“That may be true, Alicia. But you did have access to the carriage house key and the knife,” Pete said. “You can’t dispute that.”
“Just like all of you. It’s not like we locked up those things. I was in and out of the kitchen enough times earlier in the evening to allow anyone to grab both of them without my knowledge.” Alicia tightened her lips and fixed her stare on the Sandberg sisters. “And if you recall, Ophelia, you saw me in the kitchen about the time that the murder supposedly happened.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, how could I forget?” A blush suffused Ophelia’s cheeks. “When Bernie and I were inside Chapters, looking for my glasses, I saw Alicia at the sink, rinsing out a stain on her apron.”
“One of those sauces from the dinner party,” Alicia said. “It dripped on my apron when I was clearing the dishes, I guess. I wanted to rinse it out before it set.”
That explains the missing apron.“Which would make the timing difficult for you. To be the murderer, I mean.” I spoke slowly as my mind raced, chasing thoughts of whom this left on the suspect list.
“Impossible, I’d say. Not that there was any reason to suspect me anyway,” Alicia asserted, without looking at me.
There was one compelling motive, but I thought better of dragging my great-aunt’s past into the discussion. Especially now that it looked like it had not been the reason for Lincoln Delamont’s death.
Although I believe something from the past must figure into it, I thought, turning my head at the sound of footsteps in the hall.
“Hello, everyone. Sorry to be so late,” Kelly said as she entered the library. She fluttered one hand in greeting. “Todd got caught on a phone call, but he’ll be along in a few minutes.”
As everyone focused on Kelly, I realized we were all probably thinking the same thing—she’d been the only other female atthe costume party. The only one without an alibi.Or at least, I thought,the only woman who hasn’t shared one yet.
Kelly, gripping her purple quilted purse close to her body, shifted from one Greek sandal-clad foot to the other. “I hope we didn’t miss anything important.”
“Just playing a little game of amateur detective,” Julie said, her eyes narrowing. “Care to join?”
Chapter Thirty
In her short, finely pleated, lilac cotton sundress, with her braided golden hair pulled back and twisted into an elegant bun, Kelly looked like some Grecian statue come to life. She lifted a well-toned, tanned arm and used one finger to delicately dash a bead of sweat from her upper lip.
“Of course. Isn’t that the point of this evening?”
“Well, the original plan has devolved into something a little different,” Scott said, rising to his feet to offer Kelly his chair.
“Really? And please, Mr. Kepler, sit down. There’s an extra couple of chairs off to the side there, next to the lady I met the other evening.” Kelly arched her golden brows. “Ms. Montgomery, I think it is?”
“Yes, Charlotte’s next-door neighbor,” Ellen said.
“That’s right, we met at the Thursday night cocktail party. We didn’t get a chance to really talk then, though,” Kelly said. “What are we discussing—more thoughts on Tey’s books?”
“No, our very own murder mystery,” Ophelia said. “The death of the unfortunate Mr. Delamont.”
“Really? That sounds a little macabre.” Kelly shot me a questioning look as she sat down.
Bernadette jumped in before I could say anything. “Actually, we were comparing alibis just before you arrived. But we hadn’t quite gotten around to our personal theories on who the murderer might be. Perhaps you’d like to start there, Ms. Rowley?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know.” Kelly crossed her bare legs, hiking her dress up higher on her thighs. “I’m not sure my thoughts would shed much light on the situation.”
Julie stood, shaking out one foot as if it had gone to sleep. “I’m sure your theories are as reasonable as any others I’ve heard.” She crossed over to one of the lower library shelves and picked up a stack of paperbacks. “I did find you some books, by the way. If you still want them.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” As Kelly reached into her purse, something glinted. “Darn, it seems I forgot my checkbook, but I’m happy to send you a check before we leave Beaufort. I’m good for it, I promise,” she added, with a bright smile.
Ellen stirred in her chair. “So, Mrs. Rowley, I’m curious, do you actually have any theories on who killed Lincoln Delamont?”
“Not really. At first, I thought it was probably some stranger. I mean, someone not part of our group. Someone who had a beef with Mr. Delamont and tracked him here.” She shrugged. “Maybe they confronted and killed him during an argument, then fled the scene.”
“But you don’t think that now?” Scott, who hadn’t reclaimed his seat, paced across one end of the library.
“No, because … Well, just some things I picked up when the police were questioning me made me think it might be someoneelse.” Kelly bit her lower lip and looked at the other guests, her gaze darting from face to face. “Someone in this room.”
“But everyone in this room has an alibi,” Bernadette said, her voice hardening. “What’s yours?”
