do sometimes. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s all right, Miss Worthington. Can you tell me when you last saw Miss Greer?”
    “After dinner. She was putting a dried-flower arrangement on the dining room table.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I’m not sure. I don’t pay too much attention to time.”
    “What did you do afterward?”
    “I think I talked to Moira for a while, then maybe Angie. No, not Angie. Reginald was with me in the drawing room, but then he got a headache and I went up to my room to read. Later, I heard Moira scream.”
    “Did anyone else see you in the drawing room?”
    “I’m not sure. I don’t pay too much attention to—”
    “I know. Thank you, Miss Worthington.”
     
    Reginald Vane was the next guest facing Paavo.
    “What did you do after dinner?” Paavo asked.
    “I missed dinner, staying up in my room. A bit later I went to the library for a new book. The only person I saw all evening that I can remember was in the library.”
    “And who was that?”
    “Patsy Jeffers.”
     
    “I never left my wife’s bedside all evening,” Running Spirit told Paavo. “After all, she was feeling poorly. Oh, I did go down to dinner without her. I forgot about that.”
     
    “I was at Martin’s side the whole evening,” Bethel said. “We’re a devoted couple and Martin expects me to be with him.”
     
    “I never left Bethel,” Martin said. “Marriage is, after all, a life sentence.”
     
    “After Miss Greer and I finished cleaning up the kitchen,” Moira said, “I went into the drawing room to spend a few minutes with my guests, then invited everyone to the library at nine o’clock for some herbal tea or soy coffee. It’s a way to sooth the nerves before going to bed. I talked for a long time with the Baymans, I believe.”
     
    Patsy lifted dull eyes to Paavo. “I was alone in my room all evening,” she said. Her hands shook nervously. “I guess that means if I need an alibi I don’t have any.”
     
    “Your turn, Angie,” Paavo said, standing in the doorway of the library.
    “Me? You’ve got to be joking.”
    Bethel snickered.
    Angie marched from the library, nose in the air, and followed Paavo to the living room.
    “You were here, Angie,” he said