by Joan Hess
My body felt heavy, and it was an effort to swing my legs over the side of the bed. The walls seemed to be trembling, as if there were an earthquake of minor magnitude. The side of my face was sore from the impact, but there was no dried blood or hint of a bump. The flawlessness of my complexion did little to mitigate my embarrassment. I considered the possibility that my blood sugar or blood pressure had plummeted for an unknown reason. I’d sweated like a waterlogged sponge during the hike. Dehydration could have caused the light-headedness.
I decided to find a bathroom and slurp water from the faucet. I rose, waited for my knees to assume their duty, and walked to the door. The knob turned, but the door would not open. Telling myself that it was stuck, I yanked as hard as I could. It failed to yield more than a centimeter. I realized that Nattie had hooked it on the other side. She might have worried that I might stagger out and take a dive down the stairs, I told myself as I sat down on the bed. The dehydration theory seemed less and less probable as I thought over the previous events. I hadn’t faltered during the sprint to the delivery truck, nor had I felt any discomfort afterward. I’d almost finished the glass of iced tea, which should have revived me. Au contraire, I thought darkly.
There was no point in pounding on the door of what had been Moses’s bedroom. Presumably Nattie was aware of my predicament, having caused it from the moment she doped my iced tea. I seemed to have recovered with only a headache. I refused to allow myself to think about Terry Kennedy, who hadn’t. I scolded myself for being duped by Nattie, with her wide grin and cinnamon rolls.
I crossed the room and raised the window. I leaned out as far as I dared. No rogue heroes with dimples were waiting in the shadows. Within twenty minutes, it would be dark. I searched the room for a makeshift weapon. The lamp was too cumbersome to assure accuracy. I found galoshes in the closet, along with Moses’s scant wardrobe, but no golf clubs or lacrosse sticks. Clutching a rolled-up newspaper from nineteen forty-five that trumpeted the bombing of Hiroshima, I put my ear to the door. I heard low voices. In that no one was shouting, I ruled out Charles. Felicia would not be there, either, unless she’d stabbed her husband and rolled his body down to the stream. I was ready to eliminate Pandora Butterfly for obvious reasons but caught myself. Dancing naked in the field could have been a ruse to convince everyone that she was harmless. I’d seen her harder side. It had not been an act.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I weighed my chances of overwhelming Nattie with a brittle newspaper and then hurriedly got into the bed and feigned sleep. Peter had once accused me of snoring, which was absurd. I opted to snuffle just a bit. “Claire?” whispered Nattie. “I brought you a cup of tea.”
I breathed slowly and deeply, as if I were entangled in the arms of Hypnos while Morpheus perched on the end of the bed, cheering. Nattie may have missed the aesthetics, but she closed and hooked the door. I waited for a few minutes and then resumed my position at the door. The discussion continued. I had a very bad feeling that I was at the top of the agenda. It did not seem prudent to linger until they arrived at a decision.
The drop from the window was not a viable choice unless I was willing to risk broken ankles. I yanked the sheets off the bed and began to twist them. It was the standard escape technique in fiction, and often successful. I tied the sheets together, tied more knots for my feet to slow me down, and then tossed my makeshift rope out the window. It landed in a jumbled puddle on the grass. “Oops,” I said under my breath. There was clearly more to the scheme than I’d remembered. I was leery of pacing, since the floorboards would creak. I wondered if I’d end up like Angela. My car was not camouflaged with branches, and the car keys were in my purse. My car would be found in some deserted clearing in a nearby county. I hoped my body would not be found in the same area. Being buried in Maxwell County was an insult. Nattie might not believe in ghosts, but I would make her life intolerable. Stealing a piece of pie was child’s play. She would never drink a glass of tea without looking over her shoulder.
I stopped myself from edging into hysteria. I was glib, I was intelligent, and I was much wilier than they could ever expect. Ethan, who had to be one of the perpetrators, had muscles, but he was mellow. Nattie could outbake me, but I was quicker. Whoever else was downstairs would not anticipate my artful feints. I would make it outside and then run like a bat out of hell.
