Creeps Suzette

by Mary Daheim

  “You don’t feel nervous about sleeping alone?” Judith asked, as she got to her feet.

  Mrs. Burgess wore a sad little smile. “Oddly enough, I don’t, now that I lock myself in. Only Sarah has the keys, and I trust her implicitly. Good night, my dears. Do sleep well.”

  A few minutes later, Judith and Renie wandered back toward the main staircase. Kenyon was at the door, peering outside.

  “More visitors?” Judith inquired.

  Kenyon closed the door. “Sarah thought she heard a car, but I don’t see anyone. I might mention that we all retire when the mistress does. If there’s anything you need, please let us know now.” He sketched a little bow.

  “We’re fine,” said Renie. “In fact, we’re going to bed, too. Good night.” The cousins ascended the wide, carpeted staircase.

  “Bop and Kenneth,” Judith said when they reached their suite. “What a pair of ill-matched cousins. We aren’t like that, are we?”

  Renie was pulling her red cashmere sweater over her head. “You mean poles apart in personality? Yes, I think we are, except that with us it’s not readily apparent. Or so extreme.”

  “I wonder what Kenneth wanted to discuss with his grandmother?” Judith mused, slipping off her pumps and rubbing her tired feet.

  “Fur,” Renie said. “He’s probably one of those people who throws paint on mink coats and sable jackets. I don’t wear fur, but I find that kind of protest not just loathsome, but criminal.” Hanging up her black pleated skirt in the armoire, Renie announced that she was going to take a bath.

  Judith nodded. “I’m going to watch the ten o’clock news.”

  “It’s way too early for me to go to sleep,” Renie called from the bathroom. “I brought a book, so I’ll read for a while.”

  “Fine,” said Judith. “I’ll shower in the morning. That’s what I do at home.”

  Judith found the remote control on the night table, next to a lamp with a beaded shade. The TV itself was enclosed in another, smaller armoire that looked as if it could have dated from the seventeenth century.

  The news from the last part of the twentieth century was much more tawdry and inelegant. The President was having woman trouble, the Albanians were rioting, and the Serbs were hopping mad. However, the economy was strong, the sports news from spring training held the usual March promise, and the university’s basketball team was going to the NCAA tournament. On the downside, the weather called for blustery winds and heavy rain.

  Renie didn’t come out of the bathroom until the anchor-persons were signing off. “I read in the tub,” she said. “I often do, and that one is really comfortable.”

  Judith stared at her cousin. “You took off the patch.”

  Renie nodded. “I do, at night. I tend to keep my eyes closed when I sleep.”

  “Let’s see.” Judith propped herself up on one elbow. “The left eye looks…droopy.”

  “It is…dopey. That’s the problem. But it’s better,” Renie said. “Maybe I’ll try to read a little more. Will the light bother you?”

  “No,” Judith replied, settling down under the covers. “Joe often reads in bed. I know you’re a night owl, but I think breakfast is served at eight-thirty. You’d better be fully conscious.”

  “I’m never fully conscious before ten, and you know it,” Renie said. “Don’t worry, I can fake it.”

  As Judith drifted off to sleep, she could hear the wind in the trees. Somehow, it was a cozy, comforting sound, as if Nature were playing a lullaby.

  She was asleep when she felt Renie shake her. “Did you hear that?” Renie asked in an uneasy voice.

  It took Judith a moment to figure out where she was—and why she was there. “What time is it?” She blinked, trying to adjust to the lamp that glowed on the night table.

  “Not yet eleven-thirty,” Renie answered impatiently. “I heard something that sounded like a scream or a moan. Twice, in the last minute or so.”

  Judith sat up. “You mean it’s not the middle of the night? I must have just dropped off.”

  “You did,” Renie said, giving Judith another shake. “Come on, grab a robe.”

  A minute later, the cousins were in the hall. It was completely dark, and they had to feel their way along the wall. After passing the first closed door, they saw a weak patch of light coming from Mrs. Burgess’s room. Hurrying to the source, they found the door wide open.

  “Mrs. Burgess?” Renie called.

  There was no answer, except for the wind blowing in from the west. Slipping into the sitting room, Judith noticed that the light was coming from the boudoir.

