“Something she could use to get Deirdre to ease the way for her with the high-society folk?” Stewart asked, one eyebrow arched.
“Basically,” I said. Stewart startled me by laughing. I noticed Azalea was smiling, too.
“Okay, what is it? What am I missing here?” I asked.
Stewart was still laughing, so Azalea explained.
“People like Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce don’t have much to do with Mrs. Thompson,” Azalea said. “They’re about as high in high society here as you can get, and those other society folks follow their lead.”
Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce Ducote, dear friends of mine, were indeed the true doyennes of Athena society. Given their constant generosity to many charitable causes, I could see why they wouldn’t find Deirdre Thompson at all congenial.
“If somebody told Gerry Albritton that Deirdre was her ticket to high society, they were either leading her on or didn’t have a clue,” Stewart said.
Had Jared Carter encouraged Gerry to cultivate Deirdre? As her silent partner, he was probably the likeliest candidate. He was not in that rarified atmosphere himself, so perhaps he really didn’t know the truth about Deirdre’s standing with the real aristocracy in Athena.
The question that occurred to me was what kind of proof Gerry could have had to make good on her threat to expose Deirdre. Maybe she was connected to the housekeeper somehow?
“Do you know what the housekeeper’s name was?” I asked.
Stewart shook his head. “I might have known it at one time, but at the moment I can’t dredge it up.”
“Azalea?” I asked.
“I think her name was Glory Smalls,” Azalea said.
“Any connection to the Albrittons?” I asked.
Azalea frowned. “I’ll have to think about that. I don’t believe the girl came from around here. I can ask a couple of friends who might know something.”
“Thanks.” I knew Azalea would do it discreetly. “If you come up with anything, it could help. Before I forget, is Kanesha familiar with these rumors?”
“Yes,” Azalea said.
“All right, I’m done.” I smiled at them. “I have no idea if what we’ve talked about has a bearing on the investigation, but you never know.”
Azalea stood. “Are you ready for lunch now?”
I had been so involved with my quest for information, I had forgotten about lunch.
“My goodness, yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, I hope it’s not ruined because of my questions.”
“No, it’s not.” Azalea went to the fridge and pulled out a salad bowl, one of the larger ones. She brought it to the table. “Grilled chicken salad. I know you prefer the chicken chilled.”
“It looks delicious,” I said. “Yes, definitely chilled.”
Azalea looked at Stewart. “There’s another one, if you want it.”
“Yes, please,” Stewart said. “I’m in the mood for a good salad.”
Azalea took another bowl from the fridge and set it in front of Stewart. Next, she pulled out three bottles of dressing. I almost always chose my favorite, Thousand Island. Stewart varied his choices between balsamic vinaigrette and ranch. Today he chose the former.
After Azalea gave us utensils and napkins, Stewart and I dug in. A glass of sweet tea appeared by my place, and Stewart received a large glass of filtered water before Azalea left the kitchen. Azalea never ate with us even though I would have been happy to have her join. I knew she did eat lunch, but usually when she was on her own in the kitchen.
I put my fork down. Sean. I hadn’t heard from him. I wasn’t going to wait any longer for him to call. I dug out my phone and hit Speed Dial. The call went to his voice mail after six rings. I ended the call. I decided to text instead. He might have been with a client when I called. That was me calling. Update on Alex and Rosie? I set the phone aside and resumed eating my salad.
Stewart had watched me closely. “Are you trying to reach Sean?”
I nodded. “Yes, I want an update on Alex and Rosie.”
“I’d like that, too,” Stewart said.
We didn’t have long to wait. My phone buzzed to announce a new text message. In fact, it buzzed three times, so I knew the message was a long one.
I read through it slowly, making sure I took in the details. Then I heaved a sigh of relief. The gist of it was that Alex was continuing to improve physically, gaining some strength, and beginning to have an appetite again. Her psychological gains were slower but steady, thanks to her therapy sessions. I knew she would need counseling for a while, perhaps months, before she returned to her usual self. Rosie was doing fine with Cherelle, and Sean was extremely pleased with her.