My adrenaline was pumping when the door opened. I grabbed the newspaper and lunged at the door. Jordan neatly stepped out of the way and caught my arm before I crashed into the wall. She closed the door and pushed me back to the bed. “You’d better sit down, Ms. Malloy. You look pretty awful.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked between gulps.
“Letting you out.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I rubbed my face until I felt calmer. “Why are you here?”
She shrugged. “Inez called me and said I should watch out for you. I saw what happened in the backyard. I couldn’t use the front door or the kitchen door, so I opened the window in the storage closet and wiggled inside. I had to wait forever before I had a chance to come upstairs. Why did you throw the sheets on the ground? Was that a signal?”
“Of course,” I said firmly. “It’s a distress signal used by the armed forces. How do we get out of here?”
“Can I spend the night at your house?”
Her bargaining chip was much larger than mine. Once I’d nodded, she said, “There’s a back staircase. Once we get to the ground floor, we can go out the same window.” She assessed my body. “It may be a tight squeeze.”
“I can assure you that it will not be any sort of squeeze,” I said, offended. “Who’s downstairs?”
Jordan shook her head. “I just heard voices. Do you want me to go eavesdrop?”
“Let’s just get out of here, okay?” I gave her a nudge. The back staircase was next to a linen closet. The boards groaned like haunting Hollows as we picked our way cautiously to the bottom. Jordan led the way to a cramped closet and stepped on an upturned bucket. Her body sailed out the window before I could blink. I eyed the bucket. It was plastic and had cracked over the years. The room reeked of ammonia. Unable to take a deep breath, I stepped on the bucket, offered a prayer to Greg Louganis, and propelled myself out the window. My landing was not flawless. Jordan pulled me to my feet and grabbed my hand. I limped as quickly as I could to the edge of the woods.
Once we were safe, I examined my body for protruding bones and copious bleeding. My knee was raw, and my ankle throbbed ominously. I felt more clearheaded, however. “Inez called you?”
“Yeah, she was stoned out of her mind on pain meds. I thought she was joking, but she convinced me that you were here and liable to get yourself in trouble.”
Being rescued by a fourteen-year-old was barely palatable. “You did a good job, and I thank you. I need to stay here for a few more minutes. We can meet at Winston’s house. Don’t turn on any lights.”
“Miss out on the fun? I don’t think so.” Her smile was angelic as she gazed at me, but we both knew that she wasn’t waiting for my permission.
“Will you at least stay right here?” I asked.
She ran across the yard and disappeared into the bushy plants alongside the house. I said something that was unseemly and then limped until I caught up with her. We crawled under the foliage until we reached the kitchen window. Jordan peered inside and then sank down. “Aunt Margaret Louise is drinking whiskey from a flask. Charles and Felicia look like they’ve been stuffed. The taxidermist used yellow glass marbles for their eyes. It’s really funny, Ms. Malloy. Look for yourself.”
I ignored her invitation. “What about Ethan and Nattie?”
“Ethan’s sitting at the table, looking pissed. I didn’t see Nattie.”
She started to rise, but I caught her wrist. “Nattie must be upstairs, wondering what happened to me. I engaged the hook on the door, so she’ll assume I went out the window.”
“Right up until she notices that you’re not
sprawled facedown in the grass, whimpering in pain.” Jordan started to giggle, but I clamped my hand across her mouth.
“That’s enough, young lady. This is serious. Go to Winston’s house and call Inez. Tell her that I said to contact Lieutenant Jorgeson immediately. If you don’t, you’ll be sleeping in the mill until the geese migrate for the winter.”
“What about you? I rescued you once. What if they catch you again?”
I poked her chest. “Go, Jordan. I’m going to wait twenty minutes, then go inside for a chat with those people. I’m counting on you.” I gave her a hug and a push. “Stay at Winston’s house.”
Her lower lip was out, but she ran across the grass and into the woods. I leaned against the stone wall and watched my wristwatch. I heard Nattie asking if anyone wanted more tea. If she’d mentioned my absence, I didn’t hear it. Ethan said something that made Charles sputter. His obedient wife said nothing. It was a family council meeting, minus Pandora, who was likely to be twirling in the moonlight or careening down a highway on the back of a motorcycle. I was forced to admit I’d made an egregious error about the power structure—as well as about Danny Delmond. My nearly perfect record was tainted, if not besmeared. I idled away ten minutes trying to come up with bona fide excuses for my minute lapses in detective prowess. The next ten minutes were devoted to putting together the puzzle pieces.
