I was going to disagree, but didn't. Maybe she was right. Maybe there were things I had said and done that I didn't want to expose.
"Whatever," Rose said. She took a deep breath and smiled. "We had a good time nevertheless, and with everyone around everyone else giving support, we called boys we dared not call on our own. I remember I was sorry the night came to an end. We all fought sleep until we were too exhausted to keep our eyelids open. Everyone was dragging around so dreadfully the next day, our parents thought we had participated in one wild party. I remember my mother saving, "Darlin'. you look like you chased Mr. Sandman out of your bedroom forever."
All three of us were smiling at her, actually feeling quite envious, as if keeping yourself up all night talking and flirting with boys over a telephone v.ras a rich, wonderful experience. Maybe it was. Maybe we had somehow missed out on so much.
I lowered myself to the floor and laid my head on a pillow.
Cinnamon was talking, describing what it had been like for her when her mother had been committed to a mental clinic after she had miscarried. It was a sad story, and interesting, too. but I was having trouble keeping myself awake. The food, the wine, the emotional tension made me very sleepy.
And then, suddenly, the feel of Ice's hand squeezing my ankle popped my eyes open.
"What?"
"Shh," Cinnamon warned. Everyone was quiet. A dark shadow moved over the window,
"He's back." Cinnamon whispered.
My heart began to pound like a parade drum. Cinnamon edged closer to the wall and slowly, ever so slowly, began to lift herself toward the window.
We scrunched down and crawled up beside her. She held her hand out to be sure we were still.
"Someone is out there," she whispered. "That's definitely no shadow or spirit."
"Oh, no." Rose moaned.
Then Cinnamon leaped up, throwing the window open at the same time.
We all stood.
Someone rushed off the ledge and up the ladder.
"Who's out here?" Cinnamon yelled. 'What are you doing here?"
She started to climb out.
"Wait," Ice said. "Maybe you shouldn't."
"We've got to." Cinnamon insisted. She went onto the fire escape ledge. Ice followed, and then I did the same. Rose hung back in the window,
"Look," Cinnamon said, pointing above.
We saw a figure climb the flight and step up on the ledge above. Whoever it was disappeared into the open window.
"That's on the side of the house off limits to us," Ice commented.
"Not anymore," Cinnamon said and started toward the ladder.
"No," Ice said, holding her back. "You'll make a big scene."
"We should."
"Maybe not yet,' Ice said.
"This is disgusting. A grown man doing something like this, and a well-known theatrical agent. too," I said.
"Let s deal with it tomorrow. We'll just approach Madame Senetsky and hand her the ascot," Ice said. "Let her handle it. It's her problem. too."
Cinnamon stood there, deciding, and not making an effort to come back m' side.
"What would you do anyway? Climb up the ladder and go through that window? Please," Ice begged. "Come on back inside."
She and I crawled back into the room. Cinnamon still lingered, looking up.
"Cinnamon?" Ice said.
She remained a moment more and then followed us in. Ice closed the window behind us.
"I don't think he'll be back after this." I said.
"I should have gone up," Cinnamon insisted, her eyes on the fire escape.
"Madame Senetsky will still believe us," Rose said. "Won't she? We'll all be able to tell her what we've seen. She's got to believe it if all of us tell her. right? Cinnamon? Right?"
"Yes. Okay," Cinnamon said, frustrated and angry. She turned to the door. "Let's go back to our own rooms now and get some sleep." She paused. "You all right. Rose?"
"I think so," Rose said.
"Keep the curtain closed tight and forget about him." I said. "Okay. Thanks, everyone," she replied in a small voice. We started out, closing the door softly behind us.
"He won't be back. That's for sure, isn't it?" I asked Cinnamon. She stood there, her eves darkening with thought.
"I don't know. There is something very odd about all this. Look at the hour," she said, holding up her watch. It was close to midnight. "He doesn't live here. right? Why would he be here so late and how would he explain all this to Madame Senetsky?"
