Murder at the Mansion by Sheila Connolly

Author:Sheila Connolly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2018-06-26T07:00:00+00:00

18

The detective left first, then Josh said, “I have to lock up so I’m going to ask you to clear out.” Ryan and I followed Josh meekly out the front door. He said good-bye, leaving the two of us standing awkwardly on the front stoop.

“So, dinner?” Ryan asked.

“Sure. Pizza all right? I don’t think we’ve got a lot to choose from in town.”

“It’s not the same pizza place we used to hang out at, is it?”

“Oh, no. But they made terrible pizza, at least in hindsight. This one couldn’t be worse. Did I mention that Lisbeth and I found Cordy’s secret wine trove?”

“You did not. Anything good?”

“I’m no expert, but there were bottles in there that I’ve drooled over but could never bring myself to actually splurge for.”

“Interesting. Cordy was never really a connoisseur. I wonder if she had them to impress someone? Her corporate allies? Or her mystery partner?”

“Possibly. The cache was well hidden, not where anyone would just stumble over it and snag a bottle. Can we drink one? It might do wonders for bad pizza.”

“I’m executor of her estate, so I officially approve your request for one bottle of wine. Although if it’s really good stuff, I should probably make a note for the inventory, at least for inheritance tax purposes.”

“Whatever. Pickup or delivery?”

“What? Oh, does this pizza place deliver?”

“I have no idea. Remember, I haven’t been around much for more than fifteen years, until this week. Let’s go to the B&B and call. If they do deliver, I’ll show you where to find the wine.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan agreed amiably. “I’ll meet you there, since we’ve got the two cars.”

“Great.”

He waited for me to locate my car keys then we made our way to the front gate and headed back to the center of Asheboro. As I drove, I reviewed the impromptu plan I had come up with at the Barton house. That there might be something of value in the house somewhere seemed perfectly plausible to me, although I had no idea what it could be. Judging by the décor of the house, Henry Barton had plenty of money to spend, at least after 1880 or so, and he had chosen the best of the best at the time. Although, I amended, what I’d seen of the foundation in the basement suggested that the place had begun as a much simpler house when he bought it, which in turn suggested that when Henry had become wealthy, he had expanded it to reflect his new status. I’d have to check property records. And any society news in the local papers, I added to myself. Or maybe finding a site for his factory had dictated where he would settle. I made another mental note to see what history there was about the factory. I really needed another session at the library. Maybe Audrey could point me in the right direction.

I parked behind the B&B. Ryan’s car was already there—did he know a shortcut, or was he

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