Chapter 11. A Royal Mess
Jacquetta plopped a box of books on an empty barstool and sat down heavily on the one beside.
“Sherry” she requested. “Since that’s what I’m drinking these days.” Luckily the pub was fairly empty at this hour.
The beautiful barmaid – it was her own roommate Honey – widened her eyes as she wiped the lacquered finish.
“Have you been dumpster diving again?” she demanded.
“This is a third of my legacy, I’ll have you know,” said Jacquetta. “Plus, there’s money.”
“Money!” Honey gasped like a child sighting Santa Claus.
“The family had the exact same reaction,” teased Jacquetta.
Honey smacked a double of dry sherry on the bar, and poured one for herself.
“There goes that vow of poverty,” she quipped. “Tell all.”
And she dropped her head into her hands, propped herself up on her elbows and listened wide-eyed as Jacquetta spun her tale.
“Well, these are not nice people. They were having a brawl when I left – complete with broken glass.”
“Who? Not George Cleese!” Honey was satisfyingly bug-eyed.
“He was there. But more likely it was the heirs. Miss Rainbeaux took care to insult each one of them in the will. She didn’t say anything about George.”
“That Cleese is a secretive slimeball. You wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley! What did the will say?”
“She told George’s wife not to hold a yard sale, she said her nephew Ivor the lawyer was probably getting disbarred, and she asked the other nephew Chester to stop hiring people using his libido.”
“Wow! Disinherit anybody?”
“Not the family. She disinherited the chauffeur and the Jane Pride Home, whoever they are.”
“That’s an old age home. You mean she insulted her family while giving them cash?”
“It looks that way.” Jacquetta put a hand over her drink refusing seconds. “Coffee please. And maybe food. I’m starting to feel woozy.”
“Don’t wooze in here. I’ll get you a chef salad.”
She was as good as her word.
“If that doesn’t beat all,” Honey shook her head while pouring coffee, “Lectures them but goes on rewarding them! Anyone could have told her THAT wouldn’t work. And all you get is a box of dusty books.”
“And six thousand bucks. She took it from the old folks.”
Honey shook her head wonderingly. “What is the MATTER with people?”
“Insensitivity,” Jacquetta offered. “They can’t imagine other people’s lives, so they don’t.”
While Honey wandered away to build up a destroyed-looking businessman, Jacquetta tucked into her salad.
“I’m expecting a big tip,” said Honey, returning.
“Forget it. First there’s probate, expected to take forever. Second, I’ll probably give it to the old people. It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how difficult and time consuming it is figuring out what Miss Rainbeaux was trying to tell me.”
“Why should you care? Is it the “God’s purpose” thing again? Miss Rainbeaux sounds like a thoroughly nasty old bird to me.”
“She really wasn’t. And – well – they’re trying to tell everyone it was suicide!”
“Suicide?”
“Exactly. I’ll never believe it. She was totally not the type.”
“You just can’t believe anyone would commit suicide to get out of lunch with you.”
“Har har. Is there dessert?”
“Lemon meringue pie. And there might be some doughnuts left in the break room.”
“Forget it.” Jacquetta pulled out her wallet. Honey forestalled her.
“You know your money’s no good here. So, if probate takes forever, what are you doing with those books?”
“That’s a really good question,” said Jacquetta thoughtfully. “The executor – Neil Dettler – read the will, rushed right over to Miss Rainbeaux’s house, got the books and put them in his car.”
“Without even meeting you? That is strange. I suppose “just being nice” can’t be the answer.”
“He did invite me for a drink,” said Jacquetta smugly. “Of course that was AFTER he met me.”
“Wait till you put on your nun disguise – they’ll be all over you like flies. Guys love the Basic Black. Not to mention the wimple.”
“It’s a cloistered order, please remember.”
“I just can’t picture it,” Honey sighed, leaning on her elbows.
“And if you can’t picture it, it probably won’t happen, because you’ve got a very good imagination. Is this Dettler character mentioned in the will?”
“Sort of. Executors get a percentage, if that’s what you mean.”
“If it’s a good enough motive for Columbo. It’s good enough for me,” said Honey.
Jacquetta pulled out the broken book. “There’s also the possibility someone was looking for any message Miss Rainbeaux tried to send me. Look what Rose-Alice dragged out of the trash at the Cleese’s house.”
“Who’s Rose-Alice? You didn’t mention her.”
“Didn’t I? She’s the Cleese’s au pair.”
“What’s she like?”
“Pretty, but not too pretty. Young but not too young.”
“You’ll make a horrible detective,” said Honey. “Next time take a Polaroid.”
“I know she wants to travel,” offered Jacquetta.
“Who doesn’t?” Honey took the book and studied it thoughtfully.
“The Romance of Stained Glass. Well, we’re definitely too late for this one. Someone tore out the whole midsection.”
“Let’s hope we’re not too late for everything,” said Jacquetta.
Alysse Aallyn 
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