by Patricia Fry
“Well, today, I’m prepared for anything…except maybe high tea with the princess.” Iris stepped aside and made eye contact with her friend. “She won’t be serving high tea, will she?”
Savannah shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She laughed. “But you might be wearing strained peas after lunch.”
“Yeah, that’s sorta what I figured.” Iris said, chuckling.
“Hi, Detective Craig,” Arthur said upon entering the living room. He rushed to shake his hand.
Craig was equally cordial. “You look good, son.”
“Yeah, I’m ready for the paparazzi,” he quipped. “If they’re going to snap my picture, I might as well look my best.”
Craig laughed, then said, “Arthur, I’d like you to meet my wife, Iris.”
“Hello, Arthur. I’ve heard a great deal about you. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Thank you,” the boy said. “You, too.” He looked at Iris and then at Savannah. “You’re tall, too.”
The two women smiled at one another. Iris said, “Yes, we’re the tall gals—only I’m taller.”
“Not today,” Savannah said, straightening.
“Not fair, you have on heels,” Iris said.
“What are you, five-ten?” Arthur asked, looking up at the two women.
“Good guess,” Iris said.
Arthur bent over, picked up a toy, and handed it to Lily, who sat in her jumper chair. “I expect to be taller after my surgery. The doctors say that with therapy, I can train my body to stand straighter after they repair the scars that are sort of cramping me up and making me stoop like this.”
“You’ll probably be almost my height, don’t you think?” Savannah suggested.
“Maybe,” he said. He looked at Iris, then glanced down the hallway. “You’re going to stay here with Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have a cat. Wait—let me get her.”
Iris nodded. “Yes, I’d like to meet her.”
When he returned with Koko, he told Iris, “Don’t let her outside. Her litter box is in my bedroom, so don’t lock her out of there—but don’t let Lily crawl in there. If you don’t mind, you can give her quarter-can of the cat food in the fridge at lunchtime.”
“Sure will,” Iris said.
Craig bowed and motioned toward the front door. “Off we go, ladies and gent.”
Once the four of them were buckled into the car, Craig asked Arthur, “Has anyone contacted you?”
The boy shook his head.
“I’m surprised,” he said. “Well, maybe you won’t be called to the stand today, but if you are, just remember to tell the truth as you can remember it, okay? Answer the questions. If there’s something you don’t know or can’t remember, just say so. No worries, now. Just be truthful.”
****
It wasn’t until the third day that Arthur was called to the stand. The tools Rochelle had taught him had been working well, but he hadn’t been fully tested until then. He was silent on the way home.
“Something wrong?” Craig asked quietly as Savannah and Ruth chatted in the backseat about their impressions of the court officials and proceedings.
Arthur glanced back at the women. “Two things, actually.” He thought for a moment before asking Craig, “Did you see that accountant?”
“Oh, Mr. Wilkerson? Yes. He was on the stand on behalf of Charles Peyton’s character and spending habits. What about him?”
“He needs some of Ms. Rochelle’s magic,” the boy said, solemnly.
Craig furrowed his brow. “How’s that?”
“Didn’t you see how he looked at me? Even when he was on the stand, he glared right at me.” He hesitated. “At the break, I was coming back from getting a bottle of water and he walked up and pushed me against the wall with his body—making it look like he accidently bumped into me. But before he apologized loud enough for those close around to hear, he threatened me.”
“What did he say?” Craig insisted.
“Something like, ‘I’m going to get you, kid. No one ruins my life and gets away with it,’”
Arthur mimicked.
“He did that?” Craig asked. “At the courthouse? That had to be unnerving. What did you do?”
“I just stood there for a minute and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I guess no one did, so I went looking for you guys. By then, it was time to go back into the courtroom.”
Craig grimaced. “That’s not right. What’s wrong with that jerk?” He sat sullenly before saying, “Maybe he lost more than just his commission when you fired him.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.
