Creeps Suzette

by Mary Daheim

  “I’ll bet,” Judith murmured.

  “And for the first syllable of Massachusetts, she did ‘sounds like’ and wiggled her—”

  “I’m sure she was terrific,” Judith cut in. “Just tell Joe I might be home later today. If not, I’ll be there around noon tomorrow, okay?”

  “Don’t rush on our account,” Arlene said. “We’re doing just fine. The rooms are all booked for tonight. Oh, my goodness,” she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper, “I just got Woody Woodpecker. Well, that ought to be easy with Carl around. Bye, Judith.”

  Looking dazed, Judith hung up. “They’re playing charades, with Mother and Herself.”

  Renie held up a hand. “Say no more. Please. Where’s Joe?”

  “I suspect he couldn’t stand the idea of Mother coming into the house and lording it over him with me not there,” Judith said. “As for where he’s been, I assume you heard.”

  “The Return of Herself,” Renie said, and couldn’t hold back a smile. “Now do you want to go home or did I hear you correctly when you hedged about our ETA?”

  In the middle of the room, Judith was turning this way and that. “I don’t know. I wish I knew if the little footman really was the weapon.”

  “Would it change your mind about who killed Dr. Moss?” Renie asked with a puzzled expression.

  “No.” Judith rubbed her temples, wrung her hands, and shuffled her feet. Then she gave herself a good shake and eyed Renie with determination. “Come on, let’s go find somebody.”

  “Who?” Renie asked, following Judith out of the parlor.

  “Caroline, for one,” Judith called over her shoulder. “Let’s hope she’s in her room.”

  Caroline, however, didn’t respond to Judith’s knock. Frustrated, Judith paced the hallway, but stopped abruptly when Kenyon came out of Mrs. Burgess’s suite.

  “Do you know where we could find Caroline or Kenneth?” Judith asked the butler.

  Kenyon cupped an ear; Judith repeated the question.

  “Miss Caroline and her mother went back to Mrs. Peggy’s residence at The Willows,” Kenyon replied. “Mr. Kenneth has left.”

  “Left, as in gone?” Renie asked.

  Kenyon nodded solemnly. “I believe he’s rather disturbed by the events of the past few days. Sarah is taking him to his place in town. They just went out through the back way. Mr. Kenneth was carrying a large bird.”

  “Thanks, Kenyon,” Judith said, rushing past the old man and down the staircase. “Come on, let’s head ’em off at the drive,” she called to Renie.

  The Cadillac was just pulling out of the garage. Judith stood in the driveway, waving her hands. Sarah Kenyon braked, then opened the window and leaned out. “What is it?” she asked, looking slightly annoyed.

  “Could I talk to Kenneth for just a second? Please?” Judith begged.

  After a brief discussion between the housekeeper and Kenneth, the young man got out of the car. Suzette could be seen sitting on the passenger headrest. “I’m never coming back,” he declared, lower lip thrust out. “Not until Grandmaman says I can keep my animals here.”

  “How about getting a job?” Renie muttered under her breath.

  With a warning glance at her cousin, Judith approached Kenneth. “Have you considered,” she began in a gentle tone, “using your inheritance to buy land in a less populated area for your sanctuary?”

  Kenneth’s blue eyes widened. “But then I couldn’t live at Creepers.”

  “Yes, actually, you could,” Judith asserted. “Many people live in one place and work in another.”

  “Do you?” Kenneth asked, his head lowered so far that his chin almost touched his chest.

  “Well…no, but that’s because—”

  The young man pointed to Renie. “Does she?”

  “Ah…no, but…Never mind.” Judith shook her head and waved a hand. “Forget it. Tell me something, Kenneth, why is your sister Caroline so frightened of the tower rooms?”

  Kenneth took a step backward. “Because she’s silly,” he replied, though there was an uncertain note in his voice.

  “She’s not silly,” Judith insisted. “She’s scared, and I think I know why. Who told her stories that made her think the tower was haunted?”

