Dressed in her work clothes, Prudence had brought a small suitcase. “I’ll change later, of course, but I just want to do a quick vacuum.”
“It’s done,” a proud Gerry replied. “All that’s left is to cook the beef and set the table. And, er, for you to make your pudding.”
“Beef needs to go in now,” said Prudence, putting on an apron.
“It’s okay. It’s prepped and the oven is hot. See?” Gerry proudly took the garlic-studded roast from the fridge to the stove.
“Humph,” sniffed Prudence. “You seem to have everything under control. Have you washed and dried the plates and crystal? Polished the silver?” She couldn’t keep a straight face when she saw Gerry’s anxious one, and laughed. “Hah! Got you. I did it yesterday. Let’s get cracking.”
In the large dining room, they gently chivvied sleeping cats off of chairs, removing cat towels and relocating them elsewhere in the house. The towels, that is. Relocating cats proved impossible. There were no doors in the wide doorways leading into and out of the dining room. “Whatever are we to do?” wailed an increasingly frustrated Gerry, carefully detaching cat claws from upholstery. The boys had jumped onto the table and were staring up at the crystal chandelier as though they’d never seen it before.
“They’ll settle down if we’re persistent,” calmed Prudence. “Remember, they’re creatures of habit.” She went into the kitchen and returned with a can of cat food. “Supper time!” The cats as one followed her back to the kitchen. “We’ll feed them early, keep them in here for as long as it takes to set the table, then move them elsewhere.”
Gerry helped her prepare all the cat dishes, then the women shut the kitchen door on the feeding army of felines. “Whew!” Gerry exclaimed.
They hurriedly spread a white tablecloth and laid the table. The fine china — white with a simple floral pattern in dark blue and orange — and shining crystal and cutlery looked fine. They added silver candlesticks and salt and pepper shakers and stepped back to admire their work.
Increasingly, they became aware of meows coming from the kitchen. The cats, unused to being shut in anywhere, were making their displeasure heard. “This is a nightmare,” Gerry moaned. “I’m sweating.”
“Come on.” Prudence gave Gerry an armload of cat towels and took another herself. They dashed upstairs and spread towels on their beds. Then they each took a litter box, cleaned it, and put it in their bedrooms.
Looking at the little box in a corner of her room, and envisioning ten or so cats attempting to share it, Gerry shouted, “One isn’t enough!” and joined Prudence on the stairs.
“I agree!” They repeated the process, then ran to the kitchen and opened the door. “Quick, we haven’t much time,” gasped Prudence, and, taking one for herself, handed Gerry an open can of tuna and a large dish. Even though they’d just eaten, the smell of the fish focused the cats wonderfully and they followed the women upstairs and into the bedrooms, where they each dumped a can out onto a dish.
With barely enough time to grab her clothes and shoes, Gerry slammed the door to her room. Prudence met her on the landing, laughing and holding a hand to her side. “We can let them out once the guests are seated,” Prudence assured Gerry. “Then it’s everyone for themselves.”
They washed and dressed in their party clothes and met in the kitchen. Prudence had on her emerald green dress. She put a clean pretty apron over it and said, “Now for the pudding.”
Gerry remonstrated. “But, Prudence, I made a custard for my dessert. Don’t you think a pudding is unnecessary?”
Prudence opened the oven and extracted some of the fatty beef juice that had collected in the roasting pan. She squirted it into a buttered baking dish and put it back into the oven. “Watch and learn.”
She beat a very few ingredients together and Gerry was watching and trying to learn when the doorbell rang. “They’re here!” she exclaimed and went to greet her guests.
First were Cathy, Markie and Mr. Parminter. Cathy carried the large covered turkey pan into the dining room, Markie handed Gerry an enormous bouquet of flowers and then helped settle Mr. Parminter in a chair at the table. Gerry took a glass plate out of a nearby cupboard. The bell rang again. She gave the plate to Markie. “Could you arrange the cheese on that? Excuse me.” She heard Mr. Parminter begin, “Last time we had a thaw like this, the ice —”
This time she admitted Cece, bearing another large covered dish, while a sack from the liquor store hung off his arm. Bea entered using a cane and was ensconced next to Mr. Parminter.
