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Authors: Lia Farrell
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love-fest . “Dory, did you say that you were able to get Bethany Cooper to come in this morning?”
“Yes, she’ll be here at ten-thirty.”
“Can you check the gun registry for her and for Dan Cooper? And put some shoes on. Damn it, woman, I’d like this place to at least look professional.”
“Yes, sir .” Dory rolled her eyes and padded out.
Chapter Twelve
Detective Wayne Nichols
D ory handed Detective Nichols the list of his appointments. The first name on the list was Miranda Booth Stackhouse.
“Miranda is the Junior League chairwoman for the charity event, and she holds the keys to the house. While the designers are working at the house, a member of the Design Committee has to let them in. There’s a front table and every designer signs in and out. You need to check the ledger. The Committee has to be very careful in case of any allegations of theft.”
Detective Nichols jotted this down in his notebook, wondering who else besides Miranda and July Powell had keys to the house.
“Can you find out whether anyone else had a key?”
Nodding, she said, “I’ll try. You’re going to interview Miranda first this morning. Deputy Fuller will be going with you to her house. Bethany Cooper will be here when you get back.”
“She wasn’t the nursery designer though, right?”
Dory looked at the notes on her desk. “Right, Bethany designed one of the nearby rooms. Lacey Duncan did the nursery, but he’s not available for questioning.”
Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Lacey is male? And can’t be questioned?”
“Right. Lacey is a famous designer who grew up here. Apparently, he developed the plan for the nursery, which he did as a personal favor to Miranda, and then he flew to D.C. to work on a design for the French Embassy. He left several weeks ago. Shauna Lewis, his assistant, finished it to his specs and did the mural.” Dory sounded unimpressed as she read from her notes.
“Okay, thanks.” Wayne collected Deputy Robert Fuller and they left the office.
After driving to the eastern side of Rosedale, they entered a new subdivision called Heather Hills and the driveway of a large home at 4891 Heath Drive. Deputy Fuller rang the bell, and a short heavy-set brunette in her forties, wearing a tan skirt and a pale blue blouse, answered the door.
“Hello,” she said, “I’m Miranda. Come in.” She had dark circles under her eyes and looked tired.
They entered a formal foyer and Miranda led them to an office with an imposing desk and dark, solid looking bookshelves. The books looked like those you see in a law library. The impressive bookcases were made from walnut with curved glass fronts.
“Would you like coffee?” she asked.
“No thank you.” Detective Nichols shook his head. Deputy Fuller switched on the recorder.
“Mrs. Stackhouse, you’re the Junior League chair for this year’s fundraiser, is that right?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
Detective Nichols always started with the routine questions—questions he already knew the answers to. “Is that a volunteer position?”
“All the Junior League jobs are volunteer positions, Detective. Chairing the committee for the Showhouse is a lot of work, but it’s an honor. I’ve been working up to it for years. When we got the Booth Mansion for this year’s Showhouse, everybody wanted me to be the chair because of my connection to the home.”
“ Since the Showhouse opening had to be postponed indefinitely, you’re most likely aware that Thomas John Ferris was killed at the Booth Mansion at approximately five-fifty seven p.m. on August second.” Wayne watched her closely.
Miranda nodded. She closed her eyes briefly and her face paled.
“Did you know Mr. Ferris?”
“Yes, I did. Poor little Tommy. I am … that is I was , his big sister. Actually, I’m his stepsister. His mother married my father when he was barely five. I haven’t seen him since he was twenty years old. He must have been about thirty-five.”
“Yes, she’ll be here at ten-thirty.”
“Can you check the gun registry for her and for Dan Cooper? And put some shoes on. Damn it, woman, I’d like this place to at least look professional.”
“Yes, sir .” Dory rolled her eyes and padded out.
Chapter Twelve
Detective Wayne Nichols
D ory handed Detective Nichols the list of his appointments. The first name on the list was Miranda Booth Stackhouse.
“Miranda is the Junior League chairwoman for the charity event, and she holds the keys to the house. While the designers are working at the house, a member of the Design Committee has to let them in. There’s a front table and every designer signs in and out. You need to check the ledger. The Committee has to be very careful in case of any allegations of theft.”
Detective Nichols jotted this down in his notebook, wondering who else besides Miranda and July Powell had keys to the house.
“Can you find out whether anyone else had a key?”
Nodding, she said, “I’ll try. You’re going to interview Miranda first this morning. Deputy Fuller will be going with you to her house. Bethany Cooper will be here when you get back.”
“She wasn’t the nursery designer though, right?”
Dory looked at the notes on her desk. “Right, Bethany designed one of the nearby rooms. Lacey Duncan did the nursery, but he’s not available for questioning.”
Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Lacey is male? And can’t be questioned?”
“Right. Lacey is a famous designer who grew up here. Apparently, he developed the plan for the nursery, which he did as a personal favor to Miranda, and then he flew to D.C. to work on a design for the French Embassy. He left several weeks ago. Shauna Lewis, his assistant, finished it to his specs and did the mural.” Dory sounded unimpressed as she read from her notes.
“Okay, thanks.” Wayne collected Deputy Robert Fuller and they left the office.
After driving to the eastern side of Rosedale, they entered a new subdivision called Heather Hills and the driveway of a large home at 4891 Heath Drive. Deputy Fuller rang the bell, and a short heavy-set brunette in her forties, wearing a tan skirt and a pale blue blouse, answered the door.
“Hello,” she said, “I’m Miranda. Come in.” She had dark circles under her eyes and looked tired.
They entered a formal foyer and Miranda led them to an office with an imposing desk and dark, solid looking bookshelves. The books looked like those you see in a law library. The impressive bookcases were made from walnut with curved glass fronts.
“Would you like coffee?” she asked.
“No thank you.” Detective Nichols shook his head. Deputy Fuller switched on the recorder.
“Mrs. Stackhouse, you’re the Junior League chair for this year’s fundraiser, is that right?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
Detective Nichols always started with the routine questions—questions he already knew the answers to. “Is that a volunteer position?”
“All the Junior League jobs are volunteer positions, Detective. Chairing the committee for the Showhouse is a lot of work, but it’s an honor. I’ve been working up to it for years. When we got the Booth Mansion for this year’s Showhouse, everybody wanted me to be the chair because of my connection to the home.”
“ Since the Showhouse opening had to be postponed indefinitely, you’re most likely aware that Thomas John Ferris was killed at the Booth Mansion at approximately five-fifty seven p.m. on August second.” Wayne watched her closely.
Miranda nodded. She closed her eyes briefly and her face paled.
“Did you know Mr. Ferris?”
“Yes, I did. Poor little Tommy. I am … that is I was , his big sister. Actually, I’m his stepsister. His mother married my father when he was barely five. I haven’t seen him since he was twenty years old. He must have been about thirty-five.”
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