Free 5 Murder by Syllabub by Kathleen Delaney Page A

stepson? He used to live here?” Aunt Mary looked from Cora Lee to Elizabeth.
    “All the time he was in high school and during all the holidays while he went to college. He was a disgusting teenager and didn’t improve with age. Happiest day of my life was when I picked up that key.” Cora Lee beamed.
    Aunt Mary looked stunned. Evidently, Elizabeth had never mentioned a stepson. I wondered if she’d mentioned a wife. That Elizabeth and William lived together without benefit of wedlock she’d known for years and accepted without batting an eyelash. But that William still had a wife in the background? She glanced over at Elizabeth.
    Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on her wineglass. “I guess I should have told you. It just, somehow, never came up.”
    It never came up? Aunt Mary’s face showed she was having trouble with that one. It was, of course, none of her business. If Elizabeth chose not to mention them, well, she didn’t have to. But I also could tell Aunt Mary was hurt. Elizabeth never did anything in a conventional way. Aunt Mary expected that. Living with William in one state while his wife and stepchild resided in his ancestral home in another wouldn’t have surprised her. She would have worried about it, but she would never have thought less of Elizabeth or even questioned her about it, I was sure. All this did answer one question, however. We now knew who Monty was. Now for the other questions …
    “Okay, Monty lived here, grew up here and at one time had a key. If he wasn’t supposed to be here now, and didn’t have a new key, how was he getting in and out? Why was he here?” I paused, waiting for someone to comment, add something, guess. No one said a thing. “Who would want Monty dead, and why was he killed here, in the old Smithwood mansion, on your dining room rug?”
    Everyone was silent, even Cora Lee.

 
    Chapter Six
    I was awake. I didn’t want to be. Every nerve in my body told me I was tired, to go back to sleep, but I needed to use the bathroom. I opened my eyes halfway then snapped them wide open. There was a plaid ceiling over my bed I’d never seen before. I moved my arm, looking for Dan. He’d explain why, only he wasn’t there. I lay still for a moment, trying not to panic, to remember where I was. My eyes moved without moving my head, which seemed a good idea. My head didn’t feel like moving. Plaid curtains. No, green and cream plaid bed hangings. I was in a poster bed, the hangings held back with cream velvet tassels, the canopy draped down over the sides of the fabric top. How had I gotten here and where was Dan?
    Of course. I took a deep breath and my hands relaxed their tight grip on the sheet. I was in Elizabeth’s guest room. One of her guest rooms. Aunt Mary was next door. I let out the air I hadn’t realized I held in, pushed back the matching plaid quilt and slid out from under the cream eyelet trimmed sheets. I needed the bathroom, now.
    My slippers were beside the bed, my robe draped over the end of it. Had I left them there? It didn’t seem likely. I didn’t do that at home when I was at my best. I hadn’t been at my best last night. The overwhelmingly horrible memory of the murder scene came rushing back and erased any recollection of doing small, mundane things like unpacking a robe or setting out slippers. Slipping into both, I headed toward the half-opened door on the wall opposite the bed. I sank down on the white porcelain toilet with relief and looked around.
    My small sundries case sat on a glass shelf above a freestanding sink. I’d been more efficient than I thought. It had been very late when we were finally allowed to go to bed. Noah told us it would be a long night and advised us to switch to coffee after our first glass of wine. Somehow the anxiety of having a murder investigation in full swing and the increasingly pointed questions Lt. McMann addressed to both Elizabeth and Cora Lee made dinner an unrealized goal. He’d finished off the coffee,