by CeeCee James
My age. Interesting. I was certain she couldn’t mistake the Reverend Bay’s age for mine, not with his liver spots and wrinkles.
Who did she see, then?
Chapter Twenty-Three
I sent Sophia inside to get her goodies, and meandered out to the herb garden to gather the mint. When I returned, Sophia was already off, and Marguerite still writing.
“Man, alive. I’m so thankful the gala is over,” Marguerite said and fanned herself. “It will take me weeks to recover.”
“You’re thankful? Think of me.” Cook harrumphed as she seasoned chicken for lunch.
“I seem to remember you doing a lot of sitting yesterday since Miss Janice had a whole team of chefs to get the job done,” Marguerite retorted back.
“You can’t deny she hired extra servers for you,” Cook jabbed back.
Instead of continuing to spar, Marguerite simply slipped off a shoe to stretch her arch. “Those scalawags hardly had proper service etiquette. I must let her know to use a different agency next time.”
“It was a beautiful night,” Lucy said, swiping a cutting board clean. “I thought it ran like clockwork.”
“That’s true. Better than the last dinner where every guest popped away from the dining table like a bunch of gophers. And then with the Reverend Bay arriving late, I hardly knew how to get the timing of dinner service,” Marguerite said.
I didn’t remember that, having been told to turn down Miss Janice’s bedroom. “People left the table?”
She nodded and rubbed her foot. “Yes. First Andy, and then later Austin. It’s lucky any of them had hot food at all.” Sighing, she slipped her shoe back on. “Which reminds me, today we need to dust the cigar room.” Her glance cut towards me. There was a moment of hesitation, almost as if she shot the question to me through the air. Then she asked, “Can you handle it?”
What was I going to say? All the women looked at me, so of course, I nodded. What could my excuse be anyway? That I was too creeped out to be in the room the police crawled over for clues and then had been personally cleaned by Marguerite. It was a no-win situation.
As I walked out of the kitchen, the wind blew a curtain through a cracked open window, startling me. Then, the tea kettle screamed, causing me to jump. Cook arched her eyebrow. Good grief. This uneasiness of mine did not bode well.
I was so mad I’d been scared by the tea kettle I marched straight into the cigar room. The room was understandably filled with a solemn air. I didn’t expect to see the couches and lounge chair covered with white sheets. At the end of the wall stood a tall piece, narrow as my body and as tall as my head, all shrouded in white. I yanked off the cover, only to see a face staring back at me, white as a ghost.
I squealed and stumbled back. A split second, heat filled my cheeks as I realized it was actually my reflection.
“You’re acting like a chipmunk with rabies,” I whispered. I grabbed a cleaning rag and a bottle of polish and started to furiously dust the wainscoting.
And then my angel appeared. After a little scratching sound, Hank nudged the bottom wainscoting board open.
I sank to the floor, relieved to see him. “Hank! Come here, buddy.”
He actually obeyed and came over to bump his little coconut head against my arm. His beautiful eyes blinked at me warmly.
“Hey, sweetheart. Did you sense I needed a friend?” I chucked his chin and bent to kiss the space between his ears.
He stepped on my thigh for a moment, his paws supporting what felt like fifty pounds as they dug into my muscle. After leaning up to give my face and a hair an airy sniff, he climbed back down to do his own investigation.
I followed him for a moment, but he didn’t seem to discover anything new. As much as I wanted to find a new clue, nothing materialized.
I ran the vacuum as Hank watched from his perch on the arm of the couch. After I finished, I started on the windows.
“You know,” I told the cat, “this really is quite the puzzle.”
His ears twitched.
“Did you know both Andy and Austin left during dinner service? Where do you think they went? You think they both just needed the restroom?”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” Mary joked from outside the doorway.
“No,” I replied indignantly. “I was talking to Hank here. So you think I should invite Mrs. Fitzwater out to tea so we can quiz her a bit more? I’m kind of nervous after that whole high tea thing. I feel like we are still missing something.”
“Yea. Invite her to the coffee shop for lunch or something. That takes away all of the tea protocol.”
I thought about it, but I knew how Mrs. Fitzwater sniffed at coffee. Carefully, using what I hoped was proper tea etiquette, I sent the invite. While I typed, Mary crouched down by the cat. “How in the world did he get in here?”
I pointed to the wainscoting, which could be seen nudged open an inch. “There are pathways all throughout these walls. It’s kind of creepy, really.” Suddenly, I had an idea. “Want to see one?”
She shivered. “Inside the walls? I’m not sure.”
“Come on,” I coaxed, after giving Hank a last scratch. I left the cleaning supplies where they were and led Mary two doors down to the study.
After shutting the door, I beckoned her over to the far wall.
“In here?” she asked, eyeing the empty bookcase. She’d been the one who’d shown me how to get to the secret garden behind it.
“Not the one, and it’s not nearly so nice of an entrance.” I went over to Hank’s cupboard. With a little pizzazz, I opened it up and waved my hand.
She sucked in her breath. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m serious. Go inside.” I nodded encouragingly. “You have your phone?”
She nodded, her eyes huge.
“Use it for a flashlight. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Girl,” she muttered but crawled inside on her hands and knees.
