A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries)

by Judith Campbell

  Olympia put down her glass. “I think I should leave, Jack. When she does wake up, she’ll be mortified.”

  “I only wish she would be, then maybe she’d stop. She just makes a sloppy joke of it and then has another drink. Our friends understand. Welcome to the island, Olympia. But please stay and have supper with me.”

  This time the eyebrow didn’t go up, and there were no overtones. Jack handed Olympia her glass. “I can open a take-out box as well as the next guy. We’ll be right here when she wakes up, then I’ll feed her and put her to bed. It’s a lonely life, Olympia, and I wouldn’t mind some company. There’s nobody to talk to after six in the evening.” He checked his watch. “I guess she started early, it’s just after five-thirty.”

  “Has she ever gone to AA?”

  Jack paused and looked straight at Olympia. “She won’t go. I tried. Says she doesn’t need it. As I said, it’s a trade-off, and besides that, I love her. We manage.”

  Olympia accepted the glass but set it on the table.

  “OK,” she said, “but just for dinner. My sermon still needs writing. ”

  Olympia looked at the unhappy man standing in front of her, “Jack, are you sure there isn’t something I can do?”

  Jack lowered his voice and looked away from Olympia. “Well, now that you asked, I guess I could use a minister right now.”

  Nine

  Eudora West stood just inside the open door. She had a lace-edged handkerchief in her light brown hand.

  “Why, William Bateson, what a nice surprise, I wasn’t expecting you. What brings you here at this time of day?

  “I was driving through the neighborhood and thought I’d check on my favorite church lady. I’m heading into town and wondered if you needed anything.”

  “How very kind. I’m all set for now, but how about a cup of tea before you go?”

  William looked pleasantly surprised. “Why, how did you know what I really wanted was a cup of tea? Now that we both know what I’m up to, why don’t you let me make it? That is, unless you’d rather have something stronger. Isn’t it about that time?” William gave a broad wink and raised an imaginary glass.

  “Tea will be fine, Mr. Bateson, especially when I have somebody so nice to share it with.”

  “Then you stay here on the sofa and let me attend to the women’s work.”

  Eudora giggled and waved him off toward the kitchen. With a contented sigh, she settled back on the sofa. From where she sat, she couldn’t see William Bateson methodically opening drawers and cupboards and looking at the underside of the sink. While he was making the noises of making their tea, he ran a practiced hand along the bit of wall under the window over the sink and scribbled a few notes on a scrap of paper. He stuffed the paper into his trousers pocket and called out to Eudora.

  “I’ll need something without caffeine. Aha, just the thing, peppermint tea, that’ll be perfect. Good for the stomach at this end of the day.”

  Eudora called back from the next room. “What did you say, dear? I can’t hear you when the water’s running.”

  William smiled and poured their tea, but before he returned to the living room, he slipped a tiny camera out of his breast pocket and snapped several pictures of the vintage 1940s kitchen with its porcelain sink, worn wooden counters and painted cupboards.

  “Did you just blow a light bulb? I thought I saw a flash.”

  William quickly stuffed the camera back in his jacket and carried the tea tray into the living room.

  “No, but I’ll check around before I leave. It was probably a reflection off a passing car. Let’s have our tea first. Do you want anything else in yours, a little honey maybe? I found some and put it on the tray.”

  “Just a little milk.” Eudora was politely covering a yawn.

  “Already in there,” said William. “I haven’t forgotten how you like your tea, but I thought you might like to try it with some honey. Very soothing on the tummy.”

  “Why, Mr. Bateson, I must say you certainly know how to be nice to a lady”.

  “My dear Mrs. West, you are very easy to be nice to.”

  He picked up his own teacup and leaned back in the creaky wicker chair across from Eudora. “The last time I was here you started to tell me about the house and how you came to own it. You said it was your mother’s. I like house stories. Didn’t you say you were one of the first African American families to have a house on the Island?”

  Eudora stirred her tea, set the teaspoon in her saucer and settled into a story she loved to tell. “We were indeed. They used to call us colored folks back then. It was hard for an African American family to buy property here, but my father got this house from a white man he worked for. The old man died and left it to him. Nobody in his family wanted it, and my father had been very good to him when he got old.” She sat up straighter and adjusted the sofa cushions around her. She had come to the part of the story she most loved to tell and liked to take her time.

  “My mother first started coming to the Vineyard in the summer after she graduated from college. She was one of the first black women ever to attend college, you know. She loved it here so much that when she met my father, they decided to stay here year round. Mother was a teacher, and my father was a carpenter.” She gestured to the stairway beyond the door. “I was born right up those stairs, but I won’t tell you how long ago. And mother died in the same room right there in her own bed with me sitting right beside her.”

  Eudora’s eyes misted with the memory, and a solicitous William Bateson reached over, patted her hand and held out a freshly ironed white handkerchief.

  She shook her head and waved him away. “Still gets to me. So many memories. Some days I can forget what I had for lunch or who I talked to on the phone, but this story is in my bones.”

  Bateson nodded sympathetically. “When did you say the original part of the house was built?”

