Blood Will Tell

by Mary Bowers

  “It’s nice of you to be such a good friend, but you don’t think she’s going to get too dependent on you, do you?”

  “You mean clingy? I never thought of that. Gee, I hope not. I can’t be running up to Santorini every day. Or every night either.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe she can come here. Become a volunteer. She’ll meet more people, get out of the house more. After all, what does she do all day, all by herself in that house?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Well, if she starts to lean on you too much, you might suggest it. Just an idea,” he added, shrugging again.

  I went to him and kissed him. “See? That’s why I love you so much. You’re a genius. And you never lose sight of the forest for the trees. It’s an excellent idea.”

  I put it away in my memory bank and got busy with other things.

  Chapter 26

  I got back to Santorini that night just after the sun had set. I’d been getting there a little later every time, and if things went well that night, I was hoping it would be the last. After all, she’d only gotten a little strange that one time, earlier in the day, and Trixie and I should have known better than to talk about the murder in front of her. Now that I thought about it, that “hand of Frieda” scenario had been kind of poetic. Morbid, but poetic. It just showed how strong a presence Frieda had been in Willa’s life, and how much she still thought about her. And who knew? Harriet herself had evoked the picture of herself sleeping with a ghost. Top that for morbid.

  And of course, the whole episode had brought her closer to Ed, which was a really good thing, in my opinion. He’d continue to watch over her. She was, after all, a lonely and very rich woman – ripe for the picking by some conman.

  “I want to talk to you,” I heard as I got out of my car, and for a moment I thought it was Kip again. Dread poured over me and I froze.

  But when I turned to look, I was relieved to see it was only Sherman Frey. I don’t know why, but he always seemed so frazzled and ineffectual, I tended to dismiss him.

  “I’ve been watching for you,” he said. “I knew you’d come.” He stopped and looked left and right, then said, “Come into the house.”

  “Willa is expecting me.”

  “I want to talk to you, and if you want to do it out here in the middle of Santorini Drive, that’s fine with me, but after you hear what I have to say, you might decide discretion would have been better. Suit yourself.”

  He waited, glaring at me.

  “What are you so worked up about?” I asked.

  “Come inside and see,” he challenged.

  I looked at Willa’s house, glanced down toward Ed’s (she might actually still be there instead), then decided I’d better follow him and see what was bothering him. Probably the same thing as Kip – being excluded from the neighborhood conference – but whatever it was, I was only giving him ten minutes.

  We didn’t even go all the way into the house and sit down. I’d never been in that house. It was almost always occupied by a renter; it was owned by a rich couple named Greene, and they were never home.

  He turned on me in the foyer, dodged behind me to shut the door, then hung over me like a vulture, making me squint into the foyer chandelier above his head.

  “You and that boyfriend of yours have got Willa Garden pretty well wrapped up, haven’t you?”

  “Michael?” I asked, genuinely confused. “He hardly ever sees Willa.”

  “Don’t talk like an idiot,” he snapped. “You’re not fooling me. I know what you and that Ed character are up to. He wants to marry her, doesn’t he? And you – I can’t figure out how you fit into in this scheme, but your animal shelter is a real money pit, isn’t it? You’ve been spending the nights with her, and Ed’s got her for the day, is that it? Nobody else can even see her, let alone talk to her.”

  “Now just a darn minute,” I said, and I cut loose on him. I’m pretty verbose when I get going; the words just roll out in an easy stream, and one clever slam comes out right after the other. I’m a wall of sound. By the time I got done telling him what virtuous and dedicated friends we’d been to Willa and what a jerk he was for even thinking anything else, he still hadn’t backed down, but Carr had materialized at the other end of the hall and was gaping at us.

  “What’s going on, guys?” he said, coming forward. “Why don’t you come in and sit down, instead of standing there by the front door?”

