Jessica took a deep breath and looked at us.
“Clarissa was not a nice person,” she began. “Frankly, I couldn’t stand her. She spent most of our childhood trying to one-up me and criticized everything I did. By the time we got to high school, she was the classic mean girl with a posse of supporters.”
Jessica closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Isabel and I were good friends in high school. That’s why she has this workshop every year here. At first, we were doing her a favor, but now that she’s famous through her blog and her designs, she actually brings us business throughout the year.” She looked at the tablecloth and traced the pattern in the fabric. “She’s still one of my closest friends. She knew that Clarissa was back in town and we talked about canceling the workshop. Isabel and Clarissa never got along.”
She looked up to meet our eyes. “But Isabel isn’t a killer. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. And she’s a successful businesswoman now. There is nothing Clarissa could do to hurt her.” Her voice broke on the last words and her eyes filled with tears.
She took a shaky breath and continued. “Truly, if Isabel was going to kill Clarissa, she would have done it years ago. She said to me just before she came that the best revenge is to lead a happy life. There’s no way she would throw it all away over an old grudge.”
Mac leaned forward.
“What old grudge?” he asked. “What happened between them?”
Jessica shook her head. “She’ll tell you if you ask. She doesn’t have anything to hide, but she’s my friend and I’m not going to share her story with you.”
“Is it about Mavis’s daughter, Teresa?” I asked.
Jessica drew in a quick breath. “How do you know about that?”
I shrugged. “People talk.”
Jessica sat back and crossed her arms. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
I looked at Mac, wondering how he would handle this. In his normal life, he probably wouldn’t let Jessica slide. But this was an unusual situation. He only had the authority that he had given himself. We expected to be able to get the police involved shortly, and no one was leaving the hotel anytime soon.
I saw the struggle pass quickly over his face and then he relaxed.
I let out a breath of air and sat back in my chair.
“Okay, Ms. Garrett. We’ll talk to Isabel,” Mac said. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”
Jessica shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
13
I wanted to talk to Mac about his impression of Jessica’s story, but we still needed to talk to Linda. I couldn’t tell whether Jessica was trying to protect Isabel or make sure we focused on her.
We asked Jessica to help us find her mother. She led the way through the dining room and up the stairs to a back hallway that had not been part of Wally’s tour. It was dark without the wall sconces, and the weak light filtering in from the windows in the guest hallway barely penetrated. I was wishing they were real torches when she opened another door and brightness spilled out.
Jessica had led us into the family quarters, which were small but comfortable and had a beautiful view over the back garden, where the winter white blinded us. It would be a lovely room in the summer when the flowers were in full bloom. The walls were a soft sage color and the neutral couches and chairs were the perfect backdrop for the brightly colored knit pillows and throws. Obviously knitters lived there. On that day, it looked out onto a wonderland of snow-covered trees and a rolling white lawn that ended in a wooded area at the back of the property.
Several doors led off of this common room and Jessica tapped lightly on one of them.
“Mom? Can I come in? The detectives are here and want to talk to you.”
It felt strange to be called a detective again. Like putting on old clothes that had gone out of style and didn’t fit anymore.
Jessica must have heard a reply because she opened the door and Mrs. Garrett stepped out. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. She shuffled into the living room wearing slippers, jeans, and pulling an oversized cardigan more tightly around her shoulders.
Jessica gestured to the small couch and chairs and we all sat.
“I can’t thank you enough, Detective McKenzie, for helping us like this,” Mrs. Garrett said. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stopped here yesterday. We wouldn’t have known what to do.”
I wasn’t surprised that she had singled out Mac. It was a constant battle to be taken seriously as a woman in a “man’s” job. I bristled reflexively. Then I reminded myself that I wasn’t planning to return to the police force and that this sort of thing would not be my job anymore.
“No need for thanks, we’re just doing our job,” Mac said, and put a hand on my shoulder.