"What are you saving?" Ice asked. "That's his ascot you have hidden in your room, isn't it?"
"Yes, but..."
"But what?" I asked her.
She put her finger to her lips so I would speak more softly. "Whoever that was wasn't wearing any shoes," she said.
"What?" Ice asked.
"He was barefoot," Cinnamon insisted. "I saw bare feet flash against the metal steps."
We were all quiet.
"Why would he be barefoot?" Ice finally voiced.
"And the feet," Cinnamon said.
"What about them?" She turned to me.
"They looked...small."
"You mean it was a child?" Ice asked.
"I don't know what it was, who it was. I mean."
"What the hell is going on out here?" we heard, and saw Howard in his doorway. "You're keeping me up." He was standing in his pajamas. "What are you doing? Planning your assassinations again?"
"We're not doing anything exciting. Howard," Cinnamon said. "Rose had a nightmare."
"Really? Must have been the wine."
"Right," Cinnamon said.
"Howard." I said.
"What?"
"Your barn door is open," I said. remembering Uncle Peter's sense of humor.
"What?" He grimaced.
"And the cow is about to leave."
He looked down at his pajama pants and quickly closed the door.
How good it felt to laugh.
Even if it was only for a few seconds.
6 Looking for Answers
"I think it was Laura Fairchild." Cinnamon whispered to me at breakfast the next morning.
"What was? Who?"
Cinnamon drew closer to me before answering, even though we were alone. Howard was in the kitchen getting his breakfast. Ice. Rose. and Steven were not yet down.
"On Rose's fire escape last night," she said. "I thought about it for quite a while before I fell asleep last night. I went over and over what I saw and I'm convinced that the bare feet I saw were the feet of a woman." she concluded.
"The feet of a woman? I don't understand. And anyway, why Laura Fairchild?"
"Who else could it have been? It wasn't Mrs. Churchwell or Mrs. Ivers, and it certainly wasn't Madame Senetsky. The other servants don't sleep here."
"But Laura Fairchild? Why would she do such a thing? And what about the ascot that belongs to Edmond Senetsky, that had his cologne on it?"
She shook her head.
"I can't answer any of that yet, but I don't want to do anything or say anything until I can, especially to Madame Senetsky."
We both looked up as Rose entered. She looked tired, but somewhat excited.
"My brother Evan contacted me early this morning," she whispered as Howard returned to the table. "I asked him to use his computer to do some research on Madame Senetsky and her husband after Howard told us that fantastic story."
"So?" Cinnamon asked.
Rose revealed some pages she had printed off her computer. "What's that?" Howard asked.
"Notes on yesterday's food and wine lecture. Howard. Don't you remember? Were having a test this afternoon about it?" Cinnamon said,
He froze for a moment and looked from Rose to me and then to Cinnamon.
"You're kidding. right?"
'Of course not. Howard. We don't fool around when it comes to our careers." she replied.
He stared and then he shook his head and sat. "You're all wacky." he muttered and started to eat.
After a moment we returned to the pages. I looked over Cinnamon's shoulder and began to read.
It was a reprint of some news stories about Madame Senetsky's husband Marshall and his apparently very unexpected suicide. Friends and business associates were quoted as being taken by complete surprise, one associate claiming he had just been talking to him on the phone a short while earlier and had no indication of unhappiness. Madame Senetsky had no comment and avoided the press.
According to the news stories. Marshall Senetsky's body was found slumped over his desk in this very house. He had shot himself and had not, according to the articles, left any note explaining his action. However, because of the forensic evidence, the police investigation had concluded it was suicide.
Some people conjectured about the Senetsky fortune, but evidence indicated there were no serious financial difficulties. All of the articles mentioned that surviving him were his wife and son Edmond, who at the time was only nineteen years old. There was no mention of the daughter who had died.
"Evan is going to continue to dig for us," Rose whispered. She glanced toward Howard, who was pretending not to try to hear what we said.
