by Alice Duncan
"Good."
I got the impression his mood had improved. The rat. "Good night, Sam," I said.
"Good night."
"Love you."
"Yeah. You, too."
Men. I swear....
Chapter 24
Aunt Vi was just about to leave the house for Mrs. Pinkerton's mansion when I walked into the kitchen on Friday morning. It was approximately seven a.m. I'd considered what Mrs. Dermott had told me as I'd dressed that morning, and I thought I'd come up with a keen way for Claude Dermott and Sam to speak together about the Wagner case without arousing the suspicions of anyone at all.
Smiling, Vi said, "Good morning, Daisy. I hear you got in late last night. Long choir practice?"
"It was a little longer than usual. Mr. Hostetter is having us sing a really odd Lutheran hymn on Sunday. It's pretty, but it's... well, kind of odd."
"Interesting."
"Say, Vi, I have a really... I don't know what you'd call it. Impertinent? I guess that's as good a word as any. I need to ask you a terribly, awfully, really and truly impertinent question."
Vi had been tying a scarf over her head in order to go out into the cold morning. She stopped and stared at me, her hands at the sides of her head, each one holding the end of the scarf and making her head appear kind of like a large bat. "An impertinent question? Good heavens, Daisy, what do you need to ask?"
"You shouldn't be asking impertinent questions, Daisy Gumm Majesty," said Ma, frowning as she walked into the kitchen. Her scarf was already securely tied over her head. "That's impolite, and I taught you better than that."
Piffle. "I know, Ma, but this is in aid of the Wagner investigation. Mrs. Dermott told me last night that her son heard something that might be important to the investigation, but she doesn't want the people he heard talking to know it was Mrs. Dermott's son who gave the information to Sam." I was getting confused again. Nuts.
"Go ahead, Daisy," said Vi. "Just ask. I'm sure I won't be offended."
"You might be," I told her, probably looking as penitent as I felt. "I wondered if you'd mind having three guests for dinner tonight. That's besides Sam. So it would be five of us and three of the Dermotts, if they're able to make it. I hope the whole family can come, because it will appear less obvious that the younger Mr. Dermott wants Sam's attention if they all attend."
"Three extra people? Without any notice? Daisy, that's—"
"I wouldn't mind at all!" exclaimed Vi, interrupting Ma's objection, bless her heart. "I get off early on Fridays, I'm planning to fix a leg of lamb with popovers, and that's no trouble at all. I'll just have Mr. Larkin deliver a larger leg of lamb than I'd planned for earlier."
Oh, boy, I absolutely loved leg of lamb.
"I'll pay for it," I said, hoping to quell my mother's irritation.
"Nonsense. Mrs. Pinkerton will pay for it," said Vi, laughing. "She pays for most of our meals, you know."
"I guess I did know that," I said because it was true, but I hadn't really thought much about it before.
"She doesn't mind?" asked Ma, blinking at Vi.
"Not at all. She appreciates Daisy so much, she's actually ordered me to charge our butcher's bill to her. Mr. Larkin approves, too." As Mr. Larkin was the butcher at Jorgenson's Market, where all the rich people's servants shopped, I expect he did approve.
Ma turned and looked at me, her expression changing from one of annoyance to one of admiration. "My goodness. I had no idea."
"Well, I guess she thinks she owes us or something," I said, feeling a bit funny about someone else buying our family's meat. That sounds strange, doesn't it? Oh, well. Rich people have always baffled me, and they continue to do so.
"It's thanks to Daisy that we eat so well at our house," said Vi.
"Now that's just not true," I told my aunt, reality smacking me upside the head. "Even if Mrs. Pinkerton bought our meat for all eternity, without you to cook it for us, we'd have died of ptomaine years ago."
"That's the truth," said Ma, ever candid.
"Nonsense. Neither of you enjoys cooking. You have other talents."
"I guess," said I.
"Yes, I suppose so," said Ma.
Spike, who was looking up at all of us with hope writ large in his eyes, wagged his tail. We were in the kitchen, for Pete's sake. The kitchen was where food resided. I guess he couldn't figure out why we were standing there jawing when we were supposed to be eating and dropping things for him to eat.
