by Mary Daheim
“Very rude,” Renie remarked with a devilish smile. “Take two.”
“Poor Mrs. Burgess,” Judith said as she sipped her tea. “She’s had nothing but trouble the last two days. I wonder what Dorothy said that was so upsetting.”
Edna daintily chewed her sandwich. “I couldn’t say, of course. Though about a quarter of an hour before I saw Mrs. Dorothy leave, I came up the back stairs to fetch the mistress’s luncheon things. It seemed to me that they were arguing. Just as I was about to enter the mistress’s bedroom from behind the Chinese screen, I thought I saw a pin on the floor. You know what they say, ‘Pick up a pin and have good luck all day.’ Or something like that.” Predictably, Edna was turning pink. “While I was searching for the pin, I couldn’t help but overhear. They were rather loud, you see.” The little maid gave the cousins an apologetic glance.
“Of course,” Judith soothed.
“Anyway,” Edna continued, “Mrs. Dorothy said something about the mistress refusing to give her money for her Jim. Naturally, I was shocked. I’ve never heard of anyone named Jim, and it occurred to me that Mrs. Dorothy was talking about another man.”
“My, my,” Judith exclaimed.
“Have another sandwich,” Renie offered.
“Thank you.” Edna paused to take a bite and chew very slowly. “The mistress was horrified, and said she’d have no part of such folly. Then Mrs. Dorothy said if that was so, then she’d have to file for divorce. The mistress got very distressed, saying in no uncertain terms that Burgesses did not divorce. Then Mrs. Dorothy said they did so, too. Mrs. Peggy had divorced Mr. Charles, and Miss Caroline was going to divorce Mr. Brett. The mistress said that was different, Mr. Charles was no good, and Miss Caroline was only separated. That’s when I bumped my head on the screen, and they realized I was there. Naturally, they stopped arguing.”
“Did you find the pin?” Renie asked with a straight face.
Edna looked away. “No. It must have been a trick of the light. So shadowy by the back stairs passageway.”
“Are you sure you don’t want some tea?” Judith asked.
“No, please,” Edna responded, rising from the settee. “I must get back to the kitchen. Ada will wonder why I’ve been gone so long. She doesn’t like me chatting with people. Please don’t tell her that we had a little visit.”
“Of course not,” Judith assured her. “One small question, Edna. Why is the top floor of the north tower sealed off?”
The little maid looked stricken. “Oh, Mrs. Flynn, you don’t want to know! Not that I can really tell you, but it’s something terrible that happened a long, long time ago. I swear, it’s better not even to think about it.” With a jerky little curtsy, Edna left the room.
“Who’s Jim?” Renie asked, eating the last sandwich.
“Dorothy’s boyfriend, I guess,” Judith replied. “I wonder if Wayne knows about all this?”
“It sounds as if he’ll soon find out,” Renie remarked. “I suppose this explained Dorothy’s threat to Gaylord Gibbons. She doesn’t want him messing up her divorce settlement.”
“Bop might know what’s going on with his parents,” Judith said. “Would you like to order a pizza?”
Renie groaned. “It’s four o’clock, and dinner’s at six. Even I don’t want to gorge.”
“Dinner needn’t be at six,” Judith pointed out. “Leota will have a tray sent to her room. Plus, we could save the pizza for later, and have Ada Dietz microwave it.”
“Let’s wait,” Renie said, puffing out her cheeks. “I feel like a blimp.”
Judith gave in. “Okay.” Restless, she began to prowl the room, finally stopping by the magazine rack. “Not much choice here. Mostly business magazines, and a Country Life I’ve already seen. The only thing left is what looks like a community newspaper.” Fishing the tabloid out of the rack, she noted the date. “Last week’s edition. What do I need to know about the north section of the county?”
“Nothing you couldn’t read in the daily papers,” Renie said, pouring more tea.
