She Stopped for Death

by Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli

  She bent down to nudge Fida with her toe, getting a grunt and a sleepy woof. A couple of spoons clinked against glasses. A cookie was snapped in two. Dora opened windows along the sides of the porch so they got a cross breeze. A little chilly but nothing beyond what a sweater could fix. Dora brought up whether or not they could bring Alex to Abigail’s meeting on Tuesday.

  “I’d rather ask first,” Jenny said. “And you, Zoe. She explicitly said she wanted you there. I’ll jog her memory. She probably thinks she already invited you.”

  “‘No room. No room.’” Zoe put her little hands, with bright-red nails, to her cheeks, becoming Alice in Wonderland.

  Alex, the English major, laughed and leaned in as close as she could get, becoming the March Hare. “‘Have some wine.’”

  “‘I don’t see any wine.’” Zoe crinkled her nose.

  “‘There isn’t any.’” Alex lowered her voice to a very serious level.

  “‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it.’” Zoe’s irate face was believable. She was into character.

  “‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’” Alex said in a loud voice.

  Dora leaned forward and tapped her knee, a finger at her lips, shushing them. “Look,” she said and pointed down the street.

  A bouncing light wove a path along the sidewalk, coming toward them.

  “Emily Sutton,” Dora whispered toward Alex. “I think you’re about . . . to meet her after all.”

  They watched the light and the dark figure behind it zigzag up the front walk, then up the steps.

  “I hope she’s not mad because of me,” Alex muttered under her breath beside them and pulled back in her chair.

  There was a light knock, and the door opened.

  “Hello,” Emily Sutton said as she stepped inside. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

  “Emily!” Dora popped up, quickly pulling a chair around for her. “We’ve been worried about you.”

  The woman hesitated and peered through the near-dark at each of them, only to stop squarely at Alex. She took a tentative step onto the porch and stood with her hands crossed in front of her.

  “How are you?” Dora, Zoe, and Jenny asked at once, distracting the withering stare.

  “I’m happy you’re here, Zoe.” Her serious face lightened a little as she turned away from Alex. “I want to add to my shopping list. I have no thread. Could you get me thread, do you suppose, to go with the sky-blue scarves? I would say sky-blue thread, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m not sure where to go for sky-blue scarves and thread,” Zoe said, sounding more puzzled than angry. “I might have to go all the way into Traverse City.”

  “Oh, would you?” Emily clasped her hands at her breast. “It’s so important. I want to make myself something very special to wear for Abigail’s tea party. I understand it is to honor me. I’ve written a few new poems for the occasion.”

  “I think it’s more for planning your event at the opera . . .” Jenny started to say but was cut off by Dora.

  “Please, sit with us. Would you like a glass of tea?”

  “Oh, no. But a glass of wine would do. To celebrate the moment. That would be wonderful.”

  Surprised, Dora got up and headed quickly out to the kitchen.

  When Dora was gone, silence fell until Emily turned her probing eyes on Alex, who was still hiding in her chair. “We haven’t met, have we?”

  Alex sat up and agreed they hadn’t. “I’m Alex Shipley. Very happy to meet you, Miss Sutton.”

  “Emily, please. May I ask why you were trespassing on my property this afternoon? Miss . . . Shipley, is it? I called the police. But you know that. I watched them haul you away.”

  “Not exactly ‘haul,’ Miss Sutton.” Alex sat up and flicked her hair away from her face.

  “I can’t begin to express the fright you caused me. You do know I’ve been recently bereaved.”

  Alex nodded. “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

  Emily waved one hand in the air, as if brushing away a fly. “Oh, we weren’t close. It’s too bad, but I’d warned her again and again about the company she was keeping.”

  Zoe moved in her chair. Jenny sat up straight, catching her breath. They looked over at each other, startled, then back to Emily.

  “I knocked at your door. You didn’t answer,” Alex said.

  “I don’t.” Emily’s voice hardened. “For good reason.” She stared at the girl. “And did you find what you were looking for in my yard?”