  “The lady won’t be staying,” Sherman said without taking his eyes off mine. “She’s going down to Willa’s house to spend the night, isn’t that right, Ms. Verone? Perhaps someday, when Mr. Darby-Deaver and Ms. Verone have better things to do, we can slip in to see Willa and give her our condolences.”

  Carr was with us by then, and I turned to him. “Willa has been having more problems than most of us dealing with Harriet’s death. Murder. She can’t sleep.”

  “I heard,” Carr said. “She’s seeing ghosts.”

  “And having that Darby-Deaver character going at her all day isn’t going to help her stop seeing ghosts, is it?” Sherman almost shouted.

  Carr looked at each of us in turn, then looked at me without rancor and said, “He’s got a point, you know.”

  I looked away. I knew in my heart that Ed and I were only trying to help Willa, but were we only making things worse? Based on my first night in her house, the answer could very well be yes. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought of it, but it was the first time somebody had said it to my face, and I found I couldn’t defend myself.

  “I only want to help,” I said feebly. “Ed too. He really cares about Willa.”

  Sherman made a guttural noise and threw his hands up.

  “Lighten up, Sherman,” Carr said calmly, “I believe her. Listen, Taylor, just what’s going on in the neighborhood? You’re having meetings with some people and excluding others, and putting up a fence around Willa so nobody can even drop by and hold her hand for a while. We know that something’s up. Kip was over here a little while ago telling us there’s a conspiracy building, and it’s aimed at him, but I gotta wonder just who you all do suspect, when you’re not talking to us either.”

  “We have a right to see Willa,” Sherman said, ratcheting things up again. “I demand to see her. In fact,” he declared as if he’d just thought of it, “she needs to get away from all of you entirely. I’m taking her to New York. She’s never been shown what it means to be a Strawbridge. She’s never seen the mansion her grandfather built. It’s no longer in the family, but the fact remains: she’s never even seen it. It’s about time.”

  “Is Willa going to have anything to say about this?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, she’ll go,” he said, almost craftily.

  “If the police let her,” I said. “Or you, either, for that matter.”

  “She’s right, Uncle Sherman. Trying to get Willa all to yourself at this exact moment would be a very bad idea. Can’t you see how it would look? We can’t afford to do anything without really thinking it through first. Without discussing it. And not in front of the neighbors,” he said very pointedly.

  Sherman seemed to go into suspended animation for a moment. It felt like a very long moment, but it probably wasn’t. Just as I was about to make for the door, he changed his tone of voice, made his face a mask and said, “I must apologize, Ms. Verone. I’m sure you can understand that I’m under a great deal of pressure.”

  “I’m sorry, Sherman, but I don’t understand that. Why are you under pressure?”

  “I’ve been through a terrible experience,” he said, starting to lose it again. “A murder, someone with a knife, roaming through a house in which I slept, helpless. And now the infernal sniffing and scratching of the police, not to mention the ham-handed farce being acted out by the neighbors, including yourself. Of course I’m a nervous wreck! Any reasonable man would be. What I’m trying to ask of you,” he said, working to get a grip on himself, “is that you stand aside and allow o
thers to share in Willa’s mourning. There is a reason people gather after a death. There is a reason for wakes. People need to face the finality of death together, and to support one another through the grieving process. By keeping everyone away from Willa, you’re selfishly keeping that group support away from her, and away from the rest of us, too.”

  I had never looked at the situation that way, and I told him so. “I’m not trying to keep Willa all to myself,” I added, going a little deeper. “I’m trying to stand between her and whatever haunts her.”

  “I,” he declared, “am not a ghost! I am a flesh-and-blood man, and I’ve known her since she was a young woman.”

  “You’ve known of her since she was a young woman,” Carr said.

  “You stay out of this,” his uncle snapped. “You know nothing about it. Willa and I have been good friends for quite some time now. Granted, the early years were . . . er, tense, but following the death of her aunt, we became closer.”

  Carr seemed genuinely surprised. “Really?”