But Judith was transfixed by the front page. “Speaking of Bop, here he is. ‘Bop Burgess,’” she read from the caption under the young man’s photo, “‘founder of one of the community’s most successful new businesses.’ It says here that three local entrepreneurs were honored at a Chamber of Commerce dinner February twentieth for their contribution to the local economy. Listen to this—‘Burgess’s Bop’s Pizza Palace began turning a profit after only four months. The youthful owner has been credited with astute management, innovative advertising, and shrewd financial skills.’ Here’s a quote from Bop—‘That’s high praise, but I honestly believe that the reason we’re making money is because we don’t stint on ingredients or service. We also use imagination, not only in how we make our pizzas, but what we call them. Mozzarella Bella, Fisherman’s Friend, The Wild Side—we think these names add a lot more excitement than just saying cheese, anchovies, or mushrooms.’”
Renie sat with her chin on her hand. “Who said Bop had no business sense?”
Judith thought for a moment. “Peggy? Mrs. Burgess?”
“Whoever it was, was wrong,” said Renie.
Replacing the newspaper, Judith went back to the window. “The wind’s really blowing. We must be in for another storm.” She walked to the fireplace and leaned down. “I can hear it in the chimney. It almost sounds like someone crying.” Pausing, she listened more closely. “It is someone crying. It’s very faint, but I’m sure of it.”
“Caroline,” Renie said, getting up. “She’s in the room next door.”
Without another word, the cousins went out into the hall and knocked on Caroline’s door. There was no answer.
Judith knocked again. “Caroline?” she called.
Renie reached around Judith and turned the knob. The door was unlocked.
The suite in which Caroline was staying had been designed to accommodate the dual fireplaces and shared chimney. Caroline was lying on the rug in front of the hearth, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Caroline,” Judith repeated, touching the girl’s shoulder, “stop, please. You’ll make yourself sick.”
“Should I get Nurse Fritz?” Renie asked as Caroline sobbed on.
“Wait,” Judith said, firmly grasping Caroline’s arms and hauling her into an upright position. “Hush! You’re hysterical. What’s wrong?”
Caroline began to hiccough between sobs. Renie went off to fetch some water.
“Shh, shh,” Judith soothed, propping Caroline up. “If I help, can you get to the sofa?”
“I…should…have…died…too,” Caroline gulped.
“What?” Judith struggled to get some leverage under Caroline’s arms.
“Death…is…sweet,” the girl gasped.
“Speak for yourself,” Renie snapped, holding out a glass of water.
Caroline, still hiccoughing, tried to push the glass away. “No…no…”
“It’s poison,” Renie said in a cheerful voice. “Cyanide. Yum, yum.”
“Please, Caroline,” Judith begged, “you really are going to be ill. We’ll have to call Dr. Stevens.”
The sobs began to subside. At last, Caroline accepted the water. “Is it really poison?” she whispered.
“No such luck,” Renie said. “Just drink the damned thing.”
To the cousins’ relief, Caroline drank half the water, then shifted her weight away from Judith but remained seated on the floor. “Four years ago tomorrow,” she murmured. “March fourth. It was stormy then, too.”
Puzzled, Judith tried to make herself comfortable. “What are you talking about?”
“My daddy. He was killed March fourth, four years ago, the night Gran’mère had her gall bladder attack.”
“Is that why you said you should have died, too?” Judith asked gently. “To be with your father?”
Caroline nodded. “Nothing’s gone right for me since. He was my anchor. That’s why I married Brett.”
“You mean Brett was a
father figure?” Renie inquired, taking a big fringed pillow from the sofa and sitting down on it next to Judith. “Was he much older?”
“Not really,” Caroline replied. “Only eight years. But he was someone I could lean on. Brett’s smart, talented, clever. He’s published two novels already. I thought because he was a writer, he could help me with my poetry. But Brett doesn’t know anything about poetry. And I guess I never really loved him.”
“That’s a terrible shame,” Judith said with a pang. She remembered all too well her rebound marriage to Dan McMonigle. Unlike Caroline, Judith had managed, at great cost, to hold on until Dan’s death nineteen years later.
“I came to Creepers last night because I wanted to be here for the anniversary,” Caroline said as the hiccoughs subsided and the tears began to dry up. “I heard there was going to be a storm, so I decided to start out before the weather changed.”
“Were you at Creepers when your father was killed?” Judith asked.
