“We heard you had a history . . .”
Isabel made a hissing noise that sounded like an irritated cat. “That’s an understatement—but before you jump to any conclusions, Clarissa plowed through her life leaving decimation in her wake. It would be harder to find someone who didn’t want to kill her.”
“We’ve heard that as well,” Mac said. “So, last night?”
She sat up straight and clasped her hands on the table. “I went to my room with a headache just after dinner started. I wanted to be sure everyone was settled and then I went to take some medicine and lie down for a few minutes.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “The next thing I knew, I woke up and the lights were out in my room. I felt a bit disoriented, but was sure I’d left the lights on after I took the medicine and lay down.”
“What time was it when you woke up?” Mac asked.
“I don’t know.” She pointed to her wrist. “It was so dark I couldn’t make out the hands on my watch. But I went out into the hall and sort of stumbled along until I found the stairs. I heard voices coming from the lounge and saw lights at the end of the hallway, so I went there.” She shrugged. “It must have been just after everyone had arrived, because Wally was explaining that the power would be back on soon. I waited with everyone else until Jessica entered with the candles and then we heard Linda screaming and went upstairs to see what was wrong.”
“Did you see anyone in the hallway on your way to your room?” I asked.
She thought for a moment and then slowly shook her head. She didn’t look at either of us. “I don’t think so. Only the maid. She was finishing in my room just as I arrived.”
“Did you see where she went after your room?” Mac asked.
Isabel shook her head and her earrings swung gently. “I was so focused on getting to my medicine, I didn’t pay any attention.”
Mac thanked her and she walked to the group of workshoppers that had gathered by the door.
Isabel led the knitters into the lounge where the fire was lit, and we stopped Mavis on her way out of the dining room.
Mac explained what we needed and her face lit up.
“Oh, I’d be honored to help you, Detective McKenzie. Your mother has told us all about you.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “That sweater looks wonderful on you.” She tugged on a loose string. “Maybe I’ll finish it this weekend and you can keep it.”
Mac gave her a tight smile and gestured toward the table. We sat and Mavis gazed at Mac while producing tiny scissors to snip the loose strings. I worried she planned to finish the sweater with Mac still in it. He cast a pleading glance in my direction.
“I noticed that you went into the kitchen during dinner last night,” I said.
Mavis tore her gaze from Mac to look at me. She nodded. “Yes, I went to find that handsome chef fellow. His food was just divine and I wanted to compliment him and find out what else was on the menu for the weekend.”
Mavis rummaged in her voluminous purse and pulled out a large sewing needle. She began weaving the loose ends into the sweater. “But I couldn’t find him. His assistant was there, looking rather sullen at having to do all the desserts on his own. I went through the back door of the kitchen to see if the chef was there, but still didn’t find him. Then I remembered my blood pressure medication and went up to my room to get it. I had just come back into the dining room when the lights went out.”
“Did you see anyone on your way to your room?”
“No.” Mavis slowly shook her head. “I didn’t see a soul. But I thought I heard someone in Violet’s room. I’m right between Violet and Lucille.”
Mac and I looked at each other and I raised an eyebrow. Who would have been in that room?
“What, exactly, did you hear?” I said.
“Just a couple of thumps. I guess it could have been anything—even that white cat that keeps jumping out at people.”
Mavis’s mouth pulled downward into a frown. “I can’t say I liked Clarissa at all. We had a bit of . . . history, but it always makes me very sad when a young life is wasted.” She dabbed at a tear in the corner of her eye. Before I had a chance to react to what she had said, she spotted another loose string and went after it. Mac held up his hand to stop her.
“Okay, thank you,” Mac said. “We appreciate your help. Let us know if you think of anything else.” He stood up and backed away from her.
I thought it was one of his fastest interviews on record and suspected he regretted accepting her offer of a warm sweater.
“I wish I could have been more helpful,” Mavis said. She lunged for another string, but I stepped between them and walked her to the door.
11