  “Late1800s. I’ve got the exact date in my papers upstairs in my office—well, actually in the spare bedroom I use as an office.” Eudora leaned back into the cushions and crossed her feet. “The original house was this room, the dining room and the kitchen downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs. ‘Course, we added on to it since then, but we are sitting in the same room where my father proposed to my mother.”

  She put down her tea cup and looked wistfully around the room.

  “And where they were eventually married,” added William.

  She nodded.

  “But since your husband died, you say the house is becoming a burden.”

  “Maybe it is.” She fingered one of the buttons on her sweater. “But where would I go? I’ve lived here all my life and besides,” Dory lifted her chin. “I talk about moving, but in the end, I’ll probably be carried out of here just like my mother.” She dabbed at her eyes again and covered another yawn with her handkerchief. She was beginning to nod off.

  William looked down at his watch and began to collect the teacups.

  “Goodness gracious me, look at the time. It’s going to be a long time before you leave here, Miss Eudora.” He paused, tray in hand. “But if you think the house is getting too big for you and the upkeep is getting too much, and you ever think about moving into something smaller, I’m the one who can help you. It’s always better to trust someone you know, right?”

  He looked down at the drowsy woman seated in front of him, and when she was almost asleep, he turned and went into the kitchen. He took his time as he rinsed off the cups and spoons and set them upside down on the wooden drain to dry. When he returned, Dory’s head had fallen forward, and she was breathing slowly and evenly. She stirred as he entered the room.

  “Oh, dear, I guess we chatted past my nap-time. I’m sorry, it’s just …” She was already drifting back off.

  “My fault entirely, I didn’t keep track of the time. Do you mind if I use the bathroom before I leave? I know where it is. You just stay where you are. I can let myself out. Shall I tuck your afghan around you?”

 
She nodded again, her eyes closing.

  He pulled the knitted blanket over her lap and then went back into the kitchen where he splashed water in the sink and flushed the toilet. When he returned she was breathing slowly and evenly and made no response when he asked if she knew what time it was. She never heard him go back to the kitchen, stuff a dish cloth into the drain and turn on the water. With that done, he quietly walked past her and let himself out the front door. He made no sound at all as he walked across the old wooden porch and down the steps to his car. The sentimental old woman would be out for at least an hour, and that was all the time that was necessary.

  Ten

  Sitting in a blue and white striped canvas chair on the deck of the Janney-Lee, Olympia could hear Jack Winters rummaging around in the galley. Earlier, he’d covered his wife with a light blanket, and she was still out when he returned carrying two plates of something that smelled wonderful. He had utensils and napkins tucked into his shirt pocket and a second bottle of the French Colombard wedged under his arm.

  He set the blue and white dishes on the table and then, with a courtly flourish, arranged the knives and forks and pulled the plastic salt and pepper containers out of his back pocket. They had snap-on covers to keep out the damp. Olympia remembered having a set like them when she was little. Her mother won them at a Tupperware party. The pop of a wine cork brought her back to the present.

  She shook her head and held up her hand. “Thanks, Jack, no more for me. Even though it’s not very far, I’m driving, and I’m a minister. Wouldn’t do if I couldn’t pass a breathalyzer test on my second day here, now would it? So thank you, but no.”

  The tone in her voice said she meant it, and Jack put down the bottle. He didn’t even pour a glass for himself.

  Olympia looked over at Janney and lowered her voice, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “Not now. Let’s have our dinner first, and then we can take a little walk along the harbor. I really don’t want to take a chance on her hearing this. She’ll know soon enough.”

  The man sitting across from her was clearly worried about something, and by the look of him, it was serious. Originally, Olympia thought he was being flirty, but all of that changed the instant Janney passed out. Maybe she was his social shield. She had known other couples like that. The guy flirts like crazy, making passes and innuendoes all over the place as long as his wife is around, but when she goes out of the room, it all stops. She’d had second thoughts about staying on for dinner back in the parking lot, but maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

  The two swayed with the movement of the vessel and talked easily about the church and the weather and the clever engineering of pleasure boats as they worked their way through their meal. She decided Jack winters was a personable man, after all, but he was also a very troubled one and wondered what in the world it was that he wanted to tell her.

  Olympia set her knife and fork side by side on the plate and looked at the man sitting across from her. “I don’t want to rush you, Jack, but maybe we could go for that walk now?”

  Jack looked over at his sleeping wife. A flicker of pain creased his forehead, “She’s good for another half hour, and what I have to say isn’t going to take long. I’ll clean up after you go.”

  He held out his hand to Olympia, and she stepped off the boat onto the sidewalk. The tide had been coming in since she’d gotten there, and the angle was considerably steeper. They walked for a while without speaking. As she looked at the boats nudging against the dock and listened to the sounds of gulls begging for scraps and then squabbling over who got the biggest, Olympia was carefully leaving space and time for the man to speak when he was ready. This place was so different from anything she had ever experienced, and she couldn’t wait to show it all to Frederick. If there wasn’t a drunken woman asleep on a million dollar pleasure cruiser, and the husband of that woman wasn’t about to tell her something he needed to say in secret, it might be a perfect summer evening on a storybook island off the south coast of Massachusetts. Only it wasn’t, and she knew it.