I passed the phone over to Stewart so he could read the update for himself. He scanned the messages quickly. With a smile, he passed the phone back to me. “Excellent news.”
“Yes, I’m very pleased,” I said. “I was hoping Alex might be able to come here for Christmas, but that might be too much to ask.”
“It is the season for miracles,” Stewart said.
“I’ll be praying for one,” I said. “I forgot to ask Sean if she was up to having visitors.” I picked up the phone and tapped out another text.
Sean responded quickly, saying that Alex would love to see me. I decided to run over to their house then, before I got caught up in something else. I was anxious to see Alex.
I announced my intentions to Stewart and hurried through the rest of my salad. I decided not to take Diesel with me. Better not to overwhelm Alex, and I wouldn’t stay long anyway. I didn’t want to tire her unnecessarily. I was about to run upstairs to brush my teeth when I heard the doorbell. I hoped whoever was at the door wasn’t going to take up a lot of my time, because I wanted to get to Sean’s place. Diesel came loping out of the kitchen the moment he heard the bell.
When I opened the door, I saw a small figure wearing a jacket with a black hood. The gremlin face was gone, replaced by the solemn mien of a child.
THIRTY-ONE
I recognized the boy immediately. He sang in the choir at Helen Louise’s church. In fact, he was the boy soprano soloist, and he had a hauntingly angelic singing voice.
“Hi, Tommy.” His name was Tommy Russum, and he lived several blocks away with his mother and stepfather. His mother was a friend of Helen Louise. “Would you like to come in?”
The boy nodded and stepped inside the house. I shut the door, and he pushed back the hood to expose his dark auburn mop of hair. Small for his age—around eleven, I thought—he stood looking up at me, a mute appeal in his expression.
“Let’s go see the kittens, shall we?” I said.
“Yes, please,” he said softly.
I led the way. Diesel walked beside Tommy, and the boy stroked his head. Diesel purred his thanks.
The minute Tommy saw the kittens, he hurried to the cage and dropped to his knees, his hands against the wire mesh. The kittens squeaked and chirped as they tried to reach his hands. He looked up at me again. “Thank you for taking care of them.”
“I’m happy to do it. Why don’t we let them out so you can play with them?”
“Yes, please.” He scooted back, and I opened the door. Diesel watched anxiously as the kittens scrambled to get to Tommy, now sitting with his legs stretched out. They crawled over his legs, and Ramses tried to crawl up his arm, claws grabbing at the thick fabric of the jacket.
Tommy laughed as he picked them up in turn and let them lick his face. As I watched, I wondered how an adult could be so cruel to a child, to deprive him of such love and joy. The family wasn’t poor as far as I knew. Tommy’s stepfather, if I recalled correctly, was a cardiologist and reputedly an excellent one. He could surely afford kitten food for this bunch. He must be the he Tommy had referred to in the original note to me.
I pulled a chair close to where Tommy continued to play w
ith the kittens. Diesel stood watch, ready to pounce if one of them tried to make a break for it. At the moment, however, they seemed happy to play with Tommy.
“They haven’t forgotten you,” I said. “I hope you weren’t worried about that.”
Tommy regarded me solemnly, his smile gone. “I was kinda worried about that.”
“Did you have names for them?” I asked.
He nodded but didn’t speak.
“I didn’t know what to call them, so I gave them names, too.”
“What do you call them?” he asked.
I told him the names and explained the origin of them. He smiled when I mentioned Fred and George Weasley. “I love Harry Potter,” he said. “I like your names better. Mine were kinda lame.”
“They’re your kittens, so you call them whatever you want. I won’t mind if you’d rather call them something else.”
He shook his head. “No, your names are better.” He pulled Ramses off his shoulder to stop the kitten from trying to groom his head. “Tell me about Ramses again and where his name comes from, please.”