I felt excited to finally have someone to share this strange secret with. I followed through the crack and into the wall to find her slowly shining her light around. She whistled low.
“You have to be quiet. I actually heard Miss Janice once from the other side of the wall. I imagine they can hear us as well.”
“Disturbing,” she muttered. “You think someone’s been in here?”
“I don’t know about here, but this does connect to a tunnel a little way down,” I whispered back. “I followed it out to some abandoned garden shed.”
“No way!” Her breath came out in a huff.
“Yeah. Just keep going.”
As silently as possible, we followed the path through the twist and turns. I watched Mary shiver and pluck a cobweb from her arm and thought she’d give up then. But she pressed on. She was like me and wanted to know answers.
We came to the ladder, where she sent me one more questioning glance before she climbed down. I followed after her.
“I think we’re under the house now,” I said, brushing my hands off.
“You think Mr. Thornberry knew about this?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I think he actually made them. I remember Cook telling me once that he loved his cubbies and secret rooms.”
We followed the tunnel toward the direction of the dripping water. The same puddle was there, although slightly smaller. Still, the mark of the footprint stood out in my flashlight beam. “See what I mean?”
“Whoa. This freaks me out.”
“And look.” I bent down and pointed. “Hank’s paw print.”
“So, either the cat came with him, or he investigated later.”
I nodded. “I found a cigar wrapper down here as well. It’s why I asked if Andy had been poisoned by a cigar.”
“Where does this come out at?”
I flashed the light. “Just down there.”
“Let’s go see.”
We crept down the tunnel toward the door. It opened just as stiffly as last time. The two of us pushed on it and st
umbled into the shed.
Mary spun around, her eyebrows raised. “This is unreal.”
“The entire outside of this shed is hidden by bushes. So someone has to know it’s here to come in.
She walked over to the rubber boots and lifted one up. “Look. It’s the same tread print as the footprint.”
I examined it. She was right. “And is that a hair inside?”
She flashed her light on it. “Either that or someone with incredibly long, blond leg hair.”
“Har, har,” I said.
She grinned.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out to read, and panic flooded through me. “It’s Mrs. Fitzwater. She said she’d love to have tea with us and instead invited us to her house today.”
“When?” she asked.
“During our lunch break at two.”
I glanced at my phone. That was in thirty minutes. And I was a hot muddy mess. “We have to book it!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After I accepted the invitation, Mrs. Fitzwater said she would be sending her car. We decided to leave the shed and go up the hill rather than travel back through the house. Luckily, no one saw us enter. I gathered my cleaning supplies from the cigar room, noting that Hank had once again disappeared, and then hurried upstairs to change into clean clothes.
I quickly redid my hair and swiped on some lipgloss before running back down the stairs. At the landing, I gave the chess piece statue a pat, and as always, walked down the last flight.
Then I needed to find Marguerite to let her know I would be leaving the estate for lunch. I peeked into the parlor and the sitting room but had a hunch I would find her still in the kitchen.
I was right. She sat with Cook at the table, the two of them spooning up what smelled like delicious chowder.
“Ah, Laura Lee, you’re just in time.” Cook waved her spoon in the direction of the stove. “Lunch is on. Help yourself.”
“Actually, Mary and I are both leaving for lunch.”
“Leaving? Where are you going?” Marguerite asked, her relaxed expression immediately replaced with forehead wrinkles.
“We’re meeting with Mrs. Fitzwater… for tea,” I tacked on.
Marguerite’s brow puckered even more with worry that perhaps I’d overstepped social protocol or, even worse, made a gaffe in my invitation. I wasn’t insulted. I knew Marguerite was like the grandmother of the bunch and old school when it came to being proper. Rather than try to explain, I handed over my phone so she could read the interaction for herself.
Of course, she couldn’t see a thing, despite holding the phone at arm’s length away. Cook rolled her eyes and passed over her readers, which Marguerite delicately perched on the end of her nose. Her lips moved as she scrolled through the messages, and then she passed the phone back.
“You handled that well, despite my doubts. Of course, I’m all up in arms since I’m leaving for vacation next week.” Marguerite sighed.
“What do you mean you’re going on vacation?” I demanded. I couldn’t believe it. Was that what Miss Janice had been talking about all this time?
“Well, it’s high time, don’t you think? Miss Janice is having my temporary show up this afternoon so I can train her. It’s why I’ve been doing all that writing of my work list for. What linens to use when, and what-not. It’s been quite the chore.”
“Like we can’t do it ourselves,” Cook huffed. “I remember the day this house ran without a head housekeeper.”
“Proof humans were around when dinosaurs lived.” Marguerite raised her chin in superiority.
“You saying I’m old?” Cook demanded with a scowl.
“I’d never say that. I’m asking if you and Moses were cousins, is all.”
Cook squinted her eyes. “I have it on good information that you are two years older than I am.”
“Says who?” Marguerite frowned.
“Says Miss Janice.”
“Well, even she can be wrong sometimes.”
“I’ll see you guys soon,” I said and left them squabbling with each other.