  Alex began to say something when Dora came back and busily poured wine for everyone, handing the glasses around.

  Emily tasted the wine and made a face, but drank it down in audible gulps.

  “Thirsty.” She looked at the faces watching her, and smiled, not prettily.

  “Shipley?” Emily was suddenly surprised. “Shipley? Did you say your name was Shipley? I used to know a man named Shipley.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Alex said, finally taking a deep breath. “Walter Shipley’s my uncle. He’s been missing for three years.”

  “Missing? Really? But that’s how poets are, Miss Shipley. Time away from a world that reaches out with hooks and grapples to tear us to shreds. You’re looking at a poet now, one who is finally brave enough to reenter the world after many years away.” Emily cocked her head to one side and squinted at the girl, taking in every bit of her. “One day he will return, as I have.”

  “The last I’m able to trace him, he was supposed to come to Bear Falls. You invited him.”

  Emily shook her head almost violently. “That isn’t true. I barely know the man. Through his poetry, of course. He has an amazing mind. But to invite him . . .”

  “I have the letters you exchanged.”

  Emily slowly sat up. She set the glass on the floor beside her, finally saying, “Letters? For heaven’s sakes. You have my letters? May I see them?”

  Zoe, watching everything going on, put a hand out to stop Alex from getting out of her chair. The girl sat back, taking in Zoe’s message.

  “I don’t have them with me,” she lied. “I just wanted to talk to you about him. See if he came here that fall.”

  “If you have letters written between your uncle and me, I’d like them back. Wouldn’t you say they are my property?”

  “Of course. When I get back home I’ll send them. I should have thought to bring them with me.”

  Jenny understood immediately that Alex had caught on—how to talk to Emily Sutton. She watched Alex’s lovely face shift from startled and angry, to confused, and then to sweet, even entranced. She tipped her head toward Emily and smiled a bright smile.

  “In one of the letters you invited him to come visit. I even got the impression that maybe he was to stay with you.”

  Emily drew in a long breath and held it as if she’d stopped breathing completely.

  Dora jumped in. “You see, Emily, Alex is very worried about her uncle.”

  Emily slowly rose from her chair and tiptoed toward the door. She pulled her flashlight from her skirt pocket and flipped it on. Before anyone could stop her, she was down the steps and out the walk.

  The flickering light disappeared as she flew back up Elderberry Street.

  * * *

  After they were all in bed there was a knock at the front door. Jenny heard Dora’s bed squeak as she got up, then heard her hurrying down the hall, then talking to someone in the front room. In a few minutes the door was closed and Dora was in the hall again. There was a tap at Jenny’s door. Dora stuck her head in. “Tony was here. I told him you were sleeping. Awfully late for him to call.”

  Chapter 15

  The morning of the committee meeting/tea party at Abigail’s, Zoe flitted back and forth between their houses, wanting their opinion on one outfit after another. This was her first big social event since moving to Bear Falls.

  Zoe bought most of her clothes in children’s departments or off the racks in resale shops, so she couldn’t f
ind a thing to wear. At least, nothing of sufficient seriousness.

  First it was a white flared skirt with a jeweled top. She whirled in front of Jenny and Dora but didn’t wait for them to comment before hurrying back out the door. “I look like a pint-sized gypsy,” she called behind her. “Who knows what to wear in fall?”

  Jenny made a pot of tea and took it outside to sit in a chair under the walnut tree. The air was September perfect. Cool. Only the smallest of breezes. She wished the day were over. There were bigger things to think about than Emily. Like Tony at the door and what she was feeling about that.

  She was dressed, ready for the afternoon in her very short and very flowered dress, with sandals that almost matched but didn’t quite, and she didn’t care at all, thinking of how women used to dress—the corsets and long skirts and heavy tops. All before deodorant. She wondered what those women smelled like on a hot day and if rooms had to be aired after afternoon teas were over.

