“No, no,” Inspector Hershey assured him, waving away his concern. “Sudden deaths are a bit off the usual, you see. When one occurs, it’s not uncommon for the local police to open an investigation... especially if the deceased has a lot of, er, assets, if you will.”
Turning back to Daisy, he asked, “Was your husband experiencing any financial difficulties of which you are aware?”
Daisy looked quickly up at Reginald, her eyes a little wide, then she shook her head. “No. Not Archibald. He was always very wise and always very careful with his money.”
“Of course he was,” Bernard interjected. “How else could he have continued to so brilliantly increase Moorecliff Motors’s success?”
“Of course.” Inspector Hershey cast one last look around the table. “Well, then I think that’s all I need to know.”
“Harold can show you out,” Araminta said as she hastened to console Daisy, who was still weeping.
“I think I need to lie down,” Daisy blubbered.
“Let me help you.” Bernard rushed to her side, and with Reggie on the other, they escorted the new widow from the room.
Araminta, now alone, looked round the dining room, then her gaze came to rest on Archie’s chair. “Oh dear, I’m really going to miss you, Archie.”
Meow!
Araminta looked down to see Arun blinking up at her. “This must be upsetting for you, too, isn’t it?” She scooped him up and held him while Sasha twined around her legs. “Don’t worry. You’ll have your turn.”
Sasha yowled and head-butted Araminta’s shin then trotted to the door.
“You don’t want to be picked up?”
She put Arun down, and he joined Sasha at the door then went back to Araminta to twine around her ankles.
Araminta frowned. “What is it? Are you trying to tell me something?”
Sasha yowled, and Arun immediately went back toward the door then trotted to Araminta again and repeated the action.
“Well,” Araminta said, “I guess you guys want me to follow you.”
Chapter Three
The big oak tree at the back of the kitchen garden seemed to be the cats’ target. It stood tall above the manicured shrubbery, the colorful flowers, and the perfectly clipped lawn. The voluminous canopy of leaves cast deep shade beneath the tree.
To the left of the tree was the garden, in which the cook, Mary, grew her fresh herbs and vegetables. At first, Araminta thought perhaps the cats wanted to sneak in for a bit of basil or a pinch of parsley, but no, the tree seemed to be their destination.
Araminta followed them, trying to understand why they’d brought her out here, but after a minute or so of them pacing back along the edge of the shade from the tree, she began to wonder if they’d only wanted to come out to play.
Allowing them their freedom, she used the time to pull some weeds from the flowers under the tree. Yancy, the gardener, had told her they were one of the few flowers that thrived in the shade, and their delicate white bell-shaped petals made for a perfect ground cover. They had a lovely, sweet fragrance and looked wonderful in shallow vases too. In fact, someone must have been picking them, since she could see some spots where flowers were missing. Most likely Trinity, who always kept the vases in the mansion overflowing with flowers fresh from the extensive gardens, had picked them.
As she marveled at the flowers, Arun and Sasha paced about, meowing and strutting. Now, why had they brought her here?
As she looked up at the tree again, a fuzzy memory from two nights ago bubbled up. Her room faced out onto this garden. She always loved looking out at the branches of the tree, where birds could be seen hopping about. But the other night, when she’d had a bout of insomnia and had decided to gaze out at the stars from her window, she’d seen something more than birds out here. She’d seen Daisy meeting with a mysterious person. She’d actually forgotten about it, as she’d gone back to bed shortly thereafter and slept soundly for hours.
Maybe Sasha and Arun came here because they were trying to remind her of that. She hadn’t been able to make out who Daisy was meeting with because all she’d seen was a figure of a man in shadow, but she knew it wasn’t her nephew or the gardener. Was it possible that Daisy was having an affair? She hoped not because she’d come to like Daisy over the past several years. It was difficult to imagine she might step out on her nephew. Was that what the cats wanted her to think about?
The side door leading to the kitchen opened, and Mary came out. Arms akimbo, she fussed at the cats. She didn’t see Araminta there with them, probably because she was still kneeling on the ground.
“Go on, then. Get out of there! You’re ruining what’s left of the edibles! Don’t either of you dare to take a wee in there. I’ll never get anything to grow after that.” Reaching just inside the kitchen door, she grabbed a broom and swished it around. She would never strike one of Araminta’s pets with the thing, but she wasn’t above threatening them, if that was what it took to shoo them out. “Off with you! Out, I say!”
Araminta’s eyes narrowed as she watched, her mind picking up on something in the cook’s tone. Mary had to shoo the cats out of the garden multiple times a week, but she seemed a tad angrier tonight.
Or she could be upset about Archie’s death, Araminta reminded herself. It must be disturbing for the staff to have this upheaval, and Mary had served the family for decades and was fond of Archie.
Under threat of the broom looming in Mary’s hand, Sasha and Arun streaked to Araminta’s side.
“Oh, my pardon, Ms. Moorecliff. I didn’t realize you were there,” Mary said. She put the broom back inside. “The cats needed a little air, did they?”
Araminta scooped Sasha up and stood while Arun paused to groom himself nearby.
“I think they just wanted to run off some excess energy,” Araminta told her. “Things are more than a bit tense inside.”
Mary nodded. “I’m so sorry about your nephew. Archie has always been nice to us. I—I can’t quite believe he’s died.”
Araminta tried to discern whether what she saw in the woman’s eyes was fear or concern, but it was too dark to be sure, so she gathered the cats to go inside. “Neither can I, Mary. Neither can I.”
On her way through the kitchen, Araminta couldn’t shake the ominous feelings she had about what had happened with her nephew. There was something too neat and orderly about it, and it had happened so fast. Something wasn’t right.
Sasha jumped out of her arms and bolted through the kitchen the minute Araminta stepped inside. Arun followed Sasha, though a bit more slowly, as if he were waiting for Araminta to catch up. She was almost past Archie’s study when she realized the cats had paused. Peering through the barely cracked door, she saw Bernard inside. He was standing behind the desk, facing the credenza. She couldn’t blame him for admiring it. It was a lovely piece with fluted columns on the side and a bookcase on top with a storage section that boasted leaded stained-glass doors.
The minute she pushed open the door, he hastily shoved the glass doors closed and turned around.
He cleared his throat. “Just looking for something to read.”
Araminta squinted at the shelves, which were loaded with rows of books, most of them nonfiction books on business. They were arranged quite artfully, some spine out, some lying on their sides and interspersed with various knickknacks.