  She was about to ask herself how she got herself into this when Jack stopped at one of the public benches facing the water and invited her to sit down beside him. She sat, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for Jack to speak.

  “Thank you, Olympia, or should I be calling you Reverend Olympia?”

  “Olympia is fine. What is it you want to tell me?”

  Jack looked out into the harbor. “I got a bad biopsy report this morning. I have colon cancer. Janney doesn’t know.”

  Olympia blinked and steadied her voice. “How bad, Jack?”

  “Stage three, maybe worse. They’ll know for sure when they go in and have a look. The doctor said best case scenario is surgery, a bag and a chemo for a while. Then if that works, maybe they can reverse it. Worst case … well, I guess I don’t have to say it.”

  Jack turned and looked directly at Olympia. The fear and resignation were evident in his eyes.

  “When is it scheduled?”

  “They call it a procedure these days.” He half laughed, half choked. “A life-and-death fucking procedure!” He put his hand over his mouth and looked away. “I’m sorry, Olympia, that was rude.”

  “I’ve heard worse. How can I help?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, “it’s all so new. I go next week, Monday morning. They’ve already set it up. I’m going into the Dana Farber Cancer Center in Boston.” He paused. “It feels good to be able to tell someone.”

  “You need to tell Janney.”

  “I know, Olympia, but I haven’t a clue where to begin.”

  Olympia turned and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve begun by telling me, Jack. It’s not going to be easy, but now you aren’t alone. You need to get back to your wife, but don’t say anything tonight while she’s still … not herself. Why don’t you come and see me in the church office tomorrow morning? I can be there by nine-thirty.”

  “OK if I bring my coffee?” Jack was trying to sound casual.”

  “As long as you bring one for me, black, please, with lots of caffeine.”

  Jack looked down at his watch. “I think she might be surfacing. I should go.”

  “I can find my way back to the car, Jack. Thank you for supper.”

  Olympia stood and left the man standing alone on the sidewalk with his head bowed and his arms crossed in front of him. If he was correct in his calculations, Janney was due to wake up any minute. What then? When she drove past the Janney Lee on her way home, the sky was beginning to go fuchsia and gold over the water … and Jack Winter was still standing on the sidewalk.

  Eleven

  The long light of the June evening made it easy for her to find her way back to her cottage. The main roads were relatively free of tourist traffic, and in less than fifteen minutes she was almost home. The car clock said quarter to nine. There would still be time to pay some attention to the cats and get started on her sermon. But all of that evaporated when she turned onto her street and saw the fire truck parked outside the house.

  She pulled over two houses away, exploded out of the car and raced across the street, thinking only of the cats, when she realized that the firefighters were outside Dory’s house. They were positioning a hose that was coming out of her cellar window and gushing water into the street.

  “What happened? Where’s Mrs. West?” Olympia was almost shouting at the man who was trying to position the hose, “Is she hurt? What in God’s name has happened?”

  “She’s pretty shook up, but she’s OK. You know her?” The man guiding the hose was dressed in full fire gear.

  “She’s my landlady, I’m Olympia Brown. I’m staying in the guest house. Where is she?” He looked over at her house and pointed a muddy finger.

  “She left the water running and took a nap. We’ve seen it before. They get old and start forgetting things. She flooded the first floor. Most of it went down to the basement. That’s what we’re pumping out now.
Gonna be one hell of a mess, though. Gonna smell real bad in a few days, too. I hope she’s got insurance.”

  Olympia thanked him and ran into the house, where she found Dory sitting on the sofa looking dazed. She had bright blue rubber boots on her feet, and from where Olympia stood she could see William Bateson in the kitchen, pushing water out of the back door with a large broom. The rugs had been pulled up, and the wide planks of the floor were already starting to buckle.

  “Dory, what happened?”

  “I don’t know, Olympia. William dropped in this afternoon, and we had tea. He says I did the dishes, but I don’t remember doing them. I thought he said he was going to take care of them. I was tired. Oh, dear, it’s all a blur.” Dory was twisting one of her handkerchiefs. It was pink with a crocheted lace edge and matched her sweater.

  “Take your time.” Olympia was trying to make sense of what she was hearing. “You had tea with Mr. Bateson, and then he left, and you went and washed out the cups.”

  “No. We had tea, and then I started getting sleepy, and I think he did the dishes. I can’t remember, but I did go to sleep, and when I woke up there was water everywhere. I almost fell going into the kitchen to shut off the faucet. There was a dishcloth stuck in the drain. How could I have done such a stupid thing?”

  Olympia put one arm lightly around Dory’s slender shoulders and patted her trembling hands. “I’m going to call Julia Scott-Norton and Leigh Mayhew. You can’t stay here tonight. We’ll get you dry and settled, and then we’ll deal with the water, the insurance people and anything else that needs to be done tomorrow.”

  Olympia leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Let me go and talk to William. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help us. By the way, when did he get here?”

  Dory didn’t answer her but kept repeating, “I just don’t know how this happened.”