Now that Mr. Parminter had company, Gerry saw Markie continue to make herself useful, finding vases and arranging her flowers, some on the table and some in the entrance next to the urn. Then she opened a bottle of wine and started pouring.
Meanwhile, Gerry was at the door again. Andrew, with more wine, and Doug and David with a box of Christmas crackers, jostled in the entranceway, shedding their boots. “Dahling, you look mahvellous,” drawled Andrew, kissing her cheek.
“Yes, you do,” confirmed Doug, likewise saluting her.
“Hi, Aunt Gerry,” murmured a shy David, following his father and handing her the box.
“Let me take your coat, David, and then why don’t you go through with these —” She handed him back the crackers “ — and put one in front of each place setting; it doesn’t matter exactly where.”
Gerry hung up people’s coats on the rack and restored order among the boots strewn on the floor. Then, taking a deep breath, on the occasion of her first formal dinner party, she walked into the dining room.
It was all ready. Her roast was centre stage, flanked by Cathy’s golden turkey, Bea’s roasted rosemary root vegetables and all the little relishes, pickles, gravies and sauces necessary to the feast.
At that minute Prudence entered, bearing an enormous Yorkshire pudding and everyone at the table cheered. “To Gerry!” toasted Andrew. “To Gerry!” they echoed. Then each of the other cooks was toasted, more wine was poured and they set to. Crackers were pulled, inane jokes read out and paper hats perched on people’s heads where they were swiftly forgotten by some and enjoyed by others.
It did Gerry’s heart good to look around her table at family and friends, think what a difference the last year had made in her life. Last year’s Christmas had been fun. She’d spent it with friends who had a rooftop deck. It had been a mild Toronto day and they’d barbequed their turkey breast and sat around afterwards eating chocolate and listening to their host’s collection of jazz.
Now she was in Lovering. The temperature, usually, was sub-zero, but she had all these new people in her life and all these cats. The cats! She excused herself, went upstairs and quietly opened the doors of her and Prudence’s rooms.
All was calm. Everyone had settled down. She left the doors open so they could mingle if they wished and returned to her guests.
She noted Cathy and Markie exchanging hats, so Markie’s would match her mauve jacket. The yellow hat looked well on Cathy’s dark hair. They were obviously having a ball.
Mr. Parminter’s red hat slipped off and wafted to the floor where David quietly retrieved it and put it on the table. David was hatless, of course. At seventeen, one’s dignity couldn’t survive the wearing of a funny hat! Gerry smiled at him and he smiled back. He’d be all right, she hoped.
She looked at his father and wondered if she still felt anything for him. Doug caught her eye on him and toasted her silently, his lips curving slightly.
Gerry toasted him back, keeping her looks demure, but felt her stomach flip and her cheeks redden. Question answered.
She shifted her gaze down the table towards Andrew. He seemed fascinated by Markie, was watching her face and hands, laughing with her frequently. That would be nice, though Markie must be considerably older than Andrew. Like Doug is older than you, a mischievous inner voice reminded her.
“Desse
rt!” Gerry collected dirty plates and, to her surprise, David, after a nudge from his father, helped her bring them to the kitchen. She prepared coffee and tea and sent him back with the pots. Then, with trembling hands, she sprinkled sliced almonds and candied orange peel on the whipped cream atop her trifle and bore it triumphantly into the dining room.
The guests united in one “Ahhh!!!” Gerry was just digging in with a shining silver serving spoon when a knock at the door surprised them all — except Gerry. “I asked a couple of acquaintances to drop in for dessert,” she explained. “Doug? Would you?” He went to the door.
Andrew produced a large box of chocolates and had just begun passing it around when a puzzled-looking Doug led Steve and Ralph Parsley through.
“Pull up a couple of chairs, Steve. Ralph. Trifle?” Gerry saw Prudence and Bea give her quizzical looks. “Ralph and Steve play on Doug’s curling team. I met them when Doug was introducing me to the sport.”