  In a few minutes, Zoe was back, striding head down through the garden. This time it was a red dress with a little red jacket. Her shoes were red. Jenny didn’t want to say she looked like a traffic light so she nodded and smiled.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. She bent close to Jenny’s face. “I can see you’re lying.”

  She turned to go back home but stopped. “What the devil was Emily talking about last night? That business about her cousin and the company she was keeping?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Althea was in her sixties,” Jenny said. “Probably not running with a gang.”

  “From what I heard, her only activities were church related or bird watching. Now how did church people get to be bad company? Is there some mescaline cult in Traverse City?”

  “Maybe the birds.” Jenny shook her head. “I’ve heard crows get pretty rough.”

  “Acting as if Althea’s death was nothing.” Zoe made a face. “How in the name of all that’s worth talking about does that woman write the thoughtful, deep poetry that she writes? The most I’d expect out of her is some moony-spoony stuff. Maybe a bloody mystery.”

  “Or a long lecture on how important she thinks she is.”

  “I’ve been wondering about that sister of hers, too. Lorna.” Zoe toed the ground near Jenny’s chair. “When Minty gets out here, I’m going to mention her. See if he can find where she went. It’s not just that Emily seems to need a keeper, but every time I go over there I get the feeling people are watching me from those upstairs windows.” Zoe shivered. “And that swamp. She spends a lot of time out there, it seems. Those places have to screw with a person’s mind after a while.”

  Goose bumps ran up Jenny’s back. “And those awful flowers she was holding. Gave me the creeps.”

  “Hold on! Don’t knock those flowers. Those were Indian Pipes. I hope you get to see them in the woods someday. Strange little white pipes sticking out of the ground. Not a flower at all, I imagine. More like a fungus. Something like a mushroom. But unearthly.”

  “Black, was what I saw.” Jenny winced.

  “Maybe they’re like moonstones. Change colors, depending on who’s holding therm.”

  “You sure don’t like her, do you?” Jenny laughed at her friend.

  Zoe shrugged. “I’m still trying. Maybe I’ll see a better part of her today. She’s reading new poetry.”

  Zoe turned away. “I’ll be back. I’ve got my barber pole dress to show you.”

  “Jenny.” Dora stood at the back door. “Phone call.”

  Jenny got out of her chair and went slowly toward the house. It had to be Tony. She steeled herself for his voice. She would listen, but that was all. He’d lied to her from the very beginning. Married. Leading her on without thinking about what he was doing. All the while he’d known her history with men. She would have thought he’d be a little bit careful. Her stomach was churning by the time she picked up the phone.

  “It’s Emily Sutton,” Dora mouthed at her as Jenny said “Hello” into the phone.

  “It’s my dress, Jenny,” Emily rushed to say. “I made it myself but now I’m not sure I should wear it.”

  Jenny, disappointed, assured Emily it would be fine.

  “I am probably badly out of style. What will those women think of me?”

  “People don’t expect style from poets, Emily. They want to see you and hear your work. Whatever you wear will be fine.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Jenny. I’m not certain I should let this go on. Such a large event. Maybe my work is outdated and my new poems not up to the old. I could be making a fool of myself.”

  Jenny assured her that everyone would welcome new work from her.

  “But Abigail’s gone overboard. I don’t really think I’m up to it. After all, I just lost my cousin.”

  “I heard most of the tickets for the big event have been sold, Emily. Snapped up right away.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t hide her excitement. “I suppose it would be a shame to disappoint so many people. Hmm . . .” Emily stopped to think. “Still, what are you wearing?”

  “A flowered dress.”

  Emily was silent for a moment. “Maybe I should wear black,” she said. “The color of the deepest, darkest universe—what with the death of my cousin and all. Will people expect me to be in mourning, do you think?”

  Jenny didn’t dare answer.

  “But then, my costume is blue. Waves of blue. Do you think that will be too much?”

  “Fine. Sounds fine to me.” Jenny turned and rolled her eyes at Dora, who stood listening behind her.

  “I suppose with you in flowers, I will be the dramatic one.” There had to be a self-satisfied smile in the woman’s voice. Jenny fought the urge to hang up. She politely said she would see her at Abigail’s house.

