by Lane Stone
I laughed and tried to catch my breath enough to talk.
“You’re crying,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
He reached over and rubbed my cheek. “Then what’s this?”
As we looked at the water on his fingertip, his attention was diverted by a car going by. It was a Lewes Police Department cruiser.
“There goes Chief Turner,” he said with a jerk of his head. “I guess he’s going home for a shower. The guy works all the time.” He looked back at me. “Tonight’s the big shindig?”
“Yeah, can you come?”
He looked up at the still dark sky. “Are you having anything good to eat?”
Sure, some might feel it distasteful for him to ask about food while I was crying, but not me. I thought, bless him for not making me talk about the slight meltdown.
“Yeah, the caterers have done a great job on the food choices,” I said. “We’re having heavy hors d’oeuvres.”
“What do you mean, like a fifty-pound cheese ball?”
I did crack up at that. “I’ve got to finish my run.” I turned to go, and I was laughing at the image of the dangerous appetizer. “Thank you!”
“For what?”
“For making me laugh.”
“Thank me by dancing with me tonight.”
“Sure.” My steps felt lighter already.
Chapter 25
We saw the night part-timers off and made quick work of the start-of-day checklist. Mason and Joey were both dressed like Fred Astaire on a rehearsal day in tight T-shirts and pleated pants. They would be in tuxedos for tonight. They had never wavered in their belief in Buckingham’s all week. I’d hugged both of them as Lady Anthea and I headed out. They bowed to her. The gesture had become a thing between the three of them. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep herself from snickering every time.
“What should I say if anyone asks where you are?” Shelby called.
“Just say where we are.”
At ten o’clock Lady Anthea and I were pulling up in front of Dayle’s house. She opened the screen door and stuck her head out to look up and down the street. We heard classical music coming from the back of the house. “Get in,” she whispered. “Were you tailed?” A colorful Hermès scarf covered her head, stylishly knotted at the back of her neck.
“Don’t think so,” I said.
“At least not by Mary Jane. We haven’t called her yet,” Lady Anthea said. “Since she lives so close we were afraid she would arrive before us.”
We walked in, stepping carefully on the paper-covered floor and around industrial-sized paint cans. Dayle took another look out. “What do you mean? Who else might be following you?”
“Chief Turner is never far away,” Lady Anthea said, giving me a look and a don’t argue raised eyebrow.
“I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind that,” Dayle said. “And I’m betting it started Monday night at Gilligan’s. How long did you stay anyway?”
The casual question threatened to unnerve me. When would I go back to a simple life that included late and lazy nights out with my friends?
“Wait,” I said. “That night was one of the few times I stayed out later than you.” She laughed in agreement. “You were gone before Chief Turner showed up, so why do you think anything—and I’m not saying it did—started then?”
“Barb and Red told me about how he was looking at you with those beagle eyes. By the way, where’s your car?”
“Parked around the corner,” I said.
“Oh, right. But won’t she assume you two are here when you call to ask her to come over?”
“We didn’t want her to know she is here,” I said, pointing to Lady Anthea.
“We didn’t want her to know she is here,” Lady Anthea said at the same time, pointing at me.
We laughed and I said, “She doesn’t like either of us right now. She knows Chief Turner’s information on the value of the paintings came from her.” I nodded in Lady Anthea’s direction.
“She saw quite clearly that Sue was the reason her feminine tricks didn’t work on the chief,” Lady Anthea said, pointing right back at me.
“Can I call her from your land line?” I asked. “If her caller ID shows my name, she may not answer. Unless you want to do the honors?”
“I can’t! I told you I’m a horrible liar!” Dayle said.
We followed her and Dottie into the kitchen, which was the neatest room we’d been through. She picked up a remote from the table and turned the music coming from the Bose radio off.
I dialed the number I’d written on my palm. After a generous number of rings, I was about to hang up when someone answered.
“Hello.” I’d woken her up.
“Mary Jane?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“It’s Sue Patrick.” She groaned and I was afraid she was about to hang up. “I need your help.”
She didn’t respond, but I didn’t hear a click either, so I figured I’d keep going. “I’m at Dayle Thomas’s house. Do you know her? She’s a photographer?”
“I’ve seen her work.”
“Well, she’s—uh—” I realized I hadn’t asked Dayle if I could say anything about her having cancer. I looked over at her.
She bobbed her head up and down, smiling. She was all in and I kept going.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but she has cancer. Chemo has been kicking her butt and she’s having a rough morning. I was wondering if you would come over and see her since you’re a nurse. And maybe you can tell her if you agree with the prescriptions she’s taking?”
“I hear she’s photographing people now, not just animals,” she said, in mid-yawn. I imagined a wheel turning inside Mary Jane’s head. She was being asked to help someone fighting cancer and she’d started working out how to turn the deed to her advantage. Not pretty. “Who’s that at my door at this ungodly hour?” I heard bumps, bangs, and cursing as she made her way through her house.
