Murder Takes the High Road(73)

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Nedda said. “We could use a cop right about now.”

“Oh.” I unbent a little. “Right.”

She looked faintly amused. “John didn’t have any part in this. He barely knew who Vanessa was when he joined the tour. This isn’t a random crime. And it wasn’t an impulse.”

“No. It was premeditated. Someone had to bring the drug and the hypodermic needle with them.”

“Exactly. Everyone but John booked the tour nearly two years ago. Someone has been waiting a long time for this.”

“It doesn’t have to be someone on the tour,” I said. “It sounded to me like when Vanessa bought this island, she forced nearly everyone already living here out. That could have caused some hard feelings.”

“That was how many years ago? Why would someone wait so long for revenge?”

“Maybe it’s not about revenge,” I said. “It could be murder for gain. This island must be worth a fortune. Vanessa’s literary estate must be worth a fortune.”

Nedda shook her head. “I don’t think so. Alison told me the island was on the market for years before Vanessa purchased it.”

“Okay. That still leaves her personal wealth. Her literary estate. Book royalties, film royalties. All those translations. That’s got to be some pretty significant earnings. Who inherits?”

“She’s left everything to charity.”

I stared at Nedda. “How do you know that?”

“I read about her charity work years ago, and Elizabeth confirmed it. Vanessa is a major contributor to a charity devoted to rehabilitating violent youthful offenders. According to her will, this island and everything else goes to that organization.”

“Then it’s got to be something in her past,” I said.

Of course, the most obvious thing in Vanessa’s past was the incident that had made her infamous.

Nedda confirmed my thoughts. “Donald Kresley. That’s what Wally thinks too. I’m not so sure. Not this late after the fact. Vanessa lived a long life and I’m guessing made more than a few enemies along the way. There could be a motive for killing her that would never occur to us.”

She had a point. Vanessa had spent almost thirty years as a free woman after getting out of prison. If someone wanted revenge for the murder of Donald Kresley, why wait decades? Why allow Vanessa to live out her life getting richer and more famous? That was a pretty lackadaisical approach to vengeance.

I said, “I think you were right to hide the fact you believe Vanessa’s death was murder.”

Nedda grimaced. “For all the good it did. Everyone in the group believes she was murdered. What scares me is if the killer is someone in our group, to have committed such a crime indicates a seriously deranged psyche. To have taken such a risk...” She shook her head.

I understood her worry. To have acted so boldly, meant someone was either desperate or crazy. And having succeeded once, anyone that bold might be willing to strike again, particularly if they feared their own safety was in jeopardy.

I said, “Well, the fact that our crew is already running with the idea takes the heat off you. Besides, anyone who reads Vanessa knows all about forensic evidence. They’re going to know that shutting you up wouldn’t change the results of the autopsy.”

“If the drug’s not in her body, the autopsy won’t tell them much. And I can hear the defense already arguing that the injection mark was a mosquito bite.”

I grinned. “I see. So, I’m your insurance policy?”

“Yep.” Nedda smiled too, faintly. “You’re smart and sensible and, other than the fact that you’ve got men panting after you, seem pretty good at avoiding drama.”

I felt myself turning red. “Not really,” I said uncomfortably. “This is the first time—”

“Really,” she said firmly. “Three men on this trip were falling over themselves to get to you. It was embarrassing to watch. Anyway, my point is people talk to you. I think if we keep our eyes and ears open...”

She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. I believed everything Nedda said. Well, not about men panting after me. The sudden jump in my IT factor was confusing—not to mention a fluke. But Nedda was worried and uneasy, absolutely, and she thought it was a good idea to share her suspicions with someone not personally connected to her. Also, Nedda was, like me, a mystery fan, and she just couldn’t help thinking like an amateur sleuth.

“Okay,” I said. “Eyes and ears open. But, Nedda? No snooping. No asking questions or raising hypotheticals. You’re already on someone’s radar. Don’t give them any reason to worry about you.”

“No, of course not. Wally said the same thing.”

“Wally’s right. Anyway, the rest of them will ask all the questions without any prompting from us. We just need to listen to the answers.”

“True.” She sighed. “Right. Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

I saw her to the door and watched her down the shadowy hall to her own room. She knocked and Wally practically snatched her inside.

I locked my door and returned to lying on my bed, staring up at the beady-eyed raven.

I can’t say my thoughts were particularly incisive. I was still worried about John. I was alarmed by Nedda’s news. She was right, of course. Vanessa had lived a long and controversial life. There might be any number of people who believed they had cause to dislike, even hate her. There was a reason that even on this tiny, remote Scottish island she had installed double deadbolts on her fortress-like bedroom door.