Ralph was enthusiastically wolfing down Gerry’s trifle. “Say, you got booze in this?” He half rose from his seat. “I brought a two-four. It’s in the truck. You want I should get it?”
“That’s very nice of you, Ralph, but we’re okay for now.”
“All right. You just let me know. If you run out of wine.”
Steve sat upright in his chair, eating the dessert and drinking a coffee. “Very nice, Gerry.” His gaze travelled around the room. “Thank you for including us.” His eyes rested on Markie. “I know everyone except this charming lady.”
Gerry did the honours. “Markie Stribling, Steve Parsley.”
Markie graciously made an effort. “Any relation to the Parsley Inn Parsleys? My sister tells me we must dine there before my holiday is over.”
“It’s closed,” Ralph blurted, “until our cousin gets his act together. Meanwhile, us employees starve.”
“We’re not starving, Ralph,” Steve said. “Phil’s lost his wife. It’s to be expected he’d take a break from work.” He looked at Markie. “And yes, we are related to Phil, but the connection goes back a few generations.”
Cathy interjected in a low voice, “I wonder if the police are any closer to finding who did it. It makes me anxious, knowing the person who killed Betty is still out there. As soon as I got home, I had the locks changed.”
Gerry nodded. “You were wise to do that, Cathy.” She lowered her voice. “I called the police this week. To tell them something I hadn’t thought important enough. And they’ve been questioning someone who works at the inn. One of the waitresses.”
Ralph sat up straight on hearing this bit of news. Steve just sipped his coffee. The other guests focused on what was happening. What was happening?
Gerry continued. “I called to tell them I’d seen Steve, or Ralph, arguing with Betty Parsley after church the Sunday she went missing. I told them I was sorry, but I couldn’t tell the twins apart.” There was a painful hush in the room. Ralph Parsley blinked furiously. Steve gently tapped the table with one finger. Prudence left the room.
“And then I met Annette Bledsoe, one of the Parsley Inn’s waitresses, at the Two Sisters’. And she told me a bit about DNA — what the police told her. About how they’d found Phil Parsley’s DNA on Betty. But only where you’d expect. Apparently, he kissed her cheek.” Here, Gerry’s voice caught, as the reality of Phil’s loss and Betty’s loss of life, took her over.
“But the police found other DNA on Betty’s face and head. She’d been beaten, you see.” Gerry was sorry to see Mr. Parminter shading his eyes with one hand, but heartened when David put one arm around the old man’s shoulders. She smiled briefly at the boy and he nodded.
“That was the cause of the delay in the investigation — the other DNA was so similar to Phil’s. It had to belong to a Parsley.” Ralph Parsley caught his breath and looked wildly around the room. His brother laid a hand on his wrist to calm him.
“Lots of Parsleys and Parsley relatives in Lovering,” Steve said smoothly, “And in this room.” He looked at Prudence, who’d just slipped back into her seat.
“I know,” said Gerry. “That’s why they were so pleased when I phoned. It narrowed the field. So they started interviewing the staff at the Parsley, discreetly.”
“Didn’t interview me!” Ralph interjected violently. “They interview you, Steve?” Steve shook his head.
Gerry focused on Ralph. “She saw you, Ralph.”
His mouth hung open. “Who?”
“The waitress I said was helping the police. Saw you bringing boxes of liquor up from the inn’s basement during the party.”
“Annette? Well, she told me to. Told me Betty wanted this and that, so I brought the stuff up. Didn’t I, Steve?” Steve nodded.
Gerry turned her gaze to him. “Oh, were you at the party, Steve? I’d have remembered seeing you, I think.”
Steve answered quietly, “Helping out behind the scene. Like Ralph.”
“Huh. I’ll bet.” Gerry appeared to think. “I’ll bet it’ll turn out you, Steve, and possibly you, Ralph, were fiddling either the books or the liquor orders, or both, and Betty suspected you and accused you. ’Cause you weren’t in love with her, were you? Remember when you said how sorry you were I found the body?” All eyes shifted to Steve, who remained impassive. Gerry continued. “That got me thinking. What a weird thing to say.” She shivered. “And cold. So if it wasn’t for love, it must have been for money. I’ll bet you told her some story about the missing liquor being ‘temporarily’ stored in Cathy’s basement and got her there the night of the party, ostensibly to show it to her, even return it. I wonder if you, Steve, tried to blame Ralph and protest your own innocence and she didn’t buy it.”