"Anyhow, we'd best get going, Peggy," said Vi to Ma.
"Want me to drive you to work?" I asked, believing I owed Vi a helping hand even if that hand only steered the Chevrolet.
"No, thanks. I enjoy the walk," said Vi.
"As do I," said Ma.
So they left to go to work, and Spike and I stared at each other for several seconds, my mind running around in circles, kind of like a hamster on a wheel. Spike's mind was on food, so I eventually gave myself a little shake and got busy. I fed him first, of course, and then went to the stove to see if Vi had left anything edible for Pa and me to eat.
Speaking of Pa...
"Where's Pa, Spike?"
Spike didn't answer, but Pa was clearly not at home. He was probably out walking or chatting with one or two of his approximately ten million and three friends.
Bless Vi's heart, she had left breakfast for us. Sausages and scrambled eggs waited for me in the warming oven. So I brought my plate to the table, poured myself a cup of coffee, and enjoyed my almost-solitary meal. Spike got two little pieces of sausage. After eating, I peeled and ate an orange, all the while hoping the telephone would ring. Boy, that almost never happened. But I wanted to hear from Claude Dermott, confound it.
However, the first telephone call I received on Friday morning wasn't from Claude Dermott.
At nine o'clock, after nearly jumping out of my skin when the 'phone rang, I'd just lifted the receiver and said, "Gumm-Majesty residence. Mrs. Majesty speaking," when Mrs. Pinkerton screeched at me. I sighed and held the receiver away from my ear.
"Daisy!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Pinkerton. I hope nothing has happened to put you in a state." Was that going too far, me suggesting she was in a state?
Naw.
"Oh, Daisy, I just heard from Stacy!"
"Did she telephone you from the jail?" Lordy, her old man had escaped from San Quentin once; I hoped Stacy hadn't inherited the escapist gene from him.
"Yes!"
Thank God.
"Oh, Daisy, she's so unhappy!"
As well she should be, thought I. Naturally, those words didn't issue from my mouth. Rather, I said, "Oh?"
"Yes! They're treating her very badly, Daisy!"
As well they should, I thought. I didn't say those words, either. "How are they doing that?"
"They don't let her use the telephone as much as she wants."
Tut-tut. How tragic. Hmmm. What should you say, Daisy Gumm Majesty? Should you be brave and daring?
Why not?
"Mrs. Pinkerton, I know Stacy is frustrated because her freedom has been severely constrained, but you do understand that she was in part responsible for a couple of murders and assisted in a human-trafficking operation, don't you? One involving children? Who were imported into the United States for... immoral purposes? If anyone needs her freedom curtailed, I believe it's someone who's done those things. Do you really believe Stacy should be given her freedom before she learns how to use it properly?"
Harsh words. I hoped Mrs. P wouldn't fire me.
She gulped. I heard her. "I never thought of it precisely like that," she admitted.
"Perhaps you should. It might give you a different perspective about the reality of your daughter's transgressions. She really put her foot in it this time, Mrs. Pinkerton. You must know that. Hasn't Harold told you how culpable Stacy was in the Bannister affair?"
"Yes. Yes, he has. Several times. I... I didn't want to believe him. But then the lawyer told me the same thing."
"A
nd I'm the third person to do so. Well, the fourth, if you count Rolly."
Another gulp. "Yes. Yes, you are. Well... Actually, you're the fifth. Algie told me so, too."
That surprised me. Algie, Mrs. Pinkerton's roly-poly, cherubic husband, didn't appear on the surface to have so much common sense. Just goes to show you can't tell a book by its cover, I reckon.
"My goodness," I said, mainly because I couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.
"Oh, my. To think I should have reared such a child. It makes me terribly ashamed, Daisy."
"Stacy is an adult, Mrs. Pinkerton. She chose her own way. She was on the right path at the Salvation Army, but then she allowed her baser nature to override her new training. Captain Buckingham will do his best to redeem her. And don't ever forget that you reared a wonderful man in Harold."
Was that a little thick and gooey? Aw, so what? The poor woman needed some kind of consolation, and I was pretty sure she wouldn't get it from Harold, who was sick and tired of his mother's conniption fits. I knew she wouldn't get any comfort from Stacy.
