“Hello, Aunt Minty. How are you holding up? I hope Father’s death hasn’t been too upsetting for you.” Her gaze flicked to Araminta’s bold outfit. “I see your fashion sense is still the same.”
Araminta blinked back a tear then hurriedly replaced her moment of sadness with a genuine smile of welcome for her niece. “Oh, we are all quite devastated, darling, me included. But come, do you have a hug for your aunt left in those arms? I can’t begin to express how much we’ve missed you, dear.”
Stephanie had left Moorecliff Manor five years ago, shortly after Archibald had married Daisy. She had been young and full of belligerence as well as terribly missing her deceased mother. From time to time, she had come home again, mostly at her father’s insistence. Archie had been convinced that if she would give Daisy a chance, the two of them would love each other.
Not Stephanie. She simply saw Daisy as a usurper who’d married her father only because she wanted the Moorecliff money. A gold digger, she’d said to Reginald many a time. When Archie had overheard these conversations, he’d nipped them in the bud, taking Daisy’s side. Soon after, Stephanie always found a reason to leave the manor, and her visits home had been infrequent.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Stephanie turned and collected a couple of the bags from where Harold had left them near the door on an antique table. “I hope you won’t mind, but I wasn’t sure if I would be here in time for lunch.” She shrugged slightly and continued, “I’m sure no one feels much like eating, but I stopped by Gianno’s on the way in.”
Her gaze reluctantly flickered to her stepmother, who was clearly distraught, and she made one tiny concession. “There’s enough for everybody.”
Chapter Eleven
After sharing the lunch Stephanie had brought with the rest of the family, Araminta followed her upstairs to the room that was her usual when she was in residence at the manor to help her unpack.
This room reminded Araminta of springtime. It was done up in whites, pastel blues, and pinks and had a bit of mint green as an accent color. Since it was on the same side of the house as her own suite of rooms, it also looked down into the garden.
The heavy drapes were open, and light spilled in from outside, lighting the gilding on the antique hand-crafted furniture, but Stephanie seemed not to notice. Instead, she plopped her heavy bag alongside her handbag on the pleated mint-green coverlet spread across the full-sized four-post bed.
Sasha and Arun were so happy to see her again that they zipped into the room soon after and hopped onto the bed. Arun nudged Stephanie’s luggage as if trying to turn the bag over, while Sasha poked her head into and sniffed at Stephanie’s posh designer handbag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Stephanie gathered Sasha for some loving.
“I still cannot believe he’s gone, Aunt Minta, and Reggie said something about evidence pointing to Harold. I can’t believe that’s true,” Stephanie said a moment later, her voice heavy with unshed tears.
Araminta found it troubling as well. It was too much like one of those old mystery novels she used to devour in her youth, in which the butler was always found to have committed the murder, no matter who else had motive. “I agree it makes no sense. I’ve tried to make sense of it all but have not as yet been able to put two and two together.”
Stephanie gave her a grateful look, but Araminta could see deep sadness in her eyes. “We all miss your father very much, Stephanie, dear, but probably none so much as poor Daisy.”
Stephanie abruptly put Sasha down on the coverlet and stood. Avoiding Araminta’s gaze entirely, she darted her eyes around the room as though she were searching for something. Her gaze landed at least once per turn on everything, yet it seemed she saw nothing.
Araminta recognized the tactic as a sign that Stephanie was upset about something… something to do with her father’s death, but she didn’t ask what. Instead, she waited for her niece to say whatever was on her mind. After this many years, she knew Stephanie well enough to know the answer would soon be forthcoming.
“If you ask me, the detective should be looking more closely at Daisy,” Stephanie said finally. “After all, Father gave her everything, but she was never satisfied. She always wanted more. She would inherit a lot of money. Who would have more motive than her?”
Araminta looked at her niece for a moment, feeling puzzled. Daisy had never struck her as the gold-digging sort. Nor had she mentioned in their brief chat on the subject anything about either of the children being aware of what was in their father’s will, but perhaps Stephanie knew as much about what was in it as it seemed Reginald had. “Why would you say such a thing, my dear? Of course your father doted on Daisy. He did love her, after all, and such attentiveness was to be expected. And I never saw her asking for more. In fact, she’s quite generous and never asks for a thing.”
Stephanie pressed her lips together as if trying to think up examples of how Daisy had wanted more, but she couldn’t. Araminta suspected that Stephanie wasn’t seeing things quite the way they really were. She was so invested in thinking that Daisy had bad intentions that she couldn’t see the good side of her.
After a moment, Stephanie shrugged and went to open the closet so that she could put her clothes inside. “Is it attentiveness, then, to train one’s second wife to take over the family business?”
Araminta considered the point. What was Stephanie getting at? That Daisy’s plan all along had been to take the helm at Moorecliff Motors? She waited while Stephanie unzipped her bag then said gently, “Perhaps he trusted her. And she’s quite smart, you know. It’s also clear to any who dared look that Daisy loved your father too. She was interested in the company because he was interested, dear. She wanted to be able to understand him. Moorecliff Motors has been such a big part of all our lives throughout the years.”
Araminta reached for one of Stephanie’s jackets then took it to the closet and hung it inside. “Besides, I find it difficult to believe your stepmother could have done such an evil thing as poison him, especially with all the family right there looking on.”
Unconvinced, Stephanie took a stack of clothes from her suitcase, which now lay open on the bed, and walked to the closet, where she pushed them inside. She reached for a hanger and slid a shirt onto it then another for pants and another for the matching jacket, then she began hanging them in place.
“Perhaps you’ve let your desire to see the best in everyone cloud your once-formidable judgment, Aunt Minta. Time has a way of dulling one’s senses. You should think about Daisy a bit more, because no one is as good as you seem to believe she is. I’m almost positive it was her who killed Father. Right, Arun?” she asked, reaching down to lift the cat, who’d been circling her ankles in hopes of some cuddling.
Araminta started to respond to her accusation, but given the bitterness she heard in her niece’s voice, she decided better of it. Maybe she was letting her fondness for Daisy get in the way of her ability to see an aptitude in her for committing a crime most heinous. Perhaps, Araminta thought, though she truly couldn’t make herself believe it. Still, something about Archie’s death didn’t sit quite right. But she still couldn’t imagine Daisy as his killer, given everything she knew of those two.