“Ella thinks anyone is capable of murder in order to protect someone they love.” Doris let her hands drop from her hips, having set her wine glass down on the side table. Tilting her head at Annie, she spoke with a heaviness in her tone. “You of all people can understand that, my dear girl.”
Annie attempted speech but it came out in strange hissing noises.
Copra placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is all very difficult for us to take. You two are used to this sort of thing. You…you have to ask these objectionable questions and establish these things.” He stared at Annie until she bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I’m trying to think of the words…to say…my mother did not kill Mr. Cryer. But if you determine she has, Ella, however erroneous it may be…” Breathing through his nose, he puffed out his chest. “That is when I shall confess.”
“Then you did do it?” I shouted, stunned. Copra killed Oscar Cryer? This changed everything. I had a lot of decisions to make and quickly. This was not a typical case for me; I was involved. I’d shielded him at the museum, and I would do so again. But he had to come forward this time. He would have to confess openly. He’d be arrested, he’d have to be. I felt powerless, how could I guard him this time? “Copra! You’ll have to—”
Doris shoved a gloved hand over my mouth. “Shhhh!” She nodded toward the door, and we waited for Doug to come bursting in. When he didn’t, Doris continued. “Of course Copra didn’t kill anyone. He’s protecting his mother.”
“Hiff moffer?” Now I sounded like Joe, and I felt lightheaded to tell you the truth.
“If you arrest his mother, Copra will confess so he goes to jail not her,” Doris said patiently, hand still over my mouth.
Annie sniffled. “And the real killer will get away. I thought you loathed that, Mrs. Westin.”
“Oh.” I tapped my hand against Doris’s and she released me. After letting out a relieved breath, I sank into the cozy, padded chair by the window. Crystals of snow coated the glass, and the cool air seeping into the room soothed me. “Oh, of course.”
Doris grinned, light shining in her striking blue eyes. “I knew you were made of the right stuff, Copra. The minute Ella brought you into this house, I knew you were made of the right stuff.”
“I did not bring him into this house, that was your father—”
“Ella is a great judge of character,” Doris continued, unabated. “And I’m not saying that because she picked my brother.” Her grin broadened as she stepped forward and drew Annie away from Copra. “And you, my dear, you don’t even know Copra that well and you knew it, too.”
“Of course I did.”
“You helped him hide the body and are protecting him from Ella’s awful interrogation.”
I struggled to sit up in the chair. “Excuse me—”
“It’s no coincidence you’re in this house, either. You both deserve to be here. I hope you realize that and remember it.”
Annie looked thrown, and Copra looked comforted.
I’d had enough. Standing up, I stayed by the chair in case my energy left me again. “Doris, we haven’t straightened out anything yet. We don’t know who did it.” Thank the good Lord above. “We don’t know how he was killed or when. And, as you pointed out, Copra hid the body and folds every time I ask him a simple question.”
“Guilty men don’t fold,” Annie said.
“Yes, they do!” I shouted again. “All the time.”
“Oh.”
Copra spoke softly. “I will reiterate that Mama didn’t do it. She didn’t know Mr. Cryer, she’s not a killer, and she’s not strong enough. You don’t have to take my word for it or trust my judgment. She’s simply not strong enough.”
I crossed the lush rug and put my hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t take much to poison someone.”
“She’s so weak she couldn’t even attend the party.”
“Maybe killing someone took what little strength she had left,” Doris said.
Annie’s eyes widened. “You just said you didn’t think he did it!”
“I still haven’t ruled out the mama.”
Before another argument could ensue, I said, “For the sake of getting this over with, Copra, because you’d rather have me ask you these things than some government agent ask your mama.”
Determination settled onto Copra’s slender face. “Mama couldn’t even come to this party, and for days Mr. Stoker and Captain Westin tried everything they could to support her in coming. They knew she wanted to. Mr. Stoker offered the use of a nice warm carriage with blankets and everything. Captain Westin offered the same thing, assuring Mama she could use his at any time, to go back home, even if she wanted to leave ten minutes after she arrived. Captain Westin even said she could stay the night. I could make up a room for her anytime I wished, not only at Christmas.”
