Page 81 of Murder By the Millions

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “You’ll want to talk to Ulla to confirm Iggie’s alibi.”

“Isn’t his wife’s name Shayna?” I asked.

“Correct.” Evelyn smiled. “We’ve tried to entice Shayna to join the troupe. She can be quite dramatic. But she’s too busy. She and Iggie have no children, so she occupies herself with the arts and such. In fact, she attended an art exhibit Monday night.”

“Then who’s Ulla?” Tegan asked.

Chloe said, “Ulla Karlsson is an actress. She performs in lots of the plays.”

I’d seen her unusual name in the program for the community theater’s musicalYoung Frankensteinand learned she was Inga, the Swedish bombshell. She’d brought down the house with her version of “Roll in the Hay.”

“Ulla is very talented and sultry,” Evelyn said. “A sensualist, one might call her. A bon vivant.” She made a grand gesture. “Shayna is her good friend. However, though they are friends, I believe—don’t quote me—I saw Iggie leaving Ulla’s house the night of the murder.”

Chloe coughed out a yelp.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Evelyn said. “Ulla lives three houses down from me. I was on my way home from auditions. It was close to midnight. And, well, all I’m saying is I doubt they were playing cards or rehearsing lines.”

“They’re having an affair?” Tegan gawked.

Evelyn nodded once. “It was the good-bye pat on her bottom that gave them away.”

“If true and your time frame is correct, I doubt he could’ve gone to the Sugarbaker estate, killed Jason, and split before I got there.”

Evelyn clucked her tongue. “He won’t own up to the affair. If he does, Shayna might take him for every penny. She’s shrewd.”

“His buddies won’t support a phony alibi, or they could be in hot water,” Tegan stated. “He’ll have to come clean.“

“True,” Evelyn said. “Very true.”

Wow, wow, wow.I’d really wanted Iggie to be guilty. The cuff link. The motive.Dang it.

Evelyn turned to leave and said, with her hand on the doorknob, “How’s your mother, Allie?”

“She’s fine. Traveling with Jamie.”

A month ago Evelyn had made a snide remark about Fern being a vagabond and never being able to put down roots, let alone raise a child. Then at Marigold’s memorial, the two had passed one another, and my mother had snubbed Evelyn. What was their full story? I had to know.

“You don’t like my mother, do you?”

She didn’t respond.

I pressed. “Why?”

“Let’s say I have my reasons.” She aimed a finger at Chloe. “Tonight. Seven sharp.”

As Tegan and I were closing the shop—Chloe had already left to prepare for her callback—Tegan invited me to join her and her mother for dinner.

“Why? Do you want me to be your wingman again when you discuss her new venture?”

“No. I want support in case Patrick is still there working.”

The car repair guy touched base at a quarter to six to inform Tegan her car wasn’t going to be fixed until tomorrow, so I gathered Darcy, stowed him in his cat carrier, and drove Tegan to the Blue Lantern in my Ford Transit.

When we arrived at the bed-and-breakfast, the sun was setting, and the brass lanterns flanking the entryway were glowing softly. Tegan entered first. I followed. Guests were mingling in the parlor, chatting about their activities for the day. A wine tasting was in progress.

Helga was offering hot mini quiches. “Welcome, ladies. I have made an excellent dinner tonight, Allie. Your favorite meal. Honey-baked chicken, roasted potatoes, and fresh green beans, with apple crumb cake for dessert.”

I eyed her slyly. “How do you know it’s my favorite?”