"You're right. I know you're right, Daisy. You're so wise for your years."
Tell Sam that, I thought. Then I thought about offering her my services, but I didn't want to. So I didn't.
"Um... Do you think you can come over today, dear? I'd love to talk to Rolly and the Ouija board. And the tarot cards. If you don't mind?"
Gee, she usually considered me to be at her beck and call. Strange.
"I should be happy to visit you today, Mrs. Pinkerton. I do have to wait for an important telephone call, however. As soon as I receive the call I'm expecting, I can give you a firm time."
"Oh, thank you, dear. You're so obliging. Harold keeps telling me I take hideous advantage of you."
Bless Harold's heart!
"I hope you don't think I do, Daisy. I don't mean to, you know."
"I know, Mrs. Pinkerton. You don't take advantage of me." Not hideous advantage, anyway. Besides, she paid me a whole lot of money, and that took the edge off unpleasantness. In other words, I hadn't just uttered a huge lie. Just a little weensy one.
As soon as I'd hung the receiver on its cradle, I resumed being edgy and nervous. Darn it! Claude Dermott had to tell Sam what he'd heard. Didn't he realize that?
I told Pa so when he got home. He'd only been outside picking oranges, and he brought in a basket full of them.
"Oh?" said Pa, looking curious.
"I'll tell you on our walk," I said, nearly biting my nails with anxiety. Not that I'd ever do that. Desdemona Majesty, famed spiritualist-medium to wealthy women in Pasadena, would never bite her nails. Daisy Gumm Majesty would, though, curse it. When the 'phone rang, I uttered a soft scream, leaped out of my kitchen chair and dashed to the instrument hanging on the kitchen wall.
Remembering my profession in time, I spoke in my low, measured spiritualist's voice. "Gumm-Majesty residence. Mrs. Majesty speaking."
"Um, is this Mrs. Majesty?" a male voice said, sounding nervous.
Hadn't I just said as much? Rather than bellowing at the caller, I said, still softly and soothingly, "Yes. Is this Mr. Dermott?"
"Yes. Yes, it is. My mother told me to call you in order to—"
"Yes," I said, cutting him off. How rude, huh? "Please say no more over the telephone, Mr. Dermott. Would it be possible for you and your parents to come to our house this evening for dinner? We dine at six o'clock. The person you need to speak to will be here, too."
My heart hammered to beat the band as silence reigned for what seemed like eons. At last, Claude Dermott spoke. "Uh... You want us to come to dinner? All of us?"
"Yes," I said, wishing the guy were a little quicker on the uptake. Couldn't he understand I was attempting to disguise the fact that he was the one who had the important information to impart? "If your entire family joins us, that would be best." I prayed for him to figure it out before I had a heart attack.
"Oh!" he said, I hoped with sudden understanding. "Oh, yes. Yes, I see. Um, I'll telephone Mother and get back with you. Is that all right?"
"Yes, only please do so quickly. I need to tell a few other people about this meeting. You understand?"
"Um, yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you, Mrs. Majesty. I'll call you back as soon as I can."
"Thank you."
We each returned our receivers to their respective cradles. At least I did so with mine, and I presume Claude did so with his.
"What's up?" asked Pa, eyeing me curiously.
I heaved an enormous sigh and sank back into my kitchen chair. There I explained what Mrs. Dermott had told me the night before and said I hoped we'd have three extra guests for dinner that night, so Claude Dermott could tell Sam his story without possible murderers knowing it was he who spilled the beans. Providing they really were beans and not just... well, nothing.
Pa's eyes widened as I told the story. "Three extra guests? Is that all right with your aunt?"
"Yes. I asked her. Believe it or not, she seemed pleased. I'll never understand her love of cooking."
With a chuckle, Pa said, "We all have our gifts, I reckon."
"That's what Vi said." I wasn't sure I believed it. My own gifts, such as they were, seemed paltry compared with the ability to feed people. I mean, Vi's gift was a life-saving one; Ma's was a useful one. Mine was... silly.
But before I could commence beating up on myself, the telephone rang again. I jumped up to answer it, and was so relieved to hear Claude Dermott's voice, my knees nearly buckled. Guess stress and strain really were getting to me.