“Maybe he was skimming money out of the estate and Charles Peyton was too busy playing king-of-the-castle to notice.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Arthur paused before saying, “I didn’t like him from the beginning. There was something about him I didn’t trust. But why he’s taking it out on me, I can’t figure out.”
“It’s human nature for people like him to look for a scapegoat when they hit a rough spot, rather than take responsibility for their own actions,” Craig explained. “He sure looked bad today.” He glanced at Arthur as he drove. “You know, I met him that once and I thought he was going to be helpful to you. But today he seemed different. I wondered if he was ill or something. Looks like he’s lost weight and hasn’t slept in a month. And, Arthur, that is not your fault. Whatever is going on with him is not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”
The boy nodded. “Thanks Detective,” he whispered.
Craig glanced briefly at Arthur. “How did you feel while you were on the stand today? You seemed to be in control.”
“Okay, I guess. As you know, I wasn’t able to remember anything other than what I told the police three weeks ago—that Charles Peyton’s mother left us alone near the inlet and a wave washed over the bank and knocked Karen into the water. I tried to save her, but the water was too rough.”
Craig nodded. “Yes, and that later that weekend, you got caught in the fire at her house. That’s all you can remember, huh?”
“Yes, except that…”
“What? Is there something else you remember?”
“Well, there is something I’d forgotten until today.”
Craig squinted in the boy’s direction. “You forgot something?”
“No, I remembered something. But I’m not sure if it was part of my nightmare or if it was real. It’s not clear.”
“What is it, Arthur?” Craig coaxed.
“I’m afraid to say something because I don’t know if it’s real or not.” He shook his head. “I feel all mixed up—like there’s an arm-wrestling match going on in my head.”
“Arm wrestling?” Craig asked, chuckling a little.
“Yes. I’m…well, I’m confused.”
“Can you tell me what it was that you remembered?” Craig asked.
Arthur took in a deep breath. “I’d rather talk it over with Ms. Rochelle first, if you don’t mind.”
Savannah, overhearing the boy’s comment, asked, “Arthur, did you say you want to talk to Rochelle again?”
He nodded.
“Well, let’s see if we can work something out.” She touched Craig on the shoulder. “We go right past Peter’s gallery on our way home. She’s usually there working with him. What do you think about…”
“Sure. See if you can contact her. I’ll check with Iris,” he said, initiating his hands-free phone device.
Fifteen minutes later, the foursome slid out of the car and headed for Peter Whitcomb’s art gallery. Savannah stepped inside first. When she spotted Peter walking toward her, she approached him for a hug. “It’s beautiful, Peter. I love the arrangement,” she said, taking it all in. “It’s quite different than the way you displayed your art when we visited you in Los Angeles. I really, really, like it—it’s big-city classy.”
Just then Rochelle joined them. “It is nice, isn’t it? An
d the reviews are great.”
“Oh my, you do wonderful work,” Ruth said. “What do you think, Artie?”
“It’s a lot better than my art and mine are paint-by-number,” Arthur joked.
“Hi Arthur,” Peter said, reaching out for the boy’s hand. “Rochelle told me she got to meet you.”
“Oh, hi.” He looked at Peter. “You’re the artist?”
Peter nodded. “Do you see anything you like?”
“This one with the horses,” Arthur said. “And that one of the ocean behind the trees. I saw a scene like that in a movie once.” He thought for a moment then asked, “Is that Big Sur?”
“Sure is,” Peter said. “Ever been there?”
Arthur looked him in the eyes. “I haven’t been anywhere…well, except for a few places when I was quite young. I remember going on an ocean voyage with my parents when my dad was alive, but I don’t recall where we went.” He shrugged. “I guess I was too little.”
“So, Arthur, you want to see me?” Rochelle asked.
He looked at Craig and back at Rochelle. “Yes.”
Craig stepped forward and explained, “It seems that something happened today.” He looked at Arthur. When the boy didn’t speak, he continued, “He evidently remembered something important, but he doesn’t know if it’s real or part of a dream.”