When twenty minutes were up, I crawled out from under the bushes, ran my fingers through my hair, and walked through the kitchen doorway. It was definitely a showstopper. Nattie turned pale and grabbed the counter to steady herself. Charles shot me his customary glare of contempt. Felicia looked down at the floor. Ethan sloshed tea from his cup, splattering his overalls.
Margaret Louise was the only one who seemed delighted to see me. “Oh, hello, my dear,” she trilled. “Back again so soon? You must join our little party. Nattie’s gingersnaps are divine.” She fluttered her fingers at me. “What have you been up to lately, you naughty thing? Nattie told us that you broke into one of the delivery trucks. We’re debating about calling the police. What do you think?”
“I’ve already called the police,” I said.
“Let me fix you some tea,” Nattie said hastily. “You seem very agitated. Tea is so soothing, don’t you think?”
“Especially when it’s laced with an herbal concoction,” I said. “You should have used something lethal, like you did with Terry.”
She approached me. “Claire, you’re not making any sense. It’s possible that you had a stroke earlier this afternoon. I insist on calling an ambulance. Sit right here and try to stay calm.”
“Terry?” said Felicia, startling all of us. “Nattie did something to Terry?”
“To Terry, and to Winston,” I continued. “He was a threat to the family business—or should I say the family plot? You all were afraid that he’d realize what was going on and call the feds on you. His family ties were shredded when he was growing up here.”
“Balderdash!” Charles thundered. His face turned red, and bubbles accumulated at the corners of his mouth. “Winston Martinson was a sinner in the eyes of an angry God! He had no business coming back here to taunt us with his—his so-called friend. Terry was nothing more than a prostitute!”
Felicia dumped her tea on his head. “Why don’t you just shut up for once in your life? Everybody’s sick of listening to your bigoted tirades.”
“Quiet!” he said, trembling so violently that I had hopes he might levitate.
Her response was terse yet colorful and does not bear repeating. It was adequate to reduce him to rumbling, thus ruining my pipe dream.
Margaret Louise poured a dollop from a flask into her teacup. “Can you back up those accusations, dear?”
“I have all the proof I need,” I said levelly. “I thought all of you needed to hear the truth.”
Nattie laughed. “My herbs have gone to your head, Claire. I would never harm Winston or Terry. Exactly what proof do you have?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, “tell us.”
The spacious kitchen was getting smaller. The air was laden with unspoken threats. It occurred to me that I might be making my third egregious error of the day. I studied their faces for any hint that I had an ally. Felicia, possibly, I thought, although I couldn’t count on her to grab a skillet and defend me. I was getting increasingly uncomfortable, but I willed myself not to blink as they watched me. Whatever might happen, I vowed, I would not sweat.
17
I crossed my arms. “How long have you been smuggling cigarettes from Missouri? Years, I suppose. The state taxes there are much lower than the ones in Arkansas. The markup is more than eighteen dollars a carton. I don’t know how many cartons are in a case, but there would be a nice profit for you as well as for the vendors. If you happen to come across a truck with a load of untaxed cigarettes, somewhere in the vicinity of Cuba, the profit’s higher. I don’t believe that loud thumping noise comes from a washing machine or dryer. You have some sort of machine in the basement that puts on counterfeit tax stamps.”
Felicia was the only one who looked shocked. “Is this true?”
“No way,” Ethan said. “You’re off your meds.”
I waggled my finger at him. “I was going to get around to you later, but now’s as good a time as any. You were having an affair with Angela Delmond.” I paused to make sure I had everyone’s attention. “You two met at Winston’s house whenever you could. She had to be cautious because of the divorce. I’d like to think that Pandora was home while you were carrying on with Angela. You do have a responsibility to your children.” Who might burn the house down, left unattended. “It was convenient, wasn’t it, Ethan?”