  Mrs. Burgess was nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door was closed. “Mrs. Burgess?” Renie called again as she tapped on the solid mahogany door.

  This time, the cousins both heard something like a moan or a groan. It wasn’t coming from the bathroom. They dashed out into the hall, but could see nothing in the darkness.

  “There’s got to be a light switch around here somewhere,” Judith muttered as she felt the wall nearest to the central staircase. “Damn. I can’t find it.” She kept going, making circular motions with her hand.

  They heard the sound again. “It’s coming from down-stairs,” Judith breathed, then miraculously felt a switchplate beneath her fingers.

  The lights came on. Judith and Renie rushed to the head of the central staircase. They looked down to the bottom, and saw a black heap on the floor. Judith jumped in surprise, then took Renie by the hand.

  “Don’t fall,” she urged, hurrying down the stairs. “What on earth…?”

  The question hung on the air. At the bottom of the stairs they could see the black heap more closely. It moved, and another groan was heard.

  “It’s Dr. Moss,” Judith cried. She started for the doctor, who was completely covered by the black cape and a big hat. Then, with a jolt, she saw the top of Mrs. Burgess’s head. She was lying underneath the doctor.

  “Help me,” she gasped. “I think Dr. Moss is dead.”

  Before the cousins could do anything but suck in their breaths, Mrs. Burgess passed out.

  SIX

  “IS THIS ECSTASY or a nasty accident?” Renie whispered as the cousins tried to ease Dr. Moss’s body off Mrs. Burgess. “Or, given their ages, both?”

  “Hush,” Judith hissed, getting a grip on Dr. Moss’s shoulders. “One, two, three, heave-ho!”

  The cousins moved the doctor just enough to free the unconscious woman. “We’ve got to call the police and the medics,” Judith said, then heard the soft sound of sobbing from somewhere nearby. She turned swiftly and saw Kenneth, huddled next to a marble statue of Venus Rising from the Sea.

  He pointed a shaking finger at his grandmother. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Kenneth asked between sobs. “I feel terrible.” He moved on unsteady legs from just inside the entry hall.

  “She’s not dead,” Renie snapped, standing up. “Move it, I’m calling the cops.” Brushing past Kenneth, she rushed toward the library.

  “Not dead?” Kenneth asked in a toneless voice. “But…”

  “Dr. Moss is dead,” Judith said, feeling for a pulse and not finding one.

  “Then we can’t call him,” Kenneth said.

  “That’s right.” Judith gritted her teeth. “Get some brandy from the drawing room. Hurry up.”

  “I’ll call Dr. Stevens from there,” Kenneth said over his shoulder.

  Judith didn’t have any idea who Dr. Stevens was, but figured he must be someone known to the family. Mrs. Burgess, however, was starting to regain consciousness just as Renie returned.

  “They’re on the way,” she said. “I gather it’s the county sheriff’s jurisdiction.”

  Mrs. Burgess was moaning again. “Ohh…” she gasped. “Ohh…What…?”

  Judith helped the older woman sit up. “Don’t strain yourself,” she said softly. “Here’s Kenneth. He has some brandy.”

  “Kenneth?” Mrs. Burgess regarded her grandson with a strange expression. “Oh. That’s r
ight. You’re here.”

  “Yes, Grandmaman,” Kenneth replied, holding the brandy snifter to Mrs. Burgess’s lips. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “No!” Mrs. Burgess slapped at the snifter, sending it flying out of Kenneth’s hand. It didn’t break, but brandy spilled all over the Persian carpet.

  “What’s wrong, Grandmaman?” Kenneth asked in a pitiful voice. “I would never hurt you.”

  It was obvious that Leota Burgess was trying to compose herself. “No. Of course you wouldn’t. But…” Her gaze strayed to the inert body of Dr. Moss. “Oh, my! I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “I called Dr. Stevens,” Kenneth said, still kneeling beside his grandmother. “He’ll be here right away.”

  “Dr. Stevens,” Mrs. Burgess murmured, her gnarled fingers kneading at the folds of her deep purple bathrobe. “Yes, of course. Oh, what will he think about Dr. Moss?”

  “That he’s dead?” Renie said under her breath to Judith, who was now trying to examine the dead man without touching anything.