Rochelle made eye contact with Arthur and said, “Peter, could we…?”
“Yes,” he said. “You two go into the lounge. I’ll lock up and take these folks down the street for a beer.”
“Hey, sounds good to me,” Craig said. “Only, I’m the designated driver of these important people, so just one and I’ll have it with some chicken wings or something.”
An hour and a half later, Rochelle and Arthur joined the others at the restaurant-bar. “What happened?” Savannah asked, when she saw the pair approaching.
Rochelle shook her head, her eyes downcast.
“Can we just go home?”Arthur asked.
“Do you want something to eat?” Craig offered.
He shook his head. “I really need to just go home, if you don’t mind.”
****
“So, what happened?” Savannah asked Rochelle later that evening on the phone.
“I’m not sure. I think there was a breakthrough for him and he isn’t ready to see it. Sometimes that happens. The conscious mind resists or challenges what the subconscious is showing us. When the session was over, Arthur simply retreated. I do hope he returns, because I think he’s close to finding the answers he seeks.”
“Only he’s not quite ready to acknowledge or accept them, right?” Savannah asked.
Rochelle let out a deep sigh. “That’s right. But don’t press him. Let him work through this on his own. He’s struggling just to get through each day right now.”
“Okay, I’ll be in touch,” Savannah promised. Before ending the call, she said, “Thank you so much, Rochelle. You’re a lifesaver—maybe literally.”
“So what is wrong with him?” Ruth asked quietly when Savannah joined her in the living room.
“Rochelle thinks he had a breakthrough and isn’t ready to talk about it. She suggests we just leave him alone for now.”
Ruth sat with her own thoughts for a moment then she said, “I have a lot to learn, too.”
“Like what?” Savannah asked.
“Like not running to Artie every time he has a crisis. He is no longer a little boy. He must be free to figure things out for himself—in his own way.” She stared toward the hallway and then brought her focus back to Savannah. “How is it that you know Rochelle and Peter Whitcomb?”
Savannah smiled. “Michael went to college with Peter. He contacted us out of the blue earlier this year and invited us to vacation at his beach house near Los Angeles. Peter actually met Rochelle while we were down there and she and I hit it off.” She paused. “Peter experienced some…changes in his life about that time and decided to move his studio to Frisco. Rochelle came with him. Oh, and when we were staying at the Peyton mansion those few days and Rags got lost, she helped us stay on track and find him.” She looked at Ruth. “I trust and admire her, or I wouldn’t have recommended that Arthur talk to her.”
“She seems…nice, and Artie likes her,” Ruth said. She frowned. “I hope she can help him with those nightmares. He has had them for a very long time.”
“I do too,” Savannah said. “I do too.”
The two women sat silent for a few moments and then Ruth said, “It has been quite a week, has it not?”
Savannah nodded. “Sure has.” She faced Ruth saying, “I was surprised to see how really small Charles Peyton seems in the courtroom.”
“I know what you mean,” Ruth agreed. “He was all…how do you say…pomp and circumstance, anyway, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, good description,” Savannah said, laughing. “All that hot air has been knocked out of him.” She paused, then said, “I sure wasn’t looking forward to seeing Henrietta Peyton. Glad she was guarded and handcuffed. Wouldn’t want her coming after me again.” She turned to Ruth. “You were close to her; did you ever know her to be vicious like she was the day she attacked me?”
Ruth looked down at her hands. Finally, she said, “She’s a troubled woman. I think you might even say tortured.”
“Have you known her for a long time?”
“Yes, as I told you, her first husband, Mr. Spence, hired me as a nanny when Arthur was born.”
Savannah smirked. “She doesn’t seem like the motherly type. How was she with her children?”