“Yes. I was still living at home, with Mommy and Russ. They’d only been married about two years,” Caroline explained, then paused to take another sip of water. “Mommy encouraged me to spend the night with Gran’mère because she wasn’t feeling well. Kenny couldn’t come—he was out rescuing beavers from some pond.”
“How did you learn about the accident?” Judith inquired.
“The police told us,” Caroline said, starting to tear up again. “It was around nine o’clock. Mommy had just stopped by on her way from having dinner with Russ at the club. She came to see Gran’mère because she’d had another spell. Then the sheriff’s deputies showed up and told us about Daddy. Mommy went to pieces and Dr. Moss had to give her a sedative.”
“Dr. Moss was at Creepers?” Judith asked.
“Yes, I’d sent for him,” Caroline replied. “He was arranging for Gran’mère to be taken to the hospital. I had to ride along in the ambulance with Nurse Fritz because Mommy was so distraught and Dr. Moss wasn’t feeling well, either. That’s the first time I realized how old he really was. He’d been around for so long and his hair was always white, I guess I never noticed.”
“But you were okay?” Renie asked, slightly incredulous.
“I was numb.” Caroline looked away from the cousins, as if she could picture herself moving silent and robotlike through the vast rooms of Creepers. “With Gran’mère ill and Mommy upset, I kept the news about Daddy at a distance. It was only the next day, after Gran’mère got through her surgery, that I collapsed.”
“In spite of the divorce,” Judith said in a thoughtful tone, “your mother must still have been fond of your father.”
Caroline frowned. “I suppose. They didn’t get along very well, though. It was always a hassle when he wanted Kenny and me to spend time with him.”
“Did he live close by?” Renie asked.
Caroline nodded. “North of here, in a condo by the ferry dock. He’d remarried after the divorce, but that only lasted a few years. I’m not sure Daddy was the marrying kind.”
“What did he do for a living?” Renie asked.
“When Mommy first met Daddy,” Caroline said with a tremulous smile, “he worked at the yacht club marina. Later, he got interested in repairing and restoring antique automobiles. Then, after they divorced, he hurt his back and couldn’t work, at least not at the jobs he liked.” The smile faded, and the tears were about to fall again.
Judith patted Caroline’s arm. “You mustn’t dwell on his death. If your father was such a source of strength for you while he was alive, you must know that he wouldn’t want you to give in to grief.”
Caroline offered Judith a pitiful little smile. “I realize that. But I think it’s because I didn’t fall apart the night he was killed, so I’ve had to make up for it since.”
“It’s four years later,” Renie asserted. “We all have to move on.”
Wiping at her eyes, Caroline sighed. “Maybe it would have helped if they’d caught whoever killed him. Then there’d be closure. It was different with Zane.”
“Zane?” Judith said, frowning.
“Mommy’s second husband,” Caroline replied. “Zane Crowley. His body was never found after he went off into the jungle and got blown up. Zane was nice, and all that, but he and Mommy were only married for a couple of years, and he was always off on some assignment. Anyway, after he was killed, Mommy got a nice note from the President or somebody. But with Daddy, there was nothing official. The wound feels like it’s still open.”
“That’s understandable,” Judith said, “but after all this time, it’s not going to happen. If I were you, I’d try to stop mourning so much, and refocus your poetry on other subjects.”
“I thought,” Caroline said in a hollow voice, “if I wrote about Daddy’s death, I could find some meaning in it. The way it is now, it’s only a random, senseless act. Whoever killed him just drove on. For all I know, that person didn’t even realize what happened. It was such a stormy night, he or she may have thought they’d hit a bump or a branch. The police told us that visibility was very poor.”
The door opened to reveal Peggy Hillman, who stared at the trio on the floor. “What’s this? The Three Stooges?”
Renie stood up. “I used to be Curly, but my perm grew out. We were talking to your daughter. She was upset because her father was killed four years ago tomorrow. How do you feel about that, Peggy?”
Peggy looked affronted. “How I feel is none of your damned business. How Carrie feels isn’t your business, either. Come on, Carrie, let’s go downstairs. It’s time for the cocktail hour.”
“We’re still on schedule?” Renie asked.
“We’re on my schedule,” Peggy retorted. “The cocktail hour will be two hours long. Get up, Carrie. Let’s go.”