“As if I don’t get enough of that old fool every afternoon,” she said under her breath, unaware someone with ears like a dog, namely me, was on the line. Then in a louder but distant voice, “Hold your horses.” She brought the receiver back to her face. “Be there in half an hour.”
“The front door will be unlocked. Just come in,” I said, sticking to my script. I hung up and told Dayle and Lady Anthea what she’d said. Of course, leaving out the first part with her less than altruistic motive.
“That gives us just enough time for a cup of tea,” Dayle said, pointing to the three china cups and saucers on the counter by the stove. “I have loose tea because I thought you would prefer it.”
Lady Anthea clapped her hands. “I’ve reached civilization!”
Dayle laughed. “I made tea like this last night. It was really good. You brought something new to Lewes.”
We sat around the table and waited for the water to boil.
“Don’t watch it,” I said. “You know how that goes. Speaking of watching, where should we hide before Mary Jane gets here?”
Dayle got up and spooned tea into three tiny mesh baskets. Then she poured water into the cups. “I think we can all fit in the closet under the stairs. That door’s original and the slats are spaced about a quarter of an inch apart.”
I wasn’t wild about being crammed into a closet, but I would do it for the cause. I dreaded seeing the look on the face of my gentry-partner.
“Perfect,” Lady Anthea said.
“You’re being a good sport!” I said, surprised.
“I was referring to the tea.”
“If we don’t hide, we won’t be able to see how familiar she is with the house in its current state, Dayle said. “She came through on the Lewes House Tour last year, but she shouldn’t have been inside since.”
“
I’ll be fine. Fristhden has many cubbyholes that my brother and I played in when I was a girl.”
“Dayle, we hate to ask you to hide with us but we need to see how Dottie responds to her when she lets herself into the house,” I added. “If Dottie is with you we won’t be able to tell if Mary Jane is a stranger or not. Her reaction would probably be different.”
Dayle took another sip of tea then went to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, facing the front of the house. “I was going to be the lookout for you, but how about if I close the front door? That way no one will be able to see us through the screen door, and you can stay in the kitchen until Mary Jane gets here.” Suddenly she froze.
I had heard it too. Footsteps crunched up the gravel path to the house. I had been half expecting Mary Jane to get here late, not a few minutes early. Lady Anthea checked her watch.
Dayle went to the door.
“What are you doing here?” Dayle demanded in an annoyed voice. Without looking back at us, she swung her hand a few inches back, arm straight. Stay, the gesture said.
“I just want to talk. That’s all,” a male voice pleaded. I knew that voice. I had heard it recently.
My eyes met Lady Anthea’s. She squinted in concentration, then her eyes flew open wide. She reached around to the nape of her neck and flicked her wrist. A ponytail?
“Rick Ziegler?” I mouthed.
“Not a good time!” Dayle said.
“It’s never a good time any more, is it? You’re shutting me out!”
“Just not now. If you leave, I promise we can talk later,” Dayle said, calmer but insistent.
“When? Tell me when and I’ll leave,” Rick said.
“At the gala tonight,” Dayle promised.
“I want two dances!”
The joy in his voice made me smile and Dayle laugh. “Two? You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Ziegler.”
“Two slow dances or I go back to the street and yell how much I love you for all of Lewes to hear!”
“Okay, okay, two slow dances! Now leave and I’ll see you in a few hours.” Dayle closed the door and came back to us in the kitchen with a big grin on her face.
“My, my,” Lady Anthea said.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “I thought I knew all the latest Lewes gossip, but obviously, I don’t. How long has this been going on?”
“Just before I was diagnosed. We got serious right away.” She was back to standing in the kitchen door way. “Do you really think this Mary Jane Kerwin killed Henry?”
It was a blatant attempt to change the subject, but that was her right.
“I do,” Lady Anthea said. “She’s practically an art thief. She cheated her employer, who put trust in her, out of a substantial amount of money.”
“I’m not as sure. I keep going back to the fact that, like you said, the two of them were cheating Peter Collins. What she does when she walks in here will tell us what we need to know,” I said.
Lady Anthea looked at Dayle. “You were listening to Franz Liszt. Am I correct?” She pointed to the radio on the cabinet. I was grateful the question had been addressed to Dayle and not to me. “In his compositions, almost every musical phrase is the consequence of what came before it. Mary Jane learned Henry had a fiancée. Henry was murdered. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”
Dottie began barking.
“Shhh,” Dayle said. “I hear someone. Quick, get in the closet.”
Lady Anthea was mid-sip but put her cup down on table. We scrambled out to the hallway. Dayle was holding the door open for us and we stooped to get in without hitting our heads before she closed the door. “Be right there,” she called down the hall, then she caught herself. “Oops,” she whispered. She was supposed to be in the closet with us, and Mary Jane was supposed to let herself in.
“Go ahead,” I whispered. “We’ll just watch Dottie. That’s good enough.”