  “A heart attack?” Judith whispered. “It wouldn’t be surprising. Dr. Moss must have been about ninety.” Pointing to the medical bag at the doctor’s side, she turned to Mrs. Burgess. “Did you call for him?”

  Leota Burgess’s eyes widened. “No. Why should I? I feel fine. Or did, until now. I believe I reinjured my ankle.”

  “What happened?” Judith asked. “You came downstairs and—what?”

  Mrs. Burgess held her head. “I feel so queer. I’m not exactly sure…Let me think.”

  A silence fell over the little group. “Would you like us to help you into the drawing room?” Judith finally asked.

  Mrs. Burgess looked again at Dr. Moss’s body and shivered. “Yes. Please.”

  It was Kenneth who assisted his grandmother to a sofa in the drawing room just off the central staircase. She could barely walk, and her grandson staggered slightly under her weight. After making her as comfortable as possible, Kenneth returned to the entry hall to await the emergency personnel.

  “Maybe I will have some brandy,” Mrs. Burgess said with a heavy sigh. “You know where the liquor is. If you don’t mind…”

  Renie went over to the bar where Kenyon had served them before dinner. Judith tried to keep her expression blank as she sat down next to Mrs. Burgess. Apparently, the old lady had no qualms about drinking brandy that wasn’t served by her grandson.

  “Do you remember anything?” Judith asked.

  “It’s very vague,” Mrs. Burgess replied. “I was about to go to sleep when my buzzer rang. Just outside the front door is a speaker so that I can be buzzed if someone should come to call and the servants don’t hear. We put it in for Kenyon, really, because he’s gotten so deaf.”

  Leota Burgess paused as Renie returned, juggling three brandy snifters. “Thank you, my dear,” the old woman said, though her hand trembled as she accepted the drink. “Anyway, it was Dr. Moss. He has his own key—he’s had it for years, in case of an emergency—and he let himself in. I got up and started downstairs, first turning on the lights with the switch near my door. I reached the top of the stairs and saw Dr. Moss. I was telling him that I’d come down when the lights went out.”

  “But you’d just turned them on,” Judith put in.

  Mrs. Burgess nodded. “So I had. But there’s a second switch in the entry hall so that the lights can be turned on and off from both ends of the staircase. The next thing I knew, I fell. I must have been so startled that I tripped. I tumbled all the way downstairs and—”

  She stopped, looking blankly at the cousins. “I’m very fuzzy about what happened next.”

  Though there had been no sound of sirens or flashes of red and blue lights, voices in the hall indicated that someone had arrived. Judith excused herself and went to investigate. Two sheriff’s deputies were speaking to Kenneth, and the medics were hauling their equipment into the house.

  “Dr. Moss is in there,” Kenneth said in a nervous voice as he pointed to the staircase. “We think he had a heart attack. He was very old.”

  One of the deputies, a chunky man of forty whose name tag read “R. Sorensen,” turned to Judith. “Are you a family member?”

  Judith said she was a guest. “My cousin’s here, too. She’s with Mrs. Burgess in the drawing room. Should I call her in?”

  Sorensen held up a hand. “Slow down, ma’am. We’d rather you and Mr…” He turned to Kenneth. “Ward, is it? Deputy Foster here and me would like you both to leave the staircase area.”

  Kenneth started to protest, but Judith knew from experience that when cops gave orders, they expected to be obeyed. Reluctantly, she headed for the drawing room, passing the medics on her way.

  “Twenty—thirty minutes ago?” one of them said to the other. “He’s still warm.”

  Mrs. Burgess’s color had improved and her hands had stopped shaking. “What’s going on?” she demanded when Judith reentered the drawing room.

  “Routine,” Judith said in a soothing voice. “Do you want the medics to check you out?”

  “No,” Mrs. Burgess said firmly. “I’ll wait for Dr. Stevens. He doesn’t live far from here. Indeed, he and Dr. Moss share a large home about two blocks from the entrance to Sunset Cliffs.”

  “Dr. Stevens is Dr. Moss’s partner?” Renie asked.

