“How so?”
“Robert would have many parties here, almost every weekend. All kinds of people would come. Even with the flood, they would make the journey along the ridge. During Easter weekend, there was a rather large guest list and he was worried about handling such a large crowd. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind greeting everyone and introducing people. I’m not the most sociable person, but I’ve done some work in the theatre. I know how to speak in front of a small crowd. The most difficult part was remembering everyone’s name.”
“You are quite talented at it. I can tell.”
“It was the most fun I’d had in a long time. I met a lot of people, some real celebrities. Do you know the actress, Isa Bluette?”
He shook his head and laughed. “I am afraid I am permanently behind the times. Walter probably knows of her. He is much more culturally,” Rowan searched for the word, “astute.”
“She’s a personal hero of mine and it was wonderful to get the chance to meet her. I also met David Devant.”
“The magician?” Rowan perked up. “Yes, he is very good, a bit predictable but most entertaining.”
“He pulled fifty eggs from an empty hat. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Rowan finished her story. “Then he gave each egg to a volunteer who eventually could no longer hold them and they splattered on the floor.”
“Exactly. You’ve seen him perform?”
“Indeed.”
“The crowd was astounded. I think Robert was jealous of all the attention he got.” She bit her bottom lip.
“I saw David Devant perform at the Balaban and Katz in Chicago. For the final act, he made an old woman disappear.” The smile vanished from his face.
Perhaps Mr. Devant could help us now.
“After the party, Robert told me that he was impressed and he offered me a new job as permanent hostess. I still had to type letters and take dictation, but come the weekend, I was in charge.” Her eyes sparkled through the gloss of tears. “It was like I was no longer an employee and then… We became involved. Do you need to know the details of how we became involved?”
“It is not necessary.”
“As for my outburst this evening, you heard the reprehensible things Bernice said about me. When Robert refused to defend me, I felt betrayed. That’s why I said what I said. There was no malice behind my words.”
“Perfectly reasonable.” He waited for her to speak again.
“We never discussed marriage. I’m sure he wouldn’t rush into something like that because he isn’t… He wasn’t the impulsive type. He did say how nice it would be to finally settle down with someone.” Ruth’s pale pink lips trembled like those of a child and Rowan finally decided to hand her his handkerchief.
“Let us talk about Bernice Lasciva.”
“Oh, let’s not and simply say that we did.” She managed to snort a laugh. “I don’t know much about her.”
“Did Robert ever mention her?”
“Only that she was his father’s sister and she lived in Chicago. I was a little surprised when he invited her to come for his birthday, what with her never coming to visit before. Still, I was happy to meet some of his family. It seemed like a good opportunity to get closer to him. She took the train into Ashland on Tuesday, and Jack picked her up and brought her here. She had contempt for me from the moment we met.”
“Why do you think she was especially venomous toward you?”
The tears seemed to disappear. “I think it’s obvious. She viewed me as a threat.”
“When the three of you were in the office, she seemed to imply there was something incriminating to be found in this house. Do you know to what she was referring?”
“I honestly don’t, detective. She said lots of crazy things. You heard her. Have you any idea where she is now?”
Rowan sighed. “That is one of the many things I am trying to determine. I looked in the rooms down here and Walter is searching upstairs as we speak.”
“I’m sorry for asking. I mean, they were together in this room and the door was locked but then she got out somehow but the key was still inside. I’m just so bewildered.”
“As are we all, Miss Martice.” Rowan rose from the desk and began his customary pacing back and forth. “Did Lasciva talk much about Charles?”
“No, not until the letter came. He didn’t know what had become of his sister or her son.”
“What was his reaction when he received the letter?”
“He was delighted. He had assumed Ethel was deceased because she stopped writing him but now was happy to get the chance to start a relationship with his nephew. I think Robert liked the fact that some part of his sister was still alive.”
“I find it very hard to imagine Robert Lasciva as a caring man.”
“Obviously you didn’t know him very well. He loved Ethel and he wanted to have a relationship with Charles.”
Rowan cast a doubtful glance at her. “We found Robert’s will. He included Charles as a beneficiary.”
“That should tell you how he felt.”
“However, you are not a beneficiary.”
“I’m not here for money, Mr. Manory.”
Rowan combed his hair with his fingers. “Did you get along with Jack Tellum?”
Ruth laughed again but derisively this time. “Oh, no. No one got along with Jack Tellum. He was always here, but I tried to avoid him whenever possible. I know that Jack and Paul were old friends of Robert’s, but I never really dealt with them.”
“But you said before that you knew Paul. You met him in Clarksdale.”
“Yes, but our interaction was brief. I think he was sweet on me. He’s a nice enough fellow but… you know.”
“Do you think he was angry that you ended up with Robert?”
“Not angry enough to do this.”
“Could Willie have done this?”
“Everyone gets along with Willie. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
”Ruth, did anything strange happen this evening?”
She stared at him blankly.
“I mean before this.” He motioned to the bloody quilt. “Before I arrived, was there anything out of the ordinary?”
