‘Been trying to catch your eye. Need to talk to you.’ Her voice drilled into Gwen’s ear. ‘Has to be quick as it needs to be before those two show up – if they ever do. That way!’ She directed her stick at the doorway to the foyer and once out there darted into the den, saw that it was unoccupied and gusted a relieved sigh. ‘Ideal! Here they can’t catch us by surprise. If the doorbell rings and it’s them we scoot.’
‘I assume you’re talking of the Cullys,’ said Gwen mildly after checking her watch. ‘Perhaps they don’t consider six thirty late if Evan told them dinner would be served at seven.’
‘The later the better, although if they don’t come at all it’ll be shame on them. I was going to see if I could get together with you and Twyla, but I know she takes Oliver to church and then on to see his grandpa. And I’ve been itching to spill the beans of what I got from Robin Polly this morning. Don’t go taking offence that I’m asking you to hold your horses and let me steam ahead. The nub of the matter is the aunt and uncle don’t have full ownership of the Cully Mansion. A half share is held in trust for Oliver until he’s eighteen.’
‘Oh!’
‘Robin P got that info straight from Miss Emily. Seems the old girl confided in her. Who else did she have? Even better, Robin was one of the witnesses to the will, as was Miss Emily’s longtime doctor – so there couldn’t be any suggesting she wasn’t in her right mind at the time. Wanted every “I” dotted and “T” crossed. The house and its contents, except for the scrimshaws, went into trust for Oliver’s grandfather for his lifetime and then on the grandfather’s death to his descendents. Max and Gerard!’
‘But Max died. Will Oliver get anything?’
‘Oh, my, yes. Oliver is a descendant of his grandfather and after Max died he and Gerard each became entitled to a half share, but Oliver can’t get his until he’s eighteen. I was right about Max’s parents cutting him out of their will and assumed that went for the Cully property as well.’
‘Interesting!’ Gwen was still assimilating. Did Twyla know the relevant point of Miss Emily Cully’s will, but had not felt free to pass on the information? Or had Frank Andrews kept it to himself? She thought the latter unlikely.
‘And now to a nifty little update. Robin noticed that a small silver carriage clock was missing from the table beside Miss Emily’s four-poster bed that’s still weirdly in the living room and she mentioned the absence to Elizabeth.’
Gwen felt it incumbent to interrupt. ‘I was there, on my visit about the garden club, when Robin brought up the clock. And Elizabeth’s response seemed unreasonably heated.’
‘Small wonder as it turns out.’ Nell was practically prancing, if such a word could be applied to a ninety-year-old, without the aid of her stick. ‘That got Robin’s dander and suspicions up. Particularly as she felt strongly about that clock, said it had a verse engraved on the front and Miss Emily had told her Nathaniel gave it to his wife on their fortieth wedding anniversary. Devoted to each other, they were. And it hadn’t taken long for Robin to get right fond of Oliver. Calls him Mr Pal. Making her grim determined – besides disliking his uncle and aunt, her in particular – to look out for his interests. So she takes to searching round to see what other items that might have gone missing and came up with a dozen or so; ones she could be sure about, that weren’t where they’d been in the china and curio cabinets. So she does the rounds of places like Grandma’s Attic, but no luck. Now we get to where I came in.’ Nellie did another bounce. ‘When she’s spilling the goods this morning I thought of the shop in Dobbs Mill, right near the spiritualist church I go to. It seemed to me that if Elizabeth has been selling the stuff she’d be a fool to do so in Sea Glass.’
‘Absolutely,’ Gwen concurred. So far, as luck would have it, none of the other guests had strayed into the foyer.
‘So I told Robin to hop in my car – hers is an old clunker and I can better afford the gas and I’d drive her out to Dobbs Mill. And – you’ve guessed it – bingo! The sign outside the place says Fine Antiques, which looked true of some of the stuff, but there’s also a lot of what the owner called “collectibles” that I’d call junk. Said most of his trade is summer tourist-based, not the local. The church being the kind it is, along of providing readings and séances, draws people from away. Anyhow, it didn’t take Robin long to spot not only the clock, but most of the other items. Good thing I always keep a few thousand in my checking account so I could buy back the lot. Came to a pretty penny. The man knew his stuff and in a way that’s good, or else some of the things might have gone before we got there.’