I told him about the ancient Egyptian pharaoh and his namesake from the Amelia Peabody series. He smiled when I told him about the fictional Ramses’s penchant for getting into trouble.
“That’s a perfect name for him.” Tommy stroked the kitten’s head while the others squirmed around his legs, batting at tails and squeaking at one another.
“We need to talk about why you brought the kittens here,” I said gently. “Is it because of your stepfather?”
Tommy nodded. “He’s mean. He doesn’t want me to have a cat.”
“You must have a cat if you have these kittens,” I said.
“I found their mom in our yard. She looked hungry, and I started feeding her. He didn’t know about it. Then one morning I went looking for her when she didn’t show up.”
“But you found her,” I prompted when he stopped.
He nodded. “He has this old shed in the backyard. She was in there. I found her with her babies. They were so tiny.”
“You looked after her and made sure she had enough to eat so she could take care of the babies, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “He hardly ever goes in the shed, and I thought they could stay there. But he went out there a couple weeks ago and found them.”
“Did he talk to you about them?” I asked.
Tommy shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He talked to my mom about it. I heard them. She thinks it’s okay to have the kittens, but he doesn’t. He told my mom I wouldn’t take care of them, and he wasn’t going to spend a lot of money on a bunch of damn nasty cats.” His lips trembled. “But I was taking care of them. I was buying their food out of my ’lowance. My mom gives me that, he doesn’t. She has a job, so it’s her money, and she doesn’t care how I spend my ’lowance.”
“I appreciate the money you left for me,” I said. “It’s very responsible of you, but you can have it back if you need it.”
Tommy shook his head vigorously. “No, you keep it. I get more next week, and I’ll give that to you, too.” He looked at Diesel. “You must have to spend a lot of money already to feed your kitty. Do you think one of mine will get that big?”
“No, they’re not the same kind of kitty that Diesel is. He’s a Maine Coon, and they’re a breed that is pretty large.”
He seemed disappointed, and I tried not to smile.
I would love to have a talk with his stepfather and his mother. I knew it wasn’t my business, and they would have to handle this situation themselves. The stepfather ought to know how much these kittens obviously meant to Tommy, and the fact that the child was doing his best to see after their welfare ought to count for something. I didn’t know the man, but I already disliked him.
“Do you think if I talked to your stepfather, he might let you bring the kittens home?” I asked.
Hope flared in Tommy’s eyes but faded quickly. He shook his head. “No, he’s too mean. He doesn’t want cats in the house. But they couldn’t stay in the shed forever. It’s too cold. That’s why I brought them here, so they could come inside.”
Such a loving, kindhearted child, I thought. This made me even angrier at his stepfather.
“They’re safe and warm here,” I said, “and they’re getting plenty to eat. There is a problem, though.”
Tommy frowned. “Are they pooping on the floor?”
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “They’re using the litter boxes just fine. They’re growing, and they’re going to get a lot bigger. I can’t keep them in the cage once they get too big. As much as I would love to keep all of them, I can’t. That would mean six cats in the house, and that’s too many.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Tommy sounded fearful.
“That’s what I want you to help me decide,” I said. “We need to do what’s best for them, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I believe I can find good homes for them. Not all five together, though.”
“Won’t they miss one another if they’re separated?”
“Yes, for a while,” I said. “I hate to separate them, but in order for them to have a good home, we have to do it. Someone might take two or three of them, I think, but not all five.”
“I understand,” he said. I could tell he was trying not to cry. “I want them to be safe.”
I felt like an ogre who had stolen his beloved kittens. I knew that was ridiculous, but I felt so bad for him.
“I won’t let them go to anyone you don’t approve of,” I said. “If it’s possible, I want you to meet the people who will adopt them.”
“Really?” After I nodded, he said, “I guess that’s okay then.” He removed the kittens from his lap and off his legs to stand. “I think I’d better go home now. My mom isn’t at work today, and she doesn’t like me to be gone long.”