"Wait until later," Cinnamon told Rose, her eyes on Howard. She folded the pages and handed than back to Rose, who went for her breakfast.
Before Ice and Steven arrived. I left for my early session with Mr. Berman. My lesson went well, and he gave me the music he wanted me to prepare for our next session. Essentially, we had completed what he had called the basics and were now going to begin a study of more involved compositions.
On my way back upstairs, I ran into Rose, who looked very distraught. She was rushing to get to her dance session, but she looked frantic, her face already as flushed as it would be at the end of her exercises.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Oh. I'm so stupid. Honey. I don't know how I could have forgotten it. but I did and when I went back, it was gone."
"What?"
"Those pages on Madame Senetsky's husband's suicide," she said. "I put them beside my chair on the floor and ate my breakfast. Then Steven and Ice arrived and Ms. Fairchild burst in to give us the weekend's schedule. Yours is up in your room. I got so involved listening to it because there's not a moment in there for me to meet up with my boyfriend Barry. We're all going to a play on Friday night and then a matinee on Saturday. That night we go to a dinner with Madame Senetsky at Monsieur
Rambaud's restaurant so we can show off our new knowledge of wine and food, and then we're off to the ballet. On Sunday, we're going to lunch and then immediately to the Museum of Modern Art for most of the afternoon. We return here for another special dinner and start of another week. I thought I'd have Sunday afternoon off at least!" she cried, her arms up in frustration.
She shook her head.
"I guess it got me so upset. I forgot what I had brought down and went upstairs to get ready for my dance class. I was up there twenty minutes before I realized what I had left in the dining room, but when I rushed down to get it, it was gone! I asked Mrs. Churchwell if she had seen the pages, but she said she hadn't."
"You mean when you and the others cleared off the table, you didn't realize it was there? No one did? I can't believe that. One of the boys must have it. Did you ask Howard?"
"Actually, he and Cinnamon left before Ice. Steven. and I did. I know Steven didn't have it. I must have kicked them under the table or something, but they're gone. Where could they be?
Could someone have just thrown it all in the garbage?" I shook my head.
"I don't know. What does Cinnamon think?"
"She worries that Ms. Fairchild might have found it or someone else did and gave it to her. She thinks she would give them to Madame Senetsky." she moaned.
I didn't want to say it. but I thought that was very likely. I tried to ease her concern.
"Why would she do that?"
"Why? We're living in a prison." she wailed. "Spied upon in every which way and I don't mean just Peeping Toms. I can't even get an hour to see my boyfriend. I'm terrified about asking Madame Senetsky to let me have any time off."
She shook her head, sucked in her breath, and hurried on to her class.
I looked after her, thinking about what she had said. Cinnamon suspected the silhouetted person on the fire escape was Ms. Fairchild. Could Rose be right? Could it be we were all being watched? How bizarre. I thought.
The remainder of the day was uneventful. I still half suspected Howard had swiped the pages, but if he knew anything, he didn't reveal it. Rose remained depressed and anxious. We tried to cheer her up, but her boyfriend had called and expressed how disappointed he was, too.
"Y'all know what happens when you can't see them, don't you?" Rose asked. No one wanted to answer, even though everyone knew what she meant. "They find someone else who is able to see them. I can't blame them. either."
"I'm sure you'll have free time next weekend," I said. Neither Cinnamon nor Ice looked optimistic about it. 'He'll wait. He'll wait if he really cares for you.
"I described the same situation to Chandler and he understands," I went on. "It's a bigger trip for him coming in from Boston. and he wants to be sure he can spend a lot of time with me before he comes."
"Well, good for you," Rose said, her eyes welling up with tears. "I didn't mean..."
She turned and walked quickly out of my room with her arms folded, her head down.
"Rose..."
"Leave her go," Cinnamon said.
"But I didn't mean to make it sound like my boyfriend is better than hers."
"The way she is right now. she's goin' to jump down anyone's throat "
I told her what Rose had said concerning our being in a prison, being under glass.