Slowly, Caroline got to her feet. “I don’t think I want a cocktail, Mommy. Is it okay if I just stay here in my room?”
“No, it’s not. You need to mingle.” Peggy tapped her foot.
“Mingle?” Caroline echoed, sounding bewildered. “Who do we mingle with? There’s nobody here but us.”
“There’s a bunch of people coming over,” Peggy said. “I invited some of the neighbors. They won’t admit it, but they’re dying to find out what happened here.”
“People?” Caroline looked alarmed. “What kind of people?”
Peggy’s foot tapped faster. “The Bensons. The Fredericks. The Morris sisters, Mrs. Wiggins and her son, Harold. Really, Caroline, you need to mix more.”
“Okay,” Caroline said without enthusiasm. “Let me change and wash my face.”
“Good,” Peggy responded. “I’ll see you in the drawing room.”
“Cocktails,” Renie murmured as the cousins followed Peggy from the suite. “Does that include appetizers?”
“Cocktails don’t include you,” Peggy retorted over her shoulder. “This is strictly a Sunset Cliffs gathering. If you want a belt, send for Kenyon.”
Before Renie could retaliate, Edna appeared at the top of the stairs. “There’s a phone call for you, Mrs. Jones. You may take it in your suite. I believe it’s Mrs. Beverly.”
“Bev!” Peggy whirled around. “What’s she doing calling you? Does she know about the mess we’re in?”
“Sure,” Renie replied. “She’s checking with me for recent developments. Such as you being a big jerk.” Sticking her thumbs in her ears, and wiggling her fingers at Peggy, Renie flounced off down the hall.
“How many people have you alienated here so far?” Judith inquired as the cousins entered their suite.
“Not enough,” Renie snapped as she went to pick up the phone.
Judith sat down on the settee next to Renie, hoping she might overhear some of the conversation at Bev’s end. Unfortunately, the connection wasn’t strong, and she could catch only a few words.
“Yes, the police are making progress, albeit slowly,” Renie said into the receiver. “Well, your mother had to be sedated this afternoon. There was some kind of dust-up with Dorothy, w
hich followed on the heels of a row with Kenneth and his raccoon…”
Judith closed her eyes as Renie and Bev continued talking. Finally, as the conversation was winding down, Renie asked Bev if she knew anyone named Jim.
“No?” Renie said, nudging Judith. “He seems to be the other man in this divorce thing. Yes, I realize you’ve been away a great deal. One more question, Bev. Who’s Suzette?”
Once again, Judith tried to hear Bev’s response. She caught only a couple of words, which meant nothing out of context.
“Okay, Bev, thanks. That’s the first concrete information we’ve had,” Renie said, making a circle with her thumb and forefinger for Judith’s benefit. “And by the way, your sister, Peggy, is treating us like garden pests. She tried to throw us out this morning.” There was another pause before Renie spoke again. “Good. Thanks, we’d appreciate that. We’ll keep in touch. Bye.”
“Well?” Judith said as Renie hung up.
“Bev’s going to call Peggy and tell her to knock it off,” Renie said. “If that doesn’t work, she’ll talk to Wayne. Bev feels more strongly than ever about us sticking around to watch Leota.”
“As if we see much of her,” Judith groused. “Okay, so tell me what she said about Suzette.”
“Suzette,” Renie began, “was the French-speaking nanny who was hired to care for Peggy and Wayne. As far as Bev can tell, she left shortly before Margaret Burgess died. A new nanny was hired, Brewster was her name, and she stayed on until Bev was nine or ten. After that, Leota felt the kids didn’t need a nanny, because they were all in school and old enough to look out for themselves. Brewster left about the same time that Kenyon and the rest of the current staff were hired, which, as Bev reflected on the wholesale changes, seemed strange. It seemed natural that the nanny would be let go, but not everybody else. No one ever explained any of it to her, and she’d sort of forgotten about it over the years. Brewster—Ellen Brewster—by the way, is still alive and living in a nursing home, but she’s completely gaga.”
“That’s it?” Judith said, faintly disappointed.
“That’s it,” Renie said, “except that when Kenyon joined the household, he’d been widowed and brought Sarah with him.”