  Jamming his hands in his pockets, Kenneth twisted and turned in place. “Oh,” he finally sighed, “it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago, when we were little kids. Carrie heard Aunt Bev talking about how my mom and Uncle Wayne used to scare her. She asked Aunt Bev, but she wouldn’t tell Carrie. I guess it was because she didn’t want her to be scared, too. But Carrie started having nightmares and getting stomachaches. Finally, she was told some tale about a servant named Suzette from a long time ago who’d died in the top part of the tower. That’s why I named my parrot Suzette. I guess that’s why the room was sealed up. But Carrie never got over it. In fact, she got worse. She built it up in her mind and wrote poems about it.”

  “Who told her?” Judith asked as Sarah honked the horn.

  “My dad,” Kenneth replied. “He and Carrie were always real close.”

  Sarah honked again. Kenneth turned and hurried back to the Cadillac.

  “That,” said Judith to Renie, “is what I figured.”

  “What now?” Renie asked, watching the big sleek sedan disappear.

  Judith tapped her foot on the pavement. “I’m thinking. We don’t want to do anything foolish.”

  “Like getting ourselves killed?”

  “Like that.” Suddenly, Judith snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Let’s make a phone call.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Judith and Renie were back in the parlor. “It’s three-twenty,” Judith said, checking her watch for the fourth time. “I set our little meeting for four o’clock. Should we have a drink?”

  “It might be a good idea,” Renie said. “Dutch courage, I believe it’s called. Let’s head for the bar in the drawing room. I’d hate to have to wait for Kenyon to serve us.”

  Kenyon, however, was at the door of the drawing room. To the cousins’ surprise, he barred the way with a feeble arm. “I’m sorry, ladies. Mr. Wayne is in here, speaking with the private detective. Would you mind waiting or may I help you?”

  “We could use a drink,” Renie said bluntly. “Would you mind?”

  “Certainly.” Kenyon lowered his arm, and Judith swore she could hear his joints creak. She could also hear low, masculine voices inside the drawing room. “That would be bourbon for you, Mrs. Jones, and for Mrs. Flynn, it’s…” His face went blank.

  “Scotch-rocks,” said a voice from behind Kenyon.

  Judith gaped as Joe Flynn came through the drawing room door.

  Judith’s knees all but buckled. “Joe! What are you doing here?”

  He patted the breast pocket of his navy blazer. “I got my license. I’m a certified private eye. I come highly recommended.” The green eyes sparkled with the old familiar magic.

  “Joe…” To Kenyon’s astonishment, Judith fell into her husband’s arms. “I had no idea…When…? How…?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I retired,” Joe said between kisses. “I picked the license up yesterday. The local agency that Mrs. Burgess contacted this morning couldn’t send anybody right away, so they called me.”

  Judith was speechless. Renie, however, was grinning. “Did Bill help talk you into this?”

  Releasing Judith, Joe nodded. “He said it was a good idea to keep busy outside the house. Otherwise, you end up doing all sorts of horrible things, like cleaning out the basement. That’s a lot harder than working part-time.”

  There were tears in Judith’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re a private eye. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Joe said simply as Wayne Burgess joined them. “By the way,” Joe went on, “Wayne knows we’re married. In fact, he knows the story of my life about now. He seemed to like it.”

  Wayne looked
sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, but I was intrigued when I found out that you two had married later in life after unhappy first marriages. It’s a…heart-warming tale.”

  Kenyon cleared his throat. “Should I mix four drinks?”

  Surreptitiously, Judith looked at her watch. It was going on four. “Um…Maybe we’d better skip ours. Believe it or not, we have…an appointment.”

  Joe regarded his wife with skepticism. “I don’t believe it. But I’ll let you play your little game. I still have to meet Mrs. Burgess upstairs.”

  Judith avoided Joe’s eyes as she pushed Renie in the direction of the entry hall. “I feel like an idiot,” she murmured. “Here I’ve been criticizing Joe, and all the time he was considering how to spend the rest of his life.”

  “Until he retires again,” Renie said dryly. “Are you sure you want to go through with this now that he’s arrived on the scene?”

  “We have to,” Judith said as they turned into the hallway that led to the tower stairs. “Our guest is probably waiting for us. It’s almost four.”