Mary already waited for me out in the foyer. Apparently, she was cold and wore a sweater over her dress. She shrugged it closer. “Like my ugly sweater?”
“Beautiful, dahling,” I drawled back in my best actress impersonation. I set my phone’s alarm for when we needed to be back and then suggested we walk out to the gate to wait for the car.
As we approached, I noticed something red in the grass. I bent over and picked up one of those weird rocks I’d seen days ago.
“What do you have there?” Mary asked.
I showed her, rolling it in my palm.
“Weird. I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid.”
My eyebrows raised. “You know what this is?”
“Sure. It’s lava rock. Not very common around here, but my grandparents used them in place of mulch when I was little.”
“We found a bunch of these stuffed into the gate the morning after Andy died.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Stephen and me. Actually, I found one in the middle of the road, and he was picking these broken bits from the track.”
“Someone tried to jam the gate then?”
“Yeah. The Reverend Bay said he could barely get in because the gate wasn’t working.”
Just then, Mrs. Fitzwater's town car drove up. The driver pulled over at the gate and climbed out to open the door. It might seem silly to get a car to drive to the next door neighbors, but these estates were huge—hundreds of acres—and we had a limited amount of time for lunch.
He drove us through Mrs. Fitzwater’s beautiful gates, where we were greeted at the stairs by the butler and an open door. From there, we were swept into the garden room where the loveliest lunch spread waited for us on a crisp white tablecloth.
We were seated, and then the butler left to inform Mrs. Fitzwater we had arrived. A moment later, she glided in, a gauzy cape floating off her shoulders.
“Ladies,” she greeted pleasantly. “How are you doing today?”
“Great!” I said, with Mary echoing the sentiment.
Mrs. Fitzwater passed us a white china plate. “Please. I know your lunch break is short. Let’s get to business, shall we?”
With little silver tongs, she piled our plates with sandwiches. There were tiny canapés, crab salad on yeast rolls, turkey with bacon, avocado on toast points, and more. After that, she poured the tea and settled back with an expectant smile. “Well? Tell me everything.”
Mary glanced at me in panic. I felt the same. Mrs. Fitzwater was obviously expecting a report. I attempted to fix the misunderstanding. “I’m sorry. We’re not exactly here to give any news. Actually, we had a few more questions.”
She nodded and stirred her tea. “Of course. How can I help?”
Relief outpoured with my exhale that I hadn’t upset her. I swallowed and continued, “We’re trying to track down all the people that were close with Andy. So far, I’ve spoken with the Reverend Bay and Austin. We even met up with Clint after finding out Madeline had dated him after Andy. I had another conversation with Madeline. She said she’d been fired recently? So that must be the job before the tea house.”
“Yes, that’s correct. With your digging around, you might have seen that she used to work at the lawyer firm.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “The one where Andy worked?”
“That’s where she met him, I assume.” She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. “But when he ended it, he had her fired as well.” She sighed. “She would have done anything for him. I think she still held hope that they might work it out. And he was opportunistic enough to work that to his advantage.”
“So sad,” I said.
“And the Reverend Bay mentioned he was late to the dinner?” Mary asked.
“He was. It was the strangest meal. First, Andy left the table. He was gone for an extraordinary amount of time. I assume he was already sick. Then the Reverend Bay
showed up. Boom! Austin left. Eventually, Andy returned. The meal felt like it lasted forever.”
“And then what happened?” I asked.
“Then the grandfather clock chimed. Janice stood up and said it was ten o’clock. Time for cigars and after dinner beverages. We all retired to the cigar room. Andy was lucky, really. He only just made it back without a minute to spare.”
“I see. And what about Clint? We did find it curious that, as a paralegal, he wasn’t working with Austin and Andy.”
“Clint wasn’t employed at their agency, but trust me, he was working for Andy.”
“I remember you said he needed the money. Was he running investments for Andy?”
“I’m not really sure. Don’t most young men of that age need money? I never bothered with Andy’s investment deals after what he did to me.” Mrs. Fitzwater sighed. “It’s too bad, really. Love of money leads many down long, torturous paths. I mean, look at Andy. He used to be such a lovely boy. He used to adore me reading to him. Hardy Boys, believe it or not. Kind, considerate little man. And then the money bug bit, and he would do anything for it.”
“Like date Madeline to get her husband’s insider investment information?”
“Exactly.” She dabbed under her eyes with her napkin.
“I’m so sorry. Would you like us to stop?” I asked, my heart squeezing.
“No, of course not.”
Mary reached over and touched her arm. “I know this must be so painful, but can you tell us one more time what happened in the cigar room that night?”
Mrs. Fitzwater took a sip of her tea. She set it down and breathed deep. “We all went into the room, which at the time felt rather cozy. Janice’s butler filled the snifters and passed them about while we sat. I was on the couch. Andy chose one of the armchairs. Janice started some conversation about the gala she was holding in a few days, and we rather enthusiastically chimed in. I wasn’t paying particular attention to Andy, but I do recall him opening a cigar. He had an interesting cigar cutter, and he pulled it out of a pocket right here.” She pointed to her lapel. “On one end was a guillotine, but on the other, I swear, was one of those little memory sticks. What is it called?”