Ralph blustered. “Steve wouldn’t rat on me, would you, Steve?”
His brother merely laid a restraining hand on his twin’s arm and looked warily at Gerry.
She continued. “Anyway, back to DNA. Annette helped with that, too.”
Steve narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yes?”
“You two were giving Phil a hand with inventory a few days ago. And she brought you cans of pop when you got thirsty.”
“Yeah,” Ralph said indignantly. “She gave Steve the last cola and me a ginger ale, when she knows we both always drink cola.” There was a pause and Ralph added a deflated, “Oh.”
“We’re identical, I’d just like to point out,” Steve stated calmly. “And, as far as I know, our DNA is, too. Come on, Ralph. I think we’ve provided enough entertainment for these ladies and gentlemen tonight.”
Gerry, her heart pounding, watched them stand and turn to leave. “Oh, you are identical, Steve, but there’s a newish test that can differentiate between twins. Didn’t you know?” Steve stood still to listen, his back to the room. Ralph turned, his mouth agape.
“It’s called melting curve analysis. I think.” Gerry’s voice faltered. “I googled it,” she added defensively. “Identical twins’ DNA is identical, but as they age, their lifestyle choices change their DNA, as they change all of our DNA. For example, Ralph, here, smokes. I’ve never seen Steve with a cigarette.” As Steve slowly turned to face her, the brothers exchanged a look. Gerry gave another example. “And while I know Steve drinks — remember slipping that dose of whisky into my coffee, Steve?” Doug’s eyes narrowed and he stood up suddenly, his chair falling over backwards. Prudence laid a cautionary hand on his arm.
Steve flicked them a contemptuous smile and nodded. “I remember.”
“While Steve likes a drink, I think it’s Ralph who’s the alcoholic.”
Ralph snarled, “I can quit anytime. I just like the taste of beer, that’s all.”
Gerry repressed a startled reaction as a cat’s body pressed around her ankles. “So the police are quite confident that they’ll soon identify whose DNA is at the murder scene and on Betty Parsley’s body.” The cat, Bob, jumped onto Gerry’s lap. She stroked him,
feeling her sweaty palm on his fur. She looked right at Ralph Parsley. “Who does it belong to, do you think? Ralph?”
With a cry of terror, Ralph took a step back, jostling Steve, and Doug moved to do something — Gerry later wondered what — smack Steve in the nose? Markie also made as if to rise.
But Bob beat them all. He used the short hop from Gerry’s lap onto the table to launch himself over the trifle straight at the twins.
21
Mr. Parminter slumped suddenly in his seat and all eyes shifted to his frail form. Almost all eyes. David and Markie moved. David pulled Mr. Parminter out of harm’s way while Markie reached Ralph and punched him so hard in the jaw he fell onto the floor.
Gerry shouted, “Call 911! Call an ambulance! Oh, my God!” She moved to the end of the room, where David was supporting a suddenly revived Mr. Parminter, who was taking in the action with sparkling eyes. “He’s all right?” a dazed Gerry asked.
Meanwhile, Bob, after raking Steve’s face, had ricocheted back onto the table, where he sniffed the remains of the trifle, recoiled at the smell of sherry, and settled for lapping cream out of a jug. Doug grappled with Steve.
Ralph moaned, “You said she fell, Steve. You said she fell.”
Steve, hearing his brother incriminate him, made an extra effort and freed himself from Doug. He made for the front door. Flashing blue lights on arriving police cars caused him to turn. He raced out the back door onto the porch. Those still in the dining room saw his blurred outline for a moment as he dashed past the windows. Then he was gone. Doug rushed out after him.
Suddenly, the dining room was silent. Everyone started talking at once.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Mr. Parminter?”
The Cat Vanishes Page 20