  “I’m having misgivings,” Renie said as they started up the winding stone steps. “Are you sure your so-called guest will show up?”

  “Fairly sure,” Judith replied as they reached the fourth floor. “My offer was irresistible.”

  “Your offer implied blackmail,” Renie said, dropping her voice as they stood outside the battered tower door.

  “I had to think of something,” Judith murmured as she cautiously opened the door.

  The only sound was the creaking of rusty hinges. The circular room was empty. Judith checked the closet, while Renie looked under the bed. They appeared to be all alone. Clouds had settled in again, and the small, dirty windows provided little illumination on this afternoon in late winter. Shadows crept across the floor, as if seeking to merge with the dusty cobwebs.

  “Well?” Renie said as Judith sat down on the small cushioned seat between the two dormer windows. “Now what?”

  “We wait. It’s exactly four o’clock.” Judith sounded confident but her dark eyes darted in every direction. “We have to put in a few more pieces to finish the jigsaw.”

  “I feel better standing up,” Renie said, planting both feet firmly in front of the fireplace.

  “Fine,” Judith said, and then, despite herself, gave a start when the hinges groaned and the door swung open. With a swagger, Peggy Hillman entered the room.

  “Hi,” Judith said from the window seat. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  “Let’s skip the chitchat,” Peggy said, her voice huskier than usual. “How much is it going to cost us to keep you two quiet and why should we pay you a red cent?”

  “It’s like this,” Judith said with a faint smile. “You’ve kept some deep, dark secrets for a very long time. We know all about Suzette, and what happened with your mother, Margaret Burgess. You were named for her, weren’t you?”

  “So?” Peggy’s eyes narrowed as she perched uneasily on the narrow bed. “Why are you stirring up the past?”

  “I told you,” Judith asserted. “We know what happened here, in this very room. So do you.”

  With an abrupt swing of her head, Peggy turned away. “Let it be.”

  “We’d like to,” Judith admitted. “It’s a terrible story. But I think it has links to the present. That’s what we want to find out from you.”

  “No,” Peggy said, still staring off into the shadows. “You want money. Just like everybody else.”

  “That was only a lure,” Judith said patiently. “We aren’t blackmailers. All we want is the truth. You’re the key, Peggy. You’re a witness to what happened here over sixty years ago. I knew you wouldn’t speak up unless I resorted to drastic measures.”

  Slowly, Peggy turned to face Judith. “I honestly don’t remember much about what happened with Suzette. I was very, very young.”

  “You remember that your mother killed her,” Judith said softly.

  Peggy’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I remember no such thing. It was never mentioned.”

  Judith hesitated, trying to gauge Peggy’s state of mind. “You knew, all the same. You must remember your mother’s death two weeks later.”

  The hostility in Peggy’s manner faded as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I remember that.” She swallowed hard and stared at Judith, then at Renie. There was a glint in her blue eyes, a fire that seemed to consume rather then light up Peggy’s face. “My mother hanged herself here.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “There are no chairs, you see. There was one in this room then, an oak railback chair that was part of an old kitchen set. My mother stood on it and put a noose around her neck and tied it to that hook in the ceiling.”

  Judith and Renie stared at the sturdy iron hook that had probably once held a lantern.

  “Then,” Peggy went on, now staring at the floor, “she kicked the chair out from under her.”

  Judith nodded. “Yes, I see how that could have happened.”

  Peggy twisted around and glared at Judith. “No. You don’t see anything. You can imagine it, but you don’t see it. I do—because I found her.”

  Judith let out a little gasp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “You do now.” Peggy’s face had hardened. “Isn’t that what you wanted to find out? All the grisly, humiliating details?”

  “Not exactly,” Judith said, looking abject. “Goodness, you were—what? Two, three?”

  “Three,” Peggy answered. “Just three, the week before. I’d gotten a dollhouse for my birthday. I was alone. Our nanny—Suzette—had died, and my tower room was next to the nursery. Even though Wayne was barely a toddler, I didn’t want him wrecking my dollhouse, so I brought it into my room. I was playing with it when I heard the thud from just over my head.” She stopped, staring up at the ominous iron hook. “I was kind of a bold little thing. I came up the stairs to see what made the noise. Maybe I thought it was Wayne. He’d just learned to walk, but he was timid. I knew I could scare him away.”