"Mrs. Majesty?" he asked for the second time that day right after I'd told him who I was. Again I wanted to holler at him but restrained myself.
"Yes?"
"My folks and I will be pleased to dine at your home tonight. You said six o'clock?"
"Yes. Thank you. We don't dine at a fashionable hour, I guess, but it works for us."
He laughed. "We don't, either, because my father and I have to get up early to get to work. Your invitation is very kind. I've heard all about your aunt's cooking skills."
"You have?" Merciful heavens, Vi was famous!
"Indeed, I have. I think everyone in the city has heard about your aunt and her way with a meal."
I was so pleased, I could hardly stand it. I had to tell Vi what Claude had said when I was through with Mrs. Pinkerton. "Thank you! If you've heard good things, they're absolutely true. She's the best cook in Pasadena."
"So I've heard. My mother was so excited when I told her of your invitation, I thought she might faint, and I know she's telephoning all her friends."
"My goodness."
"Well, maybe she didn't almost faint, but she was sure pleased. And she's definitely telephoning all her friends."
"I'll be sure to tell Aunt Vi," I said.
"Please do. We're all looking forward to dining at your house this evening."
"Wonderful. And will you please bring a list of the people who live..." Rats. I struggled to say something that wouldn't titillate our party-line neighbors. "A list of the fellows who live there?" That was indefinite, wasn't it?
"Oh. You mean... Ah. Very well. You want a list of current residents."
"Yes. Thank you."
"I'll be happy to do that."
"Thank you! And Det—" Whoops! "And my fiancé will be pleased to meet you."
"I'll be happy to meet him, too."
We'd see about that, I reckoned. We said our good-byes and ended the call.
"Oh, my!" said I as soon as the receiver hit the cradle. "I'm so relieved!"
"Guests for dinner?" Pa asked, grinning at me.
"Guests for dinner," said I, and I picked up the telephone receiver again.
"What's up? You don't usually make telephone calls on purpose."
"Have to call Mrs. P. She wants to talk to Rolly. And I'll call Sam, too."
Chuckling, Pa walked out of the kitchen, headed, I was sure, to the living room, where he'd probably pick up Craig Kenn
edy Listens In, by Arthur B. Reeve. He'd just started it the night before. I still hadn't conquered A Passage to India, but that's only because I hadn't had much time to read. I was enjoying the book. Very exotic setting, if you were me.
Anyhow, I called Mrs. Pinkerton, told her I'd be at her home at eleven o'clock—it was then ten o'clock—then called Sam.
"Yeah?" came his gruff greeting when the officer at the front desk had transferred my call to his office.
"You're always so gracious, Sam," said I, feeling positively light-hearted for some reason. I mean, just because Claude Dermott had telephoned didn't really mean anything.
"Yeah. People tell me that all the time," said my beloved.
I laughed. Don't ask me why. "Well, you may become gracious. The Dermotts are coming to dine with us tonight."
"And that's the reason I should be gracious?"
"Yes! Because—" Whoops. Almost forgot again that we had a party line. I'd really have to look into getting a private line. Private lines couldn't be all that expensive. Could they? I didn't know. "Yes, because you'll get to have leg of lamb and popovers tonight! With guests."
"We're going to dine on the guests?"
Trust Sam.
"Yes, Sam, darling. We're going to have leg of lamb for the main course and eat the guests for dessert."
"Sounds great. The usual time?"
"The usual time."
"Excellent."
He hung up. I swear....
Chapter 25
Mrs. Pinkerton enjoyed our time together.
I'm lying. She was a total wreck. Mind you, this condition wasn't unusual for her, but she'd been almost cheery after the séance I'd held at Mrs. Frasier's home. I hadn't expected her mood to last, and that Friday morning I was proved correct. I wasn't happy about it, but I'd anticipated it.
After Rolly and the tarot cards had told her the very same things they'd told her countless times already since her evil daughter's arrest and incarceration, she bade me a teary farewell. I tried to be as soothing and consoling as I could be, and then I scrammed out of her drawing room and nearly ran to the kitchen.
My wonderful aunt had prepared lunch for me!
"Oh, Vi, I didn't expect you to fix lunch! Why, you didn't even know I was coming."