  Sherman drew himself up, “Carr, I believe you have a data conversion project to attend to. We’ll excuse you now so you can get back to work.”

  Carr stood still for a moment, studying his uncle. Then he turned to me. “Taylor, are you busy tomorrow morning?”

  Caught off-guard, I stuttered a bit, then said, “I got a little behind in my work today, and I was hoping – ”

  “I thought we could stop for coffee somewhere on your way back home. Just half an hour. I could follow you in my car. We haven’t been able to talk much.”

  I couldn’t think of a single reason why we’d need to. I hardly knew the kid. Still, he’d made me curious.

  “Sure,” I said, as Sherman huffed beside me. “Ever been to Karma Café?”

  “No, but whatever you like is fine with me.”

  “Carr, what the hell?” Sherman said, but Carr ignored him and told me, “See you tomorrow morning. Just come and knock on the door when you’re ready to go.”

  “Sure.”

  Ignoring Sherman, Carr and I made a simultaneous pivot and walked off in opposite directions, he to go back into the house while I headed for the door, leaving Sherman steaming under the chandelier.

  * * * * *

  It was a good night at Willa’s. In fact, Trixie didn’t even come. I guess after all the subterfuge with Ed, she thought we had a plan, and she had given me a wink with thick black lashes before we went our separate ways in Tropical Breeze. So it was just Willa, Bastet and me that night, and Bastet chose to sleep with Willa this time.

  We had a quick, light supper as the sun was going down, and when we were finished, Willa set her elbows on the table and tilted her head at me.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

  “Without Trixie around, the noise level is definitely lower, isn’t it?” Then I tilted my head back at her. “Willa, are you and Sherman good friends?”

  Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. She blinked and sat back, then thought it over.

  “I like to think so. Naturally, he has spent his life running the family’s Foundation, so I always knew who he was. I was never really a part of that side of things. But in these past few years, there aren’t very many of us left . . . yes, he’s been friendly. Why?”

  “He called me into his house as soon as I got here tonight and read me the riot act. He thinks we’re trying to keep him away from you.”

  “He wants to see me?” she asked, looking more pleased than I expected. “Why doesn’t he just come over?”

  “He thinks Ed and I are trying to keep you all to ourselves.”

  “And I appreciate the support you’ve given me.” She took her napkin from her lap and set it on the table with a kind of decisive gesture. “Sherman is right. I’ve been hiding, and you and Ed and Trixie have been good enough to shelter me, but it’s time for me to get hold of myself. I love having you here, but I’m going to be all right from now on. Let’s let tonight be the last night for babysitting. And,” she said, raising her almost empty wineglass, “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  I touched my glass to hers. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  I was relieved. Doubtful, but relieved.

  * * * * *

  In the morning, as I was preparing to go, I couldn’t find Bastet. I hunted all over for her, then remembered I was stopping on the way home for a cup of coffee with Carr. I couldn’t leave her in the SUV, and I didn’t want to bring Carr to Cadbury House.

  In the end, I asked Willa if she’d mind keeping Bastet another day.

  “If she gets to be a nuisance, you can always bring her down to Ed’s. He likes her.”

  “She won’t be any trouble. I’m flattered that she doesn’t want to leave.”

  I left the carrier there, thinking I’d driven out to Santorini enough times, and maybe either Willa or Ed could bring Bastet home when she decided she was ready. If Willa brought her, I might talk to her about volunteering.

  I try not to read too much into these things. Cats move in mysterious ways. Maybe Bastet felt she was still needed; maybe she just liked the fancy crystal bowl Willa insisted on putting down for her food. Whatever it was, I didn’t brood about it; I was already on to the next thing – finding out what was up with Carr.

  Willa must have noticed it when I switched gears, because she asked me if anything was wrong.

  “No,” I answered, “something is sort of curious. Carr wants to have coffee with me this morning. He’s going to follow me down to Karma Café.”

  “How nice,” Willa said. “I noticed you two were hitting it off when we took our walk on the beach the other day.”