‘What a blessing.’
‘I’m rushing, but one more thing. And it’s real suggestive. Robin came up behind Elizabeth on her cell phone on Thursday in time to hear her ask the person at the other end if he, or she, would still be at the gallery in Boston next week, instead of the one in New York, because if so she’d come down for the day on Tuesday. That’s when she got wind and turned round. Robin told me if looks could kill she’d a bin splattered like a fly to the wall.’ Another jig. ‘What you think of them apples?’
The doorbell rang.
Nellie dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘That has to be them. I’ll show you and Twyla the reclaimed treasure soon.’
Gwen was the one to open the door, recognizing Elizabeth of course but seeing her husband for the first time. He was a tallish man with thinning dark hair and hunched shoulders and arms pressed close to his sides, giving the look of a schoolboy who had been summoned due to an infraction at the principal’s office. But for the posture he would have been quite good-looking. ‘How good that you could come.’ Despite her crowded thoughts, Gwen greeted them with her serene smile as they stepped inside. ‘Sarah and Evan have told me how pleased they are at the opportunity to meet you both.’
‘Nice to see you again, is it . . . Mrs Garfield?’ Elizabeth was glancing around. If not for the box of chocolates in her hand, she could have been a potential house purchaser mentally taking measurements.
‘Garwood. Not that it matters, my memory is now such,’ Gwen accompanied this with a laugh, ‘that I forget who I am on occasion.’ Nellie had not exited the den, and a guest came out of the kitchen and opened the door to the half bathroom. Wafting toward them was the hum of conversation.
‘Nice of you to take it that way. This is my husband, Gerard.’
He proffered a damp hand and introductions were exchanged. To Gwen he appeared in something of a haze, although she did not catch the whiff of alcohol. He could merely be shy or otherwise socially awkward – the latter could also be said of Elizabeth in her own way.
She was dressed very much as she had been on that other occasion – a long, loose skirt and matching top. But today her earrings – long, modernistic ones with hammered metal rounds, becomingly enhanced the Bohemian arty effect. Even to the extent of making the tangled hair appear artfully achieved rather than insufficiently combed, as indeed might be the case. The addition of lipstick made her look an attractive woman. ‘I realize we’re late arriving, but Gerard lost track of time at his computer.’
‘I don’t have one, too lazy to attempt getting the hang of them.’ Gwen saw benefit in sounding verging on doddery. The less eyes and ears the Cullys felt upon them the better. Oliver came out from the kitchen at that moment and was greeted by his aunt and uncle in a casually affectionate manner – that couldn’t be faulted. No one could expect them to meet him with faces wreathed in smiles and rapturous exclamations when he’d only been gone a couple of days.
‘Hello,’ said Oliver. ‘Everyone’s glad you could come. How’s Feathers? Said anything yet? I haven’t had any success so far.’
‘Nothing when I’ve been around.’ Elizabeth shrugged a peach linen shoulder, then looked at her husband.
‘Still incommunicado when I’ve been around too.’ Gerard’s attempt at a joke, if that’s what it was, suggested he might be weaving his way out of his befogged state, and Gwen, determined to be as objective as possible, gave
him points. His personality couldn’t be termed instantly objectionable; he was neither overtly full of himself nor disdainfully aloof, both of which she always found off-putting.
‘I’d come looking for you, Gwen,’ said Oliver, ‘to let you know I’m about to ring the bell to announce dinner is ready.’
‘Well, we wouldn’t miss that for the world! Why don’t you escort your aunt and uncle and introduce them to Sarah and Evan, while I help Nellie Armitage out from the den where she’s been taking a short rest.’