  “Yes. Dr. Moss has had his offices in the house for some time,” Mrs. Burgess explained. “When Mrs. Moss died a few years ago, he invited Dr. Stevens to move in with him. Theo Stevens was doing his residency at the time, and grateful for free room and board.”

  Renie set her brandy snifter down on a teak side table next to her big mohair chair. “So after his training was completed, he joined Dr. Moss’s practice?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Burgess’s face tightened. “It made sense. Dr. Moss was in his eighties, and wasn’t able to handle his patient load by himself.”

  “It sounds very convenient,” Judith said. “Economical, too. I take it Dr. Stevens is single?”

  “So far.” Briefly, Mrs. Burgess looked away, then fixed Judith with a sharp gaze. “Where’s Kenneth?”

  Upon leaving the entry hall, Judith had assumed Kenneth would follow her back to the drawing room. “I…I don’t know,” she stammered. “The deputies sent both of us away. Shall I check on him?”

  “Please,” Mrs. Burgess said with that familiar regal air.

  As she descended the central stairs, Judith saw Sorensen and Foster standing by Dr. Moss’s body. “We’ve called in the detectives,” Sorensen said in a grave voice. “This was no heart attack. We’ve got a homicide on our hands.”

  On the surface, Judith was shocked; deep down, she wasn’t the least surprised. They had come to Creepers to prevent a murder. That they had failed was a terrible misfortune. Neither Judith nor Renie could have guessed that they were protecting the wrong potential victim. Still, she felt derelict in their duty, and full of remorse.

  “How was he killed?” Judith asked in a hushed voice.

  Sorensen shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. We can’t say anything until the coroner arrives. Maybe not even then. Would you please leave the crime scene?”

  “I was looking for Kenneth Ward,” Judith said. “Did you see where he went?”

  The second deputy, Foster, gestured toward the entry hall. “I think he went that way.”

  “Thanks.” Judith started to move, then stopped. The hat had been removed from the back of Dr. Moss’s head. She saw the deep, bloody wound at the base of the skull and knew the cause of death: the proverbial blunt instrument.

  An inch or so away from the body, Judith spotted some small clumps of dirt. She was about to say something when Sorensen took her by the elbow. “Please, ma’am, let’s move along. This is now an official crime scene.”

  “I know,” Judith said softly. I know a crime scene when I see one, she thought. And I’m beginning to think I’ve seen one too many.

  Since Foster had pointed to the entry hall, Judith figured that
Kenneth might have gone into the library. It seemed logical, and she was aware that it was time to delve into her reliable wellspring of logic.

  Apparently, Renie had left the lights on in the library after calling 911. Kenneth, however, was not in sight. Just for good measure, Judith glanced at the bookcase that concealed the safe. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed; the glass-fronted door was firmly shut and the books appeared to be as the cousins had left them. The killer apparently hadn’t broken into the safe.

  She was turning to leave when she spotted a writing tablet on the desk. Almost certain that it hadn’t been there while she and Renie had been making their phone calls, Judith glanced at the top page.

  The handwriting was very irregular, large and loopy, as if the writer had been out of control. With some effort, Judith finally made out the words:

  “How did it go so wrong?”

  Drumming her fingers on the desk, Judith waged war within herself. Was this someone’s random scribbles—or some kind of evidence? Dare she tear off the top sheet and take it with her?

  She dared not, but she committed the words to memory and left. Outside in the passageway, she paused at the door opposite to the library. She’d noticed it only vaguely on her earlier visits, and wondered where it led. Cautiously, she turned the decorated brass knob.

  A winding flight of stairs met her eyes. This must be the way to the north tower, Judith thought, and closed the door. She didn’t recall seeing a staircase leading out of the parlor in the tower. Perhaps Kenneth had used these steps to go up to his room to collect himself.

  The detectives, a slim young Asian man and a middle-aged African-American woman on the plump side, were just arriving when Judith scurried through the entry hall. Not wanting to get herself in trouble, she kept going. Apparently, the medics had left. There was no sign of their equipment anywhere.

  But there was another newcomer in the drawing room. A tall, dark-skinned man in his thirties was bending over Mrs. Burgess. “I’ll give you a sedative,” he said in a pleasant, soothing voice. “I’m sure nothing’s broken, but we can X-ray that ankle tomorrow.”