  “And I noticed that Sherman was going off his onion at you. What was he so wound up about, anyway?”

  “Oh, the police upset him. He just needed to talk. But I’m glad Carr took such a liking to you. He seems like such a lonely young man. You’re a good listener. He probably just needs somebody to talk to, and Sherman is too wound up just now to pay any attention to him.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m supposed to go knock on his door as I’m leaving, so I’d better get going.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said, suddenly inspired. “We’ll be the angels of mercy this morning. You’ll listen to Carr’s problems, and I’ll listen to Sherman’s. Then we’ll all feel better.”

  “I’ve got a feeling Sherman’s problems are going to be louder than Carr’s. Better bring ear plugs.”

  She laughed gaily, happy to be doing an act of kindness, and we gathered up my stuff and left.

  Bastet didn’t even come out to say good-bye to me.

  I wish I understood that cat.

  Chapter 27

  It was kind of comical to see how pleased Carr was that Sherman was going to have another person to rant and rave at for an hour or so. Either he’d been putting up with Sherman’s pity party all morning long or enduring a frozen silence, because he seemed delighted that Willa was going to hold Uncle’s hand for a while. He left the house like a bird flying out of a cage.

  “Lead the way,” was all he said to me before getting into his economy-size car and starting the engine.

  There was a little unusual activity over at Kip’s house – extra cars parked in the driveway – but I’d had enough of Santorini’s drama for a while, and I hit the gas pedal and got out of there.

  Karma Café is a little shack across Route A1A from the beach where you can have a cup of coffee and stare at the ocean until your mind is really blank. Carr walked in and looked around as if longing for Starbucks, commented in a bewildered way that there was no waiting line at the order counter (which was also the pick-up counter), and proceeded to order a coffee with more specifications than a jet fighter plane. I just had coffee. Normal coffee.

  He looked completely out of place in a shack full of half-awake surfer dudes and retiree/artists. His polo shirt was fresh and unrumpled, and his shorts somehow managed to look like business atti
re. He even carried a briefcase.

  We got our coffees and went back outside to the deck and found a table in the shade.

  “So what do you make of things?” he asked in a neutral voice after we’d settled down and had our first sips.

  “I wish they’d get on with it and pass a health care bill,” I answered levelly. After all, he hadn’t specified which things.

  He cracked a one-sided smile. “I mean at Santorini. Do you think he did it?”

  “Which he?”

  He exhaled heavily and gazed out to sea. “My uncle.”

  The obvious retort would have been, “Do you?” but he wouldn’t have been asking if he didn’t. I had to wonder why.

  “Let’s postulate that he’s innocent,” I said after giving it a moment’s deep thought. “After all, we have to start by jumping over a giant hurdle: he was the only other one in the house at the time, that we know of, but let’s turn it around and look at it the other way. What can you think of that would exonerate him?”

  “Oh, excellent. Yes, let’s play it that way. I want him to be innocent, you know. So let’s ask ourselves, why is Uncle Sherman innocent.”

  That took a while, and in the end, all he could say was, “Her death doesn’t benefit the Foundation in any way. And the Foundation is on the rocks. We’re facing dissolution. Part of his angst is because of that, and the murder seems to have pushed him right over the edge. After all,” he said, getting his momentum going finally, “if he intended to murder Harriet, for whatever reason, he had 24/7 access to her. Why do it at a time when he’d be the only suspect?”

  “Good point, but a negative one. That only says why he wouldn’t have done it that particular way, not that he didn’t do it. Is that all you got?”

  “I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” he said with a wry smile. “After all, I didn’t expect you to pop up with an angle like that, but it’s a good one. Why would Uncle Sherman not murder Harriet Strawbridge?”

  “Actually, Carr,” I said, setting my cup down, wrapping my fingers around it and looking down into the coffee, “what I’d really like to know is why you want to talk to me about it? You’re really worried that he did it, aren’t you?”