During the half hour or so that followed Gwen caught only an occasional glimpse of Elizabeth and Gerard. There were the initial merges around the dining-room table, one group following another. And afterwards still a good deal of coming and going. She overheard a good many compliments of Twyla’s shrimp Creole, amidst favorable comments on other items, including the sautéed fiddle-heads, for which, after fifteen years in Maine, Gwen had never acquired a taste. Those she did not attempt but everything she tasted was excellent. During and after the meal she engaged in several enjoyable conversations. Particularly with Anne Sullivan, a relation of Mr and Mrs Plover, who worked for them at their grocery store. While recounting the delights of her recent visit to New York, Gwen had noticed Elizabeth looking up at the abstract painting above the fireplace while talking to Sarah. Was she saying it looked to have been done by a child? True in regard to origin, given that Sarah’s niece had painted it at a very young age. Gwen liked it.
It was now closing in on eight, and Elizabeth and Gerard had seemingly disappeared. Sarah and Evan thought they were either in the kitchen or out on the patio, and regretted they had not had more time for fruitful moments with them. Gwen’s one observation was that, at least from the little she had seen of husband and wife, they were both drinking diet soda. Not necessarily revealing in itself, had she not overheard Elizabeth say, with perhaps undue emphasis while gesturing with a can in her hand, that such was the beverage of choice with them.
Gwen was standing near the opening to the foyer while others now gravitated toward the kitchen to collect dishes and serving-ware preparatory to leaving, when she saw Oliver at the bottom of the stairs with Dusk in his arms. It seemed unlike him to have gone and collected her before all the guests apart from herself were gone. He was still standing on the step when she stood looking up at him.
‘Anything the matter, dear?’
‘I guess someone went into the bedroom by mistake and let her out. Gerard came up to me a few minutes ago and asked if I’d seen Elizabeth because it was time to leave and he hadn’t seen her since she went off to the bathroom what seemed like ages ago, and he was getting worried because she’d said she’d had one of her headaches coming on.’ Oliver stroked the cat while talking. ‘So I went and knocked on the one down here, but nobody answered and when I turned the handle it was empty. I thought if Elizabeth had found that door locked, she might’ve gone upstairs. When I checked that bathroom there wasn’t anyone using it either. That’s when I saw Sarah’s bedroom door was open and suddenly Dusk slipped by from the other end of the hallway. And here’s where I caught up with her. I was about to take her back up and close her in for safety, when I started thinking about Elizabeth. Wondering if she’d returned before Gerard started wondering why she wasn’t back, only he didn’t realize because she was in another room from him.’
‘Very likely, Oliver. But there’s more, isn’t there?’
He gazed at Gwen with something approaching fear in his eyes. ‘When I looked in the bedroom to see if Dusk was still there, I noticed something.’
‘Let’s go into your bedroom and you can tell me, dear.’ She was guiding him up to the hallway. Several people had already emerged into the foyer. She opened the door, and upon his entering with Dusk, closed it.
‘Will it look rude if I don’t go down to say goodbye?’
‘To your aunt and uncle?’
‘They’re the ones I want to avoid; I’d feel uncomfortable right now.’ Oliver put Dusk on the bed where she immediately curled up on the pillows, and sat down on it himself. Gwen joined him.
‘Then don’t feel guilty. No one else matters.’ She placed a hand on his. ‘I’m sure our absence will go unnoticed. Tell me, dear, what’s troubling you?’
‘You won’t think I have a wickedly suspicious mind?’ His lovably round face turned to her in appeal.
‘Never.’