“Oh!” Annie clapped her hands. “I’m not mad at you two anymore. Anyone with a sweet father like that…”
Copra continued. “Mr. Stoker made the same offer, unbeknownst to Captain Westin.”
“Mr. Stoker offered up one of Captain Westin’s rooms?” Annie asked. When Copra nodded, Annie laughed with glee. “I love this town!”
“Mr. Stoker said he could make up a room here that Mama could use during the party, to rest if she needed. Captain Westin said she could have a room all to herself for use during the party, even if she didn’t stay the night.” Copra held his chin up. “But Mama was still too weak to come. Even when she’s not doing too much physically, it can be so mentally and socially taxing to the point of exhaustion. She is bound and determined to come next Christmas, under her own power, if she’s invited. She is so embarrassed at all the fuss being made over her.”
“Nonsense,” Annie said. “Everyone’s different. Nobody should be shunned for it. Well, except for philanderers.” She pointed to the dead body still gracing the bed.
Eyes alight with feverish resolve, Copra bent his head down and whispered in my ear. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Vividly,” I whispered back. If he thought whispering conspiratorially and reminding me of our secret beginnings would elicit my sympathy and bond us together, then he didn’t know me at all.
“You thought I was trying to poison you.”
“I didn’t think that, Copra.”
“You know that now. But one of the first things I ever said to you was I’d never poison anybody. And you know why? Because Mama never would.”
I’d never told Copra I’d pretended I thought he’d added poison to the food because he was starving yet offering it to me, and I staunchly refused to eat letting him think I feared death by his hand. I didn’t feel now was an appropriate time to clear that up. Instead, I chose my words warily. “Earlier this evening, you said she was improving.”
Copra sat down on the chair, crossed his arms, and stared at me.
“I believe that says it all,” Annie said, plopping down on the edge of the mattress and crossing her own arms.
Doris muttered to me, “I think we’re done here.”
We left the room and waited until we were out of Doug’s earshot before whispering to one another.
“Where to next?” Doris asked, excited.
“It doesn’t bother you, either?”
“What?” She glanced back to Annie’s room as though she’d missed something.
“We insulted two good people, people who like and respect us.”
“Nah. Have you never actually insulted anyone? That was not it.”
I almost laughed.
“They’re our friends. They know we don’t mean anything by it.”
“But we do.”
“But once we find out it wasn’t Copra, or his mama, they’ll understand we had to do what we did and they’ll like and respect us even more.”
“That’s one way to look at it. But, I thought you still suspected Copra’s mama.”
“I do.”
“Oh.” I looked sideways at her, but she gave no indication of spe
aking further on the matter. “Well then, let’s talk to the wife.”
“Hope Cryer? What are we going to ask her?”
“First, we’re going to tell her her husband has been looking for her.”
“Ah-ha. And if she faints in fright, we’ve got our killer.”
“Yes, Doris, it’s usually that easy.”
“Ah, sarcasm. How I’ve missed you.”
We headed back to the ballroom, but Hope Cryer wasn’t there. Doris and I checked room by room. Upon entering the noisy library, I flinched as the tall-case clock chimed the hour. I sauntered in, catching a glimpse of the many sea paintings hung on the walls. Thick rugs silenced my footfalls, and I allowed the heat from the immense stone fireplace on one wall to cascade over the goose bumps on my arms.
I spotted Mrs. Cryer in a corner of the room, perched on the edge of a plush chair set in front of heavy, sapphire curtains pulled closed to keep out the chill of night. She sat quietly while three men played a rousing game of chess, another half dozen revelers cheering them on. They’d hit the spirits a bit too much—three men could not play a legal game of chess. It didn’t even matter Joe was one of those men, though drink might improve his game. It certainly couldn’t worsen it. He glanced our way, but no recognition lit in his eyes, so I had no problem questioning Mrs. Cryer right in front of him.