“Yes. Charles and Margaret had a row on the front porch. I was in the billiard room waiting for your arrival and I saw them.”
Rowan perked up again. “You saw them through the window?”
“Yes, I was standing right in front of it.”
“Why were they fighting?”
“I didn’t hear everything clearly but I caught the gist of it. Charles was unhinged, stomping around the porch like a madman. Margaret told him not to be a wet blanket. She felt like he was being rude. He was complaining that everyone in the manor was strange and that coming here was a mistake. But then,” Ruth’s eyes became impossibly big, “she said that they would be rid of Robert by Tuesday and would never see him again. I had the impression she meant they would leave and never come back, not that he would be dead. I want to make that clear.”
“Did you watch them come back in the house?”
“Yes.”
“From the window?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing else happened?”
“No.” She looked confused.
Rowan ground his teeth. “Just one more question. What did you do with Tellum’s gun?”
Her head turned to the left. Though they were in the office, she seemed to be imagining the billiard room in front of her. “I took it from his pocket and then I put it on the ground near the window. I didn’t even think about it. It could have gone off while he was shaking like that. Can’t you find it?”
“No. Williams checked the billiard room and it is nowhere to be found.”
“That’s not good, is it, detective?”
“It is nothing to worry about. I am certain it will turn up somewhere. Thank you, Miss Martice. Kindly return to the library.” Rowan waited for her to reach the door. “Oh, I forgot. I did not want to embarrass you, but we fou
nd your gum.”
Her ghostly face whipped around. “My gum?”
“Yes. It was under the desk.”
“I suppose it’s very unladylike. We all have bad habits.”
She left the room and Rowan eased into the chair.
Some of us are worse than others.
Walter cracked open the door. “Am I allowed to enter?”
“That depends. Have you found anything?”
“No Bernice and no poison but you won’t believe what I did find.”
Rowan waited for him to speak but Walter remained silent. “For God’s sake, Williams.”
Walter grinned like a schoolboy. “I was searching Tellum’s room. It smells like lavender if you can believe it.”
The detective held his head in his hands.
“Right, right. I opened the first door of his desk and found this.” He held up a wallet and placed it in front of Rowan. “Have a look inside.”
Rowan opened the wallet and searched through its contents. He stopped at a written list of businesses with various account information including outstanding debts. “What is the importance of this, Williams?”
“Look at the way the t’s are crossed.”
Rowan’s eyes followed the peculiar upward slant on the letter. Recognition dawned on his face. He put the list next to the two notes. “The handwriting is exactly the same.”
The grin remained plastered on Walter’s face. “Do you realize what this means?”
“Yes. It means that Jack Tellum was the author of the threat sent to Lasciva and of the taunting note addressed to me.”
“It means I was right, old man. I told you that Tellum had written the threat.”
“Surely you can recognize a lucky guess when you see it.”
“But what does it mean? Where does it leave us?”
“I do not know, Williams. It is certainly not what I had expected. Go and fetch Charles.”
As Rowan eased back in the chair behind the desk, he felt the cool calm of certainty. This particular imbroglio was a fine challenge for his wits but was by no means an albatross. Even a million-piece puzzle could be solved if he managed to collect all its pieces and decide on their place. Rowan lit a cigarette.
Tellum wrote the threat.
Charles entered and sat down. Rowan watched as he ran his fingers through his wavy hair and pulled on the sleeves of his houndstooth suit. Rowan estimated it was too small by at least three sizes. The younger Lasciva was boyishly built. A middling-sized man, he resembled Daniels sans the thinning hair, wit, and lisp.
Charles shifted his gaze from Rowan to Walter to the corpse and then back again. Without any prompting, the nephew began to recount the events of the evening. “I was asleep in my room… with my wife, naturally. We heard shouting and we came down the stairs. It was impossible to tell what was going on, so we were extremely cautious. I saw Paul Daniels go into the kitchen and we went straight to the billiard room—”
Rowan cut him off. “Mr. Lasciva, there is no need for this.”
Charles seemed flustered. “Don’t you want to know what I saw?”
“Not particularly.”
In the silence after Rowan spoke, the younger Lasciva fidgeted. “Then why did Mr. Williams ask me in?”
“I need to find out who wrote the note in Jack Tellum’s pocket. What I need from you is a sample of your handwriting to see if it matches.”
Charles cocked his head and blinked. “Yes, of course. Not a problem.” His demeanor transformed. “I’m positive I didn’t write any note.”
“Excellent.” Rowan put paper and pen in front of him.
“What would you like me to write?” asked Charles.
“Your signature will be sufficient.”
He quickly signed. “Anything else?”
“This panther piss you saw Daniels drink - was there anything odd about his behavior when he drank it? Did he seem unduly nervous?”
Charles nodded confidently. “Before he drank it he said he was going to take the piss. He said it twice. Then, after he drank it, he consumed two… no, three full glasses of vodka. Quite strange, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Lasciva. It is very strange. Where in England are you from?”
“I grew up in London, but we moved to Chichester when I was six. It’s in the—”
“I know exactly where it is. Your mother, Anne, when did she pass away?”