‘OK, then.’ He squeezed her hand before placing both his own palms down on his legs, fingers cupping his knees. ‘When I saw the door to Sarah’s bedroom gapped open her dressing-table lamp was on. And it hadn’t been when Evan and I left Dusk in there. I noticed that at once, even though I was upset that she’d gotten out. Somehow I was so sure she had because I didn’t think to look under the bed. There was something else about the dressing table.’ Oliver’s hands shifted as if prior to gripping them, and then re-flattened. ‘Sarah’s wooden jewelry box had been moved. It was still in the middle, but it had been pushed back against the mirror. I remembered exactly where it had been because Evan and I dusted that room this afternoon. He did the other furniture and I did the dressing table and he joked about it being a fair deal, because if I didn’t put everything back in precisely the same place I could be in hot water. He said women tended to be very fussy about that area of personal space and that when he was a boy his mother wouldn’t let him go within a yard of her dressing table, for fear that just by standing looking at it he’d send hairpins flying from their appointed dish.’ A smile touched his mouth. ‘I like talking to Evan. In lots of ways he’s like Grandpa, especially when it comes to words. I wish there was time for them and Sarah to really get to know each other. Has Sarah shown you that amazing wrap blanket she knitted with Grandpa on it?’
‘Not yet because you had to be the one to see it first. I’m so glad she and Evan are going with you and Twyla to visit him after church tomorrow.’
‘Evan said he thinks she should teach both of us to knit. He says he read or heard somewhere that it’s now manly and it could give me an extra leg up when I’ve grown up and meeting girls. I told him I’d like to get married someday, but she’d have to be kind.’
‘Important.’ Gwen understood that Oliver was reeling out the moment before going back to what was distressing him.
‘I’d only want a wife that likes children. And let me have a dog and a cat. Sarah told me you’ve talked to Jumbo’s breeder about a puppy for us . . . I mean for her and Evan. I love Jumbo and Dusk.’ He stroked the sleeping cat. ‘I suppose if my wife wanted a bird I’d have to deal with that, but I’ve really tried to get fond of Feathers and I can’t, however long I stand talking to him. It’s sad for him; he should be with someone who loves him, instead of just making sure his cage is cleaned, and he always has enough water and seed, and can reach that calcium thingy from his perch.’
‘Perhaps it would make the talking part easier if you recited poems to him. I’m sure with your memory you know several by heart.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ His smile flickered again. ‘Evan says there’s a great one called The Walrus and the Carpenter in Through the Looking-Glass. But for the time being I could recite one of Pooh’s hums. They always make me feel happy and safe.’ A pause, during which the little flame went out. ‘About that jewelry box, Gwen.’
‘Yes, dear.’
His hands were again on his legs, but the grip on his knees was tighter than before. ‘I know what you have to be thinking, it’s what I’d figure in your place – that Sarah went into her bedroom after Evan and I finished dusting, and moved it herself. But I don’t see why she would have done. Those earrings she has on this evening were the ones she’s been wearing all day. Same with her watch.’
‘Perhaps she couldn’t remember where she’d put either before taking her shower and did what we all do in frustrated moments – start searching any likely place, even while knowing we didn’t put the item, or items, there. But that’s not the issue, is it, Oliver? You think someone went into Sarah’s b
edroom, either by accident or out of curiosity, and in the course of poking around may have stolen something from that box. And your dreadful fear is that someone was Elizabeth.’
He nodded, unable to look at her.
‘Do you know of anything in that box that was of special value to Sarah?’
Now he looked at her, tragedy written on his face. ‘A ring that belonged to her great-grandmother. It had diamonds in it and some other stone. Yesterday afternoon Sarah got a phone call from her ex-husband. And afterward she told Evan and me what it was about. He’d thought his mother had given Sarah the ring and wanted it back. I guess it’s quite valuable. She explained his mistake and I expect he felt a fool. She hasn’t been wearing it because it needs fixing and she should get it into a jeweler instead of leaving it languishing in the . . .’
‘Jewelry box on her dressing table,’ Gwen finished for him. ‘And will have felt safe doing so, home burglaries in Sea Glass being few and far between. I understand your panic Oliver; what we need to do is go tell Sarah so she can take a look and see whether or not the ring is missing.’
‘If it is gone there’d have to be a police investigation. It would be terrible if it turned out Elizabeth was the one who stole it, but at least then Sarah would get it back. It would be even worse if it never turned up. The never knowing for sure whether it was my uncle’s wife who did this to her.’
Sea Glass Summer Page 28