Dayle nodded and went to open the door. Lady Anthea and I watched through the slats of the closet door and immediately saw the limitation of our plan. Our vision was confined to three or four feet away down the hall. We wouldn’t be able to see Mary Jane when she first came into the house. Hopefully, we’d be able to tell a lot by listening to Dottie since we couldn’t see her either.
We heard the front door open.
“Hi—uhh.” Dayle’s voice had started on one note and then descended down the scale. “Can I help you?” Then louder, and clearly. “Chief Turner, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Is Sue Patrick here?” I knew he wasn’t one for the pleasantries, but that was abrupt even for him.
Silence from Dayle. I thought back about how scared she’d been after lying to the police the first time, and reached for the door knob. I would announce myself. Lady Anthea stopped my hand. She shook her head.
“She’ll make quick work of him,” she whispered.
Dayle shouldn’t be put in that position. I would let this play out for another minute before I put a stop to it. I knew what I would say. I would close the door quickly behind me and tell him it was a bathroom.
“I haven’t seen her,” Dayle said.
Her voice was tentative, and I could imagine the suspicious look this would elicit from John.
“The Pet Place said she was here.”
Pet Palace. I bit my tongue.
“Well, she’s not. Bye.”
“Wait,” he said. “If you see her, tell her it’s urgent that she call me.”
“You’ll see her at the gala tonight. You really should ask her to dance.” Where the hell did come from?
“Ma’am, I don’t think you understand. I need to reach her right away.” Where Dayle had chattered, his voice was measured and weighty. “I’ve got to go.”
The front door closed and Dayle came back to free us from our claustrophobia-inducing hideout.
I stretched my back and breathed in sweet liberty.
Chapter 26
“Where is Mary Jane?” Dayle asked in exasperation.
“I think we can assume she’s not coming,” Lady Anthea said on her way back to the kitchen.
“Peter Collins came to her door while we were talking,” I said. “At least I’m assuming it was him since it was someone she sees every afternoon—”
“So she was just held up?” Dayle offered. “Can you stay a little longer? She should be here any minute.”
I glanced over at Lady Anthea. “From what we’ve seen of her, I’m afraid it’s more likely that she blew us off.” I told them the part of my conversation with Mary Jane that I’d left out before. “Now, I’m wondering if when she said she would see us in half an hour, she was talking to him?”
“Dayle, is the kettle still on? I’d love another cup of tea,” Lady Anthea said, making me wonder how hard life had been for her this week having to use tea bags. Was the tea at Buckingham’s and at my house really all that bad?
When the refilled cup resulted in something between a sigh and a moan, I had my answer.
“Are you going to call Chief Turner?” she asked after the first sip.
“Nah, he can wait. When we leave here, let’s go to the Best of the Past. If she’s there, let’s ask her why she didn’t show.”
“Good idea,” Lady Anthea said. “If she’s not there, it won’t be a wasted trip, since I can get another look at the paintings.”
Dayle jumped up. “I just thought of something. As much as I hate to see you go, there’s a chance Peter Collins is still at Mary Jane’s house. If he is, you can see the gallery without either of them being there.”
“How would we get in if neither of them are there?” I asked. “There aren’t any other employees who could let us in, are there?”
“He has seasonal help, but no one that would follow you around,” she answered. “He keeps a spare key on the frame of the back door. Hurry!”
I looked at her closely. “Now you’re acting and looking like your old self. Was it the tea tonic, our crazy scheme, or Rick’s visit?”
She touched the side of her makeup-less face. “I’ve got so much to do. I’ll see you tonight.”
With a hug for Dayle and a goodbye pat on Dottie’s head, we left and practically ran to the Jeep.
“What about Dayle and Rick Ziegler?” I asked.
“He’s not my cup of tea,” Lady Anthea said. “But he certainly is entertaining.”
“He is that! Like when he gets drunk and blames it on that one evil beer found in every case.”
“Sometimes opposites attract. Speaking of which, don’t forget to call Chief Turner.”
“I already did,” I answered.
“When would you have called him?” she demanded.
“I meant, I already forgot to call him.”
Chapter 27
The tourists had considerately left us a parking spot near the Best of the Past. The front door was propped open and the lights were on.
“It looks like we won’t need to avail ourselves of the hidden key,” Lady Anthea said as we walked in.
“I don’t see anyone,” I said, looking around.
“Well, someone is here,” Lady Anthea said.
“If it’s Peter Collins and he sees you, he’ll be on you like a dog on a mailman’s leg,” I whispered, remembering how he’d fawned whenever he’d seen her. “Let’s go.” We were headed to the gallery section of the store when my cell phone rang. “Guess who this is,” I said when I saw the name on the screen.
“Answer it this time!” she said. “Poor man.”
I looked around and we were still alone, so I put the call on speaker and kept walking. The two large paintings were as beautiful and powerful as when we’d last seen them.
“Sue!” Chief Turner said.
I started parsing all I heard in his voice and couldn’t name all the emotions in it. The tone said anger, but anxiety too.