“Hello, Mrs. Cryer, what are you reading?” I said by way of greeting.
“I dunno.” She flipped the tome closed, studying the cover. “Some book about monsters. I could write one of my own, only it wouldn’t be fiction. And please, dears, call me Hope.”
“Oh, call me Doris and her Ella, please do.” Doris frowned, a little exaggerated, and balanced on the blue arm rest. “Poor, Hope. You’re not having a good time, are you?”
“Oh, I am, Doris. I am. I’m not in the mood for festivities tonight, but please don’t tell your father. I wouldn’t want him to think his party is lacking in any way. It’s astounding!”
“I wouldn’t dream of telling him because he’d focus on cheering you up, and I don’t know if you’ve danced with Daddy when he’s tipsy, but he forgets he’s got a wooden leg.”
Hope and I laughed, and Hope seemed to relax a little as the lines on her face softened. I said, “Oscar was asking after you, but he didn’t seem interested in joining you.”
“Ella!” Doris admonished.
“It’s all right.” Hope rolled her eyes, but her reddened cheeks showed embarrassment; embarrassment, perhaps even shame, but not surprise or confusion that her dead husband was asking about her.
Doris patted her hand. “Tell us all about it. The men aren’t listening. Drunken chess is taking all their attention, which wasn’t very good to begin with.”
Hope laughed again. “I suppose I am hiding in here. I’m sulking.”
“It’s a good room to sulk in.” Doris glanced around. “Ella will have to remember that.”
“Me? Why me? I don’t sulk.”
“Wait until you’ve been married a while,” Hope said. “I’m surprised he showed up tonight. I haven’t seen him all evening.” She held her nose in the air. “Not that I was searching.”
“Of course not,” Doris said. “Sometimes, you see them enough at home.”
“It’s true,” Hope said. “I forget you haven’t been married, Doris. You seem to understand.”
“I listen.”
Hope nodded. “I don’t want to talk to him. I’m having a fine time without him.”
I pressed my lips together, and I saw Doris bite her own. Hope was watching both of us.
“I am! I’m…I don’t need him. There are plenty of activities to keep my attention.”
“With drunken men around?” Doris asked. “I dare you to find a room that doesn’t hold your attention.”
A loud whoop resounded through the library, and six men started chanting, “Take it off! Take it off!” and a suit jacket flew through the air, landing at our feet. I glanced over and, to my horror, watched my husband playing strip chess—and losing. I had no idea if the rest of the country’s wives had to deal with this type of game, a game of strip anything. I’d never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my days, but Port Bass housed countless weird surprises—and humiliations seemed to lurk in every corner. I felt flames rising off my cheeks.
The three of us looked at one another without saying a word.
Doris broke the silence. “We might want to move along before I have to shield my eyes. Ella is the only one who can brazenly look on.”
“Oh, I assure you, I’m mortified beyond all belief. I won’t be able to brazenly look on anywhere ever again.”
“Excuse me a moment, ladies.” Doris snatched the suit jacket and glided over to the chess onlookers, admonishing them for taking advantage of Joe. “Playing strip chess with Joe is like shooting fish in a barrel, and if one more article of clothing is removed from my brother, I will personally see to it your wardrobes go missing by New Year’s morning.”
Even Hope cringed at the threat. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I don’t know your sister well, Ella, but I get the impression she’ll make good on that.”
“She gives that impression to everyone. Even people she’s just met. There will be disgraced and cold men come the new year if they don’t ease up a bit.”
She giggled and flung a hand to her face. “Oh, I wish I had that sort of…” She regarded me carefully. “Personality. That rebellious streak.”
Hope Cryer was a cautious woman. She said what she thought but studied her audience thoroughly before choosing how to phrase it. She had the personality to plan her husband’s murder, I was sure. She had the fortitude and follow-through, but I didn’t know if she had the stomach for it. I so rarely did know. Anyone I came across could be guilty; they had to prove their innocence to me, not the other way around. I had to think like that—not let it show, merely think like that or it could cost me my life.