  Peggy paused again, a hand over her eyes. “The door was unlocked. I never thought it odd at the time—you don’t reason things through when you’re only three. I went inside and…” The hand pressed against her mouth.

  “I am sorry,” Judith said, a miserable note in her voice. “If you don’t want to talk about it anymore, we’ll change the subject.”

  Peggy didn’t speak right away. At last, the hand slipped into her lap. “I smashed the dollhouse to pieces. I took one of the fireplace tools and beat on it until it was destroyed.”

  “Then the dollhouse in the nursery…?” Puzzled, Judith let the question hang.

  “That dollhouse,” said Renie, moving away from the hearth, “is an older one, which didn’t belong to you. Your Aunt Virginia’s, maybe?”

  Peggy nodded. “Aunt Ginny played with it when she was a little girl. It had been specially made, a replica of Creepers itself. I wanted a new dollhouse, all my very own. Papa ordered it just for me.”

  “Ah,” Judith said, grateful for Renie’s visual perception. “But you didn’t quite abandon your aunt’s dollhouse, did you, Peggy?”

  “What do you mean?” Peggy snapped. “I never played with a dollhouse again. Not anybody’s, not even at my friends’.”

  “I think you did,” Judith said deliberately. “I think you and Charlie Ward used to come up to the nursery and drink. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was a form of rebellion, maybe you were drawn to it because of what happened to your mother and Suzette. The nursery wasn’t used by the younger generation, because you and your brother had your own houses. Anyway, you’d stash your Scotch bottles under the floor. One time, you must have gotten very drunk.

  “Excuse me,” Judith said quickly as she saw the protest on Peggy’s face, “please let me finish. You told Charlie the whole story. You even made a ghastly little joke out of it, with a doll and some plastic blood. Afterward, you realized what a huge mistake you’d m
ade. But Charlie was your husband, you’d sworn him to secrecy. Married couples shouldn’t keep secrets from each other—except this was different. It revealed that your mother was a murderess.”

  “You’re making this up,” Peggy declared angrily. “What’s your point?”

  “The point is,” Judith replied, “that you and Charlie didn’t remain husband and wife. You divorced, and both of you remarried. Charlie and the second Mrs. Ward didn’t make a go of it. You were widowed by Zane Crowley when he was killed in Vietnam. Then you married Russ Hillman.”

  Sliding off the bed and waving her arms, Peggy started for the door. “I don’t need to hear my marital history. I know it by heart. Spare me.”

  “I can’t,” Judith said helplessly. “I wish I could.”

  Halfway across the room, Peggy stopped. “What do you mean?” The husky voice was breathless.

  “Charlie Ward wasn’t an ambitious man, and he claimed to have hurt his back so he couldn’t work. You inherited a large sum of money when your father died. Charlie wanted his piece of the pie. He threatened to expose the family. So,” Judith concluded, her voice breaking slightly, “you ran him down with your car.”

  Peggy burst out laughing, though there was no mirth in the sound. “What a crock! Some kid from the college or a drunk from the riffraff on the highway ran poor Charlie down. Everyone knows that.”

  “Not quite everyone,” Judith said sadly. “Dr. Moss knew better. That’s why you had to kill him, too.”

  Judith hadn’t known what to expect. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Renie searching the hearth, perhaps in search of one of the fireplace tools that Peggy had used to destroy her precious dollhouse.

  But Peggy merely laughed some more. “You’re a real pair of loons. Do you have any proof? And even if you had some ratty little scraps of evidence, who’d believe you? You’re nobody. I’m a Burgess.” Her eyes narrowed at Judith and Renie. “Do you know what that means?”

  “It means,” Judith said slowly, “that your mother got away with murder. But that doesn’t mean you will.”

  “Doesn’t it? You’re a fool.” Peggy turned on her heel and left the tower.