by CeeCee James
The feeling didn’t go away, in fact it felt stronger than ever. And then I heard it.
A child’s giggle.
I leaped to my feet and stared about. There was no one nearby… at least nobody that I could see.
From across the lawn, in the direction of the formal garden, a lawn mower started up. Stephen. The sound had to have come from him, a squeal from the engine starting, perhaps.
Our last talk sure hadn’t ended well. Maybe I could fix things now. I gathered my book and shook out my hair. A few petals fell free. I tucked the pencil behind my ear and the pad into my pocket and strolled across the great lawn.
The machine’s noise became deafening as I approached. When I finally spotted him, Stephen was moving the opposite way. He wore heavy duty ear protection so yelling was of no use.
I ran until I caught up to him and waved my arms.
The poor man nearly jumped from the seat. He turned off the mower and ripped off the headphones. “Good grief, Laura Lee! You scared me!”
I was pleased he remembered my name. “I’m sorry. There’s no smooth way to get your attention, short of throwing a pinecone at you.”
He smirked and pushed up his sunglasses. “I wouldn’t think anything of a few pinecones or two. Now a rotten apple, that gets my attention.”
“You’ve had rotten fruit thrown at you?”
He gestured toward the sky. “You’d be surprised what those crows will do when you rile them up or get too close to their nests. So, how are you doing?”
“I’m good. I wanted to apologize for maybe upsetting you the last time we talked.”
“What? Oh, no. Everything’s fine. I was just tired that day. Miss Janice has been working me ragged between the gardens and plumbing and stuff.”
“I heard.” I smiled. “This place feels like it’s slowly falling apart.”
“Yeah. It really is. Too bad nobody has stumbled across the crown Mr. Thornberry splurged the inheritance on.” He rubbed his nose. “You know, Mark was looking for it.”
I found it interesting he didn’t seem to think his mother really took it. “He was?”
“Yeah. We were talking about it last year. He’s convinced it’s hidden here someplace.”
“Sure, why not. There seems to be a million hiding places in this old place. You ever look for it?”
He snapped the earphones back on and wryly grinned. “I think I have more important things to worry about than fantasies and fairy tales. Like toilets and pipes.” With that he waved and started up the mower again.
I watched him go with that same strange feeling as the last time we’d talked. Some people just weren’t easy to talk with, that’s for sure. I removed the napkin packet from my pocket and unwrapped a cookie. Taking a bite, I decided to search a bit for Hank.
As far as I knew, the cat never went outside. Still, I couldn’t waste this opportunity. I checked around the few bushes near the front of the house, before wandering down the tree-lined driveway. I opened the pedestrian part of the gate and called for the cat. There was no answer other than the breeze shaking the leaves in the trees.
I walked along the road, enjoying nature and the rolling fields until I realized I’d be passing the spot where Mark died. There was no mistaking it, a huge slash in the dirt on a sharp corner, and I swear the air felt colder. It gave me the shivers.
Each estate seemed to have never-ending acres of property, and I had to wonder how Mrs. Fitzwater knew that Mr. Eland had been out that morning. Was it possible she could see this patch of road from her house? If she did, had she also seen Mark’s accident? But why keep quiet about it?
After several minutes, her gate came into view. I turned and walked backwards to see if I could spot the accident site. Perhaps Lucy knew someone working at her estate to get more answers.
As I was mulling all of this, a town car drove up. The rear window rolled down, and Mrs. Fitzwater peered out.
I wished for a hole to open up and swallow me.
“Is walking backwards the new thing?” she asked brightly.
“No, sorry. Just stretching my legs.” I turned around the proper way and continued.
The car rolled along next to me. “And, you are walking from where?”
“Just over there.” I pointed in the direction of the Thornberry estate.
“Ah. I thought you looked familiar. You’re the girl who searched for my purse, isn’t that right?”
I nodded.