  When Dora asked what Emily wanted, Jenny only said, “Whether to wear black or blue.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “Blue, of course. Black would make her look too normal.”

  * * *

  As Zoe walked back out of Dora’s door in a dress of red and white and blue that did truly look like a barber pole, Chief Ed Warner walked in.

  He wished Zoe a good morning and smiled broader than Ed Warner ever smiled.

  “Your friend looks upset.” He nodded to Jenny and then to Dora. “Might be that dress she’s wearing. Somebody’s going to follow her down the street yelling that they want a haircut.”

  Thinking he was being very funny, Ed Warner chuckled and shook his head.

  Dora looked at the clock. Only an hour before they had to leave for Abigail’s. Still, she offered to make the chief lunch, which he turned down, saying, “I’m here to talk to the two of you. Miss Zola, too. If she comes back.”

  “Zoe’s getting dressed for a meeting at Abigail Cane’s in about an hour. We’re kind of pressed for time,” Jenny said.

  He put his hand in the air. “Only take a minute. There’s just some things I’ve been thinking about. A long time ago, my dad told me about the Suttons.” Chief thought a while as he checked his fingernails. “You see the back of that house?”

  Dora nodded.

  “There was a fire out there in the ell,” he went on. “My dad said it was a sad thing, but I never paid much attention. Kids don’t, you know. When I took over from Chief Arnow, he showed me a box of evidence and said not to ever throw it out. That’s when I heard that the mother was out there sleeping when the fire started. She went up in flames. Chief had reports in the box. Yellowed now, most of them. I never took it for much until all this started happening. Read over the whole thing this morning.”

  He nodded and thought awhile.

  “The chief wrote that he smelled gas on the burned boards when he was out there. It rained the next day. When he got time to go back out there, couldn’t smell it anymore.” He looked hard into their faces as they listened. “You know what that could mean?”

  Dora shook her head. Jenny crossed her arms and listened hard.

  “Well, I called Chi
ef Arnow this morning. Lives in Florida now. Fort Lauderdale. Says he likes it a lot down there.”

  He cleared his throat and looked out the window at the sound of Zoe calling Fida to come in the house.

  “Chief told me something. Made me swear not to say anything, but after thinking it over, I had to come here. I need help working this out. All this stuff around Emily Sutton. Whoever killed that cousin of hers, it sure looked personal to Detective Minty. Nothing taken from the house. A lot of blood, Minty tells me. Guess Althea was hit in the head with an axe, then stabbed out in her car. That’s the kind of killing that points to someone she knew. Chief Arnow went on to say that Emily came back to town just a year or so before the fire. Next thing he knew, the other sister, Lorna, was gone. The chief said he didn’t know for sure what happened to her. Had an idea, but didn’t want to say what it was.” He cleared his throat. “You know what to make of any of that?”

  Dora shook her head. “What did Chief Arnow think?” she asked. “Did he say? Was he hinting at arson?”

  “Didn’t say anything else. Just he was happy he was retired now. I kind of got the feeling he meant he was glad I was the one handling this new problem with the Suttons.”

  Ed left. Zoe trotted in, this time dressed in yellow chiffon that fell to her ankles. Over the yellow dress she wore a pale beige shawl. Her shoes were beige slip-ons, and her purse was yellow. She also had a yellow ribbon wound through her bright curls.

  “Now what have you got to say?” She smirked at Jenny, who smirked back.

  “Hope you don’t get mistaken for a daffodil.”

  Dora shushed Jenny and told Zoe she looked perfect.

  * * *

  They walked over to Oak Street because the day was sunny and still warm. There was only the three of them. Alex had begged off going, which Zoe had said was a very smart move on Alex’s part.

  On the way, under a row of colorful maples, Jenny told Zoe what Ed Warner had come to tell them.

  “Gas?” was all Zoe asked.

  “Gas,” Jenny said.

  “Like, did Ed say the chief suspected arson?”