“We don’t want your mother to worry.” I rose from the chair to start gathering kittens. He helped me put them back into the cage. He stood there a moment, watching them, then turned and ran toward the front door.
I hurried to catch up with him before he was out the door and gone. I called out to him, and he slowed down to wait for me.
“Tommy, you can come and see the kittens whenever you like,” I said.
“Anytime?” he asked.
“Well, not at three o’clock in the morning,” I said in a solemn tone. He giggled at that. “I’ll wait until four,” he said. I had to smile. Smart boy.
I opened the door for him. I expected him to run out, but he stood looking up at me.
“What is it?” I asked.
Suddenly he threw himself against me and hugged me hard. I patted his head, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Tommy turned me loose and ran out the door.
I shut the door and realized that Diesel was watching me. He meowed as if asking me a question. I stroked his head. “I don’t know yet what I’m going to say to his stepfather,” I told the cat, “but one way or another I’m going to talk to that man and tell him what I think of him for the way he’s treating that poor little boy.”
THIRTY-TWO
I returned home from my visit with Alex feeling encouraged about her progress and the eventual outcome. Her face had lost that sunken look, and her skin had taken on a healthier-looking tone. She was still depressed and prone to self-recrimination, but there were signs of improvement. Before I left, Sean brought Rosie in to her mother, and Alex immediately reached for her baby. After a few minutes, I left the three of them together, saying a silent prayer of thanks.
When I neared my driveway, I spotted Melba’s car parked in front of the house. I remembered she had gone to visit an elderly lady in the nursing home, Ida Norwood. No, that didn’t sound right. Was it Ima? I asked myself as I pulled into the garage. Yes, that was it. Ima Jean
Norwood.
Diesel met me at the door, chirping happily, no doubt informing me that his buddy Melba was here. I glanced toward the table to see Melba sipping from a mug. She was frowning when she looked across the room at me. Her face cleared, and she smiled. “I’m glad you’re back. Tell me, how is Alex?”
“Doing much better, I’m happy to say.”
Azalea came into the kitchen. “She’s doing better?” she inquired.
“Yes, thankfully.” I shared some of the details with them.
“Surely the worst is over now,” Melba said.
“I think so,” I said, “but we have to pray that she doesn’t have a relapse. This is not something a woman recovers from in a day or two. It will take time.”
Azalea said, “I’ll be praying for her, and if she needs me for anything, I’ll be glad to do it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I know how much she will appreciate that. If you have time to visit her, I think she would love to see you.”
“I’ll be sure to go,” Azalea said. “Would you like coffee? I made plenty.”
“Yes, thank you.” I could have served myself, but Azalea bustled toward the coffeemaker. I pulled out my chair from the table and took up my usual position.
While I stirred my coffee, I looked at Melba. Moments before, she had seemed happy about Alex, but now her frown had returned. “What’s the problem?” I said. “Didn’t you get any useful information from your visit with Mrs. Norwood?”
“I’m not sure,” Melba said. “It’s a strange story, and I’m not sure it makes much sense or has anything to do with what happened a few days ago.” She lapsed into silence again.
“I won’t know that until you tell me,” I said to prompt her.
Melba sighed. “Okay, but let me tell it my way, and don’t interrupt me.”
“All right,” I said. “Please proceed.”
“Now, like I told you before, Mrs. Norwood was friends with Billy Albritton’s mother. She lived on a small farm near theirs. This was around seventy years ago. They were all hardscrabble kind of folks, not a whole lot of money. Billy’s daddy and his daddy had to do a lot of hunting to keep food on the table, because there were so many of them. Billy’s dad, Jack, had twelve brothers and sisters, and he was one of the oldest. Jack had brothers and sisters the same age as his oldest kids, Billy and his sister.” She paused for coffee and stared unseeingly in my direction.
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