Mrs. Fitzwater watched me for a second and seemed to come to a decision. “Well, hop in. I’d love to talk with you.”
Here’s what I’d been wanting. Finally a chance at some answers served up on a platter. Still I hesitated.
“Well, come on. Let’s get a bite to eat.”
The car stopped, and the chauffeur stiffly climbed out. He walked around and opened the door. I took in his white gloves and his spiffy cap, and then peered into the dark interior. I could just make out her heels, sparkling in the light. Her purse sat beside her, reminding me of the strange text she’d received.
She patted the seat. “What are you waiting for? I’m sure you have some questions. The Thornberry estate has always been quite the curiosity. I think we can help each other. If nothing else, Frederick makes a mean margarita and surely you must deserve something nice after all your hard work. It’s not easy being employed by Janice. Or so I’ve heard.”
It was now or never. I glanced up the lonely road and then climbed inside.
The rich beige leather seat squeaked under my weight as the chauffeur shut the door. I settled back and glanced at Mrs. Fitzwater. She smiled, making her eyes squint.
Suddenly I felt very much like the mouse who’d been trapped by the cat.
Chapter Seventeen
The car purred along the last bit of road to her gate.
“So, do you have the day off?” she asked, now searching through her purse. She pulled out a gold tube of lipstick and expertly applied it.
“Just for the afternoon,” I answered. A petal fell off my shirt and drifted to the pristine car floor.
“Perfect.” The gate opened smoothly and the car turned and rolled in.
“Frederick, please bring a plate of goodies out to the veranda. Come along….” She paused.
“Laura Lee.”
“What a beautiful name. Come along, then, Laura Lee. Let’s go enjoy the sunshine.”
I followed Mrs. Fitzwater out of the car and stared up at her house. Equal in the opulent splendor to the Thornberry’s, this estate had a major difference. The freshly painted pillars, meticulous roof tiles, and tidy siding spoke of years of tender care.
She led me into the grand entry, and we headed down a hallway. The walls were hung with portraits, each one fabulous both in size and color. It was with a start that I realized they were all of Mrs. Fitzwater.
I stood before one. In the picture Mrs. Fitzwater wore a strapless red evening gown with a red boa draped over her shoulders, the end held sassily over an eye.
“Ahh yes,” said Mrs. Fitzwater who paused next to me. “That’s when I did the Great Gatsby.”
My eyes fluttered wide. “You’re an actress?”
Mrs. Fitzwater laughed. “Well, eons ago. Obviously longer than I would care to admit since you don’t recognize me.”
“I’m sorry. I think I’m a bit stunned.”
She delicately touched the frame. “Red was my iconic color for years. Now I wear pink. I believe in aging gracefully. Like I’ve always said, I once was young and beautiful. Now I’m just beautiful.” Mrs. Fitzwater’s eyes twinkled, and I smiled.
We slowly traveled the length of the hallway while I admired the rest. Each portrait captured a separate character she played. Though each had a different scene they all had something in common. She exuded glamor in every one.
She opened the door to the screened-in garden porch. It was a surprise to see the understated decor, yet the room conveyed tasteful comfort. Dune-colored wicker chairs with scattered white and
green cushions, accent tables placed just so. A few ferns added to the relaxing atmosphere.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I said, sitting carefully in a chair.
“You should have seen it a few weeks ago. My butler hatches butterflies right in this room. For a few hours this place is heaven as they stretch their wee wings.”
Through the screen I could see a butterfly outside on a rose bush, and it made me smile.
“Did you know butterflies taste sweetness through their feet? It’s true. Frederick has a plethora of fun facts like that.”
Soon the butler arrived with a silver tray, and I was treated to the same tea service that I had helped serve only the day before.
Mrs. Fitzwater’s hand hovered uncertainly over the teapot. “Would you like something stronger to drink? I promised you a margarita.”
“No, this is fine.”