“You seem a capable woman, Hope,” I said.
“Oh, please, dear. If I were, would my husband be unfai—” She cut herself off and took a moment to adjust her golden skirts. “Would he be avoiding me on Christmas Eve in public? It’s undignified, dear. I pray you never experience it.”
I squinted at Doris, attempting to dress Joe. On Christmas Eve. In public. I couldn’t envision Joe avoiding me in that moment because all I wanted to do was run upstairs, hide in my room, and pretend I wasn’t married to a half-naked drunk man who was now singing at the top of his lungs. Badly. I took pity on Hope—in case she wasn’t guilty of murdering her no-good husband—and pointed at Joe. “Perhaps the town will be talking of this over your own troubles.”
She burst out laughing, not bothering to apologize this time. “My dear girl, every husband does this at some point. My first birthday as a married woman went much like this. I doubt the gossips in town will spread this very far. Especially since I’m one of them, and I rather like you and your husband. But you are sweet to say so.” She patted my shoulder.
I’d never been called “sweet” so genuinely before. The more relaxed I felt in her presence, the more uncomfortable I grew. Hope could be playing with my mind as she had her husband, before poisoning him and dumping him in Copra’s mother’s bed. I shook my head to clear it. “Perhaps it’s time to find Oscar? Maybe he’ll ask you to dance. My father-in-law says dancing is a great healer for couples going through troubles.”
“Your father-in-law thinks the best of everyone, and it drives the town crazy.” She held her head high. “I wouldn’t dance with that man if he asked me with his dying breath.”
She was either one of the most cold-hearted, steel-nerved ladies I’d ever come across, or she hadn’t murdered her husband. I was no wiser now than I’d been before speaking with her. Doris was making her way back, red in the face and breathing a bit heavier than her usual unflappable countenance allowed.
“That man.”
“Which one?” I asked, glancing over her shoulder to the subdued
group of muttering drunks.
“Joe!” Doris took a deep breath. “All of them. I don’t know how women can marry them.”
“It’s our cross to bear, dear.” Hope patted Doris’s hand, and Doris visibly relaxed.
“Well, when my time comes—if I allow it—I’m choosing a man who can hold his liquor.”
Hope laughed again. “You don’t allow a marriage. No, I take that back. That’s the one thing you do have control over. But you don’t have control over falling in love.”
“Well, I’d like to think I do,” Doris said.
“We all like to think so. We have to make the best of the situation we find ourselves in if our heart chooses someone…shall we say, less than deserving.”
The expressionless-Doris came back. “Do we, Hope? Do we have to? Or can we, shall we say, take matters into our own hands?”
Hope’s mouth hung open as she searched for words but came up empty. Then she met Doris’s gaze. “I suppose a woman can. Especially from your generation. The women of today are more forward. You can get away with a lot more than we could.”
Like murder? Was she referring to murder? Doris had asked a bold question, and Hope could have reacted many different ways. She’d been thrown but only for a few seconds. She’d responded from a place of woe as opposed to guilt.
I was about to cross her off my list of suspects when she shoved the book into Doris’s hands and shot to her feet, her nose sticking up.
“If you will excuse me, I believe it is time for me to leave. Goodnight, Ella, Doris.”
Before Doris or I could come up with so much as a word of protest, Hope disappeared from the library in a flurry of yellows and purpose.
Doris gaped like a fish. “She left.”
“That kind of backfired on us.”
“We didn’t get anything out of her. She up and left.”
“No, she’s leaving.”
“What’s the difference?” Doris asked.
“She’s not gone yet. Come on.” I gathered up my skirts and stepped over Webster, passed out from too much drink. Hope was not in the hallway.
Doris caught up to me outside the ballroom. “She’s already gone, Ella. What do we do now?”
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