Charles leaped to his feet, his fist raised. “Blasphemy, Mrs. Malloy! Husbands and wives do not violate the sanctity of their vows! Furthermore, Ethan is a direct descendant of Colonel Moses Ambrose Hollow. He would never sully the family’s name!”
This time Felicia bonked him on the head with a saucer. “If you don’t shut your mouth and sit down, the conversation’s going to get a lot more interesting. I’m not the one who has an account at Victoria’s Secret.”
Her unspoken threat was effective. Charles plopped down like a sack of turnips and gazed at the floor.
Ethan was not so easily cowed. “You have no evidence. You need to be restrained in a padded room until you’re coherent. As Uncle Charles said, I’m a married man with a family.”
“You’re right about the evidence,” I said, “but the police are thorough. Are you going to be able to explain why your fingerprints are on the bedside table? There might be DNA in the silk sheets.” I politely disregarded his expletive. “It took me a while to realize that you had to be Angela’s lover. You saw her SUV turn on the driveway to Winston’s house, and you were worried. You made a call to Angela on her cell, probably demanding an explanation or threatening to expose the affair, and told her to meet you at your house immediately. She must have thought she could deal with you and be back at the house in less than five minutes. Otherwise, she would have fetched me and coughed up a plausible reason for us to leave.”
“Ethan?” Margaret Louise said. “Is this true?”
He tried to stare me down, but he was woefully inept. “So we were sleeping together. No big deal. Pandora insists that we adhere to the Kama Sutra. It’s fine if you’re twenty years old, but I work all day at the nursery, lifting heavy plants and weeding on my hands and knees. It was nice not to have to contort myself like a three-legged pretzel.”
Charles’s ears quivered, but he kept his head lowered. Felicia covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Margaret Louise felt no such restraints. Only Nattie watched somberly from her position near the sink.
“If I may continue,” I said, “Ethan lured Angela away from the house and bashed her with a shovel. Her SUV was put on a truck and abandoned in Maxwell County. Her body was stashed in the outbuilding with the cooling unit. When I started asking questions, Ethan buried her in the pot patch. D
id you hope that you could implicate Pandora?”
Ethan was too stunned to offer a rebuttal. I allowed him to squirm while I listened for cars pulling up outside. I heard a whip-poor-will and a tree frog. I furtively glanced at my watch. Jorgeson should have arrived ten minutes earlier. Nattie’s unblinking stare unnerved me. I had no choice but to continue.
Meeting her stare, I said, “Winston must have confided his suspicions to you. You lured him to the stream. Everything was fine until you and Ethan found out about the deed that gave Terry the right of survivorship. Maybe Winston had told you about his concerns, or maybe not. Terry was a threat, because he was going to sell the house to the wife of the deputy chief.” I was loath to delegate myself to a subsidiary menace, but I had to admit it made for a better story. A story that I needed to keep unraveling until the police arrived.
Nattie raised her eyebrows. “I do think that I should call an ambulance. You’re making no sense, Claire.”
“Moses rarely made sense, did he? You told me several times to ignore his garrulous ramblings, and most of the time I did. He did, however, have lucid moments. When Terry was on the kitchen floor, writhing from the onset of the poison, I saw Moses on the terrace. I asked him later why he’d been there, and he told me that he wanted to have a word with Terry. He must have known that Terry had arrived the previous night. I could offer a hypothesis of what he wanted to tell Terry, but it doesn’t really matter. It was about nine o’clock at night when Terry got to the house, and I showed up soon after that. Moses wandered home to the Old Tavern to have his milk and cookies before bedtime. The only person with whom he might have shared his news was his devoted caretaker.”
Felicia, Charles, and Margaret Louise were watching with perplexed expressions. Rather than confront Nattie, I looked at them. “Nattie had access to the house, as all of you did. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but she’s the only one with the knowledge to poison the vodka with an elusive substance. Earlier in the week, Lieutenant Jorgeson told me that the lab had ruled out the garden-variety poisons. He meant arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide, things like that. When more testing is done, I believe it will actually be something from the garden. You were digging up daffodil bulbs this afternoon, Nattie. Were some slivers destined for my next cup of tea?”