Mrs. Fitzwater nodded to Frederick to dismiss him and then scooted forward to pour the tea. I caught a scent of her perfume, strong and floral.
“Sugar?”
I brushed my hair behind my ear. A breeze came through the screen and made tiny wind chimes ring. I had to remind myself to quit gawking. “Please.”
Mrs. Fitzwater passed the bowl and then poured herself a cup. She settled back. “You’re probably wondering why I’ve asked you to come. Well, you’ve arrived at Thornberry right in the midst of a mystery.”
“You mean with Mark’s murder?”
“Not just Mark’s death. You’ve heard, I assume of a Barbara?” Her forehead wrinkled slightly.
I set down my cup. “Yes. I have.”
“Well, Janice and Barbara were once good friends. And then one day, Janice sent Barbara away.”
So Cook’s suspicions were correct. Barbara hadn’t left of her own choice. “But what could Miss Janice say that would convince her to leave her son, Stephen?”
“Her son and more.” She lifted the saucer and delicately took hold of the tea cup for a small sip.
“More?”
Mrs. Fitzwater raised an eyebrow. “The Thornberry estate has many secrets.”
I grew brave. “You are still in contact with her?”
Mrs. Fitzwater chuckled. “I wondered if anyone took a peek at my phone. Yes, I’m still in contact. And I’m trying to make a way for Babs to come back.”
“I heard that Barbara may have had an affair… with Mr. Thornberry.” The last words rushed out as if to make them less horrible.
“My goodness, the staff there do gossip.” She took another subtle sip of her tea, her eyes narrowing.
“Actually, it wasn’t the staff. It was Stephen who told me.”
“There is more to him than what you see. He’s not just a good-natured gardener. Be wary of him.” Mrs. Fitzwater crossed her legs.
I shifted. That warning didn’t sit well with me.
“At any rate, my goal is to find a way for Barbara to reenter society.”
“Do you know why she left?”
“Janice has some evidence against her. One needs to be cautious of Janice as well. She’s proper but she carries a velvet hammer. At any rate, the evidence is circumstantial at best, but with the seriousness of the crime, it could be a long jail sentence for an innocent woman.”
“Barbara has been gone for two years….” I pondered.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Isn’t that the same time frame as Mr. Thornberry’s illness?”
“Actually yes. He became ill shortly after. Janice hired a nutritionist named Georgia, who I heard was related to one of her employees. Or maybe a girlfriend? Anyway, she tried to help the poor man, but he went down hill quickly. He died soon after.” She sighed and stirred her tea. “As I said, it’s not just Mark. That estate is filled with both sorrow and secrets.”
“You said you saw Mr. Eland drive by that morning.”
“Is that what you were doing outside my gate? You were wondering how I saw him. I’ll put you out of your misery. Shortly after my first cup of coffee I take a walk around the estate. I was just passing the gate when he drove by.”
“Did he see you?”
“No. It’s obvious he did not.”
I had to word my next question carefully. Even if Mrs. Fitzwater needled Mr. Eland at the dinner party, they were neighbors. I was still the outsider. “I wonder why he didn’t go to the police if he had any information?”
“Oh, several reasons, I’m sure. The biggest being that Mark told Mrs. Thornberry that Richard was after her husband’s money. She never said anything, but word got around and his business has plummeted. It practically gives Richard a murder motive.”
I took a deep breath and threw all my cards on the table metaphorically speaking. “Do you think it’s possible he did it?”
She pursed her lips and glanced up, obviously giving that question some thought. “There are many, many reasons for Richard to hate Mark. I really can’t answer that one. I suppose time will tell.”
It wasn’t a good answer, but it was obvious that avenue had dried up. Time to try something new. “Did you see Mark’s car? Or hear it?”
“No, unfortunately, I did not. If I did, wouldn’t that have been so fortunate? This latest mystery would be all wrapped up.”
She winked at me then and the action took me off guard. Was she really being honest that she hadn’t seen the accident? Or was she a part of some big coverup?