"Maybe you're not so wrong suspecting Ms. Fairchild," I said.
"Suspecting her of what?" Ice asked. and Cinnamon told her. She grimaced and shook her head.
"It all seems so spooky." I said.
"That's not spooky. That's downright sick. And what about the ascot?" Ice asked. "How does it figure into this?"
Cinnamon shook her head,
"As I told Honey. I can't explain it." She thought a moment and then nodded. "There's only one thing to do."
"What's that?" I asked.
"One night we've got to climb the ladder and look into those windows above us."
"It's not where Ms. Fairchild stays," Ice reminded her. "That window is in the private residence. If Madame Senetsky finds us up there peering into her apartments, we're all going to get the boot."
"Right now, I'm not so sure I would mind," Cinnamon retorted and walked off.
She almost got her wish. An hour later. Laura Fairchild came upstairs to tell us we were all to report immediately to the parlor.
"What's this about. I wonder?" Howard asked as all of us headed down the stairs..
"Maybe some of the silverware is missing," Steven quipped.
Ms. Fairchild told us to take seats and wait for Madame Senetsky. Rose looked from me to Cinnamon and Ice. She looked absolutely terrified.
Howard rose quickly when Madame Senetsky entered. Steven jumped up a moment after he had.
"Sit," she barked as if they were both dogs. They did so quickly.
Everyone was very quiet. She stood straight, firm, her cane in front of her, both hands on it.
"From time to time. I have someone under my wing who doesn't belong. When you all first arrived. I told you success in the arts consisted of sixty percent raw talent. The other forty percent really comes from character, charm, inner strength. Your teachers all agree that every one of you has the gift of talent, but alas. I am afraid that not every one of you has one or more of the other ingredients."
She paused and turned to Laura Fairchild, who practically leaped forward and handed her Rose's computer pages.
"Who left this in the dining room for my servants to find?" she demanded, holding up the familiar pages.
"What is it?" Howard asked.
"
It's that aspect of this business I despise: gossip, invasion of privacy. everything that dehumanizes us. Well?" she asked again. "Who put this in the dining room?"
Rose began to stand, confession written on her face. "I found it in my closet." Cinnamon said quickly.
"What?" Madame Serietsky replied. "Your closet?"
"Yes. I didn't know what to make of it. Someone must have left it there. I brought it down to give to Ms. Fairchild. but I forgot and left it on the floor."
"It was found next to Rose's chair," Laura Fairchild said skeptically, glaring at Rose.
"What is it?" Howard asked again.
"I passed it over to Rose, who looked at it and then put it away when the others came to the dining room," Cinnamon said, making up her lies as fast as questions could be asked. "That's why Howard keeps asking what it is," she said, looking at him. "He didn't see it. Neither did Steven. right. Steven?"
"I didn't see anything," he declared. "I don't know what this is all about."
"Well, what is it?" Howard cried.
"I'm sorry, we left it there. Who was in my room before me?" Cinnamon then asked. "Whoever that was must have forgotten it when he or she left the school."
"That's ridiculous. Those rooms are cleaned until they are spotless after each group of students leaves us," Laura said.
"Well, someone missed a spot. It was at the back of the closet. I wouldn't have found it myself if I didn't have a dress fall off the hanger."
Madame Senetsky stared at her and then panned all of us. Steven looked absolutely confused. Howard looked annoyed.
Rose shifted her eyes guiltily away, and Ice and I looked down.
"The least I would expect from all of you is loyalty," Madame Senetsky said. "Loyalty that comes from sincere appreciation. I would hate to learn that one or even more of you were not grateful for this opportunity," she said, "Leaving something like this about my home is not a way to show it," she added, shaking the papers.
"Are those old news stories true?" Cinnamon bravely asked.
Madame Senetsky straightened her back into a pole of steel and glared down at her.
"That is not your concern here. Your concern is development of your talents, nothing more, nothing less, and certainly not to take dips into the pool of nasty gossip. Is that understood?"
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