Charles pulled at his sleeve. “Her name was Ethel.”
“Oh, yes. I’m terribly sorry. When did Ethel pass away?”
“She died in 1915.”
Rowan nodded. “Right, right. What did you do with yourself after your mother passed?”
“You know, a bit of this and a bit of that. My father took care of me.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died of Legionnaires’ disease. It must have been seven years back. I didn’t have much money so I worked on a fishing boat. That’s when I met Margaret. Her family is quite wealthy. They own a lot of the fishing boats in Chichester.”
“I see. Why did you wait such a long time before contacting your uncle? Would it not have made more sense to contact him directly after your mother had passed?”
“I didn’t know him. I’d never met the man. When I told Margaret about my family history, she convinced me to make some phone calls and eventually we discovered where Robert lived. We had always planned a honeymoon in America, so it seemed natural to come and meet him, and he was rather receptive to the idea.”
“He was not what you had expected, was he?”
His face went blank. “No. Nothing about this trip has been what I expected.”
“When did you and your wife arrive in Mississippi?”
Charles’s eyes rolled up as he tried to picture the days on a calendar. “Let’s see, we came here on Wednesday.”
“So your grandaunt had already arrived?”
“Bernice? Yes, she was here.”
“Did you speak with her?”
“A little. We had lunch on Thursday and earlier today. She’s not a very pleasant woman.” Charles looked at the outline of his uncle’s body. “Do you know what happened to her?”
Rowan narrowed his eyes at the nephew and slowly pronounced his words. “I will know in due time. Thank you, Charles. Please go back to the library and ask your wife to join us.”
Charles stood with evident relief and shook both Rowan and Walter’s hands. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He left the room and Rowan crumpled the signed paper and threw it in the trash without looking at it.
Walter threw his arms into the air. “I’m just going to stop asking you questions.”
Rowan lifted the tissue from the ashtray and focused on the gum. “I want you to grab one of the raincoats from the rack in the hallway and go out to the cars. Daniels has a Studebaker and Charles, the Fiat. See if there is anything in the back seats.”
“Am I still looking for Bernice or something poisonous?”
“Anything.”
Rowan laid the will on the table and stared at it.
What if the puzzle pieces are blurry? No worries, old man. Everything happens for a reason. Once you know the why, the how is easy.
His heartbeat echoed for a second and he waited for it to realign.
Margaret Lasciva pleated her skirt as she entered the room. She showed none of the tears that Ruth had displayed or the nervousness of her husband. Instead, her face was a round chilled image of composure, save for the mascara smudges under her eyes from excessive rubbing. Her blonde hair was coiled in a simple bun around the back of her head. Rowan waited for her to sit and then immediately pointed at her necklace.
“Do you sleep in your necklace?”
“It’s a habit. I reach for it the moment my feet hit the floor.”
“Those are lovely pearls.” He moved in for a closer look. “They are flawless. Extraordinary.”
“A gift from my mother.” She moved two o
f the pearls back and forth with her fingers while she spoke.
“Do you also sleep in your dress?”
“I threw it on quickly. I can’t imagine being seen in my pajamas by people I barely know.”
“Your husband even took the time to throw on his tie.”
“Mr. Manory, is there a murderer in the library right now?”
“I hope not, Mrs. Lasciva, but there very well might be.”
“I suppose you deal with murderers all the time in your line of work.”
“Not as often as you suppose.”
“Well, I have never been in a situation like this. Charles and I only wanted to spend some time with his family. This was supposed to be our honeymoon.” Her eyes drifted to the floor. “What is it you would like to know from me?”
Rowan asked her the same questions he had asked Charles and she gave the same answers. She went on a bit about her family and Rowan allowed her to continue before getting to his real questions.
“Are you angry with your husband?”
“With Charles? Not at all.”
“Do you quarrel regularly?”
“Yes, about his bloody addiction to boiled sweets. Mr. Manory, we are the same as any other couple. Occasionally we have an argument.”
“You had an argument earlier this evening on the porch, did you not?”
Her jaw dropped. “I wouldn’t have called it an argument. It was a discussion. Who told you this? Was it Ruth?”
“Did you strike your husband when you were on the porch?”
“I have never hit Charles, not once. And he has never hit me. Did she tell you otherwise?”
“No, Mrs. Lasciva, she did not. What was it you were discussing?”
Slight panic showed in the quivering corners of her mouth. “We didn’t feel quite comfortable here.”
“Why not?”
“Where to begin?” Her tone changed from defensive to assured with startling speed. “I could start with Paul Daniels. The more polite you are to the man, the snider and more condescending he becomes. And Bernice…” Her face turned smug. “Did you have the pleasure of meeting her before she vanished?”
“Very briefly.”
“Then I don’t have to say another word, do I?” Her voice rattled with barely concealed mania. “Robert invited us here and yet he was cold and distant. Ruth makes herself out to be agreeable and diplomatic, but I know her type, Mr. Manory. Behind her façade she plays people against each other for her own amusement.”
Goodnight Irene Page 10