Ruth pondered the question. “She was—is—rigid, that is for sure. If she has a soft nature, she does not display it with her children. Image means a lot to her…image and status. Her family had money and position in the community, but most of her wealth came from her marriage to Mr. Spence. She told me on many occasions that children were never a part of her plan. She had them only to please her husband, who wanted heirs.” Ruth stared off into space. “She cared for them, I’m sure—in her way—but they were not her passion or even her priority. Could she have them killed, as is one theory in all this? Now that is a serious question, and I do not know the answer.”
Suddenly, Arthur stepped into the room. “Maybe I do,” he said.
“What?” Savannah asked. “You know the answer to that question?”
“Yes. Could Mother have her children killed?” he said, thoughtfully. “I think the answer is obvious—if they were in the way of something that meant more to her—like her self-indulgent lifestyle, then perhaps. Can’t we all be driven to murder in certain circumstances?”
“Arthur, what do you mean?” Ruth asked, her voice slightly shrill.
He looked at Savannah. “What if someone threatened Lily?”
Savannah stiffened. “Oh yes, the mother bear would come out so strong, I’d do anything to protect her.”
“And mow down anyone who got in your way?” he asked.
Savannah nodded.
“That’s how Mother feels about her lifestyle and all that money,” he said. “At least that’s my observation.”
“So do you believe she had something to do with…what happened to you and Karen?”
“She had her mother-in-law killed, didn’t she?” he said. “That’s gotta be a huge piece of supporting evidence, don’t you think?”
“Has she been formally charged with Pearl’s death?” Savannah asked, looking from Ruth to Arthur.
“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “Her testimony earlier this week, as you know, had to do with establishing her husband’s role in…all this. The purpose of this preliminary procedure is to determine if there’s enough evidence to warrant Mr. Peyton going on trial, and on what charges. They’ll discuss my mother’s case at another time.”
“Artie,” Ruth said with a smile, “you’ve been studying the law sites again, haven’t you? You sound more like Perry Mason all the time.”
“Yes, and the
law book Detective Craig gave me. It’s very interesting, but I don’t know if I want to get involved in all that drama as a career.” He thought for a moment. “I do like unraveling mysteries, though.” He perched on a wingback chair. “My favorite thing is reading a case and trying to figure out who-done-it, based on the evidence they’ve collected.” He grinned. “I’m pretty good at it, too…most of the time.”
“Cool,” Savannah said.
The room was quiet for a few moments when Ruth turned to Savannah. “Did you meet Pearl Peyton-Smith? You speak as if you know her.”
Savannah nodded. “My aunt and I had occasion to meet her out in the swamp one night. Aunt Margaret had been hurt and she helped us out. We actually stayed overnight in her home.”
“I didn’t know that,” Arthur said.
“Yeah, she was a lifesaver. We were in real trouble that night.” She paused. “Pearl is rather…peculiar, living all alone out there like she does with all those cats.”
“She has cats?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, she said they came to her from the mansion and that they would sometimes visit the mansion and bring back stories.” She shook her head. “Yeah, she was odd, but nice enough, I guess.”
When no one seemed interested in continuing the conversation, Ruth asked Arthur. “Can I get you something to eat now? Are you hungry?”
“Yes, how’d you know?” he asked. “What do we have? I can fix it.”
Savannah responded, “Iris made a really nice lasagna and green salad with lots of veggies.”
“Sounds good,” he said, heading for the kitchen. In a few moments, he poked his head around the corner. “Hey, Ruthie, where’s the spatula?”
“In the drawer to the left of the sink.”
Shortly, he asked, “Where do we keep the pot holders?”
“Next to the stove.”
A few seconds later, he called out, “How long should I leave it in the microwave?”
Ruth sighed and smiled, as she left her chair and joined Arthur in the kitchen.
****
“Are you ready for another big day in court?” Craig asked upon arriving at Ruth’s and Arthur’s home on the edge of the woods the next day.
“Sure,” Savannah said sarcastically while offering Lily a spoonful of pears. The baby jumped up and down in her bouncy chair when she saw Craig and Iris.