“Were you close to Mr. Thornberry?”
She shrugged slightly, lifting a silk-clad shoulder in the way I’d seen many movies stars do. “At one point we were all friends, Janice and Henry, my husband and I. Things do change. Though you’d think with the two of us losing our husbands, Janice and I would have more to bond over.”
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m a survivor. Always have been. As is Janice.”
My throat felt dry as I asked the next question. Normally, I wouldn’t have dared, but she did invite me with the baited hook that we would both get answers. “Do you know how Mr. Thornberry died?”
“The story I heard said they found him sitting at a chessboard with all the pieces laid out. Two moves in. My question has always been, who had been playing with him?”
“Cook tells me it was a ghost.” I bit my lip.
She smiled, as if relishing a secret. “That could be true.”
“You believe the estate has ghosts?” I asked, straightening in the chair.
“You could say so. A very important one.”
I set the cup down. Was she messing with me or was this something she really believed?
She took a sandwich and set it on a miniature gold-rimmed plate. “Have one, dear. You look positively peaked.”
“I’m fine,” I answered.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. All these estates have their stories. I’m sure it’s just a bit of fun to scare newcomers with. I confess I’m a bit too teasing myself. After all, it’s someone to blame when your purse goes missing.” She winked again and took a bite. Despite her flossy hair, elegance gloved everything else she did.
I decided to confess. “I feel terrible that happened. I actually saw your purse that night under the table. I moved it to the table top, thinking you might have forgotten it. Somebody must have found it there.”
“A real person then. Not a ghost?” Her eyebrow arched.
“I heard you had a pair of earrings missing?”
“Ah, my hoop ones. Lovely on me. Most likely difficult for a spirit to wear.” She still teased me.
“Mrs. Jenson is the woman who found your purse. Apparently she found it out on the porch after you left.”
“Mrs. Jenson?” she said, her amused smile growing.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Interesting. She always loved those hoop earrings. I’ll get them back yet.” With that triumphant declaration, she popped the rest of her sandwich in her mouth.
I helped myself to one as well. It was delicious. Cream cheese and chicken, whole
grain, with cucumbers. “Mm, it’s good.”
“Frederick always prepares a delicious tea.”
I relaxed slightly into the back of the chair. “Can you tell me any more about your plan to help Barbara?”
“Soon. I promise. Right now it has to be our secret. And I’d like you to let me be the one to tell Stephen. He hasn’t forgiven her for leaving the last time.”
“He hinted that when she left she took the crown.” It made me sad to share that.
She waved her hand as if to brush away a childhood fib. “Well, that’s silly if he really believes that. After all, Mark would have told him differently. And they were friends.”
“Friends?”
Mrs. Fitzwater lowered her chin and stared me straight in the eyes. “As much of a friend as Stephen will let anyone be.”
Chapter Eighteen
The visit lasted for about twenty minutes longer, and then a chiming clock reminded me I needed to be back at the estate. I thanked Mrs. Fitzwater for the lovely afternoon and excused myself. She offered her chauffeur but I declined. It had been a while since I’d had a beautiful afternoon all to myself, and I wanted every moment to be alone to think.
So, it was a shock when I saw a man standing outside the Thornberry’s gate. Even more startling, Hank sat several feet away, staring at the stranger with baleful eyes.
“You’d think I’d get a better welcome. I don’t have to be here, you know.” the stranger said as he watched me approach.
I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse me?” he mimicked. "Don’t be giving me those crazy eyes.”
I seriously considered causing him to have some crazy eyes with a swift kick. Hank didn’t appreciate the man either and hissed.
“You’re scaring the cat,” I said, deciding to dismiss the stranger as of little importance.
“I didn’t know you still had that stray. I thought Miss J got rid of him.” He squatted down and stretched out his fingers. “Come here. Come on.”
The cat blinked. His